The Globetrotters eNewsletter
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What is it: decompression sickness, also called the
bends, is related to great changes in environmental
pressure. It is caused by nitrogen bubbles forming
in the bloodstream and tissues of the body. The bubbles
occur if you move from deep water towards the surface
(where the surrounding pressure is lower) too quickly
. It is most usually associated with divers, but can
also occur in fliers in a non pressurised cabin when
there is a major change in altitude. In the most serious
cases decompression sickness can lead to unconsciousness
or death.

What are the symptoms: the symptoms generally
appear in a relatively short period after completing the
dive. Almost 50 per cent of divers develop symptoms
within the first hour after the dive, 90 per cent within
six hours and 98 per cent within the first 24 hours.
In practice this means symptoms that appear more than 24
hours after the dive are probably not decompression
sickness. An exception is if the diver has travelled
in an aircraft or has been travelling in the mountains.
Under these circumstances, low pressure can still trigger
decompression sickness more than 24 hours after the last
dive. As a result, it is wise not to fly within 24 hours
of a deep dive. Mild forms of decompression sickness
can resolve themselves without treatment or by breathing
100 per cent oxygen at the site of the accident. The
symptoms of decompression sickness vary because the
nitrogen bubbles can form in different parts of the
body. These can include pain in the joints
“bends”. a headache or vertigo, unusual
tiredness or fatigue, confusion, a rash, shortness of
breath, tingling in the arms or legs, muscular weakness or
paralysis, a burning chest pain with a deep breath, a
cough or ear or sinus pain.

What happens if I get it: if you suspect
decompression sickness, stop the dive, initiate first aid,
and summon assistance from a specialist in divers'
medicine. Treatment is oxygen on site and during
transportation, followed by treatment in a decompression
chamber.

How can I avoid decompression sickness?

· Dive within the limits set out in the diving
tables.

· Keep your rate of ascent to a maximum 10m/min.

· Don't plan any dives that need a
decompression stop in the water.

· Make a three-minute safety stop at a depth of 5m.

· Don't dive more than three times in one day.

· If you plan more than one dive in one day, start
by making the deepest dive first.

· If you are diving for several days in a row, have
a dive-free day after two to three days.

· Don't do any hard work before or after
diving.

· Drink lots of liquid before diving. Lack of fluid
due to heat or excess alcohol is dangerous.

· Make sure you are in good physical condition and
well rested. Have regular medical checkups.

· Make sure there is an interval of at least 24
hours between diving and travel by air or climbing up
mountains. If you have had decompression treatment, the
recommended interval before the next dive is at least 48
hours.

Sally left the UK around two years ago to start a new life
in Portugal. She lives in a suburb of Lisbon, close
to the sea and is now a TEFL teacher, teaching English to
Portuguese children and adults. This is an account
of Sintra.

Sintra was poetically described by Lord Byron as
“this glorious Eden”. It was declared by
UNESCO as a World Heritage Site. It is easy to get
to Sintra by train from the Estação do
Rossio station, opening onto Praça de Dom Pedro IV,
or the Rossio, where frequent connections can be made. The
one-way fare from Lisbon to Cascais, Estoril, or Sintra is
1.25€ to 2.50€ ($1.45-$2.90) per person.
There is also a bus from Lisbon. You can drive, as
Sally did, but it’s a difficult and tortuous road,
as she found out!

The original Sintra is not large to visit but it now
includes two outlying areas named Estefânia and
São Pedro. As the older part sits on granite slope
it is best seen on foot or by a horse-drawn
carriage. The town is dominated by the two conical
chimneys of the Palácio Nacional da Vila that was
the summer home of the royal family since the 15th
Century. Scattered on the hillside are several
historical buildings, including the Palácio da
Pena, a 19th Century recreation of different styles
admired by Dom Fernando II, the German husband of the
young Portuguese Queen Maria II, and this example often
regarded as a failed attempt to create his own romantic
revival.

