Sean and I (Simon decided the attractions of an early night were more compelling) ate at a place called Costelleria Berlin...........I don't know if the predominance of German names is due to the 1945 immigration influx or what - however the Berlinness of the place was not very apparent - indeed it looked entirely Portugese to me. They had a guy playing guitar in the old style, with the guitar held high up, the strap on the opposite shoulder - no thumbs used on the left hand, but every digit used on the right....exemplary. He even played a Brazilian song I recognised, by a guy called Zeca Pagodinho.
As this place was but a short stroll ( and downhill too) to the Espresso Sorocabano, it seemed natural to pop in for a swift half.........after about 9 pm, you get frisked with a metal detector on the way in. This is something one is not too sure whether to be reassured or worried about....... anyway my Swiss Army knife got past this. Presumably his metal detector is set for AK47s.
Pretty soon we will be blood-brothers with the waiters in this place - I am now officially an "amigo". Again an excellent band was playing - virtually all these bands have a guy with a six-string bass, playing in a distinctively rhymthic style, right across the fretboard. Unique. Heroically restraining ourselves to a couple of beers, one of our new best friend waiters then organised a taxi for us - this one seemed to be equipped with hyperdrive as he effortlessly swished past everything, only stopping for red lights that really meant it ie they had been that way for at least 5 seconds....perhaps I exaggerate. But only just.