Rio after six hours sleep

Even with all that beer and cachaça, I had a hard time getting to sleep…it was well after 1:30am when I finally clicked off the light. My bio clock was still on Pacific time, and will be for another day or so.

But the included breakfast in the hotel ends at 10, so I dragged my ass out of bed about 8.30, somehow showered, head pounding a bit, dressed and headed to the predictable Rio hotel breakfast: crappy bread, shitty cold cuts, bad cheese (it used to be good), lots of fruit, some
even ripe, several juices, and, of course coffee and hot milk. I didn’t see it until I was finished, but they also had a dish of scrambled eggs and some kind of sausage (hot dogs!!!!) which I’ve never seen before in Brazil where eggs for breakfast were not very common in my experience.
On the way out I stopped by the little reading room to look over the papers for music and club listings for the weekend and couldn’t find any (they keep them at the reception desk so they are not liberated from the hotel). Some other folks wandered in looking for the same thing and we struck up a conversation: a married couple from Britain, the woman though is Brazilian, and both seem a tad older than I am (is that possible???). I filled them in on the Epoca de Ouro show tonight, and then the chat headed into other musical corners, and then various other topics. Before I knew it, at least 90 minutes were gobbled up by all the fat we’d chewed. It was pleasant.

Some time went by and I resolved to try the cabrito touted by the Boteco da Praia, so I headed around the corner. No beer, no cachaça, so don’t worry. The waiters from the night before were all there, and the place was packed at 1.45; lunch is late here. I ordered the goat and a fizzy water, thinking I was clear about the crispy roasted goat (ao forno) served with baião de dois, a dish of beans mixed with rice from the Northeast of Brazil…like Piaui (my son is half Piauiense). But what showed up was cabrito no bafo, a chunk of goat braised in a nice brown gravy. I think the waiter simply fucked up. Yeah, I was disappointed, but after swapping the broccoli rice that came with this dish for the dancing rice and beans (baião is a couple’s dance from the northeast), I was ok with the dish. I’ll hit the roasted version later next week.
During lunch, the announcement regarding the 2016 Olympic city was made…when they read the winner’s name: Rio de Hanayro (their pronunciation), the entire Boteco went crazy, and a couple of miles away on the beach of Copacabana, thousands were gathered to celebrate: and that they did to samba groups, rock groups, fireworks and more. This party will likely last all weekend. I was tempted to take the subway over there, but my continuing jet lag said, “NO!!!” So I’m back in the room catching up on this blawg, resting, and so on. My head is still pounding, Advil is useless. And I have to meet up with Jorge Filho in two hours to take the subway to the Epoca de Ouro gig which probably will not start until 9pm. Gonna be another long night because after that, I want to go to a samba joint to hear a great singer, Gallotti, who specializes in reviving the old classic sambas from the 30s through the 60s. He must know thousands of songs.
I’m already planning my lunch for tomorrow. I’m meeting up with some folks I encountered on Chowhound for the traditional Rio Saturday lunch of feijoada….back at Cafe Lamas! I doubt we’ll be there for 7 hours, but it might feel like it with all the beans, pig parts and caipirinhas (cachaça and lime juice). But I’m getting ahead of myself…

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