A cloud of sweet ganja fug passed by as I waited to collect my bag from the hold and so I inhaled deeply and that was all I needed during a four night stay right next to that bus station - alive all day and across the night - where I had a steak, egg and chips breakfast (there would be many of these, it's the Brazilian equivalent of an English breakfast) before venturing over to the hotel where I found an airline crew checking out, the captain in his late 50s looking weary, worldly-wise and well-fed, brightly made-up stewardesses at his side on long legs and heels, attended to by a very cute and curly-haired receptionist, ringlets jiggling as she spoke like an American with split coconut smile who kindly let me check in at 9.30am, and after a night on the bus then a swim on a steamy rooftop I went straight to bed and when I woke in early afternoon it was raining again and wouldn't really stop for another two weeks. Nb. it's still going strong.
Around about 4pm I had, with a four hour time difference, the unusual experience of watching Champion's League football being played on a European evening. Unfortunately the restaurant chose Bate Borisov versus Barcelona "only because Neymar is playing" a waiter told me. "I hate Neymar," he added. "Why's that?" "He's an asshole man."
Damn! Arsenal beat Bayern that same night and all I got to see were the goals.
When I went in to pay the big round black lady, considering me with big arms on counter, a big round face, and a big round mouth, she gave me a big round "ola" and a big round smile, looking as I'd imagine the cook in Tom and Jerry to look like if you ever saw her face.
Up the street, as I made my way round potholes and smashed cement, amazed by the number of pharmacies and washing machine stores, a beautiful tall leggy blonde passed by and in a strong Australian accent said to the man at her side, "I am never doing that again. You tell him - I will never do that AGAIN!" and I spent most of the journey home wondering what on earth he had wanted her to do.
On the final day, rain intermittent, I took a commuter ferry over Duck Lagoon to the small town of Guaiba and walked in drizzle up a hill into the residential quarter to watch from under a huge tree in a small park local ladies troop into church and throughout the trip I was continually amazed by the omnipresence of religion.
Worried about missing the last ferry back, I hurried to the dock but was stopped by the window display of a gun shop (see bottom right) and the low price of an automatic weapon: $220 with telescopic sight.
"Can I buy one?" I asked the salesman. "Sure," he answered. "Why not?"