News that Brazil’s Manaus, a city now 2 million strong in the heart of the Amazon, has the world’s worst coronavirus toll, brought back memories, all bad.
Arriving there half a century ago in the most appalling heat & humidity, the following exchange occurred when checking in to the hotel in those pre-air-conditioning years.
Me: “Where can I have a swim?”
Receptionist: “We have a swimming pool Sir.”
Me: “There’s a bloody 10 ft crocodile in it.”
Receptionist: “Oh yes Sir. It belongs to the owner.”
To much muttering from the receptionist about piranhas I ordered a taxi and headed for the river (Rio Negro) where I lay underwater for a time amidst an alarming array of diverse creatures.
Given the city’s history of failure it always amazed me that Graham Greene never went there as it was vintage ‘Greenland’ territory for a gloomy Latin saga he specialised in writing.
On that note I re-read “Our Man in Havana” last week.
I mention that as the following day came the photographs of North Korea‘s massive new ICBM missile in the annual military parade. Mindful of “Our man in Havana’s” plot I’ll wager the rocket was bogus and simply an empty metallic shell. After all, who’s to know?
My thoughts exactly re the metal on the truck
I think it likely the Americans will know but they won’t let on. I don’t know for sure but I have heard the images they get from their spy satellites are pretty good. They will have infra red images that will indicate the weight of the carriage carrying the missiles. A bit like snicko in cricket: the bigger and brighter the image, the more energy transferred and the bigger the contact of the ball on the bat. Similar images from the road surface after the missiles have passed over.
Cunning people these scientists.
The rockets are for the locals. Ooo and Ahhh. A distraction from being hungry.