On/in the floating prison otherwise known as a knox class frigate there was an annual exercise known as u.n.i.t.a.s. in this case 1988. The last half of nov. that year was spent training the brasilian navy. We had ports of call and liberty in r.d.j., salvador and recife (spelling?) In each place there were elderly retired professional harlots who acted as tour guides for no cost to the sailors other than a gratuity at the end of the tour. Apparently they were licensed by the govt. at some level and were paid by the establishments where we gave custom.

I bought unset emeralds for all of my immediate female kin and leather jackets for pop and bro. We....me, dubose, davis, and another davis (HT, YN, SK & SH) dined at one of those joints you describe. I think it cost us $15 each and we sprung for our "guide". It took a while for us to ken the "green light/red light" signals to the wait staff. We filled to the back teeth and regretted our gluttony when we sallied forth into the syrupy atmosphere perfumed with diesel smoke and that ever present sanitary landfill antiredolence.

Of all the roasted flesh offered off of the skewers, my favourite without a doubt was the chicken hearts. They raked them onto my plate five at a time and I endeavoured to consume an even hundred but ran out of gullet space what with the other choice cuts.

A proper dulce was out of the question and a single slice of mango with my coffee sated the sweet tooth.