World Cup Tickets (and loads of other things)

So, I gave the blog a rest once I realised that so many of the things I was keen to bang on about had already been banged several times before. That said, I recently had a peep at some of my 'dear diary' moments and have now decided that if I feel like banging on about something from time to time, then good for me. At least I'll be able to make my kids cringe in years to come. And if you´re reading this, you are most welcome.
Here´s a couple of Whatwedidinrio bits and bobs, just so that when senility finally sets in, I´ll be able to read through and giggle.

World cup tickets sold out pretty sharpish. I think I got 3 group stage tickets for Algeria but is not proving easy to find out if I actually did or not. I do know, however that Fifa have my cash in return for my successful application for tickets. If anyone could shed any light I´d be most pleased. 

• We went to Blumenau (in Santa Catarina). Having never been to Munich for Oktoberfest (for fear of ending my life in a beery way), I'm told that this Brasilian version is the next biggest thing. Its like a big beer theme park. You buy tickets from a kiosk and exchange them for pint after pint after pint. Around 100k pissheads join you in this endeavour. And a series of oom pah bands provide an ecouraging soundtrack. Go there before you die.

• We went to Rock in Rio (again!) I joined in again this year. How could a music teacher let such a spectacle happen under his nose without joining in? I was so glad I did. I made the pilgrimage on each of the Saturdays - and ended each night at the 'Palco Mundo' watching the headlining acts - Muse on the first Saturday and Bruce Springsteen on the second. But before I mention the megastars - I should really begin by mentioning my afternoon stroll down  Rock Street (which had a decidedly british flavour this year). Sao Paulo Beatles tribute 'All You Need Is Love' performed from the roof of the VisitBritain stand recreating the Apple Studios' Saville Row concert of 1969. The Rock Street stage itself had a varied programme that was enormous fun and it well worth sticking around to take in in the festival within. A highlight for me was the Rock Street Big Band tearing up some standards to encourage the afternoon revellers - the arrangement of 'Lady Madonna' was a riot.Ok - and so to the gargantuan main stages. I honestly loved it all but The Offspring (Palco Sunset) proved that they had nothing to prove whatsoever and Florence (and the machine) demonstrated that she deserved the high billing of the support slot to Muse (who, incidentally knocked out an outstanding show as always - only thing is I didn't get a true sense that theirs was a gig that they had come specifically to Rio to knock out - they somehow didn't seem to capture the imagination of the crowd who so desperately wanted to feel loved in their company. I suppose it felt like Muse were just doing what they do (which is outstanding), but as far as they were concerned, they could have been anywhere. I bet it was different when they played Cornwall

• So - onto the Boss. Blimey. A lesson from beginning to end on how to be a bandleader with the universe under his thumb. I've never experienced such a huge wave of happiness and excitement generated so quickly - his set began with  Raul Seixas 'Sociedade Alternativa' - it was so exciting to hear him open his gig in Portuguese with the band hitting it for six - every one of them working with every ounce of their passion until the very end, some 2 hours and 40 minutes later.

Just How Festive Can You Be When It's So Bloody Hot?

Pretty festive, it turns out. The porteiros of Copacabana certainly know how to illuminate the streets. Our lad now has an exponentially increased risk of electric shock, thanks to a never ending daisy chain of fairy lights that tangles itself around every tree and trails though every puddle from here to eternity. Maybe they just want small children to light up too?

We've got joy, we've got fun, we've got Santa in the sun....

Just like everywhere else, the supermarkets and shopping malls declared Christmas months ago, but now it most definitely is the season, it seems that writing post-dated cheques to complete your shopping list is an option in all but the swankiest of places. Christmas on tick... reminds me of an Alan Bleasdale sitcom, only slightly warmer and less grey.

Santa (Papai Noel) is everywhere and the young and old seem to enjoy sitting on his knee and whispering their wildest desires into his shell-like. Only difference is that over here, he never seems to have a grotto - moreover, he camps out at the bottom of an escalator somewhere and any old Tom, Dick or Raphael can stand around and take a picture. Ho ho ho.

Oh, and the cabs have declared that tariff 2 is the new tariff 1. So before you embarrass yourself like I did, don't have a go at your driver - it might be a bit steep, but its legit. Just don't feel you need to chuck any more of your worldly wealth into the tips box he's tied to his headrests. Cheeky bastard.

