Quite why I haven’t written a blog for such a long time is a bit of a mystery to me. When speaking to a good friend of mine on skype the other day I put it down to the fact that my life here in Argentina is just not as random, bizarre and diverse as it was in Brazil. A promise I made to myself before I started the blog was that if I reached the point where my posts were in danger of reading like the script from that youtube clip ‘gap yah’ then I would stop writing until I had something vaguely interesting to say. However I quickly found that blogs are a bit like reverse Pringles, to the extent that once I stopped I found it very difficult to pop again.
So then why write one now, so close to the end of my time here in Buenos Aires? I think the answer lies in the combination of desperate attempt to put off my 4,000 word year abroad essay at all costs, a last minute bid to do something vaguely productive with my time here and to try to convince the girl that works next to me that I am doing something vaguely productive with my time here and a way for me to reflect on my Buenos Aires adventure, without looking back through all my facebook photos from the last 3 and a half months.
So given that I have such a long period of time to cover, I have decided to split my life into several key areas, which conveniently makes me sound a lot more productive than I actually am. So here goes;
Work
The fact that I am writing this from my desk at work tells you all you need to know about how vital a cog I am in the machine that is Cooper insurance brokers Argentina. I was lucky enough to find the job through a family friend, having previously spent months in a fruitless job search. By a job search I do of course mean occasionally typing ‘job argentina’ into google and then feigning surprise when ‘paid 5 month internship in sports section of Buenos Aires newspaper, no degree or relevant qualifications required’ didn’t come up as a hit. So as soon as a tangible offer came my way I of course snapped it up, and whilst I am not paid, I am working in a beautiful office (with balcony et al) in a great part of the city, with a really nice bunch of argentines with whom I speak entirely in Spanish. There is also a great drinks fridge with a range of beverages, currently including a bottle of champagne which I am rather optimistically hoping is for a surprise party for me when I leave for good at the end of next week.
As for my actual role within the organization, I have already alluded to the fact that I am not inundated with jobs or tasks. When I arrived I had a chat with one of the big names in the firm, and he told me that I would be moving around every two weeks and seeing what each department does. At the time I thought ‘what he actually means is I’m going to become the office bitch’. However if indeed that is my current job description then I have stumbled across the best place to be the run-around boy, because no one drinks any coffee, or if they do they seem perfectly happy to make it themselves, and there is no filing to be done because the motto seems to be ‘we’ll just put it on top of that big pile of other stuff’. So what does the run-around do if there is no running around to be done I hear you ask. Twenty years ago, my day would have probably involved a lot of thumb twiddling and elastic band flicking, but thanks to the wonders of the internet my day is spent exploring Facebook and working through a wide array of news sites, starting off my morning with the high brow articles off the BBC site, and ending the day with something more like ‘David Cameron wore thong to sixth form summer ball’ in the daily star.
I have also allocated myself more flexible working hours recently, because to be honest with you my 11-4 days get a bit much sometimes. This flexibility became obvious to me from an early stage when, having returned rather sheepishly from an hour and a half lunch with a friend I was told ‘you didn’t have to rush back’. As a result I am generally here from 11.30 until 2.45 including an hour for lunch. Short of my desk being a Jacuzzi, it couldn’t really be more relaxed here.
Mi casa y mi barrio
As you will know if you read my last post, I sent my friend Ben out here a week early to scout us out a place to live. Having read over what I said just after arriving, I can’t help but feel I did Almagro, my barrio (or endz) a great disservice. For a start, there has been none of the drug related turf wars I predicted, and in fact the only drugs I have seen are those smoked by the bearded men who work in the computer repair shop next door to us. I use the word ‘work’ in its loosest sense because they never seem to have any customers. This may be because their record of fixing computers isn’t great, for example Eva, the lady that owns my apartment, gave her computer in to be fixed and she still hasn’t had it returned. That was just short of two years ago.
In truth though Almagro has proved to be a quiet, friendly little area, with a cluster of really nice shops, bars, restaurants and cafes on the street adjacent to our own and the fact that we are pretty much the only non-argentines in the area means that we have built up quite a rapport with many of the waiters and shopkeepers. Special mention must go to Alejandro who works in the Parillita, the little steakhouse around the corner which combines a great steak sandwich with a subscription to ESPN. Alejandro loves to chat a bit of football, and we have been able to shed a few tears together of late as the form of Arsenal and his beloved River plate have both gone down the toilet recently. He also got it into his head at some point that Ben was a Man U fan, and rather than correct him at an early stage, Ben has now got to the point where he has to pretend to be elated every time they win.
The house itself is a bit of a beaut as well. The terrace served us really well for three months, and played host to a good few barbecues, but the arrival of May and a distinct lack of hats coats and scarves has meant that the alfresco dining has been put on hold. The house dynamic is a lot of fun as well and whilst my love/hate relationship with our foot licking dog pippin continues, the rest of us get on well. Sadly our German housemate Lukas returned home in April, although Ben maintains his daily renditions of ‘two world wars and one world cup do da do da’ had nothing to do with it. He has, however, been replaced by Malcolm, a 6”5 college basketball star from Philadelphia who is an absolute hero and well on his way to becoming a Michelin starred chef. If only he was able to light the gas himself. Rocio, who studies law at the University of Buenos Aires, is an ideal housemate and her range of animal impressions is second to none. In terms of cleanliness, Ben and I have made massive steps forward and we have finally got to grips with what Eva expects from us. Saying that she does still call me a ‘desastre’ from time to time and tells me my room looks like Bin Laden’s hide out, but I guess you can’t have it all.
Extra curricular activities
Buenos Aires unlike Florianopolis could be described as ‘brimming with culture’ and whilst I never planned to go traipsing around galleries every weekend, I feel that I have seen a lot of interesting stuff. I find it always helps having friends to visit, because that pushes you to get up of the sofa (got one in my room, and what?) and have a wander into the markets like the ones in San Telmo and La Boca, or go along to the zoo. The Buenos Aires zoo is actually pretty cool and well worth a visit if you’re in the area. There is an interesting system in place by which the animals are allocated space on the basis of how badass they are considered. For example the Siberian white tiger has a huge area, complete with an aesthetically pleasing water feature, whereas the poor meerkats were shoved into a tiny box. They must be crossing their little fingers that the whole ‘compare the meerkat.com’ goes global.
In my mind, cultural activities also extend to things like cinema, theatre and shows. We have been to the cinema a couple of times, hit a tango show and went to a performance of the ‘teatro ciego’ or ‘blind theatre’. The blind theatre was probably the most unusual thing that I have experienced here. Firstly I must make it clear that you do not have to be blind to go, as the poor man in front of me in the ticket queue found out too late having already bought a long white stick and a guide dog. No, the blind theatre is given its name because it is conducted in complete pitch black and aims to target your other senses. It really was a cool, although I can only imagine what sort of chaos would ensue if ever there was a fire.
On the sporting front, Saturday mornings have often been spent playing for a local football team who play in a Saturday league. Unfortunately the regular Friday night rain has put pay to several fixtures but we are currently unbeaten in the league, and apart from anything else it’s a really nice group of guys we play with. However since my three week expedition to Patagonia and Brazil I have found my return to the fold less like a Van Persie returning from an injury and more like an Eboue returning from the African cup of nations. But that’s life I guess.
I do intend to write a little bit about my time with my family and my grand return to Brazil, but I think I will spare you that for now as this post is already essay length. I have sadly just discovered that the packaging of the delicious sandwich I have just eaten contains the strap line ‘France in your mouth’. I might just nip and brush my teeth
Until next time….
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Saturday, February 12, 2011
I'm not dead....just lazy
I know that i haven't blogged in a long time, but i can confirm that rumours of my untimely death at the hands of a Brazilian drug lord are completely unfounded. No instead, as i sit on the roof terrace of my new appartment in Buenos Aires with a glass of Quilmes in one hand (its actually on the table so i can type but the hand image works a lot better in my head) I can reflect on two great months of rest and relaxation, of extravagance and excess but most importantly....of zero work.
When i last posted I was returning to Floripa from Rio. The major disadvantage of writing so long after the event is that all my memories have become absorbed into one of two groups. 'Beach' or 'after the beach.' When trying to remember amusing things that happened 'after the beach' two events sprung to mind, the first of which involved us trying to sell our other friend chloe for 20 reais (8 quid) after a night out because some Brazilians confused her for Pamela Anderson, and we needed money for a cab.
The second is yet more ridiculous as, having missed the last bus and with no cabs in sight, we accepted a lift from a crazy middle aged Italian woman. The rest of the story needs to be told from two angles, firstly what me, nick and Simao II saw as none of us speak Italian. We got in the car and our friend Giv was happily chatting away in Italian with the woman and we began to set off towards home. While her driving was irratic to say the least, we were prepared to overlook this fact as we were apparently getting a free lift home. It was only after about 15 minutes when the woman turned around and screamed 'f**k you guys' at us that we began to realise the arrangment may not be going that well. Then Giv said something else to her in Italian, we drove on a bit, and then he said something else and she dropped us by the side of the road within walking distance from home.
What actually happened as we found out from Giv on the walk home, is that the only reason we had got a lift is because Giv had promised this woman that we were having a massive party and that she could come if she drove us. After 15 mins Giv then admitted that there was no party, hence her strong reaction. Giv then told her there was actually a party (when she started driving again) an then finally that no, there definitely was no party (at which point she chucked us out the car). Its only through writing this down that i can appreciate exactly how mental the whole thing was. I feel i've learnt my lesson though......don't trust italians
As the end of my time in Floripa approached and with many of my friends in the midst of exams, I decided to shun the 'gap year' stereotype and went travelling for two weeks to a little known place called Peru. Bungee jumping, the inca trail to Machu Pichu, the Best cooked brekkie of my life, i had two incredible weeks shared with an awesome group of people. If anyone is to blame for the puns that follow its Dan and Mikey, two Aussies who were with me for the whole trip, which happily coincided with the ashes.
