The Quest for the Brazilian Model: Part 1
Rio de Janeiro Travel Blog› entry 2 of 16 › view all entries
June 14th, 2010 – by: allysim
Picking up from where from we left off, we got to Atlanta airport and after Kev got checked at customs for approximately the 20th time, we mulled over whether we had seen a girl in the queue who had the most perfect breasts in history. After a lot of deliberation and plenty of scientific reasoning we came to the conclusion that she was probably too young. After I argued that love knows no boundaries, Kev couldn´t believe there were 13 years between my parents.
The flight was largely uneventful until we got to baggage reclaim and found that our bags had not arrived. We were sectioned into a queue and a lady came out and said our bags had already arrived on a previous flight and we had to go upstairs to collect them.
Please excuse the homosexuality of this next comment, but nothing can prepare you for how beautiful Rio is, it is without doubt the best city I have ever been to - so much better than Barcelona. We got to see it whilst tearing through the streets on a bus being driven by the Brazilian equivalent of Robert Wilson. We checked into Che Lagarto hostel in the heart of Ipanema and just when everything seemed to be going well, we went to the bank and Kev couldn´t get any money out. For those of you that are aware of how un-organised I am, Kev´s chaotic approach to life makes me look like an accountant.
Back to the hostel, we set about introducing ourselves to everyone, with my basic spanish and Kev´s one line of German that he knows. After Kev had expended ´Wo ist die Clown´ We went to a pub to watch the england game, and witnessed the moment that will surely lead to Robert Green´s knighting in next year´s additions to the british empire. Kev would also like to know why Nick Griffin is the manager of Serbia at this World Cup.
Later that night the party began and I introduced myself to some German girls who we spent most of the evening talking to. When I say most of the evening, I mean until 9:30 because that is when I had to retire to bed due to sleep depravation. Now I am aware I am going to get lambasted for this, but at precisely the time I went for a quick nap, Kev was talking to some english girls who wanted to go out.
After breakfast that morning we jammed about and went to the beach to take on some german guys at football - naturally it was Joga Bonito on mine and Kev´s behalves and we destroyed them at Heads and Volleys which had absolutely nothing to do with them not knowing the rules. Later on we went to the FIFA viewing stage for World Cup games to watch Germany V Australia.
After one of the German´s telling me my mum was shit at football, we bowled back to the hostel ready to tear it up in Rio. Kev decided he was going to skip dinner, informing some new girls that eating was in fact cheating. I had some food and was then introduced to the Capriniha (I think) which is the most aggressive drink ever invented and whilst it was ruining me, it was obliterating Kev who had about 8 in a row (Brits abroad?). We got ready to go after playing F*** the Dealer during which Kev spent most of the time being violated.
Unfortunately for Kev this club was unbelievable - a perfect little small sweatbox situated on the top of a hill with lots of drunk brazilian females grinding as if there lives depended on it. After having a dance with and frankly being violated by one of said girls I realised I was too drunk to fully operate and decided to get another beer. Because it was Sunday night the place closed at 2 but Finding Nemo said he had met a Brazilian (called Raphael) who knew where the party was so we sent the girls home and jumped in Raphaels Nissan Sunny and were cruising around Rio at about 400mph in the wrong lane. It became apparent the Raphael was so drunk he didn´t know where the party was and definitely shouldn´t have been driving. We managed to get ourselves out and returned to the hostel for sleep.
At the time of writing Kev says hello and I am still trying to erase the image waking up to find him asleep with no covers on with his hand down his boxers in our dorm, farting when he felt like it.
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