Brazil does like a good party...

Even the kids parades are brilliant.

I was lucky enough to be invited to a puppet festival with G and the family in a beautiful town called Mariana which is like a light version of Ouro Preto (a much smaller quieter colonial town about 10 miles away).

The day was centered around kids who tend to be more interested in puppets than adults although I think that is a myth, unless you count a puppet show in Portuguese which isn't so enjoyable if you only speak English and don't have any offspring.

Here is some footage of the day - the highlight was the parade.*

I don't claim to be any good at filming or uploading videos. I did some anyway for your pleasure (or pain).

* For any puppet fascists out there - I am fully aware that this may not adhere to the strict guidelines of what the definition of a puppet is, for you are welcome to think of it as a costume parade.

Loving the churches

When in a foreign country I like to seek out churches because they make me feel comfortable, which is odd since religion generally doesn’t.

It is the effect of being dragged round them when I was young on family holidays – every chance they would get, my parents would enter a religious building - not to attend a service but gawp at the interior which admittedly was more often than not, beautiful. My brother and I had no choice but to sit in these large spaces and I gradually begun to appreciate the surroundings.

Ouro Preto has 23 18th Century churches in a town of only 65,000 people. Because of the colonial influence, they remind me very much of those in Europe I was taken to as a child. They provide  the best way of navigating around the town – in New York it might be the Chrysler building, in Ouro Preto it is whatever church is in which area -  should you get lost, just look up, you can recognise whatever tower is above you. It is a small town anyway so I don’t have to do this anymore but it was helpful when I first arrived – after taking time to learn which ones were which.

Churches provide a space of peace (unless you have wandered into a makeshift evangelical church which is often not so special anyway), you don’t get hassled in a church – you get to enjoy the intricate detailed art all around you without being pushed out the way (most of the time) sold anything or have your safety threatened. You also get a free or very cheap shelter from the rain and you can stay in there for as long as you like. Also the added bonus of being somewhere where you don’t speak the language, you don’t get to understand the creepy lyrics that you may

hear from any hymns playing – which for me just adds to a soothing atmosphere.

The most famous church in Ouro Preto is `igreja de Sao Francisco de Assis ‘.While not so peaceful from the amount of school kids outside, it is utterly stunning, with the ceiling reminding me somewhat of the Sistine chapel, a much small version without the 100s of tourists using flashy cameras they have been told not to.

I love the decoration – so over the top and so kitch (apart from the freaky looking dolls admittedly) – in the Pilar church down the road from Sao Francisco, Mary and baby Jesus stand at the top what looks like a massive wedding cake covered in gold and silver. Whoever designed these structures really pushed the boat out when it came to providing a house of worship for his holiness – if you can’t go crazy when building a sanctuary for the creator then when can you?

Unfortunately for us, in Brazil many of these spaces are deemed too sacred to document with cameras (tut bloody religion - I am a tourist for gods sake) so I have some pictures taken from the outside instead.

Rio highlights

Despite what my other posts may suggest, we had a blinding time in Rio.
Here are some highlights.

Christ the Redeemer: very exciting was this. We bought the tickets the day before to avoid the queues. Unfortunately when that day came the peak was covered in a large cloud that meant that Christ was barely visible when we got to the top…you could barely see its head. Jesus’ head was literally in the clouds. Still pleased we almost saw it though.

Poor invisible Christ...all cold

What he should look like...without the ginga hair, purple dress, stupid expression, and human like appearance

Urca – We discovered the wonders of Urca after seeing the mile long queues for Sugar Loaf mountain. in the same area. While looking for a bar we found a beautiful area untouched by tourism. A calm and leafy pocket of Rio rarely mentioned in the guide books. This place was like a haven - it also had amazing views of the marina and the mountains. 

Urca providing a magnificent view

                                                   

An alternative form of transport

                                  

Maracana stadium – we went to see a cup match between a Rio team – Flamenco, and a team called Goya, from West Brazil. Despite having to navigate the extremely confusing metro system – an utter lack of information had us running to catch kick off ( I don’t know HOW they will manage next year, Rio will be full of lost and frustrated football fans) and gaining an enormous bruise on my leg which resulted from falling down the gap while running on an overcrowded train ( I have no idea how this happened the gap was tiny. My overly clumsy make up somehow made it happen),the atmostphere was incredible. The only other match I’ve ever seen was in Ipswich – it was a friendly against West Ham who played shockingly bad. Unfortunately my husband and his dad were supporting West Ham so they were very miserable…oh and it was raining.

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In Rio we were in a world famous stadium – there were 14,000 people there but with a capacity of 80,000 the stadium was half empty but it didn’t matter – the crowd was incredible. It felt amazing when we (Flamengo) scored. I love watching football in Brazil – it great being in a country that is so passionate about a game – that is not England! When England get knocked out of the World Cup next year Brazil gets by backing.

Copacobana Vs Ipenema : some truths

Copacobana, unsurprisingly, is a huge tourist trap – depending on where you stay, the degree of safety is different but we obviously picked the rougher end of town.

The beach front is full of bars and kiosks selling cocktails but there is an extreme lack of public toilets – in fact, I can’t find any so the only option when desperate is to piss on the beach. Which obviously makes it stink. It seems extremely edgy after dark and we realise that is is probably one of the top areas for thieves as pissed tourists wonder around by the beach turning themselves into massive targets. There are huge chain hotels, some looking hugely luxurious, providing a massive contrast to the homeless family 100 metres up the road. Copacobana beach has turned  into a victim of it’s own success and it’s not really that pleasant.

