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That would be ”Happy New Year” in Portuguese for all you Gringo Northies.  Sean and I are down in de ”Ghettobootyfabuland of America”.  Garapoba, Brazil.  Pronounced Ghetto Poppa.

Just a question to ponder.  Have you ever wondered why we’re the only people that call ourselves ”Americans” while those from Canada, Central and South America don’t?  Why not ”Staties” or ”Unites”.  Just a thought.

We arrived into Florianopolis around 0900 on the 29th.  Flying from San Jose, Costa Rica to Lima, Peru to Sau Paulo, Brazil.  Customs was an ease and they didn’t even check our $110 Visa.  Required only because the US Government started charging Brazilians.  So Brazil now charges Americans.  Beautiful.  Nor did they look to see if we had our required Vaccinations that cost me $300.

The Dan’s (Dan and Daniela Greenamyre from Leavonworth, KS) were there waiting for us when we arrived.  Packing our items into their luxury rental (a Fiat Celebration, two door) we headed off to our beach house in Garopaba.  About 90 KM from Florianopolis.  Daniela’s friends were throwing there annual NYE celebration.  Having about 30 out of 80 total stay in a four house just off the beach.  Best way to describe it for those who know…a mixture between Spring Break in Colorado and 4th of July in San Diego.  Blissful Chaos.  Everyone is piled in four houses.  One house for single girls, one house for single boys, and two houses for couples.  Each house having its own Churrasco BBQ pit.

Churrasco is a Southern Brazil style BBQ.  They call it BBQ but its really grilling.  Over and open fire pit.  The difference is, they grill A LOT.  Far more than my Weber could ever imagine.  With only rock salt, long spears, and fire.  On occasion I saw some cilantro thrown on there.  Talk about a transition.  A month of being a vegetarian and a week of fasting immediately to eating grilled chicken hearts, pork, cow, leg, arm, you name it, we ate it.

Dan, knowing I love to grill and am a self proclaimed grill master (youngest black belt EVER), told the guys we were staying with I’d love to help.  The drunker they got the more loose they got with their pit.  Finally giving me the reins.  Eager to take over I started checking the meat for firmness…calculating hot spots in the fire…reminiscing to days gone by where I wasn’t allowed to touch a spatula.  That being a trade reserved for adults, not minors, as my father told me.

Using all my apprenticed skills I noticed a weak spot in the system.  A drooping corner of the grate.  Providing the possibility of a cataclysmic meat dismount into the flame below.  So, I reached to adjust…in my haste and rookie state my hand stumbled a bit under the wait of three roasts…the latter side of the grate gave way, sliding out of its concrete hole and the entire front end fell into the flame.  As if fearing the, ”I told you so” I quickly looked around.  To my humiliation the eyes of the Brazilian Masters locked onto mine…the music seemed to stop…as they ran over to assist me in my blunder.  Pulling the grate up and saving the 30 lbs of meat resting on top of it.  For that I was reduced to ping pong, eating, and the occasional sarcastic joke that Americans didn’t know how to BBQ.  So, I apologize to my fellow countrymen.  For the moment, I have let you all down.

In the next few days I managed to regain a little composure with the guys.  They allowed me to chop some garlic and wash lettuce…actually, they didn’t let me near the kitchen again.  So, I was forced into beach time and drinking Skol.  The Brazilian beer of choice.  A duty I was happy to accept.

New Years Eve was fantastic.  Parties start late around here.  Again they BBQ’d with dinner being served around 2230.  The main dish was all pork.  A custom here.  Again, I dined happily.  When in Rome…also, the ladies made a fruit plate that would rival any resort buffet line.

 Dinner was finished around 2345.  Following we rushed to the beach for fireworks, champagne, music, and…and…drinking.  Sorry, a little hazy.  My liver is a bit pure after San Marcos.  Doesn’t handle the champagnuh so well.  The entire city seemed to gather on the beach.  It seemed to be a throwback in time to Pacific Beach.  I could imagine similar happenings there in the 50s. As we partied on two acres of grass (someone’s front yard) adjacent to the beach.  Sean, Dan, and I spent most of our time immediately around midnight avoiding champagne corks and champagne.  As most people were spraying it on each other.  Rookies…don’t they know champagne is for drinking.  Its fine to throw the bottle at your buddy when you’re done with it, but, never waste the booze.  Tisk Tisk.

The following day was filled with siesta.  In fact…I think the entire day was dedicated to it.  Followed by another late night dinner, Sushi at midnight.  They love eating late around here.  I think its the siesta.

The following morning we headed back to Florianopolis…where we started.  Little did we know our 100 KM trek was going to take us 8 hours!!  That’s right.  It took us 8 hours to go 62 miles.  Worst traffic in the UNIVERSE!  You know that one bad thing that happens in the Universe everyday…like the formation of a black-hole, or a supernova, or a meteor hitting an inhabited planet.  Well, it just so happened that driving from Garopaba to Florianopolis was the worst thing going on in the Universe on January 2, 2008.  Go figure we happened to witness it.  WOW! Nuff Said!!