It's mid-afternoon on Leme Beach, the bronze Carioca woman next to me is rummaging through her shoulder bag. A moment later she produces a large circular hand-held mirror. When she stands up she begins angling the mirror around her back side. With head craned backwards she begins inspecting the tan lines under the piece of dental floss that is her bikini bottom. Subsequently a look of smug satisfaction appears on her face and she proceeds to lay back down on her towel. 'Note to self' I think, 'now I have seen it all.' Ah Rio. I am reminded of that old adage that "a bad day at the beach is still better than a good day at work."
After nearly a week of sun, surf and samba I think I have turned into a gelatinous blob. I am trying to account for my time and having trouble doing so. I rented an apartment for the week a block from the beach just between Leme and Copacabana. The stand up juice bars that occupy the corners everywhere in the city are a good place to begin the day. Since my command of the Portuguese language ranks up there with my command of Swahili I have resorted to the "point, order and pray" method of consumerism. Fortunately for me everything is good. The juices are a real treat though. My personal favorites include:
The maracuja(passion fruit), caju(cashew fruit), açaí(a purple Amazon berry), caldo de cana which is sugar cane juice where they put fresh stalks into a hopper to extract the juice or a vitaminia(fruit, milk an crushed ice.) They are all equally delicious.
The Salgudos(salty snacks) are the perfect accompaniment. Pastel de carne/queijo which is a large square deep fried pasty - very light and airy filled with shredded beef or chicken and cheese. The cheese is Catupiry cheese which has the texture and consistency of cream cheese. Bolinho de aipim - fried yucca and ground meat, Coxinha which is a tear-drop shaped pastry filled with shredded chicken. Kibe - Which is Carne with Tabuli and Mint. Not a bad one in the bunch.
Saturday night I was invited to a Feijoada party in Jardim Botânico. As always if you are fortunate enough to be invited to someone's home for dinner you accept. Feijoada is the national dish in Brazil and is traditionally eaten on Saturdays. It has it's roots in the slave days when the slave owners would give the scraps of pork (knuckles, ears, tongue etc.) that were left over at the end of the week to the slaves. It is somewhat similar to Jumbalaya. Pork and black beans seasoned with garlic, onion and salt are slowly stewed for most of the day producing a very rich sauce. This is served with rice, a Brazilian type of cous-cous called farofa (manioc flour), and couve (kale), as well as pieces of freshly-cut orange slices and washed down with a cold chopp(beer.)It is safe to say that nobody leaves the table feeling hungry. The party itself was good, there was a varied mix of Caricoas - artists, professionals and fashionistas and of course the odd solo traveler. I would venture to say that nearly half spoke English as well which seems to be a characteristic of the middle class here. After that it was off to Leme to a house party where people generously shared their favorite places to visit in the North of the country.
Yesterday laying on the beach I experienced a pang of guilt for not yet having done more of the touristy things. I had ridden the Bonde to Santa Teresea and explored Centro but little else. With a sense of duty I packed up from the beach and jumped into a taxi to go up to Corcovado which is the mountain with the statue of Christo Redentor that peers ominously down on you from everywhere in the city. Ten minutes into the cab ride we are in Botofogo by the marina in grid lock traffic. As I sat feeling that my plans for seeing a sunset high above Rio were dissipating like exhaust fumes I heard a long whistle blow. Then it began, the propulsive thunder of the bateria which is the percussion section of the samba troupe. To the right along the promenade of the marina was a samba school in full rehearsal. I paid my fare and leaped out of the taxi and headed towards the fun. The percussion section was well over a hundred men and women deep, the surdos, the tarols, the Cuícas and the Pandeiros are all weaving a fabric and working everyone up into a lather. This is bliss. Momentarily the flag bearer starts waving the schools flag and the Baianas begin strutting well polished samba steps, the choreography seemed well set. From atop a truck the stringed instruments and singers begin the schools anthem and everybody sings along. For the next hour and twenty minutes they march around the beach of the marina deftly working through their routines. The energy level only heads in one direction and that is up. This is an impromptu parade for most people and the few hundred that are flanking the left and right move along in unison, including the drink vendors on their bikes. At this point in the year the school seems to be operating like a well oiled machine, everyone knows their parts and nobody appears to be going through the motions. It is ready for public consumption. It is now dark and I walk back through the tunnel to Leme with their theme song etched firmly in my head. That Art Deco Christ statue will have to wait another day. In the words of the late Kurt Vonnegut Jr. - "and so it goes."
PS
Congrats to Cristina Kirchner on her election and becoming the first first lady to win the presidency. Now maybe they can take all of those digitally enhanced MTV style posters of her hanging up of her in Buenos Aires down? Kidding of course but I do imagine Nestor might be giving Bill a call this time next year to advise him of the nuances of being a first man.
Anyway some random pics can be found HERE
Tchau
Cliff
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