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Brazil's most respected weekly magazine says that I'm a
Carioca. Let me be honest: I'm about as
Carioca as a jar of
Marmite. It's a testament to journalists' creativity, and the
fact that they leave everything
to the last minute, that
I managed to slip in between those pages.
By
David Alexander Robert
Well it's official: I'm a Carioca. It must be true because
Veja Rio says so. There I was, a whole paragraph, with
photo, saying how this Englishman has become a genuine
Carioca, as part of an article entitled "Os Personagens do Rio," (24
February 2003) commemorating the 438th birthday of the city. An important year, not to be overlooked.
I must confess, I felt quite honoured to be upon those glossy pages with the likes of the repairman of the Pão de
Açúcar cable car cables; the operator of the brand, spanking new lift at the statue of Christ; and the pilot of the aerial
advertisement plane that cuts through our cloudless, summer skies. An honour that I don't really feel worthy of.
Let me be honest with you lot, my fellow English speakers: I'm about as
Carioca as a jar of Marmite. It's a testament
to journalists' creativity, and the fact that they leave everything to the last minute, that I managed to slip in between those pages.
The reason I got picked in the first place was one of those roundabout,
Carioca stories of "I know someone who
knows a guy who..." I'd been teaching a fashion journalist at The British Council, who was securing her place at the London
School of Fashion, who heard from a friend that Fátima Sá of
Veja Rio was looking for a gringo living in Rio who speaks
Portuguese. I'm normally one who keeps a low profile, and I'm aware of the fact that many of my foreign friends lead far more
interesting lives than I do, but I accepted. This was a chance to talk about my project.
Before I know it I'm brewing the tea and pulling my crotch-sniffing dog, Sol, (a fine English pointer) from the lap of
Fátima, who isn't convincing anyone when she claims she's fond of dogs, especially Sol as he's about to get a clip round the
snout with a pad and pencil. The first question blisters from her mouth as she scolds her lip on the tea:
"So what d'you like about Rio?"
"Well..." I teeter between giving her what she wants and telling the truth. Sorry luv,
you just shouldn't have jumped on the first boat. "Well.... I'm a bit sick of
big cities. I just live here 'cos of my work. I'd rather be living in the interior of Minas."
"But there must be something you like about it," she appeals, thinking of her near-approaching deadline.
"Yep... there's... there's... The Tijuca Forest. I love the forest and the hills."
At last she finds a use for the pencil other than keeping that beastly hound at bay. She decides to run with the
nature theme:
"And the beach. Which beach do you go to?"
"I'm not really a beach person. Far too crowded and polluted for my liking."
She sips the ever-so-slightly cooled-down tea to wash down her disappointment, but it's only accentuated by he
fact that I didn't tip half the contents of the sugar bag into the teapot. She tries a new tack:
"So where do you go out to at night?"
"I'm not really going out very much at the moment. I'm really busy working, even at the weekends. I'm trying to save
money for a project I'm working on." I dangle the bait in front of her, but she doesn't bite. She's got an interview to salvage.
"Are you dating a Carioca woman?"
"Well I was for three years, but we split up over a year ago and I've been single since then. I just don't have the
time. Busy with my projects, you see."
Our objectives are now in the height of a cockfight, but she rules the roost:
"What's your favourite neighbourhood of Rio?"
"I like the eastern zone," she shakes her head, far too far away. I try again. "Niterói." She screws up her face in
disgust; it's another city you daft gringo. OK, third time lucky. "Santa Teresa?" Bingo. All gringos love Santa. The pencil finally
gets into gear:
"And where do you go out there?"
"Well, when I visit the godson, who's mum's Irish and dad's
Baiano, we all go to Bar Mineiro."
Oh, this is good stuff. I'm going beyond the gringo profile now. She relaxes a bit, politely drinks her tea and we get
chatting. We have mutual friends, well not friends really, those
Carioca friends who are really just acquaintances or people you met once.
Finally she asks about my project. She's fascinated; she licks her finger, flips
the page and says "this is a story in itself." I was hoping she'd see it that
way, 'cos that's why I'm doing this blasted interview. I need publicity to get sponsorship.
Running with the Santa Teresa theme, I'm called to have my photo taken at Bar Mineiro. It's mid morning and
coincidentally, on this very day, there's more staff cleaning the place than I have ever seen serving there, even on a packed
Sunday afternoon. We can hardly enter due to the tidal waves of thrown buckets of water beating against us. The shot is set up;
looking over those colonial houses, orange juice in hand _"but don't the English drink
caipirinha or beer?" ... "Couldn't you at
least hold one?"
It takes far too long to squeeze the oranges and I'm all hot and my shirt has sweat stains. Could I please go and
stand under the fan and dry off. No good, my internal heat conductor is tons more powerful. "Why don't we do it with my
shirt off, like those TV Globo actors," I suggest excitedly, already stripping. "Why don't you just leave your shirt to dry in
the sun?" they conclude.
It ends well. Finally dry, with shirt back on, my photo is taken and on the way back to the centre I make a comment
about renting my room out to gringos during carnival. She loves it. "You will mention my project?" I plead. "I'll try, but it
depends on the editor," she euphemises NO.
So what is this unmentionable project that keeps me from becoming a true
Carioca? Let me tell you. I plan to spend a
year travelling around the whole of Brazil in a VW Kombi, converted to live in, with the aim of writing a book about my
experiences. I will also be linking up young Brazilians with young people in Newcastle, where my brother is a teacher, on the email
through a series of workshops on 'e-palling' in English. I'm still looking for a sponsor. So if there's anybody out there...
One last thing. Does anyone know anything about VW vans?
David can be contacted on
davealexrob@yahoo.com
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