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Hello All
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| Manson. Biding. Earings not withstanding |
So, a quick catch up before we head off to Camburi (Literally: A hell of a long way to the beach to spend most of your holiday in the rain). 180 km although it being a Sunday, we should have a smooth ride.
So, to back up a little and keep you informed of SP goings on, I think my last e-mail ended on Wednesday.
Thursday went for a very nice lunch in a local "health" restaurant" (ha ha haaaaaaaaaa – it is called a "natural" restaurant because ONE of the trays had soya mince on it otherwise it was the usual sweet tooth fest of sugar, sugared fruit and sugared pastries) with Number Two Mother and TLS. Nevertheless, the food was excellent - as it is almost everywhere I went. I can't remember the last time I had naartjie juice. After lunch, TLS and I cabbed to the optometrist. Appointments, Brazil style, go something like this.
1. Book your appointment some weeks in advance for 15h40
2. Arrive somewhere between 15h30 and 16h00, maybe later if the mood takes you
3. Find four people waiting to be seen ahead of you.
4. Go to receptionist who cannot find your appointment.
5. Be seen sometime that afternoon
After the test, we went to meet Papimoxa, aka Number Two Father, aka Papivara because of his ability to eat entire lengths of bamboo without pause.
He has an office in Bom Retiro where they used to live and goes through for afternoons where he has an accounting practice. This used to be a predominantly Jewish neighbourhood, but is now occupied almost exclusively by Koreans and gringo bloggers. We stopped at his local coffee shop before catching a taxi home. Most taxi drivers in SP used to work for the Japanese air force in their one-way flight department. Managed to make it back to the flat and threw myself out of the car and kissed the ground in thanks before losing a foot to a passing taxi driver. On the pavement!
Got back to the flat to find that Charles Manso... Phoebe had eaten 50 Reals which she found on Number Two Mother’s bed. We were all too afraid to punish her.
Had a very early supper before going to the shopping centre to buy tickets for Black Swan. We were told the previous day that if you paid for your tickets on Amex, they were half price as part of a promotion. As is the case with everything sales-related in Brazil, this was only half the story. The other half went something like this: only one person buying the ticket on an Amex card gets the discount, not all the tickets purchased and then only if your Amex card is from Bradesco, a local bank and then only if your surname is Da Silva and you were born on a Thursday. We paid full price.
The movie was annoying – it was like watching a movie in England. One chap sending a text message and each time he pressed a key, his phone beeped and would then take his phone out every ten minutes to check it for a reply and the light would catch your eye. Two ladies behind us would talk every time there was no dialogue and a granny on the opposite side of the aisle would fight with her grandkids about taking them home every time there was a sex scene. I don’t know how the kids got in as it was a 16 age restriction film. At the end of it I said to TLS we had to leave quickly before I killed someone.
Friday morning I had a lie in while TLS went shopping. After that we walked up the hill to Praça Villa Boheme. Or so I thought; it is actually Praça Villa Bum according to the signs. Pronunciation is not easy here. Fortunately I heard TLS say the name before reading it otherwise it would have been embarrassing telling the parents where we were going.
This is a lovely little strip of shops and restaurants – all very expensive – where all the mommies what lunch visit when they have picked up the kids from school. We stopped at what is the best fresh fruit juice shop in Sao Paulo according to Vejinha magazine (Literally: Little vagina magazine) special edition on Comidas e Bibidas. I had a fresh tangerine drink (the waiter kindly brought a tray full of sugar and sweetener – fresh fruit juice Brazilian style. God forbid you should enjoy something healthy without sugar) and TLS had an Açai which is a berry that tastes of (and looks like) earth but in sorbet form. I could not quite make up my mind if I liked it or if I wanted to rinse my mouth out afterwards.
Then we popped across the road to FAAP (Foundation Armando Alvares Penteado) which is a university with a museum in it to look at some Brazilian art. I asked TLS to ask the security guard if we could take photos and he said no so I asked her to ask if I could go for a ride on his Segway instead. He said no and then kept a strict eye on us for the duration of our visit.
