going back some days to review the scribblings that began when i boarded the plane for salvador. it's funny now to go back and read into the anticipation and the managing of the anxiety of the unknown. in some ways i predicted correctly and others, well, not so much.
15 january 2010
on the plane. boarded. loaded. eager for the trip. i will be greeted by francisco at the gate. he will hold a sign with my name and we will go to the homestay place. what to expect?
food is most on my mind as the plane lumbers toward take-off.
and so it is that we are in the air. feeling the pressure from below and rising to the blue. off to the right there sprawl large patches of neighborhoods mixed in with rolling green hills. beyond: the ocean to the horizon.
and now into countryside where housing no longer exists. green fields, small bodies of water. the usual anxieties of travel swirl away. ease sets in. confidence in the pilot, crew, aircraft.
no booze available? bah!
into some mountains now and still hugging the coastline. simple. pretty.
two sisters in their fifties housing language students. this will be an experience. i wonder will they be fussy, doting, free-spirited...manic?
i hope they will be adventurous food folk. my mouth is watering even now at the thought of acarajé. squims in deliciousness.
over the cloud cover now. just us and the sun. the white forms its own landscape. a drifting mass of star dust rising up in columns--slabs breaking off in slow motion.
into the night we now go. nothing visible. but there is plenty to hear as the guy next to me has his ear buds blasting. and to my left a couple of men continue an emphatic conversation. at odd intervals a child some rows back screams in singular bursts of...surprise?
christmas finally came yesterday in the form of a box from my adoring mother. and in my box: a book. "open," the autobiography of andre agassi waits to be begun.
unexpected layover. not sure why that happened. hmmmm...my itinerary gave no such indication. at least i lost the loud-ear-bud neighbor. are we still due to arrive at my scheduled time? we shall see.
fortunately i am in the land of the laid-back. and the dude who's picking me up will likely roll with any delay more readily than if, say, i were landing in kagoshima (birthplace of sho-chu). or maybe it is i who will roll more readily since there isn't the focus here on puctuality and the apologetic bows would certainly be replaced by a more relaxed series of gestures.
take-off number two underway. and it is indeed good to be the first one in the first row. i am pleasantly close to the flight attendant who bears a slight resemblance to a young barbara streisand. or maybe it's this copy of agassi's story, inclusive of the details regarding his brief time with the singer, playing tricks on me.
either way i am smitten by the usual mental dalliances that seem to occur on every flight. her movements swift and confident. my ultimate safety in her hands. a glance and a smile as she goes through the routine of flight procedure were we to crash land.
at last we land--sans crash. we part ways with one last grin and twinkle of the eye. real or imagined it matters not. something about that uniform...
anyway, with the unexpected layover and subsequent confusion i hardly expect my suitcase to arrive. but it does. great relief.
and lo, here is francisco with the sign bearing my name. second time to have such an experience and enjoyed in equal measure to the first.
meeting up with another person from the school and a young lady from the netherlands. shortish drive to my apartment and first impressions roll in. i'm in the goddamn ghetto...again. i pause in the gated entrance as midnight fades well into the distance and the portero huddles in his tiny booth.
the place i'm staying is nice, but across the way a dwelling stands abandoned and gaping in my direction. litter floats about and street folk skitter on their delirious way. it's late. i'm tired. i enter.
up to the 18th floor i go. meet dolores: nice enough first impression. though she appears more tired than i. another body in her bedroom, sleeping. no real immediate spark coming from her at the prospect of my stay. what was i expecting? a parade? ribbons and banners?
her flat is swank, from what i've seen. she leaves me to the unpacking and then some soup in the kitchen.
now bed. 2 a.m. sleepy. nighty night.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
just days remain
a slight change in plans. we found ourselves renting a car and heading to praia do forte for a respite. along the coast we drove. we passed a series of beaches and crawled through a couple gongested areas. i've driven before in brazil and it is always an experience. the rules of engagement are simply more intense than what i've known from driving in the states and japan.
honking is a big part of roadway communication. a honk can mean anything from "hey, i'm coming through" to "get your punk ass outta my way." the motorcycles honk more than anyone. but that's because they are constantly weaving their way though the lanes. the delivery people are the best. since they are on the go all day, they have great skill and will duck and weave through impossibly small openings. if you've ever played that pizza delivery video game, then you have an idea of what this looks like. they brake, accelerate, and lean hard to the right and left. the sqaure container affixed to the back comes within inches of cars and trucks and bobs to and fro like a featherweight boxer.
so points of the drive were soothing. it always feels good to be on the move and headed somewhere new and beautiful. other parts...not so soothing.
