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Published: January 27th 2009
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The final installment, the last part of the chapter, the end. Well I am sure that most of you are glad, you don´t have to read anymore inane comments written by a pair of illiterate goofballs or look at pictures taken from the wrong angle of two tall pale people. We are less than a week away from coming home, so it won´t be long before we all meet up again and the history of the past twelve months are swapped. The babies that have been born, the newly engaged folk and the tales that could not be told over the web. I feel as the creative energy has slipped through my grasp, so the final outing will be short and forgetable, a little like Duncs intimate encounters. Also I must apologise to all of the people that have been the brunt of some cruel jokes, all of them were meant in jest and none hold any weight, except the rumour about Matthew being touched by monks when at school (fact, the only way he got good grades).
Our plan was too chill out and relax for the end of our trip, take the seven remaining days and spend them
on the beach, soaking up the sun and surfing the light away. We had heard that a little place no more than 100km´s north of Rio would supply all of these, so we hoped onto the bus and arrived at the town. Saquarema is a holiday place, with many accomodation options that include Pousadas and hostels. A bit like Barry Island, just take away the brain dead joy riders, used needles and plethora of pushchirs with L plates and you would be almsot there. We opted for a lovely place called Saqua Hostel, it came with a pool, BBQ and two great dogs, with the gentle nature of the owner to add it was perfect for some R&R.
The rest of the guys in the place were mostly from the states (never mind), so we exchanged the typical travel info and throughout the first evening talked about homeland and homeward journey. It was strange as these guys who lived in NY had actually heard of the 'mumbles mile', can you believe it?, they had seen it on TV and are thinking about coming over to do it. There were a couple of Gold coast Aussie girls who had been
staying there for some time which produced a funny mix of comments, when we watched the swearing in of Barack Obama. The Americans were very focused with the proceedings, only to have the Aussie chicks taking the mick out of them at regular intervals for being American, one of them was the niece of the Aussie prime minister as well. The 'occa' Aussie strikes again, with a strong breeze all you can hear is the wind rushing through their ears and out the other side. All with a winey, screechy sound that follows.
The weather was a blistering 35 deg when we arrived and for us to get our bearings we opted to watch the sunset on the beach, with a few cold ones in hand and a retrospective view of what we had achieved over the past year. We chatted about past stories until the sun disappeared, then returned to the hostel and continued to natter amongst the group.
Another scorcher was promised and boy did it deliver, it seemed much hotter than Rio and so we opted for a day around the beach and then a few well needed shade periods so that we did not
end up returning to the UK as a lobster. I had been up early in the morning for a great surf, so I was more than saited and able to enjoy the clean 5ft waves hitting the coast. Saquarema is the mecca of competition surfing in Brazil, it boasts a swell magnet beach with white fine grains of sand. Each year it has a few competitions and as you can presume it draws a crowd for most swells. We walked a few times trying to look around the coast and in between opted for a nice beachside lunch.
There were new arrivals in the evening and we chilled outside in the hammocks until the clocks had struck one and then the beds were calling their masters. During our time outside we witnessed a magnificent thunderstorm, it had started when I was surfing in the afternoon but with an array of lighting and deafening thunder it produced an sense battering spectacle for all to admire. The type of storm that reminds you of the power that the natural environment has, the influence that it instills on our being and how little we can do when the meterological eruption occurs.
Unfortunately the next day produced the gloom and grey weather that we receive at home so readily, this was not meant to be the script for this part of the play. It seems that everytime we opt for some down time on the beach, it turns into a storm. So with a bit of sky TV, internet, surf and regular visits for fried food we managed to get through the day without too much of a huff or puff. The only worry was the colour of the swimming pool that had turned a toxic green, not jumping into that little baby again.
Over the next couple of days the situation did not change much, the weather was a bit poor but the swell was still pumping, every cloud has a silver lining. We spent our time having BBQ´s and chilling with the dogs, Hannah and Poopy.
The last couple of days saw the searing heat reappear, with the thought of arriving home in the wintry conditions we sought the most amount of rays possible. Getting parts of the body tanned that had not even seen the sun, Smith cleared the beach with a patch of his upper thigh
at one point. With all of the toys of beach tennis, surfboard and umbrella in tow we found ourselves mixing in with the local weekend crowd. The more bronzed the better in Brazil, that is the logo for skin cancer adverts here and we followed the lead with our time spent firmly on the soft stuff. As we sat watching the sunset on the last evening it provided a poignant moment for both of us. We had done it, lived the dream and now we are coming back.
Leaving Squarema was not the final hurdle, we still had a couple of bus rides to take back to Rio. We stayed the one night, trying to escape the hoards of mossies biting and remove all of the bits and bobs that the British customs might deem illegal. These were not narcotic based but the underwear that both Em and I have worn around the world. I would not be surprised if they actually make their own way back home, the smell would peel of acne. So here we are, sat in the last internet cafe, typing away about what will occur over the next few hours. Coming back was inevitable,
an entity that could not be stopped but all adventures come to an end however we reckon that once one finishes another starts.
See ya soon!!!!!!!!!!! But not you Baker.
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Nostalgia
Aww. I actually feel sad. I won't miss the constant e-mails telling me to check out the blog of the Welsh Wanderers only to be disappointed by Stuart's total lack of grammar and syntax, but for what it's worth, after the journey is done it's always a wise man who can look forward and not lament the past. So well done if indeed that is where you're at. Well done you two, you made it through and painfully brought us with you, meal by meal and stomach upset by stomach upset. I hope home is what you hope it to be and, though I know you won't share this sentiment Stones, I wish I could be there to greet your arrival. All the best dudes. Peace.