Hair done did, Bahiana Style

Not that I know the official Portuguese name for this hairstyle, but it seems to be a Salvador exclusive.

I first took notice of this odd form of braiding when I landed here in 2006. Apparently the "do" is accomplished by weaving strands of fiber like cloth into one's natural hair. Length and color may vary, and usually are done in shades of black, blue, brown, or red. As I tend to be on the peacocky side of personal adornment, I will admit to a personal liking for this most alien and rockstar of hairstyles.

Having never actually seen someone go through the painful process of braiding their hair in this fashion, the procedure is rather a mystery. From what my girlfriend tells me (pictured here) the braiding takes her stylist three hours to complete, she gets it redone once a week, and it costs her a monthly average of a hundred reis. Quite a commitment from the man point of view, but you sure as hell won't find me complaining when the days cat walks are all said and done.

Indestructible

I awoke at 6...

I wracked my brain on papers till noon...

I thought I lost my credit and debit card and
spent two hours tearing my apartment apart trying to find them...

I pulled money out of the atm that should of stayed in the atm...

I found out that I probably won't be able to move into the house...

I rode the bus for an hour to school...

I stepped in a mud puddle soiling one of my two pairs of jeans...

I tried to ignore hate calls from my ex...

I realized that despite it all, Brazil, Brazil, Brazil, my soul remains indestructible.

I miss my sports.

Random thoughts for the day:

Hey, you remember way back when in those once upon a time days called college, when you stayed up late writing papers and eating Ramen noodles? Well those days have returned for me. My masters degree has started this week, and I find myself running to and from school, exercising my brain, and trying desperately to safely navigate rush hour traffic.

Quite naturally, I find myself stressed and looking for an outlet. Aside from the occasional beer or social outing with my girlfriend, I tend to de-pressurize with a friendly game/fight of Capoeira or Kendo. Unfortunately, both of these options are currently out of my reach. Capoeira, while cheap as dirt, still feels like an extra that I'm not read to financially commit to. Not until I have a steady work anyway. And the Kendo should hopefully start up as soon as I receive my equipment from the United States, which I pray finds its way through the mail. My armor is worth well over US $1500, and it's not too uncommon to have expensive items "lost" while en route to Brazil. I'm banking on the fact that these items are Japanese, and beyond the cultural scope of most post office employees.

Slow Motion Kendo Vid -- Very Nice

Awesome Vid of Capoeira Angola, Pasthina Style, circa 1963

I just realized watching these two videos that my girlfriend is a subtle reflection of my hobbies. She is an afro-brazilian who grew up in a Japanese neighborhood in Sao Paulo, and has both African and Japanese features (though the latter is merely by coincidence).

"Curiouser and curiouser" says Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole.

The Fixer-Upper

Alas, my days in Vila Matos are numbered. For the most part, the tree house apartment has been good to me. I know scores of new people. I have a bar, and a street, and neighborhood to call my own. I live cheaply and simply and it works.

But sometimes...

Out of the blue...

Life has other plans for you.

Meet my new residence, my new home. As it so happens, an American teacher at Panamerica built a little house in the favela off of Barra hill. After kicking it Brazilian style for a few years, she ended up returning to the States, and the house has been abandoned ever since.

When a few cats at the school caught word of my current living arrangement (i.e. iddy biddy
apartment with the bathroom in the kitchen) they thought of putting me here.

The arrangement works out rather nicely. The place is empty and falling apart. Without a watchdog, the place continues to get dirtier and dirtier, not to mention broken into.


Here comes little gringo me, with interior decoration tendencies. They get security of mind, and a person to clean and fix stuff up. I get a huge fixer-up project, and a potentially legitimate crash pad with an amazing view.

See!

Now don't get me wrong. The place is BASIC and all kinds of favela like, but there is tons of space (even if it is covered by dirt).

The place needs: new locks, security measures, gutters, and a new roof. But I am happy to say that I have fixed my not having a refrigerator problem, cause this place comes fully stocked!

Previous tenant artifacts.

