When you last left me, I was aboard a bus to Cusco where I have resided for the last 3 weeks. I spent the first two weeks working pretty solidly, and by working I mean speaking to Japanese people, in English. Cusco is also very high up but thankfully my few days in La Paz acclimatized me to be able to deal with it. It's still tough to exercise but this was just another reason not to.

I did stumble upon a park, which charges 20p entrance and contains 3 concrete football pitches all being played on by Peruvians. Not quite as good as the Brazilians but a few gems in there. I decided to join in from the sidelines after the end of the game but unfortunately they all went for lunch so I just stayed and did a few keepy uppys with some of the better ones. Unfortunately even doing that tweaked my hip so I have not returned, trying to rest and recover ready for my return to English football.

Instead I spent my time wandering around, eating at the market and reading in the many squares all around Cusco. I rinsed through 3 books in the first two weeks but unfortunately since then I haven't been able to find any decent books to switch with in the hostels. The adventures of Sherlock Holmes has been my favourite book on this leg of my trip.

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The main square is beautiful and the old town is very friendly to tourists who make up about half of the pedestrians wandering around. Throughout the weeks I bumped into many travellers who I had met in other towns, quite surreal really meeting people in a town across the globe, although it is prime location on the Gringo Trail.

The main attraction of course being Machu Picchu. No tour of South America or traveller's Instagram is complete without the picture atop the ancient citadel.

I shopped around and decided for the tour with less walking and more comfortable accommodation. Despite all my pictures and journeys, I'm not the biggest fan of hikes. I went for the 4 day/3 nights jungle tour which involved downhill biking, hot springs and a few walks. I skimped on the rafting and the zipline to save money, which essentially went on tequila and beers. Make good choices kids.

To tell the truth, I have a reputation for being pretty shite on a bike and I believed it, going with a company that had all the gear, pads and all and even paying an extra £8 to my insurance company to ensure I'm covered. Once on the bike though, there was no problems and I remembered that I actually can ride a bike.

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Music in one ear, we began single file heading down the winding road through the valley. The views were incredible and the pedaling was minimal. I began behind a slow rider and for a while stayed single file, and by a while I mean about one minute before I razzed it past her. Two lads also saw the overtake and razzed it past me pinging it miles ahead of me. Thanks to their pace and the girl behind me being slow, I was able to spend the first leg of the trip cycling with all the room in front of me and behind me just enjoying the tunes and the views.

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On the second leg we decided to hold back and ping it past people, as I used to do on the ski trips. Tunes a bit louder, confidence higher and two mates on the same wavelength led to a very enjoyable next part. Pinging it past each other and those around us, handling the corners with a bit more speed and continuous beauty whilst singing aloud. It was better than I could have imagined. One of the lads had a bike malfunction and as I saw him take the corner he didn't turn and ended up in a ditch, although he steezed it out pretty well. As he got out ok, I continued past him but didn't see him again until the end. I later learnt he was a Watford fan so he most definitely deserved it.

This 'biking' downhill through the valley was honestly one of the best things I've ever done. I can't believe I considered missing it.

I did however ditch the rafting in the afternoon and explored the (very) little town in which we stayed before the group returned and we shared a quick beer before bed.

The next day was the 8 hour trek. Playlists downloaded, very rested we all departed along the dirt track. Throughout the day we all mingled and walked in different little groups really getting to know each other better. There were 3 English lads including the Watford fan who somehow I managed to develop a little bromance with, so much so, at the end of the tour some of the girls were asking if there was something between us. Sorry Dad. Maybe I won't be allowed home after all.

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As the day went on, the hiking got higher and higher and we had to have frequent stops to catch our breath. We had ample stops as well to show us the way of life for the quechans living in the valley, showing us the coca leafs, how they pick and roast the coffee beans and how they drink. Pouring out a little booze for Mother Earth and thanking her, saying "Sulpay Pachimama" before downing the shot infused with snake. The guide gave us a long explanation of how tourism has ruined 'Qosqo' which tbf was right, but at the same time, telling the tourists. He did also thank us for the good sides of tourism.

The day didn't feel long and besides from a lil' grumpy patch after a post lunch nap I loved it all. I had plenty playlists downloaded and plenty good company to choose from. The 2 Argentinian lads in our room. The 3 German girls and the Austrian, the Colombian American and the elder Argentine couple who didn't speak English but were great fun.

We grabbed the cable car across and had an hour or so just messing about in the hot springs. the water being 41 degrees after a long walk and ready for a night of drinking were plenty to create a fun atmosphere which carried on into the night.

As the night went on and plenty of tequila was drunk out of the dick of an Inca statue, the dancing began. A bit of tango, a bit of forro was danced and a wee bit of Brazilian funk. Everyone had the ziplining pretty early in the morning, but not me. "Another dickful of tequila please senhora", as the Germans and the English joined me.

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It became just myself and the 2 German girls left and as we tried to make our way home, we had no idea what the hostel looked like or what it was called. Thankfully the town was pretty small but that didn't stop us getting very lost. Having walked past the square 3 times, we stopped to think and upon all thinking it was a different way we explored each route, the only route we didn't was the road we had come from. It appeared to be none of them. Luckily a policeman took us into the station and called our companies to find out where we were and escorted us back home. Dream.

After a nice lie-in for me I joined the group for lunch before our 3 hour walk along the tracks to the town below Machu Picchu ready for our early morning hike. By this point the group had got to know each other well and it was a very enjoyable day. Something about exploring along railroad tracks feels very adventurous and doing so in the sun wandering through an area that looks Jurassic just added to the feeling.

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I was also to be given a lie-in the next morning as unfortunately my tickets had been messed up and I had the 8:00am to Machu Picchu instead of the 6:00am as most of our group had. This was a disappointment but I was just happy to be going. We would have to leave by 11 so my time was cut by a significant amount and also would not be with my group or my guide. But I had a bit more sleep and could casually make my way up.

Thank fuck for that part cause the walk up was tough. Constant steps in jungle terrain, passing those in front all making the same faces to each other. Ones that said fucking hell, I ain't gunna make it. But we all did and upon getting to the top at 7:30am I was perfectly tranquil even treating myself to a beer with a view. Fuck it, it's past 12 in England, I deserve it and I'm only gunna be here once.

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Little did I know, this tranquil mood would not last, my new guide was nowhere to be seen and my old guide who had come out had told me to wait a minute and someone else will guide me. But time waits for no man and my time had already been cut. I went in and was told there would be another guide. There was not. So I had to explore on my own.

It was pretty cool to see but if I'm being honest I didn't get the wow factor I was told by many other travellers. Seeing the pictures plenty of time on the ol' gram, I knew what to expect and with the large swathes of people around it didn't really have the feel of ancient city for me. It was still pretty cool and the views from the city were amazing, just the whole city was not as brilliant as I thought. Maybe the lack of guide didn't help although I've been told the guides weren't that helpful overall by those who had them. The Llamas were pretty boss though.

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A photo was here; it wasn’t in the backup.

I had to move pretty swiftly to try and see things which did not help and was very underwhelmed by the Inca bridge which I detoured to see. I got round and saw most of it, not knowing what it all really was and made the walk back down followed by the 3 hour trek on my own for the 6 hour bus ride back also on my own.

Unfortunately I did not enjoy that day, which is a shame, but the 3 day trek before that was incredible and one of the best things I've ever done. The scenery was constantly beautiful, the group were great people and the activities were fun. And I got the picture.

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They say Machu Picchu is spiritual and maybe the old city made me feel shit cause I took a leak in a bush there however I don't believe in that shit and also it was basically a holiday city for the rich during the Inka rule so I doubt that it holds these sorts of beliefs itself.

Unfortunately for me this is the end of my trip. It's been an amazing few months and even better including the year before in Brazil.

I have a lot to say about but I would like to do that in another post, for myself to feel like this whole blog has a conclusion, for neatness. I feel like the song through the valley describes my trek, not my whole journey, it feels at a loose end. I will allow myself to reflect in the coming weeks but for now I'd like to concentrate on being with the fam and saying goodbye to my Nan.

For those who will continue or will soon begin their own journey's I'd also like to pass on my Nan's advice of which she would always tell me with each new adventure...

"If you can't be good, be safe"

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You last left myself and Harry in Buenos Aires or just leaving Buenos Aires on our way to Bolivia, via a quick pit stop in Santiago, Chile.

At the time of booking, the layover looked a dream, 10 hours and a quick chance to see Santiago and no need for a hostel. However Santiago was smoggy and spenny. We popped in briefly but we did not get to see much, just one neighbourhood and we weren't particularly impressed.

After a few sleepless hours in the airport for myself (Harry had found the best seat in the house) we made our way to La Paz. I hadn't really told Harry about the altitude so that came as a bit of a surprise for him and also for the person in front of us who fainted on arrival at customs. Feeling very out of breath and light headed we sat down and grabbed ourselves some coca tea and sweets to alleviate the feeling that one feels at 3600m above sea level.

After a long day of travelling and also trying to acclimatise we had ourselves a lengthy sleep in preparation for the next day of travelling and the real reason we came to Bolivia. To see the Amazon. We had heard of a small town bordering the Amazon named Rurrenabaque of which there were two ways to get there. We chose to take the 35 minute flight over the 18 hour bus ride on what was named 'the Death Road' deemed as the most dangerous road in the world. We have heard mixed reviews from those who took the bus but the flight was fantastic. The views of the Andes were incredible as we flew over with its white topped mountains, neighbouring vast jungle of which we about to delve into.

Upon landing the contrast in climate was extreme and we all of a sudden found ourselves in blistering heat having to be conscious of mosquitoes. But at least we could breathe normally. We grabbed a tuk tuk into the town, a grid system of dirt roads in which we had no place to stay, no tour booked or no real idea or expectations.

After a short water and wifi stop we decided on a hostel and had a few ideas of the tour. We spent the rest of the afternoon running around the town being indecisive about which tour to take. So many options but in the end we went with our gut and to what we were later told was on the more expensive end of the tours, but is so for a reason and rather good on the eco side of things.

Satisfied, we went for dinner with a Canadian anthropologist- to-be who had been all over Bolivia in a variety of ways and through some adventures having just returned from an Iowaska retreat. He took us to this lil' family run restaurant with possibly the best meal I've had in South America, (sorry quentinha man) and at the cheapest price. A moist rice base mixed with what I think was shredded beef topped off with a fried egg and some plantain. Right next to us in the street was a butchers where the head of cow was on the pavement for all to see, so I reckon the beef was pretty fresh.

After this we head back to the hostel where we met a great group of travellers and almost all of us in the hostel interacted. We enjoyed each others company for one night before we all head into the jungle or the pampas, a more swampy area, in our separate ways.

Me and H chose the Jungle, we had heard you see less animals but we really wanted to enter into the amazon and trek around. The boat ride in was amazing and filled us with excitement for the next 3 days. Upon arrival we also caught our first glimpse of wildlife, the shy Caiman just chilling next to the waters edge.

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Going from Buenos Aires -> Santiago -> La Paz -> Rurrenabaque -> the Amazon really gave us a gradual integration into less developed areas and we were fully ready.

We began by smashing some sugar cane for the local community of which our guides were from and who live nearby in the jungle. They tend to live for half of the year in their community and half of the year in Rurrenabaque for tourism. They are also not deemed indigenous because they speak Spanish. Our guide Simon, pronounced Simone, also spoke English and had a very relaxed style. We pretty swiftly found ourselves calling him Simon but as he could only call us Mark and Harry Potter it seemed fair game.

Upon arrival at the lodge we had ourselves a lovely chicken lunch and a chill in the hammocks before heading out on first trek. Now I say chill. But of course the amount of bugs in the jungle is ridiculous. As we lay in the hammocks, the large ants paraded along them and the constant buzzing was only briefly interrupted by the beautiful and curious noises of the birds. I don't like things that buzz by my head. Particularly the wasps. The ants were actually pretty chill and there were some kinda cute little stingless bees who just eat the salt out of our sweat but still, mozzys and other unidentified flying things were not letting me chill to the extent I wanted to. But if I want to see and hear the birds, of which there were a lot, then I had to take the insects with em', buzzing and all.

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There were other brands of ants, the less amiable 'army ants' who all just march together and eat whatever is in their sight, thankfully not us, and the bullet ant who is absolutely hench and as Simon says "make the human very sick". He tells the tale of a German lad who did not believe him and instead grabbed the ant, feeling the bite and the sting before dealing with 24 hours of pain. Simon smiles as he tells this story.

We embarked on our first trek along with the French couple in our group, all wide eyed and searching the floor and the canopy for signs of life. For the majority we only got insects and mostly ants but boy were they impressive. Leaf carrier ants who would bite off small chunks of leaves from the trees, bring from down the tree and carry them for miles to lay down in their colony where they would wait for them to decompose and flourish into mushrooms to eat. At times when it got too hot they lay down their leaves and head off in search of another task awaiting for the temoerature to cool before returning to finish the job. Incredibly smart, there were thousands of them all walking along road networks which stretched all along our trek. They dominated the jungle.

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Harry and I had originally banned the game 'odds on' in the jungle as the potential for harm was too high stakes, however he did get me to shank our guide with a stick on a scale of 30/1. Simon didn't mind and as the days went by he became more and more playful with us. Many times mugging off other guides by making jaguar sounds or on two occasions trying to mug Harry Potter off with two wooden animals.

Back to the first trek, we also got the chance to see and hear some more exotic birds and just as we returning to the lodge we stumbled across a group of howler monkeys sitting atop the trees in their pack as they do, the dominant male keeping his watchful eye on us as we stared in awe. Harry also made sure he kept his eye on them. If you look closely you'll see the monkeys at the top of tree.

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We returned happy and hungry to eat the communities special dish which is catfish cooked in a certain type of leaf found in the jungle and it was so tasty. Bolivia was fast putting itself at the height of South American cuisine for me.

On full stomachs we headed out for our night walk and I won't lie to you, I was feeling sketch, with cheap torches and a slight fear of bugs I was content with seeing nothing but of course this was not the case, seeing two tarantulas not 10 metres from where we would be sleeping. This is before we even head into the jungle. It had the same fearfulness and exhilaration of watching a scary movie you are very into. Except you are in it. With every stop or sound I found my first reaction always being a verbal 'No' and had turned to Harry on several occasions as Simon was poking nests and prodding around mean looking spiders. In the end the only thing to fear was the fear itself as we saw little after our first 10 minutes and I returned to nice common cockroaches in the lodge.

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The second day we made our way to the campsite which I was beginning to regret, thinking of the bugs. On the way we saw two beautiful birds, one making a ridiculous sound called a 'screaming piha' and then spying two parakeets munching on Acai berries high above us. I was using my camera to get a good view and in that moment just watching them feed, you find yourself completely focused and watching their every move. I have some great pictures and videos but cannot yet get them off my camera, I'll have to show them to y'all in person. Myself and H spoke a lot about the feeling nature photographers must get when they snap their shot, using the end of Attenborough's documentaries as references. Seeing nature live truly is amazing.

It became even more amazing in the afternoon as we headed to the Macaw cliff where we witnessed up to 14 Macaws at a time squawking at each other as they took flight in couples around our heads. They are monogamous birds and will not mate with another if their partner dies, it seems that they do everything together and in perfect harmony. We even saw a fight between two birds with what could have been a fight for a mate as it was pretty much instigated by the one lonesome bird hanging around. They fought, they chased, they squawked in what is a horrible sound for such beautiful birds; bright red with green and blue feathers complementing. We could have stayed there for hours but instead returned for another nice meal and a night camping which was less sketchy than I would have thought. Unfortunately again all my pictures and videos are on the other camera but just trust me on these birds.

Unfortunately our time in the jungle was coming to an end, we were both saddened by this fact and could have spent more time there if it wern't for budget issues but we finished with a bang, trekking through the jungle, across an open desert like plain to the river where we were to build a raft. I say that but Simon pretty much built it whilst we held the logs in place or mucked about on the river bed. We began to paddle down the river, Francois swiftly de-oaring me and dashing my dreams of really being Moana. He took the lead until harry began to paddle at the front of the boat. We began to tilt the boat from side to side as Harry tried with all his might to stay afloat and keep balanced. Annoyingly he did not fall in.

It all finished with a swim in the river, a good temperature with thankfully no piranhas in it or none of those fish that swim up your dick. Although we did have a poisonous millipede on board which makes the human sick for a while. With Francois pulling his reluctant to swim girlfriend in, he began a series of events including a battle for the raft and Harry pulling Simon in. A great way to end what was a truly amazing couple of days. We will never forget them and as we head back it signalled the end of our trip as Harry and I go our seperate ways. We spent a few days making our way back to La Paz and feeling the exact opposite in terms of our gradual re-introduction into more developed areas.

Harry has gone to Brazil again where he will spend the remainder of his time with his girlfriend Hannah and I am currently writing this on a bus towards Cusco where I will stay for a month or so exploring the old Incan ruins including Macchu Picchu.

What a unforgettable weekend.

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Now I had many preconceptions about Argentina; First there was our rivalry that we have always had, mostly in my mind built by football. Many games always bringing up the memory, which I have never owned but can see so vividly, of Maradona punching the ball.

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There is also the playful rivalry that Brazil has heaped on top of it. Not really sure where or why it started but I and the Brazilians enjoyed hating on the Argentinians together. An enemy of my enemy is a friend.

Upon arrival to the country, I was quickly developing a 3rd reason. As we were hoping to get the Uber to our hostel, 3 consecutive drivers told us to cancel and pay cash, of which we had none. Apparently Uber is illegal out here and throughout the week it seemed to be the wild wild west with regards to Uber and their lawless drivers. We had decided with our Monzo card that the best option was to get cash out in the center of the city.

Argentina did not like that.

The Uber drivers would not take us, the taxi options were extortionate, and the bus company would also only take cash. It was set up to mug us off and as we decided to get cash out for the bus we saw the £10 fee to withdraw it. Fuckery. As we laughed and got out money to take the bus we encountered a Dutch traveller who did not see the funny side of all this. He had just come from Australia and could not wait to go home in 5 days.

Eventually we arrived, 6 hours later than originally intended and just decided to spend the first night getting some food and chilling out. Start again tomorrow. Although the food was basically pasta in milk.

We had recently discovered the request money option in our Monzo accounts and after lots of humorous transactions between Harry and I, I decided to open it up to the floor. Many cheeky requests were sent to friends on Monzo for a beer, the idea of a request popping up on their phone prematurely made us giggle but it was even more enjoyable as many people accepted the request, treating us to a few beers around Buenos Aires.

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Shout out to Jossie, Harvey and Josh Chilman for the goods. Ameet declined the £100 request to get Harry out of jail. Some friend.

Everywhere we went seemed to be taking us for a ride and with little Spanish or knowhow to get us by, the gringo tax was hitting us hard. I tried on many occasions to just speak Portugues and despite Harry reminding me its not the same language, it worked a lot of the time. Although conveniently not for the gringo tax.

We met a Brazilian who lives in New York and two school teachers and spent the first real day wandering the backstreets in search of football tickets. The infamous Boca Juniors were playing in the Libertadores, the South American Champions League, against a team from Brazil. After a hefty walk and a heftier lunch bill we sourced the tickets out in a bar overlooking the canal, where we drank in anticipation nearby a group of Brazilian football fans. Buenos Aires Away Days.

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As we wandered towards the stadium we were met by many riot police and a dedicated section behind metal sheets for the fans to enter, we were told many of the fans were police escorted in by bus but we had no colours or even really allegiances. It may have appeared that way however as we were swearing at the Maradona mural whilst surrounded by Argentinian police officers with mean looking batons. Not the wisest thing we've done. Not the stupidest though.

Once inside I began to swell with Brazilian national pride against the Argies. The joke now being that I am becoming a Bolsominion. Ha Ha. Ha. The real fans there had a real respect for Boca though; after falling behind to them 1-0 in the first leg, Boca have never failed to go through in this scenario. One fan told me if Athletico Paranaense won, he would give me his shirt. Which I don't think I would want as then the Boca fans would probably batter me. Another fan offered for Harry to stay with him in Brazil, on two separate occasions. Other fans were saying that they are here for the experience, to see the city and the Boca fans who did not disappoint.

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Similar to the Maracana the drums were non stop accompanied by singing although rather differently here, many of the fans, in the center of the main stand, stand on metal bars that are not fit for standing, holding on to fabric that descends from the rafters. I couldn't believe it but apparently it's true. Towards the end of the half they began to become loud. Intimidatingly so, but we (loosely used) managed to get in 0-0 at the half but the hope of a smash and grab goal to force penalties was still alive.

Pretty early into the second half that hope was vanquished as Boca scored. The Brazilians were silenced and the Boca fans became so loud and were jumping around so much around that the stadium shook. Physically shook. It was mad. Concrete stands. Then as the second goal went in towards the end, us along with many fans around us began coughing as what we now believe was the dust had been shaken off the stands and into our throats.

A mean kick while we're down and an intimidating message to not come to Boca and try to win.

After a few more beers we also conceded the night, the next day moving across town to a neighbourhood recommended to us by a friend David Iwanandfheuinfjrhethczi (not his real name) who used to live here for 6 years. I've been pestering him for tips and boy did he come through with this neighbourhood. Possibly the coolest place I've seen. I loved Botafogo and still do but this place is ridiculously cool. It's filled with funky bars and coffee shops amidst a few trendy shops, all very up my street.

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As I walked around there is a brisk feel to the air reminiscent of ski towns as the shops all house various scarves and ponchos which is something I am definitely sold on. Just trying to brave the cold until Bolivia where I hear they will be considerably cheaper and the weather will, worryingly, be considerably colder.

As I type this Harry is currently warming up to play in his second football match of which I have given him a series of tasks to complete in order to get a meal tonight. Just to be clear, it's to buy him a meal. Not withholding food here, although that would spice it up a bit. 100% pass success rate so far.

This comes off a great result for his beloved Leeds in a copuntry where their manager Bielsa has filled Harry with excitement to be able to discuss Leeds, Newell's old boys and El Loco, his nickname. He has been frequently seen wearing his In Bielsa we trust which the Argentinians have loved.

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We also have found a few pockets of nature in Buenos Aires, visiting the cities ecological parks, experiencing some beautiful views and intriguing animals to go alongside some decent conversation. Harry has told me he has found himself being drawn to the nature side of travelling and preferring areas of peaceful greenery. Which is great as we are headed to the Amazon next week in Bolivia.

So all in all after a shaky start which did nothing but reinforce my thoughts on Argentinians and feelings on Brazilians, I've been won over and Palermo might be one of my favourite places in the world. It's been completely relaxing and enjoyable just doing what we feel. Half of the time filled with red wine which has been as fantastic as advertised and I myself paid a pretty penny for a steak which was well worth it's price tag.

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We've met some great people here from all over and I experienced a dope moment chilling with two of the hostel staff. I spoke English and Portugues. The french girl spoke Spanish and English and the Brazilian spoke in Spanish and Portugues. So as we spoke we switched between the three languages, not translating, just having one of us not understand at each time as the conversation rotated.

The Brazilian guy also told me he wants to learn English so he can visit England because he loves the Specials which led to a long discussion with Harry aswell about Coventry and how he should definitely come visit it. Something I never thought I would recommend.

We have learnt bits of Spanish and I'm intrigued to learn more, whether I will stay and learn more or go back home or back to Brazil is still up for dispute but all of my choices are 10/10 choices and as I sat and wrote in my diary having a coffee in a corner in some cool neighbourhood in Buenos Aires with one of my best friends just around the corner I feel pretty blessed, even without Christ looking down on me.

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Excited to welcome my second guest blogger to the stage, the unpredictable, the lovable Mr Harry Sinclair-Waugh...

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Hello to all my fellow Mazil followers. I'm very excited to be contributing to the blog that I've kept a keen eye on since its inception a year ago. The aim of the first weekend of our trip was for me to experience how what Marco's life out in Brazil was like, and by the end of it I'd come to the conclusion that he set up a pretty enviable life up for himself out here. The whole time I've been here I've just been overwhelmed with pride for how happy he made himself here.

We've laughed a lot at how until he was with me Marco never really got the full gringo experience of Rio. His Italian complexion has managed to disguise him as a native so it's only really been this weekend in my company where he's gotten to understand the concept of the 'gringo tax'. I've also really enjoyed just standing and smiling while he chats away. I don't feel like too much of an ignorant brit abroad for not understanding what's being said, my overwhelming feeling is one of pride. I see how Marco is valued here in Rio just as much as he is down the Malt Shovel in Bubbenhall. Whether its customs he's learnt through spending time getting to know the city and the people, or his natural appetite for mischief, scheming and cutting humour, the main thing this weekend has taught me is that Marco fits in in Rio. 

So in a way it was sad to be with him as he leaves, but also lovely to share his last weekend with him, celebrate his life in Brazil, and get giddy with excitement for the rest of our trip together. I'm also incredibly excited to return to Rio in 2 weeks time where I'll meet Hannah my girlfriend. I've already warned her that my 3 days in Rio will almost certainly mean I'm guiding her round and acting like I've lived here for years.

I arrived on Friday feeling rather strange. This may sound doom and gloom but I have really struggled with the guilt of flying here and these feelings were obviously at their most pronounced after being on a plane for 13 hours. It's something I have to deal with, I've made the decision to fly here and I'm almost certainly gonna have to fly back unless I decide to abandon my life back home which I actually happen to like quite a lot. My guilt achieves nothing for the planet though and the only way I'm making myself feel a bit better is by holding myself to an agreement never to fly again after this trip (I've already looked into how long it takes to get back to South America by boat as I'm certain that one 6 week trip is not going to be enough, answer: a nice leisurely 14 days. 

I maneuvered my way past a gang of mini cab drivers who spotted me for what I am: a suggestible, gullible Brit who's never traveled this far on his own, and found myself en route to Marco's friend Jose's house (where Marco also used to live). Seeing him for the first time was obviously fantastic and after quickly freshening up we were on the way back out to Lapa. I felt pretty brain dead and couldn't really contribute any meaningful conversation but luckily was able to follow as Marco and his friend Mark gave me some very basic Portuguese lessons and spoke about Carioca shenanigans that they've engaged in since living here. My ability to chat was enhanced by a few caipirinha's (the drink of choice on most street corners) and they took me to Lapa steps which is the setting of the video for Beautiful by Snoop Dogg and Pharell

This was when I really saw just how well versed Marco is in the Carioca (I can't get enough of this word as it makes me feel like I'm in the know) way of life. We danced to some Brasilian funk and laughed with increasing volume and persistence. Before we knew it it was 6 in the morning. Realising I'd been up for 28 hours was enough to put the night to an end and we both slept very well once we were back. 