I then returned to Floripa for a week to pack my things and say my goodbyes. I had really good leaving drinks at a bar called chopp de Gus, which misleadingly doesn't have a shop or a goose. An American would sue you for less. Then it was back to England for some cracking 21sts, including a great trip to Barcelona christmas with the fam and two great visits to Bristol.
Whilst i was undoubtedly keen to get started with the second half of my year i will admit i was really enjoying being back in the UK and so i booked my flight for 2nd of Feb. This meant that Ben, a good mate of mine from Bristol who i had (begrudgingly) agreed to live with, had to find us a flat by himself.
One of the main things that i expressed to Ben via skype whilst he was busily flat hunting was that the location of the accomodation was vitally important. We had agreed that Palermo probably be the best area to be, and so I was a little concerned when i heard that the place Ben had found for us was in Almagro, not least because it sounds a bit like someone with a speech impediment saying 'i'll mug you.' However, my fears were instantly allayed on arrival, when i saw that on the building across the road from our flat, someone had graffitied the words 'Almagro de mi vida, de las drogas, mi preferida.' I was able to loosely translate the message as 'Almagro is my life, its full of drugs and thats how i like it. Whilst the threat of turf wars and general gang violence is an obvious downside of being in an area renowned for drugs, i was able to take two positive things out of the situation.
1) my spanish isn't as bad as i thought it was.
2) Having drugs so readily available close by means that i don't have to cross town (which would have exposed me to the threat of being robbed, run over or ridiculed in some way) in order to service the unfortunate penchant for crack i seem to have picked up in Brazil.
In any case Ben did really well for us as the flat itself is an absolute 'petardo', which giv has informed me is the literal spanish translation of 'banger'. Iv got a really nice room but the roof terrace is the undoubted highlight with a distinctly moroccan soukh vibe in one corner. Im sure we have a lot of fez-tivities to come up there. We also have a house dog called pippin who has some strange habbits including poking me while im sleeping and licking my feet. As well as Ben and pippin, i am sharing the flat with Eva, Rocio and Lukas; two argentines and a german respectively. We get on really well (i did mention the war once but i think i got away with it) and we speak in spanish which is after all what im here to do. We had a 'family' barbecue on my second night where i performed the crucial role of that guy that stands there and blows on the flames every now and then. I won't lie, i did it pretty well.
As you may remember i visited here last semester, and loved it. If you combined the nightlife, culture and cuisine of Paris with the cheapness of Peru you'd get somewhere close to B.A. Imagine, if you will, enjoying a meal of red wine and steak frites....served by a llama. Welcome to Buenos.Aires.
As my job starts on monday (at the ungodly hour of 11 i might add) and so i have had a fair amount of time to relax and enjoy myself. We've been out a couple of nights and i have managed to cross bit off of my to-do list. I have always found its better to aim low with a to-do list because then you can be a massive underacheiver, but still have that great feeling of crossing something off. Some of the things i have crossed off so far include;
charge my phone
unpack
eat some steak
see if pippin can fly by lobbing him off the balcony (Ben's addition)
put credit on my phone
brush my teeth
you get the picture...
However i have managed to finish the 2000 word essay i had to write in portuguese for Bristol. Its fair to say i was stuck in a bit of a vicious circle where my essay was ruining my year abroad and my year abroad was ruining my essay. Anyway I was pretty happy with this acheivment, not only because i managed to fit it inbetween charging my phone and brushing my teeth, but also because trying to speak spanish whilst writing an essay in portuguese is bloody impossible. The closest comparison i can draw, apart from repeating the same situation but with two different languages, is to imagine if that woman from the m&s adverts started moonlighting at Mcdonalds. Linguistic overlap is impossible to avoid, and some poor customer would get 'this is not just a chicken nugget, this is a battery farmed, oil soaked, 3 week old chicken nugget'. Im not sure the analogy works perfectly but you get the point.
Overall I feel like i am settling into Argentinian life as well, and i dont feel like as much of a standout gringo as i did when i first arrived in Brazil. However my time here has not been without the occasional moment of cultural misunderstanding. Like the time i didn't realise that the man who casually dropped a pack of tissues onto my lap on the tube was expecting some form of payment for them, and was not just a friendly individual, acutely aware of the problems caused by the hayfever season. As i innocently went to put said packet into my bag, the man returned and started shouting at me in unintelligable spanish. So i gave him the tissues back.
I only thought later that i should have accompanied it with 'if you've got an issue, here's a tissue' but i probably wouldn't have conveyed the sense of the phrase in Spanish. Anyway, considering the size of the guy i was happy just to have made a KLEENEXcape with my health intact.
Although work starts soon, I am pretty damn psyched for the months ahead.
Anyway, I hopefully should be back to once a week upadates, and I promise the next blog won't have any more crappy puns
Hasta la vista
When i last posted I was returning to Floripa from Rio. The major disadvantage of writing so long after the event is that all my memories have become absorbed into one of two groups. 'Beach' or 'after the beach.' When trying to remember amusing things that happened 'after the beach' two events sprung to mind, the first of which involved us trying to sell our other friend chloe for 20 reais (8 quid) after a night out because some Brazilians confused her for Pamela Anderson, and we needed money for a cab.
The second is yet more ridiculous as, having missed the last bus and with no cabs in sight, we accepted a lift from a crazy middle aged Italian woman. The rest of the story needs to be told from two angles, firstly what me, nick and Simao II saw as none of us speak Italian. We got in the car and our friend Giv was happily chatting away in Italian with the woman and we began to set off towards home. While her driving was irratic to say the least, we were prepared to overlook this fact as we were apparently getting a free lift home. It was only after about 15 minutes when the woman turned around and screamed 'f**k you guys' at us that we began to realise the arrangment may not be going that well. Then Giv said something else to her in Italian, we drove on a bit, and then he said something else and she dropped us by the side of the road within walking distance from home.
What actually happened as we found out from Giv on the walk home, is that the only reason we had got a lift is because Giv had promised this woman that we were having a massive party and that she could come if she drove us. After 15 mins Giv then admitted that there was no party, hence her strong reaction. Giv then told her there was actually a party (when she started driving again) an then finally that no, there definitely was no party (at which point she chucked us out the car). Its only through writing this down that i can appreciate exactly how mental the whole thing was. I feel i've learnt my lesson though......don't trust italians
As the end of my time in Floripa approached and with many of my friends in the midst of exams, I decided to shun the 'gap year' stereotype and went travelling for two weeks to a little known place called Peru. Bungee jumping, the inca trail to Machu Pichu, the Best cooked brekkie of my life, i had two incredible weeks shared with an awesome group of people. If anyone is to blame for the puns that follow its Dan and Mikey, two Aussies who were with me for the whole trip, which happily coincided with the ashes.
I then returned to Floripa for a week to pack my things and say my goodbyes. I had really good leaving drinks at a bar called chopp de Gus, which misleadingly doesn't have a shop or a goose. An American would sue you for less. Then it was back to England for some cracking 21sts, including a great trip to Barcelona christmas with the fam and two great visits to Bristol.
Whilst i was undoubtedly keen to get started with the second half of my year i will admit i was really enjoying being back in the UK and so i booked my flight for 2nd of Feb. This meant that Ben, a good mate of mine from Bristol who i had (begrudgingly) agreed to live with, had to find us a flat by himself.
One of the main things that i expressed to Ben via skype whilst he was busily flat hunting was that the location of the accomodation was vitally important. We had agreed that Palermo probably be the best area to be, and so I was a little concerned when i heard that the place Ben had found for us was in Almagro, not least because it sounds a bit like someone with a speech impediment saying 'i'll mug you.' However, my fears were instantly allayed on arrival, when i saw that on the building across the road from our flat, someone had graffitied the words 'Almagro de mi vida, de las drogas, mi preferida.' I was able to loosely translate the message as 'Almagro is my life, its full of drugs and thats how i like it. Whilst the threat of turf wars and general gang violence is an obvious downside of being in an area renowned for drugs, i was able to take two positive things out of the situation.
1) my spanish isn't as bad as i thought it was.
2) Having drugs so readily available close by means that i don't have to cross town (which would have exposed me to the threat of being robbed, run over or ridiculed in some way) in order to service the unfortunate penchant for crack i seem to have picked up in Brazil.
In any case Ben did really well for us as the flat itself is an absolute 'petardo', which giv has informed me is the literal spanish translation of 'banger'. Iv got a really nice room but the roof terrace is the undoubted highlight with a distinctly moroccan soukh vibe in one corner. Im sure we have a lot of fez-tivities to come up there. We also have a house dog called pippin who has some strange habbits including poking me while im sleeping and licking my feet. As well as Ben and pippin, i am sharing the flat with Eva, Rocio and Lukas; two argentines and a german respectively. We get on really well (i did mention the war once but i think i got away with it) and we speak in spanish which is after all what im here to do. We had a 'family' barbecue on my second night where i performed the crucial role of that guy that stands there and blows on the flames every now and then. I won't lie, i did it pretty well.
As you may remember i visited here last semester, and loved it. If you combined the nightlife, culture and cuisine of Paris with the cheapness of Peru you'd get somewhere close to B.A. Imagine, if you will, enjoying a meal of red wine and steak frites....served by a llama. Welcome to Buenos.Aires.
