Rio II

So where was I? Wing men. It´s good to have party buddies. Brett turned out to be from Berkely, living in Salt Lake City, involved in putting together and promoting musical events. He knew of my band Aphrodesia. Like minded souls we made quick friends and spent a couple weeks knocking about Rio, before he split for South Africa and Turkey. Around this time we also met Dave, a lawyer from SF invovled in prosecuting food engineering giant Monsanto. He´s lived in Rio off and on for 5 years when his case work allows and he is, as the brazilians say, "muito experto". He knows the town and what goes on when, he was great to have show us around. After a few weeks both of these guys were on their way, and I was set up in my apartmett with internet connection and a bike. I spent a bit of time with a swiss jazz guitarist I met, we caught some fantastic live jazz one night at Semente in Lapa. I usually knew people when I went out, but no party buddy, at least not for a few days, when I am walking out of my favorite restaurant and I get a-"aren´t you a drummer?"

In Rio I ran into no less than four friends and acquaintences from California- all completely randomly. Two friends of Rebeccas from back in the day- Nicole and Liana, a brazilian who lived in SC for many years, Debora, and now here is Morgan, who I haven´t seen in probably six years. Morgan and I used to play drums together, and he also knows my friend SoulSalaam who lives in Sao Paolo now. Morgan moved to Rio five years previous, and was recently separated from his brazilian wife of 3.5 years. With common history and interests, fluent portuguese, and single status, we made a good team. He knew the off the beaten track spots, which was great because after three weeks I had visited most of the usual spots.

I said before that Rio proved to be quite safe, and this was true for me, but I will have to share the story of my worst encounter in Rio- the afore mentioned goo gobbing. I was reading in my guide book about dangers and annoyances, when I came across a chapter describing an interesting scheme. Basically, a team of thieves conspires and one will splash something nasty onto the victims clothes and then split. This is usually done "accidentally" or perhaps surreptitiously. Then the other guy offers to help with the clean up, while he or yet another accomplice relieves the poor sucker of his valuables. I remember thinking "I´m glad that doesn´t happen in Brazil, how disgusting". Here people just blatantly shove their hands into your pockets in crowds and run away. So it happened a few days later I was walking through Copa and a man on a street=side barstool asked me for the time. I pulled my phone out and showed him, though strangely he seemed suddenly uninterested. I thought little of it and kept moving. After a block or two I noticed the guy was following me. He made a weak attempt at a smile as I moaned inwardly and kept moving. I didn´t know what he wanted, but I was sure it wasn´t good.

He kept with me and kept trying to get my attention, acting like he just wanted to make friends. Trapped by a red light, I had to answer the usual questions- where are you from, how long are you staying, do you like Rio, etc. He mentioned he shined shoes for a living- did I need a shoe shine? So that's what it was, he wanted to make some money shining my shoes. The guy must be an idiot though, my shoes are suede tennis shoes and they don`t like shoe polish. I said maybe tomorrow, my usual polite brush off. He was insistent however, and soon was pointing urgently at my shoes. I looked down. Groooossssssªªª There was a big smear of greasy looking brown goo on my brand new and quite expensive suede Pumas. In the middle of the smear was finger mark, the stuff was unmistakeably intentionally placed, though how or by who I had no idea. I had hardly stopped moving since I first saw him, and had kept him in my peripheral vision the whole time.

Well I was playing right into his hands, but I certainly didn÷t want to clean the stuff, or walk around town with it on my shoe, plus as oily as it looked it would probably require some special solvent, which undoubtedly this guy would have. The jerk happily got out his kit and put my foot on the stool, pulled out a rag and started smearing the goop around with it. I asked him suspiciously where he though it came from. He smiled and said sometimes stuff drips off the buildings. Yeah right. I kept an eye on him and another eye on my surroundings, wondering what form this rip off was going to take. He finished with the shoe, and though I could still see traces it was better than before, then asked for the other shoe. I told him that one was fine but the first was still dirty. He rubbed some more and then stepped back. I was pissed, but I hadnçt been robbed, and my shoe was cleaner though not perfect, so I decided it was time to go. I mostly wanted to just split but instead I handed him a one real coin ¿50 cents?. He said no it was 3 reais. I angrily told him I thought he was the one who stained my shoe and thatçs all he was getting and walked off. Lame, but it could have been worse, and as my Swiss friend later explained, I got off pretty easy.

He told me it had happened to him twice and he had seen a team get some american tourists as well. He paid 30 reais one time. The next time he saw the whole thing coming and kept the guy with the shine kit in front of him. With one eye glued to him he glanced down at his shoes every couple of seconds to be sure. Somehow the goop miraculously appeared out of nowhere and he had to pay for a cleaning again. With the Americans he saw them get gooped and went to warn them about the scam when the scammer started yelling loudly that he was going to kill them all if they didnçt pay. So I guess I did OK with 1 real. Not my best day but at least nobody shot me+

Anyhow I think I spent about six weeks in Rio all told. When I arrived I was excited to feel like I had returned to civilization, with quality food and lodging and educated people to talk to. Also I was ready for a break from the road, and the space and privacy of my own apartment was a welcome change from hostels and pousadas. Also the months of partying and hard living were taking their toll on my body, and I was hoping to have some healthy living; biking, swimming, walking, and eating better and not drinking so much. I was only partly successful with this as the night time options were so varied and attractive I still went out most nights. Despite this Rio was a nice recharge. Some time early on I realized that I would have to return home soon. Though I did a pretty good job of wrapping things up before I left on my travels, after five months enough loose ends were unraveling at home that I was going to have to come home to take care of things. The date I picked was June 25, since that would give me just a few days to register my car before the deadline. Also, since almost every traveler I met in Rio had just come from Buenos Aires and was raving about it, I realized I would have to check it out on the way home. Thusly, Monday the nineteenth found me at the Rio International Airport, with back pack, surfboard, samba drum, and laptop in hand, saying bye to Brazilians soil and trying to write down some of the memories before they faded.