Coco-what? Errrr II

I have a job!

Yes ladies and gentlemen it has happened. Leo has gone corporate.

In one weeks time my lifestyle here
in Brazil has done a 180. After months
of struggling as a unemployed, twiddling my thumbs with too much time on my
hands, I have found a job. And not just any job, but a real live 9-5. Before I left the States I did an internship for an agency specializing in Cultural Heritage Tourism. I considered the field to be the perfect melding of my talents: (1) works good with people (2) enjoys foreign places and exotic travel (3) detail oriented (4) competitive (5) and for-profit. As much as I love the academic life, I became disenchanted with the non-profit lifestyle (i.e. work hard, make little), and was determined to find a career that would reward me for my labor.

About a week ago, an internship and a manager position was posted online for internet based Travel Company that specializes in custom built tours to South America. After doing a bit of research, I learned that the company was small, but quite impressive in its list of services (real estate solutions, travel solutions, web design, and translation). Essentially, it was a one stop shop for clients interested in real estate investment, travel, translation and web design in Latin America.

Fast forward a couple of interviews, and Leo had himself a contract. The company posted a manager position that required at least 8 years experience in tourism, which naturally I didn’t have, but I was determined to sell my skills and bid high. Having done the “intern” thing, I told them that I was ready for a bigger challenge and they agreed. For the next three months I’m on salary as an operations manager and sales tech. If I survive the next three months of work, then I become manager of the travel division, with around 8 employees under my wing.

The work itself is…..hmmm….odd. So different than my past experience. Essentially, I sit at a computer all day long. Because the company is small, our team has a thousand responsibilities. In an eight hour day, I end up playing the role of accountant, administrator, customer service guru, sales tech, and researcher. As if the multiple role thing wasn’t enough of a challenge, I have to do a great deal of my work in Portuguese, which is exceedingly difficult by the end of the day. When I get home my brain is fried.

So, yeah my life has changed. Who knows if it will last, but for now at least I have a steady income. I can return to my routine of going to the gym, of paying for my martial arts, of not freaking out when I buy groceries. I’m really interested in this tourism thing, and hope to continue digging myself into the industry while I complete my masters. I’m still going to have to live sparsely, as Brazilian salaries are MUCH MUCH less than a American salaries, but at least something….anything….is coming in.

Check out the links on the sidebar for my plug.

Away

I must admit that deep down I am a country boy. I grew up in Michigan, in a back woods landscape of snow and leaves. I grew up appreciating nature for its mystical qualities, for its ability to transfer the mundane into something wholly mysterious. For me, the forest was a place where I could exercise my imagination, unreservedly, where I could live out my own quests, adventures, and dreams.

For the first time in my life, I find myself living in the heart of a large city, in the center of hustle and traffic and stress. At times, the city becomes too much for me, the weight of its human drama, and I simply have to get away.

On just this very whim, Vivi and I took off this weekend, escaping to the island of Itaparica on the other side of the Bay. Our first night was spent in Mar Grande, where we roamed around the midnight streets, eating, drinking, and mingling with the holiday crowd. The next morning, we took off for ‘Sitio Alma Tropical’, a beautiful beachside estate owned by my friend Betulia. The place was just what we needed, a tropical paradise filled with animals, and greenery, and natural wonder. For any of you visiting Bahia, I heartily recommend a stay at one of their beach side bungalows, as it’s a wonderful place to rest up and rejuvenate the soul.

Click here: Sitio Alma Tropical

Ready to go. On the ferry boat ride.

The other side of Salvador.

Professora saluting.

Sitio Alma Tropical. Well, one beautiful corner anyway.

Full of fish.

And coconuts!

Smile Vivi.

We're in the jungle baby!


Keep gate closed.

Mist and shadows.

And here we go. Back accross the bay.

Hard Realities

So you want the truth do you? Sit down, have a seat.

Today we are going to address the question of the itinerant gringo. Why is it that foreigners from the US and Europe, who come to Brazil to try and make a life, end up going home?