The castle stands high on the southeast side of the
mountain range whilst overlooking the village are the
ruined ramparts of the Castelo dos Mouros, a fort dating
from the 8th Century. Within it is an ancient
Moorish cistern and the panoramic view from its walls is
impressive. There are several churches in the town and the
most interesting is the 12th Century Igreja de Santa Maria
rebuilt in 1755 after the earthquake. Several
private palaces are open to the public amongst which are
the Palácio de Seteais, a magnificent 18th Century
home built for the fifth Marquês de Marialva, and
later converted into a five star Hotel; Casa dos
Ribafrias, a 16th Century building once belonging to the
Marquês de Pombal; Quinta de Pena Verde, another
16th Century palace; and the Palácio de Monserrate
built in the 19th Century by Francis Cook and influenced
by the architectural work of Nash. Another
interesting place is the Convento dos Capuchos, an unusual
hermitage founded in 1560 with tiny dwarf cells cut from
the rock. Within the old town there are several
museums, Museu de Brinquedo showing only toys from the
past and present, the Museu Regional retelling the history
of the area with items and artefacts and sometimes also
holding art exhibitions, Casa Museu Leal de Câmara
devoted the works of the artist, Casa Museu Dorita Castel
Branco also devoted to works of the sculptress, Museu de
Arte Moderna, Galeria de Arte Municipal de Sintra, Centro
International de Escultura, Museu de Arqueologia
São Miguel de Odrinhas, Museu Renato L. Garcia,
Atelier Museu de Anjos Teixeira and Museu Ferreira de
Castro.

Here is Sally’s account of her recent trip to
Sintra.

Went up to the Pena Palace in Sintra – this is the
one that you often see on the rare bit of publicity for
Portugal. It looks that something that the mad King
of Bavaria might have built. All different shapes
and designs in yellow and various other colours. I
drove up the Sintra mountains – not a very nice
drive as the road is a cobbled three quarter width one
with drops at one side, pot holes and because the weather
was atrocious, and the road is heavily wooded, it was a
bit like something out of Lord of the Rings in
atmosphere. There is now a very unusual bus that
takes you up to the palace (thank goodness). It is
obviously a vintage one as it has lovely wall lights and
wooden seats and makes slightly heavy weather of climbing
up the incline.

The palace is pretty much the same – quite a
fascinating place as it is exactly like it was when the
Royal Family used to stay there in the summers before they
left for exile. There is only about four staff
looking after all the rooms – very different to
visiting a National Trust property in the UK.
Unfortunately because the weather was so dire, the views
were not visible – when I went last time the views
were incredible – but it’s still worth
going. In fact when I drive to work in Cacem on
Tuesdays and Thursdays I can just see the Palace in
certain places on the drive. The whole of the Sintra
area is very magical anyway.

Another great place to visit is Cabo da Roca – the
furthest western point of Europe. Always guaranteed
to be a tad breezy and again great views out to sea.
Gives you an idea of how brave those explorers were in the
olden days and why they thought they would fall off the
edge of the world.

Just nearby is a lovely restaurant/bar in a converted
Windmill. It is quite unusual as there are so many
different places and corners to sit when the weather is
fine. It has the odd waterfall here and there and
some ponds with frogs and goldfish. Inside it has a
conservatory type front and then two rooms. All
beautifully decorated in wood with lots of lamps.
Equally nice on a wet and cold day as on a hot and sunny
one. It’s one of those places you have to be
taken to by a local to know about it. A
friend’s mother and father took me years ago and I
always wondered where it was and then found it by accident
a few months ago and really enjoy taking people to it.

If you would like to contact sally, her e-mail address is:
"mailto:pethybs@hotmail.com">pethybs@hotmail.com

Which countries are represented by these flags? For the
answers, see at the end of the eNews.

My name is Stanley Mataichi Sagara. My Christian
name was given to me by my first grade teacher who was
probably from the Midwest and had never had an experience
with Orientals. Apparently my Japanese name was too
hard to remember for roll call so all the Japanese
children in my class were given Christian names which we
carried through out our lives.

Having been born in August I have just turned 81. I
have visited 66 countries, however some of these countries
are no longer separate, such as Macau or Hong Kong.
Likewise Taiwan may revert back to China in the near
future.

Some of my foreign travels were while I was on military
duty and some were when I was on eye care missions with
Volunteer Optometric Services to Humanity (VOSH), and the
balance were when I took tours to these countries.
Several trips have been repeats. I still consider
Japan as my favourite country, the birthplace of my father
and mother. I still have a number of third cousins
in Japan as I have second cousins in Brazil. My
second choice would be Austria, where I was when WWII
ended.

