An evening in São Francisco do Sul

18 04 2008

I’m in São Francisco do Sul. The old town is nice – old buildings, cobelstone streets (hell to cycle on). What’s this? There’s a fiesta! The 20th festival of island traditions, or something. We expected great things, the whole island has been talking to us about this (that is all I could understand – I still think they are speaking Russian in Brazil).
Nothing really happened in the old town until 9. Before then we could buy the usual things from the craft stalls. Should we want to. Then we could grab something to eat and drink, and listen to some light music.
A parade of dancing starfish and 3m tall people with huge heads passed by. I still don’t get that.
A very good looking lass tried to sell us (in English!) a fair/fiesta in Gasper, down the road, next month. We’d cycled through the town a few days ago, and didn’t want to say that we weren’t going back. I couldn’t work our how to say it. Actually, when she first spoke (in Portuguese), we said we don’t understand. So she asked us if we spoke Spanish (in Spanish). We said ‘Si’! But she couldn’t (so why ask?). Then she switched to English. Everyone tells us that Portuguese and Spanish are so similar, so why does no-one understand a word of Spanish here?
The street filled with people (the festivities were confined to one street along the sea shore).
The main stage was occupied (by, it seems, the main act). They played some instantly forgetable 80’s covers and Portuguese songs, that were very well recieved by the kids. The singer appears to be a transvestite, or at least a cross dresser, appearing in leopard skin tights and pink feather boa to sing “Dancing queen” in a feminan voice. After YMCA and Rivers of Babylon (all essentially in English, but missing significant parts of what I remember of the lyrics), the second guitarist took over. I think he must have been chain smoking from birth to get that voice. It was a strange show – the lighting and equipment were pretty good, the music was good, but the singing and act were terrible. And the crowd loved it. I left about 11 – not wanting to suffer any more, and to beat the rain to the hotel.
Maybe there’ll be a fiesta I can dance along at up the road…


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