As my job starts on monday (at the ungodly hour of 11 i might add) and so i have had a fair amount of time to relax and enjoy myself. We've been out a couple of nights and i have managed to cross bit off of my to-do list. I have always found its better to aim low with a to-do list because then you can be a massive underacheiver, but still have that great feeling of crossing something off. Some of the things i have crossed off so far include;
charge my phone
unpack
eat some steak
see if pippin can fly by lobbing him off the balcony (Ben's addition)
put credit on my phone
brush my teeth
you get the picture...
However i have managed to finish the 2000 word essay i had to write in portuguese for Bristol. Its fair to say i was stuck in a bit of a vicious circle where my essay was ruining my year abroad and my year abroad was ruining my essay. Anyway I was pretty happy with this acheivment, not only because i managed to fit it inbetween charging my phone and brushing my teeth, but also because trying to speak spanish whilst writing an essay in portuguese is bloody impossible. The closest comparison i can draw, apart from repeating the same situation but with two different languages, is to imagine if that woman from the m&s adverts started moonlighting at Mcdonalds. Linguistic overlap is impossible to avoid, and some poor customer would get 'this is not just a chicken nugget, this is a battery farmed, oil soaked, 3 week old chicken nugget'. Im not sure the analogy works perfectly but you get the point.
Overall I feel like i am settling into Argentinian life as well, and i dont feel like as much of a standout gringo as i did when i first arrived in Brazil. However my time here has not been without the occasional moment of cultural misunderstanding. Like the time i didn't realise that the man who casually dropped a pack of tissues onto my lap on the tube was expecting some form of payment for them, and was not just a friendly individual, acutely aware of the problems caused by the hayfever season. As i innocently went to put said packet into my bag, the man returned and started shouting at me in unintelligable spanish. So i gave him the tissues back.
I only thought later that i should have accompanied it with 'if you've got an issue, here's a tissue' but i probably wouldn't have conveyed the sense of the phrase in Spanish. Anyway, considering the size of the guy i was happy just to have made a KLEENEXcape with my health intact.
Although work starts soon, I am pretty damn psyched for the months ahead.
Anyway, I hopefully should be back to once a week upadates, and I promise the next blog won't have any more crappy puns
Hasta la vista
Sunday, November 21, 2010
On the 29th of July, as my family waved me off at Mallorca airport, my dad suggested that the family might come to Brazil to visit me during my time in Florianopolis. At the time i assumed that this was some well intentioned idea that would prove that they cared about their oldest son despite not being there to wave him off from heathrow, but that would likely never materialise. You may think that i was being overly cynical, but considering they made it up to Canterbury about three times over the five year period i was at school there, you can understand my position. Anyone with a rough grasp of geography will know that Brazil is quite a bit further away than Canterbury.
So when i was told that an arrival date had been decided and that a rough intinerary had been devised i was pretty shocked. I was delighted of course, being away from the Englanders for 3 months made me realise i actually like them a bit, but i was also a little bit anxious. Many people on their years abroad don't want visits from family and friends because they view the time as a very personal experience, completely seperate to their lives at home. This was not my issue. My worries were linked to the daunting prospect of making sure everyone had a good time, which in the case of my family means a careful balance between finding enough sun for my mum, enough culture and beautiful brazilian girls for my dad, enough bizarre and life threatening activities for my brother Tom and enough time to play PSP for my brother Will. Whats more, given that none of them could speak a word of portuguese, it wasn't going to be easy.
Before their arrival on the 20th of October, I had a really good beach week in Floripa. I hit my first brazilian poker session, which was really enjoyable, partly because it was nice to sit around chatting and having a few beers but maily because i won. I put my 50 reais winnings to good use as we had a great couple of nights out. Sunday night in particular was an awesome experience, an authentic brazilian samba experience in an old fishing hut by the sea, with a crazy old man dressed like a sailor handing out filthily strong caipirinhas. The crowd was a bizarre mixture of students, pensioners, and cougars (predatory older women) but everyone seemed to be loving it.
On the tuesday we got up early and embarked on the famous trail of Lagoinha del este, a serious 2 hour hike over a mountain to a secluded beach only otherwise reachable by boat. In order to maintain the natural beauty there are no bars or restaurants on the entire beach, which is lovely unless like me you eat your entire packed lunch on the journey there. We were also the only people for quite sometime, until having walked a bit further down I encountered a local man who, having identified me as a tourist by my pink swimmin trunks, started hurling abuse at me in portuguese accusing me of coming to the beach to ruin the nature and cut down trees like i had in my own country. I tried to calm him down by assuring him that my lack of equipment would prevent me from doing any tree cutting even if i wanted to, but this didn't seem to help. A few hours later having completed the trek back, we went to see Figuerense hold on to a 1-0 win to really push their chances of promotion. Its a shame i won't be here to see them play in the first division.
The Englanders arrived at the airport at 9am the following morning armed with a series of things i had requested from home as well as some lovely additional items that my Grandma had slipped in. When you have a jewish family nothing is done half heartedly and i now have more percy pigs than days left in Brazil. As a result i am trying to incorporate them into as many meals as possible, although pasta pesto and percy is still not working for me.
After showing the family around the uni and having lunch at my house we headed up to where we stayed on the north of the island. I was delighted to find that as well as being right on the beach, the resort was able to provide all of the aforementioned family requirements (bar the beautiful brazilian girls which greatly upset my dad). Because we were staying in low season the rest of the clientele were varied, and we were almost certainly the only europeans. There also seemed to be a group of weightwatchers equivalents, which considering the resort operated on an all you can eat buffet basis for all three meals, i found a little counterproductive.
Although we did spend a lot of time within the resort, either by the pool or on the beach or trying out quadbiking and surfing, we spent a day travelling the island with a guide. It was nice for them to get a sense of the Island, but lunch in a little restaurant by the sea was the undoubted highlight. The calamari and prawn risotto were amazing and like everyone that eats there we left a little message stuck to the wall.
On the saturday night i left my family in the resort to join a group of friends to go to Oktoberfest. As there were 15 of us we hired a minibus to do the 2 hour journey to Blumenau and so we hit pre-drinks with a 'Simply Red' concert dvd playing in the background (strangely this was the only one the driver had). I wasn't quite sure what to expect when i arrived but on entering through the gates of the event and being greeted by the smeel of sour beer and vomit, i knew it was going to be a cracking night.....Henrik Von Inglunder had arrived.
The place itself felt like something out of Harry Potter with its narrow cobbled streets although the fact that many people were wandering arond in tall pointy hats may have been a contributing factor. We had a great time wandering around, dancing to traditional folk music, chatting to random people and drinking lots of german beer. At about 2.30 am me and my friend Luca decided that we were quite hungry and wandered over to a little stall selling roasted chicken on a stick. To our horror within 20 seconds of purchasing it, our delicious dinner fell on the floor. Normally i am a firm believer in the 5 second rule when food falls on the floor, but the mixture of beer, grime and god knows what else that covered the street made me reconsider. We asked the man who was serving us whether we could have a new one as he had many left and the stall was closing. He consulted his boss who was an angry old woman who just said 'no.' We tried to argue, but she wouldn't budge and so in a fit of rage, Luca picked up the chicken from the floor, threw it down again and started jumping on it. Definitely the funniest moment of the night. The minibus picked us up at 4am and drove us back to Floripa, from where I went back to the resort.
After a couple more days in Floripa, we boarded a plane to Rio de Janeiro, somewhere I had really wanted to visit. We had two full days in Rio but considering we only had such a short time there i felt we saw a good part of what the city had to offer as well as having some time to have a swim on Copocabana beach where we were staying. I liked a lot of what we saw but if i had to pick a favourite, the view from the top of christ the redeemer was pretty breathtaking, even more so than the view from kite hill on the heath which i know hampstead residents will find hard to beleive.
Our time in Rio was also marked by the regular appearance of a funny little man from a jewellery store who failed to get the message that my mum had no interest in buying any of his collection of neclaces, rings or bird sculptures made from precious stones. To be fair to him, he can't be falted for lack of effort, he followed us around the entire time, up mountains and across the city, hiding behind newspapers, climbing trees hanging onto the underside of cablecars, just so he could try and persuade us the ruby eagle was worth the investment. Silly man.
Whilst my parent had to leave on the friday morning i stayed on for a couple of days with friends of bright sun and 30 degree heat, which involved seeing more of the beach and the nightlife as well as a ride through a favela on a moped which was amazing and terrifying in equal measure (I was terrified by the driving not by the favela). On the friday night we went to a street party in Lapa (one of Rio's many districts) with my friend Lucy who is working in Rio at the moment and some of her mates. It was a really good night and the streets were still packed when we left for home at 5am. The only slightly hairy moment came sometime during the party, when two guys tried to pickpocket me. Although i managed to shake them off, between them they could have easily come back at me and taken my things. Instead to my surprise they just looked taken aback as if to say 'i can't believe you won't let us just mug you, how selfish'. Although baffled, i was delighted to hang onto my stuff.
The following night we had a relaxed dinner and some drinks at the hostel bar as some of our group were heading back to England. Meanwhile the rest of us were heading back to Florianopolis where the summer had finally arrived...
So when i was told that an arrival date had been decided and that a rough intinerary had been devised i was pretty shocked. I was delighted of course, being away from the Englanders for 3 months made me realise i actually like them a bit, but i was also a little bit anxious. Many people on their years abroad don't want visits from family and friends because they view the time as a very personal experience, completely seperate to their lives at home. This was not my issue. My worries were linked to the daunting prospect of making sure everyone had a good time, which in the case of my family means a careful balance between finding enough sun for my mum, enough culture and beautiful brazilian girls for my dad, enough bizarre and life threatening activities for my brother Tom and enough time to play PSP for my brother Will. Whats more, given that none of them could speak a word of portuguese, it wasn't going to be easy.
