Morning Thoughts

I woke up today staring up at the ceiling. My dreams were in English, the setting a world apart. Seeing the slanted red tile and the wood framing far above me, as my eyes slowly began to focus, it was only then that I remembered I was in Brazil.

I sit now in a tiny pousada room in the ocean village of Barra do Juco. A weed whacker is buzzing outside. The ocean breeze, carried not fifty meters off the beach, is playfully brushing my back. I’m listening to Afro Celt and methodically tonguing my teeth, hoping to dislodge the pieces bread affixed to my gums after my café de manha.

It feels good to write again. I got busy working on an article over the last few weeks, but it was all labor and no fun. I do prefer the freedom of my own thoughts, and the liberty to move in any direction as I descend the page. How fun it is to be the vessel through which other minds move.

Salvador passed behind me three days ago. The sweltering heat and constant hum of traffic was easily left behind; the pastel edifices, the friends and newly won familiarities were not. The hardest disconnection broke in my girlfriends eyes, when her delicate tears dropped from her face to the cold tile patterns of the bus station floor. All of life transitory, I reminded myself, all of it falls and passes on. Yet, even in this verity, I felt the sting of sadness as I turned my back and walked away. For the beauty that she shared with me, and the weighty reaffirmation that life is indeed worth living, I silently thanked her. Her smile and soft comforts will safely be guarded as little treasures, and the memories cherished and upheld as the best part of my trip.

As I get up and traverse each new day, the face of this country continues to change for me. It has moved from the once called undiscovered country—a heady and exotic place—to something a bit more mundane and close to reality. After four months, my Portuguese remains fairly basic. I am able to converse, to make jokes, flirt, and get by that which I need to get by. I lack wit and depth of thought, but have earned myself a voice. With this acquisition, and the constant realities I face in the day, I have begun to pick apart that which I expected would be and that which is.

Brazil is a beautiful country. The land is vast and green, the people given to a million shades. People love to sing here. They love to hold hands and kiss and live in the present moment. They are an emotional kind, and they drive, dance, and revel in this way. If you like sun and conversation, charged energy and a patriotic spirit, this is the country for you. To enjoy yourself, you must learn to deal with frustration. You must come to accept the failings of a clumsy bureaucracy. You must expect long lines at the bank, crowds and over flowing busses, beggars and street kids around every corner. You must hold tightly to your cell phone and your wallet, watch hungry looks and dark corners, and pray to god that random of violence and criminality does not strike at you.

We speak of freedom in the United States, freedom from oppression, freedom of religion, freedom from poverty. Living in Brazil, in a society which I believe is in fact much more free, I have come to understand that a great deal of our beloved liberty is born of control. People worry less here about the should of’s and have to’s. Stand or climb on what you will, no frivolous lawsuit will come to weigh you down. Signs, rules, direction, these are simply recommendations. Safety is a personal matter, and responsibility a choice. Sell what you want, even if it is copyrighted, build where you will, rob who you must. Here one can speak of greater independence.

In the end, freedom is choice, and will, and at its most unfettered level—chaos—opposing agendas and needs scrambling for gratification. Here you have less control, but more fear. Freedom of space yet more gates. Lovely liberated chaos. I suppose that which is better remains a personal choice. It’s just too bad that we don’t call our stars and stripes “freedom” for what it really is. Control can be a good thing, yet why all the pretenses?

But I digress. I only have about nine days left in Brazil. Before long, I will be in Oklahoma, back to the beautiful sunsets, waking up and wondering if it was all just a dream. Today I’ve got a meeting with the translation professor who lives in town. I’ll probably hit the beach, eat something fried, and drink some Skol. Barra do Juco is like a little surfing Mecca. My pousada is actually called the Koala Surf Motel and the owner’s son is a national champion. Life for me here is all about adventure, and I think I’m going to try and pick up some lessons from him. Then I’ll be off to Rio de Janeiro in a few days. Hang gliding off the giant rock domes is a city pastime, and if it’s not to expensive, I’m going to have to check that off the list.

In lue of more words, here are some random pictures to keep the kids entertained.

Hissss....growl....aggggg. I had a lot of interesting photos ready to post, but the damn upload isn't working on this comp. My apologies. I only got two out.

(Me and Taisa at the zoo. Who was the animal was questionable.)

(Just a short stroll from my pousada yielded this view. The city of Vitoria is to the right, just out of camera range. The place is like California with beach and mountains. It's really quite stunning.)