31.01.17 - É muito cacique para pouco índio

Good Moleman to you,

Work has exploded into life after lying dormant for a blissful couple of weeks, plus the shed-building upstairs shows no sign of stopping, so it's been a bit hectic of late - but, in between regularly fleeing our own house and watching the collapse of Western civilisation online, Gaby's been putting together a new business venture with a team of crack psych-merchants, and I finally got my guitar to behave at a Prince-filled open mic night, which was most fun.

At the weekend we went to an eclair emporium, ostensibly for a meeting with said potential business partners, but mainly so I could try a SOLID GOLD ECLAIR with passion fruit filling, which was pretty special.   We also went for an ice-cream fest with some of Gaby's masters friends the next day, having briefly lapsed into a state of fitness during a constitutional walk round the sunny Horto Florestal, accompanied by a troop of monkeys.

I've thrown together another compilation - 'tis but a trifle, ma'am - and my phrase of the week ("lots of chiefs and not enough indians") refers to organisations with too many people calling the shots, to the general confusion of all.  I can't say I've had much call to use it, but I hope it proves useful to you in these troubled times.

Speak soon!

(A) Fred (in Need (is a Fred indeed))

24.01.17 - Kkkk

Wotcha,

Not much to report this week from a rainy São Paulo, where the people upstairs seem to have started building a bowling alley right above my head... On Friday I made a mean mango mousse cake, although I won't post any photos as they make it look like a tupperware full of sick (presentation needs work, but it tastes pretty good!). Gaby and I also made our speciality, sweet & sour chicken with Thai rice - no photos of that either, as I ate it all before we had the chance.

On Saturday we went to Santo André for a BBQ, thus completing my tour of the "ABC" trifecta outside São Paulo, in reverse chronological order (São Caetano do Sul, São Bernardo do Campo, Santo André). The city itself isn't much of a looker but we passed an "Avenida Príncipe de Gales" ("Prince of Wales Avenue") on our way, which I must remember to mention to Charles when I next see him...

Although my new headphones have been doing some seriously heavy lifting in the noise cancellation dpt. this week, the upshot is another compilation... As for my Phrase of the Week: "kkkk" is the Brazilian "LOL", used online as an onomatopoeia to denote mirth, rather than any allegiance to the Ku Klux Klan (although the similarity often leads to hilarious, po-faced Facebook posts by concerned elders, scolding the youth for inadvertently promoting right-wing extremists).  

That this PotW coincides with the inauguration of our new Leader of the Free World is pure coincidence. 

While we're at it, and for the avoidance of doubt, "bjs" is short for "beijos" ("kisses") and not whatever you're imagining; and "abs" is "abraços" ("hugs"), unless I'm misinterpreting everyone wishing me fabulous abs via WhatsApp. Now you should have no trouble blending in with the Brazilian Twitterati...

Best regards,

The Last Fred-i

17.01.17 - Testa de ferro

Hallooo,

Hope all well with you lot. Am back to work having been given an extra week off by my boss, in an uncharacteristic display of largesse. Spent my stay of execution mostly flopping about - our post-trip all-salad diet lasted all of three days before I bought cake, and also learned to make a different kind of cake with Gaby's grandma, who was on cat watch at the in-laws' (the latter also returned from NYC on Sunday, bearing gifts and gadgets).

I also went on random wanders to Rua Oscar Freire (posh street, lots of cafés) and Itaim (more cafés), and we went to the Silvio Santos retrospective exhibition at the Museum of Sound and Vision on Friday, which was mildly amusing - Gaby and her grandma had a fine time recreating old gameshow routines, and I photographing them doing so.  You may remember Silvio Santos from my earlier profile, which can be found here.  Gaby also gave her first class yesterday, teaching laymen and women about behaviourism - by all accounts it was a roaring success.

I have come up with another, rather pensive compilation, and another expression of the week - "testa de ferro" ("iron forehead"), which designates someone who is presented as the figurehead of an organisation in place of the actual powers-that-be (à la Trump Jr.), and dates back to when lowly sailors were pushed to the front of the boat to ward off attackers.  "Testa de laranja" ("orange forehead") means pretty much the same thing, except the organisation's activities are shady and the figurehead stands to take the fall if they're found out.  Not sure where the "orange" bit comes from.  All clear?

Ciao for now,

Fred Men Don't Wear Plaid

10.01.17 - Deu onda

Hail fellows well met,

We're back in SazPaz now, and slowly getting back into the swing of things, but just last week we were spending a lovely few days swanning around Gaby's friends' (the ones whose wedding we're going to in Greece this June...) luxury compound in Tabatinga - about a mile from our hotel in Ilhabela as the crow flies, but a gruelling eight-hour trip in gridlocked traffic in reality, as the previous night's storm chaos spilled over into the next day and the queue for the ferry ground to a halt. 

