Lexi & His Friends

My housemate Alex seems to have a way with the Brazilian men.
If getting hit on in the car on the way home from a club by a man who "just split up with his girlfriend" wasn't bad enough, it seems that walking back causes even more problems.

After a night at the weekly University party, Lexi and I decided to take a pleasant stroll home. Neither of us knew that the nice Brazilian men we bumped into on the way back were actually after more than a bit of English practice.
After engaging in a conversation with the seemingly lovely chaps for about 15 minutes, their ulterior motive became clear when they stated, "In fact, we are looking for people to have a three-some with...".

Awkward silence.

Move away from the strange men.

A Raunchy Rendezvous In Rio

The men I encountered in Rio are the most forward that I have ever come across.
Not only will they shout things at you across a busy road (very embarrassing), but they will whisper things to you as you casually stroll past them with your family.
Whether they be umbrella-sellers or Police Officers, you will no doubt be given the eye by a Carioca or two.

In the awards for the strangest man in Rio, we have three nominations, and unfortunately i'm not sure I could possibly choose between them.

Our first candidate is a simple subway-traveller. In fact, he didn't have to do a lot to warrant his nomination. All he had to do was stare consistently at my sister and me for 20 minutes, with a VERY creepy smile on his face. We agreed that he was probably thinking about how he would like to murder us and then chop up our bodies.
When I say stare, I mean really, actually staring. And his armpits were very sweaty; the liquid outline on his shirt went all the way down to his elbow. Lovely.

Nomination number two goes to an enforcer of law. Aka, a Police Officer. Who is probably the worst Police Officer in the whole of Brazil as he felt it necessary to impress us by showing off his "secret documents" in his leather folder. And his badge. And his ID card. And telling us about his latest 'task'.
This would have perhaps been enough in itself to gain a place in my top 3, but no; Mr Policeman had even more "quirky" ideas. Despite being told 40 times that my sister does NOT speak Portuguese, he insisted on continually talking to her about his life. Only getting a confused smile in return did not dissuade him from talking at her.
And finally, the most IRRITATING part about this encounter was the fact that I had JUST got my food and was REALLY REALLY hungry. Instead I had to sit there, too polite to tell him to go and fight crime, whilst my food rapidly went from hot to luke-warm to very frio. Not even twirling my rice around with my spoon gave him the hint.
Eventually, he left.
It was short-lived however, as he returned 5 minutes later to briskly remind us that "normally English girls are ugly, but you two are beautiful", and then departed for good.
Hmm.

Strange man number 3.
Now, there is nothing wrong with a little bit of entertainment in the streets of Rio.
In fact, if i'm ever struggling with my teaching career, I think it may be the next step for me.
However, there is a thin line between a pleasant street-act, and a paedophile.
With a watching crowd of about 100, it's quite strange that this man even noticed us walking past. Despite my sister quietly hissing "quick, run, he's seen us!", it was too late.
Leaving his concrete-stage, the man with a painted white face and strange gloves ran after us down the road. All spectators were watching in a tense silence.
And what did he do? After a rather gentlemanly attempt to kiss our hands, he slobbered on my sister's face. Despite her denial, we all saw it, and the erupted laughter of the crowd confirmed what had just happened.
My sister is 15, this is very wrong.

Who needs Sexual Harassers when you have FRIENDS?!

Normally, it is general etiquette for your male friends to help you out when slightly drunk people of the masculin variety come and harass you.
Unfortunately, this is not always the case.
What could make issues worse when 3 Brazilian men are calling you Pamela Anderson and chasing you down the street?
Ah yes, when your friends Simon and Gio say that you ARE infact Pamela Anderson, and offer to SELL you to them. For R$20.
(R$20 is about £7.85.. Very sweet.)

A gift, wrapped in a napkin and a straw.