Mind you it is cheap – and it has tones of hotels – it is much more affordable than its very close and hugely different neighbour Ipenema which has tones of class and no beach kiosks. Those who sell on the beach in Ipenema have makeshift stalls that are packed up every day and the beach remains beautiful and unspoilt. It also has the benefit of mountain views and the Christ of Redeemer on the hill Lucky Ipenema. Lucky tourists who can afford to stay there. I would definitely come back – and possibly choose the safer end of the very accessible and affordable Copacobana.

Beautiful Ipenema, providing a solution to the lack of public loos

Our mate didn't realist this was the gay bit. Stupid!

Arriving in Rio: bit edgy

So we plan a city break to Rio for five days. We’ve booked a Bargain apartment 150 metres from Copacobana beach which we cleverly saught out on booking.com and are looking forward to chilling on the famous beach minutes away from where we are saying in tropical temperatures. Obviously we plan to do a little bit more than that but that will definetly be a main feature.

We arrive after getting the (quite comfortable actually) night bus from Ouro Preto at 5.40am it is pissing it down. We can’t check in until 9am so we wait a while in the bus station – by 8 it is bound to have started brightening up anyway so this is OK. The bus station provides us with a decent breakfast.

We get a taxi at 8am. The rain has turned torrential…and the traffic is horrendous. It takes 45 minutes to get to our apartment on a very busy street. We are let into our apartment in an extremely secure building – there are guards on the door 24/7 and they’re the only ones that can let you in to the block. What we’ve heard about Rio and it’s crime levels this makes us feel reassured and safe.

Our studio apartment is very well equipped and if you turn your head out the window you can see the beach. But you can also see two bars right below our apartment that we discover soon after are frequented by alcoholics who are most likely also drug addicts, who look like they are drinking to forget. There is a family of five  sleeping on a mattress opposite our apartment in the rain. There is no sound filter in our apartment – we can hear everything all night and I can’t sleep hearing everything and thinking about the family across the road. When we stick our heads out the window at 10am the following day the street view has turned very ugly as the same people who were drinking at 11pm are still drinking. Suddenly our apartment doesn’t seem such a bargain afterall.

Meat meat and more meat (not for the squeamish)

I never thought I would enjoy the taste of blood so much.

Could be the first line of a vampire novel but actually i'm just showing my appreciation of BBQs in Brazil (a little classier than the usual deal in the UK) and the way in which they cook their meat.

I've been to a few so far..they usually consist of endless pieces of steak cooked on the 'brine' (Grill in Portuguese) which are topped  with sea salt and cooked quickly so crispy on the outside and tender on the inside - then bread is provided to mop up the blood which hasn't been marinated in anything - except for the salt) and the only charcoal in site is under the grill - where it is supposed to be).

YUM.

Being a girl in Brazil

Brazilian women are very glamorous. When I go with G to pick up L from school the mothers look as though they have dressed up especially for the occasion – their hair and makeup are immaculate and they all look like they've spent the afternoon in a beauty salon. In comparison I fell like a tramp – and I don’t even have children. Which is a good thing considering what happened this morning.

From my interaction with L who is five years old, it seems as though the preoccupation with beauty starts at a very young age. L is five years old. Five going on 14. When I look at pictures of myself when I was five I have a bowler style mother cut fringe which was less than flattering and has never been in fashion, and NHS blue glasses. L is beautiful, takes full pride in her appearance which includes wearing lipstick. While this would be deemed ridiculous, or somewhat wrong in the UK, in Brazil everyone’s doing it (does not make it right, but it is unlikely I can change L's mind). This morning she was upset and I asked her what was wrong. She couldn't find her lipstick. Instead of telling her she doesn't need lipstick, I ended up showing her just how pathetic I can be (I am  blaming the pressure that is put upon women to look their best, rather admitting to myself that I behaved like a twat of course). The situation went something like this:

L is upset in the kitchen.

Me: What's the matter L?

L: I can't find my lipstick

Me: you can borrow mine if you like (I knew their was no point in telling her she didn't need it - nobody needs it)

L: What colour is it?

M: Pink (which is the magic word)

L: (eyes brighten) Mine too! Can you put yours on so I can see what it looks like?

M: Sure!

So off I trot to look for the pink lipstick. I can only find the deeper pink – the 'berry' colour, which is my personal favourite anyway, it’s not really pink though to be honest, it is more of a purple though make up counters like to say pink for some reason. 

Bearing in mind, I have recently woken up, have a make up free face and hair everywhere and probably look pretty minging, I put on the lipstick. L frowns. ‘THAT is not very pretty’. Trust a brutally honest five year old. I suddenly feel rubbish as I realise I have failed to impress. I fly around my room trying to find the lighter pink lipstick. When  I eventually find it I put it on and rush out to show L.  L turns round wearing her own lipstick which looks MUCH better than mine.

This scenario is tragic because

a)      L owns better lipstick than me and she is five.

b)     I am feeling competitive against a young person who has only just started school, about make up

c)      I am 34 years old and should be setting an example. I should be showing L that make up is not important

Shame on me.