Turf War Rio de Janeiro

In Rio de Janeiro there is a huge gap in wealth and social stratification. Beautiful high-rise buildings overlook spiraling slums creeping up hills. A city where the poor deal with the corruption of drug lords in your neighborhoods as their governing body, and the rich deal with the same corruption of drug lords on a less blatant platform, but that deals with a greater sum of money.

Over the past few years the police of Rio de Janeiro have been slowly taking over the "drug lord's" turf in the slum (favelas) and permanently reclaiming the land and power as Brazil's. The series of operations have not been peaceful or been done without some type of retaliation from the escaping drug traffickers.

Last week, due the up and coming Olympic Games in Rio de Janeiro, the police invaded  the favelas of Pena in the north zone which sparked a wave of crime and retaliation throughout the city: buses and cars burned, people robbed, stray bullets near the slums of the invasion, drive by shooting aimed for police posts, stores closing early, classes cancelled, and terror in general spread. Now as I type the police have secured Complexo do Alemao. Now waves the flags of Rio de Janeiro and Brazil at the top of the conquered hill.

Let's all hope that there are no more innocent people killed or wounded by this all out war between authority and anarchy. Which leads me to the question: why did the government let it get to this point? Also, knowing that drugs kill people, innocent people and ruin the lives of loved ones, why do people (rich & poor)  continue to use and create a demand for these illicit crimes. Stepping onto my soapbox--people, love your neighbor and do good to each other. Treat those how you would want to be treated.

I'll leave you with a quote by Ganhdi, "You have to be the change that you want to see in the world." Please don't create a market for blood shed.



The Gayest Day of the Year in Rio de Janeiro

So, every Sunday I take my weekly walk on the beach in Copacabana, nothing usual. I stroll down Ave. Atlantica dodging little poodles and kids motoring around in miniature cars and bicycles; however, two Sundays ago I was met at the beach with "Ra ra u-la la, Ra ra u-la la, Ga ga..." blaring over (what's typically used during Caraval blocos) these monsterous sound trailers with people dancing atop in tight white jeans shirtless and men in drag. Normally, I see old men walking along with their saggy sungas (Brazilian version of a Speedo), but today that was replaced by young guys walking around with angle wings on their backs. This meant only one thing, the excessive dance music, topless men with sparkles, drag queens, butch women, and a rainbow of colors, it was only the GAYEST day of the year in Rio de Janeiro-Gay Pride, my friends!

Last year my friend (super cute gay guy) dragged me to the parade where I was shoulder to shoulder with a bunch of sweaty topless guys. Surprisingly enough, only men hit on me there. I was a little taken back by this, as it was a "gay pride" parade. Fortunately, my friend posed as my boyfriend the entire way repelling off the hordes of hormonal conquistadores. The girls that saw me gave me one look and ran the other direction. One even looked at me and turned to her friend and said "She's straight!" right in my face.

That leads me to a digression- how does one look straight? From all I could tell at the parade in Rio (I know some people aren't gonna like this, but oh well, here it goes anyway) a straight girl looks normal, by normal I mean isn't butched out, while a gay guy is harder to tell. All of the women I saw were wearing sports braws, cut off jean shorts, and many with ball caps demostrating their muffin top bellies. Call me traditional, but that's not sexy at all! If a woman were to like another woman, why would she go for one that looks like a guy? Why not just have a boyfriend? It's socially acceptable and easier. The men there were gorgeous for the most part, some outrageously flamboyant, but at least with nice bodies.

This year instead of being in the middle of the action I opted to be a passive observer from a kiosk a safe distance from the crowd (I'm American- I like my personal space). I would say that the parade this year was very tame in comparison to last year's giantic parade. The most excitement was when a drunk guy and one of the kiosk security guards got into a fist fight 6 feet from my table. All in all it was a very gay day in deed!

Halloween In Rio de Janeiro

It's Halloween in Rio de Janeiro, but not really Halloween, no little kids running around with undersized costumes and make up ringing your doorbell in hopes of getting the good candy, not the cheap hard candy or carmel covered apples--the Snickers or the Baby Ruth's. There are no horror films in the background, nor the smell of pumkin spiced tea.

