30/3 – Paraty paradise and Jack in a box.

Except for the horseback riding, we also signed up for the compulsory schooner trip in Paraty. Six hours on the boat with stops at various islands and beaches. Hours of snorkelling and food, fresh fruit and drinks in between the swims - hard to find a more relaxing way to spend a day.

I’ve always known that I possess about zero skills when it comes to holding my breath and even more evident when combined with water (hard to cheat with just fluids around you…not that I would ever cheat though...). But I don’t think I’ve ever realised that it was that bad…man, I’ve got some major missions to deal with here. To my defence, it’s kind of hard to get even close to an acceptable level when the only people you know on the boat are two old swimmers, who both have tried under water rugby and one has got a free diving certificate even. However, my performance last Sunday wouldn’t even have lived up to the baddaren requirements. If I managed to get down deep enough for my hair and bum not to touch the surface, it was a struggle to stay down long enough for the camera to both focus and take a picture. And the exercises to lie flat on the bottom – forget about it! No way I’ll try to empty my lungs from air…what’s my body then supposed to use?

All in all, Paraty made an excellent impression, nice, quiet, picturesque, cachaça stores in every corner and no need to bring the high heels, unless you want to twist your ankles on the cobble stones. This Jack Sparrow guy was a bit scary though. He had an ambitious outfit and make-up for sure, and I have nothing to complain about regarding his posing on the old canons by the waterfront - but a bit scary still. Everywhere we went he seemed to pop out from his box. Morning, midday, evening, in the village, at the pier, on the beach - everywhere and all the time. Does this guy never sleep or was that last golden medallion never returned to the chest? We never managed to get his business idea either really, so whatever he was trying to do, he needs a PR guru to sort that bit out I think. Or perhaps we just need to replace the 65+ German tourists with some families, and he would make a fortune of having his picture taken with their children.
By the way, the Caipirinha lady is still going strong…also in a literal meaning when it comes to her drinks. Spite the slightly decreased number of people crowding the streets of Lapa after the main tourist season seems to be over, she’s still there. And the lime beauties she makes are still the best in town.

28/3 – Which-country-do-you-prefer test or Tuborg vs Brahma.

Please note that this test has been developed based on highly scientific studies of personal experiences and quite reliable sources of hear say. Which questions that might be based on which of the two, is classified as confidential information. The analysis of the test will reflect the definite truth, as close to it as you will ever get.

1. Shop assistants 1 – detail stores.
a) From the second you enter the store the shop assistant will stalk you no further away than 23 cm until you leave the store again. The shop will never run out of shop assistants, irrespective of how many customers are in there.
b) You have to stalk the shop assistant for at least 12 minutes to get his/her attention to ask a question or to be able to pay for what you want to buy, even though there are no other people in the shop.

2. Shop assistants 2 – supermarket.
a) A semi-grumpy girl who is talking to you in something which is impossible to understand.
b) A semi-grumpy girl who won’t talk to you at all.

3. Taxi drivers.
a) A talkative, friendly taxi driver who plays good music but drives like he’s some kind of Highlander character (see PlayStation live episode).
b) A grumpy, old taxi driver whose only words are likely to be: “You’re not allowed to eat apples in the taxi.” and who tunes in the All Classical Music Radio Channel while taking you to where you want to go within the speed limits…with some margins…

4. Robberies.
a) A bunch of glue-smelling kids robs you of your bag, money, camera, jewellery and other things they can make money from and you’ll have to walk home sweating, angry and probably a bit shocked.
b) A bunch of brat-wannabe teenagers robs you of your Canada Goose jacket and you’ll have to walk home freezing, angry and probably a bit shocked.

5. Flirting.
a) Flirting has been rationalized. A millisecond of eye contact is enough for someone of the opposite sex (or the same if you’re close to life saving tower 8) to attack you with his/her tongue.
b) You spend the whole evening flirting and trying to get someone’s attention to find out one of the following: i) The person just had something in his/her eye and leaves without talking to you, ii) The person leaves with his/her partner without talking to you, or iii) The person is interested in people of the other sex than what you happen to belong to and leaves without talking to you.

Only a) answers:
Rio is the place for you. Slightly more organised than our Spanish friends and never lack of people when you need someone to help you.

