Settling In

My hostel from Pão de Açúcar

I'm moving in on my third week in Rio. To me, of course, this feels like just the beginning, but I think in terms of international trips, I am expected to have seen and done something interesting by this point. And I have! Don't worry, I'm not sitting on my inadequate-looking butt all day drinking caiparinhas!

In fact, I don't really like these ubiquitous acid drinks that are offered enthusiastically at every bar, tourist or otherwise. I've only even sat on the beach a few times...actually, that's not true. The beach here really does work itself into everything, sand just filling in the cracks of a day. As long as you're in the Zona Sul, you will be looking at the many bays, maybe even dipping your toes in, at some point. But once you venture into Centro, or even more off the beaten track into Zona Norte, Rio's beach culture nearly disappears. On a rickety communter train heading North, I saw some boys dressed in red swim trunks and yellow t-shirts waiting on the platform. I recognized the uniform from a hot day on Impanema, and sure enough, the boys were going home with their silver kegs of the chilled matte that had been so refreshing. So, there are indications of the beach in the North...

The girl from Impanema!

But I have to admit I have been more interested in the night life here than in the beach life. Every night offers various music opportunities...Samba, Samba, Samba, Forro, Samba, Funk, Samba...Rock is pronounced "Hockey" (haha). Obviously, I like the Samba. There, I can just groove my own little way, singing along with the inevitable "La-ya La" chorus. Funk...well, let's just say my years of whining classes in Trinidad help out here, but it's not my first choice!

Practically every night I find myself at a Samba party. My friend Eduardo has been my guide. He seems to go out every night of the week, and every time to somewhere new and interesting. His only distractions from a die-hard nightlife are the Fluminense games that happen all of the time (Rio has a bunch of football teams, some of the best in Brazil, and everyone is beyond obssessed).

The first time we went out, he brought me to a little back street bar in Largo de Marchado, where a tiny band played soft chorinho ("little cry"). Since then, he's brought me to sambas all over town. One on a rock by the port where the first slave market was held in Brazil. A bar in Lapa where we've ended up every Terça Feira (Tuesday), free concerts all over the place. I am the gringa with a huge bottle of water (I cannot get hydtated here!), and every time I offer Eduardo some, he says "Thanks, but I only drink the water that the birds refuse." Get it? Vodka, cachaça...clear alchohol. It took me a while to figure out what he was talking about, I kept insisting that the water was store bought, as "clean" as I could find....anyway, a cute little Brazilianism for you guys.

Cachaça casado no mercado

I bought a pandeiro from my pandeiro teacher, and yesterday another new friend gave me a lesson. We ended up singing all of the Astrud Gilberto songs I've been listening to all of these years, me in English, him in Portugues! The lyrics are quite different, and it was fun to comb through them. Did you know that the Girl from Impenema was not tall and tan and young...well, she was lovely. She was so beautiful, that her beauty was something for everyone to share and enjoy, and this guy was sad that the beauty wasn't for him, but he also recognized that that is the way it is. Just a little different from the way we sing it.

Meu Pandeiro

My roof/the view from my room

I just moved away from the beach, up into the hills of Santa Theresa. I am far away from everything, except for Santa Theresa, which is a little artsy/old money neighborhood, the kind of place where the buildings are crumbling away and the artists are painting them all different colors with spray paint. My place is no acception. It's a family house, with the family still intact, and I think Great-great-grandfather's wastebasket still hasn't been emptied, let alone replaced. It's a mess. I live in the eaves of the roof with the pigeons and their shit. But, I have a great view! After writing this, I will go visit a tiny NGO ("onghee" haha) in the North where I am the new English teacher.

The view from Santa Theresa: a castle and Christo!

Typical graffiti, typical architecture

Beijos!