Once upon a time (way back in December), it was almost time to leave Brazil for a snowy English Christmas.
To celebrate my leaving, we headed to CSC; the most celebrated cheesey-chip venue on the Island.
As we were innocently sitting there (Gio, Betinha, Massimo and I), munching on our kebabs and whatnot, the waiter came over with a small parcel. It was cuboid, and expertly wrapped with a napkin and a straw. He placed it down infront of me, explaining that it was a 'gift' from 'the man over there'.
I think it's fair to say that we were all slightly confused, just staring down at the napkinned object on the table.
All of a sudden, it began to light up and shimmy across the table. In fact, as it turned out, the mysterious object was a phone.
I pulled off the wrapping, and, after one quick glance at the older man sat staring at me with a phone pressed to his ear (ignoring Beth's suggestion of answering it!) I got up from my seat.
Walking across the room in slow motion (ha).. I couldn't help thinking, surely this stuff doesn't actually happen in real life?! Do these people EXIST?!
The old man (in Nike Shox, I must add) stood up, and putting his phone in his pocked, DEMANDED of me: "Why didn't you answer?" (Brazilian accent with a hint of American slipping in somewhere)
"Why would I answer the phone when you're sitting over here?" I queried, handing the Motorola back to him.
"Well, can I have your number?"
"I cannot believe you ACTUALLY sent a phone disguised as a present over to our table. Does that normally work for you?"
"Come on, your number please?"
To be fair to him, A+ for effort. Gio was at least very impressed with his mad-head creativity!

(p.s: Generally in Brazil, it seems easier just to give them your number. If you don't give it to them, they won't stop asking. If you give them a fake one, it will bite you in the bum when they ring you 2 seconds after saving it. Just don't answer your phone!)

My first Canadian encounter

Please study the following quotes:

"It's like a total EXPLOSION OF THE BRAIN dude",
"Come on, I totally f***ing ROCK the PHAT BUS journeys in Florianopolis",
"It's all about the vibe man, life's all about the vibe", and
"Your clothes totally rock that Bambi shit, that's what you went for right? Red is the colour of innocence and your dress is the colour of a deer".

No, these sentences are not fictional as one might (hope to) think, but actually left the mouth of a real-life male specimen. Amazing.

Mr Photo

Sharing a taxi with random boys that you have never met before is always going to end in trouble. Squeezing in one extra person will undoubtably exacerbate this; ensuring that one of you is rubbing against the creep sat with you in the back. But, with a shortage of taxis and a very late trio of girls, this cannot be helped.
However, weird conversation was not the extent of this taxi ride's story. The real strangeness began when it turned out that the back-seat chap was in fact taking photos of us.
Very creepy photos. Photos that were being taken even as the taxi had pulled up, and the photo-taker himself had got out. In fact, as we continued talking to the taxi driver and passenger, we looked to the right and.. There he was, Mr Photo, taking snaps of us through the window.
Oh well, I suppose we might as well smile now that we've seen him doing it.

Lesbian? Swinger? Three-some?

Strangely enough, our next subject isn't a boy. It was still pretty weird anyway.
Walking through Lagoa with Priya and Simi, we were accosted by a couple. The woman, seeming quite forward, asked us where we were going (a friend's party), and if we'd meet up with them after it was finished, (“Errr yeah, why not?”). Admittedly, had this been a boy, or even a lone woman, it wouldn't have seemed so bizarre. Yet, she was holding the hand of, we assumed, her boyfriend. And he was looking on at the conversation, with a creepy grin on his face.
After walking away, we couldn't help thinking.. Lesbian who holds hands with boys, swingers, or three-some?