I was in D Company, 506th Pcht Rgt, 10lst Airborne
Division. When the war ended eight Japanese-American
paratroopers were transferred to the 82nd AB Division
because the l0lst was scheduled to go to the Pacific
Theater to help defeat Japan. Due to our race we
were assigned to Europe, hover about 6000 Japanese
American GIs were assigned to various units in the Pacific
War as Interpreters-Translators. Each was assigned two big
Caucasian GIs as body guards who accompanied them
everywhere (even to the latrine) so they would not be
mistaken for an infiltrated Japanese soldier.

I would very much like to visit Scandinavia, I have only
been to Denmark so far. I have been to Copenhagen and
Helsinki on several occasions but only in transit.

My special travel equipment is a nylon bath cloth made in
Japan. It is helpful to remove dead skin and helpful
to scrub my back. ($6.00). In my travels I try to keep my
carry on suitcase under 28 pounds which I send as checked
baggage. In addition I carry a shoulder bag which
can be converted to a small back pack where I carry my
shaving kit and other items that I need at my first hotel,
in case my checked bag goes astray. In this way I do not
need to access my checked bag for three days if
necessary. I actually weigh my packed bag and may
remove some items if the bag is too heavy. I try not to
take any item again if I did not use it on my trip, except
clothing to suit the difference in expected weather
conditions. I also live out of my packed suitcase for a
week prior to leaving for the trip so that I do not forget
some important item or if I think I can do without an
item, it is left at home. If you cant carry your own bag,
its too heavy, Better repack! I do not take whole
tour books, only those pages that are pertinent. I like
maps and take good ones which are helpful to help write my
travel journals. A small compass is very helpful,
especially at night or in such places as subways.

The longest travel trip I have taken was for 38 days,
which is about the most I want to take. They say
“When you start to look like your picture in your
passport, its time to go home! Australia had many
surprises for me. I knew it was a big country and that we
would only see a portions of it but a lot of country is a
desert. I did get cleaned out of my essential
possessions while in Oaxaca, Mexico. As it usually is, I
have to blame myself. I kept everything in my shoulder bag
which I set down on the floor while I paid for my parking
fee at a public garage. Less than a minute was all it
took. No one saw anything, so they told me.

I have trapped pickpocket’s hands in my pockets,
once in Sao Paulo, Brazil and again in San Miguel de
Allende, GTO, Mexico. I learned that its better to chalk
it up to experience rather than involve the police. They
can tie you up for hours taking statements, by someone who
is not fluent in English and they may want the money or
article involved as evidence, which you will probably
never see again since you will be moving on in a day or
so.

While visiting in Korea I purchased several bargain priced
sneakers which were irregulars or factory over runs. They
were about two or three dollars a pair. I gave the
salesman a US ten dollar bill and waited for my change. He
asked me how I was fixed for sport socks and placed a
bundle (probably 10 pairs) on the counter. I said
I’m OK and still waited for my change. He puts
another bundle of sport socks on the counter, still no
change. I hesitate, he places a third bundle on the
counter. I think he is not going to let that US ten get
away from him. It became amusing to me the way it was
turning our, when I should have been angry at the
salesman. I finally took the several bundle of sports
socks, the salesman kept my US ten and I have still a good
supply of Korean sport socks (one size fits all).

As an American of Japanese decent we were not permitted to
enter the US military service. In fact the ones who were
in the service were given early discharges, except the few
that fell through the cracks.

Later when the all Japanese-American Regimental Combat
Team was formed we were permitted to volunteer to join. I
was attending college at the time and was later drafted at
Ft Leavenworth, KS. I was given the Japanese language test
(we all took the test) but I did not pass so I went to
Infantry basic training in CampShelby, Hattiesburg,
Mississippi. On my first pass to Hattiesburg I got off the
bus and had to use the restroom. I only saw signs for
BLACKS ONLY and WHITES ONLY but nothing in between. My
first experience in the segregated south. I used the
toilet in the local USO which had no colour bar.

Upon finishing basic training I volunteered for the
Paratroopers, mainly because I could double my pay (Jump
Pay was $50.00) My parents and younger siblings were in a
government operated concentration camp near Cody, Wyoming
with any income so I was sending them part of my pay check
each month. They could purchase some items in the camp
canteen or order from the catalogue sales or ask their
friends to do the shopping for them outside the camp.

