Something interesting about the rice at Christmas time here; they put raisins in it! Reminds me of Persian Adas Polo..Mmmm
Brazilian 'Holiday' Rice
At midnight, we watched the neighbourhood light up with amateur fireworks from the surrounding houses. I was also wearing a new white dress which Guillaume had bought me, according to the Brazilian New Years tradition. But strangely, as you can see, I, the foreigner, was the only one doing so.
Something that would be very illegal in Australia.
New Brazilian Family hehehe.
But moving right along: after the potential in-laws Guillaume's relatives went home after midnight, his aunt asked us to 'go and wish a Happy New Year' to her neighbours. So we go. Before we even arrive at their gate we can heard their music blasting down the street. We walk past their barbecue, into the living room to greet them. Coloured disco lights flashing all over the walls, and a six-year-old fast asleep next to a stereo blasting Bob Marley. Did the kid even notice that we walked in? It's hard to hear anything over that stereo! The dad offers us beers, constantly pointing to our drinks and asking 'Acabou? Acabou?' and then racing to the fridge. He shows us some CDs, and complains about the shallowness of popular Brazilian music. Funk?! Sertanejo?! Exaltasamba?! Brazilians have no music culture these days! We nod our heads. Guillaume mentions that he kind of likes soul. Our host puts several piles of his soul collection onto Guillaume's lap and demands that he take them home to burn them onto his computer. 'Ele ama soul, cara!' he shouts to his wife, he loves soul, duuude! The six-year-old, Pedro, wakes up. Guillherme, Guilherme ! (The Brazilian version of Guillaume's name.) 'É sua namorada? Qual o nome dela?!', he tugs on Guillaume's arm, is that your girlfriend? What's her name?! He bobs his head to the music. His father puts another pile of CDs into Guillaume's lap, you'll love these ones! How we manage to hear what he says over the music, nobody knows. Actually, I don't understand that much of it at all, but over the past 5 months here and various experiences with foreign languages, I have perfected my Feigned-Understanding-Of-The-conversation- Face. A late night...
The next morning we spent watching DVDs of old concerts from the seventies with Amelia, Guillaume's aunt, before returning to the neighbours' again 'for lunch'...
You know it...reggae blasting, meat on the barbecue, Pedro yanking at our sleeves and checking with Guillaume to see if I am, indeed, his girlfriend. His little two-year-old sister is intently ripping up paper out of a notebook and spilling ink on the floor and rejecting any distracting visitors trying to kiss her on the cheek, as if to say, can't you see that I am busy here?! Pedro calls me linda and decides that I should be his girlfriend instead. Then he asks me what my name is again. His father realises that I am Australian. Um francês e uma australiana na minha casa no ano novo, cara! A french guy and an australian girl in my house on New Years, duuude! He sings a song from the Lion King and insists that it is Australian. He asks me about kangaroos and praises the film Australia.We get forced-drunk and dance to reggae music for seven hours, during which, the father intermittently explains to Guillaume how to use his music program. Sometimes, the music stops for 5 seconds because Guillaume has been briefly distracted. Pedro appears distressed in such moments, 'Bobby acabou!', he cries, Bob (Marley) stopped! I notice that Brazilian parties do not appear to have an ending time. I complain to Guillaume, 'I can't party anymore!' We go home one beer and one hour later and burn more CDs from our new friends.
An interesting day (and night). I hadn't expected my New Years in Brazil to be a reggae-fest. It was nice, I discovered my inner reggueira. Guillaume's relatives and their neighbours were very welcoming.
Me and Pedro
'Seja minha namorada! Qual seu nome?'
See? See?
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