there was no preparing for rio. heard all the stories about favelas and 'city of god' craziness. my friend dean told me to just accept that i would get robbed and just shove some money in my asshole. i told him thanks, but this wasn't spring break. my friend jahan showed me a movie called 'tropa elite' about the rio SWAT-esque team for favelas since even cops won't go in there. thug life. but, like the neverending theme for my trip so far, i was not prepared for how infectious the whole city would become for me.
first thing off the plane, we were greeted by a 6'4 woman in carnival garb and about a 90 pound headdress and immediately i felt at home. something felt familiar about all this. and it wasn't the fact that i was raised with a mother who is a drag queen in a woman's body. no, it was the entire feel of the place -- it just seemed to say, "come to where the flavor is. come to samba country."
i had arranged with my friend rosa to stay with her friend Roddy and his wife Julia and their two year old Peter, who i didn't know myself at all and was not prepared for how much i would come to sweat them. i was welcomed so totally and completely by them, i felt overwhelmed by their generosity. Julia was so worried about what americans eat she actually bought a big pack of bacon for me to make with eggs since that is what they have seen on TV. roddy's grandmother had an 80th birthday party while i was there and i gave her and her husband an obama pin which he immediately put on and informed me that he planned strutting back and forth around the american embassy wearing it with pride. woot-woot!
now the thing with brazilians,and this is something that is well publicized, is that they are some of the most beautiful people in the world. in my book, they are THE MOST gorgeous people you will lay eyes on all in one place. the mixtures of the races that have settled there over the centuries created what borders on obscene displays of beauty. All i can say is that it was highly probable that if i stayed there any longer (and on my own) i would have come back pregnant. seriously, if you've never been, you're not ready for the kind of lust you will experience for a mcdonald's drive-thru window cashier. ready to give up your whole life and move down to a third world country for the pleasure of having the night manager at the local walmart gaze lovingly into your eyes for the rest of your lives. if you go down there with a significant other, word to the wise - employ the use of dual-function leashes. or chastity belts. thug life.
but physical beauty aside, the inner beauty is just as potent. while taking a tour of maracana, the famous futbol stadium, the tour guide and i started talking about the difference between the crowds at american football games and futbol matches and when i told him i might not be able to make the game he told me that i should go with him and his friends and stay with him at his family's house if i had no where else to stay, which he was completely sincere about. if he had something else on his mind, i didn't notice and, being a big girl, i can generally tell about those things. but the flipside is: would i have minded if he did have sneaky intentions? yeah, not so much... cashiers gave me free food when they saw that i couldn't understand what they were saying, people offered to take me to the places i was looking for and, i swear there was a drunk who offered me his last swig of rum. just kidding. i can't confirm for certain that just because he had no pants he was a "drunk."
my favorite brazilian idiosyncracy: unfortunate naming traditions. anyone who had traveled knows the ubiquity that is american culture in a popular sense, but i was not ready for the trend that has manifested itself on a mass level whereby brazilians, hear, enjoy and then proceed to bastardize the names of american cultural icons so as to inflict a lifetime of embarrassment on their children. my favorites:
mikimaus (Mickey Mouse)
gianef-kinidi (John F. Kennedy)
jilander (Highlander: there were 3 of those!)
myck-tyson (Mike Tyson)
yeah..... i got nothing, i think it's self-explanatorily busted. however, there is some cache in being blessed (cursed?) with such a name, as if one if closer to western culture. i would urge them to watch any video footage of Carrot Top and re-think that aspiration.
final thoughts: a nice young boy, full of self-confidence with a penchant for deep dish pizza once said "...and the weather's so breezy, man, why can't life always be this easy?" this is brazil. it doesn't expect anything from you, doesn't tax your mind or spirit. on the contrary, it lifts you, it carries you from outside of your head. puts you back into the world in the most wonderful way with the softest landing you can imagine full of life and love, and food and smiles and music and beaches and palm trees and monkeys. when you leave you are drunk. if you aren't, you should have gone to germany.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
"this is very delicious for us, but i thinking you keep these as pets, no?"
this was the first country i was to travel in by myself and needless to say, i definitely had more than one vision of being sold into white slavery considering how devatatingly gorgeous i am. it's a concern even when i'm in the backwoods of massachusetts, so, how could i trust peru? after a day, the question was actually how could i NOT trust peruvianos. i felt filthy. so cynical about the motives of the pervianos, when in actuality, i have gotten ripped off worse by the little 14 yr old who used to sell us weed in Washington Square park, but i digress....
