Hi all
Only up to 36º C today.
I slept out in the courtyard last night, as there is no electricity yet in the maid’s room to run the fan. There was, however, something of a cooling breeze in the courtyard, so … Sleeping in the courtyard, too, actually proved quieter than would have been the case had I stayed in the bedroom (the bedroom is located at the bottom of a masonry box, about 20-30 feet deep) as the dogs nearby bark so loudly, and the rat-a-tat of gunfire from the nearby favelas that announce the arrival of a new shipment of drugs, often serve to make restful sleep somewhat difficult.
There is music, though, that wafts pleasingly through the night air, distinct enough that I can actually discern particular songs. Someone nearby likes the blues, so that’s a bonus.
Still no fridge at the house, so we return to the apartment to cook and eat our meals. I take cold showers at the house, as (so far) we’ve been unable to operate the propane heater for the shower; each time we use the shower, we’ve been told, the pilot light must be re-lit, but at present that’s not working. Only a matter of time, I suppose. I convinced Don to try a cold shower today; even if the water is a tad cold, the bathroom temperature is well over 30º C. Still, he found the water too cold and hollered all the way through his shower. Now the neighbours have something to say about us. For a hot shower, Don returns to his old apartment.
I traveled downtown very early this morning and had breakfast at the Café Colombo, which has been open since 1894. The walls are covered with gigantic 12×15 foot mirrors, surrounded by dark, ornately carved, wood. Lots of marble and some gilt. The little tables are like Jerry’s ice cream tables, but the tops are solid marble, even the ones that are 6 feet long.
The café serves exquisite café con leche, a little teapot each of hot milk and coffee, poured together into the cup. I chose the seafood appetizers over the more conventional breakfast items, noshing on a fried shrimp tart shaped like a hassock footstool or a round sewing basket, and a ravioli-shape item with a palm heart stuffing inside (it tasted like pickled artichoke hearts), as well as a little tart with some unrecognizable filling.
All the food brought to my table was very tasty, a treat.
After breakfast, I went out and, and per usual, I got lost. I was trying to find the street that had all the real ‘cheap’ shops, but had no luck in finding the street I was looking for until I was on my way back to the Internet café.
Still and all, I did manage to find a department store that sold bikinis by the piece. Brazilian women are much more generously endowed than I am, although not so much on the bottom, so I was afraid I’d have to buy two bikinis to get pieces to fit everything. By-the-piece is exactly what I needed.
So I am finally ready to go to the beach.
I also bought a pillow and was struggling through the crowds when I felt someone jostle me, and sure enough, a thief had slashed my pink nylon carry bag — a bag not unlike the canvas bags we carry with us in Nova Scotia for groceries, library books, etc.
I don’t think the thief got much of value. The nylon carry bag was full of newspapers, a water bottle, some letters, tissues, my toothbrush, my hat, a spare blouse; you know, the usual junk a woman carries around. My little change purse was still in the bag, as were my keys, so the most important items, at least, were left intact. My serious money was down the front of my dress, as there is plenty of room there. But it was still a shock to me.
I wanted to go right home and cry.
Even given the untoward events of the day, I still had to buy a fan for my room, as Don will need his back if he is to stay ‘breeze free’ in this heat. So I had to go back out onto the street, purchase a fan, and then carry the box containing the fan, and the rest of my stuff, back through the streets. At least the bikini wasn’t very bulky. I also bought a knapsack, not to carry on the streets — because they are targets for the slashers — but to bring along with me if I go on a little trip to Buzios, or another town in the mountains, to cool off. My other luggage is too big. I only ever wear one dress, anyway; the others require a slip, and it’s too hot for a slip.
So, my innocent days in Rio de Janeiro are over. Luckily with not much harm done, except to the bag, of course. I haven’t seen any thread for sale here, so I don’t know how I will mend the bag. It will all work out, though.
Love,
Corinne.
