Rain By spratmackrel, November 5, 2008 available through Creative Commons via Flickr

It’s raining again, damn! It hasn’t stopped raining for days. Normally this wouldn’t bother me because I like the rain, especially on a warm day where even the most mature individual is tempted to jump into a puddle. Today, today is my last day in Rio de Janeiro and I’d like to say my upset stomach was over my uneasiness of leaving a place I’ve called home for four months or that it’s because I am returning home only to be handed a piece of paper that says I’m capable of teaching. Teaching, ha! You would have thought that 23 years of life, four of which backed by a college education, would have taught me not to do six shots right before I leave the bar, after I already reached that ‘feel good’ point. Lesson learned, at least for now, but their are more pressing matters, like the rain.

The gentle drops create a hum on the roof disrupted only by the sound of a cart being pulled across a puddle. I’ll miss that scent, reheated butter and caramel as the street vendor waits outside the school selling popcorn. I should get up, any other day I’d sleep off this hangover but then again my last day isn’t just any other day.

I fill my pockets with the last of my money, slip on my Havaianas and head out to the store. as I round the corner the bus that would any other day take me to the beach squeaks to a stop. Maybe I should hop on just so I can get one last look?

I keep walking tracing the jagged lines of the odd shaped stones that line the sidewalk. Even through the dingy smell of wet pavement older than the US I can smell the sweet potent smell of coffee. I’m almost there.

I’ll miss this, the tiny cup of a coffee the same size, but twice as strong as anything I drank last night. It’s only rival is the fresh baked roll whose crackle as I break it in half is like a lullaby that soothes my stomach’s cries.

I feel like I should do something more, as if the past four months count for not and only this moment will last eternal in my memory of my time spent here. Maybe I should have got on that bus or any bus, never to return so that the ending is merely the beginning of a new story? No, I have to go back, my passport is in my room. They wouldn’t let me cross into Argentina without my passport.

I begin to walk back home weighing my makeshift plan to runaway even though I know the furthest I’d go would be to the beach, if only to watch the waves splash on the shore from a distance.

I’m brought back to my present location by the rustling sound of an old woman digging through the trash bags. This is the hardest part about Rio, the homeless children and elderly. But there are too many of them and the money I have is too few. That is, until today I have some money not enough to exchange back to US dollars but enough for her.

Damn, of all my Portuguese lessons the only one that dealt with the homeless was to shy away from beggars not attract their attention to give them money.

Excuse me I say, “Licencia”, sounding more like I’m questioning myself instead of asking for her attention. She shoots up quick for someone so frail, her eyes big yet sunken like someone too scared to sleep peacefully at night. “I have some money for you, I’m leaving today…I don’t need it.” Did I say that right?

Her timidness quickly becomes defensive, the trash bag is the only thing separating us on this narrow sidewalk, her back against the wall my heals hanging over the curb onto the street. People begin to stare and the saltiness from the rain leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

I become nervous at the uneasiness of the situation, why do I feel this way if I’m only trying to do the right thing. I hold out the money, both arms fully extended trying to give it to her but she only shoos me away. Did I insult her? Her actions become more aggressive as her wrinkles attempt to tighten across her face. Do I just drop the money or leave with it, I’m not sure what I should do. I walk away.

I swear only a month ago she was sitting in that same spot asking for money, was it her or did I just insult a woman taking out the trash? No, I’m sure it was her or at least that she had no where to go, no place to call home, but why wouldn’t she take the money, what do I do now? Do I finish packing and go out frivolously spending my remaining Brazilian Real?

Walking too intensely focused on the rain to realize I was getting wet, I continue the day just as it has begun…

My stomach hurts.

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Lost Days of Rio is a post from: Monkey Brewster

This is not the type of story you might often hear about in travel tales, because who wants to admit to going to a touristy spot where nearly everyone speaks English and it’s almost indistinguishable from some place back home, minus the collage of accents. Truth be told I didn’t mind this place when I wanted a stout beer or just didn’t want to struggle so much to communicate with whoever filled the bar stool next to me. I was never homesick during my 4 months in Rio but I was communication sick- that is sick of communicating with the same people all the time because they were the only English speakers, well fluent ones. If you have traveled along side someone, you probably have had this moment where it isn’t that you are tired of the person but need a different type of conversation, perhaps a different perspective.  So let me tell you a monkey’s tale of three very different experiences, all of which helped shaped my outlook on Rio’s Cariocas.

