I am ashamed, not really like
Trip Start
Feb 18, 2004
1
4
Trip End
Feb 19, 2005
Natal,
Brazil
Friday, October 8, 2004
DAY ONE--Getting to know the locals So off we set for the city of Natal, or in English 'Christmas'. It took us 5 bleedin hours to get there and we vowed to stay off the drink until we requisitioned somewhere to stay. It's easy to do such things here as our superior Western intellects lend us an air of class. 5 boring hours later, after flying through the countryside looking at coconut plantations and families having baths in rivers, we finally arrived in the arsehole of the northeast. It looked like a dump as we drove into it and our suspicions were confirmed by the carousal of riff-raff that polluted the bus station. After waiting on the wrong side of the road for half an hour and being scoffed at by a man who sat beside the bus stop and fixed watches for a living Richie said "Cum-balls to this!" and I tended to agree with him, he's a sharp lad Richie, at times. The taxi that spirited us away from Natal to the beach resort spot of 'Ponta Negra', or 'Black Point' (cos there's a shit-load of blacks there if you're wondering. And don't think thats racist, because it's not) was driven by a fat wanker. The fat prick asked us where we were from and we said Ireland. "Where's that?" says he? "Why it's in the sea" says me. Says he to me "Ahhh, it doesn't matter you are all the same anyway". The great thing about Brasilian taxis is that you can smoke and drink in them. Sometimes the driver will even stop off at a petrol station and pick up a few tins if he feels left out. So we smoked and drank and closed our eyes tight and hoped he wouldn't crash as he swerved blindly between lanes and beeped alot--to signal past maneuvers-- and we knew that our adventure was astartin. We forced the flatulent fat fuck to stop as soon as I spied a castle. We threw him R$10 and told him to Fuck off when he asked for more. That's not rude here, though we were beginning to feel like English stag weekend boors. My newly skint scalp, I realised, was more suited to hooliganish behaviour so I dropped the pirate idea and decided to be decidedly rude to everyone but drug dealers and beautiful women. Our castle, a wonderfully ancient 1980s construction was splendid. We unpacked as adventurers do and walked down the really bloody steep hill to the beach. "Oh my!" shouted Richie as we gazed upon this idyllic stretch of coastline, "What a fine, fine ass." He was right you know, he's not oft wrong when it comes to Brasilian ladies bottoms. So we had a spot of lunch in a reasonably clean hovel and commenced drinking. Now, at this point it wasn't a very good adventure, truth be told, and we were quite glum. So we made a conscious decision to get to know the whores along the stretch. Natal has the highest concentration of putas, as they are called here, in the North-East of Brasil. So we chatted to Francisca and Nathally--good to see that this scumbag name is indicative of social class here in the developing world too--and goofed about with the 'too good-looking to be a street whore' Fabianna. She only charged R$200 a shag from Fat Krauts and slender china-hipped Italian metrosexuals who can't find anyone to ride them in Italy but spend the majority of their disposable income on 'cars' and hair gel. With our adventure looking more Secret Seven than Fear and Loathing we decided we needed some drugs. And it was a wise, shrewd move on our behalf as this pleasant young street peddler called Biggy Biggy brought us to his tent on the beach and got us royally stoned. After this we watched some footy-volley and I was accused of being a capitalist by some street kid cos I wouldn't give him free money. 'Get a job son, shine some shoes, become a pickpocket. Show some ambition for Heaven's sake!" But my Portuguese isn't good enough to say this so I found my self digging into my stylish skin-tight shorts and thrusting my most tattered, lowest note to him and telling him to FUCK OFF after he'd thanked me. These kids need a firm hand. We tried to buy more weed off the rastas selling cheap ethnic clobber but the cops were smelling a rat, or more probably the possibility of bribing some gringos, so it was a no-go and back to the booze. But we'd befriended the local druggies/street-vendors and a few influential putas to boot. But we left it at that and climbed the steep hill, 10 Constitution Hills steep it was, only to be accosted by an amiable wench and her man-whore friend who said she'd suck my cock for R$25. After some chit-chat and bargaining, Richie copped it was a man and began to get the Fear. So we left, having browbeaten the bloke in a dress down to R$23.50, saying that despite the generous offer we didn't like our respective penii being stimulated by men and to FUCK OFF out of it you man you. To our delight there was a 'chic' grooooovy nouvo nite-club in the Dungeon of the castle. Lined from wall to wall with suppurating Gash it was, but rich gash, gash with cars that had central locking. Gash that didn't respond to the old reliable chat-up lines like " Give me a kiss", " Lets go to a motel" and "per que voce e tao linda?" (why are you so lovely?) so Richie told me. Gash that was hard to bag, persistence is the word here and Richie is a dogged bastard alright. As I retired, fucked, over the drawbridge, I glanced over my shoulder to see himself clambering through the passenger window of a Gash car to kiss some fine wench he taken a fancy to.