Lima was nice but a bit too much of a grimy city feel until i hit the coast. there was this whole southern california vibe of old hippies and young, hot surfers and the obligatory little kid selling chicle on the beach because nothing says "beach scene" like winterfresh gum. I hung out with a really sweet girl from Norway and for anyone who knows me you can bet i got the skinny on their whole healthcare and education system and the conclusion that i ultimately reached was that their free education and healthcare is really fantastic, only it's located in NORWAY. i think it snows like 300 days a year and it's illegal to get into verbal arguments or use a Nordic Track since they did not give their consent for use of the country name. other than that, it really seems great. if you're not allergic to moose.
Went on to Cuzco and this place is wonderful. old school (meaning conquistador, "old school", son) cobblestone streets, churches and colonial buildings in the Plaza de Armas juxtaposed with the droves of women in more traditional "native" clothing that pretty muich consists of a large skirts with a lot of material to make it poof out a bit, big, men's loafer-type shoes, five long sleeved shirts topped off with a North Face jacket, a ringmaster's hat, and a baby wrapped in a huge colorful blanket on Lupita's back. and by the way, it made no difference how old Lupita was, she had a baby on her back. i guess Lupita was keeping it for her 15 yr old daughter, cum, baby mamita. many of these women are members of farmer families, but when you would see them in the Cuzco they were either there to sell food from carts or spent their days lugging buckets back and forth. not quite sure what this practice was about, but I was certain that the people at Human Rights Watch would be very interested to learn of the alarming lack of Chuck E. Cheese's for the children's amusement and the extent to which these women are forced to carry and even breastfeed their own babies. It's a travesty. Even despite this, the people of Cuzco werte probably the kindest most generous individuals I have had the pleasure of meeting. You ask for an inch, they give you a mile - that's the Peruvian way. I could not have been more appreciative. i admit it was a bit much when one woman tried to offer her husband to me, but i think there was something else going on there....
evidence of the Inca people is truly all over the country, everywhere, right in town squares, and stuff, so it wasn't hard to get a little old school history lesson (B.C. 'old school,' son) but of course there's not much that compares with Macchu Pichu. I am not really able to describe it with words, nor would i want to since any turn of a phrase i might employ would diminish its wonder. all i will say is that when i was there, i felt like i was in God's country. that's the best way to describe it outside of anything else any other person who's ever been there would say. it's all true. i will also say, i've been to the egyptian pyramids, and this was more breathtaking. supplies are limited so if you have the means and ability, i urge you to check it out before Starbucks puts a franchise there.
there was a little cuzco mascot that kept popping up all over the place, in tourist shops and supermarkets and when you would go book a trip, this little cartoon animal that resembled a hedgehog would be stuck on a wall in the corner. this little guy was personified all over t-shirts as bob marley, kurt cobain, even homer simpson and it would always say "cuy"underneath it. i couldn't figure this out. then i was at my travel agent/english student, melissa's, office, and i asked her. she cracked a sideways smile and looked at me a bit sheepishly under lidded eyes. "this is our food." i didn't understand. "we have food that is very traditional to cuzco that maybe americans do not like." i asked her to explain, but this time with more suspense and drama. "it is guinea pig." como se huh? "yes, guinea pig. this is very delicious for us, but i thinking that you keep these as pets, no?" yes, we do, but they are on the rodent-y side of pets and i'm wondering why you eat them when there are a lot more americans who would never want to pet one. "this is better than chicken!" was that a challenge melissa? and it was on. i went on a mission to find cuy. i marched myself all the way downtown and was hunting it down like a... guinea pig. lurking in and out of restaurant doors and back alleyways, nothing could stop me (except for my spanglish, which frustratingly, no one in Cuzco has mastered! it's a real problem on their part). then i ran into the Peruvian Indian Jones. i went into a travel agency to get directions and possibly finagle a pity lollipop out of her, when Indiana turns around with the 4pm dusky sun glowing through his thick black hair saying "Cuy? You wish to have cuy?" i wish to have you... i mean cuy, yes. "you must go to the town over. this is their specialty. here let me write this down for you." and your phone number. "que que?" nothing. directions in hand, i thank him profusely, which he brushes off in the most charming way and stands up to shake my hand. he is 9 ft tall. getting a good view of his belt buckle, i shake his hand, die a little inside, and walk away. 2 hours later i had a belly full of cuy to soften the blow, and while it doesn't quite make up for letting Indiana slip through my fingers (because i soooo had him! i think he found my smudged eyeliner quite alluring) it definitely was a pleasant experience. more pleasant at least than having a guinea pig as a pet, i imagine.