Only b) answers:
Don’t ever leave Denmark! Throw away your passport and stay away from the borders. If you’ve got a single a) or two in there, you could allow yourself to drive across to Germany to buy some beer or take the ferry to Sweden for some Christmas shopping.

22/3 – Starlet dream come true or out of control in the Brazilian jungle.

Once upon a time, when I was not as old as I am today, I had this idea about the most ultimate romantic set-up. Like most other girls (I hope), I had this idea about galloping along a desert beach, just by the water with my hair blowing in the wind. Preferably, with a sunset in the background and with some nice company on a second horse by my side of course.

Well, I haven’t really managed to tick that off the list yet, but after today’s adventures in Paraty I haven’t been that far off at least. Galloping on a muddy path through the Mata Atlântica with butterflies big as saucers around me is as close as I’ve ever gotten to fulfil that pink girly dream of mine. Trotting along the sand banks of the clear rivers and stopping for a swim by small waterfalls only makes the experience escalate even more.
However, there’s a very fine line here and depending on the person you ask I guess I was probably on different sides of it. According to myself, this horse back ride would have fit in any romantic drama that might have been produced in the big country in the West. A blonde girl on a horse, total sunshine, spectacular views of the mountains and the sea from the top of the hills, rain forest with rivers, birds, waterfalls and orchids everywhere and accompanied by a guide with the biggest brown eyes in history. Plus a brother and his friend as well, but that part didn’t make it through the final cut of my teenage movie. Only thing missing would have been a sunset or sunrise to make the set-up complete. I’m not too sure someone else watching me would have agreed though. They would probably have put it in the same slot as Dumb and Dumber or any random Jim Carrey comedy. The view of me trying to control the big animal could possibly be classified as a thriller comedy as well, if there is such a genre. But I really tried and I was digging deep in my memory, trying to remember what Cissi taught me on the wooden horses in her garden when we were 8 years old. For weeks and weeks, perhaps even years, she spent every Monday afternoon passing on all the knowledge she’d gotten the day before at the riding school. Including the different names of those white thingies the horses have on their foreheads and how to jump the really high tree trunks blocking the path when riding through the forest, galloping of course. I doubt that the latter of the two was something she’d been taught at riding school though. Unfortunately, those lessons on the wooden horses did not include how to tell a Brazilian horse how to go faster, nor stop, and keeping track of your stirrups was a lot easier when they were made out of your old skipping rope. One thing is for sure after today’s great morning though, if I ever get into horse back riding, I’ll stick to walking and galloping, trotting is way to bumpy.

19/3 – Itsy bitsy Caroline.

Itsy bitsy engineer was longing for some snow.
Was sent to Rio, which washed the plans away.
Out came the sun, and beach and wind as well.
Itsy bitsy engineer went kitesurfing instead.

The itsy bitsy blonde girl had sunshine every day.
Friends came to visit, and brought along the clouds.
With mates around you, the weather makes the same.
And the itsy bitsy blonde girl was happy in the rain.

Itsy bitsy Caroline was smiling every day.
Home went the buddies, and washed the smile away.
Then came the brother, and dried up all the rain.
The itsy bitsy Caroline is smiling all again.

15/3 – Rio Driving #3 - All ways are good ways, except for the bad ones.

I’ve realised that we’ve missed out on so much in Europe, not to mention how many things we’ve got the totally wrong concept about in the frosty North. For example driving. Why make it more complicated than it is. The main aim for everyone on the road is normally the same, to get where you want to go as quickly as possible. That’s it, and all you have to do is focus on that, and not make it more confusing with rules to follow or signs to pay attention to. The idea of using maps I’ve already spent some time on, still no major progress on that subject by the way. Not even the excellent Nordisk Korthandel in Copenhagen, had a proper road map of the Rio de Janeiro state, maybe it doesn’t exist? Anyways, if you know where you want to go, just go. If you need to bring something, just bring it. Roof racks and such devices are highly over estimated.
And not only are they over estimated, but also pretty impossible to arrange if you would get the silly idea of wanting a pair. And if you offer to arrange a pair yourself, they’re “impossible” to fit your car, irrespective of what kind of car you might have. So nowadays, Rio has got a blonde walking with her kayak on the shoulder across the shopping street to make it to the lake.
The only transport equipment no one would argue seems to be the surfboard racks for the bikes – those you do need.