DAY TWO--Snow in Brasil and the Girl from Ipanema (but with massive boobs)
I had fallen off the top bunk the night before and woken this obese young Religious zealot who was passing through for a holy conference of some sort. Then Richie asked was I OK and he fell out too. So we slept where we lay. He awoke before I had the chance to and was immediately befriended by two Cariocas (people from Rio). One was a alright, powerful, the other was the most voluptuous, mouth-watering cum-inducing woman I have ever seen. Ridiculously beautiful, she had the largest most pert breasts in the South America, I'm sure of it. They were so so big and round and soft yet not droopy and we both fell in love with them. She'll have back problems that one. They were bulging out of her top, spilling over like a medium size cup put under the 'Large' setting in Abrakebabra by a soulless employee and being forgotten about as Natalie thinks of what sale is on in Dunnes and how she'll cloth her 3 year-old daughter and do her Junior Cert and work at the same time but this little lapse will do her no good sir, as the basic error of the cups comes to her attention it spills down the sides of the cup and onto the floor. Rather like the boobs on this young Carioca bird in her sexy green dress. But I'm getting off the point, she doesn't really have anything to do with our adventure, she was just really lovely and class and seemed to enjoy our broken Portuguese, and she was a Marine. They'd come to check out the castle, see if they'd stay here. But they hadn't enough cash, bucks, dosh as we had so they stayed in some grotty hole down the road that wasn't a castle. After they'd left, Richie woke me and told me all about the two of them, how he was sure he'd seen none bigger and rounder in his life. I cursed his eyes and hoped they'd be back. So, what the eh? Still there? Down on the beach there was this bird called Savannah who had lovely 19 year old boobs and lovely 15 year old friends. After securing a neck massage from Savannah, after the fall, Mr. L secured her number but we later seen her walking along with a surf fag that looked like Brad from Neighbours and almost certainly had no hair on his balls. So we sunned up, swam free from the fear of being eaten alive, and had some beer. Then our friends, the cheap wooden shite-whoppers came over and a game of football started after a smoke with the lump this other chap had given us earlier in the day for free as he was embarrassed that he failed to deliver the night before. The match was tough, fast and skillful. We got stuck in Jack Charlton like and fouled the bastards. After I was forced to retire due to alcoholism Richie came to the fore netting a poachers goal with his knee and then squeezing the ball in off the far coconut post from an impossible angle before running into the sea a happy man. So we tramped off home after being capitally ripped off by one of our 'buddies' who sold us the beer. Had a little sleep. Washed. Shaved. Smoked. Shat. Talked to Richie. Relaxed, for there was a momentous night in store for us..... Again, usual scoffing at the dumb brainless waiters that somehow found gainful employment. Calling over some slick haired fancy clothed Italian nonce to laugh at him as Italy trailed to Slovenia 1-0. He didn't get the joke, so we told him to FUCK OFF, and felt even better. We purchased a nice bottle of the local cachaça downed half it and resurrected the pirate feeling that had coloured the beginning of our trip and hid the bottle on the beach for later. We'd flirted with the idea of buying a parrot on the beach earlier. They clip their wings so they cant escape you see. We had decided it a capital idea to procure a parrot and keep it til it died of starvation or alcohol poisoning but the parrot-whopper had disappeared, much to our chagrin. We chatted again to Fabianna the hot hoor until she was captured by a dirty Hun sex tourist with light blue shorts, a bum bag and a fetching pink polo-shirt. The night was getting like the last one so I said "I have a capital idea Richie!" but then so did he and we went in search of some coke, which we got and took from a man who sold fake snake skin and kept going around in circles shouting 'energia my friend'. So we went back to the room where the obese priest-like, chaste and jolly chap was asleeping after a hard days Lord praising "He's just great isn't He?" "Yeah He´s great,and lovely and you know what you guys? Yep, He loves ya, yes He does He loves ya Jesus loves you" "Because I am special?" "He loves everyone, even them nasty Jews that put Him through such agony in that film." So we woke up this guy and offered Him a line, but he declined and went back to sleep, praying for us no doubt. Then we went out and I cant remember much ...... running, door opening, broken bottle, where's me bleedin cash yih bitch, oh bollix, run the fuck run!!! Why are we in this deserted house....why am I feeling scared....Have we any cash.....is she a Hungarian? will this bus bring us back into town....Lets play that guys guitar.....wheres are buried treasure,,,, Waking up lying the wrong way up on the big hill looking at this whores knickers in the blazing heat is odd at the best of times. Richie procured us some beers and we kept trying to feel her up but she kept slapping us but we didn't care cos we needed a man to shrink our brains. Why wouldn't she leave? Then this asshole of a taxi man came over to berate us but we told him he had no ambition and mimicked his every word back at the lazy fucker and told him he no ambition all in Portuguese of course, but we finished by telling him to FUCK OFF in English. We got bored of this wench, "Thank 'ee" said we and went for a wee wee-wee down the hill in view of our Nemesis, the taxi man spam-head.
