Jaza's World Trip

Drinks at the Italian pad

When we returned from our Dos Rios hike this evening, the Italian guys invited us back to their guesthouse, for some drinks and a barbeque. Well, as with today's hike, the get-together turned out to be as late as it was chaotic: but in the end, it happened, and it was a great night out. All six of us from the hike showed up, as well as my mate Tom, and Larissa (who was feeling better by the evening), and a few other random friends of the group.

I'm not sure what Tom got up to today — but anyway, I found him when I returned to Aquario this evening, and told him that he was coming along with the rest of us, to the barbeque and drinks. He didn't argue — sounded like a good plan to him as well. When I got back to Aquario this evening, I also discovered that I'd kinda injured my right foot: I'm not sure if it was a splinter, or if I just stepped on a hard-edged nut, or what happened; but a spot in the centre of my foot's sole was causing me some serious pain whenever I stepped on it. This proved to be quite aggravating for the rest of the night.

Anyway, I knew the name of the guesthouse that the Italian guys were staying at, and I knew that there was a sign somewhere in town pointing to it — but I didn't know where the place actually was, or even exactly where the all-revealing sign could be found. So Tom and I were walking (actually, I was limping) around Abraão for about ½ an hour, trying to find the daym sign, before we eventually stumbled upon it, and made our way down to the guesthouse.

When we reached the guesthouse, we were dismayed to find that the place was deserted. Nobody home! We shouted, we waved, and we peered inside rubbish bins — but no-one popped out of any woodwork. S#$t. Were we at the right place? I was pretty sure that I had the name right (although I can't remember it now). Maybe they were out shopping, still in town? Anyway, we weren't gonna just hang around up there all night, waiting 'til G-d-knows-when; so we figured it would be best to go back to town, and to have a look around there.

We searched the town, but we couldn't find our friends there either. In frustration, we gave up, and decided to just duck into one of the town's many restaurants, for a quick bite of dinner. Well, what do you know: literally 2 minutes after we've sat down and ordered our meals, who should walk past, but the whole daym lot of 'em, on their way back to the guesthouse from the shops! Great timing, eh? We couldn't very well just ditch the restaurant — they were already starting to cook our meal — so we told them we'd come back later, for a few drinks. They said that was perfect, as they hadn't managed to buy enough fish for everyone, anyway — better that we turn up on full stomachs.

So Tom and I wolfed down some tucker at the restaurant in town, and then returned to the Italian dudes' guesthouse, to continue the night's revelry. Unluckily, the guesthouse was situated at the top of a long, uphill street, which I really struggled to limp all the way up to, what with my foot in agony, and all.

After that, it was a great little party we had up there. And the beverages were exactly the way I like them: high on alcohol, but bereft of beer! That's right: none of the dreaded Brazilian Itaipava beer tonight — which, by the way, is the worst beer I've ever tasted in my life; and considering just how many better drinks there are here in Brazil, I refuse to drink even one more sip of their revolting, comparable-to-raw-sewerage beer, for the rest of my time here. We more than made up for the beer drought, with caipirinhas in abundance, and also with more than a few shots of straight cachaça.

It was good times this evening; but the cachaça shots, in particular, were knocking a few of us out like lightbulbs (myself included). So we had to make our stumbling way back to Aquario at about 2am, with the help and (very literal) support of those who were less hammered than ourselves. What with my wasted senses, and my f#$%-that-reeeally-hurts right foot, it was quite the journey — but we made it to our respective beds eventually, where we slept like bricks until well into the morning.

Filed in: Ilha GrandeBarbequeAlcoholPartyOy veyInjury