By Gringo Blogger
By way of introduction Im a foreigner whos lived in São Paulo city for a few years. I came here for romantic reasons with the hopes of finding a job, like many gringos (only to find out that getting work in Brazil is a near impossible task). So Im not your typical wealthy gringo. Thankfully I am now working part time in a great job, but am still on the Holy Grail-like quest of finding full time work. I married my girlfriend early last year, so have some idea of the highs and lows of a multicultural relationship.
In my blog Im just documenting some of the day-to-day events that happen to me, amusing or not, to give an impression of what its like for a gringo living in the bustling metropolis of São Paulo, and Brazil in general. Its at times also meant as a tongue in cheek look at gringo life, so shouldnt be taken too seriously.
To read the previous parts click the relevant links at the bottom of the article.
After an hour or two of river gazing it seemed like Id had a few bites, from the fish this time, but nothing serious enough to take the bait. At least there was never anything on the end of the hook, and the bait was usually nibbled off. It seems Brazilian fish were particularly clever and could nibble around the hook. My wifes father-in-law noticed my growing despondency and asked if Id like to try fishing with worms. Both my father-in-law and his brother had caught a fish or two, and were using worms, so clearly this was the bait of choice. Thankfully I wasnt too squeamish about watching a worm being "stitched" onto the hook, as I still had very clear memories of coarse fishing in the UK and harpooning maggots. In fact my fishing friend at the time would eat the things, although thats another story.
Clearly the worms were the fish food of choice, as I started to get numerous bites and caught my first fish! OK, it wasnt anything to write home about, being about the size of the palm of my hand, but I could always exagerrate later. At this point we broke for lunch, and cold pizza and Fanta was handed round.
My first fish!
The rest of the afternoon went by quite quickly in the lazy afternoon sun. At one point there was a strange cry from the forest, and Mr. Loud told me it was a monkey. I was somewhat sceptical that there were monkeys in the forest, at least this far south. Perhaps someone in the know can tell me if this is the case. A heron also flew down to help us fish, but he surveyed the scene for a few minutes and left, which may have been a sign as to why we werent catching much. My father-in-law had fished the same spot the previous week and caught over 80 fish, but such is fishing. I wished for my old fishing rod and reel, as well as the tackle. I felt sure that a heavier and easier to cast float would have worked better, as a spot several metres ahead of where I was seemed to be the better place to fish. But with a rod and fixed line I was a bit stuck.
The visiting heron
I wasnt quite sure what time we were due to finish, and thought it was rude to ask. I began to wonder whether we were there for the night. But the fish stopped biting for an hour or two, even for the expert fisherman like my father-in-law, and he suggested we give up as the sun was setting. We packed up our gear, and hefted the 30 or so fish into a bag (an onion net had served admirably as a keepnet). I was relatively proud that 5 or so of the tiddlers were mine. We wended our way back to the car, through the undergrowth, and performed more balletic movements to get between the strands of barb wire of the fence. After a bumpy ride back over the field, we started on the hour or so trip home. No doubt each guy was thinking of the best tale they could recount for "the one that got away".
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Previous articles by Gringo Blogger:
Brazil Blog: Fishing Trip Part 2
Brazil Blog: Fishing Trip Part 1
Brazil Blog: Feira Frustration