When I first went to Brazil in 2012 I went to meet, and stay with, Celina’s parents, who have lived for forty years in a suburb of Rio de Janeiro called Sāo Conrado. It wasn’t until my second trip that I realised that this is actually pronounced “Sock Ohardo.”; well, something like that! Now my fifth trip has come to an end and I feel compelled to describe this very unique place.

Sāo Conrado is west of Ipanema and Copacabana, and is physically separated from them by a mountain on the east side called Os Dois Irmāos (The Two Brothers) and on the west side by a larger mountain called Pedra da Gavea. To the north the Parque Nacional da Tijuca is a wonderland of trails, steep ravines and the usual flora and fauna. Until the late 1970s the only way to travel into the city was either along a narrow coast road that hugged one of the brothers (!) or through a shanty town called Rocinha. As the government’s house building programme failed to keep pace with the growing need, the people built their own shacks and so these ‘favelas’ grew, higgledy pigeldy, cheek by jowl, but the vehicular traffic through the area ensured public visibility. In 1978 the city engineers tunnelled through the Two Brothers (ouch!) and built a dual carriageway all the way through to Barra on the other side of Pedra da Gavea. Rocinha was bypassed and the only traffic that continued was the one concerning drugs! It became a dangerous place, dangerous for those who lived there and for those from outside. Nowadays the programme to clear the favelas of criminals is having an effect; visit Rocinha on an officially-sanctioned tour and you find a bustling suburb of 90,000 inhabitants, with fast-food outlets, banks, churches and all the normal commercial activity that’s needed to support a large population. They even have their own internal postal service; the government delivers mail to a sorting office and Rocinha does the delivery! It’s not perfect by a long shot and it’s not completely cleared of the insidious drugs, but it’s getting better. Sadly the wealthy residents of Sao Conrado still hang on to their memories of the dangerous times and this distorts their view of the place, blaming it for everything bad; apparently Rocinha in 2014 is very different to that 20 years ago.

From the top of Rocinha, the view across Sāo Conrado is stunning. Ignore the roofs of the favela, these days tiled and painted, in the foreground, and the ground drops away towards the coast, with tall blocks of apartments nestling near the beach and a large golf course split by the main road. And here’s one of the biggest visible sights of contrasting wealth in Brazil. From Rocinha, a poor crowded favela, you not only look at the swimming pools and expensive shopping ‘mall’, but also at one of the most exclusive clubs in the country, the Gavea Golf & Country Club (GGCC aka Gavea). The irony is that some of the people who live in Rocinha work at Gavea; others work in the up-market shops or as domestics in the large houses and apartments that proliferate. Is this a pure example of a symbiotic relationship? I’ve got to know this area well and it’s off the tourist routes, unless they want to launch themselves off Pedra da Gavea on hang gliders or parafoils.

The Gavea Golf Club started in the early 1900s; Celina’s grandfather was one of the founder members and lived in a house overlooking the golf course, so I am amazingly lucky, very privileged, to be able to experience life within the club. I hope I’m not being too hypocritical in saying I really enjoy this but at the same time understand its juxtaposition with Rocinha. This is a very very exclusive club …… but I can tell you …..

During the week it’s the old & bold generation who play golf, assisted by caddies in white uniforms and electric golf carts. Afterwards they sit in wicker chairs, drink Chopp (a light Brazilian beer), smoke cigars under the sun umbrellas and talk about that missed putt, that hole-in-one! In the early evenings and at weekends the younger members practise their swings and putts.  I’m not a golfer but there is nothing so wonderful as the sound of a perfectly hit golf ball, the sound of metal striking the hard case of the little ball; it’s a sound one occasionally hears here! When you’ve completed 9 holes you have to cross a road and through an underpass to the next five. Golf carts are not known for their acceleration and watching them wait for a break in the fast-moving traffic to cross to the underpass is slightly unnerving.

The course is beautiful, mown fairways and manicured ‘greens’, all tended by an army of groundsmen. Eighty foot palm trees stand sentinel across the course; monkeys chatter in the trees; and yet you can look up …… and see Rocinha, ……. and maybe on a Friday hear the fireworks that supposedly celebrate a delivery of drugs. I wonder what members think when they see Rocinha, sitting like a boil on the hillside, needing to be lanced, maybe? Maybe they don’t ‘see’ it, see it for what it is, maybe they’re just inured to the way life is here.

In addition to the golf course, there’s a swimming pool where members swim laps, play with their children, cool off or even take some exercise in an AquaAerobics class. In fact it’s only members who can use the extra facilities, of the gym for instance, but we managed to join the pool exercise class for a couple of months until we were spotted …. and banned! There’s always someone who wants to enforce club rules in a very petty way and Gavea is no exception. Maybe because its exclusivity is so jealously guarded they are needed, but The Toad and her deputy, a retired Head Mistress- type, take their self-appointed role extremely seriously. Woe betide anyone who stretches the rules. I did sneak a haircut in the members-only area and hoped that The Toad was snoozing under an umbrella. In the old-fashioned chair Ferdinand cut my hair well, offering well-thumbed copies of either Playboy or an International Yachting Magazine – I certainly couldn’t afford any of  the yachts and as for what was on offer in the Playboy Magazine ….?

