So, I really didn’t think I would blog on this trip – after
all, I’ve been to
After an uneventful 20 hour trip; with the exception of the 1 ˝ hour delay before leaving Sioux Falls - and the unhappy realization that you can fit more people into an airplane if you move the seats 2 inches closer together and that the distance from my hip bone to my knee is exactly 2 inches longer than average man – or at least longer than the man sitting next to me for the last 7 hours – I arrived in Sao Paulo. Speaking of my patella, I’m reading a book about a boy name Piscine Patel called the Life of Pi – highly recommended.
Day one’s agenda consisted of a day trip
to a small town outside of
I’m still OK with this, as we sit in the car with Helder’s family and I explain the different nuances of FORD in English to non-English speaking people (Fix Or Repair Daily – Found On Road Dead). This takes at least 20 minutes to convey the full impact of having purchased a defective new FORD. I’ve even forgotten about the seedy characters standing approximately 20 feet away. The disconcerting event lies within watching 3 fully loaded police cars drive by…the middle one with a 20-yearish Police Officer leaning out of the window with a pistol pointing directly at us.
These are the good guys!
OK, maybe they were pointing at the seedy characters behind us. Regardless, we’re in the middle.
Helder’s father-in-law (Bruzundunga!), who embodies the playful elderly gentleman, picked us up 10 minutes later. As we drove to his house, I discovered in partial Portuguese that 16 policemen were killed last night. Guess this would explain the police caravan’s actions.
The next morning – the headlines of local paper confirmed this (here’s my rough translation): “63 actions against delegations, posts of the police. 25 policemen killed – 30 people total”. A picture of a police car with seven bullet holes in the windshield and bloodstains takes up 40% of the front page. Story is summarized with the caption: “no negotiations with organized crime is taking place. When we isolate the chief of organized crime, we suffer repercussions.” Seems they just moved the biggest mob boss, Marcela, to a new isolated facility.
Directly below this front page picture is another large picture: a Brazilian mom receiving kisses from her son and husband, with the caption: “Dia Das Măes”. Happy Mother’s Day.
We break down (there’s a horse in the background) |
Rescue arrives (towed away by a Mercedes) |
We did finish our day trip – seems the only thing wrong with the FORD was a fuse. Went to a small town called Embu – 20 kilometers and 2 hours from my hotel (non-city dwellers will want to do this distance-math equation!). Quaint town that focuses only on selling artesania. Four banks later (ATM machines are very selective), had my cash, contributed to the local economy (they have great sugar covered fresh coconut) and we were out of there.
Embu
We
really thought the “excitement” had died down by Monday. Helder’s rationale –
look at the policemen that were standing on the roads,
large guns ready, in a show of force. We went about our work as planned.
However, right after lunch – we, and the other 25 million people in
Final count – Tuesday May 16, 2006:
Wish
I could take my Brazilian friends back to