Once or twice a week there is an outing. We then go to 'Vila. That's short for Villa Nova Sintra, the capital or the main village of Brava. Especially for the bank, the Town Hall and other official business and shopping. Occasionally also stopped by to Nossa Senhora del Monte, the village on top of the mountains to the west, for even more shopping in the previously described Shop Sinkel satori / Jan doodle.
Last Friday (this is on October 5) it was again: there was long awaited mail waiting in the post office at us. The mail must get you to come here at the post office; they do not bring it. João and I went there early in the morning on out. After an hour wait at some jokingly 'salle di Spera (waiting room) is called, just before leaving the road Faja d'Agua mountain in, there seemed to be no car. Totoi, a returning emigrant from America, kept this time; He also had to go to Villa and has a car. After João several people still got some shopping along came the gold-colored Jeep Cherokee for driving. That's a luxury rather than the back of the garbage truck or just a aluguer. We stopped satori only twice en route, mainly to exchange voucher slides, stand dretu and other pleasantries. For the first time so driven satori to luxury villa, with springs in the seats and so quickly: in roughly fifteen minutes we were there. satori
First, the post office. João had to sign for the express mail from the United States and I could open it. What was in it was a bit disappointing. A complete contract of sale, in Portuguese, thus somewhat difficult to read. I decided to fax it straight to Ilidio Cruz, our lawyer satori in Praia. João was now the lotto numbers from Ricardo to return and more of those messages are doing. satori After faxing Ilidio I decided to just call immediately, but unfortunately, there was no answer.
Some errands with the now returned João and soon we were in a van to Nosse Senhora del Monte. That's a fairly satori large village and after we disembarked we were still had a long way to climb to get to João's first address. We had to wait quite some time before the wanted man came out and was extended talked. I could follow it very badly. Walked back Joao told me that the best man had to deliver stuff to Manuel Burgo. That's the owner of a local guesthouse adjoining village pub Faja d'Agua. We were stopped by the paint supplier and our paint appeared to have arrived. satori I spoke with Jan Doedel that I would pick it up on the way back. First we were indeed looking for Ivan, the elektraman. That project is already a week or so silent because Ivan lack of a telephone is not found, and since intermediary Tony, the man of the church, on Fogo is because of a cousin who had an accident. But right now, João and I were determined to find Ivan. Alley, alleyway off, uphill, downhill and on inquiring at one corner were assigned a large house with blue window frames. Ivan the Terrible (I like to call him now) doing well, I thought. But just before we went home a small stone stairs and then a ladder until we came to a small house that looked as if yesterday had been in the firing line. After knocking appeared a little satori girl at the door. And whether her father was home she shook. A moment later her mother who confirmed that. She scored João's telephone number and that was the maximum possible this day.
It was a bit cloudy so there was no sun and we were high up in the mountains, so all in all it was pleasantly cool. João knew a shortcut home; on the roads to Faja d'Agua counter noon yet no cars so we had to walk anyway.
From Ivan we walked a lot uphill satori on a paved road, then put it down into a tiny hamlet. We now stopped for the third time in another small house with another old woman. The first was an aunt of João, the second satori was a kind of family, and the third party was also an aunt whom he had not spoken by some sort of quarrelsome something, so I understood.
After talking with many courtesies we ran an unpaved path which soon narrowed. "Camio the animal" (the way of the animals) called João good spirits and given the excrement seemed that way. The path narrowed not only, but also became steeper. Rocks interspersed with tall weeds and what I looked anxiously at my scuffed toe slippers. Those were the last heavy. It is not really the ideal mountain footwear and I did not want to think about halfway up to my bare feet must ... Occasionally I took a nasty thorn from the sole. And look, the sun also came through! The first drops passed my sleep. The trail became even closer, actually you could hardly va
