Well the impossible happened. Don't look at me, I had nothing to do with it. Or did I?
Sunday, January 30
Monday, January 10
Fresh Eyes
After three long years my parents have finally come to visit me. It was a great thing to see them hobble out of the arrival gate at the airport and walk into the madness of Salvador. I am already a tad bit exhausted from playing tour guide, and a tad bit sick, so I am going to post some of my dad's musings on his experience here. It is great to see this environment through fresh eyes. My blog has lost some of this excitement--the thrill of fresh experience like seeing a shiny thing for the first time. I have been trying to convince my dad to start writing a blog. Perhaps you readers could do a better job.
"Just a quick mishmash of the experience so far. Way intense and rich here. Son Aaron (aka Leo) and girlfriend Vivi have been high;y educated, bi-lingual hosts. They have two apartments side by side. Claire and I have had the run of one. Situated atop a honeycomb of structures that make up this Rio Vermelho neighborhood, on a hill, we look down at the Atlantic ocean and across to the apartments of the uber riche. Down below is a sea of sound, of pulsating life. Always there is sound, and always the unexpected happens in a din. Who needs TV when you can just look out the window? And in those windows blows a nice breeze of the Atlantic, providing a cool breeze to attenuate the tropical heat. We awake in the protection of our little hole, then venture out into the intensity that is urban Brazil. We return, take a shower (several a day), then nap.
Time here is not like home or even North America. It is stretched out longer. This is not Germany, where pedestrians tend to walk fast to get from A to B. This is Brazil in the tropics. More like you go from A, but get to K, with all these letters in between to experience. So much to draw one out from simply getting lost in one's own head and have the days go by like a quick shuffle of cards.
Brazil is SO not-me. OCD-like analness seems to have been bred mostly out of these people (exception: shopping mall things that imply wealth). Thus constitutes an ideal vacation environment. The contrasts here is very high. A slum next to walled unobtanium apartments. Dogs sleeping among trash next to the public urinal - a wall, while the well-dressed stroll by without a thought for the trash, dogs, or urine. Live and let live. And everywhere people hang out, socialize, sometimes with song and dance. My tendency to want to fix things is here washed over by a tsunami of imperfection. It doesn't bother the Brazilians so much, so I take the hint and relax. Manhole cover off? Not to worry. The kids and granny will just step around it after missing the dog turds.
Brazil economically is protectionist. If it's imported it's way expensive. If it's made here despite low labor costs, it's still expensive. The upper level of society here makes money to an extent hard to imagine. The shopping mall we visited was packed full of people greedily paying way too much for every item. That photo of the shoe store only shows the edge of the crowd! I've never seen crowd like that on an ordinary day in a US shopping mall. There is a lot of money flowing around here, yet by proportion there isn't a broad middle class. Brazilians just breed too fast for the availability of resources to catch up. Despite being generally poor, Brazilians are among the most content people I've experienced. Lenin, Stalin, Hitler, Pol Pot, and Jesse Jackson could stand on street corners all day ranting and raving, and they'd be ignored as just art of freak show of life. Very hard to make these people go to war over anything.
Back to economics. The photo of fuel prices at a fuel station shows centavos (cents), so move decimal places two places left to convert to their currency, Reis (pronounced hay-ice). One Reis is 0.59 dollars, thus premium gasoline here is R2.82/liter or $1.62/liter. That's about 6 bucks a gallon. Lots of fuel choices here too. I think the ethanol option may be pure ethanol (haven't confirmed that yet), and the gasoline - premium, might not have any ethanol. Buses and many small trucks use diesel, and the taxis get their fuel, compressed natural gas or CNG somewhere other than the typical fuel stations.
Speaking of buses, every time you step on a bus, no matter how far you go, it's R2.50 for the body-jossling bus and R3.00 for air conditioning and a little less abuse. Ride the bus 10 times in a day and you've knocked off R250! The buses are very fast and jerky. If you stand up and don't hold on firmly, you will be tossed to the opposite side without forewarning. The drivers barrel through intersections. Whatever gets in the way is simply injured or dead, and that happens a lot here. Be on guard or die, simple as that. Yet many Brazilians I saw had really no thought for what they turn their backs on. A fellow might be leaning against a car window talking animatedly to a friend with his butt hung way out in the street. A barreling bus will miss his ass by a centimeter, yet he'll not notice. Perhaps this comes with a high breeding rate? Some genetic trigger goes off that says, "There will always be more Brazilians - I'll not worry so much about staying alive."
The vast majority of motorcycles are 125-250cc and whisper quiet (stock exhausts). All are gasoline and 4 strokes. The dominant format is practical: standard or dual sport. I have yet to see one obnoxiously loud Harley, or even a quiet one. Probably because it would cost $125,000. The only cruiser I saw was a VW Beetle converted to a trike.