The guys at our juice bar sing a song when you offer them a seasonal tip. I wonder if you went overboard and chucked them R$50 whether or not they would be able to improvise a full on nativity musical, with assorted sarnies and fruit as props. Just a thought.

As for the big day itself, what better way to spend Christmas than beering it up on the beach to those little known artists Gilberto Gil and Stevie Wonder! - For crying out loud - these people know how to have a knees up. Personally, I'll be doing slightly more familiar things back in blighty, but if I weren't, I'd be drinking disco piss in Copacabana for sure.

Merry Christmas! - What does it mean to you?

Are we there yet?

We're going home for Christmas - and the thought of all that decent beer is becoming all-consuming. Our little one is about to meet some of the family for the first time, and our not so little one is about to freeze his bollocks off.

Me and the boys. 3 Brass monkeys.

Festivities in Rio are going rather nicely too, however. We sang carols yesterday (or rather we chased our whirling dirvish as he ran laps around the church while a distant choir reminded me of a time when wassailing involved beer and yawping, rather than plea-bargaining and horrible threats)

Fa la la la laaaa, la la la la

The tree looks nice too. Ahhh. Almost worth the hour or so it adds to your journey every time you go anywhere near it.

Over at Jardim de Allah, there's something of an extravaganza going on. We went in the rain, but our little fellah didn't care. He too great joy in the various nativity interpretations on display - particularly the one that was all penguins and seal - 'Look mummy, its a really big foca, look at the baby foca, oooh a mummy foca' - it was worth getting soaked, honest.

Move on please, no Foca to see here.

And now we have 4 more work days, a bit of shopping, a beer or two - and then we're off. Anyone need anything?

So, How have we all been? What we did in a week in MG.

So it seems I'm back in the mood to continue with my contribution to the internet. Lets face it - if I don't it simply might not get done.

Where to begin? Well, we went to Minas Gerais - I can definitely recommend that. One week with the family eating, drinking etc. Our whistle stop tour was as follows:

• Hired car - drove to Bela Horizonte (bloody miles)
 

• Stopped at Estalagem do mirante in Brumadinho for three nights for great food, marvellous hospitality, really bloody dangererous steps for kids and a view to gloat about for years to come. In fact, repeatedly risking the lives of your young ones is most definitely worth it.



The View



And The Pool

 

• Visited Inhotim. - Without doubt the most impressive collection of Art installations and Botanical Gardens I have ever seen. Go there before you die. (the website says it all). It needs at least two days of your life, but with a 3 year old and a baby, and delightfully blistering heat, you might be tempted to axe the second day. We were. In fact we did. What a bunch of plebs.

Our lad's favourite. Beetles in the grass.

• Went to Ouro Preto. Did all the stuff you do there, including trying to drink all of their artisanal beer. Not sure about the taste of any of it to be honest, but it turned pushing the buggy on the bastard cobbles into a total pisstake. Think Paraty but with slopes in every direction.



Pint Of Backer's please - oh how I miss the Horse and Groom...



• Went to Tiradentes. Did the train ride, and the horse and cart. Both supplied much joy to all, not least are uncontrollably excited 3 year old madman. Drank fancy Cachaça and finally began to understand what all the fuss was about.
• Drove back to Rio.

If you have a week to kill there are a whole load of worse things you could do......

Or you could just stay at home and get stuck into one of these..... That stuff on the beach might never be the same...

 

  



Can´t get enough, of that funky stuff

I'd buy that for R$1!

A few of cool musical things have happened to me recently. A colleague needed a last minute replacement for a gig at Teatro Carlos Gomes and I was in the right place at the right time.

The gig was for 70s carioca funk outfit, Gerson King Combo and the vibe was great. Can't believe how much I've missed this style of music, and the chance to play with these guys at a busy theatre gig was certainly not to be missed.

Click here to hear what they are up to - what staggered me was the sheer diversity of the crowd - hip twenty somethings to proper old dears. Great way to spend the early evening. - And the best thing was that the Prefectura subsidised the event so that punters paid a mere R$1 to get in! - Fantastic. All part of the campaign to hold some of the commuters in the city until the congestion dies down. Are you listening Mr Mayor of London? (whoever you happen to be right now....)

Band is available as a 9 piece + gringo at no extra charge

So, with a rekindled desire to be attacked by phat funk, combined with the need to embark on wholesome and boozy outings while I'm home alone, lead to me going to see Band Black Rio at Casarão Ameno Resedá. This legendary funk outfit also delivered, and this time in a really cool venue near Catete metro, that makes you feel as if you've just walked onto the set of a Bacardi advert.

