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?

Roll out the Barra...

Or more accurately pronounced "bah-ha".....

Twice a week, my commute is out of Zona Sul and off to Barra da Tijuca. Ask people about it! One thing for sure is that you'll be answered with quite a strong opinion. As I see it, the general trend seems to be that Barra is the preferred choice for the folks that live there, and everybody else thinks they're welcome to it.

So what made them move there in the first place? Maybe the lure of cheaper rents for more square metres, maybe the chance to bring kids up in safer, gated condominiums where they can ride their bikes without the certain-death traffic. Maybe the huge swanky shopping malls offering mile upon mile of the latest chiq. Or maybe they wanted to relax on 14 or so kilometres of stunning unspoilt beach.

Or maybe they just wanted to live next to an 8 lane motorway where the death defying tunnel ridden bus ride back into town takes anything from 40 mins to 2 1/2 hours.

Well, there's food for thought anyhow.

Party Like You've never been two before....

Our little fella spends Monday to Friday at a local Creche, and as he and his toddling buddies approach the rip old age of two, we get the odd invite here and there. If we can go, we do. I honestly reckon that these events are reason enough to have kids. I really hope everyone gets to one sometime.

We just got home from one such occasion in the Sala de Festas at a building just around the corner. There were  good  handful of twoish kids along with assorted parents and family (older siblings, cousins and their mates) and their parents. A few waiters serving kids stuff and grown up stuff and a team of children's entertainers doing what they do. Don't forget the popcorn man and the woman looking after the trampoline.  Apart from them, it was pretty chilled out.

As far as our man went, the event ran from just before bedtime to head banging the fixtures and fittings in bewildered exhaustion. He had the time of his life. He bounced and hula-hooped and ate sugar for over 2 hours. What a fella. I got the beers in again. It really came as no surprise that the cold stuff was never more than a heartbeat away.

It was truly special to be part of this lovely celebration. Brazilians do so many things well, but the way they celebrate their kids probably tops the lot. Right, more beer before I get all loved up and over emotional.