Leo used to have one of these 250s, until too many personal near-death experiences and observing many motorcyclists turned road pizza. Last night as we were walking back from a night on the city, we saw one down, flat on his back, unconscious and staring up. The ambulance had turn the wrong way and headed away from the accident scene. At least he was in one piece. I want to stay and rubber neck, but Vivi didn't want to hand around because her brother had recently gotten attacked by a delivery truck, after it had cut off and he took off his helmet to bash the mirror off.
I did see sport bikes (crotch rockets). Very few however as they cost ten times more than in the US. You have to have a serious case of hyper testosterone to get one of these. Sometimes groups of them will go out at night to race around on the emptier streets.
More economics: The running shoes I buy for $65 and repeatedly wear out sell for $500 here! A run-of-mill boom box we can buy at a garage sale for $25? How about $1,000 at the shopping mall here. Brazilians get the most out of them though. They'll run the volume up to where the speakers move around. As a result of the high prices, goods afforded by the masses, from faucets to fans tend to be rather cheaply built. Our apartment front door would pass for a shower door in the US. A thin aluminum and single-pan glass thing you can hear everything through.
I have been amazed about the buildings here. Masonry and concrete, but very lightly constructed. They have no seismic history and thus not much in the way of codes. A big earthquake here would would result in fatalities rates worse than Port au Prince Haiti. They build the same way for the 1st story as the 5th. Spindly columns of concrete with four 10mm bars, thin cast concrete floors (look at the thickness of the stairs in the photo), then back fill with 4X6X10" hollow fire brick. The poor neighborhoods are a honeycomb structure of this stuff, like a giant buzzing hive. They might begin with one story with spindly 10mm steel bar steel reinforcement sticking out for many years in anticipation of the second story. If one of the kids trips and gets skewered... well, that's just life. Decades later it'll be 4 stories, with access, walkways, balconies, stairways, and doors as somewhat an afterthought. The roof might get finished off with a covering, or it might remain open, with no edge. Fall off and that's all she wrote. It's scary and entirely wonderful be visiting a society free from safety phobias and tort lawyers. Dogs wander everywhere, yet I have yet to see any of them end up as road pizza. The dumb ones here aren't protected from their owners or laws. They just get taken out of the gene pool.
There is a prosthetics and orthotics shop just down the hill from the apartment. I plan to bumble through a visit with Leo the translator. There is an O&P market here. Is superior technology could be brought in at what is to them a reasonable price, the volume of business could be substantial.
This is a very religious place. Lots of various forms of evangelical Christanity, some quite in your face (like the sign on the path up to the apartment you see in the photo). I see many churches,and lots of missions. So far I have not seen a dynamic Catholicism, though it was long established (since 1501). Catholic churches everywhere, so I suspect I'll see more than just tourists about. Jehova's Witnesses have a strong presence here. African paganism is very active. People dress in white, sacrifice chickens, beat drums, and party at all hours with fireworks to honor various gods. Right now the sea god is being honored. Last night late in religious zeal someone lit exploding rockets that shot up from the house below and blew up right outside our bedroom window. We almost soiled the bed.
I've been starved for good beer here. Everything is piss lager that is even weaker than in the US, amazingly. You can drink several beers and nothing happens. Refreshing when hot and good for business. Probably a good thing as the generally skinny folk here with little beer bellies, should they have something more powerful, would be engaged in even more mayhem.
We aim to survive this and be all the richer in experiences.
Well that's all my brain can handle at present.
-Chris"
"Just a quick mishmash of the experience so far. Way intense and rich here. Son Aaron (aka Leo) and girlfriend Vivi have been high;y educated, bi-lingual hosts. They have two apartments side by side. Claire and I have had the run of one. Situated atop a honeycomb of structures that make up this Rio Vermelho neighborhood, on a hill, we look down at the Atlantic ocean and across to the apartments of the uber riche. Down below is a sea of sound, of pulsating life. Always there is sound, and always the unexpected happens in a din. Who needs TV when you can just look out the window? And in those windows blows a nice breeze of the Atlantic, providing a cool breeze to attenuate the tropical heat. We awake in the protection of our little hole, then venture out into the intensity that is urban Brazil. We return, take a shower (several a day), then nap.
Time here is not like home or even North America. It is stretched out longer. This is not Germany, where pedestrians tend to walk fast to get from A to B. This is Brazil in the tropics. More like you go from A, but get to K, with all these letters in between to experience. So much to draw one out from simply getting lost in one's own head and have the days go by like a quick shuffle of cards.
Brazil is SO not-me. OCD-like analness seems to have been bred mostly out of these people (exception: shopping mall things that imply wealth). Thus constitutes an ideal vacation environment. The contrasts here is very high. A slum next to walled unobtanium apartments. Dogs sleeping among trash next to the public urinal - a wall, while the well-dressed stroll by without a thought for the trash, dogs, or urine. Live and let live. And everywhere people hang out, socialize, sometimes with song and dance. My tendency to want to fix things is here washed over by a tsunami of imperfection. It doesn't bother the Brazilians so much, so I take the hint and relax. Manhole cover off? Not to worry. The kids and granny will just step around it after missing the dog turds.