With this being said, I am still bound to have a good day. I am sitting in my apartment in Rio de Janeiro drinking English breakfast tea out of a mug that reads "I'd Rather Be Drinking Champagne" and watching Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang, at least a little murder to darken my afternoon. I've been in Rio for the past two months trying to finish up my MBA in Management, still have about 4 months to go. Lots of things have happened: 1.) the movie I helped translate English subtitles O Gigante do Papelao has won two best picture awards abroad, 2.) I've started taking classes in Barra, which is about one hour from where I live, 3.) I'm starting to help as a photo assistant periodically, mainly with lighting and keeping an eye on the photographer's equipment, 4.) my Portuguese is getting better, 5.) I'm learning how to dance ballroom forro and samba finally, 5.) I've been practing guitar and piano, learning how to read music--still not very good, 6.) just hanging out and trying to enjoy life.

Coincidentally, Brazil's election for President and State Governors is today on Halloween, so everyone is out compulsorily voting. It's not like in the US where you have the choice to vote, they can vote null, but have to show up at the ballots or have a convincing discuse why they could not vote in the election, like in the hospital or traveling abroad. My opinion, the Lula backed Dilma Rousseffi will become the first woman president of Brazil, not sure if that's a good or bad thing...

Leather Boots Kickin' Around Nebraska

It's interesting how when most people travel they look for the familiar and stick to it--I am the same--currently I am in a small town in Scottsbluff, Nebraska, population about 179,000ish, small. I feel like such a lame hypocrite as I complain about how Wal-Mart is the devil of America, while I ask my front desk attendant where the Starbucks is in town. The familiarity of the soft guitar melodies being strummed with someone quietly accompanying vocally is something that I don't like to lack in my life. She responded that there was no Starbucks--my GPS had lied to me. There had been one and it went out of business. Apparently sitting and sipping on a hot cafe Americano isn't the thing to do in Scottsbluff, NE, I thought.

This land of fast food franchises in America has spread like a malignant disease--as I drive down the main food drive, 27th St.; I am thinking to myself, how do they eat this shit every day? Apparently they don't love food here, but their waists don't reflect that much. For lunch I made my way to Taco del Oro--a little locally owned taco shop--and ordered a soft taco that my very Anglo-Saxon mom could've made with much ease, but what made me happy was that it was a local joint doing such a great business. So many times in these little towns the major franchises take precedence over the locally owned businesses--where typically the ingredients are fresher and much better for you. This forunately got my spirits up a little higher than they were previously. I'm not sure about anyone else out there, but I judge a place always by the food, music, and its people--the same goes for restaurants. You can tell a lot about a person by what they eat, the type of things they put into their bodies and where they frequent. I digress.

Getting back to the point, the familiarity of a cafe provides the comfort and type of atsmosphere that makes me feel pleased in any location throughout the world. It's interesting how I am sitting in Scottsbluff writing this post and by the looks of this place I could be anywhere in the world. I should be trying out the steak houses, but I am drawn to familiarity, what I like. 

By the way, I did find an incredible restaurant called "Paradise" that reads from the road "Paradise Tanning, Carwash, German, Cocktail, Diner"--amazing right! Marketing completely confusing when you drive by, but I was bound and determined to find good food here and did. So basically, I could go tanning, wash my car, eat a good meal and then have a cocktail all in one place, astonishing!

Inspiration

LINCOLN, Nebraska--I'm on the road again... Last night, I went to see "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo" by Stieg Larsson and got inspired to finish my book. I love the way he wrote without worrying if the public would find the explicit sex scenes too much to digest. It's been about a month since I last touched my attempted book; however, the last scene I had finished writing before writer's block ensued was a very explicit sex scene in the bathroom of a restaurant. I had toyed with the idea of taking it out, thinking that it was too heavy for the book, but after seeing "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo" and starting the second book of the trilogy, "The Girl Who Played With Fire," I decided to leave it happily. =)

From Buenos Aires to Rio de Janeiro to Kansas City

I'm back home, in Kansas City, for the summer to work and to spend a little time with my family before heading back to Brazil to finish up my degree. It's difficult to be home after having such an incredible journey in Brazil and Argentina without missing my life in South America and my lifestyle while living there. I realized I was really back in the States when I went to Mimi's Cafe and tried to order freshly squeezed orange juice to no avail. Apparently the "freshly squeezed" orange juice there was from a box. Hum... However, on a very positive note, my shower has just the right pressure and temperature, not sculding hot and then freezing cold leaving only 5 secs to tactfully catch the perfect temperature for a shower. It's nice to see my family and eat my mom's homemade lasagna again.