After the war I transferred over to the newly formed US
Air force and completed my 20 years of military service. I
joined the Lions Club soon after I retired and one of the
projects we had was collecting donated eye glasses. No one
could tell me what happened to the eye glasses after we
collected them.

I later discovered that the Volunteer Optometric Services
to Humanity (VOSH) a group of eye doctors and lay
personnel actually go on eye care missions to third world
countries to examine patients and give out recycled eye
glasses, at no cost. I have been on some 16 eye care
missions to some very interesting places, such as India,
Thailand, Ecuador, Peru, Paraguay, Bulgaria, Ukraine,
Russia, Guatemala, Honduras, Mexico and many other
countries.

I must point out that we do pay our own way but sometimes
we get reduced air fare or our sponsoring organization may
take care of food and lodging. On each trip we have the
option of taking a side trip to visit some interesting
places.

I also joined Friendship Force International, an
organization started by Pres Jimmy Carter. There are clubs
all over the world. We visit other club members as a group
and they in turn visit other clubs around the world by
mutual agreement. Usually a week of hosted family visits.
I went with the club to Russia for three weeks and on
another trip I went to Freiberg, Germany in the Black
Forest and to Oltzysn, Poland where we met some very nice
people who really like Americans.

Apparently I do not have a face that people think of as
typical American. Although I tell them I’m from
America they still question my origin so to make it
uncomplicated I just tell them “Mongolia”
which satisfies their curiosity. There is more to this
story, but this will have to do for now. Maybe later
I’ll think up some more things about my travels.
Stanley Mataichi Sagara (the Mongolian).

Footnote by Mac: The ‘Arab’ in the picture is
Stanley Sagara. He brought the Arab outfit in Tangiers and
it is genuine although I think it is Palestine rather than
Moroccan garb Another friend William “Mike”
Westfall took the picture and put in the caption. It was
taken at our small AFRH-W Halloween Party. We do not dress
like that every day (I do but not the others!)

If you would like to contact Stanley, he is happy to
answer e-mails on: "mailto:smsagara2@aol.com">smsagara2@aol.com

In a forest. In a bee suit. In the middle of
Tanzania. 100 miles away from Mikindani. With Tony
Herbert’s reputation. Most contrapuntal by
anyone’s standards but after spending five days with
our beekeeping mentor we knew better than to be surprised
by such a situation. Our quest to obtain two stocks of
bees had started on Tony’s arrival on the Saturday
but this particular episode had begun at 5am that very
morning.

The objective of our trip to Masasi, a settlement known
for its history of beekeeping, was to purchase two hives
and colonies of bees to get the apiary up and flying. With
six of us packed tightly into the Land Rover we set off
West with the sun on our backs basking in the ever more
magnificent African sunrise. After breakfast at Mnazi
Mmoja (literally translates as “coconut one”
but why, no one seems to know) we reached the Regional
Resources Office in Masasi at about half past ten
following another particularly bruising journey on the
roads of Tanzania. After being promised a meeting with the
regional beekeeping liaison you can imagine our surprise
to find out he had left the office not more than half an
hour prior to our arrival. Needless to say, his phone was
either turned off or more likely, out of signal. Had our
quest for the holy pair of hives been scuppered by the
absence of one man?!

Despite this set back, we were offered a glimmer of light
at the end of the tunnel by a man named Rodney, the
temporary liaison for Natural Sciences in the Masasi
district. He knew of a small village called Lipupu, around
50 miles beyond Masasi that was notorious for its
beekeeping activities. It was a long shot but with Tony on
board we knew that anything was possible and so the
decision was made to press on.

