Botafogo, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil: 27 degrees, hot, Sunny and beautiful blue skies.
After a day and night of celebrations yesterday, I got up as usual early, but with only three hours’ sleep.
The girls, Nalva and her sisters, had organised a BBQ for 20 people, but there were only six. I ate a lot of meat, and good meat at that. It had been quite some time since I had enjoyed such a substantial amount of quality meat.
During the seven months in England, my mother bought some steaks now and then. They were good, but you can’t compare them to the abundance and quality of the meat here in Brazil.
The girls enjoy eating, drinking, and talking until the early hours. As I am a man, in the minority, and older than them, it becomes too much for me. I prefer to go to bed early, and they are aware of this and don’t mind. I believe they like it too.
I woke up around 6:00; everyone else was still asleep. I made the sofa bed and then went to the kitchen to wash and tidy up all the dirty dishes, the electric BBQ grill, and other items that had been filthy from the night before. I don’t mind doing it; it’s like therapy for me, especially today. I have always enjoyed doing it, and the feeling of satisfaction after everything is neat, tidy, and clean is very rewarding.
When everything was more or less tidy, I dressed for my workout, grabbed my gear, and headed to the street towards the park. There, I skipped, used the elastics and the TRX, and had a good session for a Sunday, which is usually a lazy, slow day.
When I returned, everyone was up and having breakfast. I had a shower and went out again to Copacabana. In the past, I would usually walk from Flamengo to Copacabana without thinking twice. I am still a little tired from the trip and last night.
As I stepped out of the metro in Copacabana, I was struck by the sheer number of people on the street, far more than I had seen in Flamengo. It was a beautiful day, and many were heading to the beach. Additionally, it was the day of the street fair, one of Rio’s largest markets. The fair takes place every Sunday and spans a block around all four sides of Praça Szerdelo Correa Square.
When I dated Katia in the past, I used to buy flowers from one of the stalls on the corner of Hilario do Gouvea Street, at the edge of the market, near the main street of Nossa Senhora. I bought flowers regularly, and they would sometimes offer me a small discount; the essence of a good tradesperson is to know how to negotiate and always carry cash for change.
When I arrived, they recognised me; we talked and negotiated, and I ended up buying four bunches of flowers arranged into two bouquets, which I thought were the perfect sizes for Dona Regina and Dona Vera.
Dona Regina lives nearby. She is an 85-year-old woman, a former ballerina at the municipal theatre of Rio de Janeiro, who was married for many years to Paulo Ferraz, one of Brazil’s wealthiest men. Eventually, he committed suicide because of chronic depression, leaving Regina with very little.
Now she has been married to Roberto for many years, and I like them both very much. It’s only a five-minute walk from the street fair, and I was already leaving her flowers in the building’s garage with the porter, who would deliver them to her a little later.
Then onto Dana Vera, another lady of roughly the same age. She lives in a penthouse on Rua Constante Ramos, a very well-known street in Copacabana. Supposedly, Dona Vera’s swimming pool is the largest residential pool in Copacabana. Whether this is true or not, I don’t know. Dona Vera is a widow of a doctor who died 15 years ago; she has three grown-up daughters, one of whom has been living in Sydney, Australia, for the last 20 years.
Again, I like Dona Vera very much. Both have strong personalities, but with me, they have been very loving and gentle, just like kittens.
Again, I left the bouquet with the porter, this time at the building’s reception. Sometimes, building porters work more often in the garages, near the main entrances. The South Zone of Rio de Janeiro is mainly residential, with many porters and cleaners working to maintain people’s homes and the infrastructure that keeps everything running.
Probably 90% of this army originates from the northeast of Brazil, migrating to Rio and other urban centres and regions in search of work, safety, and a better life. After leaving the flowers, I took the metro back to Flamengo, where we had a small lunch, still with plenty of leftover meat from yesterday, as there always is.
Yasmin and I had arranged to meet Jessica and Mario at 4:00 p.m. We were going to the cinema to see Furiosa. They picked us up in front of our building, and we went to Praia da Botafogo shopping centre just down the road.
When we got out of the car, we all kissed and hugged. I was thrilled to see my eldest daughter; she looked very well. Mario was slimmer than the last time I had seen him, a result of his foot volley classes, which he plays on the beach in front of their building. He had already started the classes before I went to England.
As we walked around the shopping centre, we all chatted, with Mario speaking more than Jessica. He asked me many questions about England and my plans, and I responded quickly. I think Jessica prefers Mario asking questions rather than herself. I feel even more distant from her, but perhaps this is just life, or maybe I am paying for something I did wrong in the past. All I want is for both Jessica and Yasmin to be closer, but so far, that has not happened.
The film was okay, nothing special, but it was lovely for everyone to be together again. They dropped us off, and we plan to have lunch together soon.
In bed by 9:30 p.m.
Thank you.
Thanks for reading this blog post. Please explore my other posts and share your thoughts in the comments section.
Richard