alas we arrived. we ditched the car and went directly to the beach. what a sight. this is one of the most tranquil beaches i have ever seen. sparsely populated by people and powdery soft sand under foot. the water stretched out, calm and peaceful, about the length of a football field. beyond, the calm gave way to rolling waves on which surfers rode, sank into, and paddled back through for more.
palm trees tall and lean lined the beach. their fronds uniformly pushed back and giving the appearence of a face atop a long neck leaning forward into the wind with hair blowing majestically back. no noise. no litter. no hustlers bumming change and scoping out items to snatch, nor vendors demanding one buy their wares.
from there it was off to dinner in the little village. i knew not what to expect from this beach community, and i was pleasantly surprised. it's like a little tourist oasis in a tiny village. pousadas line a couple streets and come in various colors and architectural styles. in the town center one can stroll easily and without worry and take in the sight of shops, restaurants, and all the other delights that the average tourist might enjoy.
just a couple streets over in any direction, however, is something much more interesting. in fact, surrounding the tourist area is much more what would be described as "real brazil." winding through narrow passages and past tiny residences where locals relaxed, prepared food, and scurried about in their daily routines, we were given many quick peeks into lives quite different from our own. we agreed that we could spend many hours--days even--milling about this quiet little community.
on day two we settled ourselves at a table outside in some shade for a meal. the food was provided by a woman who simply set up a table and some chairs in front of her home. the menu was scribbled on a dry-erase board and the options were quite simple. i settled on fried chicken. with the meal came rice and beans and a little salad. a couple liters of beer were enjoyed and for dessert we had the freshest mango i've ever eaten. lunch for two: just under fifteen u.s. dollars.
just above our heads, little monkeys flew from limb to limb, giving chase and swinging in a most carefree fashion. a local man at a nearby table stood quickly in an apparent huff over some issue. a string of words flew from his mouth, vehement and forceful, directed at the proprietor. he picked up his bicycle, shouting the whole time and gesturing wildly with his free hand. the whole time he kept creeping toward the street and was nearly run down by both a car and a motorbike. he moved to the next mom-and-pop shop and tried explaining his situation, with increasing volume, to them. he was asked to leave. finally he rode slowly and unsteadily away, swiveling his neck to continue the string of verbiage as he was nearly plowed by yet another vehicle.
we exchanged looks of wonder and amusement and another local, just one table over, said "too much drink, he craaaazy." we nodded and proceeded to have a little chat. in the streets kids played. shoeless and reckless they streamed from one house to another and up and down this alley and that. monkeys continued their games overhead and a scrawny cat patrolled the area for table scraps.
more beach. more food. more drink. more strolling. more relief from the grind of salvador, which has become a giant headache. it's a beautiful city, with beautiful beaches. and the bahians are a wonderfully friendly, curious, and talkative people. but the carnaval preparations are in full swing. and this means that temporary structures are going up everywhere. so vehicles plug the streets and the sidewalks. sound systems are being tested every few meters. the hustlers are fully operational. people continue to stream in (word has it that 2 million strong flood in for the party). and the odors are all blending into a full-blown stench.
the official start isn't until thursday, but really it has already begun. friday i will go with some friends to a camarote--a sectioned-off party that includes food, drink, and some comfort from the mass of humanity (the pipoca, or popcorn) that will be frenetically popping below. ai ai ai.
honking is a big part of roadway communication. a honk can mean anything from "hey, i'm coming through" to "get your punk ass outta my way." the motorcycles honk more than anyone. but that's because they are constantly weaving their way though the lanes. the delivery people are the best. since they are on the go all day, they have great skill and will duck and weave through impossibly small openings. if you've ever played that pizza delivery video game, then you have an idea of what this looks like. they brake, accelerate, and lean hard to the right and left. the sqaure container affixed to the back comes within inches of cars and trucks and bobs to and fro like a featherweight boxer.
so points of the drive were soothing. it always feels good to be on the move and headed somewhere new and beautiful. other parts...not so soothing.
alas we arrived. we ditched the car and went directly to the beach. what a sight. this is one of the most tranquil beaches i have ever seen. sparsely populated by people and powdery soft sand under foot. the water stretched out, calm and peaceful, about the length of a football field. beyond, the calm gave way to rolling waves on which surfers rode, sank into, and paddled back through for more.
palm trees tall and lean lined the beach. their fronds uniformly pushed back and giving the appearence of a face atop a long neck leaning forward into the wind with hair blowing majestically back. no noise. no litter. no hustlers bumming change and scoping out items to snatch, nor vendors demanding one buy their wares.