I titled this PC “Reflections of Sāo Conrado” and I am reminded of the old adage “Treat people as you expect to be treated” when I observe people at Gavea. The staff here are unfailingly courteous, whether they are the security detail on the gate, the pool staff or the waiters. Nothing seems too much trouble – I guess being employed at Gavea is considered quite a bonus. No one yells “Sanduiche Natural” or “Biscuito Globo” here by the pool! Santos or Clovis appear as if from nowhere and dispense coffee, drinks, and refreshing food; the Japanese sashimi is to die for. One young pool attendant has an alarm call at 0330 so she can make the commute and be on time. Yet I watch the way some people interact with the staff and I think: “Come the Revolution …….!” And of course the current president of Brazil is an ex-Marxist guerrilla so it’s not such a wild thought!!

If you have young children in Brazil and you can afford it, you have a nanny. In fact the Brazilians I’ve met find it really strange that, for instance, my daughter Jade doesn’t. “How does she cope?” “She has two children and she doesn’t have help?” So at Gavea the nanny, dressed in a white T shirt, white shorts and white Havianas, (the ubiquitous ‘flip flop’) is a common sight.

The real irony of this area of Rio de Janeiro is that it is named after a saint who had a reputation for caring for the poor and disadvantaged. Maybe he shakes his head in disbelief when he walks the fairways of Gavea during the night, and looks up and sees Rocinha, its lights twinkling up the hillside. Edgy, incongruous, this is Sāo Conrado.

Richard Yates – richardyates24@gmail.com

Note: If you know absolutely nothing about golf, this is my brief explanation …. and I do not know much!!

You have to hit a ridiculously small ball as far as you can towards a distant hole, and try and get the ball into the hole. To make it easy they plant a colourful flag in the hole. Can’t miss huh?  You hit it with a club which is very special, a stick with a weight on the end, and they costs a fortune. There is no correlation between the cost of the club and the distance you can hit a ball. On most ‘holes’ you need to hit the ball more than once. The longest distance anyone anywhere has hit a ball is 515 yards, but normally 250 yards would be considered a good distance. It’s very competitive; the person who puts the ball into the hole with the least number of hits wins. Simple huh?

 

 

Paraty or Picinguaba? Such a difficult choice; by reputation two of the most beautiful locations on the coast between Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo, and certainly two wonderfully exotic-sounding places!! Picinguaba is to the west of Paraty, and is a beach resort guaranteed to provide a place to unwind, a place to watch men fish and maybe to eat their catch; they’ve named the village after the indigenous tribe that lived here in the C16th. Paraty (pronounced Parachee) is closer to Rio by 40 minutes and has centuries of history – sounded perfect! Dear Brazilian chums of Celina in London had stayed at the Pousada Porto Imperial and had enjoyed it enormously. We booked online; it took a phone call to persuade them not to insist on my photocopying my passport and both sides of the credit card, scanning and sending them!! Accommodation in good hotels in Brazil is not cheap but the Porto Imperial did not disappoint in any respect and its location was excellent.

The commercial development of São Paulo and Minas Gerais during the C17th and C18th relied heavily on the development of Paraty as a port, an outlet for their exports, sugar, gold and coffee, to Portugal; in fact the road from São Paulo became known as the Caminho do Ouro (Gold Way). Latterly, as the drinks industry developed, casks of the Brazilian liquor Cachaça, distilled from sugar cane, joined the trail. Paraty was one of the most important ports in Brazil before Port Santos was built, closer to São Paulo, and loved by the Imperial family. Now it’s one of the best preserved Portuguese colonial towns, and may eventually become a World Heritage site.

With the hotel on the eastern edge of the old town, you can walk out of the front door ….. and into the C17th. Well! Almost! It’s easy to sense the ghosts of townspeople past, the traders, the fishermen, the sailors, their feet on the old cobbled streets. Half close your eyes and the throng, noise and bustle of this past life becomes imaginable. The buildings may have been turned into restaurants and bijoux shops selling locally-made arts and crafts, but the structure hasn’t changed. Well-proportioned single storey buildings, with only the odd church, such as the church of Igreja da Matriz Nossa Senhora dos Remedios standing in the main square, and larger mansions, boasting a second level. This was a small town, the old part no bigger than 200m wide and 300m long.

The streets are paved with an uneven collection of stones, the forerunner of the uniform cobble. The centre of the street has a more level line, well, comparatively (!!), probably for the  wheel of a hand cart. If you’re unsteady on your feet, this is not the place for you; but you do get used to it and tread carefully. The only disadvantage is you tend to be looking down at where your feet might go next, and not up at the architecture. One of the tour guides said that physiotherapists did a roaring trade tending sprained and twisted ankles. On the seafront the church of Igreja de Santa Rita Postal de Paraty has become the iconic pinup of Paraty. Fish is plentiful and fresh here, and we ate at Batholomew’s and at the Banana Da Terra. Both restaurants would do well in London; wonderful food but sadly comparable prices!

