We're back in São Paulo after a delightful and all-too-brief excursion States-side, culminating in a jolly to Fairhope, Alabama for Michael's wedding. Having settled into our quaint hotel (with pool! And automatic pancake machine! And a Burger King literally next door!) and sampled the local byroads, shopping outlets and country music stations (literally all the songs mentioned trucks, ice cold beer and girls), we drove down to Gulf Shores on Wednesday for a swim in the Gulf of Mexico, narrowly avoiding giant dragonflies and divebombing pelicans, then wandered down to the Fairhope pier to watch the sun set over Mobile, a clique of amiable fishermen and more bloody pelicans.
On Thursday morning we went to Oak Hollow Farm to go clay-pigeon shooting with a truck full of shotguns and ammo - I hit three and Gaby got one, so safe to say we'd be the first to go in the event of a zombie apocalypse (we'd been watching a lot of The Walking Dead, set in nearby Georgia, and most of our road trips were spent sizing up roadside churches and houses as suitable places to hide from the undead...), but fun was had, before we had to drive to Pensacola and back to drop off our rental car. I remember thinking that if my house was as huge and picturesque as some of the ones we drove past, I'd probably be a shotgun-wielding redneck too, in case anyone tried to take over my land (the British, probably).
Following a pre-wedding dinner on Thursday, where we got to know the Island crew and gorge on steak and gumbo, I donned my groomsman's waistcoat and pink socks, and went to the Oak Hollow Farm barn where I was put to work mixing vats of custom cocktails for the guests. The service was lovely - featuring poems, tears, and the Star Wars theme tune played by a brass band under a giant tree - then after a photo-shoot in a field full of hay-bales and an afternoon of giant Jenga, rocking chairs and tequila mojitos, we went into the barn for a buffet dinner, a number of recitals and speeches, and a brilliant wedding band from New Orleans who had us dancing in the aisles until the small hours of 10pm. At this point everyone went to cook marshmallows on the campfire, and we went back to the hotel to pack, setting off at 2:30am and arriving in São Paulo at 8pm on Saturday, many in-flight films later.
Since then we've been collecting cats, doing washing, starting a "Breaking Bad" marathon and a severe fruit & veg diet (almost a relief after the onslaught of burgers, Old Fashioneds and Haagen Dazs milkshakes), and passing the time almost disturbingly unfettered by work. We also watched "Boyhood" at the in-laws', which I would recommend if you have three hours to kill at some point.
I have, however, found time to throw together another superlative compilation (https://play.spotify.com/user/freddypowys/playlist/0QqtoQfTE8T60BIbUhGamV), and have another Brazilian proverb for you. "Casa de ferreiro, espeto de pau" literally means "in the house of the blacksmith, the skewers are made of wood", which I'm told roughly translates to "the shoemaker's son always goes barefoot", and has something to do with not being able to apply your professional know-how to your personal problems.
I have also attached some photos from Fairhope, although Gaby has already posted the best of them on Facebook... Let me know when you're around tomorrow - speak soon!
Frod
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