beware the Brazilian dance

Last night I went to the birthday drinks of Izabella ( yoga goddess) at Cafe Des Arts in the centre of Basel. I really like the décor in this bar. It's a little crazy and there are lovely, velvet-red chairs on which to lounge elegantly and yet seductively ( at least in my head anyway.) I was the only non-Brazilian at the party (well maybe I am a little bit Brazilian but not a full Brazilian, you understand) so I had that tricky job of making sure everybody else felt comfortable speaking in their mother tongue around me. I feel guilty when people think they should revert to English when they are on a night out with friends. Fortunately V ( Alf's mum) kept on introducing me as her English teacher which made everyone petrified to speak English anyway. I told V she should call me her friend or at least Alf's half-mum but she liked calling me her English teacher and so who am I to rain on her parade? Anyhow I did my best to follow the conversations which wasn't that hard anyway since the topics tended to be either 1. football 2. how much nicer Buenos Aires would be without the Argentinians 3. the lack of sun and surf in Basel 4. plastic surgery 5. the embarassing popularity of Brazlian 'porno-creu' dancing (V's words not mine - see this video and you decide :-)

I enjoyed the drinks though. Sometimes yoga people can be a little precious but Izabella is very real. She loves a good drink, doesn't oppose botox ( which sounds v un-yoga to me) and can bend like a straw.

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When I woke up this morning it was snowing heavily in the streets. I gave my Russian student, O, a private lesson then I bought lots of pretty tights, returned home and dug out all my painting equipment. I am still struggling to write at present ( I got another rejection for a short story this week. A nice rejection again with words like witty, clever, enjoyable ...but no! ) so I thought a bit of painting might lift my mood. I find nice smelling candles help too as does a little bit of dodgy creu dancing for toy pig.