Feel the Heat? It's coming...

Summer is coming and I love our routine. Contrary to popular belief, it's as if the arrival of the heat lowers your blood pressure. You get calm, relaxed, and open to just hanging around.

With kiddos the heat means we start early. Today we arrived at the beach at 815am for Chatterbox to play beach soccer with... gasp... a Flamengo tot team.  We can turn a cheek to the team cheating as it is for the greater good of our son's enjoyment. At least that is what I tell Mr Rant.

It really is wonderful to arrive super early to the sun and the sand. You get to suck in the non-burning rays, enjoy the view, and burn off a little of the Monday morning funk. It also means that popsicles at 1030am seem like a damn good idea, don't even get me started on coconut water.

And after all the early morning play it is so natural to chill out at home during the peak heat hours. We all shower off the beach, I start the Brazilian lunch preparations, and the kiddos play (get this) quietly.

The heat of the afternoon slides by and then you are ready to bust another move come 3 or 4pm when Satan has returned to his lair and taken some of the heat with him.

The weekends, when we regain custody of Mr. Rant, are even better. They mean very long mornings at the beach, lunch out at a typical Carioca restaurant, and then some mellow play at home or at a friend's place.

I must say, I love the summer months in Rio de Janeiro. It's when Cariocas let their full colors shine, or maybe it just feels that way since everyone is so tan and have drunken at least 2 beers.

What's your favorite thing about summer?

People People

They will talk to just about anyone...

Brazilians are people people. You talk to everyone, kiss far more cheeks than us North Americans are comfortable with, and wave to strangers. It's just the culture.

The other day I went out with the kids, who were in full costume of course. Being a Saturday in which Flamengo was playing, the bar next to our place was already full of Flamengistas drinking. Upon seeing two mini Captain Americans we were surrounded by the beer-ed up soccer fans.

The American in me would have screamed "STRANGERS" and ran. Ok, maybe not so dramatic but you get the point.

The Brazilian I have been molded into took it all in stride. My boys went around shaking hands and talked about their cool costumes. The men showered them with compliments of how cool they look and how good it is that Rio has superheros walking around keeping everyone safe. The smiles were contagious.

And that is just how it is here. Brazilians are ridiculously social and open people. Jim at Qualidade da Vida was talking about just that the other day. I have to say, I'm glad my kids are growing up that way.

You see, while not all things are created equal in this country (the understatement of the year), Cariocas have a way of treating just about all people like people. Seriously. I can't tell you how many times I've seen the Grandma caregivers stop and introduce their Grandkids to the neighorhood bum. It goes something like "This is so-and-so. He lives on our street. Make sure you say hello to him when you pass." Bum or not, he's a person too.

At the same time my kids are being taught, by me, to be careful with other people, to not wonder too far from Mom when out, and to general keep their eyes open. Rio de Janeiro is not an innocent place and there are bad people in the world. Kids do need to know that. Of course, they don't need to be afraid of people, life, or everyone new.

It's all about balance. Personally, I like my balance with a little more chit chats and smiles. 

Flamengo, the Kool-aid of Brazilian Soccer

You have to love Brazilian's enthusiasm when it comes to soccer. I mean they really get into it. So it's not surprising that you know when there's a game on regardless of looking at a tv. These guys yell when the ref scratches his ass, don't even make me try to explain the reaction when a team misses (or gets) a goal.

Of course you can amplify all this by about 245% when Flamengo is playing. Practically everyone, foreigners and Brazilians alike, are drinking the red and black Kool-aid.

I myself married into a Botafogo family, which has nothing to do with anything. I just like to point it out when I'm being an individualist like the other thousands of Botafogo followers.

Point is, I don't enjoy it when Mr. Rant is screaming for his team but that's one thing. Hearing the entire neighborhood screaming is another. Add to it that it's almost midnight... That does not make a happy Ranter!

Oh well, it's the way of the culture and you have got to love people with passion. I suppose you could say that soccer this society's opium... and beer, and meat, and oxygen, and maybe even sex. 

Soccer, it's in Their Blood

My husband is a true Carioca and, therefore, has his soccer team.  There are 4 club teams in Rio de Janeiro: Botafogo, Vasco, Flamengo, and Fluminense.  My husband is Botafogo and so am I. Yes, since I did not have a team, I married into one and my children were born into one. If they should want to switch teams later in life, they may also have to switch Fathers.

So imagine my husband's surprise when I announced that I was enrolling our 4 yr old son into soccer class. I had hardly gotten the last syllable of the word 'class' out of my mouth when he declared that it MUST be with the Botafogo club.

That's all well and good. I totally get where he's coming from. There's a much larger chance of our son switching teams if he is playing for and friends with people from another team.  I hear you Mr. Rant and it is duly noted.

But it's not going to happen.  It's just not practical. When I mentioned that, I was huffed. Oh yes, my husband huffed and puffed and attempted to blow down my logic.  So wasn't going to happen.  But I'm a fair player and I informed him that if he'd like to be late to work twice a week so he could load up our son in the car and drive him to practice, go for it.  I, on the other hand, was going to pick a team in walking distance from my place.

Walking distance, I'm all about it these days. I blame city life and good weather.

Anyway, he was somewhat accepting over the idea of our son practicing at the Fluminense club. It's around the corner from our place and we are members, only because it means a pool on hot days.  That and Fluminense is not a threat. No offense Flu supporters.

But something happened on the way to making that happen. I was invited by a friend to have my son try out beach soccer, also near our place.  Well, that just sounds like a hell of a lot more fun than regular soccer, plus my little one would actually be able to play around on the beach while we watched.  Score!

Imagine my husband's surprise when I informed him that I had found a team my son likes and it's, deep breath, sponsored by Flamengo!  For those of you who don't know, Flamengo is to the other Rio teams as the Isrealis are to the Palestinians.  Sorry honey, we left the Gaza strip for soccer practice.  So wrong, I know.

And it's not just my husband! I know my pediatrician's team, the school teacher's team, and basically anyone else in this country that I've spoken to for longer than a minute and a half.

Soccer is a way of life here. Even if you don't actively watch, I'd say 99% have a team they at least say they support.

As for my husband and the beach soccer team, he came and watched the other day.  He saw how happy our boy was out there.  It got the thumbs up.  Because, let's be honest, if there's one thing that makes a Brazilian Dad prouder than his soccer team, it's his kid playing soccer.  

Things to never say to a Carioca taxi Driver

There are numerous things you should never say to a taxi driver in Rio de Janeiro. For starters, Flamengo sucks.  Not the birds, the soccer team.  Like 98 % of all taxi drivers are Flamingistas.  Hell, 98% of all Brazilians are Flamingistas.

I learned the second thing last night coming home from Cathy's birthday party in Lapa.  I got in the cab and said "Laranjeiras por favor, rapidinho".  That translates to "Laranjeiras please, quickly (actually little quickly but we don't say that in English).

Thank goodness for the new seat belt law in Rio that require taxis to have seat belts in the back!  I thought I was going to die. I tried to say a prayer and realized I forgot all of them.  All those church years down the drain.  I'll google them later.

I was sitting thing wondering if this guy was just a fast driver or if he actually took my quickly comment seriously.

We took tunnel Santa Barbara and once we got to the other side, my driver was oh so proud.  He looked at me via the rare view mirror and said "4 minutes! Not bad!  See, I got you hear quickly" It takes between 10 and 15 minutes normally, depending on traffic.

At least I now know how it feels to be in a race car on the streets of Monaco.

Rule 2: Never tell a Carioca taxi to go quickly... unless you really mean it!

How about you?  What rules do you have when it comes to taxi drivers?