Before their arrival on the 20th of October, I had a really good beach week in Floripa. I hit my first brazilian poker session, which was really enjoyable, partly because it was nice to sit around chatting and having a few beers but maily because i won. I put my 50 reais winnings to good use as we had a great couple of nights out. Sunday night in particular was an awesome experience, an authentic brazilian samba experience in an old fishing hut by the sea, with a crazy old man dressed like a sailor handing out filthily strong caipirinhas. The crowd was a bizarre mixture of students, pensioners, and cougars (predatory older women) but everyone seemed to be loving it.
On the tuesday we got up early and embarked on the famous trail of Lagoinha del este, a serious 2 hour hike over a mountain to a secluded beach only otherwise reachable by boat. In order to maintain the natural beauty there are no bars or restaurants on the entire beach, which is lovely unless like me you eat your entire packed lunch on the journey there. We were also the only people for quite sometime, until having walked a bit further down I encountered a local man who, having identified me as a tourist by my pink swimmin trunks, started hurling abuse at me in portuguese accusing me of coming to the beach to ruin the nature and cut down trees like i had in my own country. I tried to calm him down by assuring him that my lack of equipment would prevent me from doing any tree cutting even if i wanted to, but this didn't seem to help. A few hours later having completed the trek back, we went to see Figuerense hold on to a 1-0 win to really push their chances of promotion. Its a shame i won't be here to see them play in the first division.
The Englanders arrived at the airport at 9am the following morning armed with a series of things i had requested from home as well as some lovely additional items that my Grandma had slipped in. When you have a jewish family nothing is done half heartedly and i now have more percy pigs than days left in Brazil. As a result i am trying to incorporate them into as many meals as possible, although pasta pesto and percy is still not working for me.
After showing the family around the uni and having lunch at my house we headed up to where we stayed on the north of the island. I was delighted to find that as well as being right on the beach, the resort was able to provide all of the aforementioned family requirements (bar the beautiful brazilian girls which greatly upset my dad). Because we were staying in low season the rest of the clientele were varied, and we were almost certainly the only europeans. There also seemed to be a group of weightwatchers equivalents, which considering the resort operated on an all you can eat buffet basis for all three meals, i found a little counterproductive.
Although we did spend a lot of time within the resort, either by the pool or on the beach or trying out quadbiking and surfing, we spent a day travelling the island with a guide. It was nice for them to get a sense of the Island, but lunch in a little restaurant by the sea was the undoubted highlight. The calamari and prawn risotto were amazing and like everyone that eats there we left a little message stuck to the wall.
On the saturday night i left my family in the resort to join a group of friends to go to Oktoberfest. As there were 15 of us we hired a minibus to do the 2 hour journey to Blumenau and so we hit pre-drinks with a 'Simply Red' concert dvd playing in the background (strangely this was the only one the driver had). I wasn't quite sure what to expect when i arrived but on entering through the gates of the event and being greeted by the smeel of sour beer and vomit, i knew it was going to be a cracking night.....Henrik Von Inglunder had arrived.
The place itself felt like something out of Harry Potter with its narrow cobbled streets although the fact that many people were wandering arond in tall pointy hats may have been a contributing factor. We had a great time wandering around, dancing to traditional folk music, chatting to random people and drinking lots of german beer. At about 2.30 am me and my friend Luca decided that we were quite hungry and wandered over to a little stall selling roasted chicken on a stick. To our horror within 20 seconds of purchasing it, our delicious dinner fell on the floor. Normally i am a firm believer in the 5 second rule when food falls on the floor, but the mixture of beer, grime and god knows what else that covered the street made me reconsider. We asked the man who was serving us whether we could have a new one as he had many left and the stall was closing. He consulted his boss who was an angry old woman who just said 'no.' We tried to argue, but she wouldn't budge and so in a fit of rage, Luca picked up the chicken from the floor, threw it down again and started jumping on it. Definitely the funniest moment of the night. The minibus picked us up at 4am and drove us back to Floripa, from where I went back to the resort.
After a couple more days in Floripa, we boarded a plane to Rio de Janeiro, somewhere I had really wanted to visit. We had two full days in Rio but considering we only had such a short time there i felt we saw a good part of what the city had to offer as well as having some time to have a swim on Copocabana beach where we were staying. I liked a lot of what we saw but if i had to pick a favourite, the view from the top of christ the redeemer was pretty breathtaking, even more so than the view from kite hill on the heath which i know hampstead residents will find hard to beleive.
Our time in Rio was also marked by the regular appearance of a funny little man from a jewellery store who failed to get the message that my mum had no interest in buying any of his collection of neclaces, rings or bird sculptures made from precious stones. To be fair to him, he can't be falted for lack of effort, he followed us around the entire time, up mountains and across the city, hiding behind newspapers, climbing trees hanging onto the underside of cablecars, just so he could try and persuade us the ruby eagle was worth the investment. Silly man.
Whilst my parent had to leave on the friday morning i stayed on for a couple of days with friends of bright sun and 30 degree heat, which involved seeing more of the beach and the nightlife as well as a ride through a favela on a moped which was amazing and terrifying in equal measure (I was terrified by the driving not by the favela). On the friday night we went to a street party in Lapa (one of Rio's many districts) with my friend Lucy who is working in Rio at the moment and some of her mates. It was a really good night and the streets were still packed when we left for home at 5am. The only slightly hairy moment came sometime during the party, when two guys tried to pickpocket me. Although i managed to shake them off, between them they could have easily come back at me and taken my things. Instead to my surprise they just looked taken aback as if to say 'i can't believe you won't let us just mug you, how selfish'. Although baffled, i was delighted to hang onto my stuff.
The following night we had a relaxed dinner and some drinks at the hostel bar as some of our group were heading back to England. Meanwhile the rest of us were heading back to Florianopolis where the summer had finally arrived...
Friday, November 12, 2010
A tale of two cities - my travels part 2.
Rather than 'Buenos Aires and Montevideo', i think a more accurate description of the second half of my trip would be 'Buenos Aires feat. Montevideo' as we were only in Uruguay's capital for a mere 24 hours. While this might not have been enough time to really get to know the city, I make no apologies, as our decision to extend our stay in Buenos Aires was based on it being cheap, fun and very sunn........y. I'm pretty confident my decision to spend the 2nd half of my year abroad there will turn out to be a great shout.
The journey to B.A. did turn out to be a bit of a let down, the lavish champagne buffet i had conjured up in my mind turned out to be a little optimistic, and instead we were offered an assortment of cheese based snacks with crackers and a bit of ham on a stick. Luckily there was also some pasta going round which i thought was pretty good. My Italian friend (who due to his heritage is a bit of a pasta snob) thought differently however, refusing to eat his portion saying 'this is nota how youa makea de bolognese' before adding 'babadibooppi' for effect.
I also decided on the journey that it would be a good idea to send an email to the man i will be working for in Buenos Aires, letting him know that i would be visiting the city. I don't know what i was hoping for, maybe a reply saying 'oh muy bien, lets go for drinks and a really nice meal (which i'll pay for) and then i can tell you what to see in the city and introduce you to some nice young argentinian girls' but unfortunately what i got instead was 'oh muy bien, come for an interview as soon as you arrive.' So after dumping my stuff at the hostel and donning my one remaining clean t shirt, i headed down to the offices on the riverfront.
The interview itself was a bit of a disaster, having put 'advanced level of spanish' on my CV my boss must have been surprised to hear his beloved mother tongue shamelessly blended with a coulourful assortment of other words, some portuguese and english and others just made up altogether. However, i'm taking the fact that he didn't withdraw his offer of employment on the spot, as a big positive.
After this rather stressful beginning, the days began to take on an altogether more relaxed shape. We spent most of the day time exploring the various 'barrios' (districts) of the city, sitting in the sun drinking beer and watching tango and visiting as many markets as was physically possible in order to maximise the benefits of the extremely good pound to peso exchange rate. I came to realise that one impulse purchase can start a whole string of other impulse purchases, until you end up back at the hostel lamenting your empty wallet and trying to remember why you bought that giant picture of a cow, or that lifetime supply of dulce de leche. Some of the group's best purchases included; a llama wool, poncho, a chessboard, an occarina, an indigenous flute, some salami, some incense, a variety of interesting hats, several football shirts, a lot of red wine and one very expensive glass of coke.
Buenos Aires is a bit of a football mad city, so when we weren't buying strange souveniers, we tried to take in as much football related culture as possible. Our big hope had been to see a Boca Juniors game, but as they were playing away from home we had to make do with visiting the stadium. Generally speaking i'm not a big fan of stadium tours as they usually involve walking through room after room showing lengthly black and white films about the construction of new stands. However in this case we were shown straight to the pitch where us four boys unashamedly paid to take the cheesey photo standing on the pitch holding various trophies. It was 100 percent worth it (although i did have my suspicions it might not be the official world cup i had in my hands).
As there was no Boca game we headed off to see River Plate (Buenos Aires' other big team). We went with a group, as we were told that it could be dangerous for tourists to go without a local. It turned out to be a good decision. We were waiting in the queue to enter the stadium with our guide who happened to look and act incredibly like Mr Bean, when a rather strange and drunk individual began to try and shove his hand in to my friend Nick's pocket, letting out loud grunts as he went. The guy, on whom we bestowed the appropriate if not very imaginative title of 'pocket man', would have probably continued this strange activity for some time (despite Nick not having any valuables in his pockets) had Bean not saved the day. After a short conversation which i assume involved bean informing pocket man of the inappropriate nature of his actions Nick and his pockets were left alone for the remainder of the afternoon. The game itself was quite exciting despite it ending as a draw, and the experience of being in such a huge stadium with such a great atmosphere was pretty incredible.