from there it was off to dinner in the little village. i knew not what to expect from this beach community, and i was pleasantly surprised. it's like a little tourist oasis in a tiny village. pousadas line a couple streets and come in various colors and architectural styles. in the town center one can stroll easily and without worry and take in the sight of shops, restaurants, and all the other delights that the average tourist might enjoy.
just a couple streets over in any direction, however, is something much more interesting. in fact, surrounding the tourist area is much more what would be described as "real brazil." winding through narrow passages and past tiny residences where locals relaxed, prepared food, and scurried about in their daily routines, we were given many quick peeks into lives quite different from our own. we agreed that we could spend many hours--days even--milling about this quiet little community.
on day two we settled ourselves at a table outside in some shade for a meal. the food was provided by a woman who simply set up a table and some chairs in front of her home. the menu was scribbled on a dry-erase board and the options were quite simple. i settled on fried chicken. with the meal came rice and beans and a little salad. a couple liters of beer were enjoyed and for dessert we had the freshest mango i've ever eaten. lunch for two: just under fifteen u.s. dollars.
just above our heads, little monkeys flew from limb to limb, giving chase and swinging in a most carefree fashion. a local man at a nearby table stood quickly in an apparent huff over some issue. a string of words flew from his mouth, vehement and forceful, directed at the proprietor. he picked up his bicycle, shouting the whole time and gesturing wildly with his free hand. the whole time he kept creeping toward the street and was nearly run down by both a car and a motorbike. he moved to the next mom-and-pop shop and tried explaining his situation, with increasing volume, to them. he was asked to leave. finally he rode slowly and unsteadily away, swiveling his neck to continue the string of verbiage as he was nearly plowed by yet another vehicle.
we exchanged looks of wonder and amusement and another local, just one table over, said "too much drink, he craaaazy." we nodded and proceeded to have a little chat. in the streets kids played. shoeless and reckless they streamed from one house to another and up and down this alley and that. monkeys continued their games overhead and a scrawny cat patrolled the area for table scraps.
more beach. more food. more drink. more strolling. more relief from the grind of salvador, which has become a giant headache. it's a beautiful city, with beautiful beaches. and the bahians are a wonderfully friendly, curious, and talkative people. but the carnaval preparations are in full swing. and this means that temporary structures are going up everywhere. so vehicles plug the streets and the sidewalks. sound systems are being tested every few meters. the hustlers are fully operational. people continue to stream in (word has it that 2 million strong flood in for the party). and the odors are all blending into a full-blown stench.
the official start isn't until thursday, but really it has already begun. friday i will go with some friends to a camarote--a sectioned-off party that includes food, drink, and some comfort from the mass of humanity (the pipoca, or popcorn) that will be frenetically popping below. ai ai ai.
Friday, February 5, 2010
bad student
yep. skipping class today. tomorrow i will leave for praia do forte for a couple getaway days and the air conditioned internet place is a good enough place to gather my senses and figure out what's next. oh, the heat.
yesterday was a long and beautiful day. first class and then lunch and a stroll on the beach. around three in the afternoon a group of people from the school gathered and went on a boat tour. the vessel was a pirate-ship-looking thing and the three attendants were all dressed in the garb of early portuguese explorers with all the pomp and circumstance. mozart blasted from a sound system and a little show was put on as the captain arrived and took his seat. we all looked on with smiles and the captain commenced with a history of the area and various buildings lining the shore.
the view from the water gave a fresh perspective. fancy high rise condos lined parts of the waterfront and ramshackle housing occupied others. further on we passed the yacht club and then it was the beaches in our sight. the typical umbrella communities and surfers.
pictures galore were taken as scenes of honor bestowed, beheadings, and cordial dance took place. we came about and began the slow roll back to port; the sun continued its descent and mingled with the minimal cloud cover to give us optimal lighting for pictures and extended gazing and sighing.
after the cruise we broke into smaller groups and strolled through the public market. sensory overload would begin to describe this place. african/brazilian/bahian art, trinkets, musical instruments, oh my! just outside the structure, in a social square of sorts, more vendors offered their wares.
onward into pelourinho we strolled: lorrie, jenn, lucas, sandra, macaela, and yolanda (u.s., canada, switzerland, germany, holland and spain, repectively). the pace was delightfully slow and we looked about at the historic weathered buildings, bantering back and forth. soon, however, we had to deal with the usual uncertainty when finding a restaurant that will please all seven people. this scene plays out over and over. where do we go? what do you want? no, what do you want? i don't care, i'm not deciding this time. is this place too expensive? do you want to split something? what about that place over there?