Sure enough, faith has its rewards. We found it without
any problems and were pointed straight towards the village
beekeeper’s house, signified by the array of unused
bee hives and interesting looking logs suspended outside
his house. One problem… occupant was nowhere to be
seen. We were ushered in to the woods by a group of locals
keen to show us the hives kept by the owner of the
intriguing house and were promised that he was not too far
away and that he only left about half an hour ago. Despite
being sure that we had heard those words before that day
we set off in to the middle of nowhere to investigate the
bees that we had been promised. We could not believe our
luck when the owner of the hives appeared from within the
bush and after many furrowed brows, tense looks and
careful negotiation we purchased our two colonies of Apis
Mellifera Scutellata, the African honey bee, to be
complemented by a further two log hives worth of sting
less bees. After all the setbacks of the day we felt we
has earned our luck in finding this beecon (sic.) of
beekeeping in an otherwise uninhabited part of Tanzania.
So, as we set of widdershins, driving in to the rain,
spirits were through the roof. The smile on
Tony’s face produced by this accomplishment never
disappeared for the rest his stay and it really was the
culmination of a tiring but wonderfully productive and
enjoyable week. For this we will be eternally grateful for
the hard work and never ending enthusiasm of one man.
Thank you Tony.

Back in January 2004 Martin Wright, one the club’s
most sociable regulars at the London Meetings, royally
entertained a packed Crown Court with tales of his
marathon cycle ride to Australia! Many in that audience
will remember his great photos, distinctive narrative
style and his thirst for adventure. Well Martin is at it
again – this time he’s go back to the land
down under to ‘pick up his bike and have a look
round’. I think too many cold winter nights provided
the motivation to get back on the road! This is the third
in an occasional series, based on Martin’s emails,
and charts his offbeat approach to the road ahead.

14 September: “Hello everybody…
far as I remember the last time I wrote was way back in
Exmouth some weeks ago. Quite a lot has happened in
that time and I will try to recount some of the moments.

On leaving Exmouth I had a shocking headwind for two days
which made me wonder why I left and why I do this sort of
thing. Somebody suggested I must be a 'bloody
stupid pommie masochist'. No prizes for guessing
it was an Australian ! The distances between towns
were now as much as 600 kms with a couple of roadhouses in
between, which were very convenient in that I could buy
supplies and have a shower but the prices were pretty
bloody steep and things like bread and milk were usually
out of date ! Even Mrs Mac's famous beef pies
had usually been warmed through for the 10th time and as a
result were almost inedible… One of the
roadhouses wanted to charge me $19 for a camping spot on
solid ground with no shade - I asked for a discount and
was told 'if you don't like it you can xxxx
off.' I did xxxx off and about 10kms along I
found a very nice spot in the bush for free at which I was
later joined by a French family who served me tea made
with tea leaves from a teapot. Fantastic !!

Bumped into a few interesting people on the way and was
almost bumped into by road-train drivers and some of the
less capable caravaners. Throughout the state of
Western Australia the government set up many rest areas
some of which are for overnight stays - they vary in
standard and size. Some you can camp a long way from
the road so the noise from the passing road trains is
minimal. Some are situated next to rivers which can
be good for fishing or swimming but some have crocodiles
in so it is advisable not to swim in these unless you are
a tour bus driver and trying to impress the females on
your tour… Many times I was fed and watered by the
caravaners who are obviously very good drivers - sometimes
the meals produced were quite amazing. At one stop I
was given a starter, main course and a sweet. Beer
and wine was also consumed, after I had arrived thinking I
would be eating three day old sandwiches and
noodles. In Broome I stayed at the Roebuck caravan
park and met an English couple who fed me. I was on
a mission here to fatten myself up and ate almost non stop
for two days - it was a mistake as it made me feel very
sick. Further on I met an English hippie called
Jupiter who really was from another planet.

I was a little behind time so I had a few big cycling days
ahead of me in order to get to Darwin and renew my
visa. The ride from Broome to Derby was very hot but
allowed me my first sighting of the Baobob tree in various
shapes and sizes. The older ones having a huge girth
were used by the early settlers or police to imprison the
Aboriginals in the hollowed out tree trunks. Also
hundreds of thousands of termite mounds abounded, some of
which are thought to be over two hundred years old.
Quite a few termites in each mound I reckon… The
ride from Derby to Fitzroy Crossing, Halls Creek and on to
Kununurra was very spectacular. As I was in a hurry
I had no time to go visiting some of the famous sites of
the Kimberleys - Gibb river road, horizontal
waterfall, Geikie gorge, Bungle Bungles, Wolf creek
crater. Maybe I will come back some day and purchase
a four wheel drive vehicle…

The ride across to Katherine was also very good…
was lucky now as I had a tailwind which made cycling very
easy. I met six cyclists in two days: a German named
Pierre?, an Australian named Ricky and an American named
Rob who also camped overnight at the 62 mile camp rest
area. I was quite jealous of him as he is riding a
bike which I have dreamed of having for sometime - my next
bike will be the same. Next day I met three more
cyclists. A man & a woman on a tandem and soon after I
met Gary who was riding his recumbent cycle. Rode on
to Katherine where I had time for a rest day and again fed
myself very well and drank a lot of beer. A hot
spring ran alongside the Victoria river behind the caravan
park… very nice place to relax for a while.

