In The Club....

Who would Jesus be?

So, I joined a football club. Something which will no doubt amuse those that are aware my general total lack of familiarity with the beautiful game in any way whatsoever.

Everyone here is something to the world of the round ball. Its almost like you have to be. Everybody is either Flamengo or Botafogo or Santos or something quite hard to pronounce. This identity transcends class, race or gender, and takes on an importance on a par with remembering your wedding anniversary (unfortunately this is also something that can confuse me)

So when they ask me and I don't know what I am, they kindly immediately initiate me into their baying gang on the spot. For this I am supposed to feel a warm sense of pride and belonging.

Anyhow - we joined Fluminense club in Laranjeiras because we needed somewhere to go in our spare time where our little bloke could cut loose with a marginally reduced chance of getting run over or falling off something. I just got back from a swimming and dossing around in the play area marathon, followed by a meal for both of us for R$14.50 and an inevitable couple of cold Skols. Now this friends, could turn the hardiest of footy agnostics.

What is more, I am confused and dismayed that our little man is showing some considerable interest in the bloody sport too, so in order to avoid an accusation of being  negligent parents, we will probably sign him up for lessons when he turns three in August.

Who would have thought it?

Lets have a night to remember...

We we screaming and yelling for the ones on the left,

Not least because It was the first time in my life I've watched two football matches in one evening. I've never really been that fond of the game (i blame the wankers back at primary school... grrr - you  know who you are.) In any case,  there is no denying that in all probability, you're gonna wind up watching it from time to time. Living in Brazil meant that it was only a matter of time.

We have guests at the mo - and one of the things they were keen to do was to go to a game. The only one that worked with their timings was Botafogo vs Avaí.

2 - 1 to the locals! - A result - and the small but enthusiastic crowd went mental. Proper eleven out of ten mental. Both samba bands erupted. Grown men cried. Strangers embraced. This was a mid week league game against a small second from bottom club. Blimey.

No beer allowed inside which was staggering, seeing as it seems to be acceptable to drink it in any other situation whatsoever. Still, never mind - the soft drinks woman may or may not have been willing (for a fee) to spike your pepsi with vodka - I couldn't possibly comment.

Not only water into wine, but also on the bench for the men in red and black...

We watched the Flamengo vs Santos game in Arco Iris Da Lapa - with a decidedly chic young and beautiful and absolutely pissed crowed. Once again the enthusiasm for the match was equal to nothing else I've seen.

5 - 4 to the locals. Shit hot. Cab home just about as plastered as my 200 new Brazilian mates. Quality.

I would travel the world to get the beers in here. Oh, I did.

Ever had a glorious lost weekend?

My student days were largely lost. Not just the weekends either. I would occasionally even stir from my heavenly resting place after the latest in a series of parties of my life and realise I'd missed a nine o clock lecture. By a day and a half.

Well, this weekend was a touch different, although as I sit here trying to piece it all together it occurs to me that the glorious weekend must have involved more than just a couple of cheeky ones. We did some really cool bits and bobs though - so if you're interested, here are the headlines.

Saturday was a lazy morning with lunch from the local bakery/petrol station. This place is an institution, and I'm sure I'll bang on about it for years to come.  Anyhow, given that the world (or at least the world that I'm familiar with) seems to be football obsessed, we decided that it might be time to just roll with it. We met up with a crowd at INVICTO - "Sports and Fun Restaurant" to watch events unfold. Pretty good boozy fun really - and our little man joined in where he could. As the afternoon progressed, his banter seemed more and more profound and sensible. Come to think of it I was concentrating so hard on the refreshing Bohemia, I must have forgotten to pay closer attention to the game. Still, I'm sure I can ask a few of the United fans I know to enlighten me.

Anyway - this bar was pretty trendy, and had one of the infamous 'consumption card' systems. Best get used to these. Its like a reverse debit card. You just collect one when you arrive and go as mental as you like. Everything you buy goes on the card. Three course meal, bottle of vodka, beers for everyone, you name it. All you have to do is pay it off and collect a ticket so you can leave. I've heard some pretty grim stories about what happens when these cards get lost. Still, not to worry, I can't imagine how anyone could be so daft - especially after 2 barrels of booze and a bag of chips (which cost a tenner, incidentally)

And so onto the lagoa for a lovely evening stroll ending at 'Bar Lagoa' - where apparently the waiters can be a bit arsey. This is a real Carioca institution - frequented by misty-eyed students, pensioners and novella stars alike. Our waiter was a top bloke - shame really, I was expecting the full-blown quasi Parisien snort. Never mind, I'm sure if we go again we could ask for someone a bit pissed off.

Maybe if I kicked him in the knackers....

The Hippy Hippy market, and the shower of all showers.

Bring a brolly. A really sturdy one. Once upon a time a friend of mine told me about the time it started raining in London, and he nipped in to the nearest restaurant to let the staff know that he thought he had left his black umbrella there the night before. They found it, and he walked home.

Had he bollocks left it there. He just wanted to get home dry.

Oh how I wish my lamentable Portuguese could stretch to such daring and despicable acts. Heres why.

Sunday (Easter Sunday in this case) sees the hippy market right by the General Osorio Metro station. Its huge - and by all accounts a must for all those last minute trinkets you want to take home and stuff in a drawer somewhere. Anyhow - we did what we wanted to do and got a shift on, because the stormclouds were gathering apace.

And so to a nearby bar for hard-earned pasteis and beer - and it turns out the opening of the local Derby Flamengo vs Fluminense football match. Half way through the first half, the storm cut off the TV signal and the district turned into fanatical football crazed headless chickens running from bar to bar to see if anywhere was managing to show the match.

The rain got worse and worse - and the match in our bar returned just as the penalty shoot out was ending. 5-4 Flamengo if you're interested. Get the report here:

http://globoesporte.globo.com/jogo/campeonatocarioca2011/24-04-2011/fluminense-flamengo.html

Felipe (Flamengo) saves the day.

We ventured out and failed to hail a cab. Not before we were proper wet though. We ended up on one of the busiest busses ever known.



At least we weren't freezing.

And I must take more photos.