Santa Maria is asleep at six in the morning. The night before at the Reggae Rooftop Bar was once again bloody. Windfinder gave 16 to 18 knots for five to eight o’clock. With three good kite days in a fortnight so far, it’s clear what needs to be done: with four hours of sleep, I stroll through the dark streets, clean and still drunk, and look for the first awake taxi.

In the light of the headlights to Mitu Kitebeach, the salt of the salt pans shines brightly. I’m all alone on the beach. The orange and black striped tiger dog sleepily cuddles a lucky cat. A small flock of sandpipers play catch with the waves. White sand dunes shine golden in the sun rising behind clouds over Africa. Above, the moon watches the waves. On some days, kitesurfing is a religion. (more…)

The wind comes back on the penultimate day. I don’t need any more offshore wind. At lunchtime I get a trip to the RIU Karamboa Hotel in the south of the bay of Sal Rei. The wind here is only about 30 degrees side-offshore. I set up and have a look around.

Another one of those Smurf houses. All-inclusive terrourists, snot-covered banderl wearers and a caipi with beach volleyball. Sun bangers, topless, fuck everything and especially the country and its culture. Off to the bar. A water please, here’s the money. But drinks are only available everywhere with a banderl, nothing else. (more…)