Brazil economically is protectionist. If it's imported it's way expensive. If it's made here despite low labor costs, it's still expensive. The upper level of society here makes money to an extent hard to imagine. The shopping mall we visited was packed full of people greedily paying way too much for every item. That photo of the shoe store only shows the edge of the crowd! I've never seen crowd like that on an ordinary day in a US shopping mall. There is a lot of money flowing around here, yet by proportion there isn't a broad middle class. Brazilians just breed too fast for the availability of resources to catch up. Despite being generally poor, Brazilians are among the most content people I've experienced. Lenin, Stalin, Hitler, Pol Pot, and Jesse Jackson could stand on street corners all day ranting and raving, and they'd be ignored as just art of freak show of life. Very hard to make these people go to war over anything.
Back to economics. The photo of fuel prices at a fuel station shows centavos (cents), so move decimal places two places left to convert to their currency, Reis (pronounced hay-ice). One Reis is 0.59 dollars, thus premium gasoline here is R2.82/liter or $1.62/liter. That's about 6 bucks a gallon. Lots of fuel choices here too. I think the ethanol option may be pure ethanol (haven't confirmed that yet), and the gasoline - premium, might not have any ethanol. Buses and many small trucks use diesel, and the taxis get their fuel, compressed natural gas or CNG somewhere other than the typical fuel stations.
Speaking of buses, every time you step on a bus, no matter how far you go, it's R2.50 for the body-jossling bus and R3.00 for air conditioning and a little less abuse. Ride the bus 10 times in a day and you've knocked off R250! The buses are very fast and jerky. If you stand up and don't hold on firmly, you will be tossed to the opposite side without forewarning. The drivers barrel through intersections. Whatever gets in the way is simply injured or dead, and that happens a lot here. Be on guard or die, simple as that. Yet many Brazilians I saw had really no thought for what they turn their backs on. A fellow might be leaning against a car window talking animatedly to a friend with his butt hung way out in the street. A barreling bus will miss his ass by a centimeter, yet he'll not notice. Perhaps this comes with a high breeding rate? Some genetic trigger goes off that says, "There will always be more Brazilians - I'll not worry so much about staying alive."
The vast majority of motorcycles are 125-250cc and whisper quiet (stock exhausts). All are gasoline and 4 strokes. The dominant format is practical: standard or dual sport. I have yet to see one obnoxiously loud Harley, or even a quiet one. Probably because it would cost $125,000. The only cruiser I saw was a VW Beetle converted to a trike.
Leo used to have one of these 250s, until too many personal near-death experiences and observing many motorcyclists turned road pizza. Last night as we were walking back from a night on the city, we saw one down, flat on his back, unconscious and staring up. The ambulance had turn the wrong way and headed away from the accident scene. At least he was in one piece. I want to stay and rubber neck, but Vivi didn't want to hand around because her brother had recently gotten attacked by a delivery truck, after it had cut off and he took off his helmet to bash the mirror off.
I did see sport bikes (crotch rockets). Very few however as they cost ten times more than in the US. You have to have a serious case of hyper testosterone to get one of these. Sometimes groups of them will go out at night to race around on the emptier streets.
More economics: The running shoes I buy for $65 and repeatedly wear out sell for $500 here! A run-of-mill boom box we can buy at a garage sale for $25? How about $1,000 at the shopping mall here. Brazilians get the most out of them though. They'll run the volume up to where the speakers move around. As a result of the high prices, goods afforded by the masses, from faucets to fans tend to be rather cheaply built. Our apartment front door would pass for a shower door in the US. A thin aluminum and single-pan glass thing you can hear everything through.
I have been amazed about the buildings here. Masonry and concrete, but very lightly constructed. They have no seismic history and thus not much in the way of codes. A big earthquake here would would result in fatalities rates worse than Port au Prince Haiti. They build the same way for the 1st story as the 5th. Spindly columns of concrete with four 10mm bars, thin cast concrete floors (look at the thickness of the stairs in the photo), then back fill with 4X6X10" hollow fire brick. The poor neighborhoods are a honeycomb structure of this stuff, like a giant buzzing hive. They might begin with one story with spindly 10mm steel bar steel reinforcement sticking out for many years in anticipation of the second story. If one of the kids trips and gets skewered... well, that's just life. Decades later it'll be 4 stories, with access, walkways, balconies, stairways, and doors as somewhat an afterthought. The roof might get finished off with a covering, or it might remain open, with no edge. Fall off and that's all she wrote. It's scary and entirely wonderful be visiting a society free from safety phobias and tort lawyers. Dogs wander everywhere, yet I have yet to see any of them end up as road pizza. The dumb ones here aren't protected from their owners or laws. They just get taken out of the gene pool.
