Brasiiiiil. Instincts. Very, Very Drunk

Saturday February 3, 2007

In Brazil.

 For those of you that have the misfortune to be in regular contact with me, other than through this blog, you´ll have heard me talk about the bad feelings I´ve had about this trip.  Something that I can´t quite put my finger on has been bothering me about it and I´ve been feeling an undue amount of anxiety.  And I trust my instincts.  Let´s hope then, that the failure of my luggage to arrive on the same plane as me is the extent of my misfortune this trip. 

After arriving, shouting at Iberia for 15 minutes, getting a taxi and remembering that I you can´t withdraw money in Brazilian ATMs after 10pm, I settled for a quiet drink with my friend Nubia, a native carioca who always shows me quite incredible amounts of hospitality (that´s not code for anything in case you´re wondering).  It´s probably a good idea, I said to myself, after getting up at 3.30am and travelling for 16 hours via Spain, to have a tranquil first night.

I woke up at 11.30 the next morning, fully-clothed, lying atop my untouched bed, wondering what the hell happened the night before.  I was so incredibly hungover, and completely without the ability to remember a thing of what had happened the night before, that I was beginning to suspect I´d been drugged/spiked, something which is apparantly not completely unheard of in Rio and which has happened to me (in Spain) before. 

Anyway, struggling to get up, I noticed two opened, but unused, condoms on the floor.  So clearly, whatever I was doing involved at least the aspiration of getting my end away.  Familiar ground, so I now feel much happier about the situation.  Although I do have horrendous images of me at least twice during the night mustering up the energy to unwrap the condoms, and then eventually succumbing to my drunkeness. by collapsing on the bed.  At the time I had no idea who I was with but Nubia eventually filled me at lunch with a stern ´arent you embarrassed?´ expression on her face.

I wasn´t really capable of feeling any human emotion, such was the size of my hangover.  It was all I could do to stand-up and god knows how I left my hotel, my general grottiness contributed to by the fact I didn´t have a change of clothes because my luggage was somewhere over the Atlantic ocean. 

Because I´m very fond of her, I was determined to be on my best behaviour that night and go to a somewhat decent restaurant in Ipanema.  We did that, but to cut a long story short we ended up drinking til 6 with her friends in her apartment in what looked like a Favela in Leme, again waking up at 6am the two of us on a single bed that would normally be just-about a suitable size for my left leg.  The horrible heat of the Brazilian summer, and the lack of air-conditioning in her apartment, made it much worse.  So naturally I felt absolutely horrendous, but at least this time she was equally complicit.

 I´m now in Sao Paulo to meet Otavia and then off to Florianoplis for 4 days.  Will blog again very soon.

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