29.11.16 - Papagaio come milho, periquito leva fama

Well helloooo,

Quite a week we've had, around all the time-consuming work stuff which I shan't bore you with here. On Wednesday I took my newly-restored-and-actually-working guitar out for a spin at the Garaffas open mic and had a gay old time, jamming with a French/Brazilian guy who seemed quite cool until he launched into an apparently unironic cover of "Don't Worry Be Happy"... 

The following night I curtailed my experimental spell in defensive midfield and scored a couple of screamers at the football, followed by the celebratory drinking of beer.  This was followed on Friday by yet more merry-making, at the same bar to boot, for the traditional end-of-year football get-together which involved unlimited grilled meat, two crates of Brahma, rabos de galo all round and an impromptu after-hours concert in the car park.  Good times were had by all, as far I can remember.

On Saturday we went to the Bourbon mall to do our monthly shop and watch "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" in full IMAX 4D glory, which wasn't the cynical Harry Potter cashgrab I was expecting, and was actually pretty impressive in 3D and bowel-loosening THX sound.  Then to round out the weekend, we went on a road-trip to Holambra, a Dutch colony a couple of hours inland from São Paulo and apparently the largest producer of flowers in Brazil. 

It turned out to be a bit of a damp squib - out of season, half empty and with a thunderstorm threatening to let loose overhead - but on the plus side I got to practice driving on the motorway (for hours and hours on the way back, once Waze dropped out, I missed a turn and ended up in an alternate reality where north was south and São Paulo apparently no longer existed) and try some torta holandesa next to a big windmill, in the company of nonplussed Dutch tourists. Crucially it meant we were out of the house when Palmeiras clinched their first league title in 22 years, although there were still plenty of parties and fireworks going on by the time we staggered home.

Et maintenant... I've gorn done another compilation, and have an absolute corker of a phrase-of-the-week: "the parrot eats the corn, the parakeet takes the blame".  See also: "quem faz fama deita na cama", which basically means "if the shoe fits...", and applies to those whose nefarious reputation (or "fama") precedes them.

Goodbye forever,

Fred Dwarf

22.11.16 - É o roto falando do esfarrapado

Halllooooo, and very nice it was to chat with you on Sunday... You're more or less up to speed, but for the benefit of my online readers, let me take you back to this time last week... Then take you forward a few days, since nothing much of note happened until Friday, which I spent juggling cats and baking cake, before heading into town for Gaby's birthday drinks, which were rather fun.  

On the way back we stopped off at an all-night padaria, for what turned out to be another impromptu mass date involving two of Gaby's friends and a gathering of suitors. All well and good, until two of them decided that a first date, with their suitee's highly judgemental friends in attendance, was the perfect setting for some seriously hardcore competitive eating. 

We watched on in amusement, then in amazement, then in abject horror as they systematically devoured two coxinhas the size of your head (pictured left, to scale), slathered in tabasco, in under ten minutes, thereby foregoing the bill but also losing our respect forever. Speaking as someone who used to routinely bring all-you-can-eat pizza places to the brink of bankruptcy, it was a bit much.  Apparently they followed it up by ordering a vat of açai for dessert, but we'd beaten a hasty retreat by that point...

The following day I laid on the charm with a homemade powdered milk cake (version 2.0, now with strawberry/MOUSSE filling) and a birthday song for Gaby, to the tune of Umbrella - it loses a lot in translation, or indeed to anyone who isn't Gaby, but suffice to say it was brilliant and incredibly witty in Portuguese - before heading to the in-laws for lasagna, different kinds of cake and heavy napping. Then in the evening we went to a trendy diner (which lists the "black power bombom" among its burgers, amusingly enough) to meet up with Dani, Andre and Andréia and relive the events of the night before down to the last obscene detail.

Then on Sunday we went to Vila Madalena for some empanadas and a sunny stroll round the block, before Gaby got down to some serious studying and, left to my own devices for the evening, I curated an ingenious double-bill of "Alien" and "Aliens" to round out the weekend in style. 

And that's all she wrote, except for my phrase of the week, which is the Portuguese equivalent of "the pot calling the kettle black", and translates rather poetically as "the shabby talking about the tattered".   I had a compilation all ready to go, but Spotify isn't letting me make it for some reason. 

Até mais, Minas Gerais.

A Fred of Americans

UPDATE, 22.11.16: Compilation is now up here.

15.11.16 - Não inventa moda

Bom dia! 

What a week it's been, from the Trumpocalypse to Leonard Cohen shuffling off this mortal coil, to Facebook jumping the gun and declaring half its users DOA (the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated).   I believe Yoko Ono put it best: https://twitter.com/yokoono/status/797187458505080834

We're currently in the midst of a rainy four-day weekend (for everyone except me, obvs, although work has mercifully calmed down a bit), so have limited our activities to watching Planet Earth, and then narrating everything that goes on in the house in David Attenborough's voice ("the house cat has a busy schedule, running around like a loon every morning before sleeping for the next 20 hours", etc).  