The ride from Katherine to Darwin was with a tail wind so
I cruised along quite nicely to within 8 kms of the city
centre where I found a caravan park in which to pitch my
tent for a few days. I have since renewed my
visa so I can stay for another six months which is plenty
of time for me to cycle down to Sydney. A little
fattening up here then I will be on my way…

15 October: “Hi all ! Have made
it as far as Mount Isa in the police state of
Queensland. Intended to stay just a couple of days
although have now been here for four nights and still not
ready to leave. I am staying at a place called,
'tourist haven', which is a backpacker’s
hostel and sleeping in a bed for the first time since
Perth, about three months ago, was an absolute
delight. I had forgotten just how soft and
comfortable a mattress can be ! No hard ground, no
stones piercing through my sleeping mat, no ants finding
their way into my food bag & sleeping bag ! No
bugs flying into my tent due to the fact that it can no
longer be zipped closed due to a buggered zipper !
Actually the tent is in need of replacing more due to the
struggle to get out when I wake up for a pee in the middle
of the night. This has resulted in my falling onto
the poles and snapping three of them… also fallen
onto the tent when returning to the tent after being
forced to drink too much beer!

The road from Darwin to Tennant Creek I had travelled two
years previously. From Tennant, I road
back to a roadhouse called Threeways, across the Berkley
highway to Camooweal and on to Mount Isa. Only one
roadhouse before Camooweal and a few rest areas with water
tanks so I had to carry a lot of food. I met Shirley
once again - she is the 72 year old woman who makes me tea
all the time and talks at you constantly, often repeating
herself! I feel like a verbal punch bag. She
often drove behind me on the road for a few kilometres,
protecting me she said from the vehicles driving at a high
speed. I had to pull over and make her drive on and
I was glad to reach Camooweal where I was able to escape
her by staying in a caravan park, while she camped down by
a river. In Mount Isa I was in the presence of true
greatness - his name, Heinz Stuck, who had been cycling
since 1963 and visited every country in the world.
Overall he’s cycled 500,000 kms and is now age 64
and still going strong ! We drank a lot of beer
together and got very, very drunk…

22 October: “Hi all. Since
writing from MountIsa I have had a torrid time. It
was hard to leave, not because it was a town of beauty or
interest - it is a mining town with very little to offer
apart from a good salary if you work at the mine. It
was hard to leave because I would be leaving my very
comfortable bed with the thick, soft mattress. Now
it was back to my tent with the broken zips, holes in the
fly sheet & inner and holes in the ground sheet.
The ride from MountIsa to Cloncurry was a mere 120kms but
it was the hardest days riding I have had to date…
It was bloody hot; 42c ! I had a headwind which kept
my average speed at around 16kph, so it was a long day in
the saddle. My water tasted terrible when cold and
even worse when warmed by the sun. On arrival in
Cloncurry I bought 2 litres of full fat milk which was
drunk in very quick time… of course made me feel
very sick. At the caravan park, after putting up the
tent, it was straight into my sleeping bag and I slept for
twelve hours.

Had a rest day before cycling onto Mckinlay, site of the
Walkabout Creek Hotel, made famous in the Crocodile Dundee
movies. This is a town of about 12 people and one
bloody great big Goanna which seems to have the freedom to
walk up & down the main street as it takes care of the
snakes in the area. It frightened the living
daylights out of me ! Next day was a short
ride to Kynuna… to here is the site of the
Billabong made famous in the Waltzing Matilda yarn by A.B.
Paterson. There’s also a famous pub in town
called, the Blue Heeler Hotel. A bloody good pub,
with many items of clothing hanging from the ceiling and
walls left by people travelling through town. Next
up a very big ride followed all the way to Winton…167
kms of the most tedious landscape in Australia. The
road from one horizon to another seemed exactly the same
and as the morning ride was into a headwind, I thought I
would be riding well into the evening.