Can't recommend this place enough and R$40 seemed pretty fair given the quality of the venue and the calibre of the band.  I would definitely get over ther and shake your booty before the world and his funky dog starts queueing around the block to get in. (the restaurant downstairs looks good too). Not sure about the after show DJ though. Erm, actually I am. He was bollocks.

Maria Fumaça - A Staple of Brasilian Funky Stuuf - uuuuuhuu!

Now I just need a mortgage for the Maceo Parker tickets in June..... 

Mind Your Tongue In Laranjeiras

I remember going round to my Grandma's house and doing all sorts of things that seem really strange now that I'm looking back at them. But sometimes those memories come flooding back, triggered by random things that happen by surprise.

It happened last night. I went out for a million or so beers with a couple of friends in Bar Serafim in Rua Alice, Larangeiras, and of of them ordered tongue and onions for us to share. The memories of Grandma's sandwiches returned and I couldn't help but smile. Who would have thought that all these years on, and so far away, I would be pondering my bickering grandfolks and getting the beers in. - It really was excellent, although I have to admit not something I would have plumbed for myself. Must remember to remain more adventurous in my menu perusal.

Anyhow if Lingua Cebolada is not your thing, then the rest of the Portugues menu is also superb and the location is smashing. I´ll be back.

Did you just stick your tongue out?

Reasons to feel like a cheerful Carioca. Part 1.

We have houseguests again! - Always a welcome diversion and a chance to rediscover this and that. I don´t reckon I´ll ever tire of nipping up Pão de Açúcar. This lastest time included a sunset that I´ll remember for a while!

Anyhow - when people visit and I have to work, I try took line them up with a few bits and bobs to supplement what the Lonely Planet has to offer. And this time I`ve noticed that I`m actually starting to develop a slightly more natural rapport with this cidade maravilhosa. This in turn makes me feel like I actually (and only occasionally) know what I'm doing.

1. I know bus numbers.
2.  I know where to peep out of the cab window to grab a cheeky view.
3. I have first hand experience of at least a dozen conveyors of pork sandwiches.
4.  I have a carioca card. (though I don't really know why)
5.  I drink coffee sold from the back of some bloke`s car.
6. I don't notice that the bus driver seems to be posessed by the devil anymore.
7. I read the paper on the metro. (well.... I actually only read the easy bits)
8. I'm developing a creative sense of timekeeping. (not sure if this is a good thing)
9. I've started folding all my money into a big wedge that actually amounts to very little.
10. I've used my credit card to buy a coffee.
11. I've sat on a bench outside a restaurant queing to get in.
12. I've worn outlandish fancy dress in public.
13. I'm developing a tolerance for beer beyond my wildest dreams.
14. I sometimes find myself eating a piece of toast with a napkin.
15. I eat feijao in the pub with my 2 year old.

Now  - I know these are small moves - and I know that I'll forever be a big tall 'rob me' gringo - but for the moment at least, I feel like I've turned a corner. Get in.

(still reckon it'll be a while before I go to the supermarket in a pair of swimming trolleys though)

Oooh baby baby

Blimey - so much has happened since I was last here - so much, in fact that I'll have to bore the world in installments or else I disturb them by droning on once they're asleep.

The biggest news is that our family of three will become four in July - which opens up a whole new chapter in our lives. I'm sure that my year-old relationship with Brazilian bureaucracy  has scarcely prepared me for the odyssey of paper that will no doubt be delivered along with our bi-national bundle of joy. Best get cracking with the Portuguese lessons then. Bring it on!

The other bit of news is that this teachers epic holiday of holidays is at an end, so I now have to go back and join the rest of the universe on the treadmill. Still, it was fun while it lasted (and although I'm not riding tubes ala Keanu Reeves in Point Break, at least I can stand up on my board, dude)

Oh, and I'm playing in a Carnival Bloc! - It seems my trumpet might not turn into a rusted museum piece after all. I went to the first rehearsal at the weekend. It was up there with the most beery occasions in my life. Pure anarchy. It was only the tinnies that kept the 3 (or was it 4 or 5?) conductors from loosing their collective mind. Can't wait for the next one.

Holiday Wednesday

Back in the UK, random days off usually happen on a Monday. No Idea why - here they happen on whichever day has been bagged by the occasion deemed worthy of allowing the nation to do as it pleases for 24 hours.