There is a prosthetics and orthotics shop just down the hill from the apartment. I plan to bumble through a visit with Leo the translator. There is an O&P market here. Is superior technology could be brought in at what is to them a reasonable price, the volume of business could be substantial.
This is a very religious place. Lots of various forms of evangelical Christanity, some quite in your face (like the sign on the path up to the apartment you see in the photo). I see many churches,and lots of missions. So far I have not seen a dynamic Catholicism, though it was long established (since 1501). Catholic churches everywhere, so I suspect I'll see more than just tourists about. Jehova's Witnesses have a strong presence here. African paganism is very active. People dress in white, sacrifice chickens, beat drums, and party at all hours with fireworks to honor various gods. Right now the sea god is being honored. Last night late in religious zeal someone lit exploding rockets that shot up from the house below and blew up right outside our bedroom window. We almost soiled the bed.
I've been starved for good beer here. Everything is piss lager that is even weaker than in the US, amazingly. You can drink several beers and nothing happens. Refreshing when hot and good for business. Probably a good thing as the generally skinny folk here with little beer bellies, should they have something more powerful, would be engaged in even more mayhem.
We aim to survive this and be all the richer in experiences.
Well that's all my brain can handle at present.
-Chris"
Thursday, January 6
Tuesday, January 4
106
106. That’s quite a figure. 106 is the number of Brazilians who died this last weekend in traffic accidents on the country’s roads. Three short days, Friday to Saturday, is all it took for 106 people to wipe themselves out of existence. Hundreds more lie in critical condition in local area hospitals, wondering how they will recover. The worst part about this number, which I caught on the news, is that it is by no means a statistical anomaly.
Brazil has one of the highest rates of car accident fatalities in the Americas with 24.2 killed in crashes per 100,000 members of the population. Brazil ranks third in the world with the worst road death rate per person, just behind El Salvador and the Dominican Republic. Crashes claim over 35,000 lives despite a federal campaign to educate the public on road safety.
“Just ask Carolina Amorim about that split second a dozen years ago that she would give anything to have back, as the 30-year-old journalist may never recover emotionally from the car accident that claimed the life of her then-boyfriend Alexandre Cabeda Egger Moellwald in Porto Alegre in 1998. In one fateful moment, Amorim went from preparing to marry the man of her dreams to seeing him taken from her forever – all because a motorist made an illegal turn, causing the couple's vehicle to crash into a street light. Moellwald was clinging to life when he arrived at the hospital, but he never woke up. The trauma sent Amorim into a downward spiral, as she became sick and anorexic, her weight dropping to a frail 39 kilograms (86 pounds).”
Driving on these roads, especially on a motorcycle, had me scared from the beginning. Road conditions are dismal, requiring one to stay alert to large potholes, small or nonexistent shoulders, and badly designed roadways (more turn lanes please). These infrastructure shortfalls are compounded by the fact that there are little to no police enforcing traffic laws. Speed radars and "agentes de trânsito" just don’t seem to have much effect.
But I think the problem goes much further than this. The problem with Brazilian traffic fatalities is less a physical and more of a mental one. There is a strange phenomenon that exists in this country which I don’t see as much in the United States. It is a question of social structure. In Brazil, when someone has established a connection to your immediate family, you will fight tooth and nail for them. A sense of camaraderie is very strong here, and extends to friends and distant relatives. The plus side to this is that people will rally to an allies cause. If you are hurt in the hospital, just watch how many friends will show up offering aid. People will call their people who will call their people who will make sure that you get decent care! But the downside to this is that, if you aren’t part of that immediate social circle, well then fuck you. You are dirt underneath my toes. This mentality extends to all aspects of public life, including the political scene and the inherent corruption within. Who you know is everything because being known is how you earn respect.
This strange mental philosophy, what I would call the ‘law of the jungle’, manifests itself most brutally on the Brazilian roads. Before a Brazilian gets in a car they can be the friendliest person in the world. But as soon as they set foot into that thin plastic and metal bubble, separating them from their immediate social reality, they become little testosterone induced dictators, willing to off just about anybody who would disrespect them or get in their way (ask me if pedestrians have right of way in this country).
On many occasions I have been scared out of my mind getting into a friend's or taxi driver's car. The worst episode happened just a week ago when my friends and I were returning from Praia do Forte (a local resort town). We got into a small transport van returning us to the city. The driver was trying to compete with another van for passengers, screaming ahead on the double lane road in an effort to get to the next bus stop before the other van did. It was an hour and a half of sheer terror, of passing on blind corners, and I am still kicking myself for not being responsible and getting off when I knew I should have. The funny thing was, most of the Brazilians on the bus were acting like it was the most normal thing in the world. I wanted to scream at them that THIS NOT NORMAL! THIS SHIT WILL GET YOU KILLED!
