For your viewing pleasure

Here's a little more slivers of life from Brazil. I don't have much time to write at the moment, nor the discipline to, considering I'm working on other stuff, so the pictures will have to suffice.

(Everyone welcome Sheila to my blog. Say hi Sheila. )

(Sneaked this shot during my last class at Idioma)

(See look, I really do study!)

(This wouldn't be me and Tai at a tattoo shop would it?)

(This wouldn't be me getting more ink would it? I didn't think so!)

(Enjoying the new apartment...more pictures coming later)

(I've decided that if I don't have enough money to travel, at least I'm going to get to know this city. I will be making day excursions to popular sites around Salvador, from here on in. This is the famous Campo Grande Square.)

(This is me by the elevator that connects the cidade embaixo to the old part of town.)

(And this is a view from the ever glorious Pelourinho. I've seen it many times and it still takes my breath away.)

Crap...I'm spending a s*#t ton on the hotel internet. Will have to send more along later. Cheers!

Breaking the Bank

There is one problem concerning Brazil that I didn’t necessarily anticipate when first planning for this trip. No it’s not that the fact that the food is incredibly salt laden, or that everyone owns yapper dogs for the sole purpose of breaking me of my sanity. It’s not the daily annoyance of people asking for my money, or the unavoidable discomfort of public transport. Nay, these things I can deal with. These things are quite minor.

What really vexes me, irks me, and ruffles my feathers, is just how expensive everything is here. When I first visited Brazil back in 03, the dollar rained supreme—a testament to the empire-strikes-back resilience of the American economy. But now, with strain of military defense spending – as things move closer and closer to the shit house – my proud American greens aren’t holding up quite so strongly. The conversion rate steadily approaches 2 reais to every dollar—a marked increase from years past. This doesn’t look to bad, at first glance, but often merchandise and food here cost twice as many reais. All things considered, one ends up with a level playing field, and no advantage is afforded to my first world monetary status.

To make matters worse, my position within this Brazilian household continues to negatively influence my spending. Access to my host family kitchen is all but restricted, even when I offer to pay for utilities or gas. Every now and again, I’m able to heat up a plate of pasta, or nuke something in the microwave, but not without earning dirty looks from the “true” members of the household. Meals out have thus been so much easier, all too convenient and stress free. But as much as I’ve tried to avoid the really expensive places, eating out every day has taken its toll.

Now add my lifestyle variables to the mix, and one has a solid equation for instant poverty. Cell phone + over priced minute plan + pricy language school + girlfriend + weekly fieldtrips + lots of beer + living expenses + no income = a quick end to my money. And I do mean quick. Staring at my bank account yesterday, with my mouth hanging agape and tears in my eyes, I realized that a six month stay in Brazil just won’t be possible. Not only that, but three full months of language study would be equally impractical.

So it was with an empty purse in mind, and a need for hard and fast budgeting, that I put an end to the two most expensive things in my life: school and housing. Most students study at the school for two weeks, maybe three at most, and my plan for a full three months of courses was perhaps a bit unrealistic. Also, looking at my host stay bill, after doing a bit of research, I realized that renting an apartment would be in fact much cheaper. And in truth, I have become a bit fed up with my restricted freedoms within the house, and my family’s lack of desire to involve me in anything that they do (among other things).

So all together, this weeks book keeping has threatened a marked change in my lifestyle. With the aid of Taisa, who has been really quite incredible in helping me find a place of my own, I should soon acquire a Bahian apartment. And now that school is coming to a close, I will have more time on my hands and will be looking for work—volunteer or otherwise. Unfortunately, my basic Portuguese and “tourist” visa status will be my greatest roadblocks, for any work of the paid kind. My original plan was to do some volunteer work after school, and actually I have some great possibilities in that regard (more on that later), but I would to say the least prefer and income, with real money coming in! Just something to get me through the full six months anyway.

Aside from all of these business issues, and my now constant fear of becoming a street beggar asking for a centavo, just one centavo, I have really begun to enjoy my life here in Brazil. I feel a constant fulfillment by the fact that this reality is mine, that I made this trip happen through sheer will and force of my own. Before I left for Oklahoma, when I was living out my time in Michiganian purgatory, one of the main complaints that I had about my life was that I never “got out in the world”. Seeing the same old high school friends, the same old places, I felt like a failure for not having taken the initiative to get out there and live my own adventure. Now, I walk by a beautiful otherworldly beach everyday. I see the sway of the palm trees, and watch the movement of this strange place pass before me. And when I do, I have to thank myself—myself and the other the people that made this happen. I pat myself on the back and say, “Good job Aaron. Leo. Here you are. You did it. You’re living out your own adventure, and no one will ever be able to take this from you.”

