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would hire for trip to Petropolis or elsewhere if we intended to take one. He was ready to shuttle us around Rio, and we did decide to go the old cathedral at Av. Pres. Vargas and Rio Branco and then go by boat. The beautiful old cathedral, with painted ceiling and tall candles all around, was crowded with people, obviously for some special mass or other ceremony. Along Av. Rio Branco we found many of the narrow side streets turned into walkways. Throngs of people everywhere. "Like Hong Kong," Tom said. Few buildings were familiar. A new, all glass MacDonalds fills a thin angle between Rio Branco and Miguel Couto. We went in & searched out toilets, then found it a splendid place to observe the street scene for a few moments. Walked the length of Rio Branco past the Theatro Municipal, Nacional Biblioteca, until Tom said he recognized things -- that we used to go around the next big corner, he didn't know why. At the next big, rounded corner we followed around to the left and there was the American Embassy, sleek as ever, Stars & Stripes rippling in the breeze, where we used to visit Emerson Brown [[strikethrough]] Estancia [[/strikethrough]] Corner of Av. Rio Branco and Presidente Wilson (([[??]])). The Campbells have been quite concerned that we should call Emerson, who is alone & housebound. They suppose we knew him better than we actually did. Caroline died years ago, very sadly from Alzheimer disease. Richard lives in [[end page]] [[start page]] the States. Emerson is plagued with swollen legs. Dan & America never produced his phone number, though. They have not thought of anyone else in town whom we would remember -- all the Point Four geologists left decades ago. At the end of Rio Branco we took a picture of the Gloria Church and picked an opportunity to run across the speedway to the Modern Art Museum (not knowing there was a wide, convenient walkway). The Museum is in a stunning setting facing the Botafogo marina and Sugar Loaf. The collections are spare -- we did not realize the old ones were lost in a fire some years ago. Saw one tropical scene I genuinely liked. So we tried photographing it without a flash. It was nearly noon and Tom very thirsty, so we took a taxi to the Cholé Brasileiro, Rua do Matriz 54, in Botafogo. Traffic stalled much of time in Botafogo, which is an interesting mix of medical establishments and schools, old houses, busy shops, and one of the last remaining favelas ^[[visible]] on hillsides ^[[beyond]] [[strikethrough]] it end [[/strikethrough]] Rua Matriz. We went to the Cholé for feijoado, a house specialty. An old, narrow mansion converted to a restaurant with 3 small dining rooms off a long hall. We opened the place at noon and watched our (middle) room nearly fill w Brazilians. While Tom had draft beer I asked for a batido -- it proved to be maracuja, sweet but tart. Little goodies were brought first -- bread, pate, ^[[green]] olives, pickled slices of something, a mayonnaise. The feijpado course in 2 pots - one strictly beans, the other mainly
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https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Point_Four_Program