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Upon a high ridge way back a dirt road north of the park they erected a statue to the local mountain hermit, Juquin of the Mountains. He did not like to work, just hung out in the highlands. There was a little cold beer and fresh roasted meat trailer there in case you needed to stock up, never seen that in the US. The cold beer went well with the sun’s radiation and sweeping views. After returning to reality, we went into Belo Horizonte for dental work, I dreaded it...but guess what...for $13 I got two cavities filled and the wife got her braces adjusted. No waiting, no social security number required, no x-rays, no Novocain, no pain, no BS. So if you make it down here and need dental work, it's a fraction of the price with much improved service. ******************************************* New Spirits - Novos Espíritos I seem to have a new friend here, no crows but there is what I am told is an eagle. Bit smaller than a crow, black with white bands on the wings and a tail. He appears occasionally to punctuate certain thoughts I am having. This happened to me with ravens in Oregon and New Mexico and, of course, crows in Tennessee, New York, and probably the whole of Appalachia. Work certainly did not give me much time to listen to and watch these guys. Superstition Mountains? Perhaps. I’ve been there you know. More than once. Yesterday was very still in the evening after days of steady wind and good kite flying to be had, I imagined that the local big ridge would be an excellent place to fly a hang glider, imagined it falling away from my feet as I launched and caught the big wave. The little eagle appeared as if to accent this thought. So, the spirits watch me here too, good to know. Anyway, back to the still air of evening, no wind, to faz cantos com nossa wind chime, nada. I remembered ridge soaring in North Georgia up on Lookout Mountain, long ago, far away. I awoke early, listened to the rooster and figured it was about five-thirty, still dark. Given all the documentation I’ve been through recently I now know that I was born at about five-thirty in the morning and wonder if this is why I am awake now? Another baby on the way and this one is mine! I wonder how they come up with the time of birth? When the baby first appears? When they cut the cord? To precisely
punctuate this question our wind chimes touched and then went silent as
they have been for a day and a night. Guess I had my answer? This
pad here in Montreal is great, seems to be “spirit central”; this was Carolina’s
portal to the world. I knew someone was there a day or so prior to the
conception. Another peculiar event occurred during this time as well, startling
and casting into doubt at a later date my sanity.
Here at spirit central were often dreams of clear water, the clear water dreams began in Brasil shortly after I started sleeping with the woman who is now my wife. When I first mentioned sonyo do agua to her she asked limpo ou sujo? “Clean,” I said, “clear, and very beautiful…limpo, claro e muito bonita.” **************************************** Now have a temporary visa that lets me stay indefinitely with permanent residence visa to follow soon which will allow me to work, have a bank account, etc. As for happiness, I think the guys that penned the US constitution where correct to say "pursuit of happiness." For now lots of hard work, some stress, but things coming together and I'm beginning to unwind...not sure I want to go back to work! I'm becoming Brasilian? Things seem to "click" routinely with the wife, never had that before. And best of all, she is a great cook! She whipped up some pesto the other day, best I've had anywhere and it was the first time she ever made it! Fresh herbs and almonds…the way to a man’s heart? Meanwhile it’s life on the fringe in a small bairro called Montreal with a great view of the Serra do Curral here called the “Rola Moça” meaning Rolling Woman since their flanks are nearly vertical in places...once rolling down those slopes you don’t stop. Carolina was most probably conceived here (latest ultrasound shows a face that looks a lot like me!). We have a fantastic 180 deg view from the porch and lots of fresh fruit and good bird watching. But the wife wants to move into town for the convenience and to escape the reminders that her first love got 5 bullets in his head a couple blocks from here. As old Jim said, "There's danger on the edge of town…” Me, I’d rather stay here or move further out. ************************************************************* Another Day On The Beautiful Horizon - Um Outro Dia No Belo Horizonte Another short story that spins out of staying awake writing in the bairro. Late in the evening, rising chants with a female lead cranked up. First, I wondered if it was related to the evangelista’s or what I was told was instrumental native stuff coming from the next door down. Remember the day’s street fest, food, beers, small objects and clothes. Spices, pure honey, and fish and fresh herbs. Muscular men engaged in non-contact ritual combat in synch with live musicians having features I assumed were native types from the Amazon, the player had instruments that could be both plucked and beaten. The entire scene was viewed by a tight circle of spectators, I was glad to be in the outer row of viewers as the dancers were often airborne upside down throwing kicks. These guys were seriously dangerous dudes. But moving
back to the ranting next door I decided to go out, have a smoke and listen
to this ever more frantic ritual, could not decide if it was something
native, chanting from a church, or an African sex rite. The red warm light
of flickering flames emanated from the same space as the sounds, somehow
eerie. It became increasingly violent but then just sorta stopped. Our
pup was scared but it made for good writing music. I had weird dreams.
Standing again on the terrace of the Penthouse, working on the buy it deal. Gazing at the big ridge and the other high knobs of the city, the pastel high rises did not look too bad against the scene. Plenty of trees and clean streets. There I stood, higher than Montreal. We missed the ornery-bus and got tired of choking on truck and bus smoke and noise. Was fun to watch the motor bikers, gotta be a high mortality rate, high speed lane splitting in curves perfectly lawful. Flagged a taxi and drove off into the mechanized madness. Por Favor! Get me back to Montreal. Making headway toward the highway home, we past the scene of something, several military police smartly dressed in black berets, black flak jackets, black boots and light brown, nearly tan khakis. The police kept the crowd at a distance and the only evidence of an accident was a very large fresh pool of blood on the street. Appeared as though a fatal amount had been spilled; a bicyclist, motorcyclist, a shooting, not sure what. I thought about the black 600 cc second hand enduro I had looked at buying today. The taxi driver was either too laid back or blind, not sure which, had trouble seeing the various speed bumps after exiting the main lane. I could see the bumps and I was not driving. Monday continued. Got home, checked the plants and watched the moon get brighter. Someone was playing sappy country music on maybe the doe-bro…pretty broad spectrum, could not help smiling. Later that evening I was told that the “Indian” sounds of yesterday were local boys playing music and that the chanting I heard at midnight were either evangelista’s or all in my head as my wife had heard nothing. ********************************************** Went out on Saturday with the brother-in-law, Anderson. He swapped bikes with me since mine is such a piece of junk. We net gained around a 1000' but did not make the big ridge. Just as we where on top of a high, steep foot hill and about to escape the trash zone, my drive ratchet failed...so if you did not pedal, the chain wound up in the rear wheel spokes. Again we swapped bikes. Anderson rode that damn thing down a steep mountain with his feet on the upper frame so the pedals would free wheel madly. Hell, I was scared on a good bike with better brakes and good drive mechanism. Anyway, we will make it to the big ridge one day but I will need a better bike. To be continued. The following are Shane's previous articles for the magazine:
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In Brazil ~ 