I woke up at six in the morning far away at the very end of the house, the sun was shining in through the big windows by the balcony. I fell asleep again thinking of the bright sun until I was awoken again, one hour later.

Pete came in with his guitar, playing a tune that has now become quite familiar to us as our morning waking up song. Picking the chords softly he moved through the room slowly, continuing into the next drowsy room.

Several of the girls in the room scurry to gather their things in order to have time to catch one of the three showers we are all sharing whlst a few of us tiredly grumble our way down the steps to the kitchen where breakfast has been set.

Fruit, white fluffy bread, and coffee. A tired atmosphere hangs over the kitchen table. Something that possibly has something to do with our late arrival hame from Embu Guacu the previous night.

Finally we manage to drag our tired selves to gathering and as much neede energizers, Christina leads into a game of tag. Shrieking panting and laughing, the game carries o for maybe  10-15 minutes and is then followed ba a typical YIP song, led by the YIPies.

Then the typical announcements, dividing into working groups and then the day begins as the temperature starts rising to boiling hot.

Cement has to be prepared and flicked onto the walls that will torm a small parking lot, toilets need painting and the working space around the volunteer house needs to be tidied up.

Beside the normal tasks though, today Aramitan hosted a meeting  for the Aramitan trustboard and thus, tables needed to be set for a shared linch between the workcamp and the trustboard, and the dusty space neede serious cleaning.

The work carried on underneath the glaring sun and to the music of Manu Chao and pulsating hip-hop.

At twelve lunch was shared along five or four long tables with people, conversations in portugese, german, english and swedish, casually mixing in the melody of words.

A small group of people gathered afterwards for a sort of group discussion with Ute Craemer about her work and Aramitan. In the middle of the conversation the gas car passed by outside blaring that extremely familiar song that doesnt really make sense but sounds more like a composed accident. The gas car passed aroud twice before disappearing to certanly appear later. 

Now the girls are sunbathing and the grass, the brazilians rapping and listening to hip-hop whilst several other people take the opportunity of freetime to get some much needed sleep in the cool house.

The rest of the day has dancing, music and churrasco (barbecue) waiting for us, and at three in the afternoon, the sun is still scorching hot, the sky bright blue and Aramitan still filled with sounds and laughter.

Amanda