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Neighbours

Today I finally had my arrest papers from Brazil translated by Rachel, one of our local naturist chums. When Chris, Poof, & I sailed across the Atlantic and arrived in Brazil we were arrested in a bar in the islands of Fernando de Noronha for some, umm, trivial offence, and taken off to the Policia Militar HQ. After a bit of hassle and interrogation they agreed to let us go if we signed some forms, so we did. The most interesting part is that they've written that we did not undergo any physical torture or assault whilst in custody.

One of the interesting things I discovered in Asia was that a lot of backpackers from the USA are now sewing Canadian flags onto their backpacks to hide their nationality. It appears that some US yachts are doing similar things as well now - there's a boat next to us in the normally peaceful anchorage tonight that isn't flying an ensign. The people onboard it talk very loudly, play very bad music at high volume (whilst I try to listen to Cafe del Mar at a respectable level), and, oh, the yacht's registered in Road Island. Time to play my 'Now that's what I call Arabia' cd, I think.

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