The high life in Brazil

Gabriel and Marilia were Brazilians who appeared to have it all. Gabriel headed up two engineering companies and Marilia managed their social life. Renato and I were often invited to their sitio — country home — high in the mountains away from Rio de Janeiro, which sported a swimming pool, a huge barbecue pit, two houses, a sauna, and some very handsome conifer growth around the estate.

There was always a contingence of neighbors and other city friends partaking of Gabriel’s and Marilia’s hospitality, and there was one in attendance who fascinated me. This neighbor brought it in his pocket, a tiny pygmy marmoset that couldn’t have weighed more than three ounces. The little fellow was very tame, or perhaps the ambience intimidated it and he wanted to stick close to his owner, who fed it an olive and a bit of carrot while I yearned to hold the animal but did not venture to ask. And after it had fed, curled up under a napkin and went to sleep.

The rest of us went on to consume various kinds of meat carved from a gigantic haunch of beast spinning slowly over the coals in the pit, and linguisa, handed around on skewers, and we drank gallons of Chopp, the beer that came to identify Brazilian casual dining. We did not bother with wine most of the time. For the meal, a few guests had brought their own knives, large silver-handled things that were usually family heirlooms. The stores sold new ones made to look like old ones; I purchased one, and it reposes now in a drawer neglected and forgotten except for this entry.

And here’s a note that has nothing to do with the foregoing: I had a thought the other day about the Trump. What is he like after having had too much to drink?

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