The Bread Man Returns!

/3 Comments/in

In my post The Bread Man Alarm Clock, I told you about a guy who walks up my street each morning with a big basket of bread on his back, calling out to let everyone know that he is coming. ‘The Bread Man’ unknowingly acts as my alarm clock each morning, letting me know it’s time to get up.

Well, at the end of that post I promised than interview which never appeared. Having had a quick chat with him, I had planned to do some proper Q&A the next morning. But then the next morning there was no Bread Man, no alarm clock, no interview (and I was late for work!). The days turned into weeks and I started to wonder if he’d gone for good.

Well, I’m happy to be able to report that a couple of days ago his familiar cry once again echoed off the cobblestones (paralelepípedos) of our street and woke me from my slumber. And so I jumped out of bed, grabbed my camera and a notepad, and rushed downstairs to interrogate interview him. Here’s how it went (I have translated and paraphrased his responses):

Evaldo, AKA The Bread Man.

 

Read more

On your feet – I’m obese!

/9 Comments/in ,

The transport system in London is not renowned for being spacious, airy or comfortable. Neither is it known for being efficient, punctual or good value for money. It’s not all bad – I wish Rio’s subway network was as extensive as London’s – but it’s a constant source of complaint and discussion for Londoners.

London buses can get a little crowded

One perennial discussion centres on giving up your seat. If you travel between 8-10 in the morning or 5-7 in the evening you will have to stand most days. So when you manage to grab yourself a seat it can feel pretty good! Then you see a frail old guy, or a mother holding a child and you hop up to offer your seat right? …Right?!

Well yes, I think most of us do and (let’s be honest) we give ourselves a little mental pat on the back for being ‘a good person’ when we do it. In fact I find that it rather brightens my day, feeling that I’ve done something amazing for a helpless stranger in distress (keeping this little scene in my head allows me to really go to town on transforming myself into an urban transport hero).

Read more

Plugging hell…

/11 Comments/in

I’ve never really understood the science behind electricity. When I hear the word Resistance I think of French freedom fighters, Voltage is an Olympic event that requires a pole, Amps say “Marshall” on the front.

Huh?

 

Read more

The Bread Man Alarm Clock

/7 Comments/in
As I mentioned in a previous post, my first eight months in Rio were spent living in my mother-in-law’s house in Alto Gávea, a wealthy neighbourhood in Rio’s Zona Sul. Although nearby Baixo Gávea can get quite rowdy (especially on Thursday and Sunday nights) the area around my mother-in-law’s house is more residential and tends to be quite peaceful. 
 
So I got a shock when we moved to Santa Teresa – my ears were bombarded by a myriad of different noises. There are the sounds of concerts which pump up from nearby Lapa; on Sundays we hear Baile Funk [BUY-lee funk] parties from the nearby Morro do Santo Amaro favela; on my way home from work I pass the International Foundation of Angolan Capoeira and often hear their lovely music and singing. 



Outside my window I hear the tiny monkeys that squeal to each other as they run along the telephone lines in the street. 

 

These tiny monkeys, micos, scamper along the cables, constantly calling to each other with squeals so high-pitched they are only just audible.


Read more

My First Bus Chat

/4 Comments/in

In one of my first posts I gave a bit of an overview of the buses here in Rio – they are such a great way to get a snap shot of the people of Rio that it seemed a good place to start. And although I described some of the negative aspects, I hope the overall impression I gave was one of affection.  


One of the the first things that the buses showed me about the Cariocas is their willingness to chat. I watched as complete strangers sat next to each other and passed the time, discussing all kinds of interesting subjects in an amiable way. I remember thinking back to all those miserable bus journeys back in London where everyone would sit in a kind of suspended animation, where the closest thing you’d get to conversation would be someone tutting at the traffic. And then I would return my attention to Rio and the cheerful strangers in front of me as they discussed who knows what. 


Perhaps I am idealising the situation somewhat. It has occurred to me that my limited understanding of the language does mean that I’m missing all the bitching and complaining that may well be going on around me. They could well be moaning about the traffic in just the same spirit as my former co-passengers back in London. Well maybe they are, but at least they’re talking!   


Anyway, as much as I enjoy watching these conversations, I always felt rather sad that I couldn’t really take part in one. Although I was here and in amongst it, my lack of decent Portuguese meant that my role was restricted to that of spectator… Until tonight!

Read more