The weekend was fun, on Saturday I got taken out by a Brazilian guy that I met at the party on Friday. He is very friendly and enthusiastic, but unfortunately he is way shorter than me (albeit not a complete dwarf) and not particularly attractive. So, this is the balancing act: how to be nice enough to have the enthusiastic local drive you around town and take you to cool places, without having to have sex, or having to be too straightforward as to why sex will not be on the agenda at all.

On Monday morning I went, for the first time, to Rocinha, the biggest favela in Rio to volunteer at the creche established by the Italian woman, Barbara, I had met through a friend from London. Let me tell you, I am not suprised that apparently the ILO or some such organization found that the second most stressful job after being a coal miner is that of kindergarten instructors. I never knew how much work it is to take care of 25 one to 4 year-old: they basically require constant, undivided attention. Of course, I get to do as much as I want because I am a gringa and I cannot speak Portuguese properly, but so far they have involved me in the bathing, feeding, entertaining, etc. of these kids and I enjoy it very much. (Although, I must say that I have successfully managed to avoid nappy changing duty in the long chain of tasks that starts with undressing the children and finishes by dressing them, by picking the far more adult-friendly task of drying the kids after their baths...) I have become tia Fanni and they seem to like me. By the end of today I felt like passing out in the middle of my Portuguese class, because I am a complete amateur and chose the unimaginative, yet tiring method of sucking up to the kids: lifting them, throwing them around, pulling them with the help of the carpet, etc. The other women do not ever do these things, but, then again, they have to be there all the time and I am only there for a week. These women all have their own kids by the way, so they could tell right away that I am not exactly experienced in the field of child rearing. They seemed ok with that though, but when they found out that the last time I had done any handicraft was when I was 8 (and even then, I was not that great) I could see a mixture of pity and shock in their eyes, so I was determined to learn how to sew these little flowers they were all working on, and I did! Today I sat there for hours, practising my newly learnt craft and I got a couple of approving smiles, so I think I am staring to break the ice.

The favela is interesting, it is built on a hill and there are maybe 3 or 4 real streets and the rest consists of little alleys between the houses. There is a very strong air of DIY about the place: almost all of the houses are under construction or slightly derelict, the water pipes are above the ground and the electricity wires are frighteningly close to the ground as well. Rubbish is all over the place and if you do not know your way around, then it is impossible to maintain any sense of direction at all. Yesterday, I got taken in by Barbara´s boyfriend from the entrance of the favela, which is guarded by the ubiquitous police, but today I went in by myself and met Barbara at the school from where she took me up to the creche. The place is not really as scary as one would imagine it: it is a proper neighbourhood, where there are around 200 000 people, there are shops and pubs, and not everyone is miserably poor (although the majority is). My scariest experience so far was running into hordes of heavily armed policemen in the claustrophobic alleys on the way to the kindergarten. Aparently, the police are very corrupt and dangerous, they are subsidized partly by drug dealers so it is best to stay out of their way, if possible. I would not claim that I understand perfectly well how these people live and survive but I am going back every day this week so maybe I will get a better sense for it.