Okay, I’m gonna say it: it’s just my opinion, but the houses of worship in Cape Verde score more aesthetic points than those in other places where I have lived. I know that this observation in no way measures a population’s spiritual superiority- I’m just telling you that I’m drawn pretty colors.
I don’t think I need to provide you with any further snapshots of the self-evident Cape Verdean coolness. You’ve seen how nature has carved out the countryside, and I’ve tried to explain how easily this place co-exists with the world surrounding it. No one pays much attention to a tiny country sitting off the coast of a massive pulsating continent- and that’s precisely why you should come and visit.
In keeping my favorite Sunday ritual of going to church doing nothing, here’s a modest posting that provides a few shots of my strenuous day being relatively inactivite. Ahh doing nothing and Sundays… it’s like chocolate and peanut butter. Or grilled cheese and tomato soup. And now I’m getting hungry….but not for bacon….
“Don’t you find that it gets kinda boring?” someone asked me of Cape Verde. Um, no. There is nothing boring about heading into the hills and exploring the scenery. Especially when you ride in a car that has a hard time negotiating inclines even in first gear. You find yourself wondering if maybe you should have gone to church this morning and prayed for your survival. This is not boring at all.
The one thing about a largely mountainous country, its people are forced to grow their villages on the sides of cliffs. I don’t know how they do it- but our drive into the interior of seemingly remote (and fertile) Santiago would suddenly bring us upon full-blown cities. These were impressive networks of nicely-paved roads, banks and stores that take credit cards (after living in Senegal for over a year, this really does impress me). This island has way more going on than just Praia.
What I really wanted to post about was a stop we made on the way back home. My blood pressure and heart rate were largely at peace now that we were barreling down steep declines instead of lurching skyward. My driver of blind faith laughed as I told him that his Nas Mãos de Deus sticker on the back of his car was really the only thing getting us home in one piece.
I’m still laughing a bit nervously when he suddenly switches subjects:
“Hey do you like pork?”
“Um, yes?” I say, not sure where this line of questioning is going. We’re still winding down the mountain road, are are seemingly in the middle of nowhere. My vote in the affirmative causes him to suddenly pull off the road and into a small parking lot. Why do I feel like I have had this kind of experience before?
Follow your nose. We walk a few steps to this alley. It smells good. Like, really good.
You can roll your eyes, but I will tell you that I could probably take or leave meat as a food group. Really. I have been a vegetarian a few times in my life, and unlike my carnivorous male travel companion, I’m not totally won over by the fried pig ears and liver pieces. But I’m in Rome, and you should never let some fool half-hearted principles get in the way of a good experience.
“This place makes the best pork!” announces my proud and hungry friend, “Politicians, celebrities, and people from Praia all come up into the mountains just to get some of this meat.” I feel like I have a wave of fryied pig cologne sinking into my pores as he shows me the selection of fried goods. This is not a place for vegetarians. Or Muslims. But this is Sunday in Cape Verde, and this is also why you must explore a country under a local’s guiding hand. I would never have given a dirt alley like this a second thought.
Behold the “serving station”. Really just a card table upon which the piles of fried up pig parts are dumped. No plates, no To Go bags- just a stack of napkins. You pile a napkin up with the pieces you want, and then show it to the lady as she decides how much you will pay. Meanwhile the napkin is instantly saturated with grease and fat. My hands are greasy just thinking about this.
You can roll your eyes, but I will tell you that I could probably take or leave meat as a food group. Really. I have been a vegetarian a few times in my life, and unlike my carnivorous male travel companion, I’m not totally won over by the fried pig ears and liver pieces. But I’m in Rome, and you should never let some fool half-hearted principles get in the way of a good experience.
We make our way back to Praia just as the sun starts to get slanty. For not really wanting to do anything when I woke up, this has been a pretty terrific Sunday. I’m happy to be on relatively flat land again, but once again the recurring theme of this place is that I am exceedingly grateful to have been shown a bit of a life that tourists don’t get to experience.
The masochist in me would probably even be open to another jaunt back into the mountains before I leave this place for home.