For personal friends and authorities, I do have some suggestions:
1. Please, please, please, have seat belts available in the back seat for your passengers. Most people bury the release connector because seat belts are just not what they do. As a driver, YOU are responsible for YOUR friend’s lives. Do the grown up thing and offer them a safety device.
2. Please slow down. I’m not interested in your race car driving skills. I prefer to arrive on location alive and late rather than fast and dead.
3. Please invest in road infrastructure and safety. Putting a palm leaf in a giant gaping hole in the middle of the street is not sufficient. Think about double lane highways on anything above 120 km per hour. Put in traffic cops not lazy sete personnel whose only seeming job is to arrive at accidents AFTER they occur.
4. And lastly, please everyone remember that “the other guy” out there could in fact be a part of your social circle. Let’s think about having a beer with him or her instead of a head to head face off where nobody ultimately wins.
With these small efforts, 106 traumas and life terminations is in fact avoidable.
Friday, December 31
Happy Birthday 2011
Many years ago I resolved never to bother with New Year's resolutions, and I've stuck with it ever since. Haha
But seriously, best wishes and positive vibrations to those out in the blog world and beyond.
Thursday, December 30
A Beautiful Lie 30 Seconds to Mars HD
Good morning world! Thinking today about reality. It's a beautiful lie.
Monday, December 27
Babes, Bikes, and Battles
BBB. What is BBB? In Brazil, BBB is the acronym for the much loved Big Brother Brazil program now in its 11th season. As a prime-time hit in almost 70 countries, Big Brother has held a steady domination in the reality tv market, garnering support from drama seekers and closet peeping toms. The show has a simple premise. Stick a bunch of misfits into a large house, lock the door for three months, and record every social interaction that takes place. To keep things compelling, the shows producers throw in a cash prize of a million dollars for the last contestant standing, who through savviness or charm or political know-how somehow comes out alive.From a sociological and demographic perspective, the success of the show may have something to do with the joy of watching a clash of cultures (or what happens to people in close confinement who come from different social backgrounds). It’s a bit like taking a Martha Stewart, a meth baking hillbilly, three nuns, and a monkey, and throwing them into a jail cell for three long and dicey months. The ultimate drama manifests in who allies with who and why.
In my own reality tv show of life, BBB has an entirely different meaning. While I was out drinking a lovely whip cream frappuccino last night, I started thinking about the things that excite me, you know, the things that make me go all happy powdered sugar donut on the inside. It may just have been the caffeine going to my head, but I realized that you can tell a lot about a person by how they answer the question: What makes you happy?
Keep in mind I’m not asking the question: What makes you ultimately happy? This will produce an entirely different set of answers, because what ultimately makes us happy is harder to define and a bit more philosophical in nature (I’m going to devote my next blog post to answering this one). With the former question however, I’m more interested in superficial moments of glee—the rope swing process of emotional ecstasy where we feel happiness at the height of the arc, and then quickly fall back to normalcy as we swing back down.
So to answer this mark of self-identification, I must return to BBB.
Babes
Yes, call me cliché, but I am a fan of attractive women. Who isn’t really? Research has demonstrated time and again that there are tremendous social and economic benefits to being attractive. Attractive people are paid more, are judged more intelligent and will receive more attention in most facets of life. Studies suggest that even infants prefer pretty faces, which is funny because who really wants to be judged by an infant!? This phenomenon of pre-judging a person (without consciously realizing it) through the perception of physical traits is called the halo effect, and it is a powerful force in most if not all societies. I got to thinking about my own cognitive bias in regards to attractive people the other day, and that led me to the glorious wiki page on physical attraction.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Physical_attraction
What an interesting reading! Wiki tells us that there appears to be universal standards regarding attractiveness both within and across cultures and ethnic groups (although I would argue there are often cultural filters at work which produce beauty standards in opposition to this universal norm). Some interesting tidbits that I read:
- Women, on average, tend to be more attracted to men who display a high-degree of facial symmetry, masculine facial dimorphism, are taller than them and who have a relatively narrow waist, a V-shaped torso, and broad shoulders.
- Men, overall, tend to be attracted by women who are shorter than them, have a youthful appearance and exhibit features such as a symmetrical face, full breasts, full lips, and a low waist-hip ratio.
- Studies have shown that ovulating heterosexual women and homosexual men prefer faces with masculine traits associated with increased exposure to testosterone (during key developmental stages), such as heavy brows, prominent chins, chiseled jaw lines, and broad cheekbones. The masculinity of male faces (and the femininity of female faces) is described as a sexual dimorphism. Female respondents in the follicular phase of their menstrual cycle (n = 55) were significantly more likely to choose a masculine face than those in menses and luteal phases (n = 84), (or in those taking hormonal contraception) It is suggested that the masculinity of facial features is a reliable indication of good health, or, alternatively, that dominant and masculine-looking males are more likely to achieve high status. Also, females tend to prefer masculine facial traits more for short-term partners, than for long-term partners.