We had two complete days so decided to spend one on the sea and one in the hinterland. Like all coastal towns that depend on tourism, there are plenty of options. Neptun II, a 30m yellow schooner, provided exactly what it said on the tin. In the company of some 50 others from all around the world, we sailed off into the bay, to anchor off a beach to swim, to watch the colourful fish and dolphins, to visit other islands in the bay, and to have lunch on board. The canned music was tolerable, drinks were available, and the crew did everything they could to ensure we had a fun and safe time.

Fabio drove the truck the next day and was our guide for our trip into the Atlantic Forest, part of the National Park of Bocaina Mountain. A teacher of Capoeira (see note below) and a boat skipper, he took us to the obligatory Cachaça distillery where at 1100 in the morning you are invited to taste this very Brazilian drink – and of course make a purchase in the shop. The sugar cane takes 6 months to grow and develop its juice; the cropping and manufacturing process starts in May and runs until November. Then on to Pedra Branca, a large waterfall with swimming pools and roaring cascades. Strange to swim in natural water that’s not salty! Absolutely beautiful; miles from anywhere, floating in a rock pool, I could easily have imagined I was in paradise – if I could have shut out the noise of all the other tourists, that is!

Another Cachaça distillery, another torrent of water tumbling over smooth rocks, bumping along jungle trails, Avocados hanging from the trees, wild Banana plants growing by the roadside; a nice change from the beach …. and the sea!

Paraty has a more modern commercial part, stretching further inland, but it’s the old town which attracted me so much. No cars, no bright street lights, the houses all painted white with colourful shutters and doors often of differing colours; and I even got to love the strange ‘cobbles’.

Richard Yates – richardyates24@gmail.com

P.S. Incidentally, in the UK if we think ‘international book festivals?’ we think of Hay-on-Wye; here Brazilians think of Paraty, where there is a huge festival during the winter!

Note: Capoeria

Capoeira is a Brazilian form of Martial Arts, combining elements of dance, acrobatics and music. It was developed by the slaves who came from Africa to labour in the sugar cane plantations. Through Capoeira they learned how to fight and defend themselves, but disguised this as a dance, thus escaping punishment. With the abolition of slavery in 1888 those trained in Capoeira became a nuisance in the cities. As a consequence, the teaching of it was banned in 1890 and that ban not lifted until 1941. Today masters of Capoeira, Capoeiristas, teach all over the world and the Martial Art has a huge following.

It’s a little known aspect of life in Brazil but there is something of a fixation on the bottom here. Is it the only country in the world to have a competition for the most beautiful bottom? Have you ever heard of Andressa Soares aka Mulher Melancia (Watermelon Woman), who’s famous for having an enormous bottom that she shakes and …….. you know the sort of thing? For those with more time on their hands than sense, look at her on YouTube.

Why do I feel the need to tell you this, to add this as a postscript to my PC about beach life here in Brazil? Well, I had talked about the dental floss and how popular it is. A few weeks ago, we were on our way back from the beach to find a cab and we were walking up a side street full of parked cars. It was that time of day when families leave the beach for home, and ahead of us a couple were loading their beach paraphernalia into their car boot; they had a young child so there was a lot! The woman hadn’t bothered to cover up and was still as she had been on the beach. Celina drew my attention to the fact that her dental floss had, er!! shrunk? It was going to be one of those situations when you had to drum up courage to pass by on the pavement …… just as I did, she leant over the boot. I should say at this point that she probably would not have made the regional heats for the Best Bumbum Competition (Yes! Really! That’s what they call a bottom here – bumbum!!). I have never been so close to so much exposed cellulite on a public street in my life; I squeezed past, averting my eyes and trying not to cry, laugh, get stressed, feel awkward.

I do think my heart rate increased though so was glad I’d had that bypass!!

Just thought I would share this with you!

Richard Yates – richardyates24@gmail.com

Rio de Janeiro is famous for its beaches, for their proximity to the centre of the city and therefore for their ease of access, for their cleanliness, for the clarity of the water. And Brazilians love the beach; as the sun comes up the beaches and paved areas come alive with joggers, walkers, fitness fanatics, swimmers, surfers, volley ball players. The names of two beaches, Copacabana and Ipanema, are recognised throughout the world. Maybe people come just to search for that girl on the latter?!

When we go to the beach we go to the 18km long beach of Barra da Tijuca, which starts some 6kms west of Sāo Conrado; it’s only 10 minutes by taxi as opposed to 40 to Ipanema – such is the traffic in the city!