Well, the answer is simple. Money and quality of life.

Here in Brazil, money is hard to come by. This is because:

The great majority of the population works for a measly $200 USD a month. The middle class exists, but only in times of plenty. When inflation takes off, the middle class fall back into poverty. In terms of Social-Darwinism and capitalism, a small bourgeoisie population and a massive army of poor does not exactly make for a strong economy.

This is because:

Less people with money = less consumption.

Less consumption = higher prices.

Higher prices = Low quality of life.

For the passing tourist, Brazil seems like a paradise. The climate is warm, the palm trees are plenty, the women exotic. With a pocket stuffed full of euros or dollars, the gringo feels rich and in control. Then, gringo experiences the formula:

1. Gringo falls in love with a local.
2. Gringo goes back to his boring rat-race existence in the real world, but has little success after tasting a little slice of paradise.
3. Gringo because enamored with his little slice of paradise, and in a fit of inspiration decides to throw away is cubicle existence to live in Brazil.

Whoo. Awesome. Great.

Fast forward six months.

Gringo sinks his teeth into reality. Gringo experiences his/her first bout as a native instead of the tourist. Gringo realizes that his income doesn’t get him very far. Gringo realizes that for the first time in life, he is poor. Gringo realizes that it is nearly impossible to get a job. Gringo realizes that the only people with money are working professionals (i.e. lawyers, doctors, engineers) who struggled up the professional ladder, or got into good schools because their families are rich. Gringo realizes that he is not rich, nor getting into a good school.

Gringo teaches English until he realizes that.

He/She is not making enough money to travel.

He /She is not making enough money to live in a safe and secure place.

He/She is not making enough money to enjoy hobbies, or see movies, or dine out (at least not with the same frequency as back home).

Gringo hits the wall, packs up, and moves home.

More truths:

--Most gringos that come to live comfortably in Brazil are retired (i.e. earned their money elsewhere) or work for international companies.
--Most gringos that I know live here illegally, marginally, and earn a very small living.

Not to say that these formulas apply to me, this is just what I continue to see.

Oh, gringoes. Don't say that I didn't warn you.

A little 'City of God'

I'm in my bedroom. Two minutes ago, I snapped these photos of the military police sniffing around my bairro.





I'm not going to lie. This shit makes me nervous. The police force in Salvador are under payed and over armed. When there is trouble in paradise, bullets fly. I so feel like 'Rocket' in the City of God, snapping pictures of the police from around the corner. Who knows, maybe it will boost my career in journalism. Maybe it will help me find a job.

I have a bed!

Slowly, day by day, my house is turning into a home. After sleeping on the floor and on thin mattresses for the last eight months, I finally decided to take the plunge and buy a real bed. It's amazing how luxurious such a simple thing feels after denying yourself the pleasure. No more soar hips and unnecessary back aches. Step by step, this cub is moving up in the world.

Love is the Death of Ego

When we come into this world, we come in fragile. We need people to care for us, to nurture us, to give us life. Before long, as we feel pain both real and imagined, both physical and emotional, we start to build walls. The savagery that is life, which takes without regret, begins to dig underneath our skin, and in response we toughen our whole exterior. This shell is our selfish gene, our disconnect from the world, our ego. The stronger our ego becomes, the less we ultimately feel.

I experienced a revelation this weekend, born of a horror I dare not forget. I experienced a moment where I thought I was going to die. Emergency rooms, blackness, thinness, demons, I saw the shell that is in me, this armor built black, made up of all my fears. And in that moment I saw my ego for what it truly was, and therein lay the key.

Love is the death of ego.

Love is the death of ego.

Love is the blessing beneath the shell. Love is inter-connectivity.
Love is light perfected. Without the other, there is no love. Without
the offer, no one could receive. To get you must give, and by giving you will obtain.

In this life, imperfect as it may be, there is nothing more worthy than to love and be loved.

The House and Things

Ok, I know. I need better material. It's just a trifle anyway.