Always wanted to try this - so when my mate Ed Rome asked me to be part of his latest project - 'Snapshot - Dubs n Subs' - a triumphant reworking of his earlier album with different artists featuring on different tracks.
I'm on Track 7 - 'El Gringo' - and I recorded it in Rio, sending ideas back and forth for Ed to play with and put them into the final track. It was great fun! - Let me know what you think?
Rio Water Planet, tucked away just beyond suburbia in Vargem Grande is a belting day out - especially if, like us, you manage to get bad weather that puts off the queueing masses. Careful though, if too many are put off then it won't open the gates at all. A bus/cab takes an hour or so if the traffic is kind.
We were celebrating again. This time a 3 year-old's birthday. The little ones had fun splashing around a sliding down this and that. The huge video screen and sound system kept us entertained with whatever the young and beautiful like to split their eardrums to, and those of us over 120cm tall could nip up the mountain to test our mettle on a whole range of ways of sliding down to the bottom in seconds alone.
No food or drink allowed in either - you have to load up a consumation card like you just walked into a cheesy nightclub and then spend it all on a piece of chicken and 12 beers.
Keep an eye out for Groupon offers - its R$120 each otherwise. - We paid R$39!
*not only are they pretty strict about being tall enough to go on the big slides, they also won't let you ride on the small ones if you are too tall, which means that you may have to try chucking your children down some of the more friendly stuff on their own. Your call, but might be a good idea to make sure there is someone at the bottom squeaking encouraging noises at the plummeting toddlers.
**the tallest slide of all has a weight limit of 85kg. I achieved this milestone some time ago and the guy with the scales was having none of it. Can't help feeling that they should have had a spare set for those who had spent painful hours in the gym in order to smash this modest target. Bastards.
Ok - I'm trumpeting more these days and my next gig is Thursday 28th November 2013. Its a DVD recording for Gerson King Combo and the rehearsal yesterday sounded great.
Come along - the much needed cash to make the recording happen has already been made via http://catarse.me/pt/gersonkingcombo but there is still room for a little one if you fancy a school night wiggle.
Gerson is 70 and this is really a big celebration of Carioca-style 1970's funk. Think platforms and afros and an overdose of peace and love.
So, after a while making sure we had the right combination of energy and madness, I finally managed to get a band together. (Left to right) Trombone, Trumpet, Bass, Voice, guitar, Drums, Sax.
The picture is at our first gig, a smashing wedding in Sta Teresa. Give me a shout and we´ll come to your party and make a cacophonous racket that you are unlikely to forget.
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.
So - this rather entertaining obsession that society has with the fact that at some point today it will be over has made me think.
What we all love to to is romanticise and daydream and wish our lives away. We love the idea that, seeing as the apocalypse is imminent, we get to be just a touch more romantic, or at least a touch more likely to do the things that we have always hoped we would be able to do.
I remember my first trip to Brazil in 1998 - and although the days of hyper-inflation were over, the days of the money in your pocket being worth something different from one day to the next were not. Taxi drivers raced around the city literally trading cigarettes as word of their inflation spread from one district to the next. Guys stood on corner bars on Friday nights, drinking what ever their wages would buy. Being broke on Saturday morning was preferable to waking up with a pocketful of cash that was worth next to nothing!
And so this is it - my last work day in 2012 (along with half the city, it seems) - best start making it count. Personally I'm going to save a little bit for tomorrow and the day after, especially seeing as there's an outside chance that the prophets of doom might be talking out of their arses.
I'm here for the gig.....
Peace and love everybody - why not just do one little amazing, lovely thing for someone? Pretend its your last chance...
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.
So, a brit bloco is over in rio - and good grief, they know how its done.
Before we made our move to Brazil, I spent years nurturing a fascination with samba and bossa nova - and being a teacher, I loved the way that a truck full of drums could weave magic over performers and listeners alike.
I never got good at it though - and these days, the sensible musician in me is more inclined to keep my hands in my pockets rather than risk the humiliation of hitting something when it clearly should be left well alone.
Rhythms of the City (ROTC) however, took it to another level ages ago - and their brutal rock'n'roll batucada offensive is sure to turn heads - these guys are welcome to hang with Rio's finest (Monobloco, Sgt Pimenta, etc etc).
I saw them (and not all of them either) tear it up with a hall full of primary school kids. They performed to the kids with just the same energy that they would to Lapa's roudiest punters - Shitot.
In another flash of cultural inspiration we nipped to 'nos do morro' last tuesday to watch their musical - 'Bandeira de Retalhos' - a story about an attempt to demolish a section of Vidigal Favela in 1977.
Powerful stuff - especially as the theatre itself is in the heart of Vidigal, looking out onto the very spot that survived the attempted eviction and demolition. Amazing acting and musicianship, in a venue that is a truly special place, representing a really exciting and fresh company - even though they've been around for years.
There ya go - coupla cultural reasons to get of yer arse.
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 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...
We all love to catch up with our mates. Like most people, I miss the mates I've made along the way and don't see anymore. I especially hate it when couples I know go their separate ways and it becomes really awkward to socialise with one or other of them.
