Greetings from the streets of old São Paulo - jolly good to speak the other day, and hope you're not letting the dust and/or cold get you down. Work is all go here, Gaby's started her Masters (and her therapy Facebook page, psychology fans), the cats have gone utterly mad, and otherwise all is well.
I also found time to tear up the Thursday night football form book, hitting a ruthless attacking streak with five goals in five games - we only won one, but twas all good fun plus I got talking to a fellow musician over post-game MEAT and BEER, and he's going to take me busking on the Avenida Paulista once my guitar is fixed.
On Friday I made a "bolo podre", or "rotten cake", plucked from the pages of Granny Diana's Brazilian cookbook; it was only moderately successful and fell apart once it left the mould, but I reckon the next one should be damn tasty - lots of coconut, vanilla, condensed milk and a rather yummy coffee drizzle (my nizzle).
At the weekend we went to the in-laws for savoury pancakes and passion fruit mousse, in between lots of flopping about; on Saturday we went to a rather posh Thai restaurant in town with Giorgio and Beth, for a rather nice fish curry and Aperol Spritz's as big as your head; and on Sunday night we went to the wake of Gaby's friend's uncle, which was rather sobering. Next weekend we're going to trek up to Pedra Branca (a big rock in the woods overlooking the whole city), then on to a Carnaval revival event, featuring Samba Beatles! Weather permitting.
Today's phrase is the equivalent of "better safe than sorry", but translates as "the safe man died of old age", which seems a slightly morbid way of putting it. And on that note...
Ciao for now!
Frow
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