The beaches are overlooked by Life Guard stations located every 500m or so. From here fit men and women keep an eye on what’s happening, and help those in difficulties. Despite the lovely looking water the offshore currents are strong and potentially dangerous. Beach sports proliferate; put up a net, stake out an oblong, and the ball gets punched backwards and forwards. Closer to the sea a couple will hit a small hard ball to each other with a table tennis-like bat; it’s known as Fresco ball. Again, and again and …….. the hard ball on hard wood produces a sound that carries across the sand ……the sound of beach life in Brazil. Some days we walk along the sand, just on the water’s edge, from Life Guard station 2 down to Number 5 or even 6 or maybe (!) 6½! If you get too hot, the sea is cool and refreshing.

“Sanwhitches Natooral, Sanwhitches Natooral!” In Portuguese this is actually ‘Sanduiche Natural’, but this is how my untrained ear hears it. For me it epitomises this beach life in Brazil. The chap carries a coolbox over one shoulder, but his body is bent by the uneven weight, his head bowed and he seems to drag his feet through the hot sand, forever crying “Sanduiches Natural” with great enthusiasm! Honestly, would you ever want a sandwich when it’s 36°C? He’s become so familiar to me that when I don’t hear him, I wonder whether he’s OK!! But he’s not the only salesman; you hear them all shouting their sales pitch down the beach – “Mate!” (pronounced ‘matchee’) – a strong sweet tea in a can, “água!”, “chapeu” (think Panama-style hat),  sun tan lotion, bikinis, wraps, and of course “Biscuito Globo”. This thin doughnut-shaped ‘biscuit’ isn’t really a biscuit as you or I would know it. It’s made of polvilho flour, is extremely light, and in the beach environment, just to die for!! Anywhere else you would think: “What is this tasteless, flavourless snack”!!! At weekends an enterprising Brazilian of Arab decent (?) rides a fibreglass orange camel, the panniers stuffed with kebabs and other Middle Eastern food. It is SO bizarre, the Arabian music heralding his progress down the beach, his helpers pushing and pulling the camel, and people queuing up to purchase his food. The cash box is under the tail!

Every now and again there’s a Barraca, a temporary tubular steel construction of shade from which you can hire chairs, an umbrella and buy cold drinks. The one near Life Guard station Two is run by Severina. She is an absolute delight. Fifty something, during the week she runs a small shop; during the weekend her Barraca is the centre of beach gossip and wisdom. She’s known Celina for many years and welcomes us in true Brazilian style. Call from our chairs for some ‘água sem gas’ and a Zero Coke, and she dives into her huge cool box and hands them to Mineiro. He’s in his 80s, needs a knee operation and is not a good example of dental health; he hobbles across the sand, oblivious of its scorching temperature, and smiles as he hands them across. He loves being useful!

Brazil is famous for its beaches and for its beautiful people. There has been a gradual move away from near nudity in the carnival parades of the past and it’s little known internationally that being topless on a beach is unlawful. But I’m never quite sure when reality ends and imagination begins; never more so than on the beach! We all know that Brazil invented the ‘Brazilian wax’ ……. and it doesn’t take long on a beach here to understand why it was necessary. You know that term ‘dental floss’? Well, some women spend a huge amount of money for very little material to go around ‘you know where’. And the men? Well, they simply ‘strut’ and ‘pose’. Tattoos are numerous and colourful, upper bodies are honed, smoothed and packed  …..  and then they just stand, like a peacock, flexing, puffing, colourful. There are, of course, more numerous ‘normal’ people, of varying shapes and sizes, just enjoying the sunshine.

Further to the west are the smaller beaches of Prainha and Grumari, where the biggest waves in Rio de Janeiro attract numerous surfers. You need a car to get here, out beyond the urbanisation, and the undertow on the beaches discourages families with young children; worth the drive if only for the lack of other people. But there are no cries of “Biscuito Globo” or “Sanduiches Natural” and, despite the thunder of the waves and the yells of the surfers having fun, it isn’t quite ‘beach life in Brazil’!

Richard Yates – richardyates24@gmail.com

The beat is incessant, the rhythm infectious; welcome to Samba time in Brazil! You can’t help but join in, unless your feet are nailed to the earth; even staid cool Englishmen move, if only a little, a gentle shake here, a loose hip there.

I certainly had no real knowledge of what ‘Carnival’ meant here. I understood it took place over four days before Ash Wednesday and involved everyone, but imagined street parades with floats and dancers and extravagant costumes. Back when it started in 1823 it might have been, but now it is more, much more …..

Firstly there are the Blocos, street parties where seemingly anyone who can create a stand for a DJ and/or a singer, order the beer, simply has to wait for the crowds of 20-30 year olds to turn up and party, some in crazy costumes, some smeared with paint; Oh! And it needs to be next to the beach if possible. ‘Carnival’ here is a holiday and the local newspaper named 90 places where there would be a bloco. Sadly the rhythm of Samba seemed absent from the ones we heard, replaced by techno or somesuch, but my sources say this is not usual. My abiding memory is of huge unattractive noise during the gathering and huge unattractive rubbish everywhere when it was all over. The Rio street cleaners chose Carnival this year to stage a three day strike over wages; they’ve now been offered a monthly salary of Rs1200 (£300). I feel sorry for them as they clearly take pride in cleaning somewhere, only for uncaring souls to drop more rubbish, the beer can, the take-away food wrapper. Sadly I sense this is the same the whole world over; certainly London and Brighton are not immune from this loutish behaviour.

