A travel letter from the Lazy Tourist

Written by Anne E. Holm aka the Lazy Tourist

Being a lazy tourist is tough:

• One has to concentrate on doing absolutely nothing for several days in a row – which can be quite exhausting if one is taking a break from a life where one is used to doing something all the time.
• It takes a lot of effort to constantly ignore the fact that there are people, non-tourists, around you who are actually trying to live their life and do their jobs.

Fortunately, the circumstances under which one is practicing the lazy tourist life are such that, after a whole day of not doing anything at all – and energetically ignoring those who are doing something – one is in a position to enjoy a good night’s rest. Considering all of this, one must say that Fazenda Alfheim is an almost perfect place to be a lazy tourist.

First, there are numerous spots – like the churrasqueira – where one can sit and do nothing for hours, not being interrupted by anything other than three itchy dogs that prefer lying on top of your toes (as all dogs do), nine pigs on the run searching for something to eat (which obviously must be buried under at least a half meter of soil...pigs are really pigs when it comes to eating), a duck mother with her 17 ducklings walking by ("Look, here my little ducklings...this is grass...yes, you can eat that. Oh, you found a worm, well, just eat that, too."), 25 chickens and a hideous rooster with a shoddy toupee on its otherwise naked, red head, and four guineafowl who are strutting along, extremely satisfied with themselves – a fact which they communicate to the world (just in case we hadn’t discovered this) by crying constantly, sounding like an old, squeaky bicycle passing by.

Second, there are numerous people working who one can spend quite a lot of time ignoring.
Rance is feeding the pigs, moving the cattle, patting the dogs (and Lone), driving to Vargem Grande for supplies and giving instructions to the employees. Lone is alternately busy chasing the pigs out of the storage room (where the corn is stored), trying to get the hens to lay on their eggs (as opposed to their neighbors' eggs) , planning the kitchen garden, walking the dogs, cooking, doing the wash and getting up much to early in the morning to practice yoga. And then of course there is Clair, Rosanna, Dirlei and João, who are all busy digging in the garden(s), building fences, slaughtering piglets and hens and ducks and cleaning the house.

All in all there are lots of things for a lazy tourist to do at Fazenda Alfheim...one doesn’t easily run out of tasks.

And as one sits in the churrasqueira -being as lazy as best one can, watching the sun shine from a clear blue sky onto the green, green grass, or onto the crown of dark-green jungle on top of a hill, or gazing at the flowering trees and the many-colored birds and butterflies, or tracking the mist as it comes crawling down the hillsides as day enters on night- one can’t help but think that the Good and Almighty Gardener must have had a pretty good day the day he decided to create this little piece of heaven on earth.

It may not be perfect –there are a few too many bugs, mosquitoes, flies, parasites and other bloodthirsty creatures jumping and flying around if you ask this tourist– but it comes close. And what an ingenious idea to place it somewhere where it on one not-too-rainy day could be bought by a Canadian executive and his lovely, Danish wife, who had a dream of turning this piece of pure nature into a piece of pure, producing nature...that later could be visited by one lazy Danish tourist and her husband, who insist on doing nothing –except maybe the dishes.

You see, this is really the lazy tourist's dilemma: on top of all of the aforementioned trials and tribulations, one has to work extra hard to persuade oneself not to feel obliged to do at least something to help somebody.

And I must admit, our self discipline faltered at times: we have been caught washing up on several occassions, baking breads, boiling eggs, making coffee and carrying as many as two buckets of water during the slaughtering of four piglets. As punishment for our lack of discipline, we spent two days by the coast at Pousada Picinguaba doing nothing more than saying "no" or "yes" when one of the staff kindly asked us if we wanted anything –adding "please put it on the bill" if the answer was ”yes”, thereby upgrading ourselves from lazy tourists to lazy, rich tourists.

Well, on Friday evening the fun is over, and we will be downgraded again –from lazy tourists to monkey class. We are going home, back to Denmark, back to work and in all likelihood back to snow and sub-zero temperatures.

And what have we learned:

• Happy pigs do indeed have long, curly tails.
• There is no chance of Dennis and I going native peasant like our friends in Brazil; we are much too happy living our suburban life in Birkerød. That said we would definitely like to come back and enjoy another farmhouse holiday with Loni and Hansi, settlers on the edge of the jungle (but please, remove the pigs from the garden first).