My first night visiting Shenanigans came after reading up on it online with my fellow American roommates. We decided to give it a go and see if we can truly maneuver the bus system at night. Thanks to a helpful bus driver, we arrived safely at our destination. We plopped down in a little corner and before we knew it, we were chit chatting it up with some Cariocas that we were bumping elbows with. I like to think it’s because I’m cute and cuddly, but really my two blond female roommates probably had more to do with it. We ate, drank and told stories for what seemed like hours, until finally it was time to head out. Our newfound friends helped us to locate a taxi who tried to charge us 5x the usual rate. After some arguing we went off to find a new taxi, the second driver only wanted to rip us off 3x the usual rate. These Cariocas weren’t having it and finally located two taxis so we could all ride together. They made sure we safely arrived at our home in Botafogo. After they dropped us off, they refused to let us pay our portion. Then they squeezed into one taxi and headed off to their own home. They never gave us more than a name or asked for anything but ours in return.

You ever meet that piss drunk stereotype of a tourist that makes you hope and pray he is of a different nationality so that he doesn’t ‘represent’ you. Well, my first encounter was with a drunken Englishman who after barging into the bathroom shouted to all those around, asking how to say ‘Let’s go back to my place’ or ‘How about a blow job’ in Portuguese. Yeah, my thoughts exactly. This belligerent tourist clearly was pissing off everyone around: tourist, locals and the staff. Thus, he quickly found himself getting escorted out the bar. Three carioca men who were at the bar also happened to be on their way out when this man hit the wall – literally. He then proceeded to pass out on the stone sidewalk and make that awesome drool gurgle noise of a half coherent man. These three carioca men called an ambulance and made sure some of the watchful eyes in the park across the street didn’t dare come over to pick pocket this man. A few other locals walked out of the bar and began to argue with the three men on how they should leave him be and let him learn a lesson. But they stood by until the ambulance picked him up.

It was a cool night and I ventured off by myself ending up at Shenanigans chit chatting up a few locals and an Irishman who loved to talk – but he had that cool accent so I was kind of interested too. That is until I knocked over a huge glass ashtray; which landed on the foot of a girl next to me, yeah smooth operator style! After apologizing profusely, I learned her name was Death (ok so it was really Deth but close enough I mean come on!) The crowd on the balcony came and went but we chit chatted together as I pawned over what a friend told me earlier that week. “If you don’t kiss her right away she won’t think you’re interested.” While the validity of this comment is questionable let alone a stereotype, I decided why not, I haven’t done more than hug a Brazilian woman as of yet. After a mini make-out session we were kicked out of the bar as it was closing, each going our own way. Her friend hinting that we should visit such and such hotel, I decided to leave it for another day. I never called her but then again a sober morning will get you to question dating a girl named Death or Deth or whatever exactly it was.

What did all this teach me, well for one that not all locals who hang out at touristy spots are scammers and creepers. The other thing is to not to underestimate the hospitality and openness the world can offer you even in a large city like Rio and even with a girl named Death.

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An Irish Pub in Rio – A Monkey’s Tale is a post from: Monkey Brewster

My TESOL degree is free, that’s right like no dinero, not a penny, zip-zero free; which is good because I don’t have any pockets-or wear pants…

I owe a lot on my college loans which you are thinking yeah so does everyone else, but I’m trying to knock that down a wee bit before I take off. Two years is plenty of time to hopefully pay off at least one of my loans. Plus while I’m back to school I can stop interest from accumulating on my loans; which is friggin awesome!

These are the why, which is less exciting than the where. So where should I go? Well I’ve got a few ideas planned out but nothing is set in stone and I’m curious to see what you, my lovely human readers, think. Plus, to be honest my mission is to figure out what makes you tick and tock and whatever it is that you humans do so I should probably take your opinion into consideration. I’ll fling you my opinion and you can fling some back at me.

• Lima, Peru – I have the possibility of a home to live in (rent free) and connections with various job opportunities, which is good because I will still be paying off my debt…although from a sunnier location. Plus I’ve habloed espanol once or twice so I can get by with the basics.

