Posts

Essential for a Brazilian Christmas?

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A little while back I gave you my top Brazilian supermarket survival tips, born from many hours wandering around supermarkets here in Rio. I remember as a young kid, on some of my first trips abroad, being fascinated by the supermarkets of France (anyone remember Hollywood chewing gum?) and Germany (those yummy ginger cake/biscuits covered in chocolate – yum!). 


And I remember, aged 9, being awestruck the first time I saw Fluff: 

 

Are you a Fluffer-nutter? (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O6gljDcLrvQ)

Even today I enjoy checking out the weird and wonderful products when I visit a new country. I remember noticing last Easter that all the Rio supermarkets took the same approach to Easter-eggs. They built a kind of wooden framework (a bit like a Pergola) and then hung the eggs at about face-height, meaning you have to duck under the eggs if you want to get past!

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Sexy times at the airport

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I know. Airports aren’t generally thought of as sexy places. I guess there must be a few ‘aerophiles’ out there, a few lonely people who sit for hours on end identifying passenger jets and writing down aircraft registration numbers in books. But for the rest of us, visiting an airport is a fairly unexciting experience of waiting for people or planes.


Well here in Rio there is another, infinitely more tedious experience waiting for you at the airport: the offices of the Polícia Federal (PF). The Federal Police are responsible for dealing with visa applications and other issues related to estrangeiros (foreigners) and my wife and I have spent many, many hours sitting, waiting, pleading and complaining in their offices. Maybe I will bore you another day with a more detailed account of my experiences at the PF, but for now let’s just say that it’s a painful experience and usually leads to stress, exasperation and arguments.


‘So where does the sexy part come in?’ I hear you demand with libidinous impatience. Well that’s where this smoky-voiced lady comes in…

This was Íris Lettieri back in 1974. She has a sexy voice.

 

 

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jabuticaba

The Canonball Tree

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Often your expectations of another country aren’t quite matched by the reality when you finally arrive. It’s like that classic story you hear about the disappointed tourist asking the taxi driver in Sydney where all the kangaroos are hiding. Turns out most cities have the same ugly buildings around the airport, the same traffic jams and the same billboards advertising Coke and McDonald’s. Reality can be underwhelming can’t it? 

 
Well you needn’t worry about that on your drive into town from Rio’s airport. Sure there’s traffic and billboards, but there’s also a massive (and stinky) favela to see/smell – now you know you’re not in London/New York/Kansas anymore... 
 
But often I find it’s the less obvious differences that really pique my curiosity. Like what are those things on the side of bus and truck wheels for?

I was surprised how many people I asked didn’t know what purpose these cable things served. It turns out they are used to regulate pressure and alert the driver when a tyre deflates

On your feet – I’m obese!

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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).

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Plugging hell…

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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?

 

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