With so much going on in the daytime, we usually hit a 6 o'clock siesta before heading out again at night. Highlights of or after dark escapades included an amazing steak and wine meal in a restaurant called 'dos hermanos' where my friend Beth selflessly sliced her foot open on the stairs in order to get us all free dessert, and a club night in the Palermo district with Erol Alkan dj ing until 6.30 in the morning. A big thanks to my good friend Mr Gibbs for great company and hospitality, and a life changing bowl of cereal.....really appreciated it.
We left Buenos Aires by boat at 7am, and while my friends slept, I sat at the front like a little child and watched as we approached the coastline of Uruguay. Having arrived at our hostel we tried to make the best of our limited time frame by wandering to the seafront and exploring as much of the old town as possible. The hostel itself was pretty nice and they cooked a big barbecue that night as we watched the last chilean miners being rescued. While the situation was slightly different, I was nevertheless hoping for an equally joyful reception on my return to Florianopolis the following day
The journey to B.A. did turn out to be a bit of a let down, the lavish champagne buffet i had conjured up in my mind turned out to be a little optimistic, and instead we were offered an assortment of cheese based snacks with crackers and a bit of ham on a stick. Luckily there was also some pasta going round which i thought was pretty good. My Italian friend (who due to his heritage is a bit of a pasta snob) thought differently however, refusing to eat his portion saying 'this is nota how youa makea de bolognese' before adding 'babadibooppi' for effect.
I also decided on the journey that it would be a good idea to send an email to the man i will be working for in Buenos Aires, letting him know that i would be visiting the city. I don't know what i was hoping for, maybe a reply saying 'oh muy bien, lets go for drinks and a really nice meal (which i'll pay for) and then i can tell you what to see in the city and introduce you to some nice young argentinian girls' but unfortunately what i got instead was 'oh muy bien, come for an interview as soon as you arrive.' So after dumping my stuff at the hostel and donning my one remaining clean t shirt, i headed down to the offices on the riverfront.
The interview itself was a bit of a disaster, having put 'advanced level of spanish' on my CV my boss must have been surprised to hear his beloved mother tongue shamelessly blended with a coulourful assortment of other words, some portuguese and english and others just made up altogether. However, i'm taking the fact that he didn't withdraw his offer of employment on the spot, as a big positive.
After this rather stressful beginning, the days began to take on an altogether more relaxed shape. We spent most of the day time exploring the various 'barrios' (districts) of the city, sitting in the sun drinking beer and watching tango and visiting as many markets as was physically possible in order to maximise the benefits of the extremely good pound to peso exchange rate. I came to realise that one impulse purchase can start a whole string of other impulse purchases, until you end up back at the hostel lamenting your empty wallet and trying to remember why you bought that giant picture of a cow, or that lifetime supply of dulce de leche. Some of the group's best purchases included; a llama wool, poncho, a chessboard, an occarina, an indigenous flute, some salami, some incense, a variety of interesting hats, several football shirts, a lot of red wine and one very expensive glass of coke.
Buenos Aires is a bit of a football mad city, so when we weren't buying strange souveniers, we tried to take in as much football related culture as possible. Our big hope had been to see a Boca Juniors game, but as they were playing away from home we had to make do with visiting the stadium. Generally speaking i'm not a big fan of stadium tours as they usually involve walking through room after room showing lengthly black and white films about the construction of new stands. However in this case we were shown straight to the pitch where us four boys unashamedly paid to take the cheesey photo standing on the pitch holding various trophies. It was 100 percent worth it (although i did have my suspicions it might not be the official world cup i had in my hands).
As there was no Boca game we headed off to see River Plate (Buenos Aires' other big team). We went with a group, as we were told that it could be dangerous for tourists to go without a local. It turned out to be a good decision. We were waiting in the queue to enter the stadium with our guide who happened to look and act incredibly like Mr Bean, when a rather strange and drunk individual began to try and shove his hand in to my friend Nick's pocket, letting out loud grunts as he went. The guy, on whom we bestowed the appropriate if not very imaginative title of 'pocket man', would have probably continued this strange activity for some time (despite Nick not having any valuables in his pockets) had Bean not saved the day. After a short conversation which i assume involved bean informing pocket man of the inappropriate nature of his actions Nick and his pockets were left alone for the remainder of the afternoon. The game itself was quite exciting despite it ending as a draw, and the experience of being in such a huge stadium with such a great atmosphere was pretty incredible.
With so much going on in the daytime, we usually hit a 6 o'clock siesta before heading out again at night. Highlights of or after dark escapades included an amazing steak and wine meal in a restaurant called 'dos hermanos' where my friend Beth selflessly sliced her foot open on the stairs in order to get us all free dessert, and a club night in the Palermo district with Erol Alkan dj ing until 6.30 in the morning. A big thanks to my good friend Mr Gibbs for great company and hospitality, and a life changing bowl of cereal.....really appreciated it.
We left Buenos Aires by boat at 7am, and while my friends slept, I sat at the front like a little child and watched as we approached the coastline of Uruguay. Having arrived at our hostel we tried to make the best of our limited time frame by wandering to the seafront and exploring as much of the old town as possible. The hostel itself was pretty nice and they cooked a big barbecue that night as we watched the last chilean miners being rescued. While the situation was slightly different, I was nevertheless hoping for an equally joyful reception on my return to Florianopolis the following day
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Iguazu falls - not just a glorified tap - my travels part 1
Before i begin i would like to sincerely apologise for my lack of recent blogging, I have spent most of october 'gallavanting around south america' as my good friend Rosie Durance put it. I was initially worried about having to explain my prolonged absence to my teachers. However having finally plucked up the courage to tell them, their general reaction was not 'are you taking the piss' as i had feared but instead 'go and enjoy yourself'. You've got to love the brazilian attitude to life. So after my final lecture of Brazilian history, where the old presentation competition got taken to a whole new level by a guy who wrote and performed a song based on the text about womens rights, i packed my bags and set off.
My trip began at Florianopolis central bus station, a building that made up for its uninspiring design by offering a superb range of chewy sweets. After making a bold selection of peach chewits, we boarded the 7pm PLUMA bus due to arrive at 8am the next morning. The journey itself was pretty relaxed and we met a young bristolian couple who were making the most of their redundancy packets to travel round the whole of South America. Chatting to them was definitely better than trying to watch avatar dubbed in portuguese. After a dinner stop at a shop offering bizarre religious artifacts as well as a dodgy looking buffet, I succesfully slept through the rockin of the bus and Sophie's snores, waking up just as we arrived in Foz de Iguazu, on the Brazilian side of the falls.
After a quick breakfast of peach chewits we headed straight to the falls. I will admit at this stage that i had originally been pretty unfussed about seeing Iguazu, having been a longtime member of the 'nature shmature' school of thought. However as soon as we got off the bus i knew i had been mistaken, We followed the path onto a platform, dizzyingly suspended right over the edge of the falls and the beauty, the noise and the sheer power of the water were absolutely immense. I will freely admit i loved it. I only wish i hadn't had several cups of coffee with breakfast to wash down the rather soapy chewits, as i began to need the loo. As i'm sure you can imagine waiting in a long queue whilst millions of gallons of water are cascading next to you is not the most pleasant experience in the world.
After wandering a bit more and sharing a buffet lunch with a load of angry wasps we briefly visited the famous bird park. Whilst most of the animals were in cages, some of the more tranquil birds were housed in big aviaries which we were able to carefully enter. This greatly excited the gaggle of four year olds in front of us, who tried their best to 'interact' with the toucans, much to their teachers horror. Other highlights included flamingos, tropical parrots, and even an alligator which makes me think that the brazilian classification of 'bird' is a little wider than our own. Either that or the savage bastard had just wandered in and eaten the bird that previously resided there.
Sightseeing completed, we then got a van over to Puerto Iguazu on the argentinian side of the falls where our hostel for the night was located. The weather was still beautiful so we went for a wander around the town before making best use of the great exchange rate to settle down for an awesome steak and wine dinner.
The following day we explored the Argentinian iguazu park, where the general theme of waterfall continued, although we were able to get onto a boat trip that went right under the falls. We all expected to end up soaking wet, but their is nothing less reassuring than seeing the crew of the boat your in don wetsuits and wellingtons when your in shorts and t-shirts. In any case it was seriously good fun, a must do for any of you thinking of visiting Iguazu.
After returning to the hostel that evening i went in search of an atm, only to find that my card had been blocked. After calling the Barclays 24 hour help service, I was transferred to a man in India who was suppposed to help me resolve this issue. Having given him my card number, my home address, my mother's maiden name, the name of my first pet, my brother's shoe size and my dad's golfing handicap he told me he still needed to prove I was who i said i was by anwsering a question about my account.
'can you tell me about a recent transaction?' he said
'i took out some money two days ago' i replied
'how much?'
'about £50'
'at what time?'
'about middday i guess'
'would you say closer to 11:45 or 12:15?'
'i have no idea'
'roughly?'
At this point i had to restrain myself from throwing my phone against the wall and instead calmly managed to persuade him i was not an impostor, I just didn't have a watch.
'Ok so you in Uruguay'
'no Argentina'
'but you say Uruguay'
'Im going there after'
'Ok so I put Argentina then Uruguay in system, will that be in South America at all?'