The Samba Schools represent both ordinary neighbourhoods and favelas and are a hugely important part of the social fabric of these communities. Whilst the actual carnival parade may take a school just one hour, the work in deciding on a theme, in designing the costumes, in making them, in rehearsing – in fact the thousand and one things that go into making a successful endeavour – will start for the 2015 carnival in the next few weeks!

The Samba Schools here in Rio parade not along the streets any more, but in the Sambodromo. This unique stadium was designed by the Brazilian architect Oscar Neimeyer; completed in 1984, it is a 13 metre wide stretch of concrete, 700m long, with banks of 14 viewing stands on both sides. The Sambodromo has a capacity of 90,000 and will form part of Rio’s Olympic facilities in 2016. (For what I’m not sure!!) Each school gets an allotted start time for their parade; with over 5,000 people in each school, the timings are sensibly flexible, but you can imagine the logistical nightmare of getting the right group into the right place at the right time. The schools compete to go into the Special Group, the winner of which gains enormous prestige and kudos.

So now I have a better idea of what one aspect of carnival is all about but then you have to get some tickets. You might think it was easy, reasonably straight forward; Celina will tell you otherwise. After looking at vaguely official websites and worrying that they might just take your money and run, she rang around some hotels and found Livia in the Hotel Windsor in Barra. After 36 hours of telephone calls we secured two tickets for one of the viewing stands, Number 11, opposite the judges for the Sunday night. (See below) I say night because nothing starts until 2100, and the last samba school, Beija Flor, was not scheduled to start until 0350!! Start!! Not finish!! But this is Rio de Janeiro …….

We bought tickets for a coach from the hotel and arrived at the Sambodromo rather late due to the traffic, after the first school had started. One is assaulted by noise, by the Samba beat, by people singing and sellers selling beer and soft drinks. We climbed up into Stand 11, up and up, until we stood at the very top, hemmed in on all sides by the multitude of people, mainly locals but a smattering of tourists from all over the world; there was no space left in the concrete stand to sit so we stood!. The sheer enormity of the spectacle is awesome; thousands and thousands of people, in the parade, on the stands, staffing it, security, stretching the half-a-mile down to the start. It didn’t seem necessary but to herald the start of the next school, we had 5 minutes of fireworks, cracking, whistling, banging overhead.

Each Samba school decides a theme, and the floats and dancers interpret the theme, telling the story. They say Brazil is a creative country; well, the creativity and sheer exuberance on display here is breath-taking. To the inexperienced ear, the ‘samba’ beat remains the same, only the words to the songs peculiar to the school, but the costumes, colour and displays vary so much and are simply amazing. Gradually the next parade moves along between the stands, each set of dancers showing off their outfits with a vibrancy and enthusiasm that emphasised the fun and delight that they obviously all feel, to take part in the “Greatest Street Carnival in the World”.  We felt really privileged to have seen it.

Celina has a Latin sense of rhythm and for her the sound that gets her on her feet is the sound of the drummers. These Bateria play a vital role, keeping the beat going and loud enough to be heard by the parade participants. In the Sambodromo there were possibly 300 drummers in each Bateria, creating sounds out of a huge variety of drums.

Time slipped by. I got rather blasé about what I saw, judging one better than another, more of the same, but different!! Eventually after a school called Mangueira were half way through, we decided to make our way down to a coach; it was after all 0255! We were in bed by 0400 and learned later that there was still a traffic jam around the Sambodromo at 0730. What an experience; what a night!

Whilst the spectacle of the Sambodromo was huge, electric but impersonal, one evening the previous week we had gone done to the beach at Sāo Conrado and watched the local samba school of the Rocinha favela practise. Here the bateria was 60 people …… 6 feet away! You could see the concentration on their faces, these creators of the beat, their joy at being part of such a family, the sweat; people started dancing ……. “and the beat goes on”, as they say. This is where it all starts, with a group of people wanting to dance to the samba beat.

Listen to the beat and smile

Richard Yates – richardyates24@gmail.com

PS If you ever go to Rio for Carnival book through Central Liesa de Atendimento in Rio de Janeiro. Ticket prices vary enormously.

 

 

 

 

 

The road to Petropolis, a one-way dual carriageway, rises up from sea level into the green and lush mountains where the city lies. The air is clearer here, almost 10 deg C cooler than on the coast and the pace of life more relaxed. We arrive at the central bus station after an uneventful 90 minute trip from the centre of Rio. One of the great aspects of life in Brazil is the quality of the loos and after our long journey this is where we head! Celina suddenly asks: “Have you got your passport?” …….. and here’s me thinking I’m just going to have a pee! “Yes!” I reply, not really understanding the significance of the question. Whilst in the UK we don’t have a national ID card, they do here in Brazil and it’s often asked for, so it’s advisable to carry one’s passport for ID purposes ……. I pull it from my pocket. The Loo Attendant (note the capital letters!) scrutinises it …….  and suddenly I am waived through the turnstile without paying  – being over 65 can be an advantage here!!!!