We then went to Kopenhagen for coffee; this is one of the oldest chocolatiers in Sao Paulo – and one of the most expensive. They had a 5 kg Easter egg in the window for R$860 which is roughly £330. We promised them a life of servitude and gave them all our money to pay for two espressos.
On the way back it started to pour, tropical storm style, so we had to stop in at one of the restaurants to re-mortgage and buy two beers until the rain stopped.
Made it back in time to have a quick shower before dinner. Number Two Mother’s cousins came and brought us diet chocolates. I asked if they thought I was fat. Husband Jacques (pronounces Jacque-ease), his wife Thelma (pronounced Telma like the soup) and their son Daniel (pronounced Daniel).
P was there and Foffi arrived late after playing clarinet in the local shul band. They play a mix of classical Jewish songs and blues – the band is called Bad Luck and Tsorris. Apparently his orchestra is going to be playing at a Sepulcher concert. In case you don’t know them, they are a very dark, heavy metal band. T was supposed to come but it rained and after an hour and a half in the traffic, she called it a day and went home. Very nice evening of cold cuts and salads and we even found a bottle of Frangelico in the cupboard to have with coffee.
No one I have spoken to has managed to explain why traffic backs up / stops every time it rains.
Saturday we left 45 minutes late (early if you are Brazilian) and I drove to meet TLS’s friend D and her husband C and their two children before going to a local churrascaria, a meat feast carvery where the waiters arrive with meat on swords and cut off slices onto your plate.
We started off with sushi (apparently a popular starter in Brazilian steak houses) and salads and chips and pies and pastels and cheese and prawns and risotto and beans and bean soup before hitting the meat. Ate until a standstill and then we left for the local “Shopping Bourbon” for coffee. All shopping centres are called “Shopping Something” and usually named after places or the local neighbourhood such as Shopping Higienopolis, Shopping Morumbi, Shopping Santa Cruz or Shopping Iguatami although possibly the latter was named after how the local women wear their trousers?
Shopping Bourbon was, quite frankly, terrifying. To get into the car park, you have to drive up what looks like an external fire escape staircase alongside the shopping centre and which has to be at least ten stories high before entering the main building. Honestly, I would not chance this with Betti driving. We went to Havana, oddly, an Argentinean shop for coffee where C had a giant slice of cake with a centimetre thick layer of marshmallow on top. He says he was taking it easy as he is also watching his sugar levels. Havana was set up to sell a traditional Argie type of biscuit (Alfajor) but, being in Brazil, they were obliged to add coffee and sugared sugar to their menu.
Health and Safety. Brazil Style. Actually, not worth writing about - it doesn't exist. People just ignored the fire alarms and continued shopping and using the elevators. Moving on...
Saturday we went to pizzas with the girls. TLS’s friends L, Renee (pronounced Henneh, who we are planning to marry off to Tony, and for the record, I was not drunk on caiparinhas), Bettina (pronounced Bechina) and V who does talk quite a bit. Breathe in, talk out; she became increasingly desperate to finish her story before we dropped her off after dinner and volume and speed increased until my hearing range and basic Portuguese proved to be insufficient to follow her.
We ate at Pizza Camelo, not to be confused with Pizza Dromedaria around the corner which has only got one hump. Brazilians have a strange way of eating pizza that would not suit South Africans, particularly if you are Jewish (you cannot make your own or add or change ingredients - anathema) and does not really suit me (you have to share.) People order largish pizzas which the waiter brings to your table, serves each person a slice and then takes the pizza away until you are ready for your second slice. How long can it take to eat a slice of pizza? This does not sound like an efficient use of staff time. I am not sure why this way of eating has developed. What one can be sure about is that the pizza is going to have a LOT of cheese.
Just like Eskimos have 30 different words for snow, Brazilians have 300 different words for cheese however the words "speed limit" don't exist in Portuguese.
Apparently Brazilians are prone to colour blindness. This can be the only reason why we drove past a block of flats called Casa Verdi, which was painted red.
And now we are off to the beach so TTFN and (for a nominal fee) I will send you The Brazil Chronicles Vol III when we get back.
Fat Al
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