I’m such a routine oriented guy. I’ve spent 2 nights in Rio and already have my favorite coffee shop. They make a pretty great americano although it’s not on the menu and you have to explain what you need. But I got my guy there and he’s fucking on it. Two coffees, a small loaf of bread, cheese curd, half a papaya, butter and jam. Best breakfast ever. On and R$15 — about 8 bucks. And that’s expensive. I will go every day until I leave.
I’m in Rio and I bought flip-flops. I hate flip-flops. I hate the word. If I break a toe I’m kicking someones ass. Next thing I’ll be wearing a fucking speedo.
it’s been a quiet few days here in Belo Horizonte. Steve and I have spent some quality time together (we even went to the movies, Lions for Lambs, on Saturday), eating meals, giving unsolicited advice and planing and plotting. Sunday we went to a concert (a show - everything is a show here) of a singing, dancing, poetry reciting madman from the state of Bahia (the northeast coast of Brasil - closer to the Carribean and it showed in the music) with Aunt Regina, Uncle Gabriel, Renata (Renata was in a car a is in a wheelchair and cannot talk but she is fucking terrific. She got all gussied up and swayed back and forth to the music and insisted we go out to pizza afterwards. What a gal. On, a side note. Brasil is going to make me more sentimental, more earnest. Is irony, self-satisfied narcisism, hipsterism and apathy, or worse, disdain for the things that bring people joy a luxury of the first world?
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