I also am guilty of being terrible at all things concerning my diary. I've tried everything from Gadgets to Journals to the Fridge Door to Google Big Brother to the Filofax to good old traditional pocketbook. It makes no difference how trendy organising myself seems to be, I'm bollocks at it.
Still, it turns out that here in the Cidade Maravihosa I might just have a modicum of licence when it comes to matters of the agenda. It seems that diary inaccuracies are not so uncommon in Carioca society either.
Before I go ahead and insult the Brazilians that might read my offerings, please allow me to point out that many of these tendencies have indeed been brought to my attention by Cariocas that (aside from being mates) should know better than to savagely betray their fellow countrymen with almost brit-like distain.
Anyway... here we go with a few appointment related Rio inspired observations:
If you make an appointment to see a doctor, don't assume it will happen at anything resembling the time you arranged, no matter how much you have to pay.
If you're late for your doctor's appointment, its fair to assume you've missed it and the receptionist has the right to grunt and groan and bollock you.
I you agree to meet someone 'at some point in the future' then this agreement is worth shag all.
The next time you should chance to meet the person from (3) it is perfectly acceptable to, once again, 'meet at some point in the future'
It is acceptable to invite up to 50 additional people to someone else's party, unless it is in their house, when a more modest 40 additional people is considered polite.
It is fine to hug, kiss and generally be over excited about meeting someone for the second time, even if you have no idea who they are. Artistry lies in finding out their name without them noticing.
It is ok to agree to do up to 8 things on the same evening and then do none of them.
'one for the road' - or a 'Saideira' means that to continue drinking for several hours is likely.
I'm sure I missed a couple, but I'm sure you get the idea.
Now i'm sure I'll attract some linguistic advice here, but one of my latest revelations on my roller-coaster Carioca assimilation programme has been the the way people here get each other's attention and address each other.
Like all civilised nations, its a good idea to say excuse me (com licença) before you barge past someone - this occurs more often than you would think. Particularly when you absolutely need to get to the door of the bus or the metro so that you don't end up missing out on an essential after work beer.
Now, when you inevitably walk straight into someone, once again, like anywhere, 'pardon me' or 'sorry' (desculpe) is just the ticket. And exactly like 'excuse me' you're going to need it several times a day - especially because walking pace here is only just bordering on momentum, and if you need to complete a hundred yard dash in less than 20 minutes, then I'm afraid you are going to smash into a poor ambling pedestrian at some point or other. I suppose this simpler alternative is just to join the ambling masses. Problem is, the gringo blood still coursing through my veins means that I am inclined to forget - just as the more unscrupulous locals might be inclined to rip me off or mug me.
Here comes the thing I currently find amusing. Its the way that people address each other. In a literal sense. It seems fine to just say what or who people are, or what they are doing. It even seems ok to shout whatever might be on offer just to get the attention of the person who might be offering it.
Cultural querkiness like this leaves a Gringo like me in a slight predicament. I'm quite happy shouting 'motorista' at the bus driver so that he makes my stop, but simply shouting 'Oi pão!' (oi, bread) at the guy selling bread in the pub makes me feel slightly like I'm being a wanker.
For the moment, I'll stick to what I know - I'll call my son 'filho' and I'll call the barman 'Patrão' (because I feel that i'd like it I were called the boss sometimes) - and while I'm sticking to what I know I'll have a couple of beers and see if I can make a list of these wonderful terms of endearment. And if i'm feeling a little braver I might try a couple. I did try calling my wife 'Mulher' the other day, and I have to say she wasn't sure it was a good idea. More research needed, that's for sure.
I like to cook - but I definitely wouldn't consider it a hobby. I haven't exactly become renowned for my culinary prowess over the years, but I've never poisoned anyone either, and I've definitely moved on beyond the student staples that got me through my hard, hard studies.
Come to think of it, in four years as a student, I seldom ventured into the kitchen for fear of contracting something incurable. And to demonstrate the sensitivity of my refined pallete, I ate some bloody hot curries that made me cry just for a laugh. Where does that put me in line for Jamie O's crown?
I do, however love to eat local food wherever I am and a work buddy recently organised a session with ''Cook in Rio' for us to try some Brazilian food (and be taught how to prepare and cook it!).
The occasion was a friends birthday, and it was a perfect way to celebrate. Not least because if you meet a bunch of people from work it is always a good idea to try and steer the conversation away from the bleedin obvious, and when everyone is 'hands on' from the moment they arrive, chopping, peeling, boozing etc, then it really does feel like a party rather than a works outing.
Simone was the culinary oracle of the moment, and she led us through Batida de Côco, Aipim Frito, Caipirinha, and Moqueca (there was more, but you get the idea...) - I'll definitely be giving it a go at home.
So - if you fancy fine-tuning your chopping or just getting tipsy with the excuse that you're absorbing another dose of Carioca culture, then give it a go - can't recommend it enough. Cheers!
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.
So.... no shortage of stuff to do in Rio at the moment.... and if a break from the onslaught of the Rio +20 earth summit is needed then it might be the perfect time to get stuck into one or more of the many ´Festa Junina´celebrations scattered around the place. Just don a checked shirt and get stuck in.
