Drunk people!
Girl's with hot legs. Realmente.
Frenchee Friesee
Art for art's sake.
Gracinha.
Tattoos and mohawks!
A little forrozinho.
Old age setting in.
Shotguns.
Bailey's Irish F'in Cream!
Arrogent Schmucks.
The Godfather.
Pelourinho by Night. Vampires.
Cabs and cobblestones.
A famous french actor.
Contemplating cachaça
And damn good times. Leo e Vivi, nosso dia de gloria!
Vivi, celebrando seu aniversario....
Leo, um ano no Brasil e agora cidadão Brasileiro.... iupi!!!!!
ateliê de Bel Borba.
Então pelamordeDeus não deixe de comemorar conosco a nova idade...o mais novo brasileiro...o novo presidente...o novo ano...a nova crise...xiiii!
the flavors from home seem to taste better, not because they are made differently, but because they remind me of life back home. In the States, I was never a big fan of peanut butter. Here, peanut butter is a rare thing, a delicacy that not only tastes good, but that somehow defines me as American. When I bite into that processed caramel center, or that sugary vortex of peanuts, I am transported back home, and reminded who I really am.
Recently, my friend James brought me a care package of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Fat Tire Colorado beer. Oh my dear lordy lord. I ate two huge bags of the cereal in under two days. The Fat Tire, twas the most savory of them all. There is something about drinking piss beer for an entire year that makes real beer all the more glorious.
I challenge you to turn towards the universe, to feel your world about you. Take a deep breath and surrender. 
I have pictures! Many pictures to post! Unfortunately my digital camera got tanked, forcibly birthed into some other plane of existence. V and I went over to a friends house for Christmas eve, hoping to take lots of pictures. Unfortunately, the owner of the house ended up being kind of a racist bitch and was clearly not happy to have a white gringo in her house. As we sat contently drinking champagne, V got in a conversation with her about the black pride movement and its effect on racial tension in Brazil. V is crazy academic, and lectured for what seemed like a half an hour while she looked on. It was an interesting conversation, and I sat quietly soaking it in. I'll save the arguments for another post, but suffice to say the result of the conversation ended being my broken camera. Before I could do anything, the women got up from her chair, walked across the room picked up my camera and dropped it on the tile floor. She didn't say anything, not a whoops, a porra, or I'm sorry. She just stood there with a curios grin on her face, happy to have ended our talk in so dramatic a fashion.
There was this rock field of natural swimming pools, where the water roared under ground and swept up for us to play and swim.
And then we went hiking, only to see one waterfall after another. The crazy thing about Chapada is the diversity of natural sites. On just one hike, I saw three waterfalls, one well spring cave, one blue azul diving pond, one massive under ground cavern, and on and on and on. The place is a must if you plan to visit Bahia.
On New Years, we both got all pretty like and walked around the square.
Don't let my happy face fool you. I suffered a sever allergy attack on New Years and ending up spending the evening drinking champagne in my hotel room and feeling sorry for myself. I caught a few glimpses of fireworks somewhere in between sleep and my allergy stupor.
Had V take this photo because of the crazy house behind me. In the land of the poor, building codes don't exist, and the unplastered brick palaces are king.
This waterfall was a 200ft natural slide. Yeah!
Yes this is real. It's all about proper timing and maintaining a child like soul.
Crawling hundreds of feet underground, jumping around mesas, self-restoration in waterfalls. Nature is a beautiful thing.
money dancing with some scumbags. Despite the fact that I have returned to a small hole in the wall apartment, with hardly enough space to store my things, I am much much happier.I'm not going to say that moving to Vila B was a mistake. I learned a lot about the world in a short amount of time. But in the end, it was better to leave the rat nest to the rats. Let them feed of their dark energy and tumble into oblivion. I prefer my sunshine and a carefree Brazil.
So to feed my hungry public and make up for lost time, let me barrage you with a string of quick posts. My cannons are getting rusty, and its nigh time we lit the fuse.
Post #1
My new home! Small, noisy, over a bar. But kinda of cute in a O Pai O kind of sense. My place sits right off of Vila M, just a stones throw away from my hairdresser, my pharmacy, my restaurant, my bakery. I have returned to a world of convenience, and to a street that never sleeps. The only difficulty with living here is battling the noise at night. I fall asleep by putting ear plugs in, playing some music, and drugging myself if necessary. Even then, the occasional fight will break out downstairs, and I will crawl out of bed to watch the melee of cachaçeiros beating the shit out of each other. Good times
Along with the move, I have inherited a family of 8 children. My neighbor is crude animal of a man named Z, who doesn't know how to talk without yelling, and occasionally gets pissy and beats his wife. The place is a den of dysfunctionality, but I love the kids and have taken them in as my own. Not sure how it's genetically possible, but Z and his wife (who look worse for wear if you know what I mean) have created the cutest of children. Plus they have a puppy, and argh, god, breaks your little heart.
Post #2
I have become a sales man. I have turned in my non-profit tie for something a bit more flashy.
My work at Discover.Travel is become all consuming. I am working full, full, farkin full time,
and my world is becoming increasingly more routine and small. This month, I closed a huge trip and pulled in R$ 40,000. Sales are tough right now. The world is freaking out and no one wants to travel. I have to tip my hat to the few rich people who still have the money to do so. Without them, I'd be selling picole. So yeah.
Post # 3
You know you are in Brazil, when a fully accredited Catholic Priest comes to your work to bless the company. He arrived in his church attire. He had employees read passages from the bible. He sprinkled holy water on everyone, and I got some in my eye. It was pretty much the weirdest experience ever, and I'll have to devote a full post to it soon.
Post #4
I am training. I am busy busy busy busy. I am giving English classes after working all day. I am going to the gym and making my pecs bigger. I am hitting people with swords on the weekend. I feel like getting more tattoos. I wonder if my life is always going to be this busy, this strange. I wonder if I am a marginal, like a dirty sailor who is going to die with a lot of scars. Sometimes I feel like asking the world, do you think I'm weird? I already know the answer.
Post #5
I can't help but have a theme song. Every period of my life is defined by a style of music I was listening to at the time. In high school, I was an escapist, interested in parallel universes and avoiding reality. That was a Dead Can Dance era. I moved onto a full embrace of the human condition and started listening to Reggae. Now, I am a rocker, and feel like battling the world. I can't get this song out of my head:
It stays with me when I am fighting my way through traffic. What music defines you?
Post #6
Holy shit it's the end of the year. I have spent a year of my life in Brazil. This deserves to be marked, this requires a separate post. I shall gather my thoughts and get back to you.
Post #7
Ahhhhhh hahahahahahahahah! Don't make me throw another shoe at you.
Post #8
The Lions Den is back. Peace.
