The Last Caipirinha

The last Caipirinha was the best one, exactly because it was the last one. The time had come and past, it was time for me to hit the wagon for good. My romance with the Cachaça had lasted long enough, the magic was gone from the relationship and all that was left was drudgery and boredom but that wasn’t the worst of it, watching my own destruction, as I drank those frozen concoctions, which “yes” I falsely thought they were helping me hang-in, as if I were living in Margaritaville but this is much worse because Cachaça, or “pinga” as it’s called in Brazil slang, is more powerful, more prevalent and can be ridiculously cheap.

[box]For example, imported cheap tequila is at least ten times more expensive here but it’s not just that it’s the formula for a Caipirinha and how they’re constructed, plus with which Cachaça.[/box]

Listen to my love of the Caipirinha (above), see it was totally out-of control. Plus I liked to drink ice cold Heineken of Stella Artois at the same time, which I was always warned against. Brazilian tradition has a huge reverence for Cachaça, a folklore’ish belief in how, where, when and how much is a safe and smart amount. It’s free from small kegs, with little shot glasses, in most decent Minas Geriais (type of cuisine) restaurants. On the beaches they have some of the best hand-made drinks. All that’s needed is lime, sugar, ice and pinga for the absolute perfect beach cocktail.

It was a crazy, impulsive decision to join One Year No Beer and take the 90 challenge. It’s a social network for people like me, who want to win our lives back from booze and in particular beer. I also had respect and reverence for the mighty Cachaça and the oh-so-sweet Caipirinha, so I had a weekend’s only rule but would often break that rule. The thing of it is, beer is the ultimate gateway drug. My Dad gave me my first beer, everyone in Canada drank beer, it’s a national pastime to accompany, for watching hockey during the long cold winters.

Brazil has the best beer culture in the world, just watch some of our programmed Television and you’ll see a ton of sex-appeal selling billions of dollars of beer. There is cold beer everywhere here in Brazil and although I drank mostly imported, partly because it’s $1 or $2 USD cost, whereas I paid up to $10 USD in Europe.

My drinking days are over and I’m glad to say “tchau  Cachaça”.

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