'almost entirely' (i don't think he got the sarcasm)
'ok thats fine Mr Englander, i have registered that change to your second account'
'no thats my savings account, i want to change my current account'
'no its not savings'
'yes it is savings'
'no its not'
'yes it is'
'look im not having an argument about whether my savings account is actually a savings account, please just put the changes onto my other account'
'very well Mr Englander, anything else i can help you with?'
'No'
While it might make sound economic success, I have now realised how much I hate outsourcing.
That night, as it was our friend Joe's 22nd Birthday we decided to hit a few bars before wandering to the towns only club 'Cuba Libre'. We were joined by a man from our hostel called Nick who turned out not to be a rapist or murderer as we had originally feared but instead just really really odd. He spent most of the night, criticising our taste in wine, plying us with drinks and trying to force Joe (who was pretty much passed out on the dancefloor) to dance salsa. It was still a great night summed up by Joe when asked to describe his birthday in one word on the journey home. 'Gggett oouuuttt' he replied.
We had most of the following day to kill before our evening bus to Buenos Aires so we decided to cross the border to Ciudad del Este, Paraguay. We were told that people mainly visit the city for the stamp in the passport or for cheap shopping. So having got the stamp, bought various pairs of sunglasses and sports socks, had a photo taken with some pretty grumpy policemen and managed to escape from a man determined to sell us singing condoms we returned to our hostel in Puerto Iguazu in time to confirm our bus tickets.
I was particulairly excited for the journey as beer, wine and champagne were all included in the £50 ticket as well as a delicious hot dinner and breakfast. I just hoped it wasn't too good to be true....
My trip began at Florianopolis central bus station, a building that made up for its uninspiring design by offering a superb range of chewy sweets. After making a bold selection of peach chewits, we boarded the 7pm PLUMA bus due to arrive at 8am the next morning. The journey itself was pretty relaxed and we met a young bristolian couple who were making the most of their redundancy packets to travel round the whole of South America. Chatting to them was definitely better than trying to watch avatar dubbed in portuguese. After a dinner stop at a shop offering bizarre religious artifacts as well as a dodgy looking buffet, I succesfully slept through the rockin of the bus and Sophie's snores, waking up just as we arrived in Foz de Iguazu, on the Brazilian side of the falls.
After a quick breakfast of peach chewits we headed straight to the falls. I will admit at this stage that i had originally been pretty unfussed about seeing Iguazu, having been a longtime member of the 'nature shmature' school of thought. However as soon as we got off the bus i knew i had been mistaken, We followed the path onto a platform, dizzyingly suspended right over the edge of the falls and the beauty, the noise and the sheer power of the water were absolutely immense. I will freely admit i loved it. I only wish i hadn't had several cups of coffee with breakfast to wash down the rather soapy chewits, as i began to need the loo. As i'm sure you can imagine waiting in a long queue whilst millions of gallons of water are cascading next to you is not the most pleasant experience in the world.
After wandering a bit more and sharing a buffet lunch with a load of angry wasps we briefly visited the famous bird park. Whilst most of the animals were in cages, some of the more tranquil birds were housed in big aviaries which we were able to carefully enter. This greatly excited the gaggle of four year olds in front of us, who tried their best to 'interact' with the toucans, much to their teachers horror. Other highlights included flamingos, tropical parrots, and even an alligator which makes me think that the brazilian classification of 'bird' is a little wider than our own. Either that or the savage bastard had just wandered in and eaten the bird that previously resided there.
Sightseeing completed, we then got a van over to Puerto Iguazu on the argentinian side of the falls where our hostel for the night was located. The weather was still beautiful so we went for a wander around the town before making best use of the great exchange rate to settle down for an awesome steak and wine dinner.
The following day we explored the Argentinian iguazu park, where the general theme of waterfall continued, although we were able to get onto a boat trip that went right under the falls. We all expected to end up soaking wet, but their is nothing less reassuring than seeing the crew of the boat your in don wetsuits and wellingtons when your in shorts and t-shirts. In any case it was seriously good fun, a must do for any of you thinking of visiting Iguazu.
After returning to the hostel that evening i went in search of an atm, only to find that my card had been blocked. After calling the Barclays 24 hour help service, I was transferred to a man in India who was suppposed to help me resolve this issue. Having given him my card number, my home address, my mother's maiden name, the name of my first pet, my brother's shoe size and my dad's golfing handicap he told me he still needed to prove I was who i said i was by anwsering a question about my account.
'can you tell me about a recent transaction?' he said
'i took out some money two days ago' i replied
'how much?'
'about £50'
'at what time?'
'about middday i guess'
'would you say closer to 11:45 or 12:15?'
'i have no idea'
'roughly?'
At this point i had to restrain myself from throwing my phone against the wall and instead calmly managed to persuade him i was not an impostor, I just didn't have a watch.
'Ok so you in Uruguay'
'no Argentina'
'but you say Uruguay'
'Im going there after'
'Ok so I put Argentina then Uruguay in system, will that be in South America at all?'
'almost entirely' (i don't think he got the sarcasm)
'ok thats fine Mr Englander, i have registered that change to your second account'
'no thats my savings account, i want to change my current account'
'no its not savings'
'yes it is savings'
'no its not'
'yes it is'
'look im not having an argument about whether my savings account is actually a savings account, please just put the changes onto my other account'
'very well Mr Englander, anything else i can help you with?'
'No'
While it might make sound economic success, I have now realised how much I hate outsourcing.
That night, as it was our friend Joe's 22nd Birthday we decided to hit a few bars before wandering to the towns only club 'Cuba Libre'. We were joined by a man from our hostel called Nick who turned out not to be a rapist or murderer as we had originally feared but instead just really really odd. He spent most of the night, criticising our taste in wine, plying us with drinks and trying to force Joe (who was pretty much passed out on the dancefloor) to dance salsa. It was still a great night summed up by Joe when asked to describe his birthday in one word on the journey home. 'Gggett oouuuttt' he replied.
We had most of the following day to kill before our evening bus to Buenos Aires so we decided to cross the border to Ciudad del Este, Paraguay. We were told that people mainly visit the city for the stamp in the passport or for cheap shopping. So having got the stamp, bought various pairs of sunglasses and sports socks, had a photo taken with some pretty grumpy policemen and managed to escape from a man determined to sell us singing condoms we returned to our hostel in Puerto Iguazu in time to confirm our bus tickets.
I was particulairly excited for the journey as beer, wine and champagne were all included in the £50 ticket as well as a delicious hot dinner and breakfast. I just hoped it wasn't too good to be true....
Sunday, October 3, 2010
2 months in Brazil.....so im off to Argentina
This weekend, something fairly important is happening here in Brazil. Sunday 3rd of October 2010 is the official date for the general election and its creating quite a buzz around the University. Campaigning here principally comes in one of two forms, the first of which involves waving large flags in people's faces. Now i don't have anything against getting a bit of flag in the face for a good reason, i just wish they would have asked whether i was actually entitled to vote before invading my personal space. The second seems to be a game of who can stick up their candidate's face on the most billboards around the island, obviously hoping to sway the indecisive voter who thinks 'he/she may have no political experience and be facing allegations of corruption, but i have seen their face a lot recently and that reassures me'. If it works then fair play to them.
As far as the result is concerned, I have been informed by several locals that it is a foregone conclusion in favour of a woman named Rousseff, representing the same party as the outgoing Lula. (im yet to work out whether this is because the candidate is extremely good, or whether its just that the elections are a little bit fraudy). Anyway it should be an interesting day with America's golfing demise at the hands of Colin Montgomerie's Europe providing the rest of the entertainment.
More importantly for me however, Sunday 3rd of October also marks 2 months of residence in Florianopolis. In many ways i still feel like i have just arrived, and while this may be because some people still look at me as if im from the planet zog when im trying to speak portuguese, I prefer to think of it as linked to the whole 'time flies when your having fun' thing. And it has been a lot of fun.
.
One undoubted highlight of the last two weeks was a churrasco hosted by some of our portuguese friends from the university. Their rooftop apartment overlooking the sea on avenue Beira-mar (the posh bit of floripa) was an absolute banger. Great food, great sangria and plenty of portuguese spoken. Here's hoping they have another one soon.
I think being on the terrace of such a posh appartment gave us delusions of grandeur because a few days later we decided to visit 'Churrasceria Floripana', reputedly one of the best restaurants on the island. As a roup of 20, we paid 50 reais per person (eek) for the all you can eat option, but it was well worth it. In addition to a full sushi, salad and dessert bar, the highlights of which included salmon roll, california roll, couscous, sundried tomatoes, spicy prawns and creme caramel (thankfully not mixed together), the waiters brought pasta, risotto and massive skewers of barbecued meats to the table (presumably so we didn't waste any of the calories by getting up.) 'I'm going to open an identical one in England' i thought as i rolled home.
In order to burn off the accumulated calories with illustrious dancemoves, we went to all three of the big university organised 'festas.'
They had several things in common;
1) obscure, distant but ultimately awesome location
2) attractive brazilian girls with bizzarely high heels (im not insecure about my height....honest)
3) at least one justin bieber song (my mate giovanni loves a bit of bieber)
4) open bar
As far as im concerned an open bar or 'openbar' as its known in portuguese is a very good concept, you can get nicely sloshed without selling a vital organ, and you can pretend like your buying drinks for girls by going up to the bar and getting free drinks on their behalf. The only potential problem comes if your group of mates decides to get to the night really early in order to make the most of the openbar, and then you drink 10 caipirinhas in an hour because no-one else is there yet, because its still before 10pm, causing you to spend the rest of the night making an absolute idiot of yourself by staggering around speaking and some kind of slurred dialect meant to be portuguese which no-one can understand....or thats what i've been told.