So, it was bank holiday Wednesday today, and I've had a mini weekender all in 24 hours. Last night (Tuesday, but effectively Friday)  I hit the glorious Pavão Azul  in Copacabana, and behaved precisely like it was Friday night. I was, after all celebrating having made it through 37 years relatively unscathed.

Chicken, feijao and beer.

This morning (Wednesday) was effectively Saturday, so me an the little rascal watched kids TV and then headed out for an early lunch (which was effectively Saturday night) - we had Galeto and he demolished an unholy amount of feijao. Good news, 'cause he spent the next 2 hours (effectively Sunday lunchtime) spark out in the buggy, and I whiled away the time at one of my prefered kiosks watching the world go by. Many of the 'world' were, incidentally, a thousand or so pissed up students on their 'Dawn of the Dead' style zombie march. Quite entertaining.

The Brama kiosk, just near Barraca 86 - Barraca de Fatima

The he woke up, and I spent Sunday afternoon in the park with Jed (see what I did there?). And then our early evening scran was at the old favourite on Belford Roxo - Pizza and a bottle of Original to boot.

And no Sunday on a Wednesday is complete without chasing after your child while he tries to drive...

Now its Sunday night and I'm snoozy to say the least. And its Thursday tomorrow. Only 2 days till next weekend. Get in!

Just the two of us....

So, mum is working away back in blighty in the freezing bloody cold, where the trains are late, and the chavs take to the streets and pilfer the flat screens they need to survive. Back to the Horse & Groom and the beer in glasses big enough to swim in. Am I jealous? Yep. A wee bit. More than anything I miss us being an invincible trio.

When we moved to Brazil I had no idea how much it would remind us how close we are. Dealing with this whole adventure is the ride of my life, and I love every second. Even if it takes some reflection to love the shit bits.

Right now I'm sinking cold beer on the beach, waiting for him to wake up for the next installment of his glorious 2 year old life. I just want to share every last drop of it. (his 2 year old life, not my beer)

And to be honest I'm pretty knackered too.

Still... She'll be back before we know it. Best go and do the pots.

another cheeky Copa tinny, in a glass this time - it is Sunday after all....

Abacashheeeee!

Escola de Portas Abertas

It occured to me (or rather it has been pointed out quite a few times lately) that, although my intention is to keep an account of the beautiful way in which our family grows from one day to the next while we are here, painstakingly recounting each precious moment as the minutes become hours and days - I more often than not end up talking about boozing.

So for the next 2 minutes or so, I promise a teeny update on our ongoing family life, focusing, as our family life rightfully does, on our little fella.

On Saturday we went to the Creche´s open day. It was a giggle and a half. We watched our little man sing the songs and do the actions. We watched him run about and play with the hula hoops. We joined him for storytime and watched him stroke the rabbit and goggle at the chameleon.

And most of all we learned that, however groovy the nursery may be, the last place you want to be on a saturday is at the office! - After it was all over we went and bought him a new bucket and spade - and went and played on the beach. (and yep - I got the beers in!!! - Promised I´d only bang on for 2 minutes!)

Ok, you´ve got your picture, lets get out of here, I´m spitting feathers.....

gr

What We Did At Rock In Rio

Yes it is his hair. He´s got the receipt.

Well, we went and rocked - and here´s a few things I´d do If I went again. And a few I wouldn´t.

Overall, I have to say it was a fantastic night (we went on friday for Elton John and Katy Perry and some bird called Rhianna), and the sound quality was amazing for such a big event. The big names did their thing with predictable style and the punters loved it.

Ok here goes - do this:

1. Sort out your transport, preferably in both directions. If you want to get a bus the final couple of kilometers, you probably  need to buy a 'Riocard' first.
2. Wear shoes that might offer some defence against the thousand or so clumsy bastards that are going to dance on your feet.
3. Take money in small denominations. Its amazing how the price of a tinny goes up once they lay their eyes on your hefty note. I heard that cans (R$1 in the supermarket) were changing hands for R$20 in the wee hours of Saturday morning.
4. Get some rest before you go. The whole process is pretty knackering, so it might be advisable to not go out and have an accidental skinful the night before.
5. EAT! - Once you get inside, finding yourself hungry might just mean that you die of starvation in a queue to spend your life savings on a ropey looking burger.
6. Check out the whole place! - We caught a great band on Rock Street - well worth a listen.
7. Buy beers MANY at a time. The queue is enough to make you want to cry slowly and meaningfully. At least when the waiting is over, you can get stuck into more than one overpriced Heineken.
8. RELAX, even if your nerves are about to snap. Remember that moving this number of people around is no mean feat. Remember that one of the reasons you came in the first place was to be amoung so many people. Chill out and sing along.
9. SING/SHOUT/WAVE - Heaven knows you paid enough for your ticket.
10. Watch the highlights on telly! - I absolutely loved catching the best bits over a Pizza at 3am.... Almost felt like we were there all over again.

