A Bus Ride with Alperon - part 1/2

{Alperon is one of the famous Israeli Crime families. The name is burrowed here for the purpose of the Title only, and my own associations during it}

As I was sitting in the bus terminal in Foz do Iguacu, awaiting my night bus to Porto Alegre, I was considering the very low chances that there will be any real "story" to tell once I`m back.

Finishing my 4th day here (not including the very unevetnful 40-hours flight sequence), all I have to speak of is the Iguacu waterfalls - with a possible detailes-but-boring report on the views, comparing the Brazilian and Argentinian sides as advice for future travellers - and in between anecdotes on the worst "steak" ever (in Curitiba), a mouth-watering excellent steak in AQVA on the argentinian side, and a super-cheap eatery experience.

The road ahead is not very promising in this respect either - I`m heading to Porto Alegre next - a big blank city in the south with nothing much of interest according to all accounts so far, in a state that just experienced a club-disaster with over 200 youngsters dead and a one-month-long mourning declared for the city.  Following that, the outlook basically includes Florianopólis beaches (sand, ocean, cerveja, Cuba Libre, Caipirinha and likely an excessive dosage of Forro) followed by the Rio Carnaval (street, Parade, cerveja, Cuba Libre, Caipirinha and Samba).

 Then came the time to board the bus ...
{In the following, I randomly assign names to a few characters in an attempt to reduce confusion}

My first encounter with the Don was not the best of beginnings.
"You`re in my seat", I tried putting together a few words in Portuguese towards a couple that was occupying the 2-seater including my designated window-seat. The bus was still mostly empty.

The woman seemed somewhat confused/ questioning, so apologetically showing her my ticket, I added "ach`que sim" (I think so).

The guy, who I assumed was the husband/ boyfriend, explained to her that they have the two consecutive aisle seats, and hurried to free up the seat for me. I dumped my bag on the seat and went out the bus. When I got back, I only saw the guy, and offered him to exchange if they prefer, as for me it`s all the same. He dismissed the offer for some reason: "Nao, tranquillo".

At that point I noticed the butcher`s forearms along with a non-specific general feeling (possibly connected to the choice of tranquillo) that made me idiotically repeat that I really really would not mind changing places.

Last minute, a guy came on the bus, no-sleeve shirt showing off tattooed muscled arms, and sat right behind me, next to Don (Ricardo) Raymundo. "Well, no big loss for not making the change", I figured.

Soon, the bus got on its way, the Don joined me at his apparently-now-official seat, and started praying. Seemed as if he was going through a full chapter of prayer, and repeatedly crossed himself - finishing each time with a little kiss to the crossing hand.

Once he was done, he moved to the seats at the front of the bus, where I realized Senhora Dona Natalia (the wife) was now sitting with a woman that seemed to be another family member - Tia (aunt) Patricia.

Seeing Ricardo standing there over the ladies, something about the mixture of the family-head stance, along with the somehow familiar face, butcher forearms, and the completely unexpected religious angle made something drop in my mind - I`ve seen this before. On TV.
"I`m on the bus with Alperon (/Aberjil/ Abutbul)", I smiled to my own self-amusement and my developed imagination - obviously I was hungry for a story. Then I went on to my reading and music routine.

Over the next hour or so, the Don kept jumping between Dona Natalia`s, myself, the seat behind me for a chat with Rafael, or to one of the free seats around.  "Something`s wrong with the dude" I was amusing, but still gave it to my free-association along with the influence of me going through a Frederic Forsyth novel about fighting a colombian drug cartel. We then hit a "random roadblock" by the Federal Brazilian Police. Been in these before - a 10-min nuisance, I figured as I readied my passport for a police-check.  The Don joined me again at our seat - apparently better to seat at your desginated place for these checks.

{If one of my Brazilian friends can let me know what these checks are normally about - it should be revealing. Specifically, what`s the deal with all them "travel documents" I keep seeing people present as they board inter-state buses?}

We were idling at some station on the road-side for about 5 minutes, when the bus doors finally opened.

With 15 years in the Brazilian army forces before transferring to the Military Police`s BOPE division (Batalhão de Operações Policiais Especiais - Special Police Operations Battalion) 10 years ago, Lieutenant Colonel (Tenente-coronel) Martins has seen quite a lot by now. In the last couple of years he`s been in charge of trying to put some level of control over the trafficking madness in south Brazil. For this task, he was temporarily assigned to the Policia Federal as a Special commisionner seconded for this missions to the Regional Superintendent. As such, he was referred to as DPF Martins.

There is not much of custom control across the borders at Gaucho land - borders with Argentina and Paraguay are notoriously open for moving merchandize across without interruption and at minimum risk, and for reasons of international diplomacy that are apparently above his pay-grade, nobody seems to be planning to do anything to change that.  This was not a big issue before, as the damage was mainly around some Brazilian vacationers visiting the falls in Iguacu or the south Pantanal (Campo Grande), and dropping by to the Paraguaian border-cities for some "duty free" shopping. With time, and with the Brazilian economy, the Real and prices thriving, more and more gangs have taken an interest in the opportunities. From here, merchandize quickly makes its way to urban centers like Curitiba, Porto Alegre, and Sao Paulo, and include fake PC, mobile and camera equipment, and recently - a spike in drugs.
As the fight against drug trafficking made it more difficult for air and sea smugglers, this "hole in the fence" was too tempting, and recently a considerably higher percentage of the trafficking of drugs is moving through land routes.

If the intel he had was right, today his team would score a big hit towards putting a hole into that business. One kg of cocaine is small in the bigger context of things, but could make or break a smaller gang, add some question marks about the ease of using the route for other gangs, and no less important - bring back some pride and motivation to his team.

< music on >

As he walked into the bus, DPF Martins owned the Arena. Looking as if he came out from a classic Brasilian TV drama series, confident, erect, his short white beard neatly trimmed, it was pretty clear who is in charge, and other than his neatly tucked-in T-shirt announcing "Policia Federal", there was no need to explain anything to anyone on the bus. Just in case anyone misinterprets his calm demeanour, 2 extra magazines for his semi-automatic gun are on display clipped to his wide belt, hinting at the capcity for a quick turnover to efficient vioence. Without a word, Martins walks down the aisle, taking in every detail in the arena, measuring, calculating, contemplating scenarios. All done very quietly, as in "the quiet before the storm", as in the sea quietly and gently pulling back just before throwing ashore a huge powerful and violent tsunami.

Myself, other than a glance, I went back to my book, figuring it will be faster than I figured, given that they were not even checking ID`s. To my right, though, Don Raymundo felt somewhat tense, starting to somewhat fidget in his seat.

Martins was slowly making his way from the back to the front, and as he reached us - again without a word - he reached down to the direction of the Don`s crothch after a small indication to let him. He seemed to be reaching towards the lower belly area just above the crotch, softly touching the Don once on the right side and once on the left with his finger. He continued to me, repeating the same on the right side alone, and moving on similarly all the way to the front of the bus.

{I have never seen this happen before, and if anybody out there has an idea - do let me know what this is all about.
I guess one could figure out this way if one of the passengers came on the bus directly after overloading at a nearby Churascoria - might be a federal offense in Brazil as this could turn into a significant disturbance to other peaceful passengers. My first thoughts were a check for a concealed weapon, but that makes no sense. Maybe a way to gauge for hyper tension (would have been the Down then) or for taking some constipation inducing medicine.
No idea.}

end of part 1.