Abadiânia, January 12, 2007 - Friday
Trip Start
Dec 31, 2006
1
14
17
Trip End
Jan 13, 2007
Abadiânia, Brazil
Sunday, February 24, 2008
And so I ordered a taxi, got myself ready and for one last time sat in front of the hotel "Amazonas" to read Rudolf Steiner. As it was a working day in the Casa and sessions were under way there, Avenida Frontal wasn't exactly crowded. But Brett, an American I had been seeing from time to time, came by. He was a musician, too.
"You're leaving?" he asked.
"Yes, at two oclock," I answered.
He stopped by and we talked. We came to the subject of his guitar. I asked him if he was playing it.
"No," he said. "I've not touched it for three or four years now."
"How come?!" I was surprised. Then he told me he'd had a friend, another musician, who had been killed. Ever since, he hadn't played. I nodded. Some people react like this, some like that. I told him I was precisely the other way around. Music helps me.
"And what did you play when you played?" I asked.
"Things like Joe Satriani, for example."
I was most certainly not the biggest Joe Satriani fan in the world. Not even in Abadiānia. I saw him once live in concert and after just half an hour his gig became outright boring to me. But one thing should be clear even to every ignorant person, and that is the fact that Joe Satriani plays a mean guitar, whether you like him or not. If Brett as much as thought about playing something that at least resembled it, he had to be good. I told him that.
He smiled.
"What do you think, will you play again?"
"I think I will. I feel the time will soon come for me to start again."
All in all, I had a really good time in Abadiānia. I may not have visited typical Brazil in the sense that there were too many foreigners for Abadiānia to be that typical. I would suspect that even over there, across the highway, where foreigners are a far rarer sight, it's not what you may consider a typical rural Brazil. Because if after ten days here one ends up with five new e-mail addresses, and sixth one possibly coming, and they all read like Steve, Amanda, Axel, Riita, Sasha and Julie, and where the only Brazilian-based one belongs to Sasha the Russian, then it's obvious it's not your typical Brazil.
But I liked Brazil. I liked this ethnic mix, this sassy dressing style of Brazilian women, this friendliness. I guess the thought that I might return to this country one day doesn't look like a stretch at all.
But now it was time to leave first. Taxi arrived, surprisingly almost on time. Actually just a few minutes too late. My journey back home began.
