My last night in Rio was spent again with N in a samba club I´ve been to before and still can´t remember the name of. Whilst there, I saw this girl I knew from my very first trip to Brazil 2 years ago. She is a lovely Brazilian-Lebanese smoothie and as tasty as it sounds, only a little bit nuts. So nuts, in fact, that she qualified as one of only two stalkers I´ve had in my life (the other one was Arabic too funnily enough). The last time she spoke she was housekeeping in France and then Italy after her father died in a car accident in Rio 18 months ago.
Anyway, when I saw her the other night she looked quite simply stunning. She´d lost weight (and she was never fat) and just looked brilliant…..a definite 9 and I wouldn´t be surprised if she was modelling now. Unfortunately she was with some rich looking Italian guy, probably her husband, so I couldn´t be overly forward in approaching her, plus I was with N, so I thought I´d just position myself near her and wait for us to bump into each other. After about, erm, say, 2 hours of this I finally gave-up. I couldn´t remember her name anyway, plus I remember that her breath was a bit stinky. She looked so much better now, I´d be suprised if her shit stank.
I´m writing this from an internet cafe in Madrid airport, my Madrid-London flight delayed by an hour. I´m in such a foul mood. I get these post holiday depressions that I wonder if it´s worth going on holiday in the first place. If you factor in the pre-departure and post-arrival stress at work, plus the cost, it probably isn´t.