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September 26, 2004

26/9/4 Domingo

I just got back from another glorious weekend at the Santos’ Gramado home.  I am in love with that place.  I got to fall asleep to the sound of crickets chirping and water running along the streambed in the folds of the hills below; and when I woke up in the morning and opened the wooden shutters to greet the world, the lush, verdant landscape in front of me was awash in golden sunlight.  If my description sounds like a fairy tale, it is because it FEELS like I’m in a fairy tale when I am at there.  I spent nearly the entire morning between breakfast and lunch writing in my journals from a chair facing the window simply because the surroundings are so inspiring (and because I have a lot to write about).  All the while, the smooth and exotic yet upbeat melodies of Chico Buarque wafted upstairs from the living room below.

Around 13:00 today, Sr. and Sra. Santos and I began arranging a table on the back patio from which to eat lunch, but at 13:15, just before the meatloaf was ready to come out of the oven, thunder rumbled into the valley and the sky dumped a deluge of 5-millimeter, perfectly round hail balls that soon turned into a pouring rain.  So we pulled the table and chairs inside and moved the salad and silverware back downstairs to the kitchen to settle down to lunch while the rain nourished the flora and fauna outside.

Nature’s incredible diversity amazes me.  Yesterday we went to the annual orchid festival held in Gramado where I saw hundreds and hundreds of flowers, each with its own unique shape and coloring–and these were just orchids, one flower among thousands of types of flowers.  Sr. Santos pointed out to me in a flower guide he has at their home that there are 20,000 species of orchids alone.  20,000!!  Why on earth do we have to go around making hybrids when nature already offers such an array of wonders to enjoy?  Is it because we can’t handle not being in control?

I was disappointed to leave when Sra. Santos and I had to head to the bus station at 17:00 to catch our bus back to Porto Alegre, but so thankful that I got to spend my weekend in such a gorgeous, peaceful place.  It’s as close as I can get here to summer nights in Pine Grove Mills, where I can also hear crickets chirping and the water running down Tussey Mountain and tumbling into the cave behind the houses across Nixon Road.  I miss those nights.  But I’m doing well here and feelings rejuvinated for my next month in Brazil. 

From → Brazil, Uncategorized

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