Channelling the Cane Spirits

Saturday 23.06.07

I was called in to work behind the bar for a party at Che Lagarto in Ipanema, an altogether more stylish hostel than the one I work at in Copacabana, and sporting a full bar and menu. It was packed when I arrived, drum 'n' bass and deep house were playing and I instantly got to work, wrestling with the beer taps and smashing the lime and sugar into submission for Capirinhas. Luckily for me, Brasilians seem to prefer an obscene amount of head on their beer, so my less than perfect beer pulling skills went unnoticed more often than not.

I have come to the conclusion that I was employed as a professional socialite at the hostel. I did't really need to do much apart from encourage people to take the tours, challenge them in pool games, get them to buy drinks and press the door button every now and again. Tuesday I found myself in a new position in the other Che Lagarto hostel in Copacabana, just up the road, where I do pretty much the same thing, except the place is inhabited by the Brasilian hockey teams for the Pan American Games, and they don't speak English, drink or take tours, and are in bed by 9.30pm.

We boarded a ferry on Friday, which powered across Guanabara Bay to Niteroi, to see the Museu de Arte Contemporãnea. My first thoughts upon alighting were how different this place appeared compared to Rio. It soon became apparent Niteroi was the equivalent of Rio's Geelong, or maybe San Diego's Tijuana, Santa's Elves, Turner's Hooch or Bush's Cheney. The one that does all the dirty work, so to speak. Most of the locals we spoke to either had no knowledge of the Museum's existence or didn't know how to get there.

We found it, only a short taxi ride away, in a much more beautiful part of town, looking a lot like the giant flying saucer from Close Encounters of the Third Kind (minus the flashing coloured lights and 5-note tune on repetition). Designed by Oscar Niemeyer, the world-famous Brasilian architect, the museum stands perched on a rock like a gleaming white high-hat from Golaith's drum kit, were rock music invented in the days of the Old Testament. Due to oppressive weather conditions, the views to both Pão de Açucar and Cristo Redentor were replaced by various shades of green and grey, as if someone had spilled dirty water all over a paint palette.

The museum featured an exhibition by a Brasilian minimalist artist named Paulo Roberto Leal. In the grand central circular space of the museum, the effect of his giant Tetris-block shapes and Mondrian-esque primary colour combinations was lost somewhat, but the edge galleries on both floors, were a better place to explore and appreciate the more abstract and interactive of his pieces.

That night, we went out to a massive nightclub in Lapa just behind the Arcos named Fundaçao Progresso, where two bands were playing. The first group played Samba and traditional Festa Junina (June Festival) music, and in between the bands, we played sideshow games for prizes, such as fishing for polystyrene balls, or throwing rubber balls into a clown's mouth. Of course drunk again, we waded through the streets, filled to capacity with people and their rubbish to a taxi to take us home at the end of the night.