In any case, the third of these festas deserves to be mentioned in its own right. Hosted by the arquitecture department, the theme was 'pop art' which was taken to mean 'any kind of bizarre fancy dress'. People really went all out with their costumes and it was a cracking night, not least because a big group of us decided to dress as 'where's wally' which rather ironically meant it was very easy to find everyone.
Getting there and back from these nights was also very easy thanks to a van service from the university that acted like a moving house party on the way and only smelled slightly of sick on the way back. This example of transport efficiency is however an anomoly. In general getting around the island is a bit of a nightmare unless you have bought a car, know someone that has a car or have stolen a car (the preferred policy of the favella dwellers) . This is because the bus system is about as easy to understand as the mandarin language guide to hydraulic brake construction.
Problems i have with the bus:
1) The bus routes are designed for scenic appreciation rather than speed
2) Many buses have very similiar names and go completely different places
3) Many of the drivers can't drive; lamposts hit, pavements mounted etc.
4) The buses are often full but standing up is impossible because they drive so badly
5) Buses are ridiculously irregular on weekends.
This last grievance was provoked one weekend when a group of us set out to trek to a secluded beach, only reachable by trail. There are few things more annoying than getting up really early on a hangover, and then waiting almost two hours for the bus, which we needed to take us to the start of the trail. When we eventually got there the trail was awesome, the weather was beautiful and the beach was almost deserted. I say almost because there was one individual on the far side of the beach ( pause to clear throat) 'enjoying' himself. Im not sure whether it was a genuine 'bad time' or just a performance for our benefit. Needless to say it spoiled the view a tad.
Coming back to the bus issue, the one redeeming feature of the entire system seemed to be a student bus card similiar to an oyster card. However for some reason the card can only be topped up once a month from an office in the centre. At the time of registering for the card, I tried to explain to the woman in the office why this wasn't practical for the consumer but im not sure she understood/cared. When it came to topping up my card last week, I obediently went to the centre and waited patiently for my turn for about half an hour. When i was finally shown to a counter i was told by the attendant that i didn't have the necessary documentation, despite me having my student ID with me. At this point, with steam practicaly billowing from my ears, I considered several courses of action. In order to avoid the federal police, I eventually restrained myself from setting the entire building on fire, and decided instead that stealing her pen and buying myself an ice cream would suffice. A moral victory, only slightly lessened by the fact im still going have to go back next week to try again.
In other news, im off travelling tomorrow so you may not hear from me in a while. I've decided that the immense stress of all my work and lectures means i am entitled to a 10 day holiday, of exploration, sightseeing and general debauchery. The current plan is to make a triangle trip to Iguazu falls, Buenos Aires, Montevideo and Punto del Este returning back to Floripa just in time to don my leiderhosen, change my name to henrik von inglunder and hit the Oktoberfest (the one held here is the biggest outside of munich). Should be quite hectic all in all, but i will try and write a blog update when i can...
you stay classy san diego
As far as the result is concerned, I have been informed by several locals that it is a foregone conclusion in favour of a woman named Rousseff, representing the same party as the outgoing Lula. (im yet to work out whether this is because the candidate is extremely good, or whether its just that the elections are a little bit fraudy). Anyway it should be an interesting day with America's golfing demise at the hands of Colin Montgomerie's Europe providing the rest of the entertainment.
More importantly for me however, Sunday 3rd of October also marks 2 months of residence in Florianopolis. In many ways i still feel like i have just arrived, and while this may be because some people still look at me as if im from the planet zog when im trying to speak portuguese, I prefer to think of it as linked to the whole 'time flies when your having fun' thing. And it has been a lot of fun.
.
One undoubted highlight of the last two weeks was a churrasco hosted by some of our portuguese friends from the university. Their rooftop apartment overlooking the sea on avenue Beira-mar (the posh bit of floripa) was an absolute banger. Great food, great sangria and plenty of portuguese spoken. Here's hoping they have another one soon.
I think being on the terrace of such a posh appartment gave us delusions of grandeur because a few days later we decided to visit 'Churrasceria Floripana', reputedly one of the best restaurants on the island. As a roup of 20, we paid 50 reais per person (eek) for the all you can eat option, but it was well worth it. In addition to a full sushi, salad and dessert bar, the highlights of which included salmon roll, california roll, couscous, sundried tomatoes, spicy prawns and creme caramel (thankfully not mixed together), the waiters brought pasta, risotto and massive skewers of barbecued meats to the table (presumably so we didn't waste any of the calories by getting up.) 'I'm going to open an identical one in England' i thought as i rolled home.
In order to burn off the accumulated calories with illustrious dancemoves, we went to all three of the big university organised 'festas.'
They had several things in common;
1) obscure, distant but ultimately awesome location
2) attractive brazilian girls with bizzarely high heels (im not insecure about my height....honest)
3) at least one justin bieber song (my mate giovanni loves a bit of bieber)
4) open bar
As far as im concerned an open bar or 'openbar' as its known in portuguese is a very good concept, you can get nicely sloshed without selling a vital organ, and you can pretend like your buying drinks for girls by going up to the bar and getting free drinks on their behalf. The only potential problem comes if your group of mates decides to get to the night really early in order to make the most of the openbar, and then you drink 10 caipirinhas in an hour because no-one else is there yet, because its still before 10pm, causing you to spend the rest of the night making an absolute idiot of yourself by staggering around speaking and some kind of slurred dialect meant to be portuguese which no-one can understand....or thats what i've been told.
In any case, the third of these festas deserves to be mentioned in its own right. Hosted by the arquitecture department, the theme was 'pop art' which was taken to mean 'any kind of bizarre fancy dress'. People really went all out with their costumes and it was a cracking night, not least because a big group of us decided to dress as 'where's wally' which rather ironically meant it was very easy to find everyone.
Getting there and back from these nights was also very easy thanks to a van service from the university that acted like a moving house party on the way and only smelled slightly of sick on the way back. This example of transport efficiency is however an anomoly. In general getting around the island is a bit of a nightmare unless you have bought a car, know someone that has a car or have stolen a car (the preferred policy of the favella dwellers) . This is because the bus system is about as easy to understand as the mandarin language guide to hydraulic brake construction.
Problems i have with the bus:
1) The bus routes are designed for scenic appreciation rather than speed
2) Many buses have very similiar names and go completely different places
3) Many of the drivers can't drive; lamposts hit, pavements mounted etc.
4) The buses are often full but standing up is impossible because they drive so badly
5) Buses are ridiculously irregular on weekends.
This last grievance was provoked one weekend when a group of us set out to trek to a secluded beach, only reachable by trail. There are few things more annoying than getting up really early on a hangover, and then waiting almost two hours for the bus, which we needed to take us to the start of the trail. When we eventually got there the trail was awesome, the weather was beautiful and the beach was almost deserted. I say almost because there was one individual on the far side of the beach ( pause to clear throat) 'enjoying' himself. Im not sure whether it was a genuine 'bad time' or just a performance for our benefit. Needless to say it spoiled the view a tad.
Coming back to the bus issue, the one redeeming feature of the entire system seemed to be a student bus card similiar to an oyster card. However for some reason the card can only be topped up once a month from an office in the centre. At the time of registering for the card, I tried to explain to the woman in the office why this wasn't practical for the consumer but im not sure she understood/cared. When it came to topping up my card last week, I obediently went to the centre and waited patiently for my turn for about half an hour. When i was finally shown to a counter i was told by the attendant that i didn't have the necessary documentation, despite me having my student ID with me. At this point, with steam practicaly billowing from my ears, I considered several courses of action. In order to avoid the federal police, I eventually restrained myself from setting the entire building on fire, and decided instead that stealing her pen and buying myself an ice cream would suffice. A moral victory, only slightly lessened by the fact im still going have to go back next week to try again.
In other news, im off travelling tomorrow so you may not hear from me in a while. I've decided that the immense stress of all my work and lectures means i am entitled to a 10 day holiday, of exploration, sightseeing and general debauchery. The current plan is to make a triangle trip to Iguazu falls, Buenos Aires, Montevideo and Punto del Este returning back to Floripa just in time to don my leiderhosen, change my name to henrik von inglunder and hit the Oktoberfest (the one held here is the biggest outside of munich). Should be quite hectic all in all, but i will try and write a blog update when i can...
you stay classy san diego
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
A continental breakfast...why not
This week´s blog sees me writing from a different location. I would love to tell you that i am currently seated at a beach side bar, sipping a cold beer and watching a group of locals dancing samba while i muse over the last couple of weeks, but it would be a big old fib. No, as i sit here on monday morning my surroundings are slightly less picturesque. The university computer room was rightly designed for practicality rather than for architectural acclaim, but its fair to say it doesn´t inspire me with quite the same creativity as the view of the rolling hills and colourful houses from the balcony where i write at home. But given my academic surroundings, I shall take the opportunity to talk a little bit about my classes.
I am finding that my Brazilian history class is suprisingly enjoyable. I say suprisingly for two reasons, firstly because someone decided that the best time for it to take place was at 8.20 on a monday morning, and secondly because its in portuguese. However, there are several factors that make it a good class.
