Techno-splat

I tried posting this super spectaculor post during carnival, but the internet was on the fritz.

Now I'm dealing with two broken laptops with little hope of recessitaiton.

Masters degree class is coming up in March, and I have little time to be digital. As soon as the head is above water, I'll try and get back to you. No promises or anything.

Reality Check #2

For all those glossy eyed idealists who dream of moving to Brazil, let me enlighten you. I made the grave mistake of picking up the calculator at work yesterday. It was a dumb idea.

Take my salary: R$1200 a month

Divide by number of days I work in a month: 24

Divide by current exchange rate of 2.3

Stare at calulator and yell "shit!": 1200/24/2.3 = 21

Yes, I have a college education, am smart, talented, disciplined, and a hard worker. I make $21 a day. (and don't forget, most things here in Brazil cost at least 3 times as much as in the States).

Ok, I know. I can't complain. There are many people here who make far less than that. Before my girlfriend was a teacher, she worked Sunday to Sunday, 8 hours every day, and made a whopping R$10 ($5) a day. I definitely feel that there are areas of my life that I compensate for my salary, such as getting the chance to learn a new language and enjoying the beach life on the weekends. Frankly in this shit economy, I am lucky to even HAVE a salary.

But jesus lord, the math!


I am posting the following photos to try and make myself feel better. Typical Brazilian internet humor.

Things You Missed

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.

Oh well. Maybe next year.

New Title

If my blog could have a Portuguese title, it would be this:

Desabafar!

This oddly sounding Portuguese word roughly translates as “to unburden”, “to get your feelings out”, “to free or relieve yourself of emotional stress or baggage”.

Gente, eu preciso desabafar! Eu estou mal!

People, I need talk! I feel horrible!

Desabafar is a perfect reflection of what this blog has always been to me. It is my therapy, my way to unwind and get my feelings out. Some people have commented on how good it is to read my blog when I am happy, and how difficult it is to slug through when I am sad. For the latter, I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do. Getting my words out simply feels too good, even when (no especially when) I am down!

A for the theme song…

Marcelo D2….take it away!

Venha

Venha comemorar conosco!

Leo e Vivi, nosso dia de gloria!

Vivi, celebrando seu aniversario....

Leo, um ano no Brasil e agora cidadão Brasileiro.... iupi!!!!!

Abriremos as portas do nosso bar para vocês amigos, neste sábado a partir das 18 h.

Café Alquimia, ladeira do Santo Antônio - Pelourinho. Ponto de referência: Ao lado do
ateliê de Bel Borba.

Pra quem não conhece segue o mapa do Pelô. O bar fica ali ó... no xis vermelho hehehe

Então pelamordeDeus não deixe de comemorar conosco a nova idade...o mais novo brasileiro...o novo presidente...o novo ano...a nova crise...xiiii!

Ganhei!!!

Exhalt on high, unite my beloved brethren of Brazil. It has happened!

What a day this has become!

After a year of looking over my shoulder…

After a year of living in the slums…

Of lost jobs and culture shock…

Of driving my little moto through the rain…

After robberies, and turn coats, and side swipes…

Of slamming the Portuguese into my brain…

I am a Brazilian!

…………………………………………………………………………………………
Dear Leo,

We are glad to inform that the Brazilian Courts issued a favorable decision and recognized your right to a Brazilian nationality.

Please note that this decision will be effective within 15 days. After this period, we shall take such decision and the notification of the Federal Court to the Register of Persons in order to register your birth certificate, which will allow you to issue all other documents with the Brazilian authorities as a Brazilian citizen (ID, CPF, Driver License, CTPS, NIT – Social Security, etc).

Kind regards,

Your Lawyer

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

Open a bank account, rent a movie, walk in/out of the country. There so much that I can do! But before, my dear brothers, time to tomar todas.

To celebrate I doth go!

I Eat Therefore I Am

There is something about being away from home that makes the tastes of home all the more glorious. Over the last few weeks I have been finding ways to satisfy my American palette. As much as I truly relish the sensual delicacies of Bahian cuisine—from a steaming pot of muqueca to your standard ration of feijão tropeiro, carne do sol, rice and vegetables—my tongue is panging for something else, something closer to home.


For the most part, I think that the typical American diet is a crime. While there is a greater variety of food options at our finger tips, most of them involve hyper processed foods, bread dipped in fat, over-saturated selections that lack any nourishment or appeal. Unlike the Brazilians who thrive on a diet rich in protein, vegetables, and carbs, Americans have no staple. If one could be named our staple is the franchise, the fast food nation, the industry of chemicals, Colonel Sanders, and fuck the French fries. The formula rings foul when what is cheap is accessible, and what is accessible is bad for you. Healthy natural unprocessed foods simply cost more, and there are few options when it comes to a reasonable diet.

That said, I continue to pang for some of my hometown favorites here in Brazil. Lately, I have fallen in love with munching on Twix bars, which I buy in a pharmacy close to work. Strangely, 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.

Outer-Spection

Do you ever sit down and think about your life—think about who you are and where your choices have taken you? Most of the time, we are so caught up in the stream of things, in the flow of routine and circumstance, that rush of white-water beyond our control. We get lost in the details of the day, in our own shallow trajectories, and wake up to find a year, a decade, a lifetime has passed us by. How marvelous it is to stop and think, relish the moment, breath in the crisp air and realize that we our in control. How good it feels to grasp that helm, to feel the texture of the wood beneath our fingers, to smile, turn the wheel, set sail towards a new horizon. Where would you like to go? Who do you want to become? The answer lies in your dreams, in that delicate instant between wakefulness and sleep, that space between and blink and a tear where the real has not yet been realized. Can we become the master of our own destinies? Do you know who you are?

I challenge you to turn towards the universe, to feel your world about you. Take a deep breath and surrender.

Open your eyes and see.

Restoration

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.

Anyway, my camera was an unecessary tradegy of racial tension but it happens. Luckily, my friend lent me a camera over the holiday and now I have something to show you!

V and I grabbed a motor coach to Lençois, an old miners town turned tourist trap in Chapada Diamintina about 8 hours away. This was my second journey to the national park, and the place continued to drop jaws and make me all happy to be alive.

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.

Anyway, happy belated holidays.

Ode to the Rock Gods

Rock gods of Portuguese that is. Sometimes I feel saudades for the hard pull, guitar pumping, emochonic metal scene back home. Rock in Brazil is alive, buried in pre-performance line ups and smokey filled bars. It hits home, every now again, in the screechy thralls of Pitty (prounced "pichee") and a Sepultura cat call or two. For the most part, Portuguese and leather pants are hard to mix. The language is just too melodic, and few bands find the fine balance of scream and sing, of melody and ballad with that "bahhhhhh!" purpose I so cherish and love. Many Brazilians think Guns & Roses was the high light of the rock scene, as if Axle Rose never turned into the the creepy plump guy you keep your children away from that he is. No, rock in Brazil is young, is still finding its sound, and miles away from Tool and Rage and the rest of the little devils paving the way. When I do find a tune I can bang my cabeça to, my respect will definitely head their way.