Ding Ding! School Time!

'Tis the time to think about what to do with the little man in August. He will be entering "big boy school" in early August. And something is calling me back to my retail days.... There is a small voice in the back of my head whispering, "location, location, location".... In a city like Sao Paulo where traffic jams are a regular problem (nothing, mind you, like Bangkok) location is everything. And with a husband like mine who likes to sleep, location matters almost as much as the school. We have whittled our choices to two schools. Option one: A large posh school which happens to educate Mick Jagger's latest offspring. Full of confident well pressed staff and run like the military. Their philosophy is to keep 3 year olds in school, complete with school lunches, until 2:45. Option two: A smaller more friendly school where education philosophy and training children to think for themselves comes first. Where my goodness kids must wait until they are 4 years old to stay past noon. Is my evaluation objective? Probably not. Does it matter? Probably not. Probably the little man will follow his friends. Hi HOOOOOO, hi hoooooo; hi ho, hi ho, it's off to school we go...

And speaking of dietary fixes

Have I mentioned the BBQ restaurants? Another story altogether and altogether unrelated to the relatively innocuous rice and beans. Enter your typical Churrascaria. Salad bar looks good! Nice bread basket. AND THEN... DUH DUH DUUUUUH! It's the unending parade of young nubile men presenting giant skewers and platters of MEAT. Cuts unidentifiable. Strings of chicken hearts (which actually look quite appetising). And to help you find your way, a map. The cow. Even the hump of the cow (strange grey tender chunk of marbled moo). But - oh go no further than the picanha. A semi circle of tender beef edged with the most deliciously roasted fat you ever dreamed of injesting and storing on your hips. A salty, savoury, heart stopping dream. Goodnight!

Ohhh Girls time to shop - OR NOT!

I have found it. The most surreal street in Sao Paulo. Imagine chic boutiques with funky clothes to die for. The latest stuff. Unbelievably low prices. Then add in women. Tons of them milling up and down the street with massive suitcases in tow. Then enter a shop. Draw a breath. The shop is divided in two. One wall with samples and the other with stock. Minimum purchase 12 pieces. Exhale slowly, and walk away. Think about opening a shop one day to realise the dream of buying it all...

Arroz Fejao

Rice and Beans. Italians love their pasta, Americans their burgers, and Asians love their rice - but far more than just rice, here in Brazil they are mad about their rice and beans. Didn't think much of them when I first arrived, but am getting the hang of it now. It's a fix similar to that of chocolate or coke. Go without it for a few days and you start to dream of it. Viscous black beans - garlicky and salty, and fluffy white (not fragrant mind you) rice. But I just can't seem to kick the soy sauce habit. Must be a hangover from Asia.