Copacabana, Rio de Janeiro: 35oC, very hot and sticky.
Sunday was similar to yesterday. I was up early and worked out at the park with Perola. Nowadays, she is my faithful companion when exercising at the park and walking around the neighbourhood on the way home.
I must not forget the coffee I had earlier before everything else. It is second nature for me to get up, go to the toilet, wash my face, put on some sun cream, change clothes, and grab my small pump bag, which contains a mini wallet with money and cards, pens, and my notebook or journal to write in.
The Portuguese bakery opens at 6:00 am. If you arrive earlier, several people are outside waiting to enter. The entrance to the bakery is open plan with no doors or windows, so it has a large entrance. While waiting outside, you can see the employees having breakfast before they begin. Some people seem a little hasty to buy bread, making it evident that they do not want to wait too long and are in a hurry. It is as if the world is ending, and they must have bread for breakfast before it is too late, especially on Sundays.
Sometimes, the shop manager lets the waiting customers in before 6:00 AM, even if the employees are still sitting and having breakfast. I do not enter because it is a lack of respect for the employees. As soon as the employees get up and the tables and chairs are free and in place, I enter, greeting anyone I pass with a good morning. The rest of the interaction is verbal communication until I need another coffee, which is served in a matter of seconds without much needing to be said.
Of course, I am neither rude nor arrogant to remain silent. I have been doing this for quite a while and have built a rapport with some of the girls there, especially young single mothers trying to make a living.
Women mainly run the bakery and cafe, with occasional male employees. While men work in other parts of the bakery, the cafe is predominantly staffed by women, often young girls starting their working lives. They may come from distant areas, a favela/slum, or a very impoverished part of Rio, which presents significant challenges.
I have been coming to the bakery since May, and it is already September. I have lost count of how many girls have come and gone. Why is that? The bakery is well-run, and everything is clean and tidy. It runs like a Swiss watch and a tight ship. It is obvious who the owner is and that he seems to be a little pushy and demanding, which is normal as it is his business. But the turnover of employees is exceedingly high, much higher than normal.
Is it also because the girls cannot handle the hard work, get up very early, and are being demanded so much by the Portuguese owner? That is very boring, inconvenient, and difficult. Is it also because it is a dead-end job with no future, and because of such high demands and a low salary, no one stays?
When I was thirteen, I worked in a bakery in Wollaston for several months. I had to be there by 5:00 am, so I had to get up even earlier as it was about two kilometres from where I lived. Waking up so early in the pitch-black darkness was tough, especially for a young teenager on a cold English morning. I remember being able to see my breath in the chilly air outside. I worked from 5:00 am to 2:00 pm, if I recall correctly. I did not enjoy the work very much and eventually left, but it was an experience, and all experiences are good in some way,
I did not consciously learn anything from it at that time. The only responsibility was to get up and be there on time, which is not something to devalue nowadays. Would I do it again? As I now know, making good bread for people is an art. It is an extraordinary art that makes people so happy; besides the smell, eating good bread is an incredibly special and happy experience.
Serving people well is an art; these professions and services are traditional in some ways. Doing them very well is difficult, but when they are done well, they are exceptional and should be respected. The people who do it should be admired. I am obviously talking about trades from the past that are, little by little, dying out.
The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, the bricklayer, the cobbler, the mason, the electrician, the plasterer, the painter, and many more trades. These trades are impressive and genuinely nice to see when they are done well. It is a pleasure to know the people who master these trades. Like all trades and arts, they need to be valued and appreciated.
I spent the entire Sunday afternoon working on “The Long Gringo,” creating, preparing, and posting posts. Some tweaks still need to be done on the site, but the site is improving every day. My plan for the coming week is to finalise the second site, “PlaceBeads,” and I will start working on it tomorrow.
As usual, Nalva cooked an excellent late lunch, and Yasmin is still not talking to me, but everything is good.
In bed by 10 pm.
Thank you.
Thanks for reading this blog post. Please explore my other posts and share your thoughts in the comments section.
Richard
