French Lunch

The news is bad as the alternator is broken beyond repair at least in this corner of Brazil. This means we can only charge our house batteries with the solar panels or by plugging in to the electrical grid. Friday we leave with no fridge and altered travel plans, probably a straight shot to Brasilia the capital where we may find repairs or be able to ship a replacement from Missouri. 

Rusty is a good example to follow when I am feeling impatient.

In town we mooch around for a bit, walk a few streets, shop for groceries and wonder if today’s the day.

I got a really silly photo of the food line and didn’t notice till much later. My photography is suffering from this delay! 

I’m not a huge fan of buffets which produce food that I have to guess if I’ll like it and is produced without the care of a dish prepared to order.

The card is your tab, you weigh your plate, the waitress will add any drinks you order through her and the bar code stores your tab. The menu such as it is, is bi-lingual for the many French visitors. 

Brazil loves its buffets even for pet food, sort of. 

Brazil is a country  of two electrical systems. I have a list of states that shows which are 240 and which are 110 and roughly speaking it’s the northern half that is on the US system albeit with different plugs. We of course carry lots of adapters. 

If you look in the bottom right corner of the box below you’ll see the voltage. The weird thing is the whole country has to adapt to each others voltage. Often I’m told campgrounds have both voltages and sometimes hotels do too. We always ask to make sure before we plug in. I guess you get used to it but I find this twin system chaotic. 

The sole overlanders in Oiapoque. That would be us! 

And here we have a jar of farofa, which is the yellow roasted manioc flour that Brazilians love to sprinkle on their food for extra calories. 

Why they do it I don’t know. The stuff is flavorless and gritty and adds nothing. I’ve tried it repeatedly and it never gets better. 

And on the subject of weird travel things here’s an open drain in a parking lot. So far we’ve avoided it but why they won’t cover it or put a fence in front I don’t know. A sawhorse would do. 

If you don’t speak Portuguese French works in this town but Layne has no interest in visiting the museum. So far at least she’s held off. 

Mural alert:

It’s dinner time at the hotel and he’s ready to go in:

That sign promising the open road is still there at the southern edge of Oiapoque. 

Fingers Crossed

There comes a point when pictures have to be enough on this page, nothing to say as we wait for a fix for the alternator.  

The streets of Oiapoque. 

In Florida a group of turkey vultures circling overhead is called a “kettle,” but in Brazil I don’t know. 

I was mooching around outside the hotel with Rusty being patient and they were something to look at. 

Short back and sides as I struggle with the selfie thing. 

I was the morning’s last customer before the barber, seated on the couch, had his lunch break with his buddy and their phones. 

More Oiapoque as that’s all there is.  Luckily GANNET2 runs fine without the accessory alternator.  

Christmas is coming. 

Steep streets. 

Rainy Day In Oiapoque

 Of course we made a mess of it but we went into town to get our hair cut. Good plan but we left it a bit late so Rosie could clean our room while we kept an eye on Rusty and by the time he could stay in the room and we could leave it was lunchtime.

Lorenzo the hotel owner recommended the place and we ordered fish. Layne had hers fried in what was a light batter,

…with a side of beans and manioc flour, that yellow powder which tastes of nothing but grit, which Brazilians love on their food. 

We got a menu in French which is easier for me to read than Dutch or even Portuguese as I learned French in school starting when I was seven and I have kept it up. And we got a cooler for our bottle of beer  which I thought was cool the first time I saw it in Manaus and I still do:

By the time we finished our $22 lunch and collected our to-go box with our leftovers for dinner it was …raining. 

Actually it belted down and we sat and looked at the market across the street, our goal. 

Layne said let’s go but I said let’s not. I figured the rain would ease up. 

So near yet so far under the downpour:

Finally it let up enough so we got across the street from our lunch stop without getting soaked. Below our new favorite diner:

Inside Layne went looking for milk and papaya and also found broccoli I stood outside and watched the town. 

Then I went to the edge of the Oiapoque River and enjoyed my camera on the northern edge of Brazil. 

They call this the top end of Brazil even though there is more Brazil north of Guyana toward Venezuela.

It’s just another version of the not really Southernmost Point in Key West so who cares if it really is the northernmost point of Brazil? That is France across the water, a fact that still blows my minds: 

Even though we have come from there I find it an odd feature of life in this town. It puts me in mind of the US Mexico border, a similar convergence of cultures. 

The bridge opened in early 2017 but only after Brazil paid France their half of the costs according to locals here. From 2011 to 2017  the French kept it closed and vehicles had to cross the river by car ferry. It seems like around here it’s always something. 

Oh and Brazil shuts down for afternoon lunch breaks so we couldn’t find an open barbershop after our own extended lunch. Oh well, mañana as they might say in Portuguese…

Main Street: 

With a Promaster:

The road south, one day, soon…