Casper fills up with water in Tarrafal
View of Santa Luzia from Tarrafal
Tarrafal is a very sweet village, curled gracefully around a jet beach of volcanic sand. The loud rattle of the surf is never far away as it rakes through the large black stones that edge the shore. A large amount of time and energy is dedicated to the collection of these stones, by men, women and children, carrying them aloft in buckets and grading them into tidy piles further up the beach. Presumably these are used in some form for construction of which there is a lot going on in a low key, bit-at-a-time sort of way. This place is suprisingly busy given its size. A delivery ship arrives daily, offloading building materials and supplies. There is a constant flow of people up and down the seafront. The fish market is bustling. The flavour is decidedly African with a South American twist and a hint of the Canaries. It's obvious that the place has been very poor (and not that long ago) but it's definately rounded the corner on positive development now. The cobbled streets are clean, the cars (mainly pick-ups) in one piece, there are two cash machines, several minimercados and the locals appear to have a goodly amount of leisure time. As I watch the sun dodge the bulbous clouds and come to set picture perfect beside the uninhabited islands of Santa Luzia to the North West I think to myself that the Cape Verdeans have got it perfectly sussed.
The only downside I see to this archipelago is wholly due to my own failure to master Portuguese. I am trying very hard and have learned by heart a number of essential phrases from my English-Portuguese phrasebook. These include the important vai ser operado - you are going to be operated on and better still de-me uma escovadela no casaco - please brush my coat. The problem is that as soon as I start to speak I am met with puzzled and somewhat pitiful looks. My mouth fills with stones. Trying to pronounce the simplest of sentences in Portuguese is true facial gymnastics and good training for anyone planning a future in gurning. But, enough wingeing, I must brush off my coat and get my gurning face into town. Today's missions: dois garraffas de gaz. Let's see what I get...
Two hours later: I was assisted by an unwanted barnacle of a "helper" who has now disappeared with said gas. Now awaiting police to return bottle. Methinks my Portuguesh will be stretched to the max! More anon...
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