The Ins and the Outs

Whooooooo. Breath. I awake today with a rather nasty hangover, something I haven’t had for some time, so forget the flowery speech—we’ll see in what manner things come out of my head.

Ouch. Drink of water. Sigh. Ok.

These last few days have been a whirlwind. Hmmm, a whirlwind. No, I take that back. More like a roller coaster with a lot of disquieting ups and downs. At best, I have been profoundly moved by the beauty here. I have breathed in the incredible panorama of greenery and sea, my lungs full of salt air and romance. Turn around, and not one second later I have been saturated with ugliness—palpable, sharp, and distressing. I gravitate towards thoughts of never leaving, of working my way into this society, buying a little apartment and building a life. Then, before another second passes, I am shaken by the disorder, the traffic, the sharp division of the people. It is an interesting thing to taste, these intensities. But could I do it all the time?

Things all and all have been fun...but…wait.

Ouch. Drink. I don’t think I have the patience to do this in length. It’s like this:

High Moment—running around with my friend Ayda, meeting lots of people, eating amazing, amazing, unexplainably amazing food. Fejoida at her mothers house. Wow.

Low Moment—getting in a car. I have driven a lot. Ayda feels especially generous with her car after she has been drinking. This was fun, like barreling down a race track with no rules. Stop Lights, Pedestrians, cordiality? Mere suggestions. While I feel better behind the wheel than as a passenger, I still feel each and every time that I am going to die. And fuck man, people are sooooo, ahhhh, wtf. It’s quite possible.

High Moment—heading to the beach outside of the city. Eating crab, and little fish balls, and fried fish French fry like thingies; jumping into the warm embrace of the South Atlantic, staring in awe at the almost unimaginable scenery and the beautiful people that embrace it. I don’t know what god was thinking when he/she/it crafted these people, but they’re faces, breasts, pictorials, bodies, lips, smiles, etc, etc, are really quite unfair. I don’t generally feel unpretty, but at the present moment I feel kind of shafted.

Low Moment—getting locked out of my apartment. God made these people beautiful, but not very practical. Why does nothing work? Why is every fucking door fitted too loosely or too tightly? Why when things break do they tend to stay that way? Why, when a nice gringo gets locked out of his apartment (door jam) will the neighbors not help? Actually, I know why? Divisions. Safety. No one would open a door for some strange guy, cause in this society, it’s safe to believe that he is not very safe. Understood. But fuck, what’s a neighbor for if not that.

High Moment—having one of those beautiful interactions with Ayda’s young niece and nephew. One of those special moments, sitting around the living room playing guitar, talking about American and Brazilian music, laughing at the way things come out of each others mouths. When you are in a tribe (close kinship or social circle, going to write more about this later), you are really in. Friendship, kisses, hugs, it’s amazing.

Low Moment—why does everything cost so much? Gahhhhhh. I hate you George Bush.

High Moment—Brazilian hospitality. Like nothing you had, are, or will experience again. My cup is always full of beer, my plate a constant mass of piling food, it is incredible. In terms of welcoming a guest (again, if he is one of the tribe), they are masters. Simply put.

Low Moment—ok, sigh, last night. I have been never been so in the culture and yet so very separated from it. Now I hang with Brazilians, which is great, if they have the patience to interact with my shat ass language skills. But fuck, I have just put myself light years away from the savvy socialite play on words poet that I claim to be. I am Fez, on “That 70’s Show”, but not funny or likable. So I went out with a bunch of ridiculously beautiful and chic 20 somethings, clearly the “we are way cooler than you crowd”, and just failed miserably at being a relatable human being. I know how to play this crowd back home, have made a study of them because shoot…I like pretty ladies. But wow, the group ended up having a house party and I became that quiet guy in the corner that stairs at people and probably creeps them right the fuck out. No language skills = No interaction skills = No communication skills = Next to no flirting skills = A seeming lack of confidence = Beta, Beta, Beta = Why would I want to sit next to you let alone have your babies?

I hate not playing alpha. Hate, hate, hate, hate. Sigh.

Drink. My head hurts less. I’m going to get something to eat.