Archive for the 'partying' Category

I Knew Her When Her Breath Used to Stink

Monday February 12, 2007

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.



Tuesday February 6, 2007

Back in Rio for the last few days of the trip.

I’ve just settled-in after a 6 hour coach journey from Sao Paulo.  In general Sao Paulo isn’t that interesting, it’s too modern, industrial, expensive and spread-out to be anything special for a tourist.  The only thing that can make it worthwhile is if you have a host as good as O was.  She was just fab in showing me round a city that is pretty difficult to get to grips with for a tourist.

Sunday we went to a very expensive Churrascaria on Ave Paulista, SP’s main drag if it has one.  Churrascaria’s are great, but from my experience the meat they serve is always the same: excellent, so you should generally find the cheapest one that you feel comfortable in coz anything more expensive will be a waste of money.

After the meal a first for me, Brazilian country and western, called Sertanejo.  Again, an interminable drive somewhere in a taxi, to a place with a familiar C & W feel, half-empty, but all of those inside dancing something a bit like how a Brazilian might dance to C&W, a peculiar combination that in the end looks a bit like salsa.  The Spanish speaking countries in South America have a thing about how the Brazilians can’t dance salsa, I can’t tell the difference.

The story about the missing Miss Brazil has been hitting the news over here in the past few days.  She was awarded the crown after the original Miss Brazil had to give it up because she participated in Brazil’s version of Big Brother called, wait for it, ‘Big Brother’, so she was already kinda famous in that ‘oh yeah, i remember her’ kinda way.   Consensus: she’s a garota de programa.

If ever you take a long road journey at night you’ll be stunned by how many love motels there are.  In the hour before arriving in SP last Friday there must have been, literally, 100.  My favourite name: ‘Nobs’.

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.


Tuesday January 2, 2007

Was expecting to be out of the country over Xmas, but had to change plans at the last minute. Instead, I:

  • Went to Guanabara, a Brazilian club. Predictably, the waitresses were all Brazilian and all hot-hot-hot (‘Oi gatinha, tudo bem?’ was something I was too sober to say, but desperately wanted to).
  • Saw London to Brighton. Enjoyed it a lot. Felt like I was seeing a real film with real actors for the first-time in ages.
  • Saw Flags of Our Fathers by Clint Eastwood. It’s great that an 80-year old man still has an appetite for re-inventing genres. This isn’t quite that, but it’s at least an attempt at giving a new perspective to a well-trodden subject. My appetite for re-inventing genres was beaten out of me at the age of 8 when I suggested to my family that perhaps we shouldn’t watch The Great Escape again this Christmas and that perhaps it was time for an update of this tired old genre flick. Never again.
  • Took a friend’s child (with permission this time, I’m not making that mistake twice) to see the re-issued Wizard of Oz. Although I’ve seen WOZ several times at the cinema before (sad, I know) this was the first-time with a child. I’d like to say that this time I saw it through a childs-eye and that I re-discovered the sense of awe and amazement as I had when I saw the movie for the very first time, but truth be told I’ve never actually ever tired of this movie.  Unfortunately I was probably slightly embarrassing to the 3 year old sat next to me as he bolted for the door when I burst into ‘Ding dong the witch is dead’. He was supposed to reply ‘Which old witch?’ and then I’d say ‘The wicked witch!’ but we never quite pulled it off.

Got a business trip to Latvia next week.

A Step Change

Thursday July 20, 2006

My birthday tomorrow. 35 and thoroughly depressed by the whole affair. This cheered me up though. And this.

Last weekend saw a significant step forward in my progression as a human being. On Saturday afternoon, at 12pm I took sole responsibility for a little human being, with a 24 hour commitment and no get-out clauses. We went to the Aquariam, where I spent all of my time worrying about her drowning, then went to the see ‘Over the Hedge’ where I spent my time worrying about her choking from all the popcorn she was stuffing down her face. At about 8pm she was absolutely knackered, but pretty pleased that she’d managed to eat nothing more nutritious than popcorn, pizza and a sausage roll all day. I handed her back to her mother the next day, all 3 of us secretly thinking ‘that was a close shave’.

Tonight will be the fourth consecutive night of drinking. To counter this I plan to spend the weekend at the home of a recovering alcoholic.

How My Life Used To Be

Wednesday July 19, 2006

Reading Shaky Kaiser’s account of a weekend in Macau. Damn I miss that.

Very busy social calendar this week for the first time in ages. Like it, but the drinking is getting to me.