Whilst history was not one of my favourite subjects at school, I now love finding out how certain events have shaped nations and been catalysts for change. If history bores you, skip this bit! When Napoleon was rampaging through the Iberian Peninsula in the early 1800s, confronted amongst others by the Duke of Wellington, the Portuguese Royal family decided Lisbon was too dangerous and sailed for their colony Brazil. After Napoleon’s defeat in the Peninsular War, his failure to win at Waterloo, and his exile to St Helena, the Portuguese king, Juan VI, decided it was safe to return to Portugal. His (crafty?) son stayed on and in 1822 declared himself king, Pedro I, of an independent Brazil. King Pedro I liked Rio de Janeiro but found the summer insufferably hot, so decamped to the mountains some 90kms north, and started the construction of a palace. Well, he didn’t, obviously; he told some senior officials who told some lesser minions and so the palace was built ……. and Petropolis was founded in 1843. Pedro I eventually went back to Portugal and his son, Pedro II, and his family would spend the hot months here and it flourished as the summer court. German farmers from the Rhineland were encouraged to immigrate and to settle on the King’s outlying lands, to help give the palace a charming urban setting. The city becomes a magnate for the rich and famous, all anxious to be connected in some way to the Royal Family and it remained the centre of Brazilian society until the declaration of The Republic in 1889. Their huge ostentatious mansions, now either owned by the State or by medical clinics, stand as a reminder of a bygone age. Petropolis was the official capital of the state of Rio de Janeiro between 1894 and 1902, when that status transferred to the city of Rio. (What if Napoleon hadn’t lived? What if the King of Portugal hadn’t spent time in Brazil? What if his son hadn’t stayed? What if …..??)

We stayed in the summer house of Celina’s father Carlos’s half-sister Teresa, who sadly remained in Rio but who had ensured we had a comfortable night. Her house is very central and lies just behind the Cathedral of São Pedro. The cathedral is made of grey granite and reminded me of something Scottish, although it had been designed by a Frenchman. A small side chapel holds the remains of King Pedro II, his wife Teresa, their daughter Isabella and her French husband Count d’Eu.

The Imperial Palace is now the Imperial Museum, housing memorabilia of the family including the Imperial crown; it’s worth a visit. And for those who run stately homes and palaces worried about the wear and tear on the floors of countless visitors, do what the Imperial Museum does; soft slippers that fit over your shoes are provided, so you can glide around without scratching the floors! A little like speed-skating I suppose; never done it but I imagine?

Another interesting place to visit is a quaint little house built for the Father of Aviation Alberto Santos-Dumont. Whilst history debates whether he or the Wright Brothers could claim the title, this quirky rich son of a coffee plantation owner certainly flew the first heavy-than-air machine supported by a wheeled undercarriage in 1906. Most of his life he spent in France where his aviation inventions are hugely admired. His friendship with Louis Cartier led to the latter designing him a watch he could wear on his wrist, as he needed two hands to pilot his aeroplane and couldn’t look at his pocket watch! He developed MS and returned to his native Brazil in 1931, settling in Petropolis. Look on-line at this house and see the staircase that can only be used if you start with the right foot! His suicide in 1932 is generally thought to be caused not only by his depressed feelings about his MS but also the guilt he felt that his machines were being used in warfare, locally in a 6 month conflict in the state of Sao Paulo.

Growing up in England I used to believe that virtually all the important inventions in the world had been made by the British. Then I began to understand that that wasn’t quite true, that actually the Americans had had a few successes, not to mention the French, then that actually the Chinese had invented everything before everybody else …… and now I have to accept that it was a Brazilian who first flew a heavy-than-air machine and not the Wright Brothers. Heh! Ho!

Back to Rio the following day, a longer journey timewise because of the traffic. We came down to Barra de Tijuca which lies just to the west of the suburb of Sao Conrado and is the site of the main Olympic park for 2016. There is a new bus station and by 2016 the new Metro extension will link Barra with central Rio; currently it’s a huge construction site.

Hope all’s well with you. Smile!

Richard Yates – richardyates24@gmail.com

For those of you suffering the wet and stormy weather in England …… look away now!

Down in Cananeia, when the water in the swimming pool is too warm to be refreshing, you might think one would head out to a beach in a boat. Here the sea was equally warm, maybe even too warm ….. but you have to grin and bear it just the same!

Have just come back from a week in Sāo Paulo and Cananeia, two contrasting places. Sāo Paulo is the largest city not only in Brazil but also in South America with a population of about 11 million; Cananeia is a small coastal town on the border of Sāo Paulo and Parana States. It was founded in 1531 by the Portuguese and lies 300 kms to the south west, sitting on an island in the middle of a tidal estuary – population? 12,000 except during the holiday period when it goes up enormously!!

