Injecting debate

Contraception in Brazil, like elsewhere, centres around the pill, implants and injections. If you don't have health insurance and wish to get any of these via a doctor, you will either have to pay for an expensive appointment or take your chances with the dreadful public health system. Unsurprisingly, a popular third alternative is to go to your local chemist and, in classic Brazilian fashion, get the pill or an injection under the counter. Some sort of technical loophole means they can provide these services if you ask for the brand name specifically rather than for what the drug is meant to do.

Double figures

Today Sam turns 10 ... months. And I just turned nine months in Brazil. It's been quite a trip. We're still waiting for our "balloon".

Comfort food

What do you see there on the breakfast table? I see a coffee sitting next to a lightly toasted white roll, spread with butter. The roll tastes as you would expect something so unexciting to taste. And I'll have it if there's nothing better on offer. All too often there isn't. Brazilian bakeries tend to produce incredibly stodgy food, lacking in subtlety, texture and taste. Croissants are generally dreadful. But my point in asking about this particular toasted roll is that for some Brazilians - perhaps many, maybe all - it is much, much more than a bit of bland, nutritionless carbohydrate. It is ... drum roll please ... the legendary "Pao Na Chapa" or, more prosaically, grilled bread. For P it is a scrumptious, tastebud-titillating treat. If my tone sounds sarcastic, I apologise, it's not meant to. Whatever floats your boat, and if it's an inexpensive treat then so much the better. It just got me thinking about comfort food in general and what a peculiar thing it is, reconnecting us with our own peculiar childhood memories and emotions ... and often making absolutely no sense to anyone else. Fish fingers, anyone ?

Jam tomorrow ?

Many people have commented on Brazil's need to add value, to take its God-given natural bounty and transform it into products worthy of a fast-developing country. Instead, it lets European, US and Chinese companies buy low and sell high. Jam, for example, costs a fortune here, and only a bit less if you're prepared to settle for the synthetic, over-sugared goo produced by domestic manufacturers. Yet you often see street vendors hawking fresh strawberries, such as these pictured. I bought them just now for 10 reais, which is about £4, or one pound a pack. Granted, that is cheaper than usual, which might be three for a tenner on the street or five reais each in the shops. I'm thinking of trying to turn them into jam myself, guessing that, if I can make a decent go of it, the economics of fresh home-made jam will be very attractive. I imagine that would not be the case in the UK.

Ashes to ashes

I was surprised to discover, some years ago, that many Jews in the UK are cremated, as was the case today with the late Amy Winehouse. (Always weird using that additional appellation so soon after someone has died. Just a few days ago she may have been "late" for an appointment; now she is forever "Late", by virtue of dying early) She had a Jewish funeral service in a Jewish part of town and her body was despatched by a loyal band of (mainly) Jewish North Londoners. But instead of going into the ground, according to the strictures of traditional Judaism, her corpse made its way into a furnace. There isn't a nicer word for that - and "oven" has all sorts of ugly, historical connotations.

No comment

A perfect example of what I'm talking about in the last-but-one post are the ongoing problems I've been having with people's comments not showing up on this blog. There is no-one at Google prepared to help so you must somehow find your way through the online maze of Googe discussion groups and pray that a kind soul will suggest a solution. And lo and behold someone has just responded to say that I should try clicking a different box, allowing another format for comments. I have now done that ... so, once again, here's hoping.

iMad !

I love my iPad and since using it as my sole computer post-robbery have come to think of it as the main event rather than a supporting act. Except for one thing: this HORRIBLE autocorrect ! Its endless errors (often embarrassing) and interruptions, forcing insane over-use of the delete button can only really be described one way: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagggggggggghhhhhhh !!!!!!!!

PS: Yes, I have tried turning it off but that seemed to make it worse. This device needs a reworked keypad and a more intelligent autocorrect feature that actually learns how you write rather than making the same mistakes again and again.

Update: Seems I'm in good company. And there's an entire website devoted to Apple's evil autocorrect.