RIO de JANEIRO - A TEN DAY CELEBRATION
The next day I made sure I was on the first
liberty boat which left at 10:30. This
time it wasn't as crowded as most of the Jolly tars from last night were still
nursing their poorly heads and we made good time to our allocated jetty. John Foster the Salvation Army officer was
there to meet me and we quickly made our way to the Salvation Army’unmarried
mothers home which he ran with the help of another officer from
Sweden. An ironic place to start my
tour of Rio I thought. Just came off a
ship where 200 matelots were ashore trying to have their wicked way with girls
which if they did would end up here. It
was a really fascinating day, meeting some of the girls and through signs gestures
and help from my new found friend hearing their stories. About 6 o-clock he took me back to the
jetty where he had picked me up but not before arranging to meet again the next
day and take me around some of the sites of Rio de Janeiro. At around 7 a boat from the Jaguar arrived and
out poured more of the crew and with them some messmates, all planning to paint
the town red again. Needless to say I didn’t
get the boat which was on it’s way back to the ship for yet more jolly tars. Once again it was 4 in the morning before
we got back to the ship. This continued
for the next 8 days. John Foster meeting me around 12 each day and taking me off to see the sights. Many off the beaten track and to places
where the tourist wouldn’t see let alone my mates onboard as well as the usual
ones like a swim on Copacabana beach.
A climb to the top of Sugar Loaf mountain, well cable car anyway. Another day, off to see the statue
of Christ the Redeemer that towers over the city on the top of Corcovado Mountain. Whilst another day it was a drive out to the
Tijuca rain forest. I didn’t always
get swept back towards the night life by
sailors pouring off the liberty boat as I returned to the jetty. Occasionally when I got back, the jetty was empty and I jumped on-board the half empty liberty boat as it returned for yet more sailors. Getting
back on-board the ship, I’d go down below
to the mess-deck only to find some of my
messmates getting ready to go ashore again.
I protested, I really did but
there were some really big marines next to my hammock and you know what
marines are like. I told them it was 11
o-clock and I needed my bed but they wouldn't listen. Honest they wouldn't. On the Sunday John collected me as usual
and took me to the local Salvation Army hall There a couple of pretty young girls
insisted in translating for me. I mean
what could I do, it would have been rude to turned them down and keep with
John, wouldn't it. This time
they did get me back on-board without mishap. I quickly climbed into my hammock and laid my weary
head down before some big hairy sailor saw me and dragged me ashore again. That’s one good thing about a hammock, once
curled up inside they can’t see you.
It went on like that for ten days but it wasn't all partying
you know. Occasionally we had to get
dressed up in our monkey suits and show the Yanks how to march up and down to impress the local dignitaries. Other times, the mayor would come on-board with
his entourage and we had to salute them or even offer them a cocktail or
two. I ask you with all that we could
have been doing ashore. The things we
do for our Queen and country.
After 10 days and a great sigh of relief the order
came to weigh anchor and head out to sea.
Or at least we thought that was to happen. As soon as we got out of sight of the mainland, we slipped into the bay of a small island and
dropped anchor again. The captain
telling everyone he wasn't putting to sea with a shambles he had the nerve to
call a crew. Not without a whipping or two. Or he would if he hadn't been too tired. All therefore but the most
essential needed to keep watch were told to go below and get their
heads down for
24 hours. 24 hours later normal life on
one of her majesty's grey funnel lines returned to normal and we sailed down
towards the Antarctic and our next port of call.
As for me, if
that is what life is like for a Christian in the Royal Navy is like, it was fantastic. Being a Salvationist I didn't drink, something I was surprised to find my
messmates accepted without the slightest qualm. I couldn't match drink for drink with the
other sailors though as Coke a Cola was very gassy compared with the local
beers and I was therefore always out of pocket when it came to my round
again. I’m sure I had only had a
couple of sips before it was my turn to head to the bar again. As for church there were numerous Catholic churches. Each as warm and friendly as the Salvation
Army was in Rio. Nor was the language a
barrier. I had prior to setting sail
bought myself a Lingaphone course with the intention of teaching myself French
but didn't get very far through the course.
First of all Portuguese is the main language in Brazil whilst Spanish isspoken in the rest of South
America. I did try my French out in Dakar
and a couple of other places in Africa
but to no avail. Every little boy we
met was desperate to practice their English on us and when pretty young girls wanted
to translate it would be terribly bad manners not to let them. It would,
wouldn't it?
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