Cocktails and cameras

"Capirinha com ananas?" the barman checks back with me. Casually he turns and picks half a pineapple out of the ice bucket before shearing thick slices into the blender. Adding a measure of cachaca he pauses and throws another half in there for good measure. The noise is swallowed by the pulsating Brazilian rhythms pumping out (or are they African? Cuban?). I've been here on a Friday night when both blenders in the long scarlet bar are running every second, but on a Monday night the blenders pulse intermittently. Not that the bar is empty, almost full just seems spacious when compared with full to bursting.

That's the way Bairro Alto is. The maze of restaraunts, bars and clubs is crowded even on a Monday but there is more space between each group allowing the differences between them to emerge - some tribal/hippy dreadlocked warriors, glammed up hipsters, tourists looking lost and people just cruising. There's also those that live there, walking their dogs, hanging out washing, coming home from the shops. All these people against the dark background of the dilapidated old town.

Depending who I'm with I get a bit nervous walking around as when I first got here I was warned that some streets were safer than others. While it's no more dangerous than Northbridge or London the unfamiliarity makes it seem more sinister. It's paranoia, honestly, the fact it goes away after dinner or after the first couple of drinks proves that. If you were watching it would probably be funny, watching me get halfway down a street and remember this is one of the bad streets, or discreetly trying to sneak a look up a street before turning into it.

Those paranoias get shattered occasionally - last night when after a steady swag of 3euro cocktails full of fresh strawberries and mango (half a tree of mint in the case of the mojito) Ali, Karen and I went wandering to hang out with the outside crowd. When we were drawn back to the cocktail bar (can't think why) the bar guy called me over "You guys left a camera". We hadn't even noticed it was missing yet. But he goes back to his casual, no hurry bar service, occasionally wandering the bar to pick a few empties and check on the customers.

For future reference - cinnamon-flavoured schnapps with gold flakes is a bad idea. But pretty.