- A number of double-blind studies have found that women prefer the scent of men who are rated as facially attractive. For example, a study by Anja Rikowski and Karl Grammerdid had individuals rate the scent of t-shirts slept in by test subjects. The photographs of those subjects were independently rated, and Rikowski and Grammar found that both males and females were more attracted to the natural scent of individuals who had been rated by consensus as facially attractive. It has also been shown that women have a preference for the scent of men with more symmetrical faces, and that womens' preference for the scent of more symmetrical men is strongest during the most fertile period of their menstrual cycle. Within the set of normally cycling women, individual women's preference for male facial symmetry correlated with their probability of conception.[29]
….Anyway, I find these details to be remarkably interesting, not so much because of my own fixture on physical attraction, but rather as a fulfillment of curiosity on what makes the social system move—i.e. why we act the way we act in the presence of an attractive person. Knowing the why ultimately give us power to refuse these natural forces, to not ascribe positive traits to people that don’t necessarily deserve them (in job interviews, dating, political candidates, etc.).
Bikes
Let’s get something straight. My personal affinity for babes does not make me a social whore. Quite the contrary. While I will admit to a natural biological predisposition towards babeness, I don’t necessarily condone sexual promiscuity or cheating. People often use these ‘biological arguments’ to condone malevolent social behavior, especially guys. In today’s modern age, having multiple babes (guys or girls) can lead to any number of misfortunate circumstances, things like STD’s, cervical cancer, violence, children with unwanted partners, and an inability to cultivate profound relationships with other people.
In my opinion, we need to find healthy ways to deal with repressed sexual desire. Some people play pool, other people drink beer. I ride motorcycles. ;- )
I’m not sure exactly what it is that makes a motorcycle so sexual. Perhaps it’s the visceral nature of the experience, the way you feel all of your senses – the wind in your hair – and live in the moment. Perhaps it’s the rather startling sensation of 1000cc’s of power vibrating between your legs. Whatever it is, motorcycles seem to be an effective way (though not always safe) to deal with ones testosterone.
My first babe was an old 1981 Yamaha cruiser. Not too sexy but practical. Then I moved on to the first love of my life, Josephine. Riding her through the windy back roads of the Colorado Rockies was a truly liberating experience. Now I have my sites set on a new “girl”, a 2010 BMW 1000 RR sport bike. I scheme of getting crafty, removing the fairing and painting her with Polynesian tribal decals. A boy can dream right?
Battles
The last area of my BBB is stuck somewhere between romantic notions of the past and healthy living. It is my decade’s long fixation with battles, with grabbing antiquated equipment and facing off with an oppositional force. On the delicate continuum of social status, I definitely scream nerd with this one. But I’m ok with that. Swords are my medium for physical happiness, the reason I go to the gym, run, and cross train other martial arts. I find that there is no better metaphor for conquering personal fear than with a direct conflict with another human being (which inevitably becomes a face off with yourself).
Here is one of my fights with my Kenjutsu group at the end of the year. I am the guy on the right, living very happy and in the moment.
So that’s it. These are my BBB’s, my momentary artificially flavored mediums of happiness. What are yours?
Friday, December 24
A Week in Pictures
A week has passed and my Boulder friends Diane and Paul have come and gone. It's Christmas eve, 95 degrees, and the girl and I have decided to sleep off the day. We enjoyed our tour guide efforts with my friends, running around the pre-holiday chaos of Salvador, but are good and ready to take this vacation a bit more slowly. We only have 13 days until my parents arrive, until we fire up the tour guide energies once again, and are determined to a) stay lazy and b) spend less money.
Having our friends here was fun. I enjoyed the chance to see our city with fresh eyes and to reinvigorate my American identity. We did many exciting Salvador things like drinking chopp in Rio Vermelho, running around the Pelourinho, beach time in Porto da Barra, and escaping the city noise at Praia do Forte and Imbassai. It was your typical fun in the sun, beer, chilled coconuts and salty meat, tropical adventure.
For now, I will dream of a white Christmas and of spending time with family. As much as I'm happy to be here, the holiday season just doesn't feel the same without them.
Celebrating birthdays and Vivi's graduation.
No better way to do so than with friends and karaoke.
All the better to bring our Boulderites along with us.
Dance, lady, dance!
This was our hardest semester yet and a bit of r&r much deserved.
I did get to spend some time with my ex which was you know kind of great.
Turtles in a half shell. Turtle power.
Coolest wall paper to date. Download and use at your leisure.
I dare you to try and get me out of that bed.
Acroyoga junkies. They danced in the air and then...
Threw us around!
It was like a strange mix of challenging gravity and couples therapy.
We found this article on the beach; honestly the strangest little micro universe I have ever seen. It was a girl's shoe covered in barnacles. The clammy little devils would slurp their tongues out of their shell. Very creepy.
Yeah vacation!