Festa Junina started out as a celebration of the nativity of John the Baptist. It is also a chance to thank St. John for the rain (although lately there might be a case for saying 'thanks for the rain and everything, but could we have something elese now - its been pissing it down for ages.'
Dress code is rural. That is pig-tails, gap teeth, freckles, strawhats and any other hillbilly stereotypes you can think of. Don't be shy, there is absolutely no way you will overdo it.
We took our little man to the Fazendinha Estação Natureza in Vargem Grande for the festa laid on by the creche - what a corker. Horse rides, climbing frames, ostriches, you name it - I suggest you give it a spin on any day (might want to check if its open first).
And, being a teacher - its always good to see just how excited the youngsters (and their teachers who actually understand what is going on) get about these events.Our bash yesterday was the real deal (with everything but the super strength São João booze - Quentão - Can't wait to get my hands on a wooden bucketfull!
I keep an eye on the weather forecast. I gloat from time to time, especially when I'm drinking in the sun. One thing I don't tend to bang on about is the rain.
Well today was one of those rainy days that reminded me why everything is so green and lush here. It reminded me that many of the streets in town simply don't have drains that can cope in any way. And it reminded me that the intrepid drivers on the newly formed underwater racetrack don't give a shit about taking it slightly easier with the right foot.
Still, at least it gave the hoards of umbrella sellers a chance to rip off a few victims.
So much for a bank holiday Thursday out and about - we spent half the day sheltering in Leblon shopping with the rest of the young and beautiful trendy masses. If you fancy a really expensive (but rather good) burger and chips I can recommend 'the fifties' diner up on the 4th floor. Cold beer and a what would have been a great view of Christ. The clouds scuppered my gloating photo.
So - I suppose it was only a matter of time before I got the chance to write about the same thing twice - but right here, right now I'm feeling like its about time I put it out there.
Mother's day is not just for mothers. Its for everybody. Its for supermarkets and florists and restaurants and Dads and kids and pets. Difference in Brasil is that, like many celebrations, it comes with a sprinkle more heart on the sleeve.
In a recent beer-fueled verbal ramble with a Brasilian mate, things were getting a somewhat overly philosophical regarding those subtleties of our mother-tongues that go beyond plain words. That's why we have sayings and gestures after all - so that we can communicate with heightened sophistication when emotional gravitas is called for. (and I don´t mean flashing your headlights and indicating with your right hand that the driver in from is inclined to play with himself from time to time).
Anyway. I digress. Our conversation settled for a while on what I reckon might be the most beautiful word of them all. - Saudades. It means to miss. Although when I say that I mean that it means to miss someone (or something) with an inexplicable pang of emotion, the only way to begin to understand, is to have felt yearning so subtle and painful, that words fail to describe it. Every time.
Anyone can have saudades - its not an exclusively pissed up Carioca sentiment. The point is, I suppose that I reckon the Brasilians are the only people who actually have a word to describe what they are.
My little man and his mum will be back from their travels in time for the onslaught of paper roses and cut out love hearts. Right now the dullness in my world and the bubbling excitement in my bones that is stopping me from concentrating might qualify as saudades - I just dunno.
One thing I do know is that losing my Mum 15 years ago, on Dia Das Maes makes me a bit of a miserable bastard around this time of year. But I know the sheer joy she would have felt as she watched her children and grandchildren grow. Now that kind of knowing I reckon might qualify as saudades. Anyway, enough. I'm off for a pint.
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.....
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.
A recent post from fellow bloggers Qualidade de Vida inspired me to let the universe know that we don't have a car either! A year and a bit into our adventure and I don't reckon we'll ever have one either. Driving in Rio is not for the feint hearted and taxis, buses, boats (not to mention the slowly expanding metro*) all ensure that we get from A to B and back again all in one piece.
Once in a while, however, our desire to head for the hills means that we hire a car and take off for the weekend. Its not that we can't do it on the bus (we often do) - its just that sometimes there is no substitute for a ride into the wilderness with nearest and dearest. And once in a while that means splashing out R$550 odd for a 1 litre VW to join the loopy Carioca racetrack.
The hospitality was just what the doctor ordered - three hearty meals a day and ducks quacking their way around the place to the delight of our little man.
One thing that I love about Brazilians in a restaurant is just how seriously they take their food, and just how eloquently they describe every last morsel. Now this means that when something is worth complimenting the whole table can pretty much sing together to the glory of the potatoe. I'm not kidding.
And equally if the punters decide that something needs sending back for a 5th and 6th time, then so be it. I've seen the patience of a hundred waiters unabashed by the most discerning of diners.
Anyhow, Pousada Esmeralda does the trick. Proper hearty mountain food. Somehow a trip into the mountains seems so mean that the tourists need to ignore the fact that its still in the mid 20's and wrap up like they're on some sort of polar expidition. This is a place for fondue and log fires. Honest.
Anyhow - if the hulabuloo is all a bit much and you fancy a trip out, then why not pull on the old hiking boots?
*metro will eventually be so crowded they might need Tokio style 'pushers' to squash the punters in at busy times....
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