Saturday 10th July (Lini’s Journal)
Brindabella's Web Diary
Simon Williams
Sun 25 Jul 2010 23:28
sunny and looking up at the town I was desperate to get the camera
out. First though there was work to be done and while Si got the
dinghy off the foredeck and refolded it tightly ready to stow below, I
defrosted the fridge, cleaned and collapsed the table unfortunately
finding a bag of grubbies that should have gone to the laundry
yesterday. It was a couple of hours later that I finally pegged out
the last item and was able to go exploring. Rucksack on back and
camera round neck I clicked my way towards the vegetable market. I am
totally in love with Angra and however many photos I took today there
will still be a favourite tiled road name, an immaculate terrace of
houses or a pretty mosaic path left only for faded memories.
Shopping in Angra is like a time warp and if unafraid of offending
I would have clicked into the doorway of the dark hardware store with
wooden counter wrapped around Ronnie Barker in brown cotton coat ready
and waiting to find just what you needed from walls lined with wooden
compartments of neatly labelled stock. Inside the haberdasheries rolls
of fabric were stacked perfectly behind spotless glass counters with
numerous chests of shiny varnished shallow drawers containing every
piece of sewing equipment, ribbon or lace you would ever need. Tied
cake boxes left carved wood fronted pastelarias housing mouth watering
cakes on pretty plates in glass display cases with coffee filling the
air. Of course there were the inevitable gift shops and boutiques but
it’s the sights that made me smile that I shall treasure.
The vegetable market was about to close by the time I got there so
my large heap of purchases must have been an unexpected bonus at the
end of their day. I staggered back via the beach where the weekend had
brought many a teenager out to socialise. Brindabella stood out on the
end of the pontoon in the marina behind and despite the heavy bags I
took just a few more dozen photos!
Simon was checking the boat batteries when I got back and looked
awful; he hasn’t been feeling great since the ‘dodgy beer’ which I’m
hoping wasn’t the beginnings of a virus misdiagnosed. The lunch table
laid with fresh bread, local cheeses, cured ham and fresh fruit was
sure to cheer him up however and even fat free Philadelphia was
delicious with juicy tomatoes and sweet grapes. After a brief pause
for digestion Si decided to don wet suit and snorkel and check the
rudder which is still making clunky noises. This wasn’t one of his
better ideas I thought being unwell and full of cheese. He went in
anyway and managed to chisel off huge pieces of coral growing round
the rudder base as well as give the hull a quick scrub.
Packing and stowing the vegetables for sea passages is always a
long job, today alternated with frequent leaps up on deck to check the
diver below was still ok. I sorted, wrapped, bagged and sucked out as
much air as possible stacking everything for now in a crate until the
freezer contents is moved to the fridge. Simon emerged from the depths
looking worse than ever (no surprises) and decided on a nap: I decided
to paint another wall “….which is thoroughly encouraged in Angra
marina without the hunt for a space like Horta”! There was no time for
flags or kangaroos today but in a couple of hours acceptable (from a
distance) boat and crew names decorated the wall thanks to a second
use of the crumpled stencils. It was now 6pm, Simon looked human again
and I only had time for the quickest of showers; bulls were running in
the streets at 6.30pm.
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*****EVENING POST*****
CULTURES COLIDE
Australian sailor Simon Williams had a lucky escape this evening
during the São Bento Fiesta in Angra do Heroísmo on the island of
Terceira in the Azores. Williams was busy filming the traditional
chasing of bulls in the narrow streets and without binocular vision
was not aware the bull was approaching so quickly. Ex-marathon runner
Simon legged it up the hill towards the ‘safe zone’ but the beefy bull
was hot on his heels. He grabbed the bull by the horns when they
collided attempting to swing it round and luckily escaped with a few
scratches round his middle and a rather bruised knee when he was
pushed into a wall. “I didn’t realise he was coming so fast and I’m
not as fit as I was”, said Williams recovering afterwards with a
medicinal beer.
..............................................................................................
We plodded up the steep cobbled lane towards São Bento following a
guy who looked like he may be searching for bulls too. Sure enough as
we rounded a corner a few streets later, voices of crowds were heard,
police showed safe places to stand marked by lines in the roads and
then off went a rocket over head. At the bottom of the hill picadors
in their white smock tops and black tasselled hats were pulling madly
on a thick rope. To suddenly be face to face with a bull even though
there was a fare distance between us was a little unnerving and I
spent ages up a side street behind the lines until the locals told me
when it was safe to come into the main street. Simon having seen it
all before was much more confident and nowhere to be seen. I was
amazed at how many people, young and old stood so close to ‘the
action’, not to mention Si of course. The doorways of the terraces
were boarded and from upstairs windows families had front row seats. I
had a quiet chuckle at the two building supports in the doorway of the
bar on the corner, just wide enough for most thirsty spectators to
breath in and squeeze through but not wide enough for horns. From
behind lace covered windows of the house on the other corner came
‘music’. Now when I say music this unseen band were obviously novices
but very enthusiastic. They played the same tune over and over
gradually improving with the base drum almost in time and the brass
section hitting more or less the correct notes. Eventually they got it
about right and emerged from the doorway, all four of them to perform
on the corner even though we’d all heard it all before…. quite a few
times: It was fantastic!
Lini became brave and eventually spent most of the time in the main
street unless the bull was charging her way. Many a young man
tormented the bull and from downstairs windows people literally waved
red flags at bulls that classically hoofed the ground then charged at
it. When one bull became tired it was put back in its cage, off went a
rocket and out came another, each one getting progressively beefier. I
can’t remember if it was bull number two or three with fresh legs and
steam to let off that had just been let out as I joked with friends
that Simon had not been seen for some time and was probably pinned to
a wall by the bull up a side street. It wasn’t until the end of ‘the
round’ that he emerged with his scary story and the wounds to prove
it. I decided it would be far more sensible to watch the proceedings
from the bar and I was able to stand on a chair with a ring side seat
for the remaining time while having a little light refreshment and
taking close up photos. The last bull was MASSIVE and I didn’t need
Simon to remind me that the board I was leaning against was only held
in with four small barrel bolts. This wild creature had already turfed
up an iron bollard in the road and just feet away from us he was a
scary sight. The picadors were certainly having a workout trying to
control it.
The fantastic band were now very confident and at the end they
marched up and down the street playing the theme tune to the Muppets
over and over before disappearing again behind lace windows:
Brilliant! As we walked back to Brindabella (some licking their
wounds) we said how very different things were here from the UK where
weekend sport is a game of footy with the lads and health and safety
would never allow such proceedings: Imagine doing a risk assessment on
that!! Simon wasn’t particularly hungry after all that cheese for
lunch so we had the almost forgotten snack of beans on toast as the
sun went down. I then had to rush quickly round the marina to take
night time pictures of the town before all the daylight disappeared
completely. Angra slowly turned to a mass of glowing lamps and
illuminated architecture. Oh wow!