Authentic Açaí

We stopped to slowly take in the breath-taking sights of Rio de Janiero for several minutes, before turning the other direction, to observe the activity on the pavilion. It was a bright, sunny day, with countless families lounging about on chairs sitting under trees or visiting the array of shops surrounding the minuscule square. After gazing at the pleasant business for some time, my mother slightly cleared her throat and informed us that she was feeling thirsty.
        We immediately checked our water bottles, expecting lucid and rejuvenating H2O, to find that all of them were empty. We must have unconsciously drunken all of it while wondering the winding paths of Jardim Botanico. After staring discontentedly at the empty plastic bottles for a moment, my father promptly came to his feet, proposing we visit on of the many shops, for a cool, drink of water. Enthusiastic for the opportunity to observe any snippets of Brazilian culture, I readily concurred, zealously following my mother and father to a humble ice cream shop.
     Upon entering the establishment, I was greeted by the welcome chill of air-conditioning on my cheek. I was already fond of the place. I then, drew my attentions away from the cool conditions of the building to note its more important aspects, like what it sold, for instance. It was a small ice cream shop, hosting a wide variety of flavors, including (of course) the insipid chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla. However, rather than simply sticking to the water for which we had come, or choosing one of those traditional flavors, we approached a gangly man in a white uniform and asked politely," Um açaí e uma água, por favor."
      Again, my Portuguese must not have been as incomprehensible as I'd previously thought, for the man eagerly responded, shortly handing us a tall plastic glass, filled with a thick sludge, which was a dark maroon color, along with a familiar bottle of mineral water. I thanked him distractedly, as my parents handed Reals to the cashier. Taking one of the three plastic spoons which were buried deep in the Açaí, I took a tentative scoop of the stuff, just to see what it would taste like.
     Unlike a variety of  exotic meats, one cannot simply say that Açaí tastes like chicken. In fact, I had never tasted anything remotely close to Açaí in my life, so it is somewhat difficult to describe its taste. It was mildly sweet, having a distinct berry flavor, that was also pretty bitter as well. At first, I was a little repulsed by the strange flavor of the berry, finding it a little too new for me, yet the sun was hot, and the frozen Açaí was delightfully cold. I spooned some more with my parents, to find that the more I ate, the more I enjoyed its taste. It's slushy-like texture  and berry-enriched content seemed to refresh us tremendously, like freshly watered plants, we were shortly bursting with new-found energy. It was time that we take one last look at the summit of Morro da Urca, before adventuring forward, to Pao de Acucar.