29.03.16 - Cercando frango

Hail fellow well met, etc etc. It’s officially autumn here but still ruddy hot and prone to massive thunderstorms in the afternoon. No news on Lula either, but his provisional escape plans were leaked to the press the other day, which is never a good sign...

Having concluded my driving lessons on Wednesday with a highly illegal detour around the test course in the dead of night, I had an honest-to-god day off on Friday, what with it being Easter and all. Having spent most of it nursing a dead leg from Thursday’s football exertions, we went to the Parque Ibirapuera for a wander, although as soon as we opened the car doors the rain came down, so we only saw bits of it – a covered market, the outside of the Museum of Modern Art, a giant Louise Bourgeois spider, etc.

We then went on to the very posh JK Shopping Centre, which was full of artisanal chocolate shops and solid silver iguanas, not to mention a jewellers with a private elevator to the garage, so customers can avoid prying eyes on the way out. We stopped off for a triple-decker burger (absolutely the worst thing you can eat on Good Friday, apparently, but what’re you going to do) and a Haagen Dazs chocolate milkshake before heading home.

On Saturday we had some of Gaby’s girlfriends round for a gossip – I was expecting one of their boyfriends to turn up for a jam but he had been given his marching orders the week before, so I kept a low profile and made bread and caipirinhas for everyone. Got an Easter egg out of it though.

On Sunday we went to the in-laws for a traditional Easter feast of salted cod, which was rather awesome (cod’s gift to cuisine, you might say), followed by a prolonged nap and the World Curling Championships on TV, for some reason. And yesterday I went for a sun-dappled wander round the fancy Perdizes neighbourhood, near Gaby’s uni, in the absence of any actual work. Stumbled upon a park that was literally heaving with chickens, which was a first...

I have also made another compilation (on Youtube again, chock-full of un-Spotifiable gems, and ELO) and discovered another peach of a saying: “cercando frango”, a way of walking after one too many, similar in gait to someone trying to herd a chicken (or indeed the "dressage drunk").

Hope all well in the Flat 2.0, and let’s speak soon, yes? Yes.

Frod

22.03.16 - Pagar o pato

Hallooo from an increasingly autumnal São Paulo... 

As mentioned on our call last week, all is not well in the marble halls of Brasilia, with Lula getting sworn in as Chief of Staff on Thursday (pretty transparently to avoid a federal investigation), only to be sworn out again minutes later by Judge Buzz Killington, PC - nothing's happened since then as far as I can tell, but word on the street is he's done for as soon as Operation Carwash starts up again. Even my boss has given up on him, which is saying something.

It's a political rollercoaster so engrossing that the nation has stopped watching the novelas and instead hangs on the anchorman's every word. Pots and pans are at the ready for whenever Dilma appears onscreen. The government is offering $R30, a ham sandwich and a free ride into town to participate in pro-PT rallies. Social media is absolutely unbearable.  

I also got to the bottom of why photos of the protests on the Avenida Paulista invariably feature a large inflatable duck: it belongs to a protest group called "Não Vou Pagar o Pato", or "I will not pay the duck" - a fantastic expression for taking the fall for other people's (in this case, the government's) misdeeds. 

Apart from that, and a plane crashing into a house next to our local airfield, nothing has really happened of note since my last e-mail. So I will instead devote the rest of this one to an in-depth study of Wesley Safadão, the ubiquitous sertanejo pop sensation with a silly name (roughly = "Wesley Naughty"). 

I first became aware of him when he opened for even-more-ubiquitous sertanejo pop sensations Luan Santana and Jorge & Mateus at the annual Vila Mix festival down the road, on account of his afore-mentioned silly name, silly hair, silly clothes and the fact that he would constantly get the crowd to chant his own silly hashtag (#vaisafadao). 

He went on to become absolutely massive off the back of two hits, both of which are basically one long and annoyingly catchy chorus - "Aquele 1%" extols the virtues of pulling everyone and being generally naughty, while "Camarote" is specifically about having a great time at a club while the "worst woman in the world" who spurned him watches on wistfully from the VIP area. At one point he mentions drinking "gela" and "Cîroc" (beer and vodka, respectively), which I heard as "gelo" and "xarope" (Ribena on ice) - such a rubbish drink to order at a nightclub that I felt genuinely sorry for him and missed the point of the song entirely until I had it explained to me.

I downloaded one of his albums to put on the car iPod, at Gaby's request; turns out it's a live album in which he sings the first line of each song and then lets the audience (who aren't picked up by any microphones and are therefore completely silent on the recording) do the rest. It's so bad that I've provisionally vetoed going to his landmark gig at Villa Country next month (going to see José Gonzalez instead, which I'm sure will just as riotously fun). I also caught this painfully awkward exposé on Brazilian TV, following him on his first US tour as he wanders around Times Square and explains who he is to bemused tourists.

Despite his obvious awfulness I have a soft spot for old Wesley, and even took steps to dress up as him for a Carnaval event last month that we ended up not going to - I still have a wig, waistcoat and fake microphone should the occasion arise, although I have a feeling he will be completely forgotten by the next one. He may even be past it now, I mean I'm not exactly a lightning rod for Brazilian culture...

Next week - FP investigates Fred's post-World Cup career as a national pariah who is somehow still allowed to play football in Brazil, and tries to figure out exactly what's going on here. Plus it's Easter, so we may be up to something at the weekend, with talk of going to Curitiba, the country's greenest city. Watch this space...