13/3 – The Ultimate 5 – The Rio version.

Wake up at 6.45 am without alarm clock.
Go for a morning paddle on the lake.
Yoghurt and fresh fruit for breakfast on the balcony.
Phone calls to near and dear ones back home.
Kite surfing until sunset.
Svinto hair from salt water.
Sore shoulders and back from kayaking.
Sore legs from kite surfing.
Hands full of blisters.
Feet cut up from fish bones.
Nice long shower.
Cup of tea on the balcony.
Spectacular thunderstorm to watch with lightning striking all around.

Next – bed.

Tomorrow – the same perhaps?

Not much missing today to define a Rio summer version of the Ultimate 5 Activities for a perfect winter day in Northern Sweden.

9/3 – One small step for mankind, a giant leap for Caroline.

Somehow, the cooking enthusiasm wasn’t as great as usual last Saturday and the going out for dinner option would have included a combined shower and wading mission comparable to Noah and his fellows’. Instead we decided to try out the delivery pizza quality of Rio. After a 15 min phone call, in something that should sound like Portuguese, and mainly consisting of repeating numbers for some reason, I had completed my biggest language mission in Brazil so far. And it was successful - the pizzas did arrive, on time, at the right flat, with the right toppings and in exchange of the expected amount of money. Sometimes, that’s a difficult enough achievement at home even. Learning new languages is great.
Another thing I like with living and working abroad is all the knowledge you constantly gain about life in that city or country. The learnings are always good for the understanding of the every day life in that particular place, but sometimes you also come across scary things. In this case I don’t have a “taxi ride scary” thing in mind but something which is scary on a different plane. Every day, between 7 pm and 8 pm, all the radio stations broadcast politics. The same show on every station, public or commercial and every day! Just feels wrong…

You also become an expert in making acquaintances when you move around and never stay too long in the same place. Meeting lots and lots of nice and interesting people all the time, who you perhaps will meet up with again, somewhere else, another time. Hopefully, you also become reasonably good at keeping in touch with your oldest and dearest friends, even if they most of the time seem to be located on the other side of the world from you. If I ever start drifting into the dark side of keeping in touch with, or appreciating, my friends, please remind me of last week. Thanks Pontus, Anders and Marcus for being such good friends and for the best week in Rio by far, miss your company already.

8/3 – Fish forgotten about and wake boarding challenges.

Apparently, there have been some major headlines in Europe about some 80 tons of dead fish at Copacabana. That sensational story would easily have passed my head if it wasn’t for my bad habit of reading mainly Swedish news, even though I haven’t lived there many months during the last six years or so. Unfortunately, or fortunately perhaps, it all happened while I was trying to arrange some wake board sessions in Buzios together with Huey, Dewey & Louie, so missed that hole fish thing. And to be a bit of a Besserwisser (as always some would claim), the fish was not blocking Copacabana, but instead it filled up Lagoa - the lake I normally run around on Sunday afternoons fighting prams and families in four wheeled bikes on the walk way. So the legendary, touristy beaches were never really threatened. On Friday afternoon, everything was back to normal again though, the kids from the nearby favela were playing in the water and jumping from the dock and no traces whatsoever to be seen from the fish incident. I guess we all just have to hope that some algae going amok really caused it, and nothing else.

The attempts to arrange some wake boarding in Buzios proved to be an excellent example of the Brazilian organizing skills and the slightly modified Spanish mãnana mentality. Here, no one bothers to claim it’s going to happen tomorrow though, but instead everything will happen today. A bit more ambitious in other words.
According to our solid source of information, the wake boarding guys did not have any phones or ways to be contacted to set something up in advance. But no need to worry at all, they were there every day, on the same beach, every morning at 10 am and running wakeboard sessions. Every day, with the same boat, every morning from 10 am. Sweet. At 9.45 am we got off the VW minibus which we’ve managed to re-route all the way to the beach, totally confident that this day was going to bring some nice wake boarding. Perfect conditions, perfect location and almost not tired from the previous night’s escapades. First reply we got was that one of the boats was broken…but the other one (or two…a bit of confusion there about how many boats would normally run the wake board sessions) should definitely be operating. However, that guy wasn’t going to show up until an hour later or so. Still no worries, an hour at the beach is nothing to complain about so found a shady spot under a chestnut tree and relaxed. Time passed and one broken boat turned into two broken boats and later on into no boats at all…and no boat drivers at all. Last comment we got was that there wasn’t going to be any wake boarding at all that particular day, exactly why was a bit hard to get a grasp of, but didn’t really matter either.

