Cranky Carioca

Having only the most basic language skills in a foreign country is not unlike being a two-year-old. You know what you want but grunting, gesturing, and using all of your limited vocabulary just doesn´t seem to help. Yours truly nearly had a meltdown in her capoeira class yesterday afternoon.

The faux carioca had woken up in a foul humor and was crabbier than usual when she arrived to her language class that morning. It was only a matter of time before she lost patience with her impatient classmates who found her slow manner of speech impossible to listen to. Each time she began to speak the other students (more 'advanced' than she) talked over her. Finally she left the discussion to get a drink of water and collect herself so that she would remain civil. During this break she contemplated the delight she would experience in pretending to crack heads and ribs in capoeira class later that day. Sadly it was not to be. Somehow all coordination escaped her. This clumsiness resulted in extra attention from the mestre who yanked her limbs hither and thither and barked orders that she didn´t understand.

Only the day before your gentle blogger had been considering how charming it was to be yelled at in Portuguse. She thought to herself, "How much more charming to be yelled at in Portuguese than in English since I can´t understand a thing that´s being said." Not so this time around. The two-year-old's lack of comprehension and frustration at not being able to communicate made the faux carioca's lower lip quiver and her eyes well up with angry tears. Incidentally, this seems to be an effective way to frighten a black belt capoeirista though it does little for one's morale and self-esteem. In any case, she managed to avoid a full-blown tantrum. Still, this was by far one of the more unpleasant days thus far in Rio.

Your faux carioca knows how to take care of herself so instead of leftovers (aipim--more on that later) she went out to eat in a restaurant to forget about the day's irritations. Afterwards she went to a cafe and paid handsomely to eat a pastry that the worker had dropped to the floor. Yours truly saw her drop the pastry on the floor and asked if it had fallen. The worker looked the faux carioca straight in the eyes and lied. Baldly. Pleasantly. Rather than argue or simply leave, your delicate blogger accepted her defeat for the day and ate the pastry.

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One gentle reader wonders what real cariocas listen to in the way of music. People listen to hip hop (pronounced 'hippy hoppy'), rock ('chockey'), funk ('funky'). Do Brazilians listen to Bossa Nova? Somewhat. But it´s often very bad. Today the faux carioca heard a CD in a used music/book store that seemed to consist entirely of Bossa Nova versions of popular American music from the 70s and 80s including Donna Summer´s 'On the Radio.'

Tomorrow night the faux carioca is going to a nightclub to listen to traditional samba music. She promises to report back.

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Last Sunday was the faux carioca's first day of rest in weeks and weeks. What a delightful day it was! According to plan, the weather was perfect for the beach. Most of the day was spent at Posto 9. (The beaches in Rio are numbered.) Posto 9 is in Ipanema (near where the song 'The Girl from Ipanema' was written) and is known to be the gay beach. While there are a smattering of faghags and the random pairs of lesbians (for those of you who may not have heard, lesbians apparently only come in pairs unless one gets lost in the dryer and then the solitary lesbian is largely useless), Posto 9 is raining men. Europeans, men from North and South America, Brazilians. Mostly these men are frighteningly fit. The gay tourists take endless photos of the comely Brazilian men as they lie in the sand, frolick in the surf, bend over to pick something up, etc. I post no photos here because there are no doubt pages and pages of such stuff on the Internet for those interested. So the faux carioca passed the quiet Sunday afternoon watching the men watch each other.

After lounging and peeing in the ocean several times, the faux carioca went to the market for dinner. There she bought delicious fare from the Baianas--acarajé. Acarajé is a kind of open-faced sandwich that consists of a deep-fried ball of mashed beans. The ball is cut in half and slathered with hot sauce, some kind of lentil-type concoction, and vatapá. Vatapá is a mixture of shrimp, cashews, and tomato sauce that includes onions and various herbs. Delicious!

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Tonight a futebol (pronounced 'foo-chee-bol') game is on the agenda. The faux carioca trembles at the mania that awaits her.