On Saturday we walked to Ipanema beach, seeing Rio by daylight gave me a strong second wave of excitement and by the time we got to the beach I was fizzed up and ready to blow, especially when I got my first glimpse of dois irmaos, two of the magnificent mountains that loom over the city. I had a dip in the sea and wasn't met with the warm calming hug I was expecting but rather some pretty gnarly waves and a temperature not too dissimilar from what I'm used to in Brighton. It's the middle winter here and just from one weekend I can almost guarantee that I won't be coming back in the summer as it's hot enough for me at the moment. We then got a motorbike taxi up to the top of Vidigal, a favela with a fantastic view over the whole city, and enjoyed one cerveja before realising that we just about had enough cash for the journey back down. 

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We arrived back at Jose's and then went for a night out in Botafogo. Marco informs me that due to it being the place to be for arty types and bohemians it's nicknamed Botasoho, after entering one very trendy Berlin-esque bar that had an irritating and seemingly pointless payment scheme I told him it would be much more apt to name it Botapeckham but he wasn't having it. Again my excitement was uncontrollable and I had bags of fun talking to Marco's friends and dancing (I think I'll need quite a few lessons before I can fit in on the dancing front). 

On Sunday morning we woke and got the bus to Parque Lage, a sprawling  park full of beautiful trees that seemed to just have just sprouted out of the middle of the city. I knew of it from speaking to him as the place Marco came to on a Saturday to celebrate or commiserate depending on the results of his Saturday afternoon bets. As we wondered up the hill Marco casually informed me that we might see monkeys. My response to this was far from casual and sure enough when I saw them I turned into an excitable child (my baseline for most of this trip to be fair) and couldn't control myself. There were so many of them and the way they moved between the trees was so graceful. I also saw a guinea pig that looked about 4 feet long but Marco missed it as it scuttled past his feet. He informs me that it was actually a capybara. This whole experience left me losing my mind about the prospect of going to the amazon later on in the trip. 

In the evening we played football with a group of friends that Marco met quite early on in his time here. This was also something that made my childlike excitement bubble over into uncontrollable levels. Part of my fascination with Brazil has always been its relationship with Football and just walking around Rio you can tell how football mad everyone is. After much deliberation I decided to adopt Flamengo as my Brazilian team. Botofogo seemed more apt as it was where Marco lived and where I'll be staying when I come back, but their one game I watched left me far from impressed. (Also Flamengo have far nicer shirts).

Playing football with Marco and his friends underneath one of Rio's many mountains was wonderful but quite early on I fell on my knee while attempting a Ronaldinio-esque step over and realised that if I injured myself badly I could really fuck myself up for the rest of the trip. From then on I stopped playing at full pelt and backed out of a few tackles. This wasn't met with sympathy from Marco's friends however and I found myself on the ground a couple more times. 

On Monday we both said goodbye to Rio, Marco's goodbye was obviously more significant than mine but I was also very emotional about how wonderful the our weekend in the city had been. Our journey to Buenos Aires included a brief one night stop in Sao Paolo of which I will pass back to Marco

It was very brief and almost never happened. With 20 minutes to go until our flight we decided to check where we were actually flying to as the board had been saying Campinas despite the check in lady confirming Sao Paolo. It was about 80km or an hour and a half drive or about 4 hours via public transport. We laughed, we boarded, we arrived and from there discussed whether to stay in Campinas, or continue on as we had to be back in the airport in 18 hours. 

After fairly careful deliberation and more due to the discovery of the free shuttle service we headed to our hostel where Harry would become a legend.

We were roped into playing cachaca pong with one of the hostesses and some Australian douchebag giving it the biggun, and for those of you who have seen Harry can probably guess he's no Steph Curry on the table. His juttery throw was the target of many banterous advances from our opponents and all in good fun Harry was providing the entertainment as we 3 traded shots.

As they hit their last shot we were given a shot at redemption, holding my nerve I sank it and kept us alive. After a few more attempts I hit the first of their 2 cups. This was his moment. One Shot. We'd called it from the start. Harry for the win. He begins his motion. He shakes with his motion. Releases the ball and it glides straight into the cup securing the win and proving all his haters wrong. Storybook stuff. 

I run out into the street screaming, I can't believe it. As I come back I find out our opponent is lifting him into the air, which I wasn't pleased about, he should be crying into his cachaca. After he bought H a celebratory Jager-bomb, we left for the nearby bars to celebrate with some food and drink before a good nights sleep and a flight to Buenos Aires.

Tchau Brazil. ja com saudades. (I miss you already).

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Whilst I was back I was telling most people I would be heading to Salvador because I was keenly interested in both the culture there and the history of the sugar plantations. However as money IS a thang, I opted for a shorter, less expensive bus ride to the small old mining town of Ouro Preto, translated to 'Black Gold' due to its gold's distinctive darker colour.

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For anyone who saw me in the last few weeks of my UK visit, you may have heard me talking about the book 'Open veins of Latin America: The Pillage of a Continent' and it was indeed that. Of the many sites of the plundering from Western Europe and later on the USA, this town caught my eye. Not only was it in Brazil but it had links to British history.

In the late 17th century the Portuguese 'Bandeirantes', in charge of hunting runaway slaves, stumbled upon, well a gold mine I guess... in the town of Ouro Preto and began to extract it; as the town grew, slaves began to be imported to do the extraction. It actually had the most amount of gold mined, but in the shortest amount of time, leading to an incredible gold rush that saw a lot of profit for Portuguese merchants.

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During the time it was being mined it's name was 'Vila Rica' or 'Rich Village' and had a higher population than that in New York or Sao Paolo. The town expanded rapidly; many churches were built and houses became more and more extravagant, regularly being passed by by large processions and a host of festivals.

Meanwhile back in Europe and thanks to some savvy work from the British, we brokered a treaty with Portugal which allowed them privileged access to trade their wines in our market with less taxes than France, who we were at war with at the time. In exchange for this and for military alliance, our textiles and manufactured goods were to be traded free of duty in both Portugal and it's colonies resulting in the shutdown of production across all their countries.

Now our cloths had a bigger market and allowed production to develop in Britain more so than the wine production did for the Portuguese. Our exports began to outweigh their exports and they fell into debt to us as they became dependent on our fine imports. For a while they paid with the gold from ol' Ouro Preto until it began to run dry.

As the gold dwindled so did the profits of the town's merchants and because the Portuguese crown took a hefty tax, these merchants became frustrated. Thus inspiring a failed independence movement from Joaquim Jose da Silva Xavier, lovingly known as Tiradentes or “tooth puller” due to his previous job being a dentist. Him and his posse each faced a brutal end, Tiradentes being drawn and quartered with his head then being remonstrated around Ouro Preto in order to deter future attempts. It is in the square named after him that I would enjoy my coffee, books and beer.

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In a paragraph titled 'How Brazilian Gold helped progress in Britain it claims that the majority of Brazilian gold ended up in our hands helping us develop our industries and also gain control of the Portuguese Trade. This treaty gave us vast amounts of wealth and allowed us to flourish rapidly reportedly moving Europe's financial center from Amsterdam to London. So if this book is to go by, we owe a lot to this lil' town back in the UK. As we became wealthier the only remnants of the gold in Ouro Preto was inside of the many churches previously designed by the towns many artists. Quite a spectacle.

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Nowadays it is a UNESCO World Heritage Site holding its colonial architecture, it's cobbled streets and it's impressive house fronts. If something is to be built here, it must keep with the theme.

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So I was drawn to this place and as I explored each day, loving the cobbled streets but hating the steep hills, I found my own little golden spots in the cafes and the restaurants as well as the best routes which required the least climbing. I would work morning and night leaving me about 6 hours in the day to visit churches, squares and bars. I spent a lot of time doing nothing but reading in the Sun, which during the day counteracted the coldness of being at a higher altitude.

Despite the cold nights, there appeared to be a Winter Festival going on throughout Ouro Preto and the next town along. I couldn't believe my luck as my 2nd and 3rd favourite band were both playing it! The chance to see them both whilst I was there and on two different nights, either side of a weekend I was mostly working, seemed like the perfect opportunity.

But it started off terribly.

As I explored the neighbouring town awaiting my 3rd favourite band 'Melim', increasing amounts of young Brazilians descended, dressed in a similar fashion to that of the 'chav' that many of us dressed as in secondary school. I'm talking, caps, trackies, gold chain 'n' all. Although considering this was the gold capital of the world for a short time I kinda hope it holds some more heritage than our Argos links did.

Despite not being terrible themselves, Melim were largely disappointing. So I left early to get the last bus back. Now bad things happen in threes. The first being that I had missed the last bus home, due to the shitty app Moovit just being plain wrong. I had to pay my lengthy bar bill in cash so I had little left and upon entering the bank and pressing the ATM the alarm began sounding. Loudly. So I had the equivalent of £2 to get back to the next town, or have to pay on card for a hostel, which I was not keen on.

After the policeman had told me to just wait for a lift off of somebody, I did so for over an hour before a man with a minibus took a bunch of us back.

Beautiful. I was tired but back in the town, just down the steps to home.

Walking down the steps I moved to the side to make way for another and stepped in the gutter which had no steps, so as I stepped my foot slipped from underneath me and I fell, caining my elbow.

I trotted back tired and in pain, aching for my bed, when in the street next to my house I saw a pack of 3 dogs all combine and head towards me. Fuck sake, not tonight, leave me be.

I covered my arms with my jumper and tried to just walk past calmly, I leave you and you leave me kinda deal. the Alpha of the pack didn't agree to this deal and began jumping up at me, for what I now presume was the shitty vegetables in my back pack. Now he wasn't super aggressive and he didn't get me but I was having to parry his attempts away trying to keep him down. In a moment I saw my gap and I began to run. I sharply realised this was a bad idea, so I turned and began parrying again, telling him to calm down. Thankfully this time he did and the three dogs then escorted me back home to where I quickly unlocked the door and swiftly entered. Finally home.

As I got undressed, I thought I'd better check that there was no marks and as I saw a small hole on my jumper and a cut/burn on my elbow where I had fallen. I began to think that maybe he had nipped it. I was positive it was just the fall, but late at night, alone in the room, the mind can try to convince you otherwise.

To be sure I spent the next day going to the hospital where I was given the all clear, some reassurance and some cream/antibiotics to fix up my cut.

Over the rest of the weekend I began to relax about it more and more each day, but as it was again quite a solitary weekend working a lot, the niggle of doubt was still there despite professional advice and extremely slim chances.

As Sunday rolled around, I took the evening off and headed downstairs to drink with the students I'm staying with before heading to see my 2nd favourite band 'Lagum' who despite playing in a strange arena both thin and long, put on a great show and created a great atmosphere.

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It seems Melim's show begun what was to be a weekend of work and worry which was then book-ended by Lagum's fantastic show to really bring me back to normal.

The rest of the week has been spent back to reading in coffee shops and exploring ever more as I wait for my bus-ride back to Rio where I will encounter one Harry Sinclair-Waugh and begin a month of frivolous enjoyment.

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For now.

The monkey's out of the bottle

I had been keeping the fact that I am coming home a secret to surprise my very sharp and difficult to surprise brother, whose birthday it is this month. The lengths we all went to not let anything slip was well, far. We paid attention to every little detail to ensure he could not even harbour the thought that I was coming back and we succeeded.

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It was all worth it to see him at that moment and it has already been golden just to spend some quality time with the family. I am home for 5 weeks and although I will be involved in many family activities I hope that I will get a chance to see most everyone at least for a small part.

I remember the night before I left for Rio some 10 months ago, a friend had asked me what I wanted out of this trip? Good question. It always started as a jump forward as I found myself becoming stagnant at home. I had an unclear view of what the future held, even what I wanted it to. I stumbled with an answer along the lines of, 'what I want to do' which was in part true and from the way things have worked I have answered this, at least for the next 5 years or so, so problem solved.

In actuality the fact that I struggled to really have an answer and at times struggled to really express myself or say what I want to say, was what I was looking to free myself from. Nina gets it, as do the Lighthouse Family who did a fantastic version.

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And I sure did. I allowed myself and my thoughts to run free, sometimes to darker areas but I have found myself speaking and thinking freer without my own judgement. I've allowed myself to feel things and emotions without telling myself I shouldn't, such as anger in certain situations. It doesn't mean I've acted on it but by actually by allowing myself to feel it, it's become more naturally easy to control it. If you think and act only on how you think you should how can you understand yourself at all. I've let my head run free and have found myself becoming more disciplined. By knowing what things lead me down a good path, both physically and emotionally, as well as what behaviours and thoughts send me down a bad path, I've been able to install habits and behaviours to control it, my own mental programming.

At times I would let myself wallow in my bed or just let my undisciplined thoughts take their hold but over time I realised that it is in these moments that I needed to begin to think positive or get up and do something. I needed to be kinder to myself. Do things I didn't want to in order so that future Marco doesn't have to. Over time this is getting easier and easier to do and it is becoming more habitual.

As I have not moved in the past 10 months or actually travelled, I realise that this travel blog has become more of a mental health blog, or a platform for me to speak my mind. At the start more exciting things were happening but after a while there's only so much I can talk about basketball, the soap, table beers and coding, which became my life. Thank you for reading it anyway. It has been important for me and I feel 10x clearer, more confident and stronger from it.

Travelling is not for everyone. Even sometimes I believe I am not the travelling type. There are those better suited to the continuous social demand and comfort zone escaping that takes it toll, but boy do I enjoy living in a new place and exploring it. Building friendships over time, finding hidden or not so hidden gems and understanding the place.

I would also not recommend it to everyone, it depends completely on their personality and situation, those who have a social group nearby in which they hold a sense of belonging or an other half who they love by their side. You are not missing out. You have your own journey which brings happiness. Both sides have green and mud patches.

However if you don't have those things, it's a fantastic opportunity in which you will see some awesome sights and experience completely different things and ways of living.

If you do have the urge, I would recommend going on your own at least for a period of time. It gives you the ability to be yourself in a place where there are no previous preconceptions of you. You can choose to do the things you really want to do, take the beaten path, be a trailblazer, see only the old pubs or just nature or just sit in a hammock and do fuck all. You can also choose where to go or where not to go, go to places with people you like, don’t go to places with people you don’t like. It is all in your hands.

I chose to stay and work online which allowed me to explore my craving of coding and realise that that is what I wanted to do. So I stayed in my cozy flat, working away and doing the little things with my few friends and flatmates.

That did isolate me a little bit and with fluent English speaking flatmates I slacked on my Portugues. If  I was doing this again and I almost certainly will elsewhere I would work somewhere with a workforce where there is forced contact with people and gives time to build relationships. I would also live with non-speaking flatmates because it would give that necessity to learning the language and would speed up the process.

That being said for this particular time, what this was, was perfect for me. I needed some time away to think about a lot of things and discover whats real to me. Over my last weekend in Rio, I have been the strongest I’ve ever felt and incredibly happy and it is in part thanks to the city, the culture, the people I've met and the fact I've done things my way.

I am back for a month to see familiar faces and embrace and spend time with those of whom I’ve been missing. Upon return I will visit a new place in Brazil for a few weeks whilst I wait for my friend Harry to come out and escort me around South America. For those of you who know Harry Sinclair Waugh know that there will never be a dull moment. I will continue to move around and will begin to write again, this time about; the places, the culture and the experiences.

But for those of you have read along and encouraged me as I wrote I thank you, particularly Nana, my biggest fan and who I continued to write for. This whole experience has really allowed me to get out of my own head and really allowed myself to be me, who I am and who I want to be, not who I think I should be. For Mike, who asked me what I wanted from the trip, it was exactly that which I wanted to achieve.

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The battle to sit upon the throne in League one was at its finale, the band of men in Luton trying to secure it from those nearest the Ports Mouth and those in the North. The Realm of Men in GoT defending their ground from the army of the dead in a battle for survival at Winterfell. Meanwhile in the Bay Area the native Warriors also defending their ground and their oracle, holding off the powerful James Harden and his men who are trying to avenge the last battle between the two teams. Meanwhile, Meanwhile! the Avengers were trying to amend their previous battle with a similar powerful tyrant who also seems to be unstoppable. Inevitable.

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These 4 wars, each having more than 1 battle, were all starting to settle, but to watch it all unfurl was definitely less settling. I was not even on the edge of my seat but completely out of my seat watching as the tides turned, some points seemingly done for before brave heroics and big moments giving hope. The heroes, the golden boys, the orange, the life, conquering the evil, the dead, the beard and the mean supporters.

Throughout those 4 days I was very highly strung and feeling all the emotions. screaming at the TV in both joy and anger, non stop moving around the house, with a blanket draped over my head feeling intense butterflies. As each closely fought battle drew to a close, I was hit with huge senses of relief and with surges of happiness flooding my nervous system, at certain points overflowing out of my eyes.

Watching the Avengers at the cinema, the whole room was feeling it. It was so emotionally charged. People loudly sobbing everywhere, people shouting and screaming at different points.

Bloody Latins and their emotions.

I cried at 4 different points and actually shouted at one point. I couldn't hold back, I didn't want to. It was the perfect ending to all 22 films.

As Wednesday May 1st came around it provided a much needed break from sports and media and a well deserved drink (I had a dry April). Despite the nerves, I loved it all; the feelings, the little outbursts of emotion and thankfully all results going the right way for me.

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They all battled and fought which has been in (tony) stark contrast to in my head this week, which is a nice change. A lot of the time there's a battle of voices in my head, sometimes taking the form of other peoples. But at the moment it's only mine and it's rarely arguing.

Now I'm not saying that its all external factors but of course they are a nice little push. Everything is going perfectly and I'm really doing a lot more of things I want. I've been reading, walking, buying fruit, learning and everything feels very clear, warm.

As the seasons all around are coming to a close, so am I, ready to move on. I have big plans to tour around a bit more of South America and things seem to be coming together nicely. As soon as the playoffs finish and that's all concluded I'll be looking for my next location as I begin to move again.

With the talk of leaving and moving on I've been asked a few questions by those who I spend my time with. Whether we'll keep in contact or we'll stay good friends and both of those discussions have concluded that we will most likely still stay in touch but will evidently drift apart. That's life and it is almost inevitable but it doesn't mean that we won't still be friends. We all agreed we will always send little texts or reminders to each other when something sparks the memory.

I love it.

I've been to a lot of places for fairly long periods of times and made good friends there. All the time I receive little messages or send little messages, not in a way to just keep in touch or to be nice but because of the spontaneous recalling of a fond memory. Whether it's running around Sweden doing Alan Shearer's, bumper cars in San Jose or getting stuck in a cove and being rescued by the lifeguards. These things are constantly brought up as we look back and laugh.

In between my little learning sessions at home, I have my chromecast showing my facebook albums that briefly take me back to a particular moment in one of my trips. It's in this moment I might drop in the message just to reminisce. Sometimes the message is no more than a wave and a basketball emoji sent (Lloyd). Sometimes more, yet other times I will just sit and smile as I think about that moment or that person. I will do this even as I sit in a retirement home many years from now, as I know my nan still does and if I can be even just this in another person's head then I'm happy with that, even if I never know or we don't speak. Essentially in the end that is all we will become. Memories. Living on in the minds of others.

But with all these little look backs it's important to also look forward and continue moving on. It's great to see people on instagram from old places or old friends in new places, or even new friends in old places but sometimes it can take you out of your timeline looking back or looking elsewhere. Sometimes I delete the app because I find myself doing just this but I'm always redownloading it the next day cause in the end I enjoy seeing other peoples lives. It's just important to stay in mine, not looking back wishing I was here, there or elsewhere. Which I'm doing much better at.

At one point I'll find that place where I want to stay and continue making memories but it's not here. It's too far away from back home but it's still been an amazing experience. When I see pictures or things occurring in Brazil in the future I will always look back here with fond memories as I do to Morzine, the Bay Area, Cornwall and Home.

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For me it really normalises the negative emotions and I find myself laughing hard at all their honest thoughts that they don't say. It really is a masterpiece. In a time like today it's great to have this considering everywhere you look, primarily the internet, is telling you how you should feel. Makes me feel a lot more human.

That's probably part of why were all so anxious, feeling terrible for having these feelings and thoughts, people telling us we're bad to think them or telling us how we should feel in a situation. Or even our own head telling us that how we should feel based on what we think others feel. I've been having many of my own negative thoughts and feelings this week.

In truth, I have isolated myself a bit here. I'm working online in the mornings, learning in the afternoon and content to chill at home in the evenings. Only leaving myself the weekends. But that was of course the point from the beginning. If I'm doing that at home, I may aswell do it in Rio and explore new places on the weekend.

Since Carnaval, I feel ready to move on but this situation is so good for learning, living and the NBA. I will stay for the next 2 months before I move; who knows where next. I'm definitely ready but there's alot of things rolling around in my own head, contradictory things and silly things that end up putting me in a bit of a loop.

I'm feeling a little repetitive => I should go away for the weekend => I don't have the money really => need to work => not doing that much => will go travelling over the summer => planes emissions & money => need a job and feel a little isolated => maybe I could get a job in an office => need to learn more => repeat

It all just rolls around, with a bit of self loathing thrown in there about my abilities, my self-centeredness, the fact my 'weak' brain is cycling in these thoughts and also because I'm feeling bad in a hammock in Rio and I truly shouldn't. But I did.

It's all good now though, was a few days in the week that just sent me west. It happened and it's gunna happen. It's not that there's anything wrong with me, I just didn't feel good for a few days. I've had such a good time recently that maybe it's just equilibrating. I'm sure that's a word.

In truth it may have come from a lack of sleep on the Monday due to basketball and even worse on the Tuesday after the Warriors loss. I'm not even joking the last two times I have felt low have been conveniently after losses.

Now that they are back on track, so am I, even with little sleep after watching them last night. Surely it all has to be a coincidence? Or maybe just an extra lil' boost. Surely I'm not that unstable, am I? It could even be cause I'm not drinking. It's probably a little bit of all of these things that all just came together at a point along with some untimely arguments.

But I was talking about it and did things one step at a time, and the Warriors won big, so life is good again. I've been writing this in a hammock by a pool before I took a electronic scooter, flying past others riding or walking along the beach front of Copacabana, all closed off to cars for the public holiday.

It's been a big swing but I can't really complain. Riding along the beachfront on a sunny day in Copacabana really lifted my spirits, along with the workers in the hostel (that I had previously stayed at and was writing in today) welcomed me in for lunch with them.

Its Good Friday and I'm heading to to kick a football around with some of the lads I play with here. It feels a lot like heading to the park in Summer, but it's on a beach in 28 degrees in mid-autumn. It also gives me a tick off the ol bucket list. Something inspired by David Beckham's documentary through the Amazon.

Play football on a Brazilian beach

Tomorrow I will go hunt for Toucans, with my camera. The merchandise of Rio has it everywhere, they have got to be around here somewhere.

A bit of social interaction, a ride along the beach, a kick around and a walk through nature. I feel good again.

Happy Easter.

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Before the layout did it's job but I've spent the last few weeks creating something to give her a new look. Mainly just for practice and creating something to which I can now upload posts and other content to without having to code them in. Which has good implications if any y'all want a website. Any feedback is welcomed, things you like, things you don't or any suggestions. It's all good. Screenshots from different devices would be handy.

Thank you to Mike for the help, the families pre-live screenshots and to the real MVP Nana for checking its functionality and signing off on it.

I've had to go through all the posts which has been both nostalgic and long. I particularly liked the ones at the beginning, more frequent and lil' snippets, so I'll try get back to that.

It's definitely calmed down a bit here now. Saturday nights have been spent in. My drinking has been a lot less and I am more than caught up on the soap (Shit is going down in Serro Azul, I tell ya that). It's been lovely. The whole town seems to have calmed down including the weather which is a blissful temperature. Still hot enough to go to the beach but not so hot that you have to jump from shade to shade to get there.

Everything since carnaval has seemed to be going beautifully. My Portugues is reaching new levels and overall I just feel more comfortable and confident. Unfortunately for y'all that contentness has been matched with not doing much out of just happiness doing nothing.

I always think back to my psychology lectures, about the rats who had a button to access to a dopamine button and they just continued to press it because it felt good and they did fuck all. They loved it so much they chose it over food and sex and had to be unhooked to save themselves. I'll try not to do that. Upon research I found a pretty sketchyarticle that builds on this in trying to correct a homosexual mans orientation. Wow, I forgot how many sketchy studies have occurred in the name of Psychology.

For me its less pleasure fixes at the moment and more serotonin and a more mellow feeling. I let myself feel the pleasure though on Friday with Beer, Dominos and Netflix but by the end of the evening I ended up feeling pretty shitty. After a very frustrating battle with my stream, only to watch the Warriors get robbed in ridiculous fashion, I went to bed livid. This continued onto the next day at the beach, where Sheffield Utd conceded two late goals to lose me £80 and I continued to drink and buy anything off the sellers which passed me by to alleviate this frustration.

I eventually left earlier than first intended after an agreement with Mark to a dry April and returned home to finish my beers in the fridge to remove any temptation and begin anew the next day.

After a long sleep and nothing to do on Sunday, the two days could not have been more contrasted and I was happy as Larry, listening to chill hip hop whilst I shaved, cleaned and danced (not at the same time) all after sipping on a coffee watching the imitation game, without the subtitles.

I love having nothing planned. It's so freeing. It doesn't necessarily mean I'll do anything but I can, at any moment, depending on how I feel. When I was asked to help my friend move apartments I was delighted to oblige and it became a great afternoon with him treating me to lunch out.

I have nothing really planned for April. I've really settled and will spend the next month not drinking, Working all afternoon and learning more web development while just being happy hanging out in the house. Just living.

All preparing for April 14th which marks the beginning of both the NBA playoffs and the final installment of Game of Thrones.

Life looks to be pretty good right now.

Many nights I find myself in low lighting with a basketball game on the TV, my google playing, munching on Baconzitos. Bliss. Tuesday night, the Warriors were already in playoff mode destroying the Denver Nuggets and I watched the whole thing whilst listening to a playlist based on the song below.

Everything was, and still is, perfect.

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It began on Friday the 1st of March and ran through to March 6th, Ash Wednesday. This being their version of pancake Tuesday. A week long celebration before shutting off for lent.

I think celebration is actually a bit too weak of a word to describe it.

In truth as the dates got closer I had other things preoccupying my mind and as Friday rolled around I wasn't fully in the Carnaval spirit to say the least but I was willing to join in and fake it till I make it. It's funny that I went through all this effort at the visa office just for seeing this week, essentially, and then I just wasn't feeling it. Everybody was telling me I can't miss this, particularly not as I had stayed here for so long and was planning to leave mere weeks before.