at these moments i feel most like a tourist. and i also can't help but recall traveling through europe thirteen years ago, with my then companion. we would be rambling about, enjoying the sights, free from any care in the world. after all we were there for one month with nary a reservation nor itinerary. a eurorail pass took us from paris to bruges, and on to amsterdam, berlin, munich, budapest, salzburg. finally to rome, florence and venice and then back for a final glance at amsterdam before returning to paris and then flying home.
but, oh yes, the food situation. so we would be cruising around and never think about food until we were ravenously hungry. then we would look in our "let's go" guide and find something that looked good. all good at this point. the food descriptions added to our hunger and we would speak little as we sought our spot. then, trouble sometimes came. maybe the place was closed, or no longer in existence, or too expensive, or dirty. crap. now it's time for plan b. and now we're really hungry. blood sugar is beginning to plummet. irritation sets in. another fifteen minute walk and now we are talking. some barbs are thrown. some are deflected and some stick. grumble, grumble, grumble.
finally: salvation. a place to eat and recover. as soon as the first bite is swallowed it is as though all is forgiven. and for the most part it is. post meal, we laugh about our attitudes and vow to be more pro-active about the next meal.
so throw five more people into that equation and you have serious indecision.
alas, we found a place. outdoor seating on the cobbled street with only foot traffic idling by. we proceed to have a long lavish meal as music drifts around and talk turns to films, languages, the state of various unions. a delicious espresso finished off the event and the night somehow drifted to a close.
yesterday was a long and beautiful day. first class and then lunch and a stroll on the beach. around three in the afternoon a group of people from the school gathered and went on a boat tour. the vessel was a pirate-ship-looking thing and the three attendants were all dressed in the garb of early portuguese explorers with all the pomp and circumstance. mozart blasted from a sound system and a little show was put on as the captain arrived and took his seat. we all looked on with smiles and the captain commenced with a history of the area and various buildings lining the shore.
the view from the water gave a fresh perspective. fancy high rise condos lined parts of the waterfront and ramshackle housing occupied others. further on we passed the yacht club and then it was the beaches in our sight. the typical umbrella communities and surfers.
pictures galore were taken as scenes of honor bestowed, beheadings, and cordial dance took place. we came about and began the slow roll back to port; the sun continued its descent and mingled with the minimal cloud cover to give us optimal lighting for pictures and extended gazing and sighing.
after the cruise we broke into smaller groups and strolled through the public market. sensory overload would begin to describe this place. african/brazilian/bahian art, trinkets, musical instruments, oh my! just outside the structure, in a social square of sorts, more vendors offered their wares.
onward into pelourinho we strolled: lorrie, jenn, lucas, sandra, macaela, and yolanda (u.s., canada, switzerland, germany, holland and spain, repectively). the pace was delightfully slow and we looked about at the historic weathered buildings, bantering back and forth. soon, however, we had to deal with the usual uncertainty when finding a restaurant that will please all seven people. this scene plays out over and over. where do we go? what do you want? no, what do you want? i don't care, i'm not deciding this time. is this place too expensive? do you want to split something? what about that place over there?
at these moments i feel most like a tourist. and i also can't help but recall traveling through europe thirteen years ago, with my then companion. we would be rambling about, enjoying the sights, free from any care in the world. after all we were there for one month with nary a reservation nor itinerary. a eurorail pass took us from paris to bruges, and on to amsterdam, berlin, munich, budapest, salzburg. finally to rome, florence and venice and then back for a final glance at amsterdam before returning to paris and then flying home.
but, oh yes, the food situation. so we would be cruising around and never think about food until we were ravenously hungry. then we would look in our "let's go" guide and find something that looked good. all good at this point. the food descriptions added to our hunger and we would speak little as we sought our spot. then, trouble sometimes came. maybe the place was closed, or no longer in existence, or too expensive, or dirty. crap. now it's time for plan b. and now we're really hungry. blood sugar is beginning to plummet. irritation sets in. another fifteen minute walk and now we are talking. some barbs are thrown. some are deflected and some stick. grumble, grumble, grumble.
finally: salvation. a place to eat and recover. as soon as the first bite is swallowed it is as though all is forgiven. and for the most part it is. post meal, we laugh about our attitudes and vow to be more pro-active about the next meal.
so throw five more people into that equation and you have serious indecision.
alas, we found a place. outdoor seating on the cobbled street with only foot traffic idling by. we proceed to have a long lavish meal as music drifts around and talk turns to films, languages, the state of various unions. a delicious espresso finished off the event and the night somehow drifted to a close.
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