When it rains....

Corpus Christi 2012



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.

Dia Das Maes 2012, Chega de Saudades

Mum's the word...

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.
  

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?

Itatiaia! (again)

We don't have a car either!

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.

This time we visited Hotel Pousada Esmeralda - a few hours drive out of town and a few kilometres from the entrance to the Itatiaia National Park.

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....

Getting Mugged In Rio

Oi - Get off my nuts......

I´ve travelled a fair bit. Any number of time-killing Facebook surveys will concur. I know what's risky and what's plain daft. Truth is the most significant skirmishes of my life have been back in my green and pleasant land. And both were neither green nor pleasant.

Anyhow, crime in Rio is a worry. And even though there is no doubt in my mind that it feels safer here now than it did when I visited in 1998, I can say, once again from shitty bitter experience that it pays to be careful out there.

A few weeks ago some fella in Lapa offered to throw his remaining booze away if I gave him some money for food. This quickly escalated into 'I have a big knife if you want to do this another way etc etc. The street was really crowded and for once in my boozy life I was totally sober. He kindly told the police in a passing car that I was just a gringo who was making a scene. They promptly disappeared. Nice. I ran off and jumped in a cab - although it did take some argey bargey to wrestle him away from the door. I cancelled my plans to go for a beer and just went home instead.

So. All in all no big deal. Except everyone I tell (especially the cariocas) say I should have handed over my stuff. Hmmm. Next time I will.

And that's precisely the problem. Next time. I'm now an overly cautious big tall gringo who has properly damaged his mojo. I know the chances of getting mugged are slim if you are careful, but now I feel that they´re just not slim enough. I really hope its not too long before I can wander beyone my cosy Copacabana local without feeling like somebody wants to have it away with my meagre pocketful. Yesterday somebody stopped and asked me directions to the metro. As I pointed up the road, I´d already worked out that if it was going to be a toss-up between giving him my wallet and trying to punch his lights out, then the wallet was definitely going to have to go.

Ok - not that it needs saying, but heres a few security ideas you might like to try out:

1. Try not to be on your own for too long-  if you don´t end up robbed, paranoia might drive you to distraction (or maybe that´s just me)
2. If you are on your own, then try not to be plastered.
3. Don´t carry loads of cash - but always have at least R$20 as a muggers consellation prize.
4. Don´t be a posey bastard, talking loudly in English  on a posh ´mug me´mobile phone while reading a half folded map. That would just be ridiculous.
5. If in doubt, don´t walk - get a bus.
6. If in doubt about about the bus, get a cab - even though they´re getting pricey, a ride accross town won´t leave you destitute.
7. If the worst happens and someone want´s your belongings, just hand them over.
8. Don´t show the entire bus the contents of your wallet when you bay the bus conductor.
9. Keep a copy of your id and card numbers at home.
10. If you happen to be of the big tall gringo persuasion, don´t assume your´re ever going to blend into the crowd.
11. Don´t wear a collection of jewellery only Mr. T could compete with. Better still, don´t wear any.
12. Don´t frolic on the beach after dark. That one´s a classic.
13. Don´t hang out in the 40th floor Bar at the Othon Palace watching frolickers get mugged. Thats just mean.
14. Put your wallet in your front pocket.

I reckon there may well be more. - Any ideas?

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)