Tuesday, 9 July 2013


I think now is probably about the time to start writing something about this trip, and Rio.

For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to visit Brazil. Every other year my Uncle and Aunt would come to the UK from Rio and fill my head with stories of a magical place where it was always summer and where the beaches, covered in golden sand, stretched for miles and miles and miles. Of course at the age of five, I wasn't really thinking about what Brazil was like. I was too busy designing in my mind an idyllic place with beautiful plants and animals where my Uncle even had his own swimming pool. And to be honest, I still can't entirely shake the image I created.

Since I arrived in Rio, I've been questioning my Uncle like a child. I'm more excited about the place than I have ever been. And why? Because I'm finally here. I want to understand everything I see, I want to know how to say things, what to do, what not to do, where to go, why things are the way they are and even what to eat. On every menu I pick up, there's ten different kinds of fruit and vegetable i've never heard of before and I know I'm going to have to try all of them, just to work out what's good and what isn't. I want to know why there's fifty electricity wires attached to every pole, whether people actually make much money from selling crisps at traffic lights, whether the bureaucracy is efficient (apparently relatively so), what the education system is like, whether that dog is stray or not, if I can swim in that water, if the food sold in the roadside vans is legit (they've been there longer than my Uncle has), how people feel about a variety of political issues and how much that is in euros... and that's only the start of it. I must be driving my him mad.

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Today we went for a small walk around the land near my Uncle's house, discovered some 'Macumba' (offerings to the God's) and a burnt out car. Oh, and I felt it was absolutely necessary to take some photos of beer. Skol - for the Scandinavians amongst you and the other beer because well, there was just so much of it.

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