Typical day at the beach.
Welcome back to Samba country, I daresay I have missed our little conversations, but lets get straight into it. Following on from Kev playing with himself, we headed to the sea to further sculpt our beach bodies. Fortunately we picked the best spot, right next to where Rio empties its sewage into the Atlantic - on the way back to the hostel the discussion turned to what type of ´tan´ we had got from our days work.
Back at the hostel some new english gentlemen had arrived, fresh-faced from Cheltenham. We exchanged a few war stories about our respective trips and one stood out in particular. It would appear that Ed, a character you will inevitably hear more about as our trip progresses, had managed to tame some form of Wild Boar at a Favela party the previous night.
Mike and Alan, 2 of the aforementioned Chelmsford boys.
Ed informed us that it would have been a team effort to get her into the hostel and didn´t have Paul or Barry Chuckle´s phone numbers. Apparently her mating call consisted of bending over (in doing so, doubling in size) and putting her hand between her legs to tempt the little soldier into action. I should inform you that myself and Kevin are yet to encounter such wildlife on our excursions. Our drinking was temporarily interrupted by an introduction from who I think was Charles Manson himself, with blonde hair - picture Ollie Scott fused with Mick Hucknall. Triple H was determined to share stories, but as none of us could relate to chequered shirts, living in a bin bag or smelling of faeces, we found it quite difficult to interact.
After Alan walked headlong into the glass patio doors we were ready to cruise into town, and after crawling a few bars we interrupted what seemed to be some sort of cake based party.
Mike and Triple H.
With a black father christmas belting out the Brazilian National Anthem, a wife fresh from buyabride.com and old lady stroking my chin everytime I spoke to her, we set about stealing Lemon Cheesecake and Chocolate Bomb Pudding. Some enjoyed it more than others with Ed smearing half of it down his face, much to the Thai bride´s amusement. Meanwhile our resident Samba expert Kev (now referred t as Big Jim by everyone because of his resemblance to James Corden) was laying the foundations with Mike´s 19 year old cousin who happened to live in Rio. In a tight contest in which the whole venue watched the live final between Kev and Alan, Big Jim emerged victorious as the cousin´s preferred dance partner. Several mothers-to-be found themseleves going into labour amidst the excitement generated by Big Jim´s acceptance speech.
The Hostel in Buzios.
Luckily Kev didn´t stand there for 30 minutes waiting for a kiss that never came.
Again I have to reserve comment for some of the places we are visiting whilst we are out here, and Buzios
is one such destination. An absolute paradise, we headed there in the morning, although Mike found the going rough as his stomach hadn´t settled from the previous night and we fully expected Big Jim (who was sitting in front of him) to have a new hairstyle on arrival. Upon arriving we set about finding somewhere to watch the Brazil game - this wasn´t difficult as the whole of Brazil comes to a standstill when the football team play. After watching briefly in our hostel we cruised onto the street and found all of the town watching at one sports bar.
The view at sunset from our hostel bar.
In all seriousness, the atmosphere was amazing, with everyone painted up and down in national colours and supported by a large volume of samba drums. After a local man voluntarily informed us that if a girl looks old enough she probably is, we all felt a little uncomfortable and walked away from him as quickly as possible.
That night we headed into central Buzios and after some warm-ups and seeing a drunk motorbiker being pursued by local police, we headed to a local nightclub, which immediately annoyed bodybuiler Ed who commented ´some of the guys in here are so big it makes me want to go home´. We were quickly identified as english and approached by Queen Latifah and her American friends who set about introducing us to proper black dancing. After being put through a series of moves that were taken directly from Jenna Jameson´s last release, one of the girls took a liking to Alan.
View from our hostel balcony
Once Alan had finished getting on Venus Williams, we cruised back to the hostel and investigated a hoodie that Ed had bought for 189 reals before going out, and postulated over which type of glowstick you would have to attach to the arse of the girl Alan had just got on to be able to identify her in the dark.
Our last day in Buzios consisted of a boat ride around the most beautiful lagoon we had ever seen, and after a quick rendition of ´Big Ass, She dances in the Slums´ to remind Ed of the Favella girl (to which he replied with a statement of intent concerning brazilian twins) we boarded the boat and set about rubbing sun cream into each other. Upon being served and feeling that the barman on board was taking the p*** out of him, Ed ushered ´do you understand el overboardo, you prick´ which probably explained why he saw no change out of a 50 for 4 beers.
Confused Brazilians after Korea scored.
The boat stopped at various locations for a period of swimming, music and further alcohol and after sitting out the first swimming stop to work on my tan, I announced my intentions to enter the water with a forward flip. Naturally I completed this to the satisfaction of all judges, by bottling the flip at the last minute, hanging on to the rope by one hand and falling in head first. Intent on fulfilling the Brits abroad stereotype, Big Jim and Mike set about persuading the driver to let them steer the boat for a period. To the astonishment of passengers, the driver agreed and with all his years experience at sea, Kev took control. To say that boat started rocking from side to side would be an understatement, and despite Mike´s best vice-captaincy skills, one lady was sick overboard.
Kev making himself at home, with Alan's girl (not the first time that would happen this trip)
We headed back to Rio and went out that night, where Kev met what could only be described as the one. Unfortunately, at this stage I am unable to divulge any further information, due predominantly to him having added her as a friend on facebook. However I am able to provide accurate information to the Copacabana authorities as to precisely who was rolling around on the beach at 3am this morning...
Interestingly at the same time this was occuring, I had made a Brazilian lady friend and was discussing the merits of being British amongst other things whilst in the TV Room. At this point I would like to inform the tabloids that I have no intention of selling my story, however I will take questions at the end.
At the time of writing myself and Kev have just returned from a site seeing tour Rio, taking in Christ the Redeemer, Sugar Loaf Mountain, a 20,000 seater Church, the Rio Carnival Set and the Maracana.
Mike, Ed and Kev driving the boat.
This city is unbelievable and I suggest you take time to come and visit if you have the funds available. Possibly take some time over deciding whether to stay in a private hotel or a public hostel though otherwise you will be susceptible to the situation we encountered this morning. Some colombian kid in my room woke up and went to the toilet - the only thing was he was cruising around our room at full-mast. Now my favourite part of this is that he has sat up, and thought to himself ´hmmm everyone is asleep, I can probably get away with this´, and after poking his head through his overhanging towel he went for it. However someone did notice and he is now referred to throughout the whole hostel as boner boy without him knowing. Moral of the story? You don´t want this to be you.
Christ the Redeemer.
Will have further information about Kev as I am permitted to tell....
X O X O