Travelling 101; #9: Change

Another one to baffle first time travellers is the inability of shop owners to provide change to customers.
Now, I'm not talking about paying for a pack of chewing gum with a 100 dollar note, i'm talking purchasing products totalling 4 spondulux and handing over a 10 spondulux note. The look of pure fear that passes over a shopkeep's face is a delight. They will first ask you if you have nothing smaller, you reply "no". They will then look even more worried and start to fluster, perhaps rooting in a drawer underneath the counter. They will then check their pockets, shout into the backroom where granny is watching the TV and perhaps shout at a friend on the street. Eventually after a massive combined effort and perhaps a 10 minute wait (when all you wanted was a bottle of water) you will receive your correct change. Actually sometimes you will not be allowed purchase a product due to lack of correct funds. In Ecuador I once tried to buy a bar of chocolate in a supermarket (no less) with a 10 dollar note. She had no change and wasn't budging, so I left the supermarket sans chocolate.

On a mildly related note mathematical ability is quite lacking in most of latin america. You buy an apple for 2.5 thingemebobs and a pear for 1.5 thingemebobs and the shopkeep will normally get the calculator out. Any more than 2 items and it is for certain. You then hand over a 10 thingemebob note and the calculator is once more called for to work out the correct change.

One boat ticket vendor in Brazil was also a shooting star in the maths realm. Although all the man sold on a day to day basis was a single boat ticket to the value of 170 reals he would still have to break out the calculator for more than one ticket. I mean honestly could he not have learned his 170 times tables?? Worse still is when the people in front of me ordered 4 tickets. He typed in 170 + 170 = + 170 = + 170 =... I nearly rammed the calculator down his throat. Maybe his multiply key was broken...

And GOD help you if you decide to aid a shopkeeper by providing them with an amount which will ensure a single note of change. If the bill comes to 6 whatchamacallits and you hand them a 10 whatchamacallit note and a 1 whatchamacallit coin they will look at you like you have 42 heads and have just eaten their new born grandchild. I once had a girl in Colombia almost in tears by doing such a nasty thing. Once her lip started to quiver I had to tell her it was OK and to just give me 5000 pesos.

Jericoacoara

Getting to Jericoacoara (or just simply "Jeri" as all the cool kids call it) proved to be one last slog. The final part of the journey being in a open sided truck with benches on it. We made our way down dusty tracks, which decreased in width until we were eventually driving along the beach. It was like sitting on a washing machine and I lost count the number of times I bashed my head off the roof while suspended in mid air. Just as sunset was kicking in we rounded a corner and Jeri appeared oasis like before us. I'd heard lots of good things about the place and they all proved to be true minutes after clambering out of the truck. There were no real streets, just paths covered in sand. Horses roamed the main "street" which was littered with restaurants, bars and little Caipirinha stands which sold cachaca or vodka mixed with every imaginable fruit. Just out of the truck I was approached by a tout offering a place to stay in a pousada. Being tired and easy going I just said "sure" and followed him. This proved to be an extremely wise decision as the tout in question was called Itamar and from what I have seen and heard since, owns the best pousada in Jeri. A small house with a big communal dinner table, 2 comfy sofas, loads of board games, a big TV with lots of DVDs and hammocks were liberally sprinkled everywhere to ensure you didn't have to walk too far before falling into one.

I stayed 10 days with Itamar and various Slovenians, Estonians, Canadians, Italians, Germans & Americans and must say that it was definitely the most relaxing time since perhaps the Little Corn Islands. My days consisted of getting up late, having some coffee (made by Itamar), retiring to my hammock for a read and a snooze, down to the beach, sunset from atop the massive sand dune, followed by dinner (also normally made by Itamar or one of his friends) and Cocktails (once again served up by Itamar before we hit the town. His favourite being cachaca, pineapple and mint).

So as not to atrophy I decided to learn to Kitesurf. With my Slovenian sidekick we persuaded Cale, a chilled Canadian to show us the ropes. So for 3 days we sat in a lagoon and let ourselves be dragged around by a 7 meter square kite which would fly around the place like a banshee due to the extremely high winds found in Jeri from August to January. In all other "extreme" sports (I hate that expression, but let's face it there is an inherent difference between badminton and snowboarding) you can drop the method of propulsion (windsurfing, wakeboarding) or just fall over (snowboarding, mountain biking, surfing), but in Kitesurfing you are actually physically attached to the kite and letting go won't do too much good (depending on the kite). Controlling the kite is easy enough - pull the bar right, kite goes right. The only tricky part is if you turn right and the kite goes from being on your left side to your right side, you will effectively be putting the kite in the full force of the wind for a couple of seconds. This lead to hillarious (for the bystander) and decidely painful consequences as Slovenian and I did 3 meter backflips in the air as the kite yanked us out of the water and tossed us into the air. After 3 days of battering and brusing we finally managed to get the hang of it and I was up on the board for at least half a second. This is not a sport for instant successes.

But after all this excitement and relaxation it was time for something else, so one afternoon slightly bored I booked a flight to Rio for the next day. Nothing like improvising.