Celina’s cousin Teresa has an apartment in Sāo Paulo and a beach house in Cananeia. In Sāo Paulo we ate in Japanese and Russian restaurants, visited the large covered market where I tried to eat a Mortandela (see note below!), went to the Bikram studio three times and generally enjoyed our time there. The city, famous for its horrendous traffic and mixed weather, was sunny and the traffic flowed (for us). The part where Teresa lives, Jardins, reminded me of Sydney in Australia although there is no sea!

To drive to Cananeia, you take the main road that runs to Curitiba; it is heavily trafficked with lorries, lorries with trailers, coaches and lots of cars. For a 30km stretch they are building a fourth lane to complete the dual carriageway nature of this arterial road. It should have been finished 3 years ago; the money was granted … but this is Brazil, and not all the money made it to the construction company, hence the delays ….. maybe another 2 years!! It was a long drive to Cananeia and an even longer return!

Cananeia is one of those coastal towns that begs investment ……. but you sense it would spoil it. What price progress for the holiday hideaway where the pace of life is extremely slow, Main Street is a collection of colourfully painted shop fronts, old Portuguese naval canons guard the town hall and the fish shop, in addition to selling all sorts of fish, sells shells, model boats and nautical stuff, all ‘Made in China’!

How do you spend your time in Cananeia? You have a late breakfast, take chill bins loaded with drinks and snacks down to a motor boat, head out to an island offshore or negotiate the inland mangrove channel between the mainland and the Ilha do Cardosa  …….. and find an empty beach; there are many to choose from! The water was warm, the sun strong and hot, the sky that beautiful blue that makes one feel good to be alive. Later you watch pink dolphins playing in the estuary as you head back for a very late lunch; so late that supper is a help-yourself!! On one of the islands, in a little cove that rumour had it had been used by pirates, we found a small crocodile. Teresa’s son Henrique, aged 13, decided to lasso it, hold it up for the photograph (!) before he was persuaded to let it go. When we got back to the beach house, it was about 3 seconds before he was pestering me to email the photograph to him to show his chums – wonderful street cred, I guess, especially if you’re 13!

Some of you may remember me mentioning that my maternal grandmother Grace Corbett’s father was born in Recife, in the North East of Brazil, in 1850. Some of his brothers and sisters married and stayed here. Celina found a Corbett Moreira in Sāo Paulo, who is indeed a relative; there are others. It had been our intention to have lunch with her on Monday, but for some reason she’s staying with her son in Rondonia, up by the border with Bolivia …… a three day camel ride maybe. So we didn’t!!

We trust you’re well and enjoying life.

Love etc

Richard Yates – richardyates24@gmail.com

P.S. Mortandela is probably the largest ‘sandwich’ I’ve come across. The bread bun must be 15 cms diameter and the filling? 20 pieces of thinly sliced processed meat or turkey interlaced with cream cheese. I struggled to eat half!

January is the month of holidays here in Brazil (the UK equivalent of August!) but they ended today and everyone is back to work, back to school. And the traffic is back, making trips within the city long and frustrating, with journey times unpredictable.

Weather seems to have dominated the news across the globe in the past month, with extremes in both hemispheres. Here pictures of Christ the Redeemer (Cristo Redentor – Corcovado) surrounded by lightning during an electrical storm were surpassed a couple of days later when lightning struck his right hand, causing damage! As to the heat, well, 35-39 deg C seems to cover it, with night-time temperatures rarely below 28 ….. but then it is Summer. Rain? Er! Once in the last 4 weeks.

A lot of people we know seem to be planning to leave Rio or Sao Paulo during the football World Cup, 17 June – 17 July. Rather like in the run up to the London Olympics, the prophets of doom here imagine a rather chaotic month, but one hopes the reality will be different. Down south in Curitiba, they have until the 18th of February to finish a stadium, or all the games planned there will be moved elsewhere. Pressure! Pressure!

Last Saturday had a day’s sailing. Celina has a friend, from decades ago and who lives in Paris, whom she asked whether she knew anyone with a yacht in Rio. “Well, my brother has ….!!” …….. and this led us to last Saturday, boarding a 38ft yacht with Sergio, Ricardo and Larissa Mirsky and sailing out of Guanabara Bay heading for Niteroi, East of Rio. The weather in this part of the world is generally good for sailing and so it was, with a pleasant breeze, clear sky and a strong sun. We found a good anchorage off a crowded beach, ordered a huge Anchovy (fried!), some pastel (rather like a Cornish pasty without the Cornish!!) and other Brazilian croquette-like fried vegetable Manjoc called Aipim, which was all duly delivered by boat. We sailed back in the early evening, past Sugar Loaf Mountain which forms the western edge of the bay’s entrance and old Portuguese naval fortresses which line the eastern edge, into the Rio de Janeiro Yacht Club (Iate Club RJ) around 7pm having had a great day.

