My wife called as I wrote before and, seemingly, the phone knew how much time I had, disconnecting a couple minutes before my ride came to take me to the Hotel Tropical for drinks. It was good to talk to Marcia almost exclusively in Portuguese. It wasn’t good that the phone shut me down before I got to say “I love you,” or “Um beijo, tchau!”
So back to the opera house. After sliding around on the floor, we learned that the Rubber Barons were a lot like those occasional college kids you hear about who can’t do laundry. They didn’t like doing it, especially in or with the acidic water of the Amazon. So some of them would send it back to Europe to get it done – getting it back 6 months later. And their opera seats stunk, too.
The second level box suites at the opera were what I think of for prime seats. I can see opera glasses, bad costumes, and someone sneaking in to stab you in the back. It was beautiful, exotic, elegant, dramatic, and enough beyond the stereotype to take it seriously.
We then were led outside to the deck surrounding the second floor. The view now is of somewhat decrepit towers of offices and apartments. But the Amazon Jungle and Rio Negro are still visible to remind you of the wild that contains the growth of the city.
The city’s growth was much contained in the 20s when rubber tree seeds were stolen and taken to Malaysia. They planted them there as farmers plant seeds for harvest, not the haphazard plan that Mother Nature had for Rubber Barons of Manaus. That, some access issues, and the arrogance of the Barons to think that rubber trees would only grow in Brazil’s climate doomed their business to the invariant pressure of competition.
And, with that came the end of opera for 70 years. After 1925, no opera was performed in Teatro Amazonas until 1996. It was used for occasional shows and for tourism. They even upgraded the facilities in 1974, but there would be no opera until most people didn’t know that rubber came from trees.
Those early Brazilians were smart with their rubber, mixing it with concrete to make a durable road that also limited the noise of horses. I think that principle lives today with mixing of tires in asphalt.
Our day proceeded with a Rotary lunch meeting with another group of friendly people. Though we haven’t mastered Portuguese, we were told twice afterward how happy they were that we made significant effort to use the language. And I will say that all are making good progress.
We finally swapped some dollars for reais, tried to find sunglasses, visited quickly the Olympic Village – where no Olympians train, but many kids get good practice with good facilities – and then rested. Or I wrote the previous entry.
After an hour, we went out again for drinks with many people from today’s meeting and a group of Rotarians on exchange from Belgium. Caiprinhas, Caipiroscas, “rum” (pronounced “hoom” to Steve’s dismay) and cokes, beer, and many less toxic drinks abounded. Bad accents and multiple languages (French, Spanish, German, English, Portuguese) were spoken. Esperanto was spoken about – the first time I’d heard anything of that in a very long time. Many danced to American songs. And even the fear of getting up at 4am on Thursday wasn’t enough to keep us from staying until nearly 10 pm.
It’s now 11:20. Maybe I should sleep.
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