Pimped out entryway. I want to do much more of this, perhaps fill the place with Bahian art. Maybe furniture if I ever have a paycheck.

Scary mold pattern in the kitchen.

Bedroom window.

And this. This is Bob. I knew the place was for me when I saw this poster. With Bob's blessing my Exodus feels fully endorsed. It'll need a few months of work, people, but just think of the parties we could have!

Centennial!

Happy Birthday oh’ blog of mine! Four years in and we have
reached our 100th Post! Cue the lights. Open the champagne.
To the great republic we sing, oh what a journey it has been!

2005…seems worlds away now. I started this blog in the depressive throes of a breakup, after a complete toss up of my little rubik’s cube of a life. This blog was a much needed therapeutic discovery, an emotional distancing tool that allowed me to “get shit out”. Somehow, through multiple trips, both inward and outward journeys, she was maintained, a brilliant star and testament to the lemmings running around in my head.

To my audience, thank you for traveling with me. The only question left to ask is:

Shall we go another one hundred? Shall we leave my great grandchildren a road map to their ancestor’s life. Hmmm, perhaps. There are still many pages yet to fill.

The Evolution of Self, A four year Journey

The fork that started it all.

Ready to get out of Kalamazoo.

Working to do so.


The Move

Oklahoma. Out of the ashes the phoenix rises.

Rebirth in Brazil.

Pit Stop Mars

Back to Michigan

Move to D.C.


Escape to Boulder, CO.



Nesting in New Mexico.

Rome, Switzerland, Prague, Ireland

Back to Michigan

Oklahoma.....againnnnn.

And Brazil!

If it's more the journey than the destination, where shall we go from here?

Happy 100 Lion's Den!

Sigh

I think this is the first time since I was like 12 that I haven’t had a job. I am now into the third month without work and am starting to flip out. I survived the first few months in Brazil by subbing for a local school and by dipping into my savings. The pay was good but far from steady, as I had to wait for someone to get sick for them to call me in. On the English teaching side of things, I had hoped that I could get a job at ACBEU after completing their six month training course. I knew it was risky as I would be paying for work and not earning from it, but decided after hearing from a number of sources that I would probably get hired to take the plunge. I really worked my ass off, crossing my t’s and dotting my i’s, smiling to all of the right people. Well, come to find out they aren’t hiring this semester, so bye bye gringo. Another roll of snake eyes for me.

Until I can get my citizenship in the next (praying to god) 5 months, there are few options open to me. I have already been offered a job but lost it because of my visa status. Things are further complicated by the Master’s degree schedule, which blocks off evenings and makes it difficult to seek work in a language school. Add to that fact that because I am not an employee at the school where the program is held (out of 25 people I am the only one) the price has jumped an unanticipated R$ 375 to US$ 550 per class.

In terms of private English classes, I continue to find that it’s for the birds. It’s good when my students show up, and, you know, pay, but private arrangements are so much less formal and the students less committed to show.

I expect that after I get citizenship maybe, just maybe things will start to ease up. If I can get work at the school, then maybe I can get a paycheck, and just maybe I can go out and buy a pair of jeans.

Until then…well. I went out and bought a stapler today. It cost R$20 (due to the third world haha-stay poor-fuck you tax). Until then I survive.

I tell ya [shakes fist at the sky]. Sometimes living the adventurous life has its disadvantages.

Which side of the hedge are you on?

Branquinho

Or....little whitey. How many of us in the states can say that we are a racial minority. Very few of the people I know. In fact, my family could be categorized as "typically white", which in the absence of proper stereotypes equates to tall, reserved, Nordic people that have no idea how to dance.

In anthropology, we tend to de-emphasize notions of color, recognizing that we are 99.9% similar in our genetic material, and that our behavior and customs are best described in terms of the ideological web (i.e. culture) that we weave around ourselves. Race, as a whole, is considered a false and misleading construct, often used to justify and perpetuate social and economic inequity against “inferior” groups.