For some reason, I am quite sure we were the only four downtown Buzios paying attention to the Swedish curling ladies winning versus Canada at the bar on the waterfront. Perhaps not the most ideal bar sport but a gold is always a gold and we made sure to cheer as much as 10 times the amount of people would have done.

6/3 – Rio Driving #2 – Grand Theft Auto IV.

Taking a taxi in Rio is always a thrilling experience and this was definitely proved last night after an excellent night in Lapa. The first couple of times experiencing this slightly unreal rides past traffic lights and with lane shifting from a different planet, you want to think that you were just a bit lucky with the driver, or unlucky depending how you see it. But no, that’s just the way it is and as always: one time – no time, twice is a habit.

I have never been a big fan of playing video games, but every now and then I’ve given it a try. Normally, I would quickly get a bit bored and if playing any kind of driving-vehicles-games, I would just push it as much as I can, take all my margins out of the tactics and see for how long I can drive as fast as possible without getting Game Over flashing on the screen. However, compared to the taxi rides over here, my video game driving is nothing, close to a sleeping pill probably. Margins are non-existent and cars, buses, tunnels, traffic lights, people, beaches, palm trees and you name it turn into colourful stripes outside the windows. All lanes are used, the car glides across the stripes, past the other vehicles and you get a surreal feeling of that you’re sitting inside this big PlayStation game. The only thing you can do is to keep your fingers crossed that the Game Over won’t start flashing at the level of the game where you entered.

The Caipirinha mission for Brazil can definitely be ticked off the list as well after last night. And the best one of them all turned out to be one of the cheapest ones ever. After getting off the taxi at Arcos da Lapa we quickly moved towards the hand written sign hanging on a dark blue party tent saying Caipirinha with big uneven capital letters. The smiling lady kindly informed us that they would be five reales each, não problemas at all and six drinks were ordered. Eighteen seconds of cachaça was poured over the lime, sugar and ice. Three seconds each, quite a suitable amount for a starter of the samba night and we should be able to finish it before getting to any of the clubs. The only catch was that the eighteen seconds was not for six drinks, but for two. Wouldn’t argue for a minute that a whole bottle of the national spirits was used for our six absolutely perfect and wonderful plastic cup treats.
This charismatic woman should be sent to Buzios to give the beach bar tenders there a couple of lessons, both in how to actually mix the drink and more importantly, how to sort out their pricing strategy. Or perhaps we just want to keep her on the square in Lapa for next time.

2/3 – Rio Driving #1 – Buzios Buggies.

After some high level challenges with a certain big French airline, all three Musketeers had finally left the snow chaos behind and reached Brazil and Buzios late Friday evening. Without maps or GPSs. A weekend in the Brazilian tourist Mecca should do us all good, even though the guys seem to have packed a bit of low pressure and 100% overcast together with the board shorts and sunnies.

Saturday morning started with a beautiful breakfast with Brazilian tunes as background music and we quickly decided to go with this buggy deal, which had been recommended by the hostel owner. Driving around in a bright coloured buggy in between the beaches and bars in Buzios during the weekend seemed like an excellent idea. The four of us took off, with our brains totally switched off regarding anything but beach, beer, wakeboarding, kitesurfing and some more beach. When the rental car lady then asked us for a driver’s license, we looked at each other highly surprised and replied in unison – Is it ok with VISA? No? Ok. Pilot crew card? No…ok. Photocopy of passport? Neither… Ok, so you need a driver’s license to rent a car? Ah...but they're all left in Rio. Some days this country makes a lot more sense than other days.

And just for your knowledge, it seems like this Rio Driving series could end up with a lot of episodes…and the transport of the weekend was not buggies, but the brilliant mini bus hop-on-hop-off taxi services who were always willing to negotiate the route.

March 2010 photos