Boy, were they right. This was a spectacle to see and it is the best time in my life to see it. As a single adult after living here for 6 months and being able to speak the language it all seemed to come together so perfectly.

It began on the Friday night but in truth, it is not the biggest night as many people still work until 5 and there is a whole week of festivities to enjoy. This year it was not helped by the absolute downthrow from the heavens which would later entrap us in a house high up on the hills of Santa Teresa.

We arrived late to one of the first blocos, which is the name for all the street parties that occur during the Carnaval season. Some move, some appear to be more like shows. Each type has a theme, although a lot seem to share a common one of a walking band containing a lot of drums and brass instruments that play samba as nearly naked humans flaunt around drinking beer and taking whatever else they can to get them in their vibe.

We missed on our first attempt and as we went to the house of a friend to sort out our previous argument we ended up passing the time drinking inside and being silly until the rain passed and until I, along with my roommate, could head home. The evening could be best described using the phrase 'failure to launch'.

So we made sure that on Saturday we would hit a bloco and actually begin, although not after a morning of watching the football and a few table beers from the bar round the corner. As 3 o'clock rolled around and results came in, the girls came over, we donned our skirts and began to get up in the mood.

Still not feeling overly confident at this point, I donned my easiest costume to wear and began with the first of my Disney princesses, Snow White. The costume may have been a bit small and the skirt, barely covering my y-fronts, did not leave much to the imagination but boy did I have legs to die for. Still not feeling confident, a quick flash to social media gave me a barrage of complements and not so complementary statements, but indeed more ones of fear or disgust.

My friend questioned whether it was ok to go out in, not being sure whether it was legit or too revealing. However in a lovely bit of serendipity, the first person we saw after leaving the house was a man in a skirt more see through than mine with just pants and no shirt on. If anything I was a prude.

But away I went with my nunnery self to the bloco where the first guys we encountered immediately stepped to the girls with a Brazilian style confidence I will never understand, actually too much because the girls swiftly moved on as we battled our way through the crowds following the music. It was definitely too busy but a fairly enjoyable experience. The street was abuzz with excitement and debauchery, all in the disguise of men dressed as women or an assortment of characters. My particular favourite is this girl who went as one of the toy story toys crossing a road. 

A photo was here; it wasn’t in the backup.

Maybe not.

But then after battling through, we parted with the float that was pumping music through and decided to make our way to another bloco, but not before that Brazilian confidence was shown again but this time in the form of a woman who stopped me dead in the street and looking me directly in the eyes, exchanged very few words before going in for the kiss. I had heard about these sort of things happening here but didn't really believe them. Thank you legs.

We were on our way out though and headed in search of a second bloco. The metro on the way was insane, people chanting and banging on the sides, everyone getting involved.

The Carnaval spans all over the city, for miles and during the peak there was about 5 different street parties going on at any one time in just one region. It really was incredible and as my friend said, its not just a type of people who attend or a concentration. It's everybody in the city. Young and old, Black and White, Cariocas and Tourists, all dressed up, all half cut or more and having a good time. Although actually whilst we were on the metro I was not and after another argument, we went our different ways and after I couldn't encounter the 90's bloco, which I am assured was amazing, I made my way home, still in time for the soap.

I think I've made it clear in previous posts they don't work particularly hard, per se, or to be fairer to them, they are just not get up and go kinda people but fuck me, during Carnaval they are, the parties begin at 6, either carrying on from the night before or people arising early to party.

Jose who I hadn't seen surface before 9 on any given day, was out in the morning at 8 to head to blocos, feeling lazy cause he missed the 6 o'clock one!

I was not so early and it took a little longer before we finally went to join him. Feeling a little better in myself, probably after being kissed, I donned my Ariel costume, which I think I absolutely pulled off and we made our way to meet Jose and the girls, a couple, both named Clara. After a metro ride of people chanting and dancing again and a few location mishaps we chased them and found them at the front of the bloco, moving at a pace. The name was Boi Tolo and it was by far the best one we went to.

The main cursor for a good bloco is space. If the road is a good size and you can move freely its 20x better than being squished and moved along, with one arm stuck in the air and one in your pockets. The Clara's were respectively donning a sea-esque outfit, which matched well with me, and a football referee, with ball, whistle and cards to go along with it. And a moustache, which she worked into all of her outfits. I loved it and at many times, as the bloco was moving, we found a bit of space and began games of keepy uppys with passers by who joined in and gave jeers when someone would fuck it up.

3 photos from this gallery weren’t in the backup.

We followed this bloco for miles but the beautiful thing was, it was taking us home. Another good cursor is it being close to home. When you come out and you are close to home its a marvellous feeling. With it being spacious, good weather and temperature and good fun it really made it perfect, we could duck in and out of the epicentre of the party when we wanted/needed and saw many people in great costumes as we passed by. As we were nearing home, legs were tiring and the sun was beginning to mix with the beers making us all a little tired. We kept on for a little more to head into the tunnel before reaching Copacabana and in that tunnel it went fucking off.

The acoustics and atmosphere were incredible and the band built it perfectly, slowing it down, getting everybody crouched down in anticipation before the drop. The whole tunnel becoming filled with sweaty, drunk, happy party-goers jumping around chanting to the sounds of samba. As moments go, it was up there and will always be what I remember when I'm old sat in my chair, telling my grandchild about how when I was boy we didn't just virtual reality to places. We all went back and indulged in steak and beer to finish off before getting home at a good time, ready to begin again the next day. They love to party in the day and relax at night and I gotta tell ya its a good idea, we all love a bit of day drinking. But they do constantly have the sun.

This time I decided, upon recommendation, that I should get up to go to a morning bloco and chose the Sgt Pimenta (pepper) bloco to sing along to a few songs where I knew the words, not just sounds. But in truth when I woke up my body was not very happy with me. Thankfully I had committed already and with a friend pushing me for time, I knew I had to get up. We arrived 35 minutes after the previously agreed time but 5 minutes after the secondary agreement and we were pretty proud of ourselves for this.

This time it was more of a show and upon first arrival, this time in my more low key outfit of Minnie Mouse, I was struggling to get up for it, whilst my friends were already on some strong sweet wine thing which is honestly a terrible thing. Would not recommend. But in all of sudden, probably correlating with sips of beer, the energy came back and it flowed through us throughout the whole morning as the band gave samba renditions of Beatles classics, some not working but others improving on the original. Highlights including the whole crowd belting out 'I wanna hold your handddd', the obvious banger - Twist and Shout, the lovely and meaningful Blackbird and an impromptu scrum with some Brazilian rugby lads nearby. I'm so glad I got dragged out and being pretty drunk dancing along to Beatles samba classics at 11 o'clock on Monday morning was quite something.

We returned in a mischievous state but packed in a wedge of carbs before the next bloco. The less said about that the better. Thankfully though it was close to home and when I snuck out it was amazing to just be able to walk 10 minutes to return and relax for the next day of festivities.

These festivities however, took a considerable amount of time to bring ourselves round to. After 4 days of partying it was an effort to pick ourselves up again, in fact even the Brazilians were showing signs of weakness and in an mutual agreement we committed to one later in the afternoon to give us time for a bit of R & R. But I still had my favourite costume to don - Moana - and we technically had two more days. It started slowly as we wandered through the piss-stenched centre in search of blocos and as we reached our first one, it was far too busy and offered no comfort whatsoever. In truth it probably helped us prolong the drinking and made for a longer lasting enjoyment as the second bloco became great fun again.

A photo was here; it wasn’t in the backup.

Staying still for a while before parading through the centre we lost ourselves numerous times, thankfully I had my oar, which I was very proud of and Carla had weights for her strongman outfit, and a moustache. Plus a back up moustache. As the road shrank and enlarged, the feeling of the bloco really ebbed and flowed and after a short following through the center of town we made our way to a bloco much closer to home, oh so sweet home. Here the vibe was more dancey and funky but again it was absolutely going off in the streets. We got chatting to a couple of American girls and after a few expensive table beers to finish the night, we went our seperate ways.

If you're now getting tired of this, good, you're beginning to get an idea of how I was feeling and for most, the Carnaval was over. Ash Wednesday was here and it was time to begin lent and the fasting in old times of food and in modern times, alcohol. But oh no, not for me, In the evening I had some friends visiting from England and they are not particularly known for their relaxing demeanor or for having a few quiet ones. Thankfully they didn't arrive till late on the first night to allow me to recover.

As they arrived, we were immediately on the beers in the hotel room and I was pushing through but as an opportunity arose to meet the girl I kissed on the first day, I left them as they went to meet their other friend who was in Rio. It was a very relaxed atmosphere as I joined her friends in the bar. They were all leaving early the next day after a week of Carnaval, which was a shame but we still had a great time, we spent the whole night talking and laughing and looking into each others eyes like we were the only two people in the bar. I really felt an amazing connection with her for such a short time, only for her to leave the next day. But that's how it goes sometimes.

The next day was a down day for Carnaval and I too took the advice, only having some pool beers in the day where I got a good chance to really catch up and have some chats with the lads from home. It's been nice to see some familiar faces and touches from home and it's also been great to show them around, particularly when I took two of them into the infamous Lapa. In an airbnb near to the famous steps we made our way down to indulge in the party atmosphere, and after Bainbridge was on his second Caipirinha in a matter of minutes, myself an Doug only being two sips into our first one, I'll never forget his face watching the 'mean' man pour a truly obscene amount of cachacha (dirt alcohol) into the drink. Bainbridge had already commented to me half way through about how much was going in, the more he poured, the bigger Bainz's eyes went and the more surprised his tone. Here he is.

As we sat having a table beer I could see Bainbridge was well on the way and after they couldn't believe how mental the road was, it was time to head into a club. The funk club filled only with Brazilians was our first destination and as we began dancing with some girls, myself slut-dropping, one of the girls asking Doug to dance, to which he replied, 'I am dancing' and more than he ever has before. We hit up another bar with just as mean drinks before making our way back at 6 in the morning to finish with a night cap on the balcony, overlooking Sugar Loaf mountain and the streets of Rio.

We're almost there. One more night. If I can get up for it, you can read on.

Another slow starter, thank god as we slept in for a good while before exploring the neighbourhood of Santa Teresa and taking part in a few table beers with both, friends here and at home, which was a lovely affair and a good laugh before returning to go to the Sambadromo at night. Fuck sake. I haven't even began to explain the Carnaval parades. YouTube them, the cars are amazing, the costumes extravagant and the people happy. One guy fucking surfed the air on a bunch of drones.

Anyway, we went to the parade of champions and sat watching each samba school go past. On TV they all looked incredible but in truth, we went cheap with the tickets and were sat too far away to appreciate the detail and atmosphere. A couple of caipis deep we decided to rectify this and Doug hatched a plan to infiltrate the VIP area, so down we went, deciding to go with the Englishman, not fully understanding approach and I'm not a terrible blagger of things but Doug appeared a different class, I think at one point I even believed he had lost his tag and deserved to be in there. After trying a few entrances we retired to find the others, before seeing an opportunity to go in the back way disguising ourselves as parade members. Many costumes had been left in piles outside waiting to be discarded, so we picked up a few larger hula style skirts to try and blag our way into the participants area. The guy on the first entrance was having none of it but we soon found a way around that and made it into the first section, the decompression chamber if you will and just as we swaggering into the final sector we were thwarted by another who came to stop us. Can't fault their security on the parade. Boy this place functions around Carnaval.

3 photos from this gallery weren’t in the backup.

So upon returning to Lapa, we ditched the skirts and finally reaching my limit, I grew tired and left the boys to enjoy themselves in the mean streets of Lapa. Of which I'm sure they did until the early hours of the morning.

At the moment, they are having a bit of a relax in the supposedly blissful Iguazu Falls while I fall back into normal life.

It's been an amazing 10 days or so and I've had a wonderful time and it was definitely worth it to stay and see. It was truly marvellous, but now I'm very ready to relax and get myself back in my routine.

What a week.

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It really started late Sunday night into early Monday morning, the soap opera that is the NBA delivered an entertaining crossover event with all of the best characters involved in the All- star game. Although never a great game, all the little storylines make it an interesting watch, particularly the battle between the splash brothers, Steph and Klay. I love a bromance.

So I went to bed in a good mood and awoke to 3 fantastic lessons at work and a contract extension, with hopefully more stable opportunities.

Then the guy that I buy lunch off every day had my favourite dish, chicken Stroganoff and I was so happy, I bought 2. It's always a good day when he has Stroganoff. I just didn't know how good it would become.

I returned to work on one of my websites which turned a corner last week and led to an increase of output and learning before heading to my Portuguese group class for even more learning.

But the real reason came late in the evening. A German guy, Silvio, who had appeared in one of my classes last week, had invited me to join him at an 'Ensaio' or training for carnaval. There are many of these around and you can go and watch them prepare themselves for blocos or the parade in the famous Sambadrome. Through his Brazilian girlfriend's family he had caught wind of a deal for residents to join the parade for cheap and I was absolutely down to join.

I headed across town via metro to the center, where I met him. Now Silvio is about 12ft 9. For the first time in my life I found myself having to walk quicker just to keep with his ridiculously large strides. He looked more like my bodyguard than anything else. We asked a few people around for the samba school and again everyone was very willing to help and going out of their way to help us.

Following their directions and hearing the music close by, we found the drink carts outside and decided to have a Caipirinha whilst waiting for our contact to read the message that we are here. I think that first Caipi really added to the tone. After moving onto a beer and no reply from our guy, we entered the large hall where a samba band was playing and saw that a few people had started to line up at the front. About 5 abreast and in small blocks, which I am informed are called alas, people began to assemble. Some groups a collection of different people in different attires and other groups all coordinated in both outfits and dance moves. Highlights were a group of gentlemen tipping their hats many a time, a group of older ladies in long skirts swinging around and a group of younger ladies who will invade my dreams for years to come. They were stunning.

As the band began, the song they played was an absolute banger. This song played on repeat relentlessly for 2 hours and it did not get boring. In fact it stayed in my head as I walked back from the metro station. Two moments in particular really gave me a great feeling, similar to a drop in songs, or like a nice note. Two kinda contrasting songs that I can relate the feeling to is in 'Electricity' by Dua Lipa atm, I cannot deny, I love it when she "cannot deNYYY" the feeling she has and 'Over the Rainbow' when Eva Cassidy really nails the "finndddd meeeEEEEeeeEEEEE"

These moments came about twice every 5 minutes as the groups began dancing round the room in a oval shape, and following each other singing at the top of their lungs. I had acquired a song sheet that I shared with a lovely Amazonian bloke who loves carnaval in Rio. I stood there, a Caipi and a few beers deep with the infectious atmosphere really dragging me in. And this was only a training.

I took a quick break outside to replenish beer and energy and film a lil' clip for my nanny when I saw three lovely older ladies having a good old chinwag. They had matching outfits and stood by the samba schools symbol, the lion, so I asked them for a picture. Again they were more than happy to take one and invited me in. It was great, when I told the one without the hat that my friend and I were keen to join she dragged me along to find someone who could help. That guy took our number and said we should come on Friday to register in time to get a costume, attend a training and be ready for carnaval.

You don't need to dance well, you don't need to know the words, just need to amble along with some energy and rhythm and you're good to go. There seemed to be about 4 moves that were 'fairly' synchronised throughout the whole squad, the rest depended on the ala, of which most had a high energy guy at the front leading the group. And after about an hour of walking around the room singing and dancing, people began to have the words and the moves down.

The atmosphere was honestly ridiculous and I was so filled with excitement, we chatted the whole way back and I sang and danced into my house before then sitting down, writing and taking inspiration from the events that had occurred, I listened to one song on repeat that had a good flow that could have a similar effect and keep the energy going. I didn't want to go to bed and didn't for another two hours. I contemplated cracking open the red wine but decided against it, thankfully.

The morning of writing this is the Tuesday and I am still on an absolute buzz, although I must say my vision seems to have zoomed in a bit. I know it sounds mental, and it is, but its a thing I know others have experienced and I used to as a child. Everything seems a lot closer than it is. A lot. Peoples faces, this computer, that empty beer can. Internet diagnosis says it's either too much electrical activity in the brain or that I'm dying. In truth I think I need a clean and a nap to calm myself down but what a feeling. what an atmosphere. What a night.

It's now Friday and this week I also acquired my visa to stay with the potential to be here until August. However unfortunately the deal is too late to join up and it is now too expensive to get the costume, so I will spend the money on another costume less extravagant but more ridiculous and dance in street parties instead. I'm honestly gutted about it but that's the way it goes. Monday was still incredible and gave me a great experience and I can't wait to see the actual parade in action.

I was gunna drop in the song I was singing but as I wont be singing it, I'll drop this in instead.

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The Friday before, 2 days after my parents left, I headed to the airport to rectify this. I had accumulated all the documents I would need, to study here for a possible six months albeit due to monetary reasons, more likely less.

Many people had advised me that Brazilian bureaucracy is a nightmare or that it depends on my confidence, or worse, who I will get, at what time and what mood they are in. Throughout the process however I had had 0 complaints, the first visa was a sinch and on the Thursday I went to get my last form that I'd almost left out for my second visa and the lady in the office went out of her way to help me, to get it printed in time.

So sure that I had everything, I washed and donned my best outfit, matching navy blue and light blue right down to my flip flops, and danced down to the airport with my files all organized in order in sleeves in the folder. I slapped it down with the aura of a man who was already accepted and then proceeded to take it out of the sleeves as they did not want it in that format but more of a pile.

After an hour or more of waiting, the lady came out but from the look on her face I knew something was wrong. One of my forms, the last one, didn't have my Mum's middle name on. Her middle name... Here they do attribute more importance to middle names but still, that's some bullshit. After going back and forth between another government office, they approved me for 30 days in order to get this form changed.

After a bit more back and forth, a lot more back and forth in truth actually I'm still not sorted and will have to go back next week again to try and get it done.

Many people throughout this process have gone out of their way to help me, speaking slowly to make sure that I understood and they have all been very warm and human. All apart from the bouncers at the metaphorical door to the country, that won't let me in.

In the meantime though I have still been enjoying myself, have begun more Portugues classes and attended my first bloco or street party at the weekend.

I had caught wind of a bloco starting Sunday lunchtime, near to my house, so I wandered over to the location, 2 hours after the supposed start time, of which there was no bloco occurring. Only a group of men dressed in an assortments of outfits, one of which I recognized from a previous stay at a hostel. This guy Alonso works in said hostel and is the epitome of party, he always seem to be where people are drinking and I don't think I've ever seen him without a drink in his hand or with his eyes fully open, but boy is he a good time. He features below dressed as Rocky. My Uncle has a theory that the party begins when the first glass is broken and I can confirm this happened at around 2pm, not 10 minutes after I had arrived and I'm sure it was either Alonso or his friend in a wig and bikini.

After another half hour or so we head east and stumbled upon the bloco nestled in a kids play area, of which there were also many adolescents drinking. There were other ages present, but in truth, to begin with at least, it did seem particularly young.

Fitting really that my first carnaval experience was parallel to my first partying experiences in England. Drinking cheap beers and vodka in a park surrounded by 15 year olds.

As the crowd grew and became older, I took myself away from the group to explore around and have a nose at what else was going on, the atmosphere was really bubbling. People in small groups drinking and becoming looser and looser with every passing minute. I took my camera with the original plan to take some pictures and head home to drop everything off before returning. That didn't happen. Always one more beer. In the future I won't be taking my camera. Probably. But I'm glad I did and people were more than happy to pose for me.

9 photos from this gallery weren’t in the backup.

The band was there the whole time, just letting time pass, not rushing (obviously) letting the atmosphere build until it rose to a good level. I was on that level after a good few street beers and found a couple of English girls with whom I chatted until the band begun. The band was filled with many people with a variety of drums and bells on sticks. The bellers shaking their stuff whilst the drummers were absolutely going off as they began to advance up the hill towards the favela. The conductors of the group really setting the rhythm and the energy.

It was really quite something, wandering up behind a samba band, with sun beams lighting up the colourful houses of the favela and lifting the spirits of the people. As well as people lifting up spirits.

Shout out to the beer sellers hauling carts up the steep hill to keep the vibe going. You da real MVP.

I ran into a couple of friends from football, one of which had his parents with them. Sorry I couldn't get you to one Mum, but his parents seemed to be having a great time and really getting into the spirit. I know you would have been the same.

Jose also found me thanks to my location sharing but at the time I was amazed how quickly he got to me, and also how quickly he left, although I think that the booze sped time up a bit, or maybe I was just having such a good time. In truth I can't really remember the music, but I do remember the atmosphere of it all, it just felt lifted, a real noticeable level above normal, it had the feel of a fully flowing house party.

When we got to the end and they entered the venue, I stayed for about 5 minutes before I decided to head home. The pre-drinks is always better than the night out, I'd done a few samba nights before and I was feeling a bit drunk already, so I made my way down, took it all in for just a bit longer before finally stumbling off to my bed.

Day drinking is one of my favourite pastimes and the whole day was a really positive start to the carnaval season for me. I can tell this is gunna be a fun month. Albeit a heavy one. I have decided to start drinking water in between beers to maintain myself but that's sober me talking, the remembering-self talking. Not the experiencing-self. We'll have to see.

Unfortunately that night I then slept from 8pm till about 10:30pm and awoke to enter my birthday with a hangover, which is a new one for me. I was unable to sleep for the rest of the night but things were vastly improved by watching my beloved Warriors distinguish the Miami Heat before watching Moana restore the coração of Tafiti.

The rest of my birthday was a relaxed affair but I really enjoyed it, just doing things that I wanted and a few beers. Thank you all for your messages, I appreciated them all. The rest of the is set to be a big month for me, with carnaval beginning, job hunting and big decisions to make. I have so many ideas swirling in my head but they are all positive. I'm almost brimming with ideas and cannot do them all, each day the next country changes, within 24 hours I had told Harry Argentina, Chile and Peru and in truth I still don't know. The matter of fact is that it is all depending on external factors and I'm ready to go whichever way the river takes me.

One of the teachings of the Tao is to be like water, in simple form 'to go with the flow'. I've always liked this branch of philosophy, the idea of just going with what happens but in truth the contradiction is thinking about this way of life and forcing yourself to implement it is in fact against the way of thinking, rather it needs to be within yourself to just accept the natural path that happens, the state of being.

I've probably tried too hard in truth and as a dear friend said, I get upset when it doesn't flow the way I want. In truth it's all going down a good path anyway so maybe it's due to this or maybe it's a change in me but I've definitely found more acceptance in myself and also the feelings I have. Allowing myself to be annoyed, lazy, sad, frustrated and dislike things has actually led to me feeling much happier and mellower overall rather than trying to stop it and letting it all out at once. It feels that rather than fighting things or swimming upstream that I have built a boat to be able to flow down the river and I am happy to go down whichever path it sends me and see what's just around the riverbend.

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My mum and I have always loved this song from Pocahontas and she likes to play it when taking me on an adventure, she also likes to shout 'NOOO' when it says 'should I marry Kocoum?'. I remember when I was at uni, late at night if I was sad, drunk or just fancied a walk I would head to the sea and just look out for ages, way before Moana made it cool. I don't know why, I didn't have any plans, or any idea I would come this far but at the time it was pretty liberating.

Anyway the next step is unclear but I am moving forward and at the moment I'm not striving for an end goal but just enjoying the path, and am enjoying the idea of not knowing what this next year or what life has in store but I must say it feels pretty perfect right now.

Physically right now as I sit here with my basketball on the TV, Google playing some jammin' music, all being controlled by my phone. The connectivity is insane. I have a different drinks mat for each drink and baconzitos are on sale.

The weather has cooled down this week and the fan is on half speed. It's one of those moments when all senses are satisfied but now it seems to be maintaining longer.

I remember in an inebriated state one night in uni when I returned home and felt particularly good, the lights and music were a good level and it felt like 5 orbs aligned and joined in perfect harmony and it's beginning to feel like that again.

Enjoy....

A photo was here; it wasn’t in the backup.

The power of love and a hug 🤗

For those of you who are following Marco’s blog you may be surprised to see that he has given his mum a guest blog I suspect as a one off !

If you are expecting me to tell you tales of falling asleep in a manger then you may as well stop reading now as you will be disappointed. 😁

However if you want a heartwarming tale of how Tonino and I flew 11 hours on a plane just to give Marco a hug and see how he lives his life then please read on or pass it on to your parents to read and they will understand.

Firstly if we believed all the advice we were given about Rio de Janeiro before we went we would have never have gone, but the power of the hug awaiting us from Marco was too strong to ignore and in truth I wanted to experience the vibe of Rio for myself.

It did not disappoint as after a very big hug from Marco we set off on an adventure in Rio.

A photo was here; it wasn’t in the backup.

What we weren’t prepared for was the hottest January temperatures in 90 years and it was indeed hot, 34c! It felt like walking into an oven but that didn’t stop us as over the week we saw all the tourist attractions including; Christ the Redeemer, Sugar Loaf Mountain, Santa Teresa, Lapa Steps, Maracana (if any of my friends are reading this it is a football stadium😁) Parque Lage, ate in the restaurant that the Girl from Ipanema was written in and of course Copacabana and Ipanema beach 🏖.

3 photos from this gallery weren’t in the backup.

Christ the Redeemer bought a tear to my eye as I had seen this iconic statue in pictures but seeing it for real made me realise I really had made it to Rio. The views were stunning and I wasn’t prepared for the fact that you could see the statue almost everywhere you went in Rio and it was spectacular when it was lit up at night.

A photo was here; it wasn’t in the backup.

My imagination ran wild at Sugar Loaf Mountain as I pretended to be in the James Bond film Moonraker as we went in the cable cars where they filmed the iconic scene with Jaws 👍.

We had the honour to meet Jose, Marco’s landlord, who took us out to see parts of Rio that only locals would know about and made us the most amazing chocolate dessert to celebrate Marco’s birthday before we went home!

Everyone we met in Rio was very friendly and we felt completely safe which is not something that can be said for some of the other cities we have visited.

What was lovely to experience was how well Marco has settled in Rio and he spoke very good Portuguese which was fab as we couldn’t speak any. He was even greeted by a kiss by 2 of the waitresses in a cafe we visited so he clearly is mixing with the natives 😁.

We also tried to act like the locals and I drank coconut 🥥 water and tried the local cocktail Caipirinha 🍸 on several occasions while Tonino sampled the table beers with Marco to help the local economy (that’s our excuse anyway!).

3 photos from this gallery weren’t in the backup.

