Copacabana, Rio de Janeiro: 28 °C, hot and sunny.

OK, it is Sunday, and the flat is full of women. Sunday is usually a sacred day for me, on which I either like to do something for myself or stay quiet.

As the flat is full of people, mostly women, I thought it better to accept a barbecue and birthday invitation from a not-very-close friend who lives on the outskirts of Rio de Janeiro.

I had been invited to this person’s house before and declined, but now, since it is the person’s birthday, I have not attended on previous occasions. There are many people in my flat, all talking simultaneously, so I thought it would be better to go to the barbecue and see what happens.

First, I got up and, instead of exercising, decided to walk and walk. I walked from Botafogo to Gloria. On Sunday, there is a famous street fair that sells, besides the usual fruit and vegetables, clothes, handicrafts, books, etc.

I bought a T-shirt for Rogerio, the person doing the barbecue, and two books for me, one particularly interesting about Kaballah. I have always thought it an interesting subject and religion.

I arrived home at about 11 a.m., took a quick shower, put on a pair of jeans, white flip-flops, and a long-sleeved  UV black shirt, and packed a change of clothes in my rucksack, just in case. Then, I was off.

Rogerio lives in the periphery of São João de Meriti, which is considered one of the most dangerous places in Rio de Janeiro. My idea is to take line 2 of the Metro to the last station, Pavuna, and then take a regular taxi or a motorbike taxi to where he lives.

So, no problem until Pavuna; I left the Metro station and went down to the main street, where there were a plethora of stalls and stands selling everything from beer and snacks to large handmade knives. I found a motor-taxi point and asked about a ride.

Initially, they did not seem very interested in helping until I threatened to go somewhere else for a ride, and then they suddenly jumped into action. After some haggling, we agreed on the price, which I thought was still a little pricey, but what the hell? It was more about getting to the barbecue and resolving the problem than about money, and it was a Sunday.

I got on the motorbike, and we left; the rider did not offer me a helmet, and when I asked him, he said it was unnecessary.

It took us about fifteen minutes to arrive at the other side of São João de Meriti, swerving through the traffic at a good speed, which in itself is an event; if we had crashed or fallen off, we would have been very severely fucked up.

It is funny to think that I am riding a motor taxi in one of the most dangerous places in Brazil and the world at a frenetic pace, with the sun shining, my adrenaline pumping, and, if I survive the day, life is very good!

I arrived at Rogerio’s barbecue, but nothing had been set up yet. He was pleased to see me and that I had gone; he introduced me to his wife and friends, and everything was good. It was already 1 pm, and it was time to light up the barbecue; there was another person there who volunteered to take care of cooking the meat, so I, in turn, volunteered to cut and serve the meat, which is my speciality at barbecues.

I am exceptionally good at cutting and serving meat at barbecues, and over the years, I have done it with pleasure at many different events. More people began to arrive, and Rogerio started to arrange tables and chairs on the street in front of the house. The meat was starting to be ready, and I began cutting and serving barbecue to the guests.

The afternoon flew by quickly between drinking beer and cutting and serving meat. I always joke that when I go to these poor, out-of-the-way places in the suburbs and peripheries of Brazil’s large cities, I am literally an alien, completely different from these people.

I do not doubt that they see me as someone completely different from them, like an alien, but the fact is that I am always very well-received with kindness and hospitality.

During my couple of hours at Rogerio’s barbecue, I observed their way of life, which differed from mine in the south zone of Rio. This could be seen in some ways as criticism, snobbery, or even a mild form of elitism, but it is not. I want to consider them more as observations, with some as precise representations of what Brazil has become today.

So, during my couple of hours at Rogerio’s barbecue, I observed their way of life, which differed from mine in the south zone of Rio. This could be seen in some ways as criticism, snobbery, or even a mild form of elitism, but it is not. I want to consider them more as observations, with some as precise representations of what Brazil has become today.

Let’s go:

• Rogerio’s house is built on a plot of land shared with other family members, who also have their own houses. This is very common in the peripheries of large Brazilian cities. One plot of land has three houses built on it, and the owners are either directly or indirectly related. Rogerio’s house was structurally very well built, but everything inside the home is, more or less, low quality; the finishing, the furnishings, etc., are low quality, and nothing matches well or is of good quality. In Brazil, if it is big or superlative, it is good, no matter what; if it is small, it is bad. People often assume comfort comes from quantity or size, but quality matters more. With quality, things work better, are more reliable, cause fewer problems, and match to provide conformity within the house. I felt nothing matched; everything was from different manufacturers, styles, and qualities, with different colours, etc.

• As I mentioned recently, even though I am a gringo and, in some ways, an alien, coming from a different culture, etc., everybody treated me exceptionally well and was very kind.

• The men, especially the young men, know only how to talk about local football and the rivalry between the local clubs. If I did not know how to talk about football, I would be lost, and there would be nothing to discuss.

• The girls, teenagers, and young women between sixteen and thirty have beautiful faces but are all overweight. Young, beautiful girls with beautiful faces of eighteen, twenty, twenty-five, etc., are all fat; there was not one slim girl at the barbecue.

• During a conversation with one of the guests at the barbecue, I learned that the internet service in the region is currently very poor. Previously, one of the major telecommunication companies had been providing fast and reliable internet, but organised crime took over the area. As a result, a slower, less reliable internet service was installed, and residents are now required to use and pay for it, which is provided by a local organised crime group. It is a classic example of how crime is a cancer in Brazil and how Brazil sabotages itself. How can a country prosper and go ahead in such a situation?

• While serving the guests, a large Volkswagen car pulled up in front of the house. Rogerio went to talk to the occupants who stayed in the car: four men, two in the front and two in the back. All the men were holding automatic rifles, with the nozzles sticking up in the air out of the car’s door windows. It was obvious that the criminals were doing a routine patrol of their area for anything out of the ordinary. That day, I saw no police or police cars in the street; it was only organised crime.

• Lastly, I mentioned food and drink in a previous blog post. When poor people host an event, they cook far more food than they need to accommodate their guests. Besides the barbecue meat, there was an enormous table with a spread of food enough to feed everyone who went to the barbecue.

It would take me about an hour and a half to get back to Botafogo, so at 5 p.m., I said my farewells to everybody at the barbecue.

Again, everybody was incredibly kind. I took a motor taxi to the Pavuna Metro station. Taking a moto-taxi in Rio de Janeiro is surreal, and I got to do it twice in one day and lived to tell the tale. Sublime!!! The metro ride back was quiet and uneventful, and at 7 pm, I was back home.

In bed by 10 pm.

Thank you very much.

Thanks for reading my blog. Check out my other posts and share your thoughts in the comments.

Richard

Photos by Richard George Photography