Some bird called Rhianna

And don´t do this

1. Don´t  drink too many before the bus journey.... Obvious advice I know - but the 40 minute bus ride to Barra took us 3 hours! - And nobody´s date likes to see their other half pissing in a bottle, do they?
2. Don´t sit down in the middle of the crowd without any warning (you know who you are!) - Its hard enough thying to make it through the singalong masses, but if a bunch of revellers suddenly decide to make the lawn their living room, then another bunch are going to fall over them.
3. Don´t wear flipflops. Only utter plonkers wear flipflops to Rock in Rio. Guess what I wore? Oh, and don´t wear crocs either - I´m all for starting an anti croc movement for no sensible reason. I just hate them.
4. Don't get too disappointed if things don't go according to plan. In fact, just be glad if you get there.
5. Don´t wander off anywhere outside the Rock in Rio site. Especially not on your own - stick to where the crowds are. There are some really dodgy looking types around.
6. Don´t take a posey camera. In fact, don´t take anything swanky at all.
7. Don´t try and get to the front.  - If you wan´t to be down there, then get there earlier, if not you´re going to spend the whole of the set pissing people off by treading on them.

That´ll do for now I guess. Did I miss anything?



He kissed a girl and he liked it.



Put your dirty foot in it...

The million or so local boozers in rio (botequins) are affectionately known as  pé sujos or `dirty feet bars`. I love that.

So, where should I dip my toe in? - In Copacabana there is a local boozer every 20 feet or so. And they vary in quality (and friendliness) much like they do in any UK city. I guess the best advice is just to go for it. Order a beer and put your feet up for a while. Just people watch. I love that too.

My local  pé sujos is simply wonderful. From the moment I set foot inside they were great. And I couldn`t speak a work of Portuguese without having a minor meltdown. Its called Saci-Pererê on Rua inhanga in Copacabana. The same guys are in there from one day to the next - and a friendly nod is about the extent of our communication, - but to be honest, a friendly nod is perfect.

Saci-Pererê incidentally is a folkloric character that the kids (including mine) learn about at nursery. Interestingly, he only has one leg, so I suppose that makes my local one of few `dirty foot` bars.

The food is to die for. Especially if you`re a fat bastard. R$10 buys grilled chicken, chips, rice and feijão. There`s enough for a family, but don`t let that put you off buying it just for you - thats what the hoards do at lunchtime. And they scran it as if their life depended on it. Probably `cause they have to hot foot it back to work.

In the evening its a more pedestrian affair, and somewhat more civilised. Unless the ode boys playing dominoes in the square kick off for whatever reason - just pace yourself. Its easy to get carried away and go one massive bottle too far. (this is where I sampled the deadly Paulista Fogo) But still - its there to be drunk. 

I wouldn`t use the bathroom though. Its the result of an international projectile pissing competition. Go in there and you really will be wiping your feet on the way out.

This from Rocinha - Don`t put your foot in your mouth

And remember - only a fool tests the depth of the water with both feet.

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....

All bottled up

Now, I was always partial to filling the trolley with a selection of as much beer as possible, and as such I've regularly sampled bottled beer till it has emerged from my lugholes. Imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon a healthy selection of English real ale in Rio Design earlier. I tell you what, if the urge to taste the sublime bottled genius of Marstons and the like hits me, then I might just get a bottle or two. Heaven knows how much it costs - this is one of those places where there are no price tags.
I could never have imagined that there would be a day when a pint of pedigree would be deemed a designer label.

Shit hot. I've been a style guru for years. Effortless chic mate, that's me all over. Pork scratching anyone?








Posted from my mobile! Assuming I haven't been mugged.

Uberaba, and the barbeque to end all barbeques.