Concluding thoughts: I think it was one of the Great American founding Fathers, Mike Brady, who said, "Wherever you go, there you are." I think i found a bit more of myself in Cuzco, and in turn left a little piece of my heart there with them. Since most Peruvianos wear their hearts on their sleeves, how could i not return the favor?
gracias, Peru
Lima was nice but a bit too much of a grimy city feel until i hit the coast. there was this whole southern california vibe of old hippies and young, hot surfers and the obligatory little kid selling chicle on the beach because nothing says "beach scene" like winterfresh gum. I hung out with a really sweet girl from Norway and for anyone who knows me you can bet i got the skinny on their whole healthcare and education system and the conclusion that i ultimately reached was that their free education and healthcare is really fantastic, only it's located in NORWAY. i think it snows like 300 days a year and it's illegal to get into verbal arguments or use a Nordic Track since they did not give their consent for use of the country name. other than that, it really seems great. if you're not allergic to moose.
Went on to Cuzco and this place is wonderful. old school (meaning conquistador, "old school", son) cobblestone streets, churches and colonial buildings in the Plaza de Armas juxtaposed with the droves of women in more traditional "native" clothing that pretty muich consists of a large skirts with a lot of material to make it poof out a bit, big, men's loafer-type shoes, five long sleeved shirts topped off with a North Face jacket, a ringmaster's hat, and a baby wrapped in a huge colorful blanket on Lupita's back. and by the way, it made no difference how old Lupita was, she had a baby on her back. i guess Lupita was keeping it for her 15 yr old daughter, cum, baby mamita. many of these women are members of farmer families, but when you would see them in the Cuzco they were either there to sell food from carts or spent their days lugging buckets back and forth. not quite sure what this practice was about, but I was certain that the people at Human Rights Watch would be very interested to learn of the alarming lack of Chuck E. Cheese's for the children's amusement and the extent to which these women are forced to carry and even breastfeed their own babies. It's a travesty. Even despite this, the people of Cuzco werte probably the kindest most generous individuals I have had the pleasure of meeting. You ask for an inch, they give you a mile - that's the Peruvian way. I could not have been more appreciative. i admit it was a bit much when one woman tried to offer her husband to me, but i think there was something else going on there....
evidence of the Inca people is truly all over the country, everywhere, right in town squares, and stuff, so it wasn't hard to get a little old school history lesson (B.C. 'old school,' son) but of course there's not much that compares with Macchu Pichu. I am not really able to describe it with words, nor would i want to since any turn of a phrase i might employ would diminish its wonder. all i will say is that when i was there, i felt like i was in God's country. that's the best way to describe it outside of anything else any other person who's ever been there would say. it's all true. i will also say, i've been to the egyptian pyramids, and this was more breathtaking. supplies are limited so if you have the means and ability, i urge you to check it out before Starbucks puts a franchise there.
there was a little cuzco mascot that kept popping up all over the place, in tourist shops and supermarkets and when you would go book a trip, this little cartoon animal that resembled a hedgehog would be stuck on a wall in the corner. this little guy was personified all over t-shirts as bob marley, kurt cobain, even homer simpson and it would always say "cuy"underneath it. i couldn't figure this out. then i was at my travel agent/english student, melissa's, office, and i asked her. she cracked a sideways smile and looked at me a bit sheepishly under lidded eyes. "this is our food." i didn't understand. "we have food that is very traditional to cuzco that maybe americans do not like." i asked her to explain, but this time with more suspense and drama. "it is guinea pig." como se huh? "yes, guinea pig. this is very delicious for us, but i thinking that you keep these as pets, no?" yes, we do, but they are on the rodent-y side of pets and i'm wondering why you eat them when there are a lot more americans who would never want to pet one. "this is better than chicken!" was that a challenge melissa? and it was on. i went on a mission to find cuy. i marched myself all the way downtown and was hunting it down like a... guinea pig. lurking in and out of restaurant doors and back alleyways, nothing could stop me (except for my spanglish, which frustratingly, no one in Cuzco has mastered! it's a real problem on their part). then i ran into the Peruvian Indian Jones. i went into a travel agency to get directions and possibly finagle a pity lollipop out of her, when Indiana turns around with the 4pm dusky sun glowing through his thick black hair saying "Cuy? You wish to have cuy?" i wish to have you... i mean cuy, yes. "you must go to the town over. this is their specialty. here let me write this down for you." and your phone number. "que que?" nothing. directions in hand, i thank him profusely, which he brushes off in the most charming way and stands up to shake my hand. he is 9 ft tall. getting a good view of his belt buckle, i shake his hand, die a little inside, and walk away. 2 hours later i had a belly full of cuy to soften the blow, and while it doesn't quite make up for letting Indiana slip through my fingers (because i soooo had him! i think he found my smudged eyeliner quite alluring) it definitely was a pleasant experience. more pleasant at least than having a guinea pig as a pet, i imagine.
