What Pachaa is for Madrid...

On Friday, I was told that we were going to go out to a club. And not just any club...

... a club, where you have to go early enough not to wait hours in line,
... a club, where everyone goes,
... a club where you will party all night,
... a club, where people buy bottles of Vodka/Whiskey/Tequila/Champagen and not glasses,
... a club, where only the coolest people know the bouncers,
... a club, that to me sounded like Pachaa.

But many things were different in Bufalo's. It was harder to get in. And I don't mean the bouncers, although not even Carlos could have gotten past the bouncers, like he often did in Pachaa...
What I mean is the security measures:

You are checked by a bouncer, if you fit in.
Your passport/ID is being checked by another bouncer, to see if you are old enough and if you have legal identification on you.
You and your stuff are searched for weapons or drugs or both by yet another security person.
You the entrance hall where you have to stand in line to register your ID or Tax Registry Number (so they can sue you if you cannot pay in the end or demolish something or start a fight).
You get a little chipcard to buy all drinks on and you can finally go party.

When we entered the actual club through a door, I expected this huge dancefloor, light show and some cool places to sit. To my surprise though, it was Sertanejo Music playing (Country Music from the region of Goiânia) and the whole club, including bars and some tables, was no bigger than the main dancefloor of Pachaa and instead of dancers and light show there was Rodeo being shown on a big screen. Now, don't get me wrong. The people were all dancing and the girls were way more dressed up than in Pachaa, but it was a little weird compared to what I thought I would see, and honestly, the cowboys walking around didn't make it any more normal. Plus, I felt like a grandma in there. Now, many people of you might laugh, especially the ones I know from Madrid. And I think, the people were not even that much younger then me (I guessed the average at 22 maybe 23, with me being 24)... but they looked younger... maybe it is the crowd I usually hang out with that is older... hahaha...

As I am not very fond of Sertanejo Music (yet?!), I went to first of all get a beer. The guy who handed me the beer, took a napkin and wrapped it nicely around the bottles neck and fixated it with a litte twist. It looked like what you would put on a nice 15-year old Rioja and not on a brown, 0.33l beer bottle and it was already soaked from the condensation when he handed it over. I looked at it with a "what's that?!" look and took the napkin off. For Sthela that was funny enough laugh really loud and the guy behind the counter would remember me for the rest of the night, handing me beers without the napkin... :D

By the way, did I tell you that many brazilians think that we Germans would drink our beer warm? I do not know where they got this from, but it is one of the most common things I have heard so far, when people found out I was German...

At around 1am at night, the music changed to house music and it was a little easier for me to move along to it than to the Sertanejo Music (Puppet, I miss you hear, the men hear cannot lead very well, which for a beginner to this type of dance is both embarassing and kinda boring!). So I danced all night and wanted to catch a cab in the morning.
On my way out someone out of a sudden grabbed my hand and tried to kiss me. Now for drunk Brazilian men that might be typical, not so for German girls. I could hardly see or hear him, so while he was telling me something about, my pretty eyes and that I was so beautiful and blablabla let's make out, I played my foreigner card. I kept a little distance and said something in portugese like "Sorry, no speak portugese... beautiful? Yes, party is beautiful... what? ... bye!" and went away.
Leaving the place is a little easier than going out. One goes back to the counter, pays whatever is saved on the chipcard, goes to the bouncer who checks that the chipcard is really empty ad then one can leave.

I was just about to enter the cab when this drunk cowboy was there again. Now that he was standing and walking in the light, I could really see that I did good to keep him on distance. He was so drunk he could hardly stand and sweating as if he had just ran a marathon. As he tried to tell me that we should share cab, and beautiful blabla, I pretended to be really stupid and said "Sim Taxi... (Yes, a cab.) Beautiful hm? I like it better than walking. What? Sorry, no portugese... nao fala. Boa noite! Good night." and closed the door.
I had a nice chat in portugese with my taxi driver on the way home. My portugese is actually getting a lot better, but no need to tell the drunk guy ;)