Having our friends here was fun. I enjoyed the chance to see our city with fresh eyes and to reinvigorate my American identity. We did many exciting Salvador things like drinking chopp in Rio Vermelho, running around the Pelourinho, beach time in Porto da Barra, and escaping the city noise at Praia do Forte and Imbassai. It was your typical fun in the sun, beer, chilled coconuts and salty meat, tropical adventure.
For now, I will dream of a white Christmas and of spending time with family. As much as I'm happy to be here, the holiday season just doesn't feel the same without them.
Celebrating birthdays and Vivi's graduation.
No better way to do so than with friends and karaoke.
All the better to bring our Boulderites along with us.
Dance, lady, dance!
This was our hardest semester yet and a bit of r&r much deserved.
I did get to spend some time with my ex which was you know kind of great.
Turtles in a half shell. Turtle power.
Coolest wall paper to date. Download and use at your leisure.
I dare you to try and get me out of that bed.
Acroyoga junkies. They danced in the air and then...
Threw us around!
It was like a strange mix of challenging gravity and couples therapy.
We found this article on the beach; honestly the strangest little micro universe I have ever seen. It was a girl's shoe covered in barnacles. The clammy little devils would slurp their tongues out of their shell. Very creepy.
Yeah vacation!Saturday, December 11
December
Looking up at my tropical sky I can see the snow falling. I can see it falling in Michigan, staring out my living room window into the sleepy limbs of the woods. I can see it falling in South Carolina, when in third grade I ran into the classroom screaming, “Snow, snow, it’s snowing!!!” I can see it on that Monday morning in Colorado when the Flat Irons were slightly dusted like powdered donuts, resting quietly in the winter air. Here the snow falls in the mind, tingling the skin in melted clumps of memories long past. Here Christmas arrives all too furtively.
This is the last week before winter break, and both Vivi and I are excited to get out of school. This last semester has been a real trial for both of us, with agonizing months of work, on top of work, on top of school. Vivi is graduating this semester and had to complete some of the most arduous coursework to date. I kept myself busy studying for my comprehensive master’s exam, which I officially aced a few weeks past. All and all we are happy to finally have our heads above water, and excited about the month long break just ahead of us.
In January, my parents are finally making their way down to Brazil. I’m very excited about their trip, and have planned our itinerary down to the letter. This will be the first time in almost five decades that my dad returns to his motherland. I can’t wait to see their faces, freshly arrived off their secluded monastery of a farm in Oklahoma, only to be thrust head first into the chaotic mass of sun, and song, and setting that is Bahia. We will spend a few days in the city, a few days on the island, and a few days in Chapada, a real whirlwind tour of all the northeast has to offer.
Until then, we will be working on what we’ve been working on for the last 8 months, our mountain pile of bureaucracy, our bereavement of imperial powers who stare skeptically at Vivi and I in wonder. It’s been a long journey that I have avoided for the most part on this blog, but that I may come to recount in its proper place and time. Just know, for now, that an exit plan is in place as we prepare for our own dance and twirl out of Brazil.
Sunsets at Porto.
No comment.
No comment.
This is the last week before winter break, and both Vivi and I are excited to get out of school. This last semester has been a real trial for both of us, with agonizing months of work, on top of work, on top of school. Vivi is graduating this semester and had to complete some of the most arduous coursework to date. I kept myself busy studying for my comprehensive master’s exam, which I officially aced a few weeks past. All and all we are happy to finally have our heads above water, and excited about the month long break just ahead of us.
In January, my parents are finally making their way down to Brazil. I’m very excited about their trip, and have planned our itinerary down to the letter. This will be the first time in almost five decades that my dad returns to his motherland. I can’t wait to see their faces, freshly arrived off their secluded monastery of a farm in Oklahoma, only to be thrust head first into the chaotic mass of sun, and song, and setting that is Bahia. We will spend a few days in the city, a few days on the island, and a few days in Chapada, a real whirlwind tour of all the northeast has to offer.
Until then, we will be working on what we’ve been working on for the last 8 months, our mountain pile of bureaucracy, our bereavement of imperial powers who stare skeptically at Vivi and I in wonder. It’s been a long journey that I have avoided for the most part on this blog, but that I may come to recount in its proper place and time. Just know, for now, that an exit plan is in place as we prepare for our own dance and twirl out of Brazil.
Master Ban at work on another barbecue.
Sunsets at Porto.
No comment.
No comment.