Yep, thats right, Uberaba - and not a sniff of a filthy word, I promise. Its a city in Minas Gerais (the state that borders Rio). Now we´re 10 hours drive from Rio (or a short lazy, decadent plane hop, thankyou very much). Now those of you with one eye on the liturgical calendar (or a bent for stuffing pancakes once a year) might know that its carnival time. Thats right, dress like a total mentalist and paint the town very red indeed. In fact, pretty much nothing is taboo, as long as you do it very loud and proud and absolutely pissed as a fart.

Just to prove that it exists in the most traditional sense, Uberaba has a coat of arms. Here it is.

Now friends, I´m no prude or party pooper, honest, but the thought of a week long record breaking stag/hen do going on right on my doorstep, with our little lad desperate to join in was a thought a trifle too much to bear. These days I´m able to show restraint on many occasions, but the test of Rio Mardi Gras was not a test I was prepared to take. So here we are, on a trip down memory lane for her, and an adventure into the ´Triangula Mineiro´for me and the little one. To be honest, in its own way, its just as mental here!

I don´t know what the weather´s like where you are, but here we have a kind of steroid fueled ´sunshine and showers´. Its either a blowtorch straight to the torso or its torents causing drains to instantly flood and streets turn into rivers. This meant that out quick hop by plane took an extra 4 hours and an extra airport. You know what. Not one of our fellow passengers grumbled in the slightest. I couldn´t believe that by some miracle we had joined the 2011 reunion of the all Brazil chilled-out society. When we landed, there was actual spontaneous applause. Remind me not to be so unreasonable the next time we are subject to leaves on the line.

Ok - so we met up with our carnival team, and headed off to the house on a hill. We were the first, but not to worry. Beer first, and it came in the huge bottles that I have learned to love so much. Kids charging about. Much hugging and introducing and stuff. Pretty festive to be honest. Just no tree.

Now - I´ve done the right thing and manned the barbeque before - to both the delight and horror of our guests. I´ve made everything from exquisite lamb kebabs to uncooked near death experience comedy chicken. I´m sure we´ve all been there. I´ll shut up.

This barbeque experience, was unlike any other. For a start, in order to promote a strong team spirit, everybody was most keen to do their bit to help by drinking beer like it was about to be confiscated. The cooking was left to a pro, who the ringleaders had clubbed together and organised. This superhero of the charcoal grill was relentless. We were in very good hands. All we had to do was eat and drink for SIX BLOODY HOURS. I have rarely experienced such deep and heartfelt happiness. More delightfully seasoned, perfectly cooked beef? Don´t mind if I do!

In usual circumstances, I´d be writing with a stinking hangover. But in true festive style, I´ve done the age-old boxing day trick and jumped right back on the horse. Hmm, talking of horses, we spent the day at the Jockey Club getting roaring drunk again. Clever. Very clever indeed.

The Jockey Club - Not a bad place to waste time getting plastered. We did. Both.

Whats That Got To Do With The Price Of Beer?

Now, with an 18 month old son in tow, it will come as no surprise that our beer drinking escapades have all been short. But thankfully, living in Copacabana, they have been many. Now, I can't talk about late night places yet, but here in Copacabana, there are at least a million ways of getting it down you. Any way up it comes ice ice cold.

Now as my Portuguese develops, I'll embarrass myself less (I hope) - for now I'll just have to explain it using my most familiar poor language skills. Here goes:

1. Tinnies, cans - to be drunk everywhere, especially on the beach using a polystyrene hugger (are they called eskies?) - currently price ranges from R$2.50 from a news stand to R$4 served right into your hand as you lay on the beach burning yourself to a cinder wondering if you've (a) gatecrashed a supermodel convention. or (b) witnessed a Pat Butcher look-a-like trying to get away with wearing Bianca's bikini.
2. Bottles - Now, longneck bottles are decidedly posh (and about R$5) - but the bottles I'm talking about (and currently my beer vehicle of choice) are a mighty 600ml. Now if there are two of you, or three, or five for that matter - just order one at a time. Avoid any British urge to cling on to your own drink like it was keeping you alive. Learn to share. Everyone gets a small glass, and everybody drinks beer quick - so it stays cold. When the beer is gone (and much like Mr Ben's Shopkeeper) - all of a sudden, another one appears. Magic. Oh, and each gargantuan bottle comes in at around R$4.50.
3. Chopp. Draft beer. Quite posh - but been nonetheless and not to be sniffed at. And at R$5 a glass I find such blatant displays of oppulence frankly unnecessary.

Ok, thats beer far from covered, and no doubt a basis for further serious conversation.