marcopaulo

Rio's Carnival.

"They all look like Carmen Miranda", he said to me with a smile.

To my Brazilian eyes, they weren't not a bit like the Brazilian bombshell. 

"O que foi que ele disse", the gorgeous mulata that was holding his  hand  had asked me. She couldn't understand  a word of English, but wouldn't give up. We met in Copacabana, and my wife was not sure if it was the right thing to join him and his prostitute sweetheart. 

"Let's have a chopp", he invited. We drank the chopp looking the parade of people that danced in a frenzy of sheer joy.

Finaly my wife broke the silence, and asked her: "Como  que você se chama, minha filha? Por que  você não o está desfilando?"

Then she said  the terrible simple  truth; "Tenho da ganhar a vida, madame".

I felt a terrible cold altough it was February, and everybody was almost naked to be able to dance in the blazing sun.

"We are going to marry next year", he said with an angelic smile.

"Esses americanos são mesmo muito bobos", my wife said to me when we took a taxi. "Casar com uma prostiuta daquelas. Veja só! Um rapaz tãobonito, e ainda por cima americano..."

I said to myself, remembering how beautiful she was,  that married women have no past, and, besides that, from the point of view of the balance of trade, it was the right thing to do.