Itapúa praia
I went to the beach yesterday, for the first time in a while, with some folks from work. And I remembered why I don't go to the beach that much: it's boring. I might be being a bit harsh here because I had as good a time as could possibly have been had talking, making fun of and being made fun of by the people from work. We went to Itapúa beach, which, judging by the amount ot people there, has to be one of the most popular beaches in this hemisphere. All along the beach (and there are miles and miles of it) there are restaurants and cafés, the tables and chairs of which are placed right in the sand only a few yards from the water. Itapúa is particularly narrow so the water is right there, but at the same time it would be nice if there was a little more room between you and the screaming kids and other people splashing around in the water. There are a few much larger, much nicer in my opinion beaches near the airport, which have names like Flamingo and Ipitanga, but they're a 20-30 minute drive away, which is part of the reason they're so much nicer because fewer people have access to them.
Ivanildo picked me up in front of my building around 10am. I wasn't sure if he was going to show because it had rained hard a little bit earlier in the morning, and for an hour or so was completely overcast. The big difference in Bahian weather and someplace like, say, New York, is that in NY you know that if it rains a lot in the morning it's a good bet that it's going to be raining for the rest of the day. In Bahia it can pour for two hours in the morning, and there's still a 90% chance you'll have sunny weather for the rest of the day. Yesterday was a mix - it rained a couple times in the afternoon while we were sitting on the beach, which wasn't a problem as far as getting wet is concerned. We were under a big umbrella and in bathing suits anyways, and it didn't do much more than sprinkle a couple of times. The downside, for me anyway, was that it was tough getting any steady exposure to sun to get some of that desperately needed skin color. I sat in the partial sun for a good two hours, sweating my brains out for a good part of it, and this morning I still look like the whitest Whitey McWhiteguy you've seen anywhere.
I must admit that although I like to swim I am in no way a fan of the seaweed or whatever other plants it was that were choking the water when I went in. There must have been some offshore storm or something because there were washed-up plants lining the beach and underfoot when you stood in the water. I could only stand it for maybe 10 minutes before I felt something wrap around my ankle and decided I was too skeeved out to stay. And then when I went into my pockets looking for my keys, etc., (which I'd forgotten I'd put in the bag I'd brought with me) I got a couple of handfuls of seaweed instead of what I'd been looking for. The folks in the car ride back weren't really impressed, either, when I put my sunglasses on after taking them out of my pockets; it took me a minute to realize that the reason I couldn't see anything was because the lenses were splotched with broken spinach-looking-like pieces of seaweed from my pockets.
One highlight of the beach was our waiter, who sprinted everywhere he went. This looked particularly dangerous when he came sprinting from the food shack and jumped off the 3 or so steps that divide the restaurants' cooking areas with the part of the beach that people sit on. He got at least 3 feet of air one time. And many times he was balancing a tray of drinks or whatever, and was somehow able to take the impact of landing in the hard sand without dropping anything major. I really wanted to stop him at some point and make some wisecrack like, "Pick it up, will you?", since this is one of the few complete sentences I'm able to formulate. In my recent experience, however, it's sure-thing jokes like these which always bomb terribly due to some unknown by me cultural difference, or just as likely, extremely poor timing on my part.
Ivanildo picked me up in front of my building around 10am. I wasn't sure if he was going to show because it had rained hard a little bit earlier in the morning, and for an hour or so was completely overcast. The big difference in Bahian weather and someplace like, say, New York, is that in NY you know that if it rains a lot in the morning it's a good bet that it's going to be raining for the rest of the day. In Bahia it can pour for two hours in the morning, and there's still a 90% chance you'll have sunny weather for the rest of the day. Yesterday was a mix - it rained a couple times in the afternoon while we were sitting on the beach, which wasn't a problem as far as getting wet is concerned. We were under a big umbrella and in bathing suits anyways, and it didn't do much more than sprinkle a couple of times. The downside, for me anyway, was that it was tough getting any steady exposure to sun to get some of that desperately needed skin color. I sat in the partial sun for a good two hours, sweating my brains out for a good part of it, and this morning I still look like the whitest Whitey McWhiteguy you've seen anywhere.
I must admit that although I like to swim I am in no way a fan of the seaweed or whatever other plants it was that were choking the water when I went in. There must have been some offshore storm or something because there were washed-up plants lining the beach and underfoot when you stood in the water. I could only stand it for maybe 10 minutes before I felt something wrap around my ankle and decided I was too skeeved out to stay. And then when I went into my pockets looking for my keys, etc., (which I'd forgotten I'd put in the bag I'd brought with me) I got a couple of handfuls of seaweed instead of what I'd been looking for. The folks in the car ride back weren't really impressed, either, when I put my sunglasses on after taking them out of my pockets; it took me a minute to realize that the reason I couldn't see anything was because the lenses were splotched with broken spinach-looking-like pieces of seaweed from my pockets.
One highlight of the beach was our waiter, who sprinted everywhere he went. This looked particularly dangerous when he came sprinting from the food shack and jumped off the 3 or so steps that divide the restaurants' cooking areas with the part of the beach that people sit on. He got at least 3 feet of air one time. And many times he was balancing a tray of drinks or whatever, and was somehow able to take the impact of landing in the hard sand without dropping anything major. I really wanted to stop him at some point and make some wisecrack like, "Pick it up, will you?", since this is one of the few complete sentences I'm able to formulate. In my recent experience, however, it's sure-thing jokes like these which always bomb terribly due to some unknown by me cultural difference, or just as likely, extremely poor timing on my part.
posted by n10471 at 7:24 AM
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