Anyway, once we'd finally arrived and settled in, we took in the private beach (where we were accosted in the sea by a flamboyant artist who kept namedropping until we went wrinkly and had to get out), had an amazing BBQ courtesy of Giorgio's granddad, opted to stay an extra day, gorged on ice cream and pannetone, and eventually made our way back on Thursday night for a homecoming pizza with Gaby's grandma and the cats.   Not even the untimely smashing of my favourite mug by a restless and housebound Valente could dampen our spirits.

Since then we've been out clubbing, at an uninspiring and massively over-air-conditioned sertanejo barn called Woods, and have decided we're way too old for that sh*t; and on Saturday we visited an amazing, all-gold-leaf restaurant called "The Best Pão de Queijo in the World" for an absolutely obscene Nutella milkshake, in one final act of defiance/sugar rush before reality sets in again.

--

Now seems as good a time as any to examine the short history of a cultural phenomenon that's as synonymous with the post-Christmas period here as short-lived exercise regimes and flash-flooding: the Carnaval novelty song.  

Every year some idiot-savant comes up with the feelgood hit of the summer, a cartoonish earworm which is blasted out of every car window and soundsystem, covered, spoofed and memed to death until Carnaval ends, at which point it is immediately consigned to the graveyard of history.  I've often considered making my fortune writing such a song, as it seems to require no talent or effort, but it's surprisingly hard to predict what will catch on with the masses.  The only common factor is that it should sound good blasting out of the back of a flatbed truck by the beach, and even that's stretching the definition of "good".

My first exposure to this cultural quirk was in 2014, when "Lepo Lepo" was all over the airwaves like a rash.   In many ways "Lepo Lepo" is the platonic ideal of a Carnaval novelty song: minimal production values, four chords, a lively pagode beat, and a gibberish title which is a euphemism for the singer's genitals, with an added dash of everyman populism (the chorus goes: "I don't have a car / don't have a roof / if she stays with me it's because she likes my / ha ha ha ha ha ha ha lepo lepoooo").   It does very little to dispel unwanted Brazilian stereotypes.   The song and its authors, Psirico, were simply too beautiful for this world, and have not been heard of or mentioned since.

In 2015 we were in England for Carnaval, so missed out on the musical herpes that is "Baile de Favela", but we were back in 2016 for "Metralhadora" by Banda Vingadora, who stepped in at the last minute when it looked like Carnaval was going to pass by without a defining song (we are forever grateful).   Notable previous entries include "Rebolation" in 2010 and of course "Gangnam Style", which was imported from South Korea in 2012.  Note the subtle difference with songs like "Ai Se Eu Te Pego" and "Beijinho no Ombro", which were also big during Carnaval but were engineered to last a little longer, and are still played to this day.

Now the sound of summer '17 has arrived, and it's bloody awful: a tinny dribble of a song called "Deu Onda" ("onda" meaning "good vibes" in this context, more or less) whose coarse braying is a far cry from the tender romanticism of "Lepo Lepo".   The chorus is "what am I to do? / My d*ck's in love with you".   I pray you never have to hear it.

I have, on the other hand, crafted my first compilation of the new year, and my people will be in touch to work out Skype details later in the week, etc.

Yours,

Fred of the East-End

03.01.17 - Camarão que dorme, a onda leva

Halloooo, and a Happy New 2017 to you all!   

We rung in the new year on the Beautiful Island of Ilhabela, just a six-hour hop and a skip from São Paulo.  Hard to recall the specifics of the past week, but a typical day involved a breakfast spread of coffee, cakes and exotic fruit, during which we had to decide which beach we would go to for our morning swim - then on to a local eatery for fresh fish, pineapple juice and gallons of ice cream, followed by a jump in the hotel pool and a nap before venturing out again for dinner. 

On New Years Eve we eschewed the flashy, exorbitantly expensive party at the Sea Club (and the even more expensive party at the newly-inaugurated yacht club opposite our hotel) to hang out with the common man in the old town, for what turned out to be an equally amusing party complete with fireworks and a ROCK covers band.   The common man responded by throwing cider all over us at midnight, but them's the breaks.

Last night was a bit of an adventure, as the power went out on (seemingly) the whole island post-storm, just as everyone was gearing up to head home or get dinner - civilisation broke down shockingly quickly, although we found a magical hovel still serving hamburgers off a gas stove, and were handsomely fed and watered by the time the lights came on again.  Was a nice way to decompress from the holiday spirit, and remind ourselves why we don't just live here all the time...  I also had to a bit of work at some point but let's not dwell, eh.

An amusing subplot involved the mass Tinder date between Gaby's friends and their respective suitors, which we somehow became accessories to back in São Paulo months ago ago and which moved to Ilhabela this week with no sign of resolution; still, they seem like nice chaps, and one of them taught me this week's Brazilian saying: "the prawn that sleeps gets carried away by the wave" (or "seize the day and don't be a sleeping prawn", I suppose).

Today we're off down the road to Tabatinga, and Giorgio's beach house for a change of scenery; then I've been summoned back to work tomorrow morning (not that I ever left), so we're going to have to make our way back over the hills to the big city, and check on the cats.  Will let you know when we're back for a Skype, and pics will surely follow...

Ciao for now,

Frau