1. Quite a lot of cool stuff has happened in Brazil in the 500 years since it was discovered (apart from slavery...that wasn´t cool...bloody portuguese)
2. The lecturer knows what he is talking about, cracks jokes and does impressions of Iracema (a major female brazilian literary figure)
3. I understand whats going on even though its all in portuguese (polite applause)
4. Each week a group of four students gives a presentation.
Unlike England where 'presentation' means 'read out loud four pages from the book we all bought because it was on top of the reading list and had the word general in it', here in Brazil they are taken very seriously. If we take for example the last presentation I saw which was on slavery, the group spoke for 45 minutes with a fully illustrated powerpoint. In addition they made and handed out some kind of bean concoction that was typically eaten by slaves of the period. Not exactly what i fancied at that time of the morning, but i appreciated the mark earning gesture. The highlight however was still to come as the group finished the presentation with a short video interview with a woman descended from a slave. Whilst i may not agree with their method for getting this video, namely by stopping every black person they saw in the street and asking 'are you related to any slaves', the clip provided a valuable insight into the subject matter.
My portuguese for foreigners class on the other hand is unsurprisingly unenjoyable. The teacher is very nice, but as she explained on the first day, she doesn't know much about grammar....which i guess is fine..... if your not paying to learn grammar....which I am. In addition the people in our class are all at diffferent levels despite the level establishing exam we did on the first day. Im guessing that those in charge in the department, having already hit the caipirinhas, decided to facilitate their job by putting anyone who knew more than 3 words in portuguese, but weren't fluent, into my class. The only redeeming feature of the entire thing is the bizarre but irrelevant fact that 25% of the group are called Chris. (There is also a woman that looks like she might have been called chris before a rather painful and expensive operation, but this is mere speculation)
Speaking more generally, i have began to notice some differences between my classes here and my lectures back in Bristol;
1. The earliest class starts at 7.30 am and the last finishes at 10pm (enough to make anyone feel slightly suicidal)
2. Classes can be up to 4 hours in length (enough to make anyone feel very suicidal ... especially if like me they are the sort of guy who checks his watch from about 20 minutes in)
3. If the teacher doesn't fancy turning up he won't
4. People here have a different concept of what is meant by 'class time'.
It is fair to say students here take a more relaxed approach to their lectures, arriving in general about 10-20 minutes late. However it is not uncommon for people to wander in much later (the record i've seen is 1 hour and a half). Once inside the lecture room, brazilians feel no obligation to sit quietly and listen, on the contrary people chat, flirt, wander round the class, listen to ipod's, and leave and come back later without any explanation. However there have been two moments in class that in terms of hilarity and sheer audacity, outweigh all these others.
Firstly, about halfway through a lecture, a loud and embarrasing ringtone reverberated throughout the class. Instead of apologising and switching his phone to silent, the guy responsible answered and preceeded to have a conversation that went something like 'hi...yeah, just in class....not really....haha..yeah i know.....yeah...alright see you then...ciao' (aproximate translation). The lecturer couldn't have looked less bothered.
Secondly, in a cinema class which had started unusually promptly, a young man who had to be fair arrived on time, stood up and left the room after about 15 minutes, only to return 20 minutes later with a full continental breakfast of coffee, juice, croissant and fruit salad which he preceeded to lay out in front of him on the desk and slowly munch his way through. Again no reaction from the lecturer....I only wish i'd had my camera.
Leaving lessons behind (sadly without returning with breakfast), I finally went some way to acheiving my goal of being alternative by hitting a reggae festival at night on the north of the island. The journey alone merited the ticket price. Having asked some vaguely jamaican looking people if they knew the way to the gig, we ended up at the back of a bus where we struck up an immediate friendship with a group of thirty brazilian reggae enthusiasts, and joined them in drinking, singing and dancing.
When we got to the festival we were stopped and frisked by bouncers at the door, whom i guess were aiming to prevent anyone with drugs entering the festival. However searching people for drugs at a reggae festival is a bit like searching women for bizarrely tall hats at the doors of Royal Ascot, and judging by the potent smell of marajuana eminating from the venue, i'm guessing a degree of leniancy was adopted. The music was awesome with a group called 'Alpha Blondie' headlining, and dj's and other reggae groups playing well into the early hours. I was only slightly underprepared for the icy nightime winds as my portuguese had once again let me down. I had read the venue's online description as 'an inside arena that crates the illusion of being outside'. I subsequently discovered that it was an 'outside arena that creates the illusion of being inside.' Oh well. Overall though a great 'alternative' night was had by all. Perhaps i'll finally be accepted into the Dojo's wednesday crew in Bristol. Probably not though.
As for my new office, i am sad to report it has proved less than satisfactory. I have already been told off for talking too loudly, drinking and putting two chairs by one computer, an apparently heinous crime despite the fact that 80% of the chairs in here are currently vacant. Although i have managed to persuade the attendant not to call the federal police, i think I will be writing from home in the future.
Until then....
I am finding that my Brazilian history class is suprisingly enjoyable. I say suprisingly for two reasons, firstly because someone decided that the best time for it to take place was at 8.20 on a monday morning, and secondly because its in portuguese. However, there are several factors that make it a good class.
1. Quite a lot of cool stuff has happened in Brazil in the 500 years since it was discovered (apart from slavery...that wasn´t cool...bloody portuguese)
2. The lecturer knows what he is talking about, cracks jokes and does impressions of Iracema (a major female brazilian literary figure)
3. I understand whats going on even though its all in portuguese (polite applause)
4. Each week a group of four students gives a presentation.
Unlike England where 'presentation' means 'read out loud four pages from the book we all bought because it was on top of the reading list and had the word general in it', here in Brazil they are taken very seriously. If we take for example the last presentation I saw which was on slavery, the group spoke for 45 minutes with a fully illustrated powerpoint. In addition they made and handed out some kind of bean concoction that was typically eaten by slaves of the period. Not exactly what i fancied at that time of the morning, but i appreciated the mark earning gesture. The highlight however was still to come as the group finished the presentation with a short video interview with a woman descended from a slave. Whilst i may not agree with their method for getting this video, namely by stopping every black person they saw in the street and asking 'are you related to any slaves', the clip provided a valuable insight into the subject matter.
My portuguese for foreigners class on the other hand is unsurprisingly unenjoyable. The teacher is very nice, but as she explained on the first day, she doesn't know much about grammar....which i guess is fine..... if your not paying to learn grammar....which I am. In addition the people in our class are all at diffferent levels despite the level establishing exam we did on the first day. Im guessing that those in charge in the department, having already hit the caipirinhas, decided to facilitate their job by putting anyone who knew more than 3 words in portuguese, but weren't fluent, into my class. The only redeeming feature of the entire thing is the bizarre but irrelevant fact that 25% of the group are called Chris. (There is also a woman that looks like she might have been called chris before a rather painful and expensive operation, but this is mere speculation)
Speaking more generally, i have began to notice some differences between my classes here and my lectures back in Bristol;
1. The earliest class starts at 7.30 am and the last finishes at 10pm (enough to make anyone feel slightly suicidal)
2. Classes can be up to 4 hours in length (enough to make anyone feel very suicidal ... especially if like me they are the sort of guy who checks his watch from about 20 minutes in)
3. If the teacher doesn't fancy turning up he won't
4. People here have a different concept of what is meant by 'class time'.
It is fair to say students here take a more relaxed approach to their lectures, arriving in general about 10-20 minutes late. However it is not uncommon for people to wander in much later (the record i've seen is 1 hour and a half). Once inside the lecture room, brazilians feel no obligation to sit quietly and listen, on the contrary people chat, flirt, wander round the class, listen to ipod's, and leave and come back later without any explanation. However there have been two moments in class that in terms of hilarity and sheer audacity, outweigh all these others.
Firstly, about halfway through a lecture, a loud and embarrasing ringtone reverberated throughout the class. Instead of apologising and switching his phone to silent, the guy responsible answered and preceeded to have a conversation that went something like 'hi...yeah, just in class....not really....haha..yeah i know.....yeah...alright see you then...ciao' (aproximate translation). The lecturer couldn't have looked less bothered.
Secondly, in a cinema class which had started unusually promptly, a young man who had to be fair arrived on time, stood up and left the room after about 15 minutes, only to return 20 minutes later with a full continental breakfast of coffee, juice, croissant and fruit salad which he preceeded to lay out in front of him on the desk and slowly munch his way through. Again no reaction from the lecturer....I only wish i'd had my camera.
Leaving lessons behind (sadly without returning with breakfast), I finally went some way to acheiving my goal of being alternative by hitting a reggae festival at night on the north of the island. The journey alone merited the ticket price. Having asked some vaguely jamaican looking people if they knew the way to the gig, we ended up at the back of a bus where we struck up an immediate friendship with a group of thirty brazilian reggae enthusiasts, and joined them in drinking, singing and dancing.
When we got to the festival we were stopped and frisked by bouncers at the door, whom i guess were aiming to prevent anyone with drugs entering the festival. However searching people for drugs at a reggae festival is a bit like searching women for bizarrely tall hats at the doors of Royal Ascot, and judging by the potent smell of marajuana eminating from the venue, i'm guessing a degree of leniancy was adopted. The music was awesome with a group called 'Alpha Blondie' headlining, and dj's and other reggae groups playing well into the early hours. I was only slightly underprepared for the icy nightime winds as my portuguese had once again let me down. I had read the venue's online description as 'an inside arena that crates the illusion of being outside'. I subsequently discovered that it was an 'outside arena that creates the illusion of being inside.' Oh well. Overall though a great 'alternative' night was had by all. Perhaps i'll finally be accepted into the Dojo's wednesday crew in Bristol. Probably not though.
As for my new office, i am sad to report it has proved less than satisfactory. I have already been told off for talking too loudly, drinking and putting two chairs by one computer, an apparently heinous crime despite the fact that 80% of the chairs in here are currently vacant. Although i have managed to persuade the attendant not to call the federal police, i think I will be writing from home in the future.
Until then....
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)