Singing in the rain️ ☔

Marco and I are not known for our common sense so when we set off for a drink at Ipanema beach and we heard thunder we paid no attention thinking it would pass - how wrong were we. The rain was torrential and we were stuck under an umbrella in the beach for over an hour without a drink! Eventually we made a run for it but that was a bad mistake as it started again and by the time we got back to the hotel we were soaked - Marco tells me it hardly ever rains in Rio!

Sensible people I am told would have heard the thunder and thought let’s go to a bar nearer as we might get wet!

Before I finish my first guest blog, because I can, I am going to give you my Top 5 moments of my visit to Rio

1. Seeing how Marco lives and meeting his friends
2. Paddling in the sea in Copacabana beach
3. Seeing Tonino and Marco’s faces during the Maracana tour
4. Christ the Redeemer - I really am in Rio
5. The delicious meat I ate in Rio it really was delicious but I stopped at trying the chicken hearts!

Well that’s me finished, we are home now and I can honestly say I will never forget my visit to Rio and if you are reading this and thinking about going just go - it really is fabulous darling 😁 💃🏖 just like my son and that hug 🤗

Listen on Spotify

In truth I've been thinking about this blog post quite a lot, the differences in culture, what's the same? What's different? What do I like about it? What do I not like about it?

I always have thought Brazil is cool, ever since the 1998 Nike advert where the Brazil team played in the airport with the song 'Mais Que Nada', one of my earliest memories. Since then all media has pointed to Brazil being a cool country. This relaxed place where people dance in the sun and on the beach. Amidst a few instances of crime.

But now I'm here and see the realities, do I feel the same? Is it as cool as I thought? What do I like? What don't I like?

For format I've gained inspiration from three places converging to form a trifecta of blog writing power

1. 10 things I Like and Don't Like by sports writer Zach Lowe, a regular on the show the Jump.
2. Love and Hate - by Michael Kiwanuka, an unreal song, hate is a very strong word for some of the things I don't like, but to fit with the song, Its gotta be, I get the feels from this song.
3. 7 Things - by Miley Cyrus, not as good a song and I don't get the feels but fuck it. Miley, and a good number to stick to.

So there it is the inspiration to help spell the list inside my head. Enjoy

Love

1. Their snacks.

Guarana, Baconzitos and Ovomaltine

I can't even begin to explain the addictiveness of these three things

Guarana

A photo was here; it wasn’t in the backup.

A fizzy fruity drink that trumps any other before it. In fact the Brazilians are selfish for keeping it to themselves and missing a trick in the global sugar drinks market. Although fanta have their guarana drink so I'm sure they would dominate anyway. Actually I've began to overkill this and going off it. But still, the love's there.

Baconzitos.

A photo was here; it wasn’t in the backup.

Big salty, bacony crisps with a great texture. need I say more. Like frazzles bigger brother who everyone loves more than him and frazzles friends make whatsApp groups called 'baconzito's appreciation group' and always talk about how great he is...

anyway, they come in massive packs and if I open one it's usually gone before half-time. Even when I'm not hungry, they are so moorish and I can't stop (more Miley)

Ovomaltine

A photo was here; it wasn’t in the backup.

I know they have this elsewhere but here they embrace it in the right way. It's everywhere, in their supermarkets, their McFlurries, their Milkshakes. Malt is possibly the best flavour in the world. Strong in the best ales, including brewers breakfast, a lil' something which Harry's dad introduced me to in Cornwall, and here the Hersheys Ovomaltine is a staple for me during films. An absolute winner, I spoiled myself with a Christmas Panettone filled with ovomaltine which only lasted about 2 days.

They know how to snack and the streets are lined with sellers offering sugary snacks to passers by.

2. The weather

Ok, one of the kickers for here, was the weather, the sun does make a difference to how people feel and here its pretty much every day, every day's a beach day if you want it. Makes washing easier, a tan is great. Really brightens my day. Gives everything a glow. I also just love feeling warm.

I'm gunna sneak a 2b in here on a technicality that the weather and climate is who to thank for the nature around here. The city sprawls in and around the green mountains almost as if the mountains and forests around are part of it and embracing it. A hybrid civilization of nature and man-made buildings which when viewed from above is quite a spectacle.

A photo was here; it wasn’t in the backup.

3. The Soap Operas

I never thought I'd find myself so enthralled in a soap opera, let alone a Brazilian one. I hear they are particularly famous for their drama and the current one is actually amazing. What began as a tool to help my Portugues is now a nightly ritual. Every night, if I'm in, I'll cook in time to sit down and see whats going on in Serro Azul.

I'll be brief in my description but it's called O Setimo Guardiao (the Seventh Guardian) about a brotherhood of guardians who, terribly I may add, guard a fountain with healing-abilities within a small town without phones or internet. The characters of the town don't know about it, bar a few sneaky ones, but they all have their own dramas going on. The new (seventh) guardian's mother is on a mission to bottle the water and sell it for money and will stop at nothing to achieve this. There's also a man who was turned into a cat for having sex when he wasn't allowed to, because he was meant to be a guardian. Then as a cat he got ran over and died, but thanks to the fountain he's been brought back to life. All sorts of crazy shit going on. After watching for so long I have become engrossed in the intertwining storylines and feel so much love/hatred for the characters that I'm audibly reacting and putting up countless middle fingers. I watch it with my housemate usually but if I'm out in the barzinhos, it's often on the screen anyway.

Meet Leon (the cat) and Gabriel (the seventh guardian)

4. Style

I love the dress sense of the people, it's so relaxed. The streets are filled with people in flip flops, shorts and vests or casual t-shirts. The flip flops are a sign of a Carioca, as in Sao Paolo I'm told its not as common, but here, feet are liberated. I only ever wear shoes to play football.

The street vendors have a gallery of fake baggy sports shorts, and I see them everywhere, including in my wardrobe. If not sports shorts, its board shorts. Unless you head down to the beach and then it is particularly skimpy tight shorts that leave very little to the imagination. I very nearly treated myself to some snakeskin ones but have since decided otherwise. Luckily for everyone.

It's usually topped off with either a sports shirt, a open light shirt or a t-shirt with some, sometimes questionable, life advice. There are so many basketball shirts around, including a guy who spends his evenings and weekends in the barzinho round the corner and only ever dons jerseys of different teams. My hero. Unfortunately I have a Curry stained one that sits in house. To fit in though, I have now got a Flamengo shirt, the other staple as you walk the streets of Rio. The red and black stripes of their number 1 football team are everywhere.

If not a sports shirt, an open shirt which quite often will sport a funky design in light colours. Branches or birds are commonly found on these, as well as pineapples amongst other quirky things. I'm currently donning a white and beige one with blue and gold animal print. The coconut doesn't fall too far from the tree.

Which brings me to my only gripe with the style. The shirts are great but not easy to source, whereas the assortment of beautiful dresses or women's clothing is immense. I know it's 2019 now and I could wear a dress, but I don't feel or look great in them despite what the camera might say. The patterns are twice as exotic and 3 times as colourful. Maybe its the women underneath pulling them off but I don't think so. I must confess the leopardy shirt I have on is actually a woman's so who knows. Maybe 2020.

5. The language

I always have wanted to learn a language but I always thought it would be Italian and I do still wish to. But learning this language and speaking with people has been an absolute joy. I love the sound of it, I love the system of it and I love the phrases they use. With English having half a Latin base there are a lot of similarities which helps immensely with remembering and a lot of words require just a different ending, although that is a dangerous game to play. But once you get some of the system down, the guessing game becomes easier. I love to watch the TV, to listen to the music and to read it. I still have a long way to go but I am thoroughly enjoying every minute of the learning process and being able to communicate with the people is an great feeling. Even the smallest interactions.

Many times I straight up translate in my head, but sometimes there isn't a word that matches and in these occurrences it really is a feeling that I have that is translated. I can understand the word not through an English equivalent but a feeling inside and I love it when I can describe this feeling with one word.

Each language has a bunch of these that cannot be translated directly but convey a feeling and likewise we will have them in English, all very cultural things. I hear from friends that German is a language where they have a word for everything, its a shame it just sounds so harsh to me. Whereas the Latin languages just sound so beautiful. I very fittingly don't have a word to describe how communicating in their language makes me feel. Maybe I'll find one in Portuguese.

I guess actually the closest work I have is 'dank', a word only really popular in our hometown and friendship group, unless you head down to where Bainbridge or Harry have spent some time. It's definitely overused, but in certain times all you have to say is 'it's so dank' and people within the group will perfectly understand the feeling you mean, although it also has about 20 other meanings which can be a source of confusion to untrained ears.

I have a load of thoughts on this and am really loving the different perspective learning another language gives.

5. Dance

Any night you choose there will be an event on somewhere. Somewhere here people will gather at tables or just standing around listening to the music and dancing, but there is always a band playing music around. The music of Samba has grown on me immensely, in large due to the atmosphere of the events. With other genres such as Forro and Bossa Nova brings new sounds and moves and a new crowd of people nailing it. Sometimes I love to join in, other times I enjoy more to sit at a table and just watch them. And this is isn't even carnaval.

I really should have taken more dance lessons because they were great fun, possibly I will revisit them in the future.

6. The Bar Culture

This one is due to the many factors, some in this list. The drinking outside.

Drinking on the street, from bars or buying drinks from cheap vendors, of which many times you can take inside to events. People sit at tables spilling onto the pavements and many times pedestrians spilling onto the roads as well. Nobody appears to abuse it, I don't see many people getting too drunk or causing trouble and with people coming to collect cans for me the streets are generally tinnie free around the bars.

They don't seem to have a word for a roady though, which is a shame. 'A road beer' for those confused. And 'a beer to take with you while you walk to your next destination' for those still confused.

The service in bars I cannot fault, they bring you beers in a cooler and you share a large beer between company. When you are ready for another, simply place the bottle outside the cooler and a barman will come and replace it, after checking. A perfect system.

It works, largely because of the year round weather. One of the great things I love back home is the beer garden, which is a similar vibe, so drinking outside in constant heat all year round here is a dream.

7. the People

When I first came I guess I already had this pre-judgement ready that they would be very relaxed in many things but showing immense passion and overall much happier. I built a lot of this idea on the Italian or other Latin cultures I've interacted with. Overall though it can be easy to stick to this but as with anywhere there is just a great mix and many different types of people.

On the outside though it appears in general when on the metro or on around areas with a lot of people, they are comfortable, probably because in these situations they are all on the beaches or heading to the beaches, in the bars or usually dancing, having a good time. In the day on the metro it doesn't appear quite as glum as London does but its not vibezin either. I don't work with them so don't see them in the offices but one thing is for sure, outside of work they do have a lot of fun. The beaches, the samba and the bars facilitated by the weather allowing for many activities to continue outside. They hide from the rain when it happens so it's a good job it's not a common occurrence.

Maybe it's this balance of fun and work that they have right, who really knows, they definitely seem a bit more relaxed; walk slower, have no rush and I discussed the workers taking long breaks for football.

This is mainly in Rio though. I hear the Paulistas are workhorses and more serious, as Sao Paolo is more of a business city and has a different climate, many people comparing it more to London or other European cities. Doesn't seem my kind of scene and I've sided with the loose living Cariocas in their rivalries with the Paulistas.

Though it may appear this way, the more I've got to know people, there are those who get nervous, even though you might not expect. There are those who don't know what the word nervous means. There are those who are incredibly relaxed but also get very stressed at certain things and there are those who think to much and find it makes them sad. Those I can discuss deep topics with and those that don't care. They are just the same as everywhere when you get to know them individually.

Just here on the surface they appear to enjoy themselves. More sun = more fun.

Interlude

Now those are the things I love but of course, you cannot have the good without the bad. Yin without the Yang.

So here is a list of things that I don't enjoy as much, find annoying or just don't get it. As I said before hate is a strong word (for some of these) but for the good of the song and contrast, its necessary. So here we go.

Hate

1. Mosquitos

These little fuckers definitely warrant the hate. I like to think of the words of the Dalai Lama or eastern philosophies to not hurt living creatures, be compassionate to all living things. With most creatures (I encounter, at least) I like to live and let live, but these guys... They want a war, they don't want to just let me live. Not only are they known to carry diseases, they make you itch like a bitch. They want my blood and I don't want to itch just so they can live and continue to steal my blood. At times when I'm feeling particularly hot or annoyed or I've just had enough it's a full on battle as I chase them around the house with my strongest pair of flip flops. They are a bit slower than flies so they are at least killable, my room stained with the blood they stole from me before being splattered, without remorse.

At times I sleep with a top on to avoid too much skin showing to them but with the heat at the moment it's a lose lose. Which brings me to my next point.

2. the Heat

The yang to the yin of the weather, whilst the sun may brighten the world, its too close to Rio and at times can become unbearable. Thankfully it hasn't been quite as bad as I feared. My fan is on full blast and I'm just about all right.

At night though there's no relenting, no cool evenings at the moment and I find myself waking up sweating or with visual patches of sweat on the sheets. I also cheaped out on the suncream and bought some that I now think is made for bronzing, (many times I can buy things I don't really understand what I'm buying) and that makes me feel hotter, but hey, gotta wear sunscreen, as Baz Luhrmann says. If I like his life advice in the song, then I should really trust him on the sunscreen part too.

3. the Cashiers

Meu Deus, here is a downside of the relaxed nature of the Cariocas. They are too relaxed when it comes to service. Not so much in restaurants and bars as stated above, but in supermarkets, post offices, shops and banks. There is always a queue, and the shop assistants give no fucks. There is no sense of urgency I guess is the right way to say it and waiting behind one person can feel like waiting behind 5. When I first arrived, a friend warned me it will drive me nuts. I thought it was great to begin with, whats the rush. But after a bit longer, it's more whats the wait! I find myself walking straight out of shops if the queues are too long and have a beef with the speed of the postal office workers. Explains why my parcel was almost a month late. And this week I had a lady just chilling on whatsApp mid sale whilst I waited for her to finish her messaging before she continued to give me my change. I'm not the most patient but here is another level.

My friend Chris is a German students who works with Brazilian and his description of trying to get group work done had me howling. It appears a common notice of gringos here. Or anyone outside of Rio.

4. Their Food. Farofa. 

I've moaned about the food before, excluding the barbecues, it's just rather uninspiring. I don't go to fancy places often but apart from the Stroganoff they do here or the chicken hearts, not much excites me when I look at the menu. But it's alright, I guess. it's just not the same as when you go to Italy or even Vietnam, where there, the dishes are more satisfying and saliva inspiring.

And farofa, what the hell. With every meal comes a fried type of flour that I never eat. As a fellow gringo said...

"the normal gringo reaction to farofa is, 'why have they put sawdust on my food' "

that is essentially what it is. Some dry ass shit.

I'm not in love with tapiocas, a kind of a flour again fried with a filling in the middle either sweet or savoury, almost like a thick sticky tortilla wrap, with less taste.

But at least the snacks are dece.

5. The Roads

Always breaking. Always. Mini sink holes or cracks in the roads, Telephone poles falling in them, no road lines or order. Unless it's a serious mess, like last week in which the road near me just cracked and water was spilling everywhere, this will be left for a while with little change.

Thankfully I don't drive but when I ride the buses, the drivers have no concerns for these bumps and its more of a rollercoaster ride than a leisurely lift. The roads are all one way and no roundabouts leading to long waits at traffic lights of which again late at night, red lights are optional. This isn't too much of a problem for me, merely a comment. Like America though, the one way system and multiple number of red lights makes me nostalgic for roundabouts.

The pavements are also pretty shit and breaking, I've stubbed my toe many a time on the loose bricks and there are many wobbly drains that seem to always be so. There are wires hanging everywhere. I get tempted at times like a cat to play with a dangling wire before I remind myself it may not be the best idea.

6. the Word 'Puxe'

Its means pull but sounds like 'pusha', still getting used to it and have had many push attempts at pull doors. Always in the bank with the glass doors.

7. their President

The things he says about those more vulnerable, the things he believes about people being gay and that his moment of weakness brought him a girl. He's validated many people in their homophobic or racist thoughts and he's a danger to the Amazon. There's many a thing I've said before but he's just not a nice man.

He's came in to thwart the corruption of previous politicians and has made some, I'm told, questionable choices for the people around him. His son who has been elected as a senator is currently in the middle of a corruption scandal, and delaying the investigation, pushing it back as daddy backs him up as an honest guy. We will see. It's still early days.

Conclusion

So there's my thoughts on the place. The things I like, the things I dislike, Overall I think you can see that the positives outweigh the negatives, or many of the negatives are just parts of the positives that come with it. Or just small things.

I really am enjoying this place and still feel that Brazil is as cool as I had always thought. But now there are add on's that have enhanced it. I dig the relaxed nature that surrounds the place until the music begin when the atmosphere lifts. It's a good way of life.

A common theme I've noticed is the feeling I get from all the things I love. They make me feel warm, they make me feel comfortable, they make me feel dank. I have a weird image in my head sometimes of when I feel this, its difficult to explain, it's not even really in my head. It's an warm, orangey brown tinted feeling, almost as if a drop into a peaceful lake of orange that is spreading out along an x axis inside me. It feels consistent, like it will maintain, in contrast to the pleasure feeling of certain things of which I don't really feel colours or at times, feel all of the colours.

When feeling low it turns from this peaceful low lying orangey colour with a blur/glow into a harsh grey almost playdo that is twisted up in the middle of me along the y axis. A lot of my nightmares when I  was younger I cannot explain but everything was grey, lots of rocks were out of place, a lighter grey smoke was around. It just felt horrible.

I really would love to animate it, I know it may sound mental but its a feeling. The feeling of warmness. It's 'dank' and something I've been feeling a lot recently and that I'm mellowing out.

I've been having some great Saturdays sat at Parque Lage reading and having a coffee before moving onto beer, feeling just incredibly warm, in part to the sun, in part to the situation and of course in part to the beer.

It's a feeling that can be found in a song, a good book, a conversation, a kiss, a cuddle, a win, a cheers, a deep 3 point splash, a smile, anywhere.

It's comfort, contentment, mellow, jammin',

Dank.

Listen on Spotify

I hope you are all having a great start to 2019

So far, for me, it has been, very happy and positive, thanks for asking.

It all started on December 31st, I'd been invited, through a mutual friend to a party in a swanky apartment overlooking Copacabana beach, the scene of the greatest new years party in the world or so they claim.

As we got ready, we drank a few beers whilst Jose was switching several shirts to decide which is his favourite white one. Luckily I had no such problem as I only have 1 that is both smart and white. Well it was.

We met the others across the hall and left to head to Copacabana amidst a sea of white, all excited with booze in hand. I should explain that for new years they all wear white and it's such a great idea, what a sight it is. As we got closer and closer the streets became more dense with party-goers and louder with volume before we reached the beach where people had begun to gather. I was very happy that our party was a good half a mile to the right, so we could wander along the seafront, taking it all in.

I've not really enjoyed many new years I will confess but I was becoming excited for this one. As we arrived, the party was in full swing and many people were already gathering on the balcony. The guy who had previously lived in my apartment before I, was a Frenchman who is now living in an absolute bachelor pad. Spacious, modern and minimalist with white walls and black furniture/tops (I think). Filled with beautiful people from all over the world dressed in smart white shirts and light dresses.

It was very cool.

I got speaking to a few even cooler people; a Canadian acrobat, who travels the world but still misses that time at home and the Latin America marketing manager for Apple who lives in a similar apartment in Mexico City. The best person I met though was one of the barmen who was hired for the event because he had such a fun loving attitude, it was incredibly infectious, he's dressed below in black, because as I later found out, he's evil. As midnight was drawing nearer he brought us some tequila shots that would be the beginning of the end.

A photo was here; it wasn’t in the backup.

But not at the time. With a few minutes to go to 2019, I found the group I arrived with and celebrated the new year with them on our own lil' side balcony. Onlookers from balconies, boats and the beach all cheered and hugged as the fireworks began to rise and light up the sky. I'm also not such a big firework guy but these were amazing, fireworks within fireworks, contrasting colours, red hearts and yellow stars amidst circles of explosions, all occurring for a good 30 minutes or more. Sorry Andrew, but you've been knocked off the top spot.

Shortly after they had ended, so did my bottle of wine, so I headed to my guy, who I at least thought was my guy, to get me a cuba libre, but instead got me something much meaner (stronger). The fact that one of my last clear memories was how strong the drink was is description enough. I'd been poisoned. After that it gets a bit blurry but I have a few memories of just trying to contain myself and calm myself down. I'm told I had a wee 10 minute nap and I remember being sat in a very plush chair chilling myself out. I'm also told we left at 3 but I can't see how we spent that much time there.

Oh well, it's New Years Eve.

We finished the new year by heading to the beach to enjoy the rest of the night. I spent the first while on a mission to eat chicken hearts, no I'm not kidding, they are dank (damn good), although that mission failed. I settled for a hot dog and began to feel a bit better. Physically. For some reason and for the love of me I can't figure out, I was feeling pretty angry and as I went for a dip in the sea, I thrashed around like a shark who'd lost his prey, maybe I was really peeved about the chicken hearts. Or maybe cause I'd got too drunk at the fancy party. I don't know, but I actually don't care, which is nice. As I walked back, I buttoned up my shirt and to let a bit more anger out, I pulled it apart and destroyed all the buttons. I've done this a few times, once after I got off the bus 1 stop too far. If I don't succeed then I button up the survivors and do it again.

This will be why you always see me in open shirts. Just kidding, I just really like the look, luckily.

I awoke the next morning, fairly fresh and without any worries, despite the drunkenness and anger of the night before and this has carried on throughout the year. I've been just being and enjoying myself. I've spent a lot of it reading my new book in coffee shops. I've began reading 'as melhores 100 historias da mitologia' or the 100 best stories of mythology and its been amazing.

I love the short chapters, I love the intertwining stories and I love the humanistic feelings of the gods. Tales which involve the darker emotions as well as the lighter ones. I had brief lapses of focus of which my mind would go to imaginative stories or plans of exploring Rome and Greece in the future.

Amidst that, and more administrative jobs I decided to use some Christmas money to enjoy a round of golf whilst I am here, so I went to the Olympic golf course to satisfy my need.

I had been exchanging messages claiming I had forgotten my handicap certificate and asking about shoes but they are so low on business it seems they said it was no problem and my basketball shoes would suffice, which is a shame actually because my flip flops would match my shorts and polo shirt perfectly.

It wasn't ridiculously expensive considering, even to rent clubs, until I got there and discovered they did not have lake balls I could buy and I had to buy balls at 3 for £10. Knowing my average of lost balls per hole, this could be a massive problem. I departed with a brave 6 for 18 and headed out into the 30 degrees heat with 3 bottles of water alone. When I say alone, I mean alone, there was 1 other group I saw all day and they were on the 9th as I was on the 1st.

To say I was rusty was an understatement, having no tee certainly didn't help as I began with a pea roller followed by another, straight into the small bushes. Luckily the  roughage was fairly dry and scarce. However I did not find that ball. I did find the ball I pwned into the bush on the next shot though and even found another. Finishing with a strong short game and a 2-putt salvaged a score of 10. Still a successful hole though as I left with the same amount of balls I began with.

It took a few more holes and a makeshift tee to shake off the rust, including one failed and one successful trip over a lake, before I got myself a par. I ended up with a few pars, 2 on par 3s, which I must say were very kind, and one par 4. My irons game was strong, a part that usually fails me and in reverse, my drive was wayward, a part which normally saves me.

The beaches here are incredible and the sand so soft, so I thought I'd spend a lot of time in the bunkers too. The next hole including 4 shots out of 2 bunkers , including a bunker to bunker and a cloud of sand evolving into a cloud of rage. Although as they were not my clubs, there was no hitting the floor, no linging and no putter volleys. Instead just clouding the head and forgetting the sand wedge as I begrudgingly raked the bunker and trudged off to the next tee.

I finished the front 9 strong and came out with a 54 but was running low on balls. with a quick break to replenish fluids and balls, now costing the same as the round, I was back out for the back 9. My first shot flew into the lake, and looked like a sign of things to come, but actually finished that hole well in what we call a doobs par (par without the wayward shot/drop). As I cleaned up a capybara popped out of the bushes to say hello and trundled off covered in mud to wash himself in the lake. He clearly did not see the sign saying there were alligators living there. Unfortunately I did not see any of those but the capybara was very cool, huauge.

Neither did I see any snakes that were supposedly around, the next hole was spent largely in the rough, and at £3.33 a ball there was no way I was letting them fuckers scare me, the alligators can keep the balls, but not them. It's a shame I didn't have my camera as I did also see some beautiful birds and the cutest owls who had nested in a bunker. They came and poked their heads out watching disapprovingly as I shot the ball out of their lawn, but they had the last laugh as I missed an easy putt.

I began to tire and make silly mistakes and get a bit in my own head but in what was a beautiful moment as I stepped up to the next tee, driver in hand, I audibly yet playfully told myself to shut-up mid swing as I powered through and hit the sweetest drive I may have ever hit. I fucking pinged it, probably a good 300 yards and in that my head went silent and I was incredibly peaceful. Even better the groundskeeper turned up with my sand wedge, and when I asked if he'd seen my drive he said he had. He must get the impression I am a pro. But at that moment I felt what John Mayer describes below and it carried through all the way into the 19th where I enjoyed a beer before heading home.

Watch the video on YouTube

So this year overall has been incredibly peaceful and clear and I hope this will continue the whole year. I've found wisdom in the strangest places and am beginning to be. I've made most of the steps in the visa process and will think about my next step in February, enjoying the next month as pre-carnaval starts today, with a street party around the lagoon and my parents will be visiting in 3 weeks. Skies are becoming blue, the sun is heating up and I'm starting to come back, perfectly in time for the start of proceedings as the atmosphere warms up to the crescendo that will be carnaval.

I hope you are all having great years as well and this year brings everything you want, and if not, something better.

Listen on Spotify

Feliz Natal

Merry Christmas.

I feel like the Grinch atop of Whoville looking down (via instagram) on those below, enjoying all their festivities and their xmas boozing, driving home for Christmas and fireplace snoozing.

I say this because here, there is no Christmas excitement, a few things in the window and a few polar bears on TV. But there's no atmosphere around it, and with the heat pushing the 40's it doesn't really feel like Christmas at all. I think I've listened to about 4 Christmas songs, not including the annoying jingle bells jazz on repeat in the supermarket.

Here, I'm hearing from many people that the families tend to get together on Christmas eve and although they will spend Christmas day together, its more low-key. it's more about the day before, families celebrating the turn of Christmas at midnight and some exchanging gifts then instead.