• Japan – My TESOL degree could help me land a job teaching English, while I’ve been strung along only to be let down before with two other programs -this time I have a plan. Since I will have more credentials, more planning time and a little more know how I will try to work for a more respectable company like JET which is less likely to promise me a job then not answer my calls when I’m asking about when to purchase a ticket until 3 months later. (if only I could fling poo that far – but back on topic) Plus, nihongo wa wakarimasu, ok not really but I’m working on taking classes and will continue to work on it, better than nothing right?

• Brazil – I have been contacting my old job where I was a student teacher in Rio de Janeiro, and my friends in Lima recently came from Sao Paulo where they have an English language school/program. Now it’s an assumption that Rio would want me back or Sao Paulo would be willing to give me an opportunity but if I use my sad puppy eyes (monkeys can do that look too), and show them cute and cuddly there is a good chance that I can convince them of anything. I also falo Portuguese, well sort of, about the extent of my Spanish but that is but enough to get me by like I would in Peru.

What do you think? Are these good or bad ideas? Am I missing something here? I also continually get information about teaching jobs in Korea but to be honest I’m no pro on anything Korean, yet Nomadic Matt seemed to speak well of it . My biggest factor will be the job aspect of each location, because without that then I will default on my loan which is one thing I don’t want to worry about – unless someone wants to help a monkey @(^_^)@

Gracias, Obrigado, and Arigato Gozaimasu

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2012 A New Beginning is a post from: Monkey Brewster

I loved living in Rio, every dirty street and the smog smell that filled the street air as soon as you stepped away from the beach. It wasn’t always pretty but it was Rio, and from someone who lived in the not so touristy glamor filled neighborhood of Botafogo I loved the aforementioned grit.

I know there is a lot of pressure on Rio de Janeiro to clean up it’s act because the Olympics and FIFA are coming and will showcase the good, bad and gritty aspects of Rio to the world – and this has some people scared. For those of us who know Rio, some changes while may seem aesthetically more appealing, take away from the real Rio. They took away the coconuts, ok I can deal with that but the cheese too – well now your pushing it. They have changed all the tents to white and removed any markings, dammit I had my favorite guy who would hook me up with a seat for R$3 and gave me specials on an ice cold Itaipava. How do I find him now?  Closing down the Disco where all the prostitutes gathered, well that one isn’t an entirely huge loss I’m sure they’ll find a new place to sucker in the gringo tourist – just make sure she doesn’t have an adams apple. Remember guys, surgery is cheap down there so before you rent your love motel room make sure you know what your getting into. Even if she is a she – if it seems too good to be true it probably is and she will hit you up for money at some point.

I digress, but that is Rio. I danced the Samaba in the streets, was robbed on the stairway of Selaron and ate the most delicious grilled bananas in the lagoa surrounded by Sugar Loaf and the Christ Redeemer. I had to wash my fur daily to get the smog smell out and my havaianas probably had some sewage disease on them from walking in the rain. Rio is the most wonderful, amazing, dirty and grity place I have ever been to and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m afraid when I go back it is going to look like some beach resort type place.

Lastly, I’m worried what they are going to do with the people. Those who can’t even afford to live in the favelas and end up living on the streets. What happens to those people? Are they really going to just let them be throughout the media circus of the Olympics or take the other extreme and outlaw living on the streets reflecting Nazi Germany? I doubt anyone would take it that far but I wonder what changes they have planned and what limitations if any, there are.

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The Real Rio is a post from: Monkey Brewster

I was really excited about traveling to Peru for a lot of reasons, one of them being Guaraná. Yeah, I know you are thinking, “Pop, of all the things you were excited about traveling to South America for, the first post you make about your trip to Peru, is over pop?” Why yes, yes it is and there is nothing you can do about it. The truth, there is a dark side to this story, not a lie but merely a misunderstanding – a sad, sad misunderstanding.

I spoke of Guaraná and how it was my favorite drink while in Brazil just looking at the picture of the can makes my mouth water. When I was told of Guaraná, of course I became excited – scheming plans of smuggling back liters of it, gorging myself in its’ delicious elixir while in Lima. In fact, when I first settled into where I was staying my friend proudly pulled out a big bottle of this weird-looking red stuff and asked if I wanted some Guaraná. I was perplexed, it says Guaraná and in fact has the same little three red cherries on the label but this was different. I smiled an awkward smile, hesitating as I said yes and that proud smile my friend bore slowly faded as she realized I wasn’t as excited as I should have been over what was taking place before me.