I for one recognize the issue as complex, and have always enjoyed being a part of the discussion. As an undergraduate, I was the lead researcher for an African American Society, spending a great deal of my weekend’s sleuthing away in the archives of segregated North Kalamazoo. Heading to a meeting of brilliant empowered black professionals, while at the same time getting the "What in the hell are you doing here white boy?" reaction from local residents, what just a typical part of my foot in both worlds existence.

As it stands, I have always been interested in the African Experience, especially in regards to the Trans-Atlantic slave trade, (1400-1896) which brought millions of Africans to the shores of the New World. The story is, in my humble opinion, just incredibly sad and gripping. Of the many economic and social horrors it has produced, which most certainly are still felt to this day, I also find it to have generated some of the most creative and inspiring forms of art, such as Bob Marley’s roots, rock, reggae, Jazz, Hip-Hop, and Capoeira. Despite the absence of melanin in my skin, I seem to identify with this side of life, that struggles against all odds and comes out spiritually unbound.

In Salvador, the vestiges of the slave trade, from a country that imported more slaves than all others (roughly 14 million) and kept it legal for longer (1888) are so viscerally felt and heard. I went to a sushi joint by my house the other day, and noticed that despite the fact that Salvador is 80% black, 98% of the clientele were white (that is except for the servers and the folks in my party). Despite the fact that Brazil maintains its status as a mixed society, in terms of economics there has been little progress made.

(Hmm....Salvador. Do I stand out much?)

These are serious issues, with no easy answers. My approach is to understand the gravity of our social complexities, yet to realize that life is often too short to be taken too seriously (i.e. Stuff White People Like). Enjoy people for their differences, embrace your cultural roots and heritage (white, black, or other), and recognize that we are all people on this earth, trying to figure things out and make our own way

Conscious Hip-Hop, pretty much the most amazing thing ever:

Divertir

A couple of days ago, I decided to descend the steps of my “tree house” apartment and take a walk. It was just after mid-day, and I was tired of being cooped up inside. Before stepping out, I slipped on some minimalist tropical gear—my board shorts, haviana sandals, and sun block to discourage a tan. Heading east out of Vila Matos, I started trekking along the beach front. It was a Sunday, and the sand was packed with soccer matches, sunbathers, and kids playing along the shore.

About five minutes into my walk, I noticed some tiny steps that lead up a hill opposite the beach. I took a look at the trail suspiciously. The foliage was dense and the destination unfamiliar, and I was a bit worried about being assaulted or robbed should I decide to ascend. On the side of the trail hidden amidst the rocks were small candomble offerings of flowers, food, and gifts—a bequest to the African gods that still rule the heart of this syncretic city. Reining in my courage, I eventually set forth into the greenery and started climbing into the unknown.

As part of my typical Brazilian street or nighttime routine, I removed my shirt to display my tattoos. I have noticed that looking men in the eye, walking upright, and showing my bee stripes (i.e. tribal ink) has kept me out of trouble. In an inner-city environment, it is important remain alpha, especially in sketchy night time situations. Put simply, unless a thief is exceedingly well armed, they tend to prey on the weak. Looking like you could be trouble is a way to avoid falling into it, and I continue to develop this survival tactic on the streets of Brazil.

After having gotten lost on a number of trailheads, I eventually made my way to the top of the hill. At about three hundred feet above sea level the view was just stunning, a stark compilation of sea breeze, sunshine, and city lines. I realized, smiling to myself, that life is the pathway to awe, a gift worth breathing in to the very last molecule.

Looking east towards Africa, I thought about the last six months I have spent in Brazil. I realized that things are beginning to change for me, that I am starting to enjoy this new world that I have made for myself on the edge of the South Atlantic. The initial shock of moving to a foreign country has slowly begun to ware off, replaced by newly won friendships, a greater handle on Portuguese, and a contentment with my subsistence in this land. I still worry about landing the right job, finding the right girl, and being the right person, but I realize now that such things are possible, and that with time my world here is only going to get bigger.

Colbert Report on Latin America and Brazil. For some reason I can't embed this, so check out the link here:

Watch Me

Hilarious!