25.07.17 - Quebrar galho

Ahoy hoy,

We've been slowly settling back into the daily routine here - work, errands, cats, Gaby's masters etc - and I've got my hands on a new computer, after one of Patricia's Apple store contacts put aside a knock-down shop display model for me on Thursday.  Football was cancelled later that evening after faulty wiring plunged the pitch into darkness, but we bravely continued on to the pub anyway.

At the weekend we went to Claudio and Marta's new pad outside Campinas for a BBQ which I unfortunately ended up sleeping through most of, by way of a shopping outlet by the motorway which at least had some good empadas going for it.  And on Sunday we met up with Gaby's mates for a gossip and belated birthday lunch for Cris at The Fifties, our nearby American diner.

Otherwise it's business as usual, which means a return to the weekly compilation, and a saying which means "to break the branch", and refers to giving someone a break by coming up with a makeshift solution to a long-running problem. Or just breaking branches, if that's your thing.

Speak soon!

How to Get A-Fred in Advertising

18.07.17 - Rouba mas faz

Halloooo,

And so the great Eurotrip of 2017 draws to a close, and we find ourselves back in chilly Brazil with nothing but memories and small pots of hotel jam to sustain us. Since last I wrote we managed to cram another two countries in, starting with Morocco, which was as hectic and lovely as we'd been led to believe.

Once we landed in Marrakech we were escorted to our rather awesome riad by Massimo, the owner who we're pretty sure was either a shady arms dealer or exiled Italian duke in his spare time, and given a comprehensive briefing on what not to do when out and about. After a quick sleep and breakfast on the rooftop terrace we went to the main square and mosque for a wander, then down to the Palais Bahia and up into the souks, tried our hand at haggling (turns out I'm rubbish at haggling) and eventually staggered back once the heat became too much, for a quiet dinner and paddle in the pool.

The next day we had to forsake a trip to the Jardin Majorelle due to work commitments (we also called off a camel ride the previous evening, due to general paranoia), instead making our way to the airport to sit for hours as a man played the same five notes over and over again through some weird bass-and-delay set-up, and eventually getting to Lisbon and settling in to our Airbnb in the heart of the old town.

The next day we wandered round town, down to the Tagus and the Time Out Market for steak sandwiches, and up to the Catedrale do Sé, eventually ending up at the rather impressive Castelo São Jorge, looking over the city at sunset and taking lots of photos on the ramparts before heading down to the Portas do Sol viewpoint, and on to Cruzes Credo for a cod dinner, before heading back to bed.

The next day Gaby had food poisoning, prompting a trip to the hospital, and I hit a wall and ended up in bed all day too, and the next morning we found out our (heavily delayed) stopover in Casablanca was going to be by way of propellor plane - fairly stressful all in all, but we made it back in one piece around 1:30 in the morning, to be met by Adny and Ridaut and have a joyous reunion with Valente at home.

Since then I've gone down with a fever and have been recovering, surrounded by cats. Today's phrase - "he steals, but he gets things done" - goes out to Lula, who has just been sentenced to nine years for general dodginess.

Speak soon!

Fred of Arabia

11.07.17 - He who has money can eat sherbet in hell

¡Hola, que tal!

Work is heating up at the precise moment that my computer has started to die a death, so I will be brief... London was great fun last week, despite a terrible hotel near Kings Cross which dispensed with such niceties as "cleaning" and "wifi" and "anything other than a small bed". Instead we spent as much time as possible roaming the streets, heading to Forest Hill to stalk our old house and buy appropriate footwear, then on to Marble Arch for a rather swish Thai meal overlooking Hyde Park, before heading back to gorge on raspberries.

The next day I went to meet my boss at his club briefly, before meeting up with Gaby and Jessica for lunch on the South Bank and a stroll around Borough Market and Tower Bridge, and heading to Camden for a drink with London comrades past which was most enjoyable (I even got my hands on some fancy fish 'n chips, which absolutely made my trip).  

Then after checking out and wandering through Soho for a quick stop at Fortnum & Mason, it was all aboard the train to Ely, for Pimms and roast lamb with grandma and grandpa in Isleham. On Friday we went to Bressingham to meet up with Henar, Brenna and the kids for steam-train-based fun, wandering round the picturesque gardens and being chased by Dougal and Ossian. 

After an afternoon of travelling we reached Barcelona on Saturday night and hit La Rambla for bottomless tapas and sangria, then on Sunday we went to the Parc de Montjuïc to catch a cable car up to the castle and stroll along the ramparts, before heading to the Gothic Quarter for pans, xocolata and sightseeing, at the History Museum and Cathedral among other places. Then it was on to the beach for burgers and patatas bravas, and a wander along the beach to the giant Frank Gehry fish statue and back to bed.