In my defense, this was not what I was expecting. Sure we were in a sunny warm climate nestled in South America but this wasn’t the Guaraná I came to love a year before it was, it was red! I had to try it though, I’m not that closed off. She poured me a glass, I gave it the look over and did what any self respecting monkey would do – I downed the glass. It was good, I’m not going to lie – but it just wasn’t the same Guaraná.

For good measure, I was able to find a Brazilian Guaraná Antarctica smuggled over by my friend’s cousin who recently moved to Lima from São Paulo. It was a mini bottle but I enjoyed it in all its mini glory – for I too am mini. My overall evaluation is that Guaraná Antarctica easily reigns over the Peruvian Guaraná, but I also realize that if you want to talk Peruvian soft drinks you need to be talking about Inca Kola, but that is a whole other conversation. My challenge to you is travel to Brazil and Peru trying both versions for yourself, if that seems too much then your stuck with my evaluation – that or finding an import store near you.

Have you tried either (or both) of these drinks? What is your take on “The Battle of the Guaranás” , share your feedback on how they rate. Till then I’m on the look out for a good banana drink…or maybe a banana beer. Now that is a creation worthy of a monkey’s palate.

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The Battle of the Guaranás is a post from: Monkey Brewster

Sunga (men) or Brazilian Bikini and a sarong (women). That’s a banana hammock and dental floss with your see through beach blanket if you weren’t sure. If you show up at the beach wearing your AE swimsuit, even if it is in style back home, here it is not going to help you blend in. Yeah you always see the Brazilian beauties wearing the tiniest of outfits, and maybe- just maybe you fell short of your New Years resolution and still don’t have the beach body you want, but that is OK. The fact is that Cariocas are comfortable with their body so expect the 20 year old babe with the hourglass figure and her 40 year old aunt who hasn’t lost the weight after her second child, to be wearing the same style AND size bikini. The same goes for the guys, you have your Calvin Klein model and his overweight best friend who has more fur than me both rocking a sunga. Politicians trying to get re-elected are shown wearing a sunga in their ads. Put your mind at ease, slip on your swimsuit which has less material than your average napkin and strut your stuff.

Rio Card – This is a great way to use transportation without having to whip out your wallet every time you enter the bus. Once you are on the first step the bus starts moving so quickly that you can’t help but fly around like you are on some extreme thrill ride. Now try to picture digging into you pockets (that’s right giving up an arm to brace you) to dig out a few reais. You get the picture which is why with this card you simply have to stand up long enough to hold you card up next to the reader (you don’t even need to take it out of your wallet) and you get the green light to go. The real amazement is the little old ladies who rock and sway as they gracefully move about the bus, something that after 4 months I still couldn’t maneuver.

• There are two different types of Rio cards one that is for the bus only and one that works with both the Metro and Bus. To make sure you get the one that works for both purchase your card at the Metro station, otherwise you may pick up a bus card anywhere including most grocery stores.

Havaianas - Oh, you have some flip-flops, understandable why would you need Havaianas. I’ll tell you why, because theses are not your every day flip-flops, these bad boys are the superman of flip-flops. I’ve watch construction workers build massive structures in nothing but a pair of shorts, Havaianas on their feet and the tools in their hand. The best part is they are cheap here, for around R$20 (about US $10) you can purchase an inexpensive pair, which also could serve as a great souvenir.

Futbol – Pick a team, get a jersey and if you get a chance watch them play at Maracana. There are many teams in Rio but choosing a team is no simple decision to the local die-hard fans. I lived in Botafogo and figured it would be best to support my ‘local’ team. I quickly learned the best bet was to root for Flamengo as this is the team ‘of the people’ where as Fluminense is more often associated with the upper class. You are already the gringo tourist the last thing you would want is to be associated with the wrong team. I found myself in a few situations that made me happy I had on the right jersey, such as a make-shift samba parade where their dance turned into not-so-friendly futbol songs.

