A few weeks ago I celebrated my second birthday in Brazil. If that grammatically lackadaisical statement leaves you in any doubt, I’m not 2 years old – I’ve had thirty-five birthdays in total, the last two of which were spent in Brazil. The first was spent drinking massively over-priced (but oooh so good) European beers in Ipanema; the second was spent having a churrasco [shu-HASH-co] (barbecue) with friends on what they refer to as our laje.
Churrasco na laje – precarious but fun! Note, this is someone else’s laje! Ours has a better health and safety rating… (Image: Edmir Silvestre)
As part of a project to review the best restaurants in Rio, I have been eating a lot of food from the North of Brazil recently (when I say ‘the North’, I am essentially referring to the states of Amazonas and Pará).
Amazonas and Pará are the two largest states in Brazil, covering 2.8 million square kilometres (if this area was a country it would be the 8th largest in the world).
Although these states comprise 32% of Brazil’s total area, they contain just 5.6% of the population, being largely covered by the Amazon rainforest. By virtue of it’s size and inaccessibility, this huge tract of rainforest still holds an air of mystery – it is home to 67 uncontacted tribes, as well as countless animal and plant species that have not yet been discovered/described by science.
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.
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!
https://eatrio.net/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/eat-rio-logo.png00tomlemeshttps://eatrio.net/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/eat-rio-logo.pngtomlemes2011-08-31 22:26:002023-12-28 11:12:56My First Bus Chat
When I arrived in Rio, the plan was to stay a couple of weeks with my girlfriend in her mother’s house, after which I would make alternative arrangements. I am a little ashamed to say that the ‘couple of weeks’ turned into 8 months – a testament tothe generous, welcoming nature of the lady who became minha sogra (my mother-in-law).
Although I don’t remember exactly what we ate on that first evening, one memory from the meal does remain. As everyone else was milling around in the kitchen, I approached the table and happened to notice that someone had put the knives and forks round the wrong way – knife on the left, fork on the right!
Well, being a polite young (ahem) man, I didn’t want my hosts to feel embarrassed when they discovered this mistake, so I quickly switched the cutlery around to their proper positions and then popped into the kitchen to help bring the food to the table.
As we sat down to eat, I saw that my girlfriend, her brother and mother all switched their cutlery back to their original positions! Thus I discovered that most Brazilians eat with their fork in the right hand and the knife in the left. I say most because it isn’t all of them – a quick glance round at lunch today showed that 8 out of my 10 work mates eat this way.
https://eatrio.net/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/eat-rio-logo.png00tomlemeshttps://eatrio.net/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/eat-rio-logo.pngtomlemes2011-08-26 19:44:002025-10-28 13:47:14How to eat like a Brazilian