Friday, November 26
Black Friday
They say that in America the streets are paved with gold. They say that America is the land of opportunity and that if you’re gonna make it, you’ll make it there. Some even say, with the power of compound interest, you (yes you) can be a millionaire. Say you have $100.00 and it earns 5% interest each year, you'll have $105.00 at the end of the first year. But at the end of the second year, you'll have $110.25. Not only did you earn $5.00 on the $100.00 you initially deposited—your original "principal"—but you also earned an extra $0.25 on the $5.00 in interest. Twenty-five cents may not sound like much at first, but it adds up over time. Even if you never add another dime to that account, in 10 years you'll have over $162.00, and in 25 years you'll have almost $340.00. Not a powerful example, I know, but let’s say you save $10,000 in a retirement plan. What will your investment be worth after 40 years, if you don’t make any additional contributions? Assuming an expected rate of return of 9 percent, the total approximate value of your investment would double to $20,000 in 8 years, $40,000 in 16 years, and $80,000 in 24 years, $160,000 in 32 years, and $320,000 in 40 years.
Translation, if I had saved small and started early, I could be a millionaire by the time I retired.
The problem is I didn’t, and the older I get the more the power of my compound interest weakens. Here in Brazil, I feel even more powerless. Despite the fact that the Brazilian economy is growing, things are not all cupcakes and butterflies and sunshine as the Brazilian media often portrays.
The truth is, for those of us on the bottom end of the economic gab, the cost of living and the dismal salaries are savings prohibitive. I see my girl working three jobs, leaving the house at 7 in the morning and coming back at 9 at night (this includes working every Saturday). At the end of the month, despite the fact that we live rather humbly, don’t have a car, limit our cell phone use, etc., there IS NO money left over. We can’t save, we can’t build, and that starts to really wear on you.
In time, I think we could turn things around. We could find better jobs, be more disciplined with our savings, and maybe buy a used car. We could work as teachers at an international school, maybe open our own business. The problem is, without the proper US based certifications, and with our difficulties saving money, we can’t get there from here. Despite America’s current financial troubles it would still be easier for us to build in the “land of opportunity”, and to attain that wondrous status of middle class. Given the necessary elements of discipline, hard work, and a little luck, I think we could do better than in Brazil.
In this sense, the time is nigh. If we are going to do this thing, we want to do it right. It is well past the hour to get our financial life in shape—to make a concerted and focused effort to save and to begin to build our empire. For this we need a plan, which is finally beginning to materialize:
1. Don't do what most Americans do (i.e. avoid the worship of stuff) 2. Pay off all debt finishing in December (the borrower is the servant to the lender and we don't want to be slaves) 3. Make a proactive monthly budget and stick to it (if you don't control your money it controls you) 4. Put $10,000 into an emergency “when shit happens” account 5. Find work where we are naturally gifted and work hard (get rich quick is stay poor trying) 6. Always live beneath our means (i.e. maintain humble lifestyle even with success) 7. Diversify our investments; invest in mutual funds 8. Save! And learn how to bargain hunt (patience is key) 9. Learn the art of negotiation and pay for things with cash 10. Take baby steps (prioritize plan and move slowly)
Who knows what the future holds? It’s time to open the gate and see where this puppy goes.
Translation, if I had saved small and started early, I could be a millionaire by the time I retired.
The problem is I didn’t, and the older I get the more the power of my compound interest weakens. Here in Brazil, I feel even more powerless. Despite the fact that the Brazilian economy is growing, things are not all cupcakes and butterflies and sunshine as the Brazilian media often portrays.
The truth is, for those of us on the bottom end of the economic gab, the cost of living and the dismal salaries are savings prohibitive. I see my girl working three jobs, leaving the house at 7 in the morning and coming back at 9 at night (this includes working every Saturday). At the end of the month, despite the fact that we live rather humbly, don’t have a car, limit our cell phone use, etc., there IS NO money left over. We can’t save, we can’t build, and that starts to really wear on you.
In time, I think we could turn things around. We could find better jobs, be more disciplined with our savings, and maybe buy a used car. We could work as teachers at an international school, maybe open our own business. The problem is, without the proper US based certifications, and with our difficulties saving money, we can’t get there from here. Despite America’s current financial troubles it would still be easier for us to build in the “land of opportunity”, and to attain that wondrous status of middle class. Given the necessary elements of discipline, hard work, and a little luck, I think we could do better than in Brazil.
In this sense, the time is nigh. If we are going to do this thing, we want to do it right. It is well past the hour to get our financial life in shape—to make a concerted and focused effort to save and to begin to build our empire. For this we need a plan, which is finally beginning to materialize:
1. Don't do what most Americans do (i.e. avoid the worship of stuff) 2. Pay off all debt finishing in December (the borrower is the servant to the lender and we don't want to be slaves) 3. Make a proactive monthly budget and stick to it (if you don't control your money it controls you) 4. Put $10,000 into an emergency “when shit happens” account 5. Find work where we are naturally gifted and work hard (get rich quick is stay poor trying) 6. Always live beneath our means (i.e. maintain humble lifestyle even with success) 7. Diversify our investments; invest in mutual funds 8. Save! And learn how to bargain hunt (patience is key) 9. Learn the art of negotiation and pay for things with cash 10. Take baby steps (prioritize plan and move slowly)
Who knows what the future holds? It’s time to open the gate and see where this puppy goes.
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