Relax - Being a beach culture many of the people are easy going, including with their perception of time. If a friend invites you over for dinner and drinks at 6 and you show up before 7 they will be a little thrown off and unprepared. Instead spend the extra time getting a tan and learning how to haggle with the beach people for your seat and some drinks at a non-gringo price. This also applies with comfort in proximity around other people, greetings often involve a hug and kiss on each cheek and with being a city of about 8 million you are bound to find yourself in a few crowded areas including beaches.

Will these tips allow you to easily blend in as a Carioca, probably not but it will help to make your transition to a Brazilian way of life a little bit easier. All I know for sure, is I will never recommend a Brazilian wax!

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5 Steps to live like a Carioca is a post from: Monkey Brewster

What is this Hippie Fair? It’s a big tourist attraction sure, but is also a great place to get some small inexpensive gifts and trinkets for others or yourself. If you want good luck try and find a figa, a Brazilian-African symbol that wards off evil spirits- but only when given as a gift. What you can’t ward off though is hunger but that is OK because you have a few great options. If you are feeling for some authentic spicy northern Brazilian dishes just walk around the edges and on the corner of Rua Prudente de Morais and Rua Jangadeiros you will find women wearing the furthest thing from beach wear yet serving delicious authentic dishes from northeastern brazil. If you want something Brazilian but with a little less spice try Casa da Feijoada located right around the same corner serving what else but feijoada. If you don’t know what feijoada is or just not a fan of a soupy delicious serving of what wouldn’t be considered the choice meat from a pig it might be better to order the feijoada light. On the other hand, shopping, interacting with other travelers and haggling in English has you hungry for something a little more familiar. If this is the case then go to Shenanigans a fun Irish pub located on the opposite side of the fair on Rua Visconde de Piraja. Here you can get your variety of potato plates and Irish beers served by a few Brazilian beauties.

The fact that you have a few great food options, a vast selection of Brazilian souvenirs and the ocean only a block away makes this a fun place to explore on a Sunday. Yet, what if you aren’t in Ipanema and it’s Friday or Saturday and you’re looking to explore northeastern Brazil without ever leaving Rio in a nonstop party format? You are in luck because if you find yourself in São Cristóvão make sure you explore the Feira Nordestina. This is the place for you, there is everything you need live music on a large stage, great food, unique souvenirs and plenty of entertainment. I personally recommend that if you are looking to buy a hammock in Rio that this is the place to find one for a better price than anywhere else.

The truth is there are plenty of places to shop in Rio not including the many malls, which to me seemed more for the higher class Brazilians, but these met all the requirements I needed shopping, food, beer and party(or beach which is an acceptable substitute). This might not mean much to me or some of you, but when I traveled with a serious shopaholic (I’m talking Samantha Brown like) and she loved these fairs. Sure she loved the malls too but this offered more of a connection with the people of Brazil…..shopping for her and food/beer for me.

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A Tale of Two Fairs is a post from: Monkey Brewster

The beauty of the aqueducts is something to take in with awe, as you scarf down your street vendor meal and beer. Sure they sell liquor but I’m always a little leery about drinking out of the already opened bottle, a freshly opened can of beer will do it for me. I recommend you hit one of the street side cafés and enjoy the live music, drinks and snacks for a while because the fun doesn’t begin till after midnight. A fun game to play while you watch people walk buy is guessing if the prostitute is pre or post op, that or watching the American male tourists flirt with a ‘woman’ who is more than meets the eye. Ultimately the ‘woman’ will wait till the opportune time to get her money and have him spring for the love motel, and that’s when the real surprise will come because this sultry Chiquita hides her banana somewhere other than her hat.

Somewhere between midnight and one find yourself down Rua do Lavradio to an amazing Samba club called Rio Scenarium Pavilhão da cultura. You don’t want to rush to get there too early because it will be dead and you’ll miss out on the street shows, but if you arrive too late be prepared for a long line. This place is packed with live samba music, beautiful people and three floors of dance entertainment. There is plenty of nooks and crannies to explore also, if you search near the bathroom on the second floor you will find a whole different dance floor with a live DJ. This place has a great vibe and is a sure way to enjoy yourself with some friends on an exciting night. There is a good mix of locals and travelers so even if you didn’t bring a date you can chat up someone and maybe even find a local help you to properly samba. This place goes until the early morning leaving you plenty of time to romance or drink up to your hearts content.

