Lysia and I spent a lot of the day looking for an ATM machine for me to take money out. Lysia had about $70 left, and I had exactly zero. My card wasn't working.
By the end of the day, Lysia had about $2. I finally got Chase to fix my card situation, but the ATM is a 20 minute walk uphill. We decided we'd go to Rio Vermelho, a neighborhood outside of the historic district with bars and clubs. We'd hail a taxi, have him drive us to an ATM, and then to dinner.
And then it starts pouring rain. Torrential. We try to wait it out. It's still pouring 40 minutes later. We ask the woman at the hotel for a recommendation close by, but it MUST take cards. She has a recommendation... Ulysses. The same name as the guy who tried to make out with me the night before. it was destiny. After we'd been waiting 40 minutes, and ther a in didn't lighten up, we asked how far away this restaurant is.
In broken English, she says "a minute and a half walking."
Why didn't we ask 40 minutes ago?
Ulysses is a non-descript restaurant, but the food was very nice. I ordered a moqueca de peixe, a Bahian coconut-palm oil-vinegar stew. It costs about USD20. The waiter tells me it is meant for two people, it's too much food. Meh, how often do i get to eat moqueca? I'll bring the extra to the hotel room. There was SO much food. I barely made a dent.
This couple we recognized from the hotel walked by and asked us what we were eating. They only arrived that day and didn't know anything about Brazilian food. I implored them to try it. The girl said "this is so strange, eating off a stranger's plate." Offering a stranger some food off my plate is something I wouldn't normally do at home, either, but when you're traveling it seems like the perfect thing to do.
Bellies full, it's about 11 at night. We're in a bit of a food coma, but it's too early to go to sleep. There's a bar that opened across the street from the hotel that hadn't been open the rest of the week. It looked very bohemian and cute. We figured if they took cards, we would have one more drink, and if not, we'd turn in. Lysia is convinced that if we tell them that we are at the hotel across the street, they'll extend us a little line of credit.
I ask the girl at the bar, and she doesn't take cards, but she tells me to go to the "black guy outside with the beard," and ask him if they're open every day. I guess it's some kind of private joke between them. His name is Flavio. I ask Flavio if they're open every day, and he gives me a song and a dance about how they're usually open this day and that (it's normal for bars and restaurants to be closed on a number of days of the week.) I tell Flavio we really like his bar, and we'll come back tomorrow, because our cards didn't work. Flavio says "no problem! I'll make you a drink!" Between Lysias balls and my shitty Portuguese, we now have a line of credit at the bar.
We walk through the crowd, a hip-looking 20-30 something group of brazilians. One is playing a ukelele. That's the price of a free drink. I have to listen to a fucking ukelele all night.
We look around... It's bushwick. We're totally in bushwick. There's some graffiti on the walls, the drinks are really cheap, most people are drinking Skol beer, which Lysia likens to PBR. There's an old bicycle on the wall for decorative purposes, and the tables are vintage sewing machine tables. Bushwick.
A crowd slowly builds around ukelele guy, but he's very unassuming and not playing too loudly or drawing attention to himself. People just seem to like him, and soon there's a crowd of about 6 people in a circle singing Brazilian songs. If he played the Beatles, I would've walked out, but it wasn't terrible at all.
At some point, a guy sitting by himself on the couch starts talking to us in English. He's probably about 40, and it turns out he was sitting next to us at the restaurant. He's very nice, and not being aggressive. Turns out he's actually Argentinian, so that makes sense. We start talking about dancing, and he says he does a lot of tango. We all start talking about why tango is hard, about the counterbalance that is required, and how you have to be chest-to-chest. So to show Lysia what he means, he stands up and takes my hand, and we do a couple of steps of tango at the bar. Our friend is facing the doorway, and I am facing the bar, where Flavio is, and he looks right at me, shakes his head "no," and gives me the thumbs-down, as to say "oh, no, Cindy, you don't want to be with this guy." Flavio was really taking care of us that night.
I see this as a sign to go home, as I already had 2 Caipirinhas in me and didn't want to take advantage of flavio's good nature, so I go to the bar and gave Flavio a hug and tell him we'll come by tomorrow. Flavio now whispers something in my ear that I don't understand, and I'm mildly afraid I've just given an impression I didn't intend.
Maybe he wanted me to go to his habitation.
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