It’s an odd thing to do, maybe, to go to the cinema when the sun’s out and it’s 30 C in the early evening, but we went and saw the Wolf of Wall Street last week. I’d seen a video clip of a discussion between two Times film critics (one Kate Muir) in my digital newspaper, one who liked it and one who thought it overly long. We both liked it and thought Leonardo di C brilliant as Jordan Belfort – highly recommended!

Amazing to think at the end of this week we’ll be half way through our 12 weeks here in Brazil. Time flies when you’re having fun, huh?

Keep in touch.

Love etc

Richard Yates – richardyates24@gmail.com

One of the benefits of having to be a patient, and being patient (!), in Hove late last year was being given an iPad by Celina. Here in Rio I’ve been reading my digital Times and have obviously seen pictures of the terrible wet/cold weather that the UK and USA have been having, in contrast to the hot weather here in Latin America and in Australia. Today’s Times has a wonderful picture of lightening all around the statue of Christ the Redeemer during a thunderstorm on Monday night. There have been photos of waves washing over Brighton seafront and, from friends on Facebook, of pebbles on the promenade. In Portland, Weymouth, a huge 150 million year old rock stack simply disappeared into the sea. I know from Facetime with Jade yesterday that it hasn’t stopped raining. ……. but we haven’t heard from our dear neighbour who’s keeping an eye on our apartment in Amber House so assume the excess water has kept away.

We’ve been to Bikram in Botofogo, a central/south part of Rio, about 3 times a week since we arrived and been taught by Kristina, a Czech who taught in our Hove studio, twice. She’s simply loving the teaching and also living in Rio. My first class here was awful, simply awful, and I thought I would never go back ….. but you do!! So So So humid!!

I was saying to Celina that it’s funny being here, and knowing we’re here for three months. Never done this before, being away from my ‘home’ for so long. I guess this is becoming my second home and that’s a delight!! Of course we miss so much about England and our lives there, but we certainly do not miss the weather!

Incidentally whenever I look at pictures of blue seas I imagine them to be warm. Sometimes the sea here is warm, very warm, depending on the prevailing currents, but more often than not it’s cold; rather like Wineglass Bay in Tasmania or Cloudy Bay in NZ! So don’t imagine the beach is always an attractive option!!

Celina’s father Carlos had his 80^th birthday dinner at the Gavea Golf & Country Club last Saturday and was surrounded by family and ex-colleagues. He even had an enormous cake, although not of the cardboard type out of which might have jumped some scantily clad lady!

Talking of the club, we’ve caught up with a couple who have had a torrid time. A few days after we left Rio mid-May last year, they returned from the USA. On the flight, Jim started feeling unwell, went to hospital when they landed ……… had a heart attack and a stroke …….. and now, 7 months later, is trying to walk with a useless right arm/hand and feelingless right leg. We watch him in the club pool trying to work muscles that don’t respond. Seeing him reminds me, as if I need reminding, of how lucky I am, alive and now healthy!!

Hope 2014 is going to bring you some of what you want and most of what you need.

Love etc

Richard Yates – richardyates24@gmail.com

 

We are fit and well and it’s probably about time I summarised what been happening.

The period since August has been interesting and as the interval between my heart bypass and the present increases, so the memory softens. I’ve got used to my chest scar being normally a little ‘tight’ and it’s just part of me now. I’ve been signed off by the surgeon, who commented he wished all his patients were as motivated as me to get going again after the operation!

My second grandson Reuben was Christened on 1st December and, as this was 2 days after his brother Jasper’s 2nd birthday, Jade invited ‘friends & family’, which in her case was about 110 people, to tea in the church hall. A real chance to get together and some relatives I hadn’t seen for 25 years so a fun tea party.

Last Saturday Celina and I had some people to ‘Christmas Drinks & Nibbles’ – mainly fellow Bikram students and a few neighbours from Amber House. And four people just cancelled at the last moment – in fact one chum said he was coming and then just didn’t turn up – sorry, ex-chum!!

We will be with Jade & Sam on Christmas Eve for a huge family get together (another!!), here in our apartment on Christmas day, then back to J&S on Boxing Day, and from there drive up to Heathrow for our flight to Rio the following day. It’ll be seven months since we were with Celina’s parents so neither of us can wait to get on that flight – and get out into 35°C!! Her father will be 80 on New Year’s Day so lots to celebrate.

We’re going to be in Rio until the end of March; in fact we come back the weekend the UK changes to British Summer Time – how cool is that!! And we also have heard a whisper that Celina’s parents might come over here –ostensibly to see us but I suspect just to get away from Brazil during some football matches. It will be wonderful if it happens!

So, have a great Christmas, look out for the odd emailed “PC from Rio”, and good fortune in 2014. Actually talking of PCs, I have a real one of Rio with Christ the Redeemer, the city and Sugar Loaf Mountain; the statue normally overlooks the city but in this PC they have ‘photoshoped’ the image and turned the statue around to look towards the viewer!! Looks weird!

Love etc

Richard Yates – richardyates24@gmail.com

Psssttt!! Do you want to be my friend on Facebook? So far I have 4!!