Yesterday work kicked in just as my computer decided to give up the ghost and spend the day reformatting itself, so I had to run from internet café to internet café in the midday sun, calculating budgets and analysing Middle Eastern geopolitics in less-than-favourable conditions.  Eventually met up with Gaby, who had gone to our pre-booked tour of the Sagrada Familia on her own, and went to the Boqueria for several fruit juices, before some rampant photo-taking in Park Guell and a final quick trip to the beach - incredibly stressful but most enjoyable in the end.

Today we're packing up and heading to Marrakech, and today's proverb is from Lebanon - I'm not sure what it means, but it certainly makes you think.

Ciao for now,

Mes que un Fred

04.07.17 - Nie mój cyrk, nie moje malpy

Allo, oo is eet?

Lovely to see you last week, we've barely had a minute to think since but thank you for a fantastic time on the Côte - we shall return!   I am writing this on board a Eurostar bound for foggy London town after a wild and crazy weekend in Paris.  Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin...

We pulled in to Gare de Lyon after a relaxing, Zen-carriage ride from Cannes, and checked into our hotel on Rue la Bruyère, which in a stroke of absolute genius offers guests a 24/7 soft drink and pastry open bar.   After several pains au chocolat, a celebratory kebab in Pigalle and a wander round the Moulin Rouge and seedier establishments of Boulevard Clichy, we turned in for the night.

On Saturday we awoke to drizzle, but it cleared up once we set out to meet up with Jessica, Gaby's cousin from Minas Gerais who was in town for the weekend too, having gone to study English in London over the summer. We had lunch with Nic, of Archway fame, who also happened to be stopping by at his flat down the road and who gave us some insider tips for our trip to Barcelona before heading off to save the world for Oxfam.

Gaby went to Jardin de Luxembourg for an emergency session with a former patient of hers, who has been studying for two years in Paris and doesn't want to go back, while I went for a much-delayed Lili's Brownies hot chocolate with Pierre, who was in town for a matter of hours with his European Central Bank buddy - met up with Gaby, saw them back off to Frankfurt and wandered across the Pont des Arts for a quick drink with Noah, who was also coincidentally in town as part of an elaborate 30th birthday present from his girlfriend. And there was much rejoicing.

Then we went on to, and indeed in to Notre Dame, which was apparently hosting an extremely avant garde organ recital, and looked and sounded incredible; and headed back to the hotel to freshen up ahead of an evening at Le Refuge des Fondus, where we queued up, got in around midnight and gorge on cheese and wine in baby bottles, before rolling back down the hill to bed.

Sunday morning was spent preparing for our 50's photoshoot - Gaby had a bit of a wobble due to a combination of cloudy weather and her fake eyelashes falling out at a crucial juncture (taking her real eyelashes with them), but we hit the Champs Elysées (in the grip of a Brazilian-style Carnaval parade, of all things) and she was professionally restored to full diva mode in the Sephora make-up shed.   Plus the sun came out eventually.

After a trip to see Ridaut's boulanger friend Mohamed (who gave us a free lunch and mango tarts AND let us change in his bathroom, the absolute legend) we went to the Trocadero to meet up with Juliet's photographer contact, who followed us down to the Eiffel Tower and Champ de Mars, on to the RER to Invalides where we hung around the bridge, and finally into a passing Uber to Notre Dame for the electrifying conclusion, all in flamboyant 50's attire.  We look forward to the results!

Then we met up with Jub and Mel for crêpes and cider on the Ile St-Louis, before bidding our adieux and going all the way back to the Eiffel Tower to see it sparkle at midnight (I was outnumbered two giddy Brazilian tourists to one, although I'll begrudgingly admit it was pretty cool), and head back to patch up our feet and collapse.

On Monday morning I had to attend to work matters while simultaneously packing and checking out, then it was off to the Champs Elysées again to meet up with Gaby and Jessica for lunch. While passing the Grand Palais, we noticed an unusually high ratio of ridiculously good-looking people, and ended up in the midst of a full-blown red carpet fashion event, as statuesque models and shrivelled old designers walked purposefully past us in high heels to greet the paparazzi and World Fashion network cameras, before heading inside.  It was all rather surreal.

We then made the most of our last few hours in Paris by wandering through the Tuileries in the boiling sun, picking up some macaroons underneath the Louvre and a crème brûlée by the Palais Royal, heading to St. Michel for a final stroll by the river, and making a late run for the Eurostar, which just about brings us up to date.

Sticking with non-Brazilian proverbs for this trip, I've got a cracker from Poland which I'm told translates as "not my circus, not my monkeys", and can be used to dismiss anything which is simply not your problem. Join us next week for more European hi-jinks, including trips to such jetset destinations as Barcelona and Isleham!

Speak soon,

Frèd-e Jacques

01.07.17 - Chiacchierando con un compagno di viaggio, la via pare più breve

Hallooo!