I have no idea how Santa gets them here, or why he comes here first from the north pole, maybe he pops over after Australia but still, shouldn't he fly with the time zone? There's a few other holes in their Santa story that probably need answering first, such as why he wears a coat down here? Stresses me out. It's far too hot, I have the fan on full blast and I am still sweating my baubles off. Before I crossed the road to get to the sun, I now cross to hide in the shade. It's only the first weekend of summer and I'm genuinely a little scared of what's to come.

Though with the weather heating up there is a building excitement towards summer which means Carnaval, but before that everyone is talking about and looking forward to New Years Eve, where they will all wear white and in Rio, they will gather on Copacabana beach for what I hear is the best fireworks I'll ever see. Big praise, I've seen Andrew explode a plant pot at face level, whilst we all poked our heads over a wall.

So there's plenty to look forward to and while it may not feel very Christmassy and I'm not counting on there being snow, that's okay, I can skip it for one year, I'm already promising myself that I'll be home for next year. For this year I caught wind of a hostel who feeds the homeless so I thought that might be a good thing to do.

I was right, it was great fun and very interesting, they all seemed to appreciate it. I must be honest, I wasn't the most helpful in terms of actually feeding them. There seemed to be many gringo hands, which is a great thing, so I began chatting with the homeless people. One man, Romeo, began telling me his story, in fluent English. Why he chose his sleeping spot and his views on the world. He has a sister in America, who he is beefing with, and another who died of a drug overdose even after he went Liam Neeson to get her back from some bad men. He tells me how he lost everything and people were trying to contain him, how he's into sex, drugs and rock and roll and doesn't feel free in the enslavement of society, although he did agree he doesn't feel free in his current situation either.

It developed into a fantastic conversation on the education system and was really interesting to speak with him and a few others, of whom I could only speak a bit more basically with. There were two Americans giving them hair-cuts and a group of the homeless who played instruments while others sang along, all in Santa hats. The food looked good and I had not had lunch but I couldn't really, could I? I didn't. I already felt a bit guilty sharing a few beers with a local barman, particularly as one or two asked for some and I wasn't really sure whether I could. But they appreciated the food, many coming up to us to thank us and tell us how tasty it was. Although I wasn't sure if they were describing the food or the 'waitresses'. Some definitely were.

There were a few sketchy moments, a few began to argue with each other, shouting across tables and had to be calmed down. Also when a transperson came into the bar and a few began heckling her and the gay guy she was with. She obviously did not appreciate this and it became more heated when the barman I had drank with began to give the gay guy shit aswell. Their friend tarred me with the same brush as him and looked at me with a face like thunder even after I told him I agreed with him. But thankfully the barmen left as did a few of the louder homeless people and it calmed down a bit.

It was a great thing overall for most, they appreciated the company and it felt good, but to balance things out, I hope to be on the golf course one day this week, taking inspiration from my Uncle Gino who chose to do this last year, although I can't quite understand how he played in the cold. I'm definitely a fair(or more)weather golfer. So from the homeless to the golf course, I'm swinging both ways on this one... well when in Rio.

Its been nice to have a few weeks to myself and relax, catch up on things, particularly as I have had no phone to distract me or grab my attention.

I've spent days in coffee shops and bars reading or at times just sitting, and am finding myself being able to read for longer or let my mind wander off on ideas or solutions without it cycling back round to me and my mind. Mostly.

I definitely felt better for not having a phone for a while and honestly would like to go without one, but for all the downside it is a necessity and I have a new one, well old one, so my new number is +55 (21) 97246-4759. Holla at ya boy.

As I said, it's been nice, for all the good that comes with this lifestyle, it can feel very busy and unsettled at times. From the first month travelling, to settling into a new job and two apartments, sorting a second visa, learning a new language/culture and meeting lots of new people, it can be quite a lot of things to do.

I'm definitely feeling more settled but time flies by very quickly and before you know it, they want to kick you out of the country again and the visa procedure has many niggly bits to it, so it's important to start early. So from now and throughout most of January, time will be spent sorting the next visa, becoming a student and studying Portuguese so I can stay here just a little bit longer, for at least Carnaval.

First looking at all the procedure, was quite overwhelming and the amount of effort required seemed like a lot and would seem to take up the majority of my time, and also not that cheap considering I want to stay for like 1 month. It seemed long and I could not be arsed, already turning my thoughts about which country to head to next.

But when Jose called me out for being lazy. I laughed as I realised it was exactly what this is and I have began making movements.

Truth being, the visa feels like a cloud over me. Not a particularly dark or large cloud but a cloud nonetheless, it's the uncertainty of it all. I had a few weeks where I could live without having to think to the future or to the next thing as well as having no obligations. But for now, its back to making sure I can stay here, I'm taking the steps, and having already completed most of them, that I can do for now anyway, the cloud seems to be fading and what was once overwhelming is becoming increasingly easy. one step at a time.

Now although I call it a cloud, and it feels like that, it got me thinking about how lucky I am. The toughest part of my life is going through bureaucracy, but if that fails me, my next move will be where to live next? Argentina, Chile, Peru or Colombia, all of which will make me richer by default. Or go home to England, after the cold. That's a pretty cushty deal and despite the stressors that will inevitably occur throughout this process, the back up options are great paths also.

There are people who will be going through the same bureaucracy and uncertainty in countries around the globe and the importance of their outcomes could break up families or even be a matter of life and death. There are people in America right now going through these procedures to be with their young daughters and sons. There are people seeking asylum from countries who, if denied, could be sent back to a war-zone. There are those who are gay who could face deportation to a country where they would be killed for being who they are and loving who they want.

This has put things in perspective. I may have a cloud blocking a clear blue sky, but the sun still shines, brightly. There are those with blankets of grey, those with thunderstorms and those who have never seen the sun.

This includes those who are currently European citizens living in Britain and Brits living in Europe who are under massive amounts of uncertainty at the moment, I believe, and they may be forced to leave behind lives they have created. I haven't caught a lot of whats going on back home with Brexit but from here it appears to be a shit show. I have a lefty and a righty feeding me strands of information together and there seemed to be a lot of fuss over Jeremy Corbyn calling the sky blue or something?

But these things aside and to the now, I will be thinking of you all back home drinking together and getting cosy from the cold. It's been lovely to speak to people back home and hear of their respective Christmas plans. I synchronised watching Die Hard with Berty which was a Christmas itself and been in a lot of contact with my Mum and Dad who will be over to visit for a week in January!

In the meantime in between darting between government offices filling out forms, I'm finding great solace and peace of mind in coffee shops and bars as well as in even the smallest interactions with friends and locals alike. I hope you all have a lovely Christmas and a fun-filled new year.

Feliz Natal a todos e a todas uma boa noite!

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Always have been, things break around me and this month, this has made itself apparent again. No matter where I am, I will break things.

I should take care more really, but even when I really try to, shit happens.

So heres a list of the things I can think of in the past 2 weeks.

1. the toastie maker, accidentally toasted the wire, cue a few sparks and the end to my cheese toasties. Luckily the only guy who also uses it is in England visiting his girlfriend so I have time to fix (buy a new one) it.
2. My camera, actually gutted about this one, I love this thing, was a present before i left to America and had to be fixed out there, but since then in particular I have been careful with it. But the lens is now not coming out, so will need to look into that.
3. My phone, it's been cracked for a while. the end was near, although it didn't occur how I expected it to.
4. Between the beginning and end of this post, my blinds.

But let me take you back, I left you with the idea that my coding was flying and I would be creating the next facebook in no time.

What a difference a day makes. The Friday when I last posted was spent struggling and not understanding well. I had burnt myself out and was putting too much pressure on myself. Work has not been fruitful recently and I desperately want to be able to make money doing something I enjoy, so I was trying to bust through it, to get somewhere fast. Bad idea.

I had a real moment of angst about the future for a short while. A moment where my eyelids narrowed and my inner monologue may have sounded a bit like this

ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

In that moment I also broke myself, but I sorted it with a nap and the decision to slow down, it will happen over time. I made the decision to learn it down in South America, because I have time. So I will use it and I then spent the evening, hanging out at home and watching basketball.

Now what I have been trying to make is a website to give me football stats to help me break the bookies. Even if the maths doesn't help, the practice will. The maths has a 1-0 start with a nice win of £50 and I left for the botanical gardens feeling pretty chilled again. 1-1 if you count both bets (which I don't). So I left for the botanical gardens with a smile on my face.

This is where I discovered the fault in my camera, so unfortunately I cannot share any pictures, which is a shame cause there were some beautiful birds and some interesting plants. And bees without stings! I still didn't get too close, although now I think about it, I don't know why.

So as I wandered around the gardens without my camera and a phone without data, I thought this would be great, no connection to the world, just in the moment, seeing whats around me. Lost in nature. Unfortunately this was not the case. I spent a lot of it thinking about life, my life and trying to figure myself out. Whilst also giving myself a hard time over things from small things ages ago and over the fact I wasn't in the moment whilst being there and for being narcissistic and thinking of myself.

I did have a few happy distractions, mostly by the birds and the amazonian section, but overall, I think I probably saw more of the path than the surroundings. Sad but true.

Sometimes these thoughts can spiral down and continue, other times I stop myself and bring myself back into the world, this time I spiraled out of it though, feeling I am beginning to internalize something that I know and tell myself all the time, but in practice it's not always so easy.

Essentially, it breaks down to being yourself and not caring about others opinions. I know myself and I love myself and I should be myself but sometimes I find it difficult to actually put this into action. Not always, mind.

I've found I've acted differently at times in my life in order to be liked and accepted, a pretty human feeling, and stopped being me or doing me things, being more normal in order to achieve this.

But that's not really me, I'm acting on, not even necessarily the opinions of others, but sometimes my perceived opinions that others have or might have and find myself analyzing my own behaviour all the while. Self-consciousness.

In reality, I don't know and I shouldn't care what they are thinking. It's not even my right to know, it's their thoughts and it should make no difference to me. But sometimes it does. When I catch myself doing this now, I can start to imagine that person's head as an old fuzzy TV screen that I can't see and that usually flips me back.

I've always respected those who are unapologetically themselves and who don't care.

Its much more important to be yourself because then people will actually like you, for you. Flaws and quirks and all. Or not. Either way.

That's true acceptance.

Watch the video on YouTube

Now this is one part of this, some time away to think about things like this, figure out whats going on in me and to be me. For better or worse I do think these things and other thoughts trying to figure out life, maybe too much sometimes, but I also enjoy asking why and trying to figure out things such as the world, social behaviours and the self. I would rather that, than just ignore it. I will always take the red pill.

Another part is to decide what I wanna do, it's been a toss up between a coder/programmer and a teacher. P.E teacher most likely. And it still swings, I do enjoy the coding but then films like Coach Carter and Freedom Writers, which I watched Monday night, really help convince me that teaching is such a good force in the world. Although sometimes I think fuck it and I should go work on helping the environment cause lord knows that needs the help.

The last 2 parts and the most important is to learn about the languages and cultures down here, and enjoy myself. I am in Brazil after all.

After I've shared with you my honest, slightly negative thoughts and feelings in the day, I can share the same of a much more positive nature;

I felt unbelievably calmer once returning home. The thoughts stopped, the narcissism finished and I looked forward to the night, spending it with Mark and his girlfriend, Thays, at a night celebrating culture from another state, her state. There I was completely out of my own head and in the moment, with zero effort. We enjoyed a few drinks and this time I broke a few hearts on the dancefloor prancing around in the traditional skirt, emulating the ladies who danced alongside me.

We consumed a few more beverages in our favourite barzinho nearby before hitting up a samba night in a alleyway. These nights are always fantastic, everybody is enjoying themselves and dancing along, drinking in the streets. In fact we revisited this spot last night as Thays was singing there. Before we even made it, we stumbled upon a large samba band performing nearby in a street adjacent to many bars.

Most likely practicing for carnaval, this is set to become more and more common, being told that pre-carnaval and the summer months are just street parties with music and costumes, so we sat down and enjoyed good conversation, beer and music before watching Thays sing and attempting to dance with the Brazilians.

Now something weird that's been happening here is I've become very broody. I know that having children will be the greatest happiness and there's time for that, but I've been feeling it recently and feel I could settle at some point in the near future.

One of the street vendors on Saturday had brought her children along, including her 4 months old child which she let me hold. Not the wisest decision this woman's ever made as I'd had a few drinks but she didn't seem to mind. However he did not seem to like it, so I passed him back pretty sharpish. Maybe I'm not ready.

So time to go, Mark had called me an uber but when I went to get it, there was nobody there, and taxistas were being unreasonable with their prices. (£6) So I proceeded to walk for a little bit till I found a Portugeezer to do it cheaper. I'd recently topped up my phone but still had no data, so I could not call the uber and at this point I'd had enough of my phone so I bit it.

Yes. Bit it.

It then turned some funky colours before dying. It being dead was also annoying so I continued to vent my anger by linging it away. This is also a part of me.

HAHAHAHA as if there is a gif for it. Its not only me!

I then heard loud music and followed it to the modern art museum and spent some time trying to barter my way in or get some friends to sneak me in. This failed, so I left to find a cab, but with it being a lot of walking on Saturday I decided to have a wee lay down in what seemed to be a large scale nativity. I did not find Jesus, only lots of kings. I was then asked to move on by a security guard and found a cab nearby who transported me home for £4. Sorted.

So on Sunday it was me who was broken but I was not particularly bothered by my phone. In honesty it was gunna happen and it happens so often, I know all the avenues to go down. I probably shouldn't have got rid of it with the sim card but hey ho, I did. I was considering asking for a phone with a camera for Christmas whilst in the botanical gardens. So it makes my decision easier. Just don't bite this one.

Since then though all's been good, I hit up a Portuguese school to discuss visa options and it looks like a good avenue to go down, a proper school, proper visa and cheap prices for lessons which will help me reach the next level.

The language is going pretty well though, I'm hearing more, speaking more and spent the remainder of the Monday reading my Portuguese book in a nearby cafe, where the sun shone down and I enjoyed not having any contact to the outside word, really appreciating being here and everything that's happening. It was great to get those thoughts out of my head and since then I've felt a lot calmer and happier.

Even being able to write them down here and in my diary is a big help and a step. I encourage anyone who has similar thoughts to just write them down. It feels like letting the pressure of a tyre, through the pen and you can find yourself writing things that you didn't even know you had in you, letting your subconscious speak.

And I know I'm not alone because there are a million and one songs about this very feeling, which always helps to know others feel it, but I've always liked this song and it was always gunna feature. Seems like the right time.

Listen on Spotify

I don't know what I did or said but everyone has left or is leaving.

Within 24 hours, Maddy, Leandro (one of my housemates) and Hanisah all left for England. Mark left for a week but will follow back home for a longer period not 7 days from now and another of my housemates will leave at the same time.

But don't cry for me, avid readers. I've actually got shit to do and money to save. This is probably a good thing in actuality (that's a great word isn't it).

But before Hani went, either side of her trip to Salvador, we got to do a few more touristy and fun things including a couple of beach days. On the Saturday, which I began to mention, was a day in which we explored around Santa Teresa, rode the tram over the famous Lapa arches and walked up and down the Lapa steps.

9 photos from this gallery weren’t in the backup.

3 photos from this gallery weren’t in the backup.

Now the Lapa arches are less impressive knowing what goes on underneath, homeless gatherings by day and drunken debauchery by night. But the steps are quite a spectacle both day and night. By day its full of tourists taking pictures and admiring the many tiles, of which are changed all the while. It is an ongoing art project by Selaron who accepts tiles sent to him, and adds many at different points in the year. I'm thinking of getting Bubbenhall up there, to rival the many American states, particularly Florida. But by night it becomes a hangout for people to drink and smoke whilst casually conversing. I've had many a good conversation sat on the Lapa steps and the Friday night just gone did not disappoint either. I'll always see it as I did then, or the week before, not as the tourist trap it could be seen as in the day. It's a good atmosphere for sure, made even better no doubt by the cheap Caipirinha sellers at the bottom.

This would be Hani's last night, so we went to samba at Carioca de Gema. Similar band as before but this time the place appeared to be a bit more crowded. We still attempted to get a lil' dance in and enjoyed the music but left considerably early for what we would've done years before.

The uber appeared to be a cloud that drifted us home. I don't know what we'd done in the day but my legs were feeling it and Hanisah was tired from her late flight. We spoke of our age and how great it feels to go home early now compared to previous years. As we made it home, I ran straight to my comfy clothes as we joined Jose, who is always up, to watch a stupid joke show while Hanisah ate cereal and I munched on crisps and drank pop. Ah Adulthood

I just don't care as much as I used to. I'd rather sit and have a bottle of wine and chat than go out into a party atmosphere. To a point I think I've always preferred it, but maybe it's just growing up.

( So raging, just scrolled through all my tweets to go quote myself from circa 2012 on this topic and it was a retweet. Also terribly embarrassed by hundreds of my other previous tweets. )

Anywho we rose fairly fresh for Hani's last day and decided to have a nice lunch to leave. It became an absolute battle and really showcased our differences in preference. Each place she seemed to like specialised in pretentious fish dishes, in which, based on price, have been boiled in bottled water and comes with immortality. I almost considered paying £10 for some salad as it was her last day but I just couldn't do it. Particularly as this cluttered French looking restaurant had a great view of a modern looking pizza bar with plenty of space. I really couldn't. So we compromised on the first restaurant we went to and had some Picanha, a specialty here or simply put very rare steak marinated in I'm guessing a tub of salt and it was actually a good compromise as we were both very happy/full as we napped on the beach.

It was a shame as she claimed that the fancy French (two words of which I hold negative connotations) place was her perfect restaurant and equally the pizza bar, two of the greatest things we as humans have created, looked like mine. At one point we joked about ordering from separate sides and waving to each other. I wasn't joking.

She claimed my place had no soul. I said we'd create the soul.

I claimed her place was up itself, she said it was just good quality.

She claimed I have a bland palette, she might have a point.

In fact since I've been here, I've become very disinterested in food, even more so, seeing it mainly as fuel to live. I wouldn't say Brazil has the best cuisine. Ok, the barbecue is pretty good and the picanha might be one of the greatest things, but its all just meat, rice and beans at the end of the day and a lot of the time, over seasoned with salt. With it being brought into the collective consciousness that over consumption of meat has negative effects on the environment and now, with it being more important than ever, it leaves me in a sticky situation which gives me a lot of cognitive dissonance. Being in Brazil, where it literally cuts down the rainforest is an even bigger problem and with their guy about to open it to farming and business again, it really could fuck things up. So now we're really in a pickle.

I've grown bored of my own cooking, due to not being able to afford good ingredients and choosing instead to go round the corner to a guy who cooks chicken, beans and rice with a slight variation each day for a very low price. Its economical and I can't tell you how happy I get when I only have to wash up a plate. I'm tempted to buy 2 of his meals a day and just have cereal in the morning. I feel like one day I'll get into cooking like my dad, but for now this guy'll do and the one contribution I feel I'm making to the world is not eating beef.

Except for Saturday.

And Sunday.

But that's not my fault guys, one of our football crew was leaving so we had a little tournament and some barbecue to finish. the guy even paying for a free bar! What could I do. He brought a bottle of gin, for player of the tournament and to tell the truth I felt a little robbed. Although bottling (lol, not intended this time) it in the final, I thought I had a big influence on the games and banged in a few decent goals.

Despite the big head and Kanye like self-buildupness, there was no award interruption from me and I joined in the festivities to the maximum.

It was great fun, one of the first really social things I've experienced with the group, talking to many people I'd had little interaction with before, speaking portuguese with Argentinians, nostalgia with Brits and mentalities with a German lad, Chris. I hope we do this on the regular.

We discussed the idea of work ethic between the German's, the English and the Brazilians and in my favourite idea of the spectrum it fell, unsurprisingly, a lil' something like this.

Brazil        Me       England     Germany

0 --------------------------------------------- 1

Although it should be noted I've been working off the clock (is that a phrase) recently. Not for money, but on my coding. I've been learning javascript which is essentially when you can start doing fun shit.

html is like building the building

css is painting it and adding the furniture

and javascript is blowing up the windows, hiding living things in walls and cupboards and making the sofa float around the room following you.

It feels like I've got a new toy and I'm figuring out all the settings, just like I used to with other peoples phones. And there is a lot.

It actually doesn't feel like work at all. I'm spending about 5 hours a day on it, always wanting to know more. This was a path I had wanted to follow in sixth form but gave way to other's advice and dropped it for yes, film studies, that important subject, just to get me to uni, to then get a psychology degree... But I've opened it back up and am excited to follow down it.

Back home some of the clearest I was, was mid puzzle. Nothing was around me, I was focused on the logic, it took up all of my thought. And now this is like one big ongoing puzzle. As I walk down the street, my brain turns to how to get that box to give me all that data. Right now I'm stuck, but I'm enjoying that that stays in my thought.

The only thing that distracts me and tbf it does quite often, is the possibility of the future. Quite often, mid project, I have to bring myself back because I'm away thinking of the future, the things I'll be able to do, the places I could go if remote and the money I could make. I do have to bring myself back down and remind myself I'll have to actually learn it before I can do it, I guess I'm more of a dreamer than a doer but I feel enlivened by it. It actually gives me energy.

Anyway, the last few weeks felt like a nice lil' holiday but I'm getting back into my actual life now, watching basketball bi-nightly, alongside the soap and looking forward to Soccer Saturdays, it appears this month will be a lot like this. And the next one, but I have absolutely no qualms with that. I've got a lot of time and it's time to get back on the coding and the Portuguese.

Listen on Spotify

But I have done many new things and seen more parts of the city than I have in the previous 3 months and been with great company all the while. I think its been important to do and great fun. But its also taken a lot of energy out of me.

There's quite a lot to write about and so to integrate with my coding practice, I've incorporated some shortcuts. Please click below to jump to different days to read about them. If you only fancy a couple, I recommend both the Friday's, they were definite highlights and I understand why such incredible artists such as the Cure and Rebecca Black have made songs about them. If you fancy the long haul or like continuity, keep on scrolling baby!

Enjoy


Thursday    Friday   Saturday   Sunday    Monday   Midweek   Friday


Thursday

As a few friends of friends arrived the week before, it took till Thursday to finally meet. Now when people ask me to show them around Rio, the truth is, I don't really know where to take them. They probably don't want to see the basketball bar or the cheap place for food round the corner. And when it comes to the weekend, having been so far disappointed by the nightlife in Lapa, I don't really know where to take them. Besides the beaches.

But it helps when they have an idea, I can take you where you want, alongside my secret weapon of the Brazilian housemate who used to work in tourism, doing exactly that. Showing gems to myself as well as friends in the city.

So the girls Lucy and Lauren, a connection through the family of Ameet's girlfriend, eventually arrived and I joined them to Sugarloaf mountain. Damn it was expensive. I tried to speak to the ticketeers (surely that's a word) and claim a residents discount in my best Português. I didn't get it but the full fee was worth it to go up there, at least once.

When you come to Rio all the advice is to do everything at either sunset or sunrise to get the best experience. Everything. We got many great pictures including my first creep of a couple. They were looking at each other so lovingly and happily that I had to, just missing the kiss. When I showed the girls, Lauren had told me how much she had liked it when someone had sent her the picture, and as a way of feeling less creepy I showed them. They loved it and were very appreciative. And they had brought tinnies up to the top. Legends. Northern Irish. Who very strangely turned out to be friends with Mark!

A photo was here; it wasn’t in the backup.

So we saw the sun go down and the lights go up, before making our way down into Botafogo for some drinks in the bars. We spent the night drinking in a row of bars in which everyone is sat in the street, on chairs I should add. One of my favourite things to do here. But with the night fast approaching, work tomorrow and more importantly the Warriors on, I made my way to the basketball bar of which the girls had actually wanted to join. Something I've found that people generally do if you just do you. Unfortunately though it was not on so we had a lil' nightcap before heading off home.

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Friday

The next day I called on my Brazilian weapon (Jose) (nothing else) to show them (us) around Leme Rock at the end of Copacabana beach

We saw Monkeys.

3 photos from this gallery weren’t in the backup.

I don't think I've ever seen monkeys unless in a zoo and I loved every second. They were inquisitive and curious little monkeys climbing down electricity poles and trees to say hello. Or at least to see what was going on. They would stay calm, staring at us as we stared back at them. We had no food but continued to try to offer them pieces of grass or whatever we could find lying around. It was hard to continue, wanting to stay with them/become one. An old feeling I used to have in university. But we trekked up, seeing again some beautiful views of Rio from a different angle.

I returned after a quick rum and coke with the girls atop the hotel roof, back to nap and get ready for the night out. In Lapa. Lauren had gone and Lucy wanted to go see some samba so I consulted my contacts and received a long list of places. With one sticking out in both of the lists I was sent. Carioca da Gema.

After napping, I didn't feel like going out. I never do. It took a long time to get in the mood, secretly hoping that she too did not want to. But I'm glad again that she did. So we hit up the famous lapa steps that Pharrell and Snoop once graced before meeting Mark and his singer girl, Thays, for a few drinks. This led to an impromptu set from her and her mandolin playing friend in the street, of many classic Brazilian songs, including Mais Que Nada. A few people came over to watch and give their compliments. It was a lovely moment, and on that note, we hit up the samba bar for more.

Now before, I have had a few alright nights in Lapa with one in particular which I enjoyed. But this bar has completely changed my opinion on the place. Upon entering, with our drink still in hand, we made our way to the stage amongst of crowd of mostly middle aged people. We looked the youngest there by quite a margin. The decor, small stage and the buzz surrounding the place, reminded me of New Orleans, holding the title for my favourite place in the world. But now I'm reconsidering.

We stood and watched the artists take the stage and a group of 6, all donning a different instrument, began to play, each exhibiting different personalities and characteristics. We watched a few people around us dancing and as I have done before, we decided to just give it a go. Me using a very slight bit of forro knowledge to lead. Over our shoulders was a couple, who to me, represented Brazilians perfectly.

Both around their 30's, I would guess, beautifully brown, slim. Him in a football jersey, her in a dress just shy of her knees, coloured with a bright background behind blue birds. They moved around swiftly but calmly, moving closer and further apart in time with the music and sharing intimate kisses. Their rhythm was incredible, as was their chemistry. In that moment for those two I'm sure nobody else was around.

But we were, and we attempted many of the same moves and although we may not have nailed them, we had a great night trying. There's something about the dance clubs here, its much more intimate and I for one am a fan.

So we danced into the night, really being drawn along with the atmosphere of the place and the tone of the music, before reconvening for the beach the next day.

