Jaws

It's a festival of training at work at the mo. And we know what that means. Fancy lunches. Today I nipped up to the 8th floor and took a photo. If you look carefully you can see the sugar loaf cable car station. Pretty tempted to nick off early and see if I can relive that moonraker moment. On the other hand, there is a magnificent hostelry at the bottom. I might just hole up there and do the blooming obvious.




whoops, there it is. Really should get back to it.


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Lapa it up...

Ok - not been there yet - and with no babysitter in sight it may be a while - it seems that Lapa is the place to be if you're a bright young party animal.

Don't be put off though - apparently being a bright young party animal has very little to do with your age. You just have to act like you're young enough to not have a care in the world.

Nifty website too... have a look    http://www.lanalapa.com.br/

My ´Hood (or part of it at least)

If you're from Rio, you're called a Carioca - It's nice to have a label. If you're like me, you're a gringo. Plain and simple - although it seems that its not as derogatory as it sounds. I actually get the feeling that it's an endearing term reserved for us poor lost foreigners. To be honest, I reckon I'm offered more than my share of goodwill and patience.

I know I bang on about bus drivers, but get this. I reckon the dirty great beasts of the road have been responsible for all of my near-death experiences in Rio so far. That said, not only are these guys prepared to splatter me in order to get where they're going, they are also prepared to screech (and I mean tyremarks) to a halt 500 metres after the bus stop just because I was too dozy to remember to alight. (hmm... where do you get off etc etc...)

So, pretty quickly, I feel a part of the mayhem, rather than a camera toting holiday maker (or one of those gap year types from the mosquito factory at the bottom of the road (I'm only jealous - more about them later)

Incidentally - here's where we live. Slap bang in Copacabana. Before we made the move I explored via the power of google, and the one thing I just can't communicate here is the noise! - I love noise in my life, but this is pretty close to the limit. Needless to say if I wanted to stroll down the street banging two bin lids together, chances are nobody would notice.

View Larger Map

Now - if you are ever passing by, the petrol station at the bottom of the street has an amazing bakery. Just saying.

Right - Cariocas love babies. Our little man is the subject of more cooing than a packet of hobnobs in trafalgar square. I'm not kidding - a simple excursion to the petrol station to buy a couple of rolls may well include a good five minutes of fascinated cheek-squeezing (his, not mine). He currently attends a local nursery - Passo a Passo - just around the corner next to yet another backpackers retreat ('mellow yellow' for crying out loud).  Whilst I wouldn't put it past some of the more unscrupulous cariocas to rob you in broad daylight, the buggies outside nursery remain untouched - maybe even robbing bastards won't nick off babies.

Anyway - to look at a video of his nursery, where even one year olds turn up in uniform and get a school report (he did especially well in science the other day!) - have a look here http://g1.globo.com/videos/jornal-da-globo/v/materiais-escolares-deverao-ter-selo-de-qualidade-e-seguranca/1404105/

Tomorrow dawns the arrival of our first UK guest. Yep - my old man has packed his speedos and he boards the plane this afternoon. Hope he likes our place, and the noise, and the busses. Crikey, best do what I do best and have a very careful think about which bar to hit first......

The Day The Fog Lifted

....aka 'The Day We Realised that having the CPF number merely heralded the beginning of the second wave of bureaucratic shenanigans....

What a stunner....

Well, no sooner than you could say Jack Robinson, I became a full-on tax paying, stoppages incurring, fee inducing, mobile phoning record breaker!! - No kidding - all that was missing was Norris  Mcwhirter to jump out from behind a bush and declare that I was infact latest champion in the battle to acquire the most pissing paperwork in the shortest possible time. Cue the trumpet player - dedication's what you need!

Heh, if Carlsberg did world records.... they'd be in Brazil
http://minhasartesrubensparizio.blogspot.com/2010/06/bikini-world-record-cosmo-foto-praia.html

Would I give it all up and go back? Nah... lets face it - they're going to catch up with us all sooner or later, and to be honest, I'd rather go legit before a not wholly unlikely trip to casualty for the dive-bombing toddler costs us large.

Ok, part of going legit has been our health plan coming online too, and we now have a tome rather like the monstrosities I bought to compliment my university education, and forgot to ever open. To be honest it wasn't really the kind of education you'd be inclined to compliment.

The tome is like a phonebook of where we may or may not go should we require a man or woman in a white coat. Our plan is round about middle order - not too posh and not too shabby. At least I wont have to change my kecks if I'm ever admitted.

and...... watch this space 'cause I have a mobile again! So I'm going to and try an regail the virtual world with up to date pictures of my thrilling life. Surprisingly enough, its not proving that simple, so here's hoping that I manage to communicate with the operator somehow before I chuck my phone in the sea and just get pissed instead.

Incidentally - do text me if you want. I'm sure it will cost a fortune. +55 21 9993969

CPF Ahoy - The Man from Polícia Federal - he say yeah!