Buenos Aires two weeks before coming home was delightful and merits its own post. So, I will wait to give the details of my trip for a later time.

A funny story that happened right as I was leaving for Buenos Aires at the airport. The customs officer noticed that I hadn't registered my student visa with the federal police in Brazil. Of course, I was completely surprised and confused because I didn't know that I had to do that, as I am the only foreigner in my program and my coordinator hadn't mentioned it. With luck, he let me pass and I spent my entire trip in Argentina worried about getting back into the country. I thought I would turn into Tom Hanks and live in the airport for a week until I sorted out my visa. When I got to the airport again to enter Brazil, I walked up to the customs officer with the biggest smile on my face and hoping to God that she wouldn't say anything about my visa not being registered. She fiddled with my passport for a few minutes and couldn't find my information in the system. Then asked me if it was my first student visa, to which I responded, "no, I also studied at PUC." That pleased her, and she stamped my passport and told me to have a good night, not really finding my visa in the system or caring to bother with it since this was my second visa. Yeah! I entered with no problem ready to go the the federal police to pay the maxium fine of r$800 for not registering my visa within 30 days of entering the country that next day.

The next day at the federal police, of course at the airport really far from my apartment, I had the pleasure of running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to get everything sorted out. The first lady that "helped" me didn't want to even give me the time of day. When I arrived after waiting in line for two hours, she said, "You have nothing done," handed me list and walked away with me still sitting at her desk for lunch. Great customer service. Fortunately, there was a really nice attendant next to her and she helped me out with everything that I needed to do in order to register my visa. Long-story-short, two days of the federal police and a mountain of paperwork later, I didn't have to pay the r$800 because when I entered the country in September, no one had stamped my passport, so they couldn't legally make me pay a fine when my date of entrance was just 2 days old from my Argentina trip. I'm sooooo happy I went to Argentina and that I didn't have to pay that ridiculous fine. Thank you customs officer that forgot to stamp my passport!

Em fim, estou com saudades do Brasil!

Buenos Aires, Here I Come!

Today is a glorious day.  I went to the travel agency and finalized my trip to Buenos Aires, Argentina. This is a dream come true for me. While at university I studied Spanish and Japanese in tandem and got the opportunity to visit Japan, but never to visit a Spanish speaking country. Let me make myself clear, an offical Spanish speaking country, as everywhere in the US now is bilingual for Spanish speakers. Not only is Argentina a Spanish speaking country, it is the Paris of South America without the expense of the Euro--fabulous!

Now, the task at hand is the come up with a plan of what spots to visit and what foods to try. I usually judge a country and culture by its food, music, and people, so I am guessing that Argentina will be a new love of mine. The next task will be: remembering Spanish. Yes, I live in Brazil. No, they don't speak Spanish here--it's Portuguese, just for clarification purposes. You're welcome all Brazilians that are tired to death of explaining that the official language of Brazil is Portuguese, not Spanish. With that being said, Spanish and Portuguese are very similar and if you speak one of them, it will be easier for you to learn the other: Latin roots. My Spanish used to be decent, but now after living in Brazil for so long, I have acquired a Brazilian accent when I attempt to speak Spanish. This should be interesting for all parties involved, as I will be mixing Portuguese and Spanish unwittly. Da licenca, eu me gustaria comprar isto!  I can only imagine...

I've even purchased a tango show at Senor Tango! So incredibly excited. I took free tango classes at uni taught by one of the Spanish teachers and came to the conclusion that I am a horrible ballroom dancer for the following reason: I hate to be led. I'll fight it every time. This intuition makes me the worst tango partner in the world; however, I love watching it. It is so passionate and sexy, I can't get enough. Argentina, here I come!

If anyone has any suggestions, please leave a comment... :)