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Saturday

Spending the whole day at the beach drinking  beers and caipirinhas, haggling vendors, and taking dips. Becoming slowly more drunk before the sun caught up with us. Lucy had made a new facebook friend in the lady selling cheese; she was particularly lovely with a memorable voice that was very high. I imagine she had a fantastic laugh. We took our drunken tomfoolery to the streets of Ipanema, having one more nightcap before using our towels as weapons/accessories as we made our way back through the streets and eventually the cab.

A photo was here; it wasn’t in the backup.

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Sunday

I then traded her in (lol) for my friend Hanisah, of which we started as I had left off, catching up over a few beers and caipirinhas before hitting up the beach for what was day 2. A great start to Rio for her I'm sure with great weather, better views and topping up the tan before she's even begun. Important for those holiday pics. So we spent the day lounging, swimming, drinking and the like. By 2 o'clock, having already had a caipirinha and a few beers I felt a peak of emotion which was almost too intense and it broke me, I had to take a while to calm myself and chill out. Which we did on another beach amongst friends.

But the weekend, the sun and the drinking had caught up on me and I was beginning to struggle by Sunday night, making, what I felt was a mess of introducing her to Mark and Thays. Trying to get everyone involved with the languages and everything, appeared too much for me in this state and I found the whole thing more awkward than I'm assured it was. So we scuttled away to the hostel and Hanisah kindly made me dinner before sending me home.

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Monday

Now on Monday I pulled out my weapon again (stop it) and we headed to another of Snoop and Pharrell's spots in the city in Parque Lage. A historic mansion with columns surrounding a swimming pool in the centre that is not for swimming. A beautiful spot surrounded by beautiful gardens and jungle like foliage that provides a walk up to the Christ. It's an amazing place that's actually an art college, as if it needed to be any cooler, with people around painting on large sheets or filling classrooms. This may be a future spot for blog writing. It felt comforting, even in the rain. Maybe even more in the rain.

Now when it rains you could be excused for thinking that Rio is only for tourists and service people as the Cariocas retreat in and choose not to leave their house. This is especially true for Jose who tells me as the phrase goes "eu sou feito de açúcar" - I am made of sugar. As he looked fearfully out the window, I convinced him to take us and he did a great job showing us around lil' caves and other parts of the jungleness we surely wouldn't have wondered to.

We saw more monkeys. Further away this time but feasting on a jackfruit together.

4 photos from this gallery weren’t in the backup.

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Midweek

The busyness and heavyness of the weekendness had taken its toll on me as I fell ill the next day and spent the next few days with a painful throat for swallowing, paired with fevers. But don't feel bad for me, I learnt a lot of Português through watching films, including a few cartoons of which Hanisah joined me in her hungover state. And I was back ok by the Friday. Always seems to be the way...

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Friday

In a gamble, I agreed to go do the Dois Irmãos hike for what was another high up view of Rio for what was yes, another sunset. I wasn't sure about how I would be feeling but armed with my magical pills (that I bought from the pharmacy) and a can do attitude I attempted the hike. Now many people, mostly Maddy, had tried to get me to do it, including one previous failed attempt with hostelis, but truth be told I couldnae be arsed on many occasions. Seemed like a lot of effort but I knew I had to do it at some point and with Hani being here it was a good time to concede. Sorry Maddy.

But I was fucking right, it was fucking effort.

So I went to meet Hani at the secluded beach on Sao Conrado, of which she positioned herself as far as humanly possible to the side that the metro wasn't. Long. But the beach was beautiful and very empty, leaving us to dip and relax, able to leave our bags unattended and having our own space.

I didn't really think things through/no-one had warned me/everyone had told me the walk up is easy. So I was only donning a pair of flip flops, worn ones at that, as we made our way up.

Moto-taxiing up to the football field in the favela where the trek began was an enjoyable start. My geezer cackling as he rode past people, pretending to lasso other drivers in front before surging forward. The football field was inhabited by children, no older than 5, being coached in a similar style I had applied when coaching Americans of the same age. Shouting, what I imagine was, TURN AROUND! TURN! STOP! TURN!, KICK!, to stop them from running off the pitch. Although I used to used animals as instructions that I had already primed (For more coaching tips, pm me). Also the football pitch was just turf in terrible condition with many areas of concrete showing underneath. But the fundamentals were the same, from the Favelas to Silicon Valley. Humans.

We began our trek, easily enough, following the track, taking pictures of butterflies and peeking at views through the bushes, each view becoming nicer and nicer the higher we climbed. But the higher we climbed, the steeper it got. The steeper it got, the more difficult it became to climb and, the more my footwear began to let me down... Now the only advice we had had was, do it at sunset/sunrise. Shock. And to follow the beaten track. No signs or anything to help but I mean... this thing just would not stop. The trees in front always hiding how far we really had to go. About 7 hours in (probably 30 minutes) we ran into a few Brazilians on the way down. I pleadingly asked them if we were near the top to which they responded about 20 minutes. I genuinely thought they were having me on, and would not accept it. And they were wrong, it was another 3 hours (they were right). So we plodded on, involving lots of chit chats and having to go barefoot for a large remainder of the journey. I also forgot about water, but thankfully Hanisah had got some so we rationed on the way.

We made it, not before the clouds had blotted out the sun and a chance at sunset, but we made it. It was empty and the views were still incredible. I've started to develop a pretty good 3D aerial image of Rio by now and have seen it from 4 different vantage points and the one thing that always pops into my mind and had popped into Hanisah's is that "which crazy bastard's idea was it to build a city here?" amongst all the high rise mounds and the lagoon, it does not seem feasible. They shouldn't really have attempted it, the city sprawls around each mound an favelas begin to rise up what looks, and I quote 'prehistoric' hills.

But I'm very glad they did as this is fast becoming my favourite place in the world, the vast entertainment across the city matched with a relaxed nature. The stunning views both high and low and the culture of dance, football and pure enjoyment. I'm beginning to love samba more and more with each song and it really just matches the feel of the city.

3 photos from this gallery weren’t in the backup.

As we began our descent, in perfect timing, the rain began to come as the nighttime began to roll in. Just perfect. For a mere second I thought god exists, and he was laughing at us or maybe I had brought on the rain with my constant, although mostly joking, negativity towards the situation. We made our way down with music and still joking around, I actually enjoyed the dark descent through the jungle more. With no shoes and a drop of rain, it felt more adventurous and just silly. Stopping on occasions to look at the favela opposite, lit up like fireflies, and to try and snap the lightning in the distance.

As time began to long out again, Hanisah began to get on at me to hurry up. Now unless you are Mowgli or Tarzan or have done this before then you can complain, but its not fucking easy. Its doable and better than flip flops but I wasn't fast. I dunno how those guys did it. Eventually we made our way down, drinking atop the favela bar to take in a few more views before heading down for a well earned beer, or 4, in the streets of Botafogo amongst friends. A brilliant end to what was a great day.

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Conclusion

On Saturday we headed up Santa Teresa and walked around enjoying ourselves up there and walking up and down the Lapa steps. But for now I've rambled enough and I'm sure you're as tired as I am, and I will be spending more time up there in the next few months.

It has been a long break from writing for me and there is a lot I wanted to get, down, thanks if you are still reading. I don't wish to take this long again but I was very busy and although I've really enjoyed it, I welcome the break. In my moments to relax I didn't get the inspiration to write, choosing to chill out by watching movies or napping. This means I also hadn't got to share many of my thoughts and feelings that I'd had, as they have now gone, but don't fear, I'll spread my pearls of wisdom plenty in future posts I'm sure.

For now Hanisah has headed for Salvador, Bahia for a few days of which I am very jealous and I will spend the week relaxing, reading, coding and not drinking. She will return for one more night of samba on Friday before I send her back off to you guys back home.

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verb

1. To Fuck Up
2. The act of being wrong in conduct or judgement
   • "Eu errei - I fucked up"

I like this verb, we don't really have it in English, but I find it useful and have used it frequently, particularly this weekend.

Before though, flashback to last weekend, quite the opposite.

Last Saturday was as nice a day as its been here, or anywhere I've been on earth for that matter. The weather was so warm, the kind of warm that warms your bones to the core and gives you the feeling of a constant hug. Warm. So of course I did as all humans do and flock to the edge of land to sit on sand in less clothing than usual. Well for most people. I was pretty much the same.

After an hour of searching for my friend, due to a Whatsapp location error. I eventually found her and we spent the day lounging, laughing and talking about everything before a couple of sneaky odds ons got us a wee bit more tipsy than we had planned. With the sunset fast approaching I had to finish 4 beers at the pace of a university rugby player. Inhaling suds and sand as the warm feeling throughout my bones was rapidly changing to cold, a feeling I'm sure many of you back home are familiar with. But it actually enhanced the evening as we tipsily jollied around Ipanema hitting up an Irish bar called Shenanigans which would have been my perfect place had it not been Dublin prices. Irish bar, Karaoke, Stout and Basketball.

I have a new hangover routine on Sundays of heading out to a barzinho to consume a cheese pastel with a can of Guarana. It has since been developed by the discovery of something I have found only in strange but rare places back home. The hash brown hot dog. Completing the trifecta of dank.

From here, the rest of last Sunday flowed perfectly. From beginning to end, things were going my way, the sun was shining and a relaxed atmosphere surrounded myself and everyone I came into contact with. It really was a mentality thing. I hit all green men in perfect time on my way to football and once there, scoring the best strike I've ever hit. I couldn't really believe it myself and responded with the shrug that I must have subconsciously picked up from this man. A common feature.

It carried onto the next few days. After many investments and new challenges, things are starting to fall into place, and it feels like my life is beginning. However there always seem to be one more thing to do. One more thing to get, One more thing to see, however small. Will I always be wanting to do one more thing? I feel one day I will get to a point I will settle and be satisfied. But I'm pretty sure people say that about money and continue to chase. But at least I'm moving forward

"Life is like riding a bicycle, to keep your balance you must keep moving"

-  Picture in my brothers guest room/Albert Einstein

It's the whole pursuit of happiness, and that it's not a destination but actually the journey, and tbf at the moment I'm enjoying that too. Learning new skills but doing so in another country seeing some cool shit and meeting different people.

And its warm.

Sometimes I feel content and ready to come home but guys, I honestly don't think I can handle the cold at the moment. If I cant slide down it, what use is the cold weather. I will stay here at least until the temperature rises back home, if not longer.

So on the Thursday I arranged to meet a guy just for a coffee and a chat about visa options. He's an American I met on the corner 🚩, that has been living here for 2 years and said he could help and give me advice. Although I must admit he was a bit sketchy from the get go. But what harm could a coffee and a chat do 🚩. Well foot in the door technique, next thing I know I've paid for his metro 🚩 to go to Copacabana (as he had got a 'taxi' to meet me) to meet a guy who can help me. A judge of all people 🚩, who hes dragged out of bed 🚩 on a Thursday afternoon. Hmmm. Anyway on the tube he said many things that didn't add up 🚩 and was offering things I hadn't asked for 🚩🚩. I kept my wits and was ready to leave if I was ever uncomfortable, having nothing on me and staying to places I knew. As I then waited in the coffee shop, he left to get his mate 🚩 from the bar. He returned slightly stressed this guy had left (angrily he added), probably because I didn't have any documents on me. Obviously not. He proceeded to write down that all he needed was a copie 🚩 of my passport 🚩. So on this I thanked him for his time and left swiftly for the bus home. I was apparently not welcome for his time.

I became angry at myself for even putting myself in that position and returned feeling foolish, knowing I need to be more careful and sceptical. I'm not in Bubbenhall anymore.

But as Friday came around I'd bounced back to positivity and set out on seeing a film in the film festival that has been going on throughout Rio this week. Through availability and time, I found myself watching a Colombian cartoon based on a graphic novel of the childhood of a girl growing up between Ecuador and Columbia. But that was the whole story. Not a lot happened, maybe I would have enjoyed it more if I was an adolescent, an Ecuadorian, or a girl. but alas I am 0 of those things so it didn't really resonate, but pretty cool that I understood most of the Portuguese subtitles. For the rest I always had the English.

Even cooler though was that night I had a date, with a woman from Bahia studying here in Rio. As I napped before, I almost tried talking myself out of it, for no real reason other than nerves and lack of confidence, or maybe just nap crankiness, I can get that confused. But I pulled myself up, donned my only pair of shoes and my matching jumper and headed for the free show across town.

With 15% battery 🚩 I arrived, relying on location services to find her, not knowing actually what she looked like (Tinder). Upon arrival, across texts (still hadn't found her) she asked me if I remembered to bring food. Obviously not. I'm going to a gig. Not a picnic.

She then resent the message about the gig being free, but you must bring food, I didn't get past the free line of the message clearly and I did wonder why everyone walking past me seemed to have a pack of rice 🚩. I hit up the nearby shop after a brief encounter with her as she was going in and thought I'd give em a treat of salt and vinegar crisps 🚩, a good British staple. What a legend. 2 big packs. One for me and one for the gig.

As I was tucking in to my crisps I reread it one more time 🚩, it needs to be 1kg of non perishables. Fuck sake. Back I go again to try one more time. Choosing to offer another of my ancestral foods in spaghetti. Finally getting in after eating 2 big packs of crisps in the queue (nobody wanted any!), we followed many straight out the door and headed to a barzinho.

Now when we first met I'm sure she thought  'Jesus man, this guy can't speak Portuguese' and she would be right, but we persisted through the first barriers and spoke the whole time in Portuguese. We were understanding each other, speaking more fluently with each beer, as I told her would happen, and laughing and smiling all night. Although be under no illusions, it was nowhere near fluent and on occasions, it would take many attempts to understand, but she continued to do so and we had a great time together. On perfect timing for our exit a group of stilt walkers and performers led a crowd of people down the roads in what is already the beginning of pre-carnaval. A great end to a great date.

Feeling ever more confident now, Saturday began with tiresome work and my second job of betting on the football. Although it doesn't pay particularly well, I enjoy it a lot more and watched the scores come in with, at first belief, and after the pivotal 75th minute with terror, yet another week without pay.

Yes I am in Rio watching Soccer Saturday but that's the absolute beauty, I can do that before heading out to meet my friends and have a few drinks in Rio. Eventually.

Another error, although this time I'm shifting the blame to google. I dunno, maybe shes mad cause I had a date or maybe I tell her to shut up too many times, or make her sing questionable songs but she gave me directions to board a bus to head into Catete. Already pissed off cause its double the charge 🚩 for no apparent reason, it seemed to be taking a long way round 🚩. With the early start this morning, I began to nod off 🚩, thinking I'll be fine and will just rest for a few minutes 🚩. All the time reminding myself of tales of my other half, Harry 🚩 who fell asleep on trains and overshot his destination of what is surely a record number of times in a row. 6. I thought it was 4 but on fact checking, I'm assured it was 6 times. 6. In one day. Can we all take a minute to appreciate that.

Anyway I woke up and we were heading away from my destination 🚩🚩🚩 but not past it. I hoped it might be doing a loop round, forgetting the name on the top of the bus as I got on and I decided to ride it out, pun intended. We then went into a tunnel 🚩 leading away from my destination, something that had also happened on Wednesday night. It began to move farther and farther away as my friends watched my location on Whatsapp, very confused. I realised where it was heading and got off just in time before it headed over what can only be described as a monster of a bridge to another town. Now stuck in the centre, I ubered back to where I wanted to go, paying 4 times the price I had originally intended. Meus Deus. But I eventually arrived, spending the evening drinking outside, way into the night with good company, conversations and feelings.

I frequently jump to conclusions on these things but recently, everything is flowing again and despite the errors, they are just occurrences, which of course even though never intended, add to the occasion. I think its all a question of mindset; when negative, you notice the negative things and give importance to them whereas when your smiling as my man Louis says, the whole world smiles with you and you recognize the positive things and things begin to gain momentum.

Right now I'm in the positive, but in a contradiction of thought, it could turn negative. Gotta go with it, but right now I'm feeling good having another fantastic day at the beach.

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Later on physically heading up, but to a pretty cool coffee festival with an even better view, before descending to watch Flamengo in a lil' pizzeria. At first it seemed quiet for such a big game, but in Brazilian fashion, many of them were just late to the party, including the players. The game not being much of a spectacle until the 80th minute when it exploded into life, with chance after chance resulting in a 1-1. Flamengo still 4 points adrift with 7 games to go.

We continued drinking into the night at a small bar/club next door called comuna which guessing by its inhabitants (and obvious Latin root) means commune or for the communists. A very left-wing atmosphere was building with chants of ele não occurring as well as many homosexual displays. Generally they are so much more open to gay people or trans people and I'm becoming so much more to accustomed to it. Its not that I ever felt uncomfortable back home, it was just more noticeable due to a lack of exposure. Here, its way more common to see two gay lovers holding hands or kissing on the benches as well as an increase in the amount of trans people. Its so much more welcoming.

After a few beers the Portuguese flowed a lil' easier and I was having some great conversations with many people who humored me, helped me and understood me. I did wonder if we would be as welcoming to someone speaking very broken English to us in a club, hmmmm... I left when I could no longer speak in Portuguese. I still had enough to speak English, just about. I returned feeling great and awoke with no real hangover, things going swimmingly.

But what goes up must go down, as I found when returned Sunday night, after a frustrating game of football. As before, there were 3 common denominators, the football performance, the excessive alcohol the night before and the voting of the natives. This time for the real presidency and their far right candidate, who indeed won.

A photo was here; it wasn’t in the backup.

What a picture.

It really depicts the feelings of many Brazilians here, but unfortunately not the majority and this is the democracy in action that I declared my love for one month back. The return home from the football was sound-tracked by a melody of car horns, cheers and 'fireworks'. Although it should be noted I did not SEE any fireworks... In contrast I did see several people in tears. This was as divided as the rest of them.

For myself and some people I've spoke to it's the attitude he projects and validates towards those in the minorities or those more vulnerable. A common theme throughout the world at the moment, a world which could also come under further threat from him.

After all us 'flexitarians' and actual vegans did to try and rebel against the agriculture in places such as the amazon, it seems it may be futile. If he can implement his previous promises, he will cultivate indigenous and protected land for the use of agriculture, mining and big businesses, tearing down the rainforest.

Voices abroad and myself included, looking from the outside with no reference to previous Brazilian politics, can't believe they've chosen this tyrant. But speaking with taxi drivers, friends and locals alike, the rejection for the opposition is much higher than the hatred of Bolsonaro. Many people trying to explain to me how PT have been in power for too long (16 years) and within the last 8 years; violence is rising, the economy falling and their previous 'saviour' Lula is now tainted with the very corruption that Bolsonaro promises to rid. They are hurt. They want a change. Although I'm not sure this is the answer.

Many articles have been claiming fake news decided things and they will no doubt have had some influence but this was always coming, they will not vote for the previous party. It was more about rejection than support for Bolsonaro with 30% who were registered to vote deciding not or voting blank, 42 million people. If the PT faithful hadn't boosted themselves into the 2nd round, another candidate would have definitely had a better chance at toppling Bolsonaro. Alas... here we are.

Already their economy has taken a turn due to the belief in him throughout business circles. Which means bad news for me. Being paid in dollars I have taken a pay cut.

Told you he was a bastard.

This month I was meant to be doing a bit better and have a bit of breathing room but now that's fucked it. I've had to pick up a side hustle and do more hours of work than 15 a week. Modern Slavery.

For real though its a pretty cool tutoring job online, where whilst I'm doing my own shit, people ring me for as long as they like, just to have a chat. The past 2 days I've earned $40 talking to an 18 year old Saudi about FIFA, a Korean lady about the work ethic in their culture, and a guy in Italy about firmware and software. I'm hearing lots of different points of views and actually getting a lot out of it as well as cash money. God bless the empire.

Still though, with the real (the currency) rising, if it continues, I will be priced out of Brazil. I'm not worried though cause looking around it seems any other South American country will be cheaper and I'll be able learn another culture and another language. So come February I will head down South I think, to Uruguay or Argentina before settling in a country of my choosing, possibly Colombia, possibly Peru, possibly not Venezuela. My options are pretty open though and I feel very positive. I will miss carnaval but I'm assured January has a sufficient amount of pre-carnaval street parties to soften the blow and new years will be amazing. I also plan to be in SA next year so I can always return.

So after the fall of Sunday, the next few days flip flopped a bit, with difficulty sleeping being the consequence of blissful naps, good coffee and overthinking.

One of the problems being that working at home or on the move can be lonesome, with little opportunity to meet people. I'm starting to feel good about myself again but I could use a lil' love. My tinder game is not strong, my Portuguese weaker and usually my relationships have been through meeting friends of friends or working with people, where it has just happened, developing with ease and beauty. But here I find little opportunity to recreate it and in the cruel paradox, the more you try to look for it, the harder it becomes to find.

I have been reluctant to enter into relationships of late, part in due to my instability of position and part due to previous experience of such instances. This has had a hangover which lead to reluctance for quite a while, but I have learnt a lot and am more open to the fluidity of future plans and going with how you feel. I do miss being in love. I know its the greatest feeling and will bring me the most happiness, yet there's a part of me holding back from it, telling myself I still have more to do. Seeing families and friends around me, I know the grass is not just greener, but always green.

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This is my favourite verse of all time.

But I have to take the rough with the smooth, I love the freedom it gives me and I know I'll have plenty of time for that, right now I can enjoy the other things, while I wait. And I still find small pockets of friendship. I'm really enjoying the evenings watching the Brazilian soap and sharing Brigadeiro (essentially a bowl of half melted chocolate) Baconzitos (an absurdly addictive crisp) and Guarana (the angels juice). And Basketball.

These things have a habit of coming along at a good time, when everything is going right and it feels good, so I'm not gunna rush things, it will all work out when its supposed to. I just have to have faith and patience.

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Double Chance.

On Monday they will switch to a new online system due to the inadequacies of the current one, which have people camping in the airport and waiting the whole day, others being turned away 10 minutes after opening due to filled quotas.

I planned to get there early in what was a 3 day program of naps and not napping to prime myself to be at the peak of tiredness when I needed it most. Shattered, I went to bed at 7:30pm the previous night to wake up at 11:30pm (solid 4 hours), watch the basketball and leave early. But my body didn't agree...

Anytime I sleep before 9 o'clock he thinks I'm napping and wakes me up after a maximum of 2 hours, which is a massive ballache. So anyway, I faffed until the warriors game, considering allowing myself to sleep if I felt like it, but alas, I did not. For chef Curry put on an absolute show. I can only equate it to a long term girlfriend doing something to remind you why you fell so deeply in love with them in the first place. He was incredible and produced a performance that you (and I) can forever relive here...

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Its funny, I remember in uni learning about sports teams and the attachment of ones self esteem to their team. When the team wins, they are happy and feel good about themselves; when they lose, they take it as a personal loss. Something very strong in my family. Don't believe me? Try and talk to Dad /Berty after Luton/Arsenal have taken a loss. But for real, I never quite got it, maybe I shouldn't have jumped around teams so much. But with the Warriors, I feel it, the other night when we were struggling to make shots I genuinely felt uncomfortable, and frustrated, and not just with the team, albeit a lot with the team. I was feeling particularly sunken when we missed the shot to win the game. In stark contrast, after Wednesdays game I left for the airport feeling perfectly happy, like nothing could go wrong. It's funny, I now have the love for a team, a particular trait from my father no doubt, but in true rebellious fashion I've rejected football and fallen for basketball. Same same, but different.

Maybe that's why I love a bandwagon, a lil' pick me up, the first team I watched play here, Flamengo, have a game tomorrow against top of the table, a win pulling them within one point with 8 or so games to go, and guess who has the hat? ...It's me ...I have the hat. Vamos.

But I digress, back to the airport. When I got there, I danced through the empty corridor all the way to the foreigners office expecting to be the first one there at 2:30am, being that the office did not open till 8. However, there was already a line of 8 bags surrounded by hippies and immigrants sleeping on benches and mats. There was a leak from the rain and the place stunk, mainly of feet, but also of hippy. I couldn't stand it. I went round the corner to read my book in more pleasant aromas, getting through the whole of the Phantom Tollbooth, an enjoyable read with an 'Alice in Wonderland' vibe and many messages to take from it.

A photo was here; it wasn’t in the backup.

I particularly liked the demons such as Terrible Trivium; demon of petty tasks and worthless jobs, ogre of wasted effort and monster of habit, The Triple Demon of Compromise, who always ended up in circles agreeing to do what nobody wanted and Hopping Hindsight to name but a few. All burdensome traits but all so relative to each of us.

Once I'd finished the book, by 4:30am, the corridor began to gradually fill up and funny enough I met a few people who I'd encountered on my travels, the tourist office becoming a social event for gringos to catch up, like rhinos at a watering hole. As 7 o'clock rolled around, I began to lag, until the call was made to get in line. As we did, a police officer appeared and began handing out tickets. Kicking bags out of the way and skipping those who hadn't got their passport ready to hand. Lucky I wasn't first, I thought. I faffed around to get mine out just in time, being given the 3rd ticket. Beleza. He continued along with this ruthless approach all the way to the end before returning to his hole as we waited for another hour.

In this hour I felt a few waves of self doubt, for no real reason, just telling myself I'd probably filled the form out wrong and was half resigned to trying again. I needed another Curry basket to get me going. I had watched the video above at least twice. Once in, the numbers were called. I handed over my forms and took a seat. I couldn't read 'The Outsider' because I was still a little tense and was reading it at lightning speed which did not work with the small sentences. So, I opted for a Portuguese book I'd been gifted, which was surprisingly easier, activating my mind and taking it off of things and passing time (something Tock from the phantom tollbooth would not be happy with)(he's a watchdog)(a dog with a watch strapped to him). With what felt like no time at all, but had been an hour, I was called up and given my extension. Until 5th Feb.

easy peasy squeezy lemons chilllll.

Out within an hour. Before this I was ready and expecting to write up about the pitfalls of Brazilian immigration but I've gotta say it was as smooth as any bureaucracy I've ever experienced, same as Americans and in fact the student loans in England is way worse. But it should be noted, I was there early and one of the first to be seen, I imagine the others had a longer wait.

So I'm here for another 3 months, living with the same guys, ready to continue my Portuguese and see a few more things. At the moment I won't be able to stay for Carnaval, but I have options and that's a long way off. When I was first at the Christ I remember not feeling as if I was here. Not really sure why I was there or what I was doing, but I can say now that I am here. I feel comfortable. Know what I'm doing and only doing what I want. I've had great chats with people back home including my Nan who I know follows this blog. When I chatted with her about goings on here and there and how I'm growing my hair, she replied "back to normal then" and she's right. I do feel back to normal and back to myself.

