Yeah, so... Carnaval was sort of a fiasco, but the good news is that I am back safe and sound in São Paulo, lar doce lar. Once I got back from Salvador, I had a lovely two days to myself to sit around in my apartment doing crosswords, watch Scrubs, go to the gym, even take myself to the movies. I saw Match Point (Ponto Final!), which was disturbing but entertaining. I think Scarlett Johanssen is a good actor, and Jonathan Rhys Meyers has his moments, but a lot of times I felt like you could see him reading the script in his head. It was almost as if the script stood out in plain view when he said his lines, which is not a mark of a good actor. You know how when you watch a play you really never forget that you're in a theater, watching a play? But normally, when I'm in a movie, unless the movie sucks, I get absorbed in it and am not constantly picturing Woody Allen or whoever sitting down at a typewriter and tapping out a script.
Anyway, I have come to enjoy going to the movies by myself occasionally, I find it quite cathartic. Once you start doing it, it becomes sort of addictive, or at least an option that you always consider. Like, oh, it's Saturday afternoon... I could sit here in my pajamas/underwear and watch reruns of According to Jim, or I could gussy myself up and go to the movies! So liberating. Other movies I have taken myself to since coming to Brazil: the Constant Gardener, The Family Stone, and Harry Potter, but actually, that was only because the friend who I was supposed to meet couldn't make it.
I didn't go to the movies this weekend. Instead, I finally reunited with my Brazilian friend M who has been working out of town for the last two months in a cushy resort town called Guarujá. I hadn't seen her since Christmas night, so it was wonderful to catch up with her and compare Carnaval horror stories. Actually her Carnaval was more fun than mine, except that she had to work every night till midnight or 1 am, and then drove an hour to get another beach town where her boyfriend was staying so she could party with him. Then she had to get up and drive back to Guarujá to work the next day. Ay yay.
M and I went to this kind of swanky, overpriced bar called Figa on Saturday night. All of the drinks were at least $18 reais (about $9 US), which doesn't sound like a lot compared to New York prices or whatever, but for São Paulo that is pretty pricey. But thank God for lecherous Italian men, one of whom sidled up to us at the bar and communicated, in a weird blend of Italian, Portuguese and English, that he would like to pay for all of our drinks. Saúde, I say. This guy was totally creepy and married, as he proudly told us, but we gladly accepted his offer and he ended up buying us 2 glasses of wine, a cosmopolitan, and a vodka and diet coke. All for naught on his part, I'm afraid.