However much time I am blessed with in Brazil, even if I am destined to return home early, or lose myself here for all time, I can at least come away with this feeling. That something beautiful steadily rose out of so much sadness, and that this, and this alone, is my own adventure.

Here are some complimentary pics of pre Carnival preparation, fun with the maids, and Taisa, Kazu, and I at the Barra beach drinking Skol and being happy:

(Getting ready to hit the streets, Carnival style)

(Gringo's are from Mars, Brazilians are from Venus)

(I walk by this mysterious little building on my way to school. I think it's abandoned and oh so creepy. )

(Hmm...upgrades. Taisa and I getting some sun.)

(This picture made me realize how white I had again become. It prompted me to hit the beach for three days in a row. I ham happy to report that I no longer look like a marshmellow.)

(There's nothing more classic than a Skol, the king of "bem geladas".)

(The facial expressions say it all.)

(I love this picture not for the overly passionate kiss, but for the gringo in the back ground staring at us doing it.)

(Shadow of the farol)

(My eye. Why I attach it here I'm not quite sure.)

Just some comings and goings...

I’m afraid that I’m still a bit burnt out from Carnival to want to write at length about it. Let me just say that it was massive, intense, an “explosão de cor e alegria” as promised by the citizens of Bahia. Highlights of my festival week include being steps away from Bono of U2, who partied it up near the Barra point lighthouse; getting waved at by Gilberto Gil, the famed musician and now minister of culture of Brazil; and finding, on one occasion, my now quasi girlfriend Tai amidst a crowd of millions. All romantic moments to be sure.

I wore a pair of light black and grey sneakers throughout the week, along with some polyester pants that I bought for Capoeira. They now occupy a dark corner of my room. Considering their present state, I’m thinking of throwing them away. They’re almost to dirty to look at or ever wear again. I would feel the same way if not for a week of showers and intense rest.

Strangely, after a month and a half of struggling through awkward moments and confused states, life here is beginning to become, of all things, normal. Getting this city wired, becoming adjusted to this new planet, this was really the first thing on my agenda. Figuring out where the buses run, how to pull cash out the bank, how to order out, these mundane tasks now slide past me with relative ease. I don’t have to go about my day sweating the small things, wondering how to communicate and interact with the world around me. It’s a relief to be sure, but also in a way a little less exciting.

My nights out have also definitely begun to diminish, as I continue slowly to dig myself into a routine. I am now content with staying home to watch a good movie on my laptop or to get some much needed rest. Aside from doing some writing, and working on a new tattoo that I’ve had in mind, the last few days have been quite free and uneventful. I took breakfast and lunch in the house, and went outside for walks every now and again. I’ve done some studying, some reading, and not much else. I feel like such an old man.

Last night, I headed out to the Rio Vermelho district to celebrate the birthday of my friend Sheila. The central praça of the neighborhood is just off the beach where a number of city streets converge. A small yellow church angled towards the main road divides the square into asymmetrical parts. Bars of varying quality line the edge, and large acarajé booth of famed appeal sits in the center. People come from all around to sample the fried shrimp and pepper laden dish made there. We sat just behind the booth at a small white plastic table, drinking cold beer and readying ourselves for cake and light conversation.

Arriving a tad bit early, I scanned the crowd for Tai and Kazu, anxious for them meet my friends and give Sheila her proper birthday dues. I had invited them earlier that day to come join in the fun. When I arrived, I brought with me a birthday cake substitute—a small donut covered in chocolate sprinkles with a pink candle on top. I was unsure whether the customary delicacy was going to be provided, and had to scramble around to various supermercados looking for something similar. Candles also proved hard to find, and I ended up with one that had the number three carved in wax on top of it. But hey, who doesn’t like to feel younger on their birthday.

Tai arrived just minutes after I sat down. As usual, her feminine charm resolved unremorsefully to take my breath away. She wore a delicately laced low cut top, a jean skirt, and cute little black shoes that drew more height to her walk. Large sea shell earrings dangled and swayed from her ears as she approached me in the crowd. The soft line of her chin and the wayward smile between were enough to invite supple kisses then and throughout the night. With her light voice playing in my ears, and with glasses raised and sweets to pass, I certainly didn’t want for lack of good company.

Having missed the last runs of city transport, I slept at Kazu’s lofty apartment that night. The view from his 20th floor balcony was incredible, offering vastly different images at dark and in the morning. With my head turned to the left I could just catch a glimpse of the breaking waters of the sea, either black or azure depending on the time of day. Following the skyline outward, endless shantytowns and apartment high rises came into view, with green space and concrete jungles weeding in between them. Black and white sidewalk stones patterned the rest of the ground. It was awe inspiring.

In the morning, I was woken by, what else, a boisterous informal football game being played out many floors below. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I spied the players moving briskly on a faded concrete court beside the apartment building. Most were bare foot, and all seemed intensely interested in what they were doing.

More later...