Motorized

Que Liberdade! What freedom! Thanks to a great deal of help from my brother back home, and a number of sweaty walks to the bank, to the moto shop, to all manor of locations, I finally have my wittle scooter. She is, hmmm, different than my FZ 1000cc monster back home. My first impression of the bike as I jumped on her little black seat and blasted myself through traffic, was a somewhat disheartened "Is that all?". Going from a 4 cylinder luxury vehicle to a 1 cylinder motorcycle has its psychological downsides. I do somehow feel less powerful. No heart pounding sensation of breaking through space and time. Yet, the roads have become my playground and I feel so very amused to travel where and when I please.

The sensations of Neguinha (little blacky) are entirely different than my FZ1. She seems to make much more noise and vibrate 10 times more than Josephine. She is a bit smaller (well, more than a bit), but maneuvers well in the Kamikaze no rules, no lines, Brazilian traffic. Driving here is like floating half blind through an asteroid field. It is necessary to predict peoples behavior as they tend to avoid communicating it through turn signals or break lights. As a motorcycle driver, there is no imaginary box of space given to you by other motorists. People creep into your space and expect you to move into the side line of the road. At a stop sign or a slowing line of traffic, it is also expected that you weave in between the line of slow cars to get to the front of the motor pack. I have avoided this, and only tend to cut my lines when all of the asteroids are completely at rest. People look at me, sitting behind cars, like I'm crazy. But F*ck it, I like staying alive.

Greatest part about it....I can go to the beach. I can go to school. I can just up and choose a location and go, independent of someone else's transport!

I had my cheap little Brazilian good luck charm recast in silver by a metalsmith at the craft fair. Cost me hardly anything, and the guy did a great job. The old one was wearing away and refused to become shiny when buffed or polished. Be it tattoos or jewelery, I love becoming a custom work of art.

And then there is school. My teacher training course at ACBEU is proving quite the scholarly affair. The place is indeed professional, my course being taught by an affable and literate Ph.D. of languages. It is interesting exploring the school vibe yet again. I have a number of papers to write, and teachers to impress, as this place is a top candidate for my employment services come the end of the semester. The money situation is scaring the crap out of me right now, as my costs are high and my income nonexistent. I have accepted the fact that it may be a few months before something surfaces. And with the potential Masters coming up in August, my time is going to get even more limited. But I trust that with a little bit of luck, hard work, and a desire to make this life get of the ground, I won't be homeless or destitute for too long anyway.