I'm doing things that I really want to do, tonight I'll hit up a bar to watch basketball after I've finished this and done some coding. Last night I stumbled upon a bar with half price beer and a live jazz band just jammin, so I took to that. I spent the evening sat picking up the good vibrations, with my ears, following them, letting them lead my mind to thoughts of past, present and future all in a positive light as I continue my next few months here in Brazil.

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It's dead cheap, the coffees come with a truffle and the cookies melt in the middle. On top of this and perhaps more important is the fact its open till 21:30 on weekdays and sells beer at the equivalent to £1.50. It's decor suggest Scandinavian but with brighter lighting, positive music and browner people. A hexagonal logo which appears around the cafe tessellates nicely as tables and on the walls something which appeals to my sometimes logical mind.

Earlier today whilst indulging in said truffles and coffee I arranged a hefty refund for my flight to Argentina as I will stay here hopefully for another 4 months. This put me in a mood I can only describe as blissful. I usually attribute this mood to when all my senses are positively stimulated and I have many moments that are stored as snapshot memories that fill these criteria, including; one in Copenhagen, many atop mountains, a couple in the sea but most in good company with the usual backdrop of a bar.

The best way to describe how I was feeling is just to leave this here...

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This guy can express how I felt or can feel and actually I am finding myself dancing around lot, having discovered quite a lot of good music whilst being here. But I'm pretty sure I don't look as good. In fact now we can view our online lessons at any time we desire and I'm certain I don't.

Earlier in the week however I did not feel so good. I spent Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday pretty much in the house besides a few supermarket visits. This was a mistake. At the time I never really felt like I needed to leave. I could cook and save money and I spent lots of time coding and learning Portuguese. The evenings I had the NBA.

I was in a bit of a conflict with myself, I mean... I'm here to live, not just be a tourist. I cant go out and party every night, eat out and see everything like I'm travelling. But even at home just staying in can drive a person mental and I am here in Rio, I do need to do a bit more or it will past me by. So for the weekends at least I'm gunna try and make sure I do more sightseeing kinda things and I'm gunna get out the house every day even if it's just to the cafe. Overall it was just too much time with myself and as most people know, too much time with me can get annoying. lol. That's a joke, LAUGH. But I can get myself down a bit and convince myself I'm not very good or good at anything, or that nobody actually likes me. Which is of course absurd.

So on Thursday we went to go see Venom and even something simple like heading to the cinema made me feel a million times better. And everyone hating on Venom, you're wrong, which is fine, you're allowed to be wrong, but still...you're wrong.

I loved it. Fun, easy, Venom's a bit of a dude and it fits in with the narrative of the 2 systems, the inner battle of the ego and the id which has appeared in a lot of art I'm consuming recently. Ok, in us it may not be as intense as an alien wanting to eat peoples heads off (in most of us) but the idea came from somewhere right and the more I talk to people about these sort of things, the more I hear the words "I get that".

One of my favourite things to hear, it causes a strong connection and a fantastic feeling of being understood.

It helps me not to pathologise things that I think and feel, and convince myself I'm crazy when its completely normal. So thanks Eddie/Venom, you get it, and you helped me accept this side of me rather than fighting against it, I definitely feel more at one. He's also a Warriors fan. My guy.

This stems to all art, it can be used to express things which can otherwise be hard to do. Through painting, writing, characters and in my opinion the most powerful, Music.

To hear somebody else describing the emotion you are feeling better than you can articulate it yourself is an amazing feeling. You not only feel understood but also understand better. Kid Cudi was always great for me, amongst others but I'm sure we all have our artists. Even the notes on a piano or a harp can strike a chord (completely intended) with how we feel and I just think that's an amazing social phenomenon. Where would we be without music, or other forms of art.

But ye, lesson learned, get out of the house, don't stay trapped inside your own house and your own head. Be social. Have fun.

I found a bar that shows basketball also 2 minutes in the opposite direction to the cafe so I'm pretty set. But as I sit here, about to read my second book this week and off to the beach and a beer festival thing this eve, I'm content, with both myself and how everything is going.

I struggled to decide which version is better so here's both. You decide.

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The week has steadily progressed with each day, I think I'm gunna start plotting how I feel on a graph so I can look back on it.

After Monday's stressful start, Tuesday began much better and what was meant to be a day of Portuguese learning, ended up in a long discussion with my housemate on everything from politics to space + time with stops everywhere along the way such as religion and sexuality.

I've always watched sitcoms and wanted that mid 20's/30's life where they live together, all get along and get up to shenanigans, a la New Girl, Friends and the like. That group, and the sense of belonging to one that can be elusive at times.

No real shenanigans as of yet but we do all get along and hang out, its a great atmosphere in the house and I'm really in a place where I can relax. I love it here.

I then had a provisional date planned for Wednesday with a Brazilian who spoke no English, so I spent the day studying more and more Portuguese. Just incases. It fell through but I wasn't disappointed, I kinda knew it was coming and watched Independence Day in Portuguese instead. I felt good about how much I understood, with the help of subtitles and the added memories of previous viewings.

I ended up learning the language into the early hours of the morning, not because I had to but because I found myself in a real state of flow and had an inspiration to learn. It's also helping me with my patience. When learning a new skill, its doesn't noticeably improve day to day particularly, only upon reflection, similar to the growth of abs when going to the gym or growing your hair. Another thing I'm also putting into action. The hair, not the gym...

So with growing my hair (a big one), the new job, new friends, the language and the coding, I have a lot I'm building slowly.

I found myself in that state of flow again when I began to create a website on Thursday. I think I overestimated myself and tried too much for my first attempt but during those few hours I only had thoughts on how to program before relaxing with a couple of table beers in my beloved Barzinhos, again speaking of important topics.

Friday followed a very similar blueprint, albeit it with more extreme values, getting more crunk and hitting the town with the English trio of online teachers; myself, Maddy + Mark, a group of which I again feel very much part of. They want to call us the super cool kids crew but I defiantly disagree, which is most likely why they want to name us that. All night, we drank, danced and debated; not just the name but politics, energy, sports and pretty much anything. We are a very honest lil' group which lays everything on the table and as I walked home listening to music, I felt completely happy, dancing my way home.

Saturday in turn began slowly but built nicely as myself and Maddy hit up the Maracana, to watch the Fla-Flu, coined many years ago as a classic of the crowds, it's a Rio rivalry spanning many years. It's been labeled as more of a celebration of Brazilian football than a heated rivalry In the same manner as the last game it wasn't the standard of football but the crowd that is the real draw.

We didn't have tickets and went on a whim, scouring outside for ticket touts, of which there were of course many. Many trying to charge extortionate gringo prices. But they had all the power as we had no knowledge of Portuguese or how to get tickets. That was half the fun though, being around the crowds, beer in hand trying to find tickets. I know Ameet gets this feeling (happy now?). We ended up overpaying (relative to Brazil) and sitting in the far from sold out away end of the Fluminense fans. But that's the price you pay for having that attitude, I dig it and it definitely didn't take away from the day, despite the distinguishing of the Flu fans throughout the course of the game.

One beer seller, who brings it to your seats btw, was clearly a Fluminense fan and struggling to hide his emotions (if he was even trying), punching and kicking empty seats, giving the finger to nearby Flamengo fans and spending most of his time with his head in his hands. He can't have been the only one who wasn't happy as after the game, around a corner of which we couldn't see, something was clearly kicking off as policemen on horses were charging in. At one point nearby we saw a man running away from, I shit you not, a policeman chasing him on horseback brandishing a sword. A fucking sword!

We swiftly left to meet some friends at an art museum which was having a ridiculously cool event. I'll be honest, to begin with I wasn't overly keen, I'm not particularly into my modern art and just overall imagining it to be too cool for me.

So, Saturday night in Rio De Janeiro, I'm attending an art museum with funky music, surrounded by art, big hipster crowds and people skating. It was probably one of the coolest places I'll ever be and I loved it. It was a really chilled atmosphere as people just hung around, drinking beer from outside vendors and boogieing to some great music. Everybody was dressed well and looked amazing, many in basketball jerseys, the thing which probably most drew my attention. I was also wearing an old school Miami Heat jersey so probably looked the coolest out of anyone... except for a guy in an old school purple Raptors jersey.

Bastard.

I actually chased him to the toilets weirdly to get a picture but I can't get it off my camera.

I awoke on Sunday in a great mood; I hadn't drank too much, had a clear head from the week, I'd been eating well (not cooking well, but good amounts) and was just generally feeling relaxed. I kept doing stupid little small things but nothing was bothering me. I felt good.

I headed to play our regular football game on Sunday evenings. Each week I've been growing in confidence, and playing better and better despite having to use my basketball shoes! This week we had a strong team and we played some beautiful football. Linking up with Brazilians, Colombians and Irishmen alike to face off against 2 teams of Englishmen, Russians and Argentinians to name a few nationalities. One of the Argies classically bringing down our Colombian trickster in true Argentinian fashion.

But the pace of games and standard of the games was high and once more I found myself fully immersed and focused, having one of my better games.

This sense of flow has become more and more occurrent in all facets of life, including socially, and was exactly what I was looking for, along with the sense of belonging I've found within the football group, the English and the Brazilians.

Usually an over-thinker, I now find in my spare time this thought energy is directed to problem solving or positive reflection whereas in the moment I am becoming locked in to situations around me and things are becoming much more natural.

On top of all of this, I got paid, I passed the probation period of my job and the Basketball season is back tomorrow. Things are all going well.

Now this song, albeit originally about God, for me is more about drawing strength and turning positive, as well as a feel good sound which represents my feelings for the NBA being back in the morrow.

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In line with this I now wanna share a post by Kevin Love who despite being a professional Basketball player for our previous rivals, he actually helped me to write my honest feelings here due to his post about his panic attacks and sharing. Writing it down really does help. If its quite long at least scroll down to the bottom.

With mental health awareness day last week, a big thought to those who are suffering but also to everyone, we are not all mentally ill but we all have mental health and its important to look after yours.

Everyone is going through something that we can’t see.

The thing is, because we can’t see it, we don’t know who’s going through what and we don’t know when and we don’t always know why. Mental health is an invisible thing, but it touches all of us at some point or another. It’s part of life. Like DeMar said, “You never know what that person is going through.”

Mental health isn’t just an athlete thing. What you do for a living doesn’t have to define who you are. This is an everyone thing. No matter what our circumstances, we’re all carrying around things that hurt — and they can hurt us if we keep them buried inside. Not talking about our inner lives robs us of really getting to know ourselves and robs us of the chance to reach out to others in need. So if you’re reading this and you’re having a hard time, no matter how big or small it seems to you, I want to remind you that you’re not weird or different for sharing what you’re going through.

Kevin Love

Even if its just sharing in a text, us Millenials are getting pretty good at this, and I'm always here to listen, honestly, I've got loads of time.

After watching the UFC fight last night at a place literally called 'fight bar' drinking caipirinhas (terrible things) I awoke with a stonking headache just in time to escort Jose to the polls to witness their democracy in action. I originally took a camera and intended to document it, but with the big burly security guards stood next to signs saying no cameras, I thought better of it. He voted in a country club in Ipanema of where he used to live and gives the security guy a warm handshake.

He tells me he sees this guy only every 4 years but they greet each other as if they are very good friends who share a treasured history. I loved this relationship they shared of only interacting when the elections come around yet both enjoy seeing each other, even for a brief moment.

Standing around waiting, and I was waiting a long time, was very enjoyable, the hall was filled with people, all with different opinions on how the country should be run, lots of them donning Brazil shirts and stickers of their favoured candidates. Crazy and divided as it's been, and will continue to be, I loved just thinking about democracy and how every one can have their say. As the quote says...

I do not agree with what you have to say, but I'll defend to the death your right to say it.

- Evelyn Beatrice Hall

It really is a great thing. Which is why its important to vote, and why its scary that Bolsonaro will get in. He constantly sympathises with the torturous dictatorship they had here in the 60s, 70s and 80s and has said before he wants to go back to one, although he has since backtracked. Jose's sister was going to vote for Bolsonaro until on the way her thoughts turned to how great it is she can vote before realising that to vote for him is against the very thing which allows you to do so.

The results came in last night, and he just missed out on the majority, reaching 46% which means a second round against the left candidate who received 29% of votes. However as discussed before he is being mostly rejected due to his party's recent corruption, another protest vote to spite their face. Lots of people are rejecting Bolsonaro aswell, but he will most likely get the 5 percent he needs to become the new leader.

This topped off a Sunday which actually had me feeling pretty low anyway and for the first time here I was feeling pretty lonely, with thoughts about coming home. It was a culmination of a few things, the alcohol from last night, the fact my Portuguese progress seems to have stagnated, a more confrontational football game and the prospect of a military dictatorship. But I was very sensitive to even the slightest thing, which in turn lead to me getting frustrated with myself for being sensitive and giving myself a hard time. I thought of it as a long wave and settled into bed to watch Guardians of the Galaxy in Portuguese. Its funny, I could understand Groot more than the others. At times like this you just gotta go to bed, accept defeat on the day and pick yourself up again in the morning ready to start again and move forward.

Well the morning seemed to have only gotten worse. I woke up at half 5 to find the internet and the source of my livelihood was down. Upon resetting there was nothing. So back up plan is to use my phones data. Ah. I only had 60p credit left, so I had to wait for the shops to open to get some more before returning sharpish ready to teach. Worst of all we also had run out of coffee for the flat and in my cafuffle I dropped the rest of my cake, a breakfast staple here, on the floor. But I struggled through the morning and made all my classes with no glitches and left the room taking a deep breath.

Out there I encountered 2 of my room mates discussing the internet which appears to be down in the whole region as well as the TV and wont be on till later today, so I'm writing this draft in notepad. We sat and laughed, blaming everything that was going wrong on Bolsanaro basically being in power as Jose munched on a butter sandwich. This morning being a precursor of the next 4 years.

I needed that, laughing as everything was going wrong around me and taking myself less seriously, and as the day drew on I began to feel a lot better, finding a second wind and motivation to continue, feeling the waves washing back out to shore.

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4 photos from this gallery weren’t in the backup.

Yes, there's a hammock!

You may remember I discussed the house hunting process a few weeks back...

"I began in the student area, what a guy, the front-runner, living with 3 brazilian dudes in a belter of a room in a pretty cool area close to both the center and the beaches. Just need to plug into his internet. He may appear later in the stories."

Well, he does. His name is Jose and the landlord of this flat, and here, there's a difference, its nicer and therefore more expensive but more importantly, the guys hang out together and we have now most nights. As soon as I arrived all 3 came out to greet me and we headed into the back patio where we spoke for a long time. Of Brazil, of England, similarities, differences and politics. This then led to a long political debate between the Brazilians in of course, Portuguese. I insisted they continued in this way.

They have an Presidential election coming up very soon and its becoming an increasingly interesting one, which has led to a lot of debate and involvement.

I couldn't understand all their discussion, as we all know, when politics is the agenda, the passion and speed increases, but I got the gist. I could tell what each person stood for, who disagreed with whom and where they stood on the political spectrum. One left, one center and another leftish center, but as it seems that's not so clear this time around.

I really am understanding more and am becoming more and more comfortable using it. I had my last lesson today, because moneys a thing, and came out ready to start living amongst the Cariocas. Ironically though when I received my certificate and the teachers showered me with praise, I tried to ask where my cake was and failed miserably, asking "where the ball?". Also earlier I had the teacher laughing because my two most common phrases equate to "I don't know" and "not much". Solid Base.

Despite my pitfalls, when we were all hanging out watching the debate the other day, with the subtitles on, I could understand way more than I imagined, again knowing each persons position and main issues. The only killer was the speed of the speaking. If I could deconstruct time and slow it down, life would be easy, but it's at least getting easier.

They had some similar characters, A loud mouthed right winged guy with 1% of votes who shouted his points. A lefty with no tie, who seemed pretty chill (I liked him because he spoke clear and slow, and yknow... left), and an older very rigid man who wants everyone to have cards which can be swiped with all their medical history on. I think.

Now, one guy wasn't there. The front-runner. Scared you may think?

Well, no, but Brazil should be, he was recently hospitalized because he was stabbed by a guy with mental issues who disagreed with his views. I can see why. Imagine Trump but with a military background. His name is Bolsonaro and he's divided the country, riding high on the crest of the right wing wave engulfing the world.

Seriously, look up some of things hes said, they are terrible, beyond imaginable for a presidential candidate. Such highlights include

"She doesn't deserve to be raped because she's very ugly. She's not my type, I'd never rape her. I'm not a rapist, but if I was, I wouldn't rape her because she doesn't deserve it."

—Bolsonaro speaking to Zero Hora in December 2014, explaining why he previously told leftist deputy, Maria do Rosario: "I wouldn't rape you, you don't deserve it."

"I wouldn't be able to love a gay son. I wouldn't be a hypocrite, I'd prefer a son to die in an accident than appear with a moustacho."

—Interview with Playboy magazine, June 2011

As you can imagine, this has sparked furor, debate and many protests

A photo was here ("not him"); it wasn’t in the backup.

But he will return for the second debate healthy and unfortunately bolstered by this attempt on his life. His military background is an issue and his Trump-esque claims that he wont accept a loss make him scary win or lose.

Now they have a first round of voting on Sunday of which they may choose from a variety of candidates, but similar to America, only the top 2 advance to the second round of which you may only choose one.

Hopefully all those against Bolsonaro will combine, although he already has a worryingly high 40% of votes, considering this probably doesn't include the silent voters who will hide their preference because they know its socially unacceptable to support him. I know one person who told me his vote was a secret... so its not really.

The real problem is, that the second most popular is the left candidate, A man advocated by the once great Lula who I am told once did even greater things for the poor people of Brazil. However he currently resides in jail due to his involvement in a huge corruption scandal, involving the oil companies (shock) and other members of their government. This has really rocked Brazil, with people telling me how let down they feel by Lula, how they will not vote for his 'puppet' and the status quo, which they wish to change.

Lefties and centrists alike considering going extreme right for a change, ignoring certain aspects of Bolsonaro's views, of which to me are inexcusable, all in the hope of something different.

To me it feels like talking to a friend who runs into the arms of a relationship that is only bad news. They know what this persons about and how they treat people, but they don't care. From the outside, it seems crazy, how can they do this? How can they ignore these views? But on the inside it's different. They don't want to go back to how it was. They were hurt. Big time.

Why did you do this to them Lula.

I gave my views, discussed Trump, they told me they would never have voted for him if they were American and they can see the comparisons, but it seems things are different on the inside. They are flirting with the idea of a no vote, of which I expressed my regret of not sorting myself to vote in Brexit. They listened and it seems they all have a lot to consider, to them picking the lesser of two evils. Although possibly the more.

The central candidates are supposedly considering dropping out to combine for one popular candidate to help him or her advance and take on Bolsonaro. Will it be enough, who knows, but it's definitely in the balance and an incredibly intriguing election.

Why am I always in the country for the election of tyrants.

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I'm going through a process of trying/learning a lot of new things all at once;

1. Portuguese
2. the job
3. coding
4. meditation
5. forro

Each one is going pretty well, the routine is helping and I can feel myself taking a step forward with each one, although sometimes one step forward is not enough...

I've been going to a few free trial dance classes with a couple of online English teachers also living here. We began our free classes with forro at about 2 on Saturday, myself donning a pair of flip flops, green shorts and baggy purple vest. Mark, a big Irish dude, opting for the more sensible option of trainers. The camp instructor was very enjoyable and made us feel welcome, helped by the small class size of a dozen or so. It didn't stop the nerves altogether though, with my right leg in particular feeling very tense, not ideal for a rhythmic dance.

It's not particularly complicated at the basic level, just very rhythmic and close. We all joined hands and moved in a line before moving into a circle. By 2 minutes a more experienced, later impatient, lady came between us to help us both out. My flip flops slapping the floor with each step, giving away my poor rhythm. The concentration at times was my downfall, thinking about the steps unsurprisingly put me out of rhythm, but with more practice it became more natural.

I decided to ditch the betraying flip flops and go barefoot at the next possible opportunity. We chose partners like a school disco, with the girls rotating around the room every few minutes. The patriarchy is still alive. stay woke. Although the women were definitely the ones leading and telling me what to do, one filling my confidence by counting for me... Mark seemed to be doing a slightly better job, but as we discussed afterwards, there was a few women who seemed to enjoy helping us and were patient and a few who were less amused.

They were all generally helpful though and the instructor took it at a pace which built it all up into the full dance with turns and all. I can confidently say we got there in the end.

We loved it all and descended on a barzinho with our friend Maddy where we spent the rest of the day drinking, maybe a bit too much, and sharing stories and such.

We enjoyed it so much we decided to head to another free trial of the midweek lessons at the same place, convincing Maddy to join us.

This was a bit different, it appeared there was a massive increase of people and when it started people just started dancing without instruction. madness.

We joined in, and already my first partner began counting... great. We were quickly scouted out as newcomers, again like inception, and guided over to a corner, away from everyone else, with a few others. We then all had a partner each who lead for us, with brief interludes to be taught. This class was very different, a lot more people, a lot more pace and our corner just danced and figured it out ourselves, or didn't figure it out if so the case. There was lots of laughing, lots of missed steps and a few bruised toes for my poor partner. I had not even attempted the flip flops this time.

But towards the end, certain things began to come back, I was doing the spins ite (ish) and the basic steps lol. Mark seemed to widen the gap and was looking good whilst Maddy was holding her own, although she does say its a lot easier with the man leading, but overall an enjoyable night an it will not dissuade me from future dances. Marks already hunted out another few free classes so we'll head to them pretending to be beginners with a bit more experience each time.

And I'm still dancing at lunch times whilst cooking or pre-shower, or whilst teaching (a requirement in one section when the child says pear) and at these times I can honestly tell you I'm a fantastic dancer...

But I'm actually finding a lot of rhythm and flow in my other aspects of life so I'll take that, if not the dancefloor.

I've also attached a page called soundtrack for a playlist of these that my dad's made, or the songs I'm listening to. Enjoy

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I can actually feel myself settling, metaphorically nestling into a little burrow. I first arrived basically as a traveller and it was pretty non stop, then I found my place and probably did a little too much of nothing and now I've calibrated and started to develop a little routine that works.

I wake up and spend my mornings encouraging children named Dingding, Coco and Mango to say, no, shout... apple, pear and mangooooooooo! Its actually a great wake up, helped by Brazilian coffee and I'm all done by 11:00

I then have a 3 hour lunch break in a usually empty flat which allows me to crank up the tunes and bust out the moves whilst I prepare something to eat. I'd feel that I'd be lying if I said cooked. My poached eggs have been particularly poor recently. If I'm feeling fancy I'll go out and treat myself to lunch. I think I need to eat more, I think I've lost a bit of weight and it hurts to sit for a while, I need some padding. It's a lot of rice, beans and meat here it seems, think I'm flexing my veggieness a bit too much...

When I do go out at 12 the kids are finishing school, the bars, barzinhos, cafes and restaurants are filled with people out for lunch, by themselves or together, it doesn't matter. Older geezers sit around sharing a large beer, which is bought for the table, that they share around in little glasses. If you want another one, you simply take it out of the container and they will bring you another one.

It's a great system, by the end of the solo beer its warm anyway, particularly here, and even in England I only the chug the bottom because well, I've paid for it and years of peer pressure probably. I love the camaraderie around it and the idea of sharing all the beers for the table and its always cold... depending on who you drink with.

I then continue with my Portuguese lessons, having full conversations about literally anything; politics, psychology, sports, movies, women. I leave feeling like I'm fluent until I go to out into the real world, where everyone speaks a million miles an hour and I'm still very much a gringo. But I'm getting there.

I might catch the game or maybe see somebody for a bit but I usually head back to 'cook' and relax with a film and chocolate before sleeping. Netflix and chill by myself. The imitation game yesterday was so good!

A simple life I know, but the one I needed. I can't however go as slow as the Rio natives, meus dias. I need to have at least something to fill the time for my mental. When the lessons end I'm gunna turn to coding and try to live even more remote! Eventually. I am also gunna learn to dance, as those nights, along with the football, have been amazing.

I went to a samba night last Saturday with the other Portuguese learners and I've gotta say I was hella tired and could nae be arsed, but the energy in the room became infectious. It was a practice for loads of the bands who will perform at Carnaval and everyone was dancing and constantly moving. The feet move a bit fast for me, there is a video of me dancing but I can't post it on here, thank fuck. I prefer the slower sensual forro but still, the bands were amazing and the atmosphere even better, people handing out huge flags for everyone to swing around amidst plenty of professional dancers. I found myself up until 4 still dancing on the way home. I will be attending many more of them.

The weekend was fun but the week routine has been so good for me, I've had many discussions back home with people about how it keeps the mind disciplined along with other benefits. It has a prolonged focus separated by smaller breaks of freedom, by which time, the mind usually requires them. Takes me back to the structure of school. Even working in schools you can see it. Lunchtime is needed and they need to be left alone, mostly. By the end of lunchtime its usually mayhem on the playground. By the end of the day they're all mentally spent.

It's been great for my head, although I can't sit here and tell you it's all figured out. I still rack my brain trying to figure myself out and recently with a few accidental naps I fucked up my sleeping pattern big time. This led to me lying in bed till 2 with an overactive mind which begun a spiral of self centered, anxious, undisciplined thoughts that I couldn't seem to stop. I actually wrote a whole post to it one of the nights I couldn't sleep but that was more for me. Putting it out on paper is something I used to do in forms of raps and now with this and a diary, honestly, it helps immensely. It clears everything out, as if the voice has had his say and is content. So its done its job, the post is still there but it is not representative of my whole being at the moment, just brief interludes.

I'm now doing well to think of it as waves on the beach, if I try and fight these thoughts and suppress it, it is futile and only gets worse, I get hotter and cloudier in the head and they continue. But if I just see these thoughts coming as a tide for example, I imagine myself stepping back on the beach and just watching them come and pass. They surprisingly fade out in time and quicker than expected. They still occur but it's definitely getting better.

This focus is returning and everything's indeed settling. I'm laying down roots, going for drinks and lunches, and joining a football group, but still very much enjoying being alone as well. For now. It gives me time to slowly do as I wish, complete simple tasks and move forward, I definitely feel I'm on the right path, slowly but surely.

Now off for a few shared beers before bed and repeat.

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When the main characters infiltrate the dreams, they continue in the dreamworld unnoticed by the dreamers 'projections', until they perform an action which is abnormal and all of a sudden, the 'projections' all turn to face the foreigner inside the dream.

