A slower day. I slept for most of it. Female handler (f.h.) tried desperately to force me to enjoy the porch. She picked me up, and would turn me towards flying pigeons and Quaker parrots. Like what am I supposed to do….leap off the porch in an attempt to catch them. We’re on the 7th floor (yeah, I know she told you 6th earlier, but the fact of the matter is that the folks here count the first floor as 0…ZERO). Any attempt to catch these birds would only create a mess 7 floors below. I’m seriously not into sensational endings like that.
The handlers were gone late this afternoon. Something about looking for a vehicle that cost less than the current rental that they would like to return (only after they clocked 200km in it yesterday checking out the country side that reminded them of scenes from The Man from Snowy River and the plains of Colorado and Nebraska. “No nonsense farming” is what the male handler called it).
They returned to the busy Sunday evening streets of Colonia and to see for the first time Candombe drums being warmed up by a group of drummers (called a cuerda). While we have heard them often and witnessed their progression through town, the early prep is something of a mystery to us. The drummers invited both my handlers to take pictures and welcomed the questions. They demonstrated how they needed to tune their drums by heating the skins by fire, and the warm-up time depended on the temperature and humidity. One of the drummers demonstrated what a drum sounded like when it was ready to use…and what a drum sounded like that still needed some warm tuning. And of course while the bonfire was being stoked, the mate (yerba mate is the beverage of choice) was being passed around.
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