trout mask replica (formerly ‘fish-head’)

[Thursday note: the people have spoken. Trout mask replica it is and shall remain. By the way, I learn that one of the principal sources of food for your average tambaqui is fruit that falls into the river. No wonder the fleshy fellow tastes so delicious.]

Cognitive dissonance on the plate this evening. I was chomping away on barbequed tambaqui, an Amazonian river fish that sits on your table like it owns the thing. But eating it, all I could think of was trout - in particular rainbow trout, a delicate morsel happiest in the company of lemon, English new potatoes and roasted almonds. So here I am, in a fantastic roadside fish restaurant somewhere on the edges of Manaus and all I can taste is something I associate absolutely with Blighty. Don’t get me wrong, it was scrumdiddlyumptious - and far meatier than the faintly wimpy trout - but the experience was a little odd.

Nothing wimpy about Mototraxx. It’s a Chinese-owned motorcycle company here with big plans for expansion. The motorbike market is massive across South America, and the bosses say they expect growth to continue. That means there’s room for newcomers like Mototraxx, who are competing with the Japanese giants, Honda and Yamaha. But the Chinese ambition is extraordinary: I was told that Mototraxx’s plan is to export bikes from Brazil.. to countries in Africa. I think I’ve got some good moments from my trip to the factory this morning, but something important was missing. Federal customs officials are on strike, at least in some parts of the country. And that means Mototraxx’s supply of new parts has dried up. So instead of the mechanical thrum I expected to hear from a full-throated production line, there were subdued groups of workers in spotless white overalls simply sitting and waiting for the gears to start moving again. At PRI’s The World, we’re in the sound business so the absence of interesting, descriptive sound is frustrating - especially when ordinarily you’d be in the money.

So, a small disappointment there, but nothing that can’t be overcome. And whatever worry I may have felt about the sound of silence was washed away by a remarkable afternoon with some local musicians. I’m not going to give away the name of their band quite yet, but I will say that they make beautiful, gentle music with one eye on rainforest preservation. They treated me to a private performance in a small home studio - and there wasn’t a pan pipe in sight. If the good burghers of The World’s Global Hit approve, I’ll get them on the radio when I’m back in Boston.

(By the way, I seriously considered titling this post ‘trout mask replica’. Think I should’ve gone with it?)