Flying down to Rio

HIs it Wednesday?
Have lost track of date sorry.  Not much happened until we arrived in Rio.  Airport, 2 hour flight, Waggon Wheel biscuits, transfer to hotel.  The hotel is right on Copacabana beach and our room has a side view of the beach.  

It has recently be reopened after a complete refurbishment and is lovely.  We were met in the lobby like royalty with champagne and everyone smiling and saying welcome to Rio.  We had a little rest and then showered ready for a meal out.  Round the corner on the promenade we found a great fish place, no one spoke English but there was a bit of English on the menu.  Of course we forgot about the huge portions you get here and ordered far too much.  We were in a bit of a hurry as we had decided to repeat our successful tango outing by going to a samba club.  It was downtown in the cultural district and turned out to be another dancing mecca.

  It was on three floors with an atrium in the middle looking down on the dance floor.  So you could watch the dancers.  What you do, is tell the cashier at the door your name and she gives you a food and drinks list.  When you order a drink or food, the waiter marks it off on your card and you pay when you leave.  The tables round the dance floor were already taken so we asked for our guide's friend, Naudo, who brought out a special little table for us with a good view 

  Only two or three couples were dancing at that point but the traditional samba looked very exciting.  We had been told to look out for an 80 year old black guy in a white suit, hat and shoes as he was always there and a terrific dancer.  We did see him but he wasn't dancing.  He had earphones in and looked pensive.  It seems that the Brazilian League final was on that night and the local team, Flamengo, was tipped to win. When the floor filled up a bit more, Lynn and I got up and did the nearest thing we could to a samba, basically waggling your bottom a lot.  There were two live bands but local samba music consists of long, largely tuneless, shouty lyrics to loud drum beating with a bit of pipes thrown in.  But the locals all seemed to know the words.
We took turns to have a wander round the other floors.  I took some photos with my mobile but of course they are stuck there till I get it fixed.  Will ask Lynn for some of hers.  We learned later that the building used to be a shop selling old things but not as old as antiques.  They didn't do very well so they arranged all the items as decoration, cleared the floor and turned it into a samba club.its very popular every night and had it not been for the football we probably wouldn't have got in.  Each are of each floor is decorated in a different way, banks of old radios, sewing machines, old fashioned pharmacy bottles, life size cartoon statues of black slave women.  

 on level three there was an open air walkway into the next building with a extra dance floor.
We had a great night and of course I could not restrain Lynn from chatting up a huge Brazilian man who did not speak English and did not want to dance but she managed to get him on the floor, to dance of course.  Taxi ride back and we could see and hear fireworks, chanting and black and red shirts everywhere.  Flamengo had won.  Muito bom!

Here is me crying for Argentina at Evitas' s mausoleum.  I couldn't help it.