That is the scenario I find myself in fairly regularly here. I appear Brazilian and native to many, being brown and having only worn flip flops since arrival, finishing off my outfit with shorts, a vest showing my necklace and possibly an open shirt with a funky pattern if the weather requires. Muito Carioca

I genuinely fly under the radar, until I either do something that personifies me as a "gringo" or I open my mouth.

One instance of this was upon the metro. Rush hour, a busy station, I was very tired from walking all day, I began to board the equally busy train as an old lady stopped dead in front of me. I squeezed past to head into the carriage barely scraping her bag. She began to say a few things to me in Portuguese in a disapproving fashion. I was thinking, fuck off love, you just stopped and I barely touched your bag, but of course responded with my most used phrase "desculpe, eu nao falo portuguese". It was at this point, I came to notice a group of 3 girls turn to face me. I turned around and 6 or 7 more women were staring at me. An awful lot of people looking now and a surprising majority of women it seemed. It was at this point I realised I'd boarded the women only carriage and that this is what the old lady was of course telling me. I squeezed off in time but not in enough time to get back on elsewhere.

Moments like these and moments where I cannot understand a word they say make me feel like a gringo and it frustrates me so. I have begun private Portuguese lessons, 3 hours a day, 3 days a week and its already helping. Yesterday I understood so much of what the guy was saying and was surprising myself at what I could say. It takes a helluva lot of focus to listen to every word they say. A few seconds of distraction and you've lost the scent, you once more have to regain focus before you can understand what they're saying. I understand more than I can say and they talk more than I, but it's a nice change for me to do the listening for a change.

Within those 3 hours I find myself pretty absorbed in the lesson and have less and less thoughts distracting me, I feel locked in, I love it. A feeling I only felt during competitive sports or teaching, which is now starting to emanate into more aspects of my life.

My teaching job has begun and although locked in for the 25 minute lessons, It's not quite the dream job I had once portrayed. I can only work for 15 hours Mon- Fri atm and there's a chance the 25 minute slots don't get booked or they just don't show up. On both of these occurrences I receive no money, so I need to start working weekends, get a side hustle or just live super frugal. I will though and this is exactly what I wanted, to make it work, overcome such obstacles. It was almost too easy it seemed, and it was, but I'm not worried and am loving the problem solving mindset that it's brought on.

In the meantime I'm adopting the Carioca lifestyle, and keeping it slow; yesterday working in the morning before slowly getting ready, eating, and making my way to a cafe for a coffee and to read my book. I then hit the beach , upgraded to a beer and finished reading.

The book is called "The Island of Dr. Moreau". Cracking little read, would recommend. Although, the Simpsons annoyingly did their own interpretation in Treehouse of Horror and also I couldn't help but envision one of the characters as Mad Eye Moody. But apart from these media planted blips in my imagination, it was great and gets the mind thinking of the beast within. The animal mindset in us.

The last 3 books have weirdly all had this notion behind them. Its got me thinking a lot about the drives and noticing my own actions. Those driven by the animal and those by the human. The id and the ego. The feeling and the thought. Or as homo deus calls it, the experiencing self and the narrating self.

I find my narrating self or my thought, when its in control, doing great things or making movements such as deciding to go to Brazil, making plans in advance, getting lessons, doing good things and generally throwing myself in the deep end making my experiencing self deal with it.

Which is probably a good thing because my experiencing self would like to curl up and read buzzfeed and watch netflix all day with occasionally comforting social interaction. I do find myself at times being nervous, when it comes to actually doing things but I make myself do them anyway and I'm always glad I did because I always enjoy it once I've done it, like jumping into a cold river. Kinda like having a devil and an angel on my shoulder arguing about decisions in the present moment.

I read something inspiring about this recently, how we should remember that its not the devil or the angel in control but actually the person in the middle and we have the power to choose who to listen to.

And sometimes its also better to listen to the devil.

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Shoutout to Shaun Livingston on the cameo.

My next book to read is "thinking fast and slow" of which appears to go in more depth about these states of mind. I'm really getting into my psych stuff and my own psyche but as I maintain with many of my previous classmates, people studied psychology at uni to understand themselves just as much as the people around them. So prepare for more on this.

My narrating self has given my experiencing self 3 situations over this weekend alone to do shit he probably doesn't wanna do as it draws near, but he will, have fun dude.

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This may sound sad but actually, I was not and I do not feel alone. Instead I got a bite to eat, met some Brazilian who is a B-list celeb in Portugal, weirdly, before watching the Brazil game alone in a bar. They cared as little as we do for friendlies.

So I returned to spend my evening with a chocolate bar, a beer and Captain America. I could not have been happier, this whole weekend has been spent training for the job, reading, coffees, beers and Netflix.

Now that the job is in place and the apartment is sorted for the next 3 months, I finally relaxed. I watched films and series and found myself engrossed in them (honestly almost crying at some terrible movies). I read books without wandering off the page, it would occasionally drift but only due to the thought provoking nature of the book and in the way it intended. My head was silent apart from the constant sound of songs in my head, which I fear will be harder to rid.

That is what I was looking for, back home I had way too many voices in my head and discussions going on. I couldn't relax. I needed to have some alone time and this weekend has done exactly that. I could have done this anywhere, ye, but that is also the point, I can do it anywhere so why not Rio, where I can also hit up the beach and the town when I feel like it for 6 months. I miss many people back home but am in frequent contact with lots of them and hopefully they understand that I needed to do this for me, to take a step forward and begin my life (I'm so gutted I cant explain it to Lola). I'll be back, probably.

I still have thoughts and discussions fill my head but those thoughts at the moment are the visa sitch, and whether I should leave for a month to Buenos Aires, so I can return and stay hopefully for carnival or just get the extension and leave a month before. If I leave it would stifle my settling here for almost 2 months but then, carnival. Before it was where should I live, by the beach or in the student area with 3 Brazilians.

But these are great problems, I compare it to being a football manager having 3 brilliant strikers, the Argentina problem. Do I play Messi, Higuain, Aguero or Tevez (once upon a time). Obviously I'd play Aguero and have Messi somewhere, but the point is, its a great problem and if my head can fully focus on that, everything seems easier. Decisions seem clearer (which is not my forte).

So I have chosen to live with the 3 Brazilians for the next two months, learn Portuguese and read more books and drink more coffee, from there we'll see how it goes, hopefully stay 3 more + carnaval and then hopefully on to another South American country, learn Spanish and explore another culture. I'm digging old civilizations atm, maybe Peru. I don't know, but the fact these are the thoughts echoing in my brain, is a good thing.

The slow life of hammocks and coffee shops suits me.

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I got the job,

Smashed the mock

It means the world to me. Literally,

I can, for the time being, live wherever I wish as long as the wifi is acceptable, the weather is good and the government lets me.

That is free,

I admittedly did the stupidest dance I've ever done down the hall, and I've danced pretty stupidly before.

But it feels good, I immediately felt thankful to everyone who's helped me, without my parents I wouldn't be so privileged to be in this position, they worked for this, not me. I did as always the bare minimum but with some energy. But I owe them an awful lot and I can only hope I repay them, or at least do the same for my kids. That goes for the rest of my family, my nans, my brother and his wife. They collectively have looked after me and brought me up, recently in particular.

Pog, who referred me, told me all I needed to know and relaxed me when I wasn't sure. As did many. Harry, who I tend to turn to when I know my worries are ridiculous, yet they still wash over me. Mainly cause I know he suffers the same worries. And anyone who has listened to me worry, or talk at them about myself or my ideas to clear my own head. Which is alot. Thank you.

I'm making it sound like I've won an Oscar but honestly it feels damn good and I just feel thankful.

My mind has also been flooding with plans and places to go. I've taken a step forward and it could go anywhere.

But for tomorrow Brazil and I will both celebrate our freedom. Saude!

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I got it.

Although I now have a mock lesson on Friday morning which is being drummed up as just as much of an interview, maybe even more. But my foot is in the door. I've bought the props, including a super hero dog, any name suggestions would be great.

Although in the demo video, there is an alternate version to the song "Baby Shark" about monkeys which I believe I will be hearing and dancing to EVERY day for 6 months. Not sure what I've got myself into.

But it's what I wanted and will allow me to continue to live here. Today I have been dancing around the flat and as a matter of fact, as I move around the town. I'm in a rhythm. Berty, I'm looking forward to throwback thursday tomorrow!

I've found myself enjoying lots of little things more and laughing to myself of past memories (Berty introducing himself as cheese to our Italian relatives) or things that I see occurring in the street. I've been watching lots of pigeons and their behaviours, weirdly,

I love it when they think they've got a big bit of bread and are well happy, only to run off and try and bite it, drop it before another pesky pigeon snatches it and thus continues the cycle. They are the same the world over.

But this whole day became a great day, from the wake up with motive, through the online training, with the help of the coffee, and onto the afternoon. I went flat hunting and if I wasn't so worried about disappointing people I would consider it as a hobby. You meet some absolute characters, visit their house as if on an episode of cribs and they treat you to coffee and the like. As I write this All Saints - Black Coffee plays, please listen to it, its amazing.

I began in the student area, what a guy, the front-runner, living with 3 brazilian dudes in a belter of a room in a pretty cool area close to both the center and the beaches. Just need to plug into his internet. He may appear later in the stories.

The second one I sought out as he was near a golf course I have my eye on. Little did I know it's also across from a favela. Not again. But I steered the course round and to the flat. Amazing living room with two incredibly friendly and attention seeking dogs. The best bit! I felt less like renting every time he removed them from the room. It had a router, an Xbox in the room (couldn't see any games) and a view of, yes, the favela. But in trying to show me the internet he fudged things up on it quite a bit and almost keeping me captive until he could fix it, despite his wife having sent me the speedtest already. Not to fear dude, was never gunna get it once I walked out the station.

The last one was just past a mall and Olympic building clearly built for tourists and Olympians alike. It smelt and felt of Downtown Disney, very clean, a stark contrast to the surroundings of the last house, which got me thinking a hell of a lot politically. But there is no time for that now, back to the guy. He was a weirdly lovely guy, albeit he would continue to tell me sad stories; of heart attacks, Spanish men beating his mum and how he is struggling to keep the apartment. He seemed to fear the outside world a fair bit. I almost wanted to rent it just for him but the room wasn't ideal and no visitors allowed, it just didn't seem the vibe I'm looking for. I'm sorry my dude, I hope you find your renter.

One more to see this weekend.

I returned back on a metro which had a different occurence in between each stop. Quite a ride. Buskers lightening the mood, beautiful girls standing for older ladies. A lady laughing with me in Portuguese as she followed me to the center of the cabin to make way for others and then realising I would have to bustle through for the next 2 stop. Queue the larger ladies entering at the next stop, but I made it off. It was a really pleasant trip despite the busy-ness. The commuters actually talked, not everyone, but there were many conversations up and down the cabin. It felt good to be around.

I hope this mindset continues. Just to get through this next bit and settle into the job and the apartment and I can release many of my thoughts about my own path and continue to enjoy whats going on around me instead.

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But my attention has turned elsewhere to building a base. I returned to Ipanema to begin laying down some foundations. I had a 3 step plan that seemed so easy.

1. Get a Laptop
2. Rent a place
3. Get a job

As advised the visa was always going to be difficult, and although people do seem to work on tourist visas under the table or even having met a few illegal immigrants, it appears it can be done. But it doesn't really seem legit so I've decided to follow my good friend Poggo and teach online from here to kids in China where the market is and the pay is good. Particularly as the Brazilian currency is still dropping.

It all seemed so easy, simple to do and was flowing into position so perfectly yet with the pace of the Brazilians, one small step at a time. I stumbled into a place I could get for a month for a mere £150 with a double bed, desk, TV in a clean flat with some other young people. This is day 1 here. I also bought the laptop on the same day and had applied online. I had received my interview date as Sunday. I'd checked the internet in the place. It was the easiest thing in the world. All the steps occurring naturally and together.

Until I reread the email and the upload speed here does not quite reach the minimum speeds required to teach. Bollocks. I should have been chilled going to bed with a smile on my face dreaming of hammocks and beach football. I had found a place to lay my head, watched films and eat pizza before my life begins. Of course it was not gunna be that simple. Classic

Instead it became quite the opposite, turning into a mini negative spiral, figuring out a plan to make it through the interview elsewhere, devising several back up plans due to inevitable plot twists all the while listening to a backing track of worries about missing or messing up this opportunity. It still might require that but for now I have decided to take a step back. I'm rescheduling my interview.

If I had made it through the interview, I'm then in a position of trying to blag my way through training and working whilst looking for a better place all at a million miles an hour trusting in the internet that got me into this sitch. Fuck that, have I not learned anything from these guys? Take it slow, its all good, tudo bem, hakuna matata

What this "too good to be true" room has done though is give me more time and allow me to hopefully build a stronger base whilst premier league football and movies keep me entertained. It was too good to be true but also too good not to take, and true, some of the others had better internet but they were inhabitable, damp and just shitty, even by my standards of living.

A friend who has lived abroad told me to be patient, it takes time, 3 days ago I was scoffing at this thought, I had several lined up and one I'd claimed, but now I come back tail between my legs, wiser and less naive about the whole thing.

So on I go, first real hurdle, I initially reacted fairly badly and was stressing a bit but pulled myself together with a little help from a few friends who help you see it clearly and for the small hiccup it is. As Harry reminded me this comes with the nature of just heading down South in pursuit of work, its not all gunna go perfectly, and whereas an hour ago this was the perfect life and I must have it, I've realised if it doesn't work out, I'll just be heading down another path. No biggie, I'm actually pretty peaceful about it all and it helps me gain perspective that if this is the biggest worry in my life, I'm ridiculously lucky.

I'll continue to house hunt and in the meantime just be slightly more frugal. By going to the beach, or reading books in hammocks, or watching films with pizza. I think I can handle that.

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Before I begin, a very happy birthday to Holly Ciuffini, My amazing sister in law who I hope has had the best weekend down in Wales topping off what is a well deserved summer!

I didn't plan to post this much but now its just on a when I would like to discuss something/share something I've loved.

I left off to Lapa to go have a party weekend. It was just what I needed, time to enjoy Rio without always thinking of the next step, take my mind off it. Although it was socially hectic.

As discussed the Friday was a cracker, then everyone proceeded to leave.

Now in these kind of hostels from my point of view and it seems a lot of those of whom I discuss it with, can be a lot of effort to constantly be social with new people. Lots of, what is coined, the travellers chat.

"How long you here for?"

"Where have you been?"

"This time I was with the poor people in Bolivia..."

Yada yada yada, I am also guilty of this, for sure (another traveller phrased I've noticed and adopted). Its necessary to a point, first meetings, first things to discover things in common or not in common as it may be. But the point is doing this every night can be draining, although it almost always leads to great friendships and lots of booze filled shenanigans (my favourite) and actually some of the stories are incredible and inspire you to follow their footsteps.

But after going through this on Friday, having a ball with many great people, the majority left and I found myself on Saturday dreading heading downstairs to go through it all again, I'd just made friends! For me its daunting but I also know that it's always fine and actually the best things happen when you jump out of your comfort zone. Everyone's in the same boat and mostly all good people looking for a laugh.

I made myself go down, found a familiar face, discussed his ridiculous night with two of his fellow irishmen and it just flowed from there. All anxieties washed away, people came and went, and it was a more chilled vibe to begin with which built up nicely to our samba night. This time there was dancing and I just find myself falling in love with the culture more and more with every day.

Myself and a girl jumped straight in and began to try emulate their dancing ability. I don't think we did bad actually, it was so much fun. If I ever got asked to do strictly I would take it immediately, as I'm sure mum will be more glad to hear than all of yesterdays post.

Upon return to the dance floor they had created a circle of which people jumped in and out with such good synchronicity that we wondered if they perhaps knew each other and this was almost a show. It seemed only 2 or 3 people in at a time max and if someone jumped in another would leave in the same beat and it just flowed perfectly. Their rhythm was a joy to watch, it had the feel of a tribal ritual around a campfire mixed with fermented sugar drinks. Everyone was just having the best time including myself and the lovely Scottish lady I spent the evening with.

I just find it crazy the contrast between my almost bodily fear of socialising or stepping out of my comfort zone and then what actually happens when I do. I would have thought my body had figured it out by now, my brain has but it has to battle to take that initial jump.

That being said I'm now happy to retire back to the hostel in Ipanema where I have spoke very little to anybody this evening and have just relaxed, ready to begin my attempts to lay down a few roots, however loose. This will return to a slower pace and less updates.

Walking around, the next step seems so clear and has such potential that this time my bodily response was filled with overwhelming excitement rather than apprehension.

This weekend was exactly what I needed.

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This did nothing to ruin the day, in truth I barely cared as it was almost an inevitable at some point, just happened a bit earlier than expected. But the day flowed nicely, a large group of us chilling at the beach in the afternoon, to an attempted hike leading to a successful beer at a bar just atop of a pacified favela. The view was stunning, will post when I get it off a guy who I can only describe as the Fresh Prince himself, with his own Carlton to match.

I did say to mum I was not planning to go a favela and I wasn't but things happened and it was well policed. I also failed you again this morning, sorry mum. An English school owner I had reached out to noticed I'd coached football and suggested meeting to check out a project hes looking to do, in another pacified favela.

So I arrived 10 minutes late to the station, which is pretty on time by Brazil standards I gather, and met with local graffiti artist Landreas who lives there. He walked up with us as they discussed ideas in Portugues. Landreas had reached out to street football companies in London to gain help for their community and this had been passed on. I later theorised I was probably brought to appear as a football coach with no real job possibility, but I got some very helpful advice and enjoyed an interesting experience.

Walking up was an inner battle between wtf am I doing and It'll be fine, and I'm glad I went because it obviously was. The artist was clearly a popular guy in his favela and everyone we met greeted us with warmth and joviality. The group we went to the football 'pitch' with were a fantastic group of guys.

Elvis - the pillar of the community, showing us around, to the church, the pitches and the nursery - who have a better football pitch than the community, clearly they start em young here.

Landreas - the graffiti artist from the favela, need I say more

Mattheus - the cheeky chappy making jokes at everyone we pass, shouting to the women in what I can only assume was cat calling and trying to involve me with lots of hand gesture translation.

These were just normal guys looking to help out their community, yielding to their wife's beckons and just get on with their life. I immediately felt relaxed and spent most of my thoughts on trying to decipher what they were discussing rather than fantasising about drive-bys and stabbings as per the walk up.

On the way down and after a coffee and advice from the English teacher I left in a positive mood with prospects of an apartment. So I celebrated with a cerveja watching the arsenal game feeling good about the move. But the combination of last nights alcohol, the stuffy metro, the earlyish morning, lots of departures from the hostel and the annoyance of the phone debacle were sinking in and I went for one of my self degrading naps. I woke up very confused as to why I'm in Brazil but the groggyness soon wore off and I've stabilised. Possibly to do it all again.

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Before I begin, I have been measuring my Portugues based on communication with taxi drivers. Not a great yard stick I know cause its dependent on their personality and knowledge of English but each time I am understanding more and more and we can have longer conversations. This guy was a big Vasco de Gama fan telling me of past successes, Juninho Pernambucano and his famous free kick, Coutinho, who I later discovered only played 19 games whilst on loan, and how they rinse flamengo for not having estadio. Showing me videos on his phone whilst driving and filming me giving shit to his Flamengo friends which enthused him massively.

Well I'm sorry to Flamengo fans and I'm glad they don't have a stadium, because they play in the Maracana and the atmosphere there last night was the greatest thing I've ever seen. The estadio was full of fans in red and black, minus the quarter for away fans, and they did not stop singing, the whole game. We were stood close to the group of fans leading it and I say stood because the whole crowd was stood up, more peoples feets were on seats than were peoples asses.

3 photos from this gallery weren’t in the backup.

The game was alright, 3rd postion Flamengo dominating against 3rd from bottom, as the Irish lad next to me exclaimed - the equivalent of Man United vs Derby. But the fans made it seem as if it was a champions league semi. Backed by the beat of a samba esque drum who kept in rhythm for the whole game, only silent for half time and the first 3 minutes of the second half. He would occasionally slow the pace as the crowd built until a faster beat began prompting the crowd to release all their energy in loud chants of Flamengo along with a slow arm throw. We all became very caught up in it. Beers were about £1.60 and delivered to the seats like popcorn sellers. Amazing

They won 1-0 and I don't think I could've handled more goals, the whole 90 minutes being very intense.

On the way down they did not walk down, huddled up, scurrying to go, but danced and sang almost as a collective unit. With the drumming.

My pockets were shit so I held my phone and wallet in my hand tightly, a danish guy we were with had had his phone pickpocketed on the way in. So holding it seemed a good idea, but a guy flew past, tried to grab them out my hand on the way through. He did not succeed gave me a scared look and continued to bustle through. Maybe stupid but also worked, so I feel validated. Although I then wrapped it up in the vest I was swinging round with the other hand, a much safer idea.

It was honestly the best atmosphere I've ever seen at a football game and sorry dad but I now love the drums in the stadium and will debate this with you forever. The whole game was a rhythmic dance and the Maracana will go down as the best club I've been to. Anywhere.

Flamengo Chants

5 photos from this gallery weren’t in the backup.

Joga Bonito

for those of you familiar with the phrase or the adverts from the noughties, its 3 v 3, first to two goals in a winner stays on format. It seems the rules are:

1. anyone can play although not if you've been on too recently
2. shoes are not required but any shoe is accepted, one gentleman opting for one shoe on, one shoe off.
3. go in hard but not too hard, if anyone fell over it was deemed too hard, although there was no diving
4. do not get megged or skinned

In the case of the latter you'd become subjected to the crowd whooping and hollering and laughing at you. it better not result in a goal.

The ball stayed on the floor for pretty much the whole time unless a player was trying to flick it over or round you, and the ball control these guys had in work boots was unbelievable. Their movement, quick passing and racy flicks showcased the real Brazilian flair we've come to know. Three players in particularly stood out.

One shoe - who's tactic was clearly thought out as at a moments notice his bare foot toepoke could pwn the ball through the smallest of gaps into the miniature goal

Blake Griffin - a late arrival, sporting ripped overalls, but was nothing short of a magician with the ball at his boots.

And the Monster - a huge guy who was strong, smart and could do anything with the ball at his feet, he controlled and dominated most games and appeared rather frequently. Although I would not be one to tell him no.

I don't know if this a daily, weekly or impromptu occurrence but I could have wasted the whole day there, the football was mesmerising, there were characters apparent and all around everyone seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it. Businessmen watching on, tourists videoing and taking pictures. Friends and family shouting and cheering, and salesmen selling acai and ice cream nearby (although I seemed to be the only sucker to bite).

Brazil seems to be in economic decline at the moment and it could be due to these lengthy lunch breaks, the fact everyone seems to spend their time in coffee shops or an actual reason that I cant understand, but sat watching the workers in this arena has been my favourite moment so far. And my money is going further every day. So keep up the good work breaks!

This does however mean work and visas are less likely and work may not be legit. I still don't know what I'm doing but that's fine. I could volunteer on a paradise beach for a few months, look for work elsewhere, hell I may even just chill it for a few months and do a ski season. I still don't know but I'm feeling more relaxed about it and know there are many opportunities, ill just see where the wind takes me.

As my mum said to me today quoting Winnie the pooh, who has the best way of life imo,

"doing nothing always leads to the very best something"

Well I feel ya pooh and now I'm moving hostels to go enjoy the weekend. I am in Rio after all.

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As you can see, I've already learned lots of Portuguese. On the first taxi ride I realised I'm going to struggle to communicate, the bits I've learned from Duolingo helped very little. There were 0 cats reading newspapers.

Since then I've already come along way, my most recent taxi ride involving several discussions including him explaining his higher tariffs. Thanks to all the natives at the hostel I picked up many useful and some not so useful phrases but have been able to communicate and make myself understood. One worker telling me I talk too much. Shock

But its been tough, very much a baptism of fire (a phrase I have enjoyed recently), being thrown in at the deep end to speak Portuguese almost constantly, writing things down and even in my chill time trying to learn. Its a constant stress to not only socialise in the hostel but in an alien language. I guess this is what I signed up for though and my favourite times so far have not been the beautiful beaches or the many cervejas but have been learning the language from the locals and reciprocating lessons back.

I still get waves of anxiousness matched by waves of happy disbelief, but now becoming mixed with times of comfort, and of awkwardness. I feel it in a flux, a struggle to get out of bed in the morning accompanied by facebook and instagram scrolling before buzzfeed posts about tumblr laughing me into positivity to start the day.

This gets a Mario kart esque boost from a coffee and breakfast which leads to a feeling of happy shivers alongside contentment (usually at the beach, today with added beach football) fuelling me through the afternoon of socialising before I crash either into a nap or a period of self deprecation or both.

Today that involved heading up to Christ the Redeemer on a whim, however when at the top I was ironically feeling kinda low. This did nothing to take away from the vast views which were beyond stunning. Llow the statue, Christ is alright but the views around it should be deemed the redeemer. Things changed though as I had another coffee at the top and wrote in my personal diary. It cleared out my head of things I guess I've struggled to communicate here and at home which was perhaps the inspiration for this 'blog'.

I came down on a bit of a buzz and chilled to write this alongside a beer, knowing what I have to do, to keep moving forward. To now move onto what I came here to do. Find a place I like, find people I belong with and settle into it.

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I keep thinking to myself why the fuck am I here. In both a positive and negative way. What am I doing in a foreign country with no idea how to speak Portuguese and no idea what I'm going to do. This briefly scares me and I wonder if I made a good decision.

The flipside is "I cant believe I'm here in Rio De Janeiro with no idea what I'm going to do, but I could do anything from here" and that is far more exciting. These thoughts and feeling come and go in waves. Much like the beaches I sit on ;)

This trip for me is about having that freedom, back home due to nobody's fault I felt like I wasn't moving forward, I wasn't happy and had no idea what to do. If I feel confused and indecisive I may as well be on the beaches of Copacabana and Ipanema, and see where it takes me.

I've decided to write this because I don't know where it might lead and I want to share this with those I love and like along with pictures. I also wish to be brutally honest about everything, how I'm feeling, what I'm thinking and my experiences along the way. There will be times when I'm feeling low and lonely and wish to pack it in and come home, more than anything this may be a therapy for me. There will also be times of extreme happiness and pleasure which I wish to share with you, I hope more of the latter.
There is two sides to travelling and living abroad as with all walks of life and I wish not to just share the great views and places I visit but also the thoughts and feelings I experience within this. I feel like I cannot do that in pictures alone and I don't want to create a facade that I'm living the high life when I'm not. I want to share honestly how I'm doing with y'all. For better or for worse.

I hope you enjoy

Cause sometimes my words wont do it

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