Reunion

Yesterday and the day before were too tedious and busy to inspire any blips, but at least I may finally have solved our phone and internet problems. Maybe not the definitive solution, but it will do for now.
 
Today was a great improvement, although overshooting our mark and having to backtrack meant we were over an hour late for a reunion lunch across the other side of the Guanabara Bay. By this time, steam was coming out of my ears and the air was blue, but the company was so good, the surroundings so lovely and everyone was so relaxed that I simmered down immediately – and HH always keeps calm, or appears to.
 

In ‘the old days’, there were large expat communities on both sides of the Bay and both were well represented today. HH and I and the guest of honour, who now lives in Portugal, were the only members of the party not born and raised in Brazil. She (the G of H) married an Anglo-Brazilian and they raised their family close to the little yacht club where we met today. The club itself was founded at the end of World War II by the British community (or should I say English, because the red and white of St. George predominate). It’s quiet and lovely and the views across the bay are wonderful (you can just see the Corcovado mountain on the right of the photo). There was even a kingfisher to watch.  It was hard to tear ourselves away from the company and the peace and quiet to head up the hill – and then our navigation wasn’t much better than on the journey over, we missed the short cut and wound up going all the way back across the bridge before we could pick up the right route.Yesterday and the day before were too tedious and busy to inspire any blips, but at least I may finally have solved our phone and internet problems. Maybe not the definitive solution, but it will do for now.
 
Today was a great improvement, although overshooting our mark and having to backtrack meant we were over an hour late for a reunion lunch across the other side of the Guanabara Bay. By this time, steam was coming out of my ears and the air was blue, but the company was so good, the surroundings so lovely and everyone was so relaxed that I simmered down immediately – and HH always keeps calm, or appears to.
 
In ‘the old days’, there were large expat communities on both sides of the Bay and both were well represented today. HH and I and the guest of honour, who now lives in Portugal, were the only members of the party not born and raised in Brazil. She (the G of H) married an Anglo-Brazilian and they raised their family close to the little yacht club where we met today. The club itself was founded at the end of World War II by the British community (or should I say English, because the red and white of St. George predominate). It’s quiet and lovely and the views across the bay are wonderful (you can just see the Corcovado mountain on the right of the photo). There was even a kingfisher to watch.  It was hard to tear ourselves away from the company and the peace and quiet to head up the hill – and then our navigation wasn’t much better than on the journey over, we missed the short cut and wound up going all the way back across the bridge before we could pick up the right route.