Watercolors Of Brazil IX

The torrential rain that greeted me upon my arrival to Paraty showed no sign of stopping.
Still, I was on holiday, it was carnival (Still! Carnival in Brazil lasts for a week or so.) and I wasn't just going to sit around in my hotel.
I phoned the German girl I met on the coach: "Shall we go to the beach?"
"But it's raining!"
"Yeah, but it's still kinda hot."
"OK then".

We decided to meet by the pharmacy on the main square.
"I have a problem.", the German announced the minute I arrived.
"What kind of problem?
"Erm...diarrhoea. Could you help me buy the tablets? I thought since you speak Portuguese..."
As we entered the pharmacy I tried explaining the problem to the lady behind the counter: "Do you have anything against...erm....erm...going to toilet?"
The pharmacist looked at me blankly.
"You know...problems with toilet."; I said again and motioned in the general direction of my arse.
Another blank stare.
By this time a queue was forming behind us.
"Problems! TOILET!"; I said a bit louder.
"DIARRHEA!!! DIARRHEA!!! I need tablets for diarrhea!!!"; shouted the German losing all the patience.
"Eek...what are you doing? I tried to put it delicately so that not every soul in the pharmacy becomes familiar with your problem."; I looked at the German horrified.
"Well she understood 'diarrhea', didn't she? Besides, I don't even care anymore. I just want it gone."; she said.
And with that we strolled towards the beach.

Since Carnival was still happening, we decided that we should certainly pay a visit to a street party later on. There'll be music, dancing, debauchery, drinking and...rain, by the looks of it.

We dressed up to the nines, bought some cheap raincoats to cover our finery and hopefully keep us dry and headed towards the nearest music source.
There was a girl dressed just in a tiny, teeny bikini dancing barefoot to the deafening rhythms of samba drums. All luscious hair and glistening coffee skin, not caring for the crazy rain nor the crowd that gathered around her.
I looked around me. The Brazilians were doing a brisk business of selling the flimsy, crappy, made in China raincoats to all the foreigners.
"Looks, foreigners are the only ones wearing these raincoats.", I motioned to the German. "Brazilians are just getting soaked and they don't care."
"Hmmm...and these raincoats are shit anyway. It's not like they're really keeping us dry, is it?", said the German.
We took the raincoats off and immediately got drenched. Our clothes were wet, our hair was wet, the make up melted and run down our faces.
And not a single f**k was given.

Later on in the evening, the German nudged me:"Look, how come Brazilian girls still have their make up on? And not just that, but it's flawless."
I looked around, "Ah, but they are Brazilian. Other rules apply."
And with that, I continued dancing.