Concluding thoughts: I think it was one of the Great American founding Fathers, Mike Brady, who said, "Wherever you go, there you are." I think i found a bit more of myself in Cuzco, and in turn left a little piece of my heart there with them. Since most Peruvianos wear their hearts on their sleeves, how could i not return the favor?
gracias, Peru
Sunday, September 14, 2008
my word, and my balls...
at the risk of looking like a bad friend, i booked my ticket to medellin thinking i might have to save my friend. it´s not that i didn´t believe her when she would tell me about her life, but i would be lying if i said that i thought there wasn´t a baghdad-esque feel to the entire idea. this was all before the nuns.
landing in a steamy aeropuerto with drug sniffing dogs lurking around my lady-parts while a 17 yr old in an officer´s uniform with an AK-47 asks me whether i am married was actually exactly what i expected when landing in a third world country. what i did not expect was for the stereotype to end there. getting into a transport van toward medellin, the only other passengers were a stunning, maria conchita-alonso lookalike who was definitely going for a more low-key look in her nun´s habit, and her mother superior doing her best sophia petrillo impression. they immediately asked me where i was going and told me how much the peso was worth vs the dollar and how to 'just say no' in spanish. when they realized how tragic my spanglish was they took pity on me and instructed the driver where to go, which i almost took offense to since my friends in the Bronx think my spanish is the shit, but i decided to let it go. when maria gets off, sophia stays and tells me that she is getting off where i am. when she gets off and hails a cab for me then proceeds to get into the cab with me, i realize she said that she is taking me to my destination. i didn't want to seem cynical, but it looked a lot like i had my own divine bodyguard. cue the 'jesus is my co-pilot' theme song.
arriving at the hostel and meeting all the ppl jahan was living with, i got it completely. i could not have been made to feel more welcome by the cast of characters of an off-broadway play circa 1977 better than i was here. you have the wacky, fake grumpy, heart-of-gold manager german who calls everyone 'bitch' so much that everyone starts to answer to it. (guilty!). you have the gentle giant emmanuel who is shaq tall but of course i felt like i frightened him away (to be fair, i was naked at the time, so who can blame the poor guy). the ethereal beauties, aurora and lilliana, warm house mother viviana, little brother ryan, and of course, lisa bonet rounding out the cast. i was waiting for everyone to break out into song at some point, but instead we just got a whole lot of talk about politics, relationships, books, sex, food, and of course, arepas. still a sore subject, but i'll agree to disagree on that with you, aurora :)
the only 'activity' i actually got up to was paragliding which is right up there on the adrenaline scale as filing your taxes.... it was nice to see the city from up high but i probably could have gone to the top of the highest mountain and spun around in circles until i made myself dizzy for about 70mil less than what they robbed me for at the paragliding place. bitter, party of one....
the best was going to a concert for a group i've never heard of before, who sang songs i could not understand with shout outs that were lost on me, and it was THE SHIT! met my future husband, he just doesn't know it yet. let's just hope this one doesn't know how to obtain a restraining order...
concluding thoughts:
i think it was the large pharmaceutical distribution representative Tony Montana who once said, 'all i have in this world is my word and my balls, and i don't break them for nobody.'
i came to medellin as a test of whether i could keep my word to my friend and it ended up testing my balls. i feel like both are unbreakable.
gracias los gentes del casa del sol, jahan y medellin...
¡viva colombia!
landing in a steamy aeropuerto with drug sniffing dogs lurking around my lady-parts while a 17 yr old in an officer´s uniform with an AK-47 asks me whether i am married was actually exactly what i expected when landing in a third world country. what i did