My First Caipirinha

I remember my first caipirinha. Well maybe not my first, but the first time I realized the potential of the drink. I remember that one and one or two after, but not the rest...

I was 18 years old and doing a month long solo backpacking trip through Brazil. My mission was to find secret beaches...and that I did, along with another diamond in the rough, a rustic cocktail called a Caipirinha.

I was just off an 8 hour bus ride to Natal after spending a lonely week in Fortaleza. I moved south along the coast hoping that my luck would change. I sought out a popular youth hostel and made that my destination directly off the bus. I could not pronounce the word "albergue" (hostel) nor had no idea where it was or how to get there. It was actually in Ponta Negra, and the name of the hostel, Lua Cheia (Full Moon).

Upon arrival I could already tell things may be looking up. It was a Brazilian holiday weekend and there was a lot of action in the lobby. I was shown my room and realized I was in for my first true hosteling experience--I was assigned the top bunk in the far corner of an 8 bed room and a string of speedos were guarding the entrance of my bed. I ditched my pack and immediately searched for the nearest bar. Apparently, that is what one is supposed to do while traveling alone and hosteling. I was wandering up the cobblestone streets and head a group of 5 or 6 guys start to yell. I did the whole glance and try to ignore, but they remained persistent. I then proceeded to the, "who me?" and vicariously point at myself as if they werent actually calling for me. They were...so I figured what the hell, and went over. They proceeded to benignly introduce themselves and invited me to sit for a beer. A very charasmatic group of travelers from Spain, Argentina, Austria and Brasil. They had noticed my hesitant arrival by myself out of the cab and dumbfounded immediate exit into the street--they wanted to know my story.

"An American...,traveling by himself...in BRASIL?!!!" The whole group shared the same shock value of who I was and what I was doing. In any case, we had broken the ice and they promised to take me out and show me a good time.

Thus nighttime rolled around and I was jotting unadulterated thoughts in my journal when the more accomplished Spaniard approched me and asked if I was ready for dinner. I was delighted by the invitation and gladly accepted. We went with a group of about half of the guests at the hostel, which made for an exciting meal where it seemed like noone understood anything of what was going on, except for the Carioca who seemed to be calling the shots.

Dinner ended and a majority of the group went back for bed. The Carioca, spaniard and Argentine however made good on their offer to show me a good time. The carioca told me that tonight was going to be the best party night in the city because there were normally two rival discos that split the crowd, but one had closed the week before, so "the whole world" would be going to the same place that night! I saw the gleam in his eye, and had no reason to doubt him..I was game!

After about 14 minutes of negotiating a cab price to the area of the disco, we piled in the mini Volkswagon and hooted and hollared about the night ahead. We were dropped off and there was already a line out front--I immediately went to the back to wait and go in...I have never seen more sheer disappointment in a man's face, as the carioca looked back for me, and proceeded to grab my arm and drag me up the hill to a bar in the street. "Not yet!" He said. "We are not even lose to going in there yet...first we wait...and drink!" Once again I was ok with the decisions of the shot caller, after all he was Brazilian, and if there is any advice I can say to one before traveling in Brazil, trust the locals and go with the flow!

--Ok Here is the actual caipirinha part--

So we sat down on a slanted table along fall line of street that served as a small plaza overlooking the disco, the and the chairs were awkwardly tilted in the crevasses between the cobblestoned street, and it took me a few arduous seconds of fenangling with the chair as to not completely topple over. They ordered a round of beer, which actually comes in one large bottle with a plastic sheath over it to keep it cold and 4 mini glasses. Brazilians like their beer cold, thus protective measures, small cups, and a lot of refilling. The Carioca, excited about my naivity, asked me if I had ever had ever drank a Caipirinha. I recogniczed the word and said yes...but of course...he didnt believe me....or moreover, I hadnt REALLY had a caipirinha. I accepted his stubbornness and said I would be delighted to drink a "Real Caipirinha" and for about 7 minutes he proceeded to flirt with the waitress, and as she almost got away remembered why he called her over, to order my first Caipirinha. He gave her the whole schpeel, I was an American, first time in Brazil, never had a real caipirinha, we are going to the disco a little bit later, etc etc.

She looked my way and smiled, the type of smile you get when you know people are talking about you and try not to pay attention, then they blow their cover at the same time you unpredictably give them the condescending glance of assurance that you know they are talking about you...and thus I did the whole wink and cheek smirk with the finger snap and point. She whisked her hair back and trotted directly into the bar.

Another 6 minutes and w were in need of a beer, and had almost forgotten about the Caipirinha by this point. THen, there it was, in a rocks glass with mutilated limes and a few ice cubes floating around, the waitress brought it to me and gave me a look of caution, but I nodded in appreciation and confidence that this is what I wanted. I should have known as noone else at the table ordered one, I was like the hamster on the wheel in kindergraden, and everyone was watching. "Saude!" I said and took my first sip.

The harshness of the Cachaça was masked by the perfect blend of the bitternes of the limes mixed perfectly with heaping tablespoons of sugar and ice. I wanted to cringe, but the sweetness made my eyes bulge as I set down the drink with a huge grin on my face...This is the best drink I have ever had!!! I thanked the Carioca for ordering it for me and proceeded to ffer him some, but he gave a confident gesture of , "not yet."

In love with my new drink and trusting of my experienced wingmans, my beer glass stayed full, but the caipirinhas kept coming.

I learned what was in the drink, Cachaça, the whiskey of Brazil and proceeded to ask various times how to pronounce it. ka-SHAH-sa ka-SHAH-saka-SHAH-saka-SHAHahhh whatever, I am sure there will be more in my future!