Luckily the wind changed after a short lunch break and the
afternoon ride was almost effortless. Winton is an
interesting little town and the population has been
increased due to a film crew in the area about to make a
film. I found good food here and a pub which sells
Guinness so I will partake of a few pints this very
evening…

Our friend Antonio Macedo phoned and invited us to a
special night out in Cruzeiro do Sul in The State of Acre
(the back of beyond in Brazil). He wanted to
introduce us to 'Daime', a very Amazonian drink
that would awaken our minds, or did he mean blow our
minds?

We were taken to a small clearing at the edge of Cruzeiro
to a big wooden building. Inside was a large wooden
table with benches either side on which twenty or so
people could sit round. The decorations reminded me
of a small Catholic Church, with its figurines of saints
and lit candles. The congregation consisted of a few
rubber tappers and a complete cross section of the people
of the town, in both position and money. The town
people and Brazilians generally call this drug
“Santo Daime” and mix it into a sort of
semi-religious, Catholic ceremony.

The Yawanawa tribe, on the other hand, think religion is
nothing to do with Daime, but that it a necessity for the
tribe to take it once a month too clarify the mind and get
their heads together for the coming weeks. Daime is
not banned in Brazil for it is a drug of a very different
nature with a very special effect.

A plant that grows in the ground is mixed with a creeper
that falls from a tree, thus the symbolism of the drug is
that it is the sky mixed with the earth. We filed
into this large hut and sat around the central
table. The candles were lit around us and we were
introduced as visitors who were about to go into the
forest to visit the Yawanawa tribe. First Antonio
spoke to the people about having great care in
demonstrating against the Governor, as there was no point
in upsetting him too much or many more would end up in
prison, or worse, rather than solve any problems it would
just add to them (another story for another time).

The ceremony proper then commenced with a general prayer
for God to help them in these perilous times and then we
rose and formed a queue as if going to communion.
The Daime was poured out of bottles and each of us had a
glass given to us and then made our way back to our
seats. The drug started to take effect. We had
been warned what to expect but we thought it all slightly
ridiculous..

There was silence after we sat down and started to wait
for Daime to take effect, the sight and smell of the
flickering candles, the only light there was to see around
this strange church like place. A few people were
sick. This seemed an unusual start to what I had
been assured was a great experience! I had been
slightly unwell during the day and thought I was going to
have bad case of the trots and this seemed to be the last
thing I needed!

Daime has two effects and one reason it is not on the
banned list is that it is remarkably good for any sort of
stomach disorder. That was the good news, but the
bad news was that while it cured my problem quickly, it
also at the same time stopped me from enjoying the Daime
in the way that I was expecting; and the real reason that
Adam Baines and I were taking Daime this night.

Still, I had more opportunity to observe the others and
see their reactions to the drug. Amazingly, it
seemed that after being sick outside on the grass, people
tended to have another dose of Daime and on being sat down
again, this time it took hold. Thoughts seem to
whirl around in time and space with all your life with
its, good, bad, family, friends, work and pleasures in a
maelstrom in which confusion you seem to be about to be
engulfed. Over the next hour the confusion lessens
and gradually you start to find that everything is falling
into place and you become aware of what exactly you should
do, to get your life in order.

At any moment during this time, you can open your eyes and
feel completely free of the Daime but as soon as you close
them you’re back sorting out the files in your
head. Finally the drug clears the system after a
total of about an hour and a half. The so called
congregation sitting quietly outside, enjoying complete
clarity of mind and thought, contemplating under a
magnificent starry sky, in the tropical warmth, with the
singing of the ‘cigarras’ intermingling with
the croaking of the frogs. Everyone, whether Indians
or locals, thought it extremely important to take Daime so
as to get one’s life in order at least once every
six weeks. All believed that it made men and women
take control of their lives and less likely to have
breakdowns or behave in an anti social manner. The
next day I was able, with my stomach now fully recovered,
to observe without too much of a sickening feeling, the
roaches crawling on the ceiling above the frying pan that
was cooking my breakfast!

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Globetrotter meetings have temporarily ceased until further notice due to a bereavement in Christina’s family. If you can help Christina resurrect the Texas meetings, as she would really appreciate some help, please contact Christina on texas@globetrotters.co.uk

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