Churches and Choking Chickens

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We were, in fact, the only two guests left in the Albergue de Juventude Brumas Hostel. Breakfast, eerily, was for us and only us. And as of noon, there was nobody left there, and the employees were finally free to walk around naked without offending anybody.

Before hopping the bus to Lavras Novas (about which I'll go into further detail below), we decided to check out one last church in Ouro Preto. Saõ Francisco de Assis has people buried in its floor. Saõ Francisco de Assis is covered in paintings and sculptures of cartoon characters. I can't explain the part about the people buried in the floor, but the cartoons are easy: The artist, Antonio Francisco Lisboa (1738-1814), became known as Aleijadinho, which translates to "Little Cripple." Due to a disease which might've been leprosy or syphillis, Aleijadinho had no legs or fingers. His style was therefore limited to a simplicity on par with cartoonery, and therefore, this church was covered in cartoons.

Naturally, no photos were allowed to be taken inside the cathedral, not even for the purposes of blogging. But I assure you, and not just because I'm a cartoonist, it was breathtaking.

After fending off a couple of drunk guys at the station who tried to steal our backpacks, we boarded the bus to Lavras Novas. Lavras Novas is a remote little village atop a very tall mountain which began as a quilombo. Quilombos were remote little villages atop very tall mountains, established by runaway slaves who didn't take kindly to being slaves of the not-runaway variety. Nowadays, they're very popular tourist spots on the weekends.

This, however, was a Thursday. And on Thursdays, the only tourists to visit a place like Lavras Novas were me and Eden. Remember in the movies when the shackled runaway cowboy in his underwear, hungry and beaten, steals a horse and goes riding into a tiny unfamaliar town whose scarce population of snarling, suspicious Mexicans all happen to be outside sweeping their porches at the exact moment of his arrival, and they all look up at him, still sneering, and it's made perfectly clear that he doesn't belong here? Yeah, that was us. Except for the shackles, the cowboy, the underwear, the hungry and beaten, the horse, and the Mexicans.

The only places to stay on the tippy-top of the mountain were these really expensive chalets. I prefer to call them "hovels," and for all we know, that's what they were calling them, for the people in the quilombo of Lavras Novas spoke in a dialect only a Portugeuse Pikey could understand. So we wandered down the street, past the free-roaming chickens, cows, horses and mange-ridden dogs, to a slightly lower elevation for slightly lower prices. There we found a restaurant and pousada with reasonable prices for a room with an excellent view. And a whole lot more Portugeuse Pikey talk from the establishment's otherwise adorable owners.

After settling in our room, we managed to understand that they were offering us dinner. Chicken, specifically, which we accepted. They prepared it on a stove heated by real fire, fueled by real burning wood, lit by real burning newspaper. Soon, we were ushered into the kitchen to help ourselves to rice, beans, and some kind of stew. I piled the grub high, including the chicken stew and a link of sausage I found in the mix. I sat and began to eat, and it was delicious.

But that sausage. I couldn't seem to cut it so easily. There was some force inside of it trying to... "fight back," if you will. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that mysterious force was...

A spine.

I was eating the chicken's goddam NECK.

I quickly looked up at the kitchen. The owners and their kin were partaking in the same meal. They had given Eden and I a portion of their family dinner, and if I didn't eat this bird's neck, they'd do me in for sure.

I stabbed, I pried, I bit.

Folks, I can only chew so much larynx. I shoved the rest of the rubbery throat to the side and hoped they wouldn't notice me throw it out.

It was one of the most mortifying experiences I've ever had.

I love this town.

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Photos

Lookin' Over Yonder
In this case, "Yonder" is a runaway slave town called "Lavras Novas."

Somebody Put a Leash on That Thing
I was going to write a caption here about runaway slaves vs. runaway horses, but I thought that might be crossing a line or something.

Woman Carrying a Faggot
Yes, it's okay to say "faggot" in this instance.

Comments

[drae j namaste-rose]

good times.
i love that town too. get out of there!

[[e-mail]]

in the NECK of time.
I am late in reading mail but the NECK of a chicken was grandma O's favorite!! She heartily munched with both hands on the neck. You were raised by a NECK hater, hense no experience in munching necks. Munch on!!