Some days I wake up to the noise of my bairro popular, to happily tweeting birds, dancing palm fronds, and incessant cries of Jesus from the neighborhood evangelist, and I wonder what the hell I am doing here. At times I feel such an outsider, straining to laugh when people laugh, trying desperately to affirm my place in this vivacious culture. At times I think to myself, who in their right mind leaves a secure and happy life, a nice house, a dog, a beautiful motorcycle, to come live like this—alone in the slum, with little work, and few luxuries. And then, upon waking from my dream, I remember “Ah, yes, I do!”
As frustrated as I become at times—driving my little moto through the torrents of rain—I feel on a subconscious level that my work is not done here, that my presence is part of some greater scheme of self-development and maturity. I am here because I shouldn’t be anywhere else, because I want to be independent, because in the end I wish for nothing more than to challenge my crazy, self-styled adventurous 27 year old self.
Currently listening to...
So back from vacation, life moves on. July is a month without formal work, as in work in the paid kind that gets you places. All of the schools are on break, and I find myself spending a great deal of time at home, scribbling away on my final ACBEU project and papers. I admit to reaching a greater point of familiarity with Brazil, which in some respects is bad for my writing. I feel like things are become normal, that after having launched myself into another world I am become slowly accustomed to it. I struggle between the desire to remain anthropological—a participant observer with an outsiders view—and to become a red-blooded native, who knows how to take busses, order breakfast, and who feels at ease with his home land.
So back from vacation, life moves on. When away from homework, I find my time most pleasurably spent chasing women and doing martial arts. Things have gotten more serious with “the girl”, and yet they haven’t, which on some level has led me to a point of dissatisfaction and a yearning to open my eyes and look elsewhere. There are, my dear lord, so many beautiful, lithe, long haired vixens that grace my poetical path. Brazil is no yardstick short of attractive women, and I have only been hesitant because of my place in the middle ground, of not knowing if I want to desert my present “non-relationship” for another.
July has also been a month of returning to the fighting arts. Oh, how I have missed thee! I bought some Capoeira gear on Avenida Sete, and eventually forced myself back to practice almost a year after abandoning the post. I have avoided digging into Capoeira here for many reasons, but I think primarily because I am mourning the loss of my Capoeira social circle back in the States. Here I feel like an outsider, and the playing lacks a sense of camaraderie that I used to have.
To fill that gap I am very, very happy to announce the finding of a Kendo/Kenjitsu dojo here in Salvador. Kendo is a fighting art modeled on the war inclinations of the Samurai that involves full contact with Japanese bamboo swords and lots of yelling and getting sweaty with overly-serious men. It is just brilliant and something I have greatly missed since my fighting days in Michigan. I impressed the residing sempai with my crazy energy level and kiai, and he practically begged me to join the group at the end of class. Now I just have to get my armor and swords sent from the States, and I look forward, with a warrior’s glee, to many bouts and glories to come.
* * *
So back from vacation, life moves on. July is a month without formal work, as in work in the paid kind that gets you places. All of the schools are on break, and I find myself spending a great deal of time at home, scribbling away on my final ACBEU project and papers. I admit to reaching a greater point of familiarity with Brazil, which in some respects is bad for my writing. I feel like things are become normal, that after having launched myself into another world I am become slowly accustomed to it. I struggle between the desire to remain anthropological—a participant observer with an outsiders view—and to become a red-blooded native, who knows how to take busses, order breakfast, and who feels at ease with his home land.
So back from vacation, life moves on. When away from homework, I find my time most pleasurably spent chasing women and doing martial arts. Things have gotten more serious with “the girl”, and yet they haven’t, which on some level has led me to a point of dissatisfaction and a yearning to open my eyes and look elsewhere. There are, my dear lord, so many beautiful, lithe, long haired vixens that grace my poetical path. Brazil is no yardstick short of attractive women, and I have only been hesitant because of my place in the middle ground, of not knowing if I want to desert my present “non-relationship” for another.
Ahem. Check Please.
July has also been a month of returning to the fighting arts. Oh, how I have missed thee! I bought some Capoeira gear on Avenida Sete, and eventually forced myself back to practice almost a year after abandoning the post. I have avoided digging into Capoeira here for many reasons, but I think primarily because I am mourning the loss of my Capoeira social circle back in the States. Here I feel like an outsider, and the playing lacks a sense of camaraderie that I used to have.
Battle wounds after the first practice...
I can't walk.....ugh.
7 comments:
OWWWwwww. I knew that I sent you the healing hands earlier for a reason; I just didn't know what it was until I saw the skinned foot.
Interesting. In America, you played capoeira, and in Brazil you go back to Kendo. I wonder what you would practice if you went to Japan? ;)
I don't think you have to worry about losing your "outsider" or "anthropological" perspective. There appears to be a natural desire/ability to keep yourself on the fringes while immersing yourself in the culture. It's the ability to consciously focus in/out that will keep you sharp and able to observe in a way that will support your writing.
Keep with it, brother.
And put some salve on that foot already! eek.
"Interesting. In America, you played capoeira, and in Brazil you go back to Kendo. I wonder what you would practice if you went to Japan?" ;)
Brilliant, that has to be quoted! I think martial arts have always been a form of escape for me. In Boulder, I had all kinds of saudades for Brazil, and it was the perfect way to work out and play with a Brazilian-esque community.
Now that I'm in Brazil, I'm surrounded by Brazil, and Capoeira doesn't seem to have the same escape factor it once had. It doesn't mean I'm gonna stop though. I'd hate to have Larry come visit and totally bat me around.
So yeah, to answer the question: If I lived in Japan I'd practice baseball! hahahah
Thanks for the healing hands,
Leo
Ew, your foot is disgusting.
I know.
ah hah- now I know why you aren't showing up at Capoeira, and I'm not referring to the wound. Although it is quite unpleasant.
"Now I know why you aren't showing up to Capoeira, and I'm not referring to the wound"
hahaha
I feel your pain, Leo. I've studied everything I can get my hands on about Brazilian culture for close to 10 years and I'm still enamored with the brasileira...I'm O for 2 in that arena. Third time is a charm, right
Simply put, I call them my kryptonite.
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