Crusty Bread

The phenomena of the Paderia. It rates up there with the top 10 reasons why I never want to leave. Imagine a Sunday morning stroll down to your local bakery. Not Starbucks or any other franchised, overpriced, monster. Just the local folks who love a good coffee and fresh baked goods. More specifically fresh bread. Crusty, crunchy, buttery, grilled or garnished with fried cheese and ham, or just plain. The jargon is easy to learn: Pao de Chapa (bread buttered then grilled) and Media (cross between cappucino and cafe au lait). It's a little bit of paradise in a cheerful friendly environment where the staff are always in good humour and the prices are always low.

Wax

Just when you thought they couldn't rip any more hair off your loins, they always find another spot where a spare hair lurks. I guess you can tie this blog in with the whole clean obsession meditation. There is no easier way to keep your nether regions spotlessly clean then to remove every tiny little stray hair that ever tried to grow there. And Brazilians are obsessed with clean & tidy. The first time I visited my lovely lady down at the Cabeleileiros (hair dresser), she asked me to disrobe, took a good look at me, and sighed: "Americans". Proudly did away with what I thought was a great deal of untidiness, and then said that she would do a proper job the next time I came in. "Don't you feel CLEANER?" she said. I just felt naked. Pre-adolescent, almost. But the next time she had the wax on before I even knew where she was putting it - and oh darling, just turn over now - it will be so much more hytgenic this way. Now I know how a gay man feels. I'm just going to leave it at that. So going Brazilian is interesting - an experience for sure. But an addiction? Time will tell. All I know is that for the time being, there is a lovely lady waiting for me with a hot pot of wax every month and a big knowing smile on her face.

We've GOT to be Clean

Wash, wash, wash your shoes, wash your dirty shoes! Round and round, up and down! Wash your dirty shoes! The Brazilians are OBSESSED with keeping things clean. Not just your everyday have a shower change your underwear and tidy up. I mean clean. Never in my life have I had my shoes hosed down on a daily basis. My leather fashion flip flops have kicked the bucket after 3 months. My running shoes are coming apart where the rubber meets the leather. And it's starting to rub off on me. I find myself thinking: "Is one shower a day enough?" Should I have the carpets washed once a month? Why is there a leaf on the driveway? What is that soil doing on the bottom of my son's sneakers? Did I wash my hands in the public sinks at the food court thoroughly enough? And really - do I have any residual body oils lingering on my skin? I mean - the Thais have good reason to shower 2-3 times a day. It's hot there. But showering multiple times daily here is a bit of a national obsession or a tradition of sorts. So, I shall evaluate my home & body hygiene and take a close look at my habits three years from now; look back on this blog, and wonder if I have truely crossed over to the other side of clean.

Football Lust

Well - I thought the English had the world topped for football craziness, but I think the Brazilians have got them beat as of today. We are nearing the end of the Brazilian football season here, and the underdogs (the Corinthians) have pretty much got it in the bag. Now football is a political sport in Brazil. Something a little different from the UK. In the UK, if you're posh, you play rugby or polo. Football is definitely for the masses. But here in Brazil they ALL get involved. From the directors of multinational corporations right down to the street kids. What team you support means everything. The Corinthians are for the people. Their supporters travel the country to cheer them on and dance through the games. They are passionate, obsessive, and manic team supporters. The descendants of the Italian immigrants to Brazil have their own team (Palmeiras ?) and the upper well educated classes are wont to support a team called Sao Paulo. There is no better pleasure than walking into a cocktail or office full of up-themselves Brazilians and letting your preference for a team called Corinthians be heard loud and clear. And the best way to do it is through an innocent. Jasper is now a proud supporter of both Liverpool (Red is for Liverpool) and the Corinthians (Black and white is for Corinthians!). Amen!

I love babas

Just back from our third Birthday party in Brazil. This time a Brazilian married to a Swiss New Yorker. But essentially it was a Brazilian party. Who was there to talk to? Why, the babas of course. Dressed head to toe in white. Enjoying the spread of food and endless cups of coke, and generally trying to get the most out of their life of minding rich (or relatively rich) people's children. Let's see: Well today one was smacked by her charge, another dragged around and dressed up, and yet another sitting lonely on a bench while her little lady ran around making a mess which she would probably have to help clean up later. They're generally nice people, with a story to tell. And somehow more accessible to me than the lean ladies who lunch swanning around with glasses of wine in their hands. Perhaps it is me - reverse snobbery as my father calls it - or perhaps it's a cultural or language boundary. But for now, I love babas. They are warm, friendly, and generally kind people who often have a smile and a nice word for you when you feel hopelessly lost (and fat) amongst the Brazilian mob.

Uncoordinated feet..

Well it's been six months with my feet on the ground here in Sao Paulo, and my feet still feel like two blocks of lead.
Even the most obese, ungainly, seemingly motionless Brazilian seems to be able to dance Samba without having to think about it. It must be something which has to be learned from birth. Large boisterous parties which carry on late into the night here often include kids. They pick it up. It's there....
Well - I'm getting there. Probably will have the knack of it by the time it's time to move on. Just can't keep away from the music here though. Young kids, who in other countries would be forming alternative rock bands and creating unbearable noise here sit down with their friends and improvise classic Sambas, or elaborate with Pagode, Samba Rock, or other interesting spin-offs. It is a pleasure to witness. But the dancing.... ah.. perhaps I should have paid more attention in aerobics classes 10 years ago.