More Ipanema

Rising at 8:30 again, I head straight downstairs for breakfast, pausing only to brush my teeth.

I have the same breakfast as yesterday: bacon and scrambled egg, followed by fruit. Got to keep the vitamin intake up. I can also be a totally boring bastard at times. Especially when it comes to hotel breakfasts.

After eating, I wander down to the supermarket again. For bread, cheese. That sort of stuff. It’s for my tea later. No point throwing away money on that fancy restaurant food. I’m not made of money. And it’s interesting to poke around a Brazilian supermarket. I tell myself.

I’ve resorted to yesterday’s plan. Which is to trail over to one of the few beer places that opens in the early afternoon. And also isn’t too far away.

About 13:00 I get an Uber over to Copacabana. Not to the beach, but to Colarinho Copacabana. A beer pub a couple of blocks behind the beach.

I was here with Martyn a few years back. The first time I was in Rio in 2020, when I had all of 24 hours to investigate the city.

Colarinho is a long, thin establishment at the base of a large modern building housing a hotel. About half the seating is outside. Which is where I park my fat, old arse. It’s rather pleasant in the shade, with a bit of a breeze sweeping away my sweat. Generated on the long walk from the kerb.

Time to get myself some beer.

Colarinho IPA, 6.5% ABV, 56 IBU, 23.90 reals a US pint
Called an “American IPA”, it looks like a West Coast example. That is, not sludgy. Not very citrussy. More the tobacco-like aroma of Old World hops. OK, but not very American.

The prices are cheaper here than Espaço 09. Though this one beer still cost more than a litre of vodka in the supermarket. Which, weirdly, didn’t sell either rum or cachaca. At least, not that I could see.

It’s quite relaxing here. Other than the traffic streaming past. Fuck me, people walk down the street here wearing very little. Just a skimpy bikini or shorts and bare chest.  Though I guess the weather isn’t designed for overdressing.

A lot of the other customers have obviously just come from the beach. Copacabana is just around the corner. Surprising how few people wear hats here, given the climate.

Another beer is what I need. To take my minds off hats. (I’m wearing one today, myself. Which may be why I’m thinking about them.)

Hocus Pocus a Pelaja do Astronauto Contra a Falta da Consciencia, 8.5% ABV, 25.90 real for 200 ml
Described as a “West Coast Hop Hash Double IPA”. Whatever that means. Yes, there’s the citrus. This is much better. Loads of citrus and a decent thump of alcohol.

I’m going for Brazilian tapas – starting with a cod croquette. Yum. That’s nice. Full of fishy goodness. When it cools down. Much like a Dutch croquette in that respect. I smash it down to help it cool off.

The weather is so pleasant here, if a touch on the warm side at 30º C. On past experience, Blumenau won’t be as nice. Mostly on account of the very high humidity. I expect to sweat my arse off every time I step outside.

That thought is making me thirsty. More beer needed.

Noi Amara, 10.5% IPA, 100 IBU, 30.90 reals a US pint
Quite dark this one. Bit of citrus. Quite caramelly. Not as good as the last one. But . . . cheaper and stronger.

Continuing the tapas, I get a prawn pasty to go with the beer. It’s rather nice. You can’t go wrong with a pie.

I’m a bit all beered out. I’ve tried all the beers I fancied. (All the stupidly strong ones.) Time for a caipirinha. And another cod croquette.

It’s great having all my time to myself. And not be rushing around. I can sit here and eat croquettes for as long as I fucking want. And drink caipirinhas. I never get bored of those.

My enthusiasm for the two runs out a bit after 5 PM. At least, that’s what the times on my photos tell me. I’ve completely lost track. Still light, that’s what matters.

After the extravagance of the tapas earlier, I’m back on cheese rolls. The odd ham one, too. I’m living the high life in Rio. This is what retirements all about. Until the excitement gets too much. But let’s not dwell on that.

Fun. That’s what I’m having. In as responsible a way as possible. Well, as possible while still enjoying myself.

On which thought I pour myself a healthy hotel whisky measure. And get down to watching some really bad TV.

I don’t make it too late. I’ve an early start tomorrow. Whisk me to sleep whisky.


Boteco Colarinho Escondido
R. Francisco Otaviano, 30
Copacabana,
Rio de Janeiro
RJ, 22080-040, Brazil