Dr. Batista woke up before me and was already on the large leather sofa as I walked downstairs. His wife and childen had left the house for their seaside cottage the day before, where I understood they would spend New Year's Day apart from us.

When she was home, Dr. Batista's wife, Odessa, would set breakfast and hot coffee upon the dining room table, waiting for us when we woke.

Today there was none.

I asked Dr. Batista if he'd like me to make coffee or cook something to eat. No, he told me, he would not eat. "When the family goes away," he said, "that's when I stop eating. If there is no food on the table, I will not get hungry. This is how I lose weight. I would rather not eat and loose a kilo a day than go out and run or something. I hate exercise."

It sounded like an interesting idea, and since I admired Batista and lived in such close quarters with him, I thought, "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." I asked him how he made it through the day without food. "Drink water," he told me. Then he added, in his laconic way, "Lick salt."

"O.K.," I told him, "If you won't eat today, I'll try to go without food as well."

"Don't say 'try' he snapped. "That gives you a way out."

That day I did not eat; I walked around Curitiba with nothing but a bottle of water under the hot sun. My stomach began growling after about six hours without food, but all I did was drink water. I stopped by the health club where I worked out to say hello to friends that worked there. One girl was eating potato chips.

"Want some?" she asked. I declined and thanked her. When someone else offered a snack, I politely refused and explained why I was not eating. I told them how Dr. Batista stopped eating in his family's absence. My friends shook their head in disapproval, said that depriving yourself of food was not a good way to lose weight, and I told me that I should not listen to this crazy man.

That night on my walk home it was difficult to pass Cravo e Canela, the local bakery, without buying a few freshly baked rolls. Once home, I willed time's passage. I swallowed more water to fill my belly, but the emptiness didn't go away. Finally I fell asleep.

The next morning I walked downstairs and casually mentioned that I hadn't eaten a single thing in the past day. Batista did not seem impressed, but then, he never was. "The first day is hard," he said, "and the second day your stomach will growl," he told me. "The second day is the hardest, you just have to resist the urge to give in and eat."

I began to wonder if I should try going for a second day without food. Here I was, I had made it to the next morning, and I wasn't dizzy or weak. I had actually made it one full day without food. It was December 30, 1999, the first day in my life I had eaten nothing. All I would have to do is go a second day on water alone.

"If you don't eat anything for two days," Batista continued, "you will no longer be hungry. You will stop thinking about food. All you have to do is remember to lick salt; it makes you thirsty, and then you will drink water, which will keep you hydrated."

I walked out of the living room and passing through the kitchen, I noticed that the banana basket, usually full, had only a few bananas remaining at the bottom. Where had the bananas gone, I wondered? I walked over to Batista, still reclining on the soft leather sofa, puffing on a cigar and asked if he had eaten any food since the previous day.

"No, I didn't have any food," he said.

"It looks like most of the bananas are gone," I said.

"Oh, I didn't have any food...just a few bananas...they just help to lessen the pain when the stomach growls," he told me.

I could not believe it.

My feeling of accomplishment at having made it a whole day without food dissolved like the wisps of smoke wafting from his cigar. I knew that he was sadistically happy to know that for an entire day I had endured the pain of an empty belly while he had been scarfing down bananas. This was just Batista's way of toughening me up, putting me to a test, and having some fun along the way.