Since I’ve been staying with my target audience (i.e. parents) for the past few days, this post is mainly for my online following and for posterity.   I write it from a TGV bound for Paris from the Cote d’Azur, as befits my idiom these days…

Picking up where we left off… Croatia was a blast, although it took us two days to finally see Split properly, since we kept going off on day trips and coming back too tired to move. On the Tuesday we got a coach to the Plitvice Lakes, prefaced by a lecture from a bluff old tour guide covering bandits, ties, accordions, Nikola Tesla and a rather sobering recap of the recent civil war just before we arrived. The Lakes themselves were amazing - very blue, picturesque and unfortunately closed to swimmers, for obvious reasons - and many a photo was taken before we were bundled off to a highway restaurant for one of the best, and fastest, three-course package meals I’ve ever had, then back home as the air con struggled in vain against the afternoon sun.

After a quick wander around nighttime Split, we got an early night ahead of an early-morning catamaran trip to Hvar, where we were packed into a speedboat and driven around the various surrounding islands.  First stop was the Green Cave on Vis, followed by the Blue Cave which involved swapping boats, ducking as we went through the tiny entrance and marvelling at the natural reflections within (and in my case, recreating the “Ocean Rain” album cover in my head). Then we were taken to the Stiniva Bay for a paddle and quickfire GoPro action, followed by a burger in a beautiful but obscenely expensive cove, then back to Hvar and onwards home to flop about indiscriminately.

The next day we packed, checked out of our Airbnb, stowed our bags in the restaurant next door and went wandering round Split, buying bags of raspberries and cherries at the market, sightseeing in the old town, checking in to our ferry down by the port, heading to the beach for steins of Croatian lager, trekking up the clock tower for a hair-raising photoshoot and eventually clambering aboard the good ship Marko Polo, having dinner in the company of Zagreb Hells Angels and bedding down in our surprisingly comfortable overnight cabin.

The next morning we bolted down breakfast and made our way through Ancona until we found our rental car (sadly no Cinquecento’s were available, but it did the job) and hit the road, almost immediately having to swerve to avoid a comically stereotypical Italian car crash.  Ended up in Assisi, wandering through the streets until we reached the Rocco Maggiori for a quick tour, then back down for some amazing pasta and ice cream (soon to become a running theme) before heading on to Tuscany and meeting up with our affable Airbnb hosts. Settled in to the upstairs annex of our Tuscan villa, and on to Siena for a nighttime stroll and a pizza at Il Pomodorino, overlooking the Duomo, before a terrifying return trip down darkened roads to crash out.

In the morning we had an amazing breakfast and sampled our host’s homemade olive oil, before setting off to Siena again for a sweltering stroll through the main square and churches, a chocolate ice cream that literally made me go weak in the knees, and more pizza. Then we went on to Castello di Brolio for a wander round the ramparts and down into the town for a wine tasting, which led to a wine-buying, which was followed by an amazing dinner of wild boar tagliatelle and panna cotta at Villa in Sesta as the sun went down over the vineyards.

After another superlative breakfast we packed up and drove to Galliano, to meet up with the parents and Carol and Vito in the aftermath of their exhibition at Pierre and Angelica’s country house, for focaccia, fagiole and fun all round.   Then we went to Florence, dropped the car off at the airport and checked into our extremely classy Airbnb on Via San Gallo, ahead of a whistle-stop tour of the town including the Duomo, the Palazzo Vecchio, the Uffizi, the Ponte Vecchio (mostly closed by this point) and the Palazzo Pitti.  I wasn’t feeling great by this point but a pizza in a hidden garden and gallons of pink grapefruit ice cream did the trick, before we headed back to bed.

The next day we got a but to Fiesole to meet up with the parents at their old European Institute University stomping ground, have a quick tour and a canteen lunch in a requisitioned villa, then embarked on a six-hour journey back to the Cote, stopping at Monaco so Gaby could ogle the Instagram-ready passers-by and assorted supercars, and Nice for an excellent meal in the main square.

The next day we lolled around Antibes, visiting the market and the ramparts before having a dip at La Gravette and a singalong at the flat with Juliet and Mel; this was followed by a day with a rented electric car, which we took to Gourdon, the Pont du Loup and Grasse before heading back for a nap and taking in Juan-les-Pins and Cannes in the evening, including an eye-wateringly expensive aperitif in the Carlton.

On Thursday I finally got round to doing some work, but still found time to wander round the Cap, get shuttled to Juan-les-Pins via scooter and bus for a beachside drink and make an appearance at a picnic on the beach, before rounding the evening off with crepes and ice cream in the old town. Today we saw the family off with a lovely lunch, and set off to Paris in the afternoon for more adventures.

My phrase of the week is one of many Italian food-related sayings that featured on the place settings at Il Pomodorino: "Chatting with a travelling companion, the road seems shorter."