We went to a housewarming BBQ all the way down in São Bernardo do Campo on Saturday, followed by a posh bar in the evening for what turned out to be a mass Tinder date, with Gaby and I as unwitting wingmen. We watched the São Paulo Grand Prix on Sunday which was almost called off because of the rain, but led to the rather touching sight of Felipe Massa (or "Doughy Phillip" in English) tearfully bidding farewell to his home crowd while draped in a Brazilian flag, having spun out of the race like a big idiot.

Elsewhere we've been planning our Christmas hols, making compilations-as-coping-mechanisms, reading David FW on David L, and plotting my return to the live music circuit later this week.  My phrase of the day is usually directed by parents to kids with ideas above their station, and roughly translates as "don't go inventing any fashion trends" (i.e. "don't even think about it", basically). 

Hope all well with you - speak soon, baboon!

Fred Leaves & the Dirty Ground

08.11.16 - Água mole em pedra dura tanto bate até que fura

G'day,

A quick update as we all hold our breath for news from across the pond (or across the Panama Canal, in my case?)... 

On Thursday we went on a bit of an adventure when our car broke down on the way into town - this may or may not have something to do with it being out of gas (the gauge is broken, see). Anyway, we were winched to a petrol station in a massive truck, and eventually on to the place where we bought the car in the first place to hand it over for general repairs, much to my amusement and Gaby's dismay. 

Then on Saturday, having picked up my (hopefully now-functional) guitar we went on to the fashionable Rua Augusta for some stand-up comedy, at a sit-down nightclub imaginatively called "Comedians", and run by Danilo Gentili, the Brazilian talk-show-host equivalent of Conan O'Brien or Graham Norton who has apparently spearheaded the nascent stand-up movement here over the past few years.  

Anyway, it was most amusing - despite the banter pouring forth at breakneck speed I managed to understand most of it, give or take the odd reference to niche Brazilian cultural touchstones which went over my head. It was pretty universal "difference between men and women"/"rich and poor"/"prostate exam" material overall, but delivered with enthusiasm and plenty of biting wit (we sat in the front row but amazingly got away with nothing more than some light ribbing).  Interestingly all four comics made a point/running joke of mocking Osasco (a notoriously rubbish suburb - the Slough to São Paulo's London), which I thought only Gaby and I did. We laughed, we cried, we learnt some new naughty words, we went back to the in-laws afterwards to eat lots of cheese. 

This weekend was also notable for the scores of students taking their ENEM exams, which are kind of like A-levels... Anyway, it's quite a big deal, and invariably some students turn up late, are barred entrance and have to wait another year to take the exam. This has led to an amusing annual phenomenon where onlookers with lots of free time head to the school gates and set up camp for the day, purely to laugh at the latecomers' misfortune - SchadenFest '16, if you will. The media gets involved and everyone has a nice day out, except for the poor bastards who miss out (and sometimes pass out).  But then I have limited sympathy given the importance of the test, and it's a lot more wholesome than the equivalent yearly tradition in the UK...

In other awesome news, I have made a compilation crammed with sizzling guitars, and have an extra complicated proverb of the week for those of you keeping track - it's a rhyming couplet that translates roughly as "water dropping day by day wears the hardest rock away", or "keep at it!".  

That's all for the noo, and speak soon!

Fred Lieutenant

01.11.16 - Entre a cruz e a espada

Wotcha,

Hope all well with you, and good to see all your lovely... photos!  Over here, the Cold War between us law-abiding, God-fearing folk and the debased, dog-neglecting Commies across the road escalated over the weekend, after the endless barking prompted a call to the police and a trip to the station in the middle of the night - I doubt it'll do much good, but at least now it's in the system and hopefully the squad car parked outside their house has given them pause. We'll probably just move ASAP, as long as our landlord plays ball.

Meanwhile we've been out shopping for guitars, although the unexpectedly high prices led me to persuade a passing luthier to just fix my current one, which should hopefully be done this week. The journey also included a wander round the Praça Benedito Calixto flea market, and excursions to sample caipirinha risotto and chocolate orange ice cream (big fan of both).

In other news I have charted far-flung lands and picked weevils out of biscuits to bring you this compilation... My phrase of the week is the Portuguese equivalent of "between a rock and a hard place", and apparently dates back to the time of the Spanish Inquisition, when infidels could choose between converting to the cross, or to the sword (there is NO third thing, is that clear?!).  

Speak soon, innit,

Fred the Needle