Glorious Rain

Another day in the rain, this time half the day in a cloud that clung close to the flat farmland and then a steady rain that began 20 kilometers outside of Cascavel.  Rain affects the psyche, and too much of it can give a man the wrong idea about a country or a city or a day. For example, I will create a list of cities in Brasil that I want to live in—I will rank each city according to my impression. Cities where I encountered rain or cold or clouds? They may never make it. I may favor rainy cities which experienced sunny days and may outcast dry and sunny cities which had rainy days. Christ. 

I wish I could be eating healthier, but the buffets (which have unpreserved meat and good food) are for lunch and are closed for dinner. For dinner I eat pizzas and sandwiches and much bread and cheese. It does not do me well.

Right now I am not thinking very much. I am riding on highways and experience traffic and trucks and cars. Lots of solitude and open space today, but towards the towns much traffic. As I approached Cascavel I had one of the more miserable approaches. Heavy rain and the upheaval of brown splashing water sprayed by huge trucks, in my face and whipping me to the side of the road, as I approached. It was heavy traffic and rain and brown water from the clay-based mud. I made it to the center of town and explored a few neighborhoods before getting a good feeling about one hotel. The cheapest room was $R69, but I didn’t care. It’s a well-to-do city, mostly European. I put my bike in the hotel and wanted a steak. I wandered around for 40 minutes before settling for a burger ($R5) and a beer (R$2.5) and a bakery. I ate with high school folks who just got out of class. They all wore blue track pants, a uniform of sorts. They listened to Brazilian rap. I didn't pronounce the "X" in front of the Calabrese and he gal behind the counter was confused. But for my drink I went to their refrigerator and got it myself. I've gone from nervous foreigner to hollow-eyed man who rides all day in the rain. I've seen too much of this country to call myself a foreigner now. How many Brazilians have covered as much land as I have with their own feet? Yes, I know there is suffering here but I don't know if it. As Moraline has pointed out, I use money to separate myself.    

I then went to the grocery, a large grocery that is set up the same in each city. I got fried cheese and bread balls, chicken legs, and some pizza like pastries and then the same items I get every day: milk, granola, papaya, beer, and cachaca. 

I then ate and still I feel terrible. The rain and the darkness and the traffic takes it out of me. It would be better to rent a place in Florianopolis and run each day and swim on the beach and read and write and practice Portuguese and meet some Brazilian women. 

Fog and clouds.

 Heavy fog.

Fog.

 Rain.