Taxi Driver 2

Taxi driver number 2 (we'll call him Roger), completely takes the biscuit. After making me sit in the front because he “doesn't like talking to someone behind him”, I should have probably realised that he was slightly mad. Alas, I was naïve.
The usual “do you have a boyfriend?” chat cropped up, and when I replied affirmative, he responded “oh well, he's not here is he?”. Ha.
Finally we arrived at my destination, and despite reasonably strange conversation, I was relieved that it had ended in little drama. However, it seemed that the strangeness was not over quite yet.
Roger insisted that until I gave him a kiss, he wouldn't unlock the door and let me out. Remaining calm, I politely declined. Unfortunately, this wasn't enough for Olde Rog'. Taking matters into his own hands, he proceeded to grab my face and lick my mouth.
Absolutely disgusting.
Unlocking the door, I hastily jumped out with my 30 bags of Havaianas, keen on getting away and washing my face asap.
And I still paid him. Maybe i'm the mad one!

Taxi Driver 1

This is the first of what I imagine will be many taxi driver stories. Yes, many may ask for phone numbers/Facebook names on occasion, yet there are sometimes those that push the boundaries of general taxi driver madness.
Mr Taxi, let's call him Fernando, was extremely friendly as soon as I got in his car. He was chatty, interested, and let me stop off at the cash machine for some dollar (quite rare in Floripa!). However, I realised something wasn't right when he asked me for the 4th time if I had a boyfriend. You see, from experience, i've learnt that often it's better just to say yes, even if it isn't the case. But Fernando just wouldn't drop it. He was trying to convince me that he himself would make a better boyfriend. This was, mysteriously, in-between constant phone calls from his girlfriend. It wasn't until we picked up my friends, both male, that he stopped talking about it. In fact, he stopped talking at all. I think I would go as far as to say that he seemed angry with me. Like i'd broken his heart. Sorry Fernando!

3 drunken men and a mountain

Three very drunk 30 year old men and a car. Bad idea. Especially in Lagoa.
Some might say that it is my own fault that I was in this situation. And they would most probably be right. But, as a tired, drunk and lazy girl, when offered a trip in a car (when the journey would take 3 hours to walk), it's hard to say no. Even when the driver is a stranger that is completely off his face, accompanied by his equally drunk yet slightly madder amigos.
Now, obviously it wasn't a deathly car journey, as i'm still alive. However, it was like a scene that you would see at the movies and never believe; a mad, alcohol-fuelled journey de voiture.
To get from Lagoa to Carvoeira, one has to drive over a mountain. With a complete drunkard on the wheel, this proved to be quite difficult. So, the English girl without the driving license had to be responsible for the steering-wheel of the car. I must admit that nearly crashing 4 times almost made me regret my lazy choice of transport home!
I really thought that I might die. So, just to be on the safe side, I texted my best friend to let him know the situation, and asked him to ring me in ten. “If I don't answer, i'm dead.”.
After eventually reaching the other side of the mountain unscathed, the driver then decided to stare at me instead of the road. “Very good, PLEASE LOOK WHERE YOU'RE GOING!”
Despite my laziness, I was all of a sudden hit by a survival instinct, and asked.. Please, just drop me off here? Yes yes, just take my number! Of course i'll go to lunch tomorrow(?). Thank you. Good night.
Walking the rest of the way with my legs shaking and a ringing phone, I couldn't even be bothered to gaze in wonderment at a snail on the pavement that was the same size as my foot. (Though I did take a photo).

Bless you Rodrigo, you devil

Rodrigo. Now, don't get me wrong, I actually think this guy is amazing, and had it not been for this particular incident, he wouldn't be featuring in this blog. But, declaring “I'm an angel on the outside but a DEVIL ON THE INSIDE!!!” whilst pretending to rip open your head-to-toe white outfit to reveal your black boxers, is just very strange.

Not even able to blame alcohol..

Rafael. Poor, love-struck Rafael.
It is always a shock when someone declares their love for you as you are walking down a drive-way. It is even stranger when you have never met the fellow before, and he seems to be sober. Despite many attempts of distraction; “That girl's very pretty – go and talk to her!”, it seemed that he wouldn't let me leave without giving him my extremely simple Brazilian phone number (99599777, wonderful). Apparently, i'm the girl for him.
The next morning; “You have 27 missed calls”. Go away Rafael, I was just being polite.