I'm pretty sure it wasn't one of these guys that blew up the rubber glove...

In fact the nice man from Policia Federal blew up a rubber glove and tied it in a knot in order to calm our little man down and persuade him to give his thumbprint!  Quite funny really - Reckon if i'd made the same fuss we'd have been standing in line at the check-in desk for the next one way flight to London.

Anyway - I think our immigration process is drawing to a close. Today we went back to the airport where no less then three (3!) people were on hand to guide us through the process of presenting our visas to the powers that be in order to become part of the (temporary) roll call. I can't help feeling that all these lovely helpers were on call simply to prevent any smart-arsed comment or incident of inappropriate huffing and/or puffing from pissing anybody off. I'm sure one or two folk have, on occasion, fallen victim of the temptation to make known their feelings about the sheer magnitude of this colossal work of bureaucratic art.

My advice - should you ever need to achieve your residency status in Brazil - Just behave yourself at all costs. I 'm sure the bloke that blew up the rubber glove to the ensuing delight of our one-year-old was quite capable of arranging alternative hospitality if he needed to.

And I'm positive it wasn't him

All this said - it went rather well. We now each have our temporary Brazil ID documents (protocols) which I'm sure will help to postpone the apocalypse, should it be due anytime soon. We headed into town where I completed a medical. Quite a simple process (no coughing or anything, if you know what I mean) - I passed. Must admit it feels wonderful to be a model of health.

And on we go...... Tomorrow (fanfare, drum roll, dancing girls please) we go and pick up our CPF numbers. And then heaven knows what's going to happen. Our official existence in this fair tropical paradise will be official. Shits and giggles ahead, no doubt!

Back to school (for the 3rd time...)

Ahhh.. The school bus. Mind you, if you caught one of these at least there would be a sporting chance of not making it!

I've heard it said that teachers make the worst students. Spot on. I'm now three hours into my Portuguese for idiot musicians course, and I have to say its going to take some time before I go native.

My benevolent employer pays for me to undergo this weekly humiliation, in the hope that someday I might just be able to stand on my own two feet without needing to cry for help before I do so much as pick up the phone. My students are immaculately bilingual. My Brazilian colleagues switch from one language to the next as easily as a crazy bus driver changes lanes in rush hour. It is most definitely time to step it up.

So my post-carnival resolution is to make a daily effort with it. I've got an app - I've got the program that encourages you to talk to the laptop like a senseless div. I've got a teacher! - And most of all I've got anyone in this fair city that wants to give me the time of day (not that i'd have a bloody clue what they were giving me if they did).

The first lesson was a hoot. Armed with the address an little more than than the ability to order beer after beer, I headed to Ipanema where my rendezvous was to be said tutor's 5th floor apartment. Now, Ipanema is a touch more swanky than where we live, so my reckoning was that this teacher must me doing something right.

Problem no 1. I get as far as the intercom entry and totally fail to communicate with the gate keeper. He hangs up on my shitness at least 3 times before coming out of the building to tell me to piss of in person. I resorted to pen and paper - he went to phone my guru, and in a flash it was all sweetness and light again. He showed me to the lift and, to coin M People, I was movin' on up.

And the doors opened. And my life changed. I was invited in (in Portuguese), asked to take a seat (in Portuguese) and talked at (in Portuguese) for the remaining hour or so. The only thing the whole experience was lacking was a really bright light shining in my eyes and a big meathead in the background stepping forward from time to time to punch me in the face.

You know what? I kinda liked it. I now know how to name most of the items in my school bag.

I might give it a week or two before I join the local debating society.

Yes, there is homework. And yes, I do it. In the pub, 10 minutes before its due. I really should have a word with myself. Somethings really ought to change.

Tchau for now.

Peggy Lee ain`t got nothing on this....

never know how much I love you....

Yesterday the Dengue sprayer came around. Everything in Copacabana less than 4 metres tall has been liberally doused. I bloody hope it does the trick - here`s why.

This is Dengue season, and unlike carnival fever, were people generally lose control of their senses and doss around with festive abandon, Dengue Fever is a nasty bug transmitted by mosquitos and it can really do you in.

The mosquito in question lays its eggs in stagnant water (so best avoid bathing in mucky puddles for a while) - and likes to feed off people and not animals (so there is little point sending your pooch out as a decoy). Symptoms are pretty nasty, and at worst can be life threatening. Kids should be sleeping under mosquito nets at the moment `cause they like to feed on them first. Nice.

I remember with love our annual trip through France. I remember falling in rivers and climbing up trees. I remember waking up covered in a fresh collection of lumpy bites from the latest tent invading nasties. I certainly do not remember being held to ransome by an orrible mosquito, bent on giving me a really nasty dose for a week or two. Welcome to Brazil, I `spose.

On the bright side - nobody seems to be that stressed about it. It seems that what ever happens, we`re going to live.

Anyhow, if you happen to see a pissed-up mosquito flying along beachfront in copa - just swat it. Its probably the one that just bit me.