A final and slight forewarning, from the main strip of bars in Lapa this is a little bit of a walk down a side street and technically lands you in Centro Antigo part of town. This shouldn’t be any problem in your drunken stumble but if you feel uneasy about the walking the streets at night you can always have a taxi drop you off at:

Rio Scenarium

Rua do Lavradio, 20

Centro Antigo | Rio de Janeiro

www.rioscenarium.com.br

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A Lot O' Lapa is a post from: Monkey Brewster

We shall start where else but the national drink of Brazil, the infamous caipirinha (kai-pee-reen-ya). Every tropical coastal place has some fruity tasty drink that not only has an umbrella in it but should be drunk under one. Now I know this sounds like a frilly fufu drink but trust me this drink is predominantly made with a Brazilian rum like liquor named cachaça made from sugar cane. It is also know as pinga which refers to a guys umm banana in some Spanish slang, so when someone asks you to attend the pinga festival make sure you know if you are talking to a Brazilian or Puerto Rican – otherwise you might be surprised at what pops up. So what exactly is a caipirinha, well it is nothing more than sugar cane sugar, cachaça, crushed limes and ice all mixed together – yet creates something so delicious you will have to order a second and third. If the taste isn’t to your liking at first you can always ask for more sugar and adjust it to fit your taste buds. You can also order straight shots of cachaça but there is a difference between the cachaça that goes in your caipirinha and the cachaça that goes into a shot. If you get confused don’t worry the bartender should be able to assist you, and if not find your closest Brazilian and ask for some help and pay them with a celebratory shot as well.

“No,” you shout, “I’m a man; I make things out of metal and bronze. I don’t drink frilly fufu drinks.” This is an understandable dilemma because if it has sugar added to it and as a man there is no way this is allowed. You take a shot of cachaça straight and need something to wet your pallet, where do you go from here. Well luckily Brazil has a great selection of beers, which most happen to be a pilsner or pale lager beer. In hot temperatures you don’t want a thick and heavy dark beer resting in your stomach. So what do you order, well there is Brahma, Itaipava or Skol these are the three most common beers, Skol being considered the lower level of the three. You can ask for these by name or simply ask for a chopp (schop) which is usually a draft version of these three, in my experience most commonly chopp was Brahma. When you order a chopp expect a thin glass with ice-cold beer, it is as most advertisements claim – refreshing.

You can enjoy your small refreshing chopp, but if your manhood is calling I recommend you find yourself in Botafogo in a marketplace call Cobal. Here there are a few restaurants most of which serve a tower of beer, yup that’s right 3 liters of beer. This is like chopp on steroids. When I ventured into this behemoth of beer with two American soldiers on leave do you think we shared this tower each downing a liter. Ha, no we didn’t and neither shall you. We each ordered a tower, 3 liters apiece, and happily ate our meals which needed an extra table because it got in the way of our beer.

So now you know what to drink it is important that you know one major rule of drinking in Rio clubs. When you enter a club you are given a drink card, now this card has a list of all there drinks and boxes to be checked off for each time you order one. The plus of this is that it makes it easy for you to order your drinks, just point if you can’t pronounce it. It is very important that you don’t loose this card, if you do expect to pay a lot to get out of the club – visa cards accepted. So keep track of your card which can help you keep track of your drinks. You usually have two alternatives to cash out, either there is a person at the door that you pay or at/near the bar someone who cashes you out. It is a simple method as long as you keep track of you card.

Two last tidbits from me to you, if you notice you had one too many while consuming your tower of beer and want to order water there are two options água com gas or água sem gas. It is pretty simple once you understand what they are talking about, but when you are ever so slightly intoxicated it might cause a hang up. Água com gas is carbonated water and água sem gas is not, see I told you it was simple. The other jewel of knowledge I wish to share with you is a great drink I experienced in a town called Buzios, a few hours north of the city of Rio de Janeiro but still in the state of Rio de Janeiro. This drink is called Maracujack with the jack sounding like the French Jacque. Maracuja is Portuguese for passion fruit and the Jack part is for Jack Daniels. You make this drink with passion fruit juice, a shot (or more) of Jack Daniels and a table-spoon of sugar over ice. It sounds like a weird mix but I liked it. This is compliments of The Mix Bar in Buzios, but that is its own story best saved for another day.

Bom Noite!

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A Drinking Guide to Rio de Janeiro is a post from: Monkey Brewster