26.04.16 - Chuva Roxa

Hallooo!

A slow week in the dying (but still extremely hot) throes of summer - we managed to make a break for the beach on Saturday, driving to Guarujá for the day for a paddle and bucketfuls of ice cream, which was most fun. Then on Sunday it was off to the in-laws - we came for the beef stroganoff, but stayed for the season premiere of Game of Thrones...

Otherwise work and Gaby's studies continue apace, I've set my next and hopefully last driving test for next week, and I'm very much looking forward to the rigorously-scheduled wedding coming up (as well as my birthday bash this weekend, the details of which are currently being withheld from me...). 

And I've been mourning Prince in the only way I know, by feverishly curating not one but two playlists (on Spotify and Youtube, respectively) which pay tribute as much as possible in this Prince-less digital age (although most of his music is unavailable on both platforms, he at least shows up to shred the living bejesus out of "While My Guitar Gently Weeps").

STOP PRESS: Turns out a bunch of songs have been uploaded in the past few days, so rather than ponder the ethics of the situation, I've cobbled together an all-Prince compilation as well. May it serve you well before it's taken down by the powers that be...

That's all for noo, let's speak soon!

(If I Was Your Girl)fred

19.04.16 - Mão de vaca

Hallooo! 

Not much to report on the personal front this week, but Dilma's chickens seem to be coming home to roost, as Sunday saw a Congress full of rowdy MPs voting 3-to-1 in favour of her impeachment. 

We watched most of it live on TV as it was frankly too bloody hot to hang around the Avenida Paulista all afternoon: over 500 Deputies voted one after the other, usually preceded by the waving of flags and an overblown speech to the President of the Chamber (himself under investigation, and subject to some pretty sick burns over the course of the evening). No one came out of it looking great, but now it's over to the Supreme Court and trial by FIRE (possibly); apparently Dilma has already admitted to cooking the books, it's just a matter of judging whether she did it in the national interest or for more nefarious reasons. 

I also learnt that one of "those clowns in Congress" is an actual clown, which amused me.

Otherwise the week was spent mostly eating: Gaby made her first ever chicken curry, and a damn good one too, we went to the legendary Speranza pizzeria on Saturday to scratch that elusive sausage-bread itch, and rounded the weekend off with a BBQ at Guilherme's flat, where we drank caipirinhas, discussed jigsaw-assembly techniques and were urged to have as many children as possible ASAP by a fellow guest. I also scored a Rashford-esque chip into the top corner during Thursday's kickabout, without even meaning to - a definite highlight.

No compilation this week, but there is a return to animal-themed expressions: in affairs of finance, tight-fistedness is referred to as having "mão de vaca", or "cow hands" (it's like a cow's opinion; it doesn't matter. It's moo.)

Hope England/Paris was fun. Speak soon!

Motorfred

12.04.16 - O bom filho a casa torna

Bom dia meus furões, and what an action-packed past few days it's been! 

On Thursday, having gone shopping for football boots with Ridaut (and actually found a pair that fit!) we went to pick up the the oft-spoken-about Doug, an affable Texan and avid Corinthians fan down from Dallas for an airliner conference and staying at the same hotel I went to when I first visited, for the weekly kickabout followed by steak, beer and much revelry in the local tavern.

I passed up a trip to the Corinthians training ground the next day, citing exhaustion after a hard week's toil, but rallied in the evening for dinner with Taynah and Rafa, followed by a bone fide gig in the centre of town. The event in question was an album launch by whimsical wordsmith woman Clarice Falcão, in the fetching setting of Ciné Joia (a refurbished former cinema with rather wild AV facilities) and while we didn't know any of the new songs, there were a few that stood out on first listen - including a "duet" with an empty mic stand meant for the guy who stood her up - a pirate-shanty Destiny's Child cover, and some golden oldies off the first album.

On Saturday we were on the road out of town bright and early to show Doug around the now-legendary Dr. Costela house of meat, which provided the wall-to-wall smorgasbord of slow-cooked ribs and good cheer I've come to expect, capped by a complimentary round or two of chimarrão tea for the road. Sadly there was no time to wander around nearby Embu das Artes as planned, but there's no point trying to top Dr. Costela anyway.

Finally on Sunday we went for a lad's day out to the Itaquerão Stadium, for my first ever Corinthians game - a functional 3-0 home win in a Campeonato Paulista dead rubber against Novorizontino, featuring two "golazos" by the marauding and unfortunately-named right-back Fagner. Very cool stadium - reminded me of the Emirates but with more atmosphere - and an awesome way to bring the weekend to a close (as opposed to the actual way I brought the weekend to a close, editing a document for work for four hours upon returning home).

It's still unnervingly hot at the moment, but when it cools down Ridaut and I have vowed to go cycling, since the council spends untold millions setting up temporary bike lanes every Sunday anyway; meanwhile I see cone-swerving driving lessons and back-stretching sessions in my near future; and this week should see some movement on the political front as deputies vote on Dilma's impeachment, to decide whether or not the matter goes to the Supreme Court. 

In the meantime, I've only gone and done another compilation (ft. the Steve Vai-tastic new single from M83 - they're from Antibes, don't you know); and my Portuguese phrase of the day is about people going back to tried-and-tested ways, or "the good son returning home" as someone (the Bible, probably) once put it. 

Let's speak soon - I only got your Skype messages from last week when I logged on yesterday, alas... 

Hope alles gut.

Frut

05.04.16 - O goleiro engoliu frango

Halloooo! 

After a quiet few weekends we went full-tourist on Saturday, with a guided bus tour round the city. God knows I needed some distraction after a disastrous first attempt to pass my driving test on Friday; having been crammed into a tiny car with five other students, lurched northwards through midday traffic and positioned on the outskirts of some kind of driving-school shanty town by the side of the road for hours on end, I was failed after about ten seconds for clipping the cone I was supposed to parallel-park behind, so now I have to wait another two weeks and go through the whole ordeal again.

Anyway, the tour was most fun, taking place on the top of a hollowed-out double-decker with trilingual commentary. It started, inauspiciously enough, next to the shell of the Portuguese Language Museum, which burnt down in December, and continued on to a particularly smelly main road nearby, but soon gathered steam and passed the Mercado Municipal, Praça da Republica and Pacaembu Stadium at a brisk pace. I would have liked a bit more time at each stop, but there was so much to see in so little time...

We alighted at the latter stop to have a pastel and visit the Museum of Football, located under the main stands of the stadium and full of interactive gizmos, an animatronic Pelé, plenty of background on how football came to Brazil, and of course lots of slang terms for my growing collection ("o goleiro engoliu frango", or "the goalie swallowed a chicken", refers to a particularly bad goalkeeping howler under no pressure...). I had a bit of a smirk in the room covering all the World Cups to date, as the 1998 section was conveniently "out of order", although to their credit the 7-1 defeat to Germany was on display, glitch-free. 

We concluded our trip by slotting a penalty past a virtual-reality keeper and hopping on to the next bus, which went down the Avenida Paulista to Ibirapuera Park, and back up past Liberdade (São Paulo's Chinatown), the Teatro Municipal, a replica of the city's first building, and back to the start and the Jardim da Luz. Then in the evening we ended up at a great jazz bar in Vila Madalena for pizza and caipirinhas, before heading back to bed. 

Meanwhile work continues apace, and I've churned out another playlist for your aural delight - I would recommend the Africaine 808 album in its entirety, as it happens. Very groovy.

Until the weather turns inclement in Volgograd, I bid you farewell, and speak soon 'n that.

Fred