Love,

Frod

15.03.16 - Animal de estimação

Bom dia! The birds are swaying, the trees are singing... 

Not a whole lot to report this week, with work taking centre stage and Gaby elbow-deep in psychology manuscripts... On Saturday I sought out a practice studio up the road which was rather fun - wolfing down a burger at a nearby '50s diner before strumming my way through the hits - although I had to strain to hear myself over the Pearl Jam cover band bleeding through from upstairs.

Then on Sunday I was all set to join Gaby and the in-laws to march on the Avenida Paulista and protest the government's evil machinations - the largest such rabble in the city's history, apparently - but had to stay at home instead and work all day on a vehemently anti-EU doctrine prepared by Patrick and his lawyer pals. Still, it looked impressive on the news/Facebook. 

Driving continues apace despite my instructor oversleeping yesterday and missing half the lesson - I've been deemed roadworthy on all aspects of the test individually, now it's just a case of putting it altogether into a seamless choreography, perhaps culminating in a triple backflip pike out the car window at the end.

Elsewhere I've made another fiendishly eclectic mix for your listening pleasure (https://play.spotify.com/user/freddypowys/playlist/6Z4HHnZDVSCAI0idQ4XAWX), and while I don't have a proverb this week, I thought it rather wonderful and worth sharing that in Portuguese, a pet is an "animal of estimation"...

Speak soon, on the happy occasion of your various birthdays. Até mais, Minas Gerais!

Fred

08.03.16 - Pisar na bola

Good morrow! 

A relatively quiet week on the Western front, as work and driving lessons continue apace - yesterday I started training an approximation of the 5-minute circuit I'll be doing for the test, which involves parking very slowly between two cones (a valuable life skill, no doubt) and doing lots of hill-starts, which I'm just about getting the hang of.

Taken during "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds",
when the drugs began to take hold.

On Saturday we went to the Sambadrome (by way of a baby shower for one of Gaby's mates, to efficiently distribute nappies and good cheer) for a "Carnaval Hangover" show involving Sargento Pimenta, the world's #1 Samba Beatles tribute band (probably), who were ruddy excellent and delved into the back catalogue with stuff like "I Want You (She's So Heavy)" and "I Am The Walrus" among the more well-known hits (a never-ending, multi-section romp through "Yellow Submarine" was a particular highlight). The evening then devolved into irritating EDM, but we made a hasty retreat and gorged on pizza at an all-night padaria, as was the style at the time.

On Sunday we drove to the gridlocked Avenida Paulista en famille for lunch with Ridaut's Etihad pilot chum Jean-Luc, who was in town between flights and allowed me to give my French a much-needed run-out over an all-you-can-eat buffet (and has invited us to his private beach in Abu-Dhabi, which is always nice). Then we met up with the extended family in an amazing new Italian food emporium called "Eataly", which was sadly wasted on me as I was already stuffed to the gills with dressed crab and chocolate mousse, but is definitely worth another visit at some point.

I have also returned to my compilation-making ways (https://play.spotify.com/user/freddypowys/playlist/1Sqvam8nfPKpc9Kmpzc25t), and have a new expression of the week, which means "to step on the ball", i.e. do something wrong which usually involves letting someone else down (or "drop the ball", if you will).

Hope all well in Antibes/St-Denis; what say you we speak on Thursday, weather and dust permitting? 

Ciao for now!

Fred Rum

01.03.16 - Nem pintado de ouro quero te ver

Guten tag, meine kartoffelkopf - hope all well across the Atlantic. 

The headline news here is that I've finally started my driving lessons, albeit at the crack of dawn and on alternating days only, due to scheduling difficulties and general bitterness and unrest at the driving school. So far I'm pleased to report that it's all coming back to me; I've only stalled the car a few times, my instructor has already invited me to stay at his brother's house in Rio, and is considering taking me out on the motorway during our next session, which is a little more advanced than I was led to believe but can only be a good sign. 

 On Saturday we were planning to walk to the Pedra Grande (or "Big Rock") overlooking the city but obviously it was raining, so we went for a stroll along the Avenida Paulista instead, stopping for burgers and a wander through the Livraria Cultural. We also visited the nearby Parque Trianon, which was very green and peaceful despite an abundance of massive spiders, which freaked Gaby out a bit and ultimately led us to fall back to the street. Then in the evening we ended up at an Irish pub, imaginatively called Dublin, quaffing Guinness as the house band pulled off a pretty decent cover of "Bohemian Rhapsody", among others.

Elsewhere work is rattling on at a fair pace - we're planning our next think tank knees-up at Cliveden House and are trying to arrange a date that suits everyone, probably mid-November. Gaby is a-mastering away; I made another coconut cake, which was a total success this time and has inspired me to further baking exploits (when I can be bothered to get round to them); and yesterday we watched a bit of Globo's coverage of the Oscars, which went viral once it became clear that the leading soap actress who was doing the commentary either didn't like, didn't understand or simply hadn't seen any of the films in contention. 

My saying of the day means "Even if you were painted in gold I wouldn't want to see you", which is a very vivid way of describing a falling-out (and a minor hit for the late accordion-botherer Cristiano Araújo, since you ask) - I like to imagine someone who's exhausted every possible way of winning someone back, and decides to paint himself gold as a last resort. I got it from my instructor, who was telling me about the ongoing feud between the driving school's owner and his son-in-law, although I missed the whole story as I was trying not to get run off the road at the time.

That's all for noo. Speak soon, bassoon!

Fredders