Itaipava

It amused me that the message here seemed to be: ín order to light the barbeque, get absolutely trousered.

Itaipava is about an hour out of Rio, traffic permitting, and each weekend hoards of city types jump on the motorway to hobnob with mountain folk.

This time of year seemed like a good time to go and sample the pseudo alpine hospitality (we even went to a German style sausage restaurant!).

What cracks me up is that in these inclement freezing times (it nearly dipped below 20 today) it seems there is nothing more chic than to put on a big jumper (and even a scarf) an sit on a terrace somewhere clinging to a hot chocolate for all you are worth.

Personally I want to see If I can go a full 12 months without wearing a jumper. So far so good.

The highlight of the weekend had to be our (extremely) successful churrasco. This Brazilian art form is not for the faint hearted, and we knew we were taking on a tough challenge as we blitzed the supermarket and bought the essential gallons of beer and picanha (the sublime cut of beef that really is a must on these occasions).

Lighting the fire was a bit tricky, until our delightful housekeeper pointed out that it would be much easier if we just plugged in the massive electric fan and blasted it until the ensuing inferno threatened to burn the bloody place down. Still, I reckon we had enough beer to douse the flames and get trousered. Nice.

It rocked. Really. And to top it off the beer was 89 cents a bottle. Which beer? Itaipava of course - very nice too.´ Can't thank our friends enough for getting us away from it all. Just what the doctor ordered. Nice one.

Itaipava, the beer.

Itaipava, the place they named the beer after. And you can see why. Frankly I might suggest it as the name for our next child.