Happy New Year …

Happy New Year from Brasilia; we’ve moved inland now.

Brasilia is something of a weird place in the way that many manufactured capital cities are. Brasilia is perhaps weirder than most in no short measure due to it being founded as an exercise in showing that Brazil could do order! As a result you have to pinch yourself to remember that you are, indeed, in the country of the Samba. But more about Brasilia later.

We’re staying with relatives who have a four month old baby, so a big night a revelry was out of the question. We enjoyed a lovely meal instead.

It no way was it a quiet evening though. The Brazilians love their fireworks, especially the loud ones. From midday on it sounded as if we were living in a war zone. Dogs hated it and in this area ever house has a big dog to guard it. This dog chorus added to the sense of impending chaos.

As midnight approached the fireworks exploded with increasing regularity. They rang out for a full 360 degrees. Each massive explosion was preceded by a lighting up of the sky the looked for all the world like the effect of mortar fire. All that was missing was the tracer bullet streams.

At midnight the explosions became so prolific that their sound blended into one. Suddenly we had moved from a war zone to an earthquake zone. There were some pretty fireworks on the horizon though it is quite clear these are not first preference. Given 100 Reals to spend on fireworks it’s clear that Brazilians would rather spend another 25 on just noisy versions rather than buying anything of any artistic merit. I did wonder whether this was a kind of ironic statement against the all too recent memories of military dictatorship. There are no chimes here just more would be explosions. As the earthquake subsided clouds of explosive drifted across an otherwise cloudless sky.

As I write it is early afternoon on New Year’s Day. The silence of the day is still being perforated by the occasional heavy arms fire.

It all seems a long way from Snowdonia. But I’m reminded that a few years ago we moved our New Year campsite from Nant to Capel precisely because the huge quarry had become a venue for all night raves.

It still seems odd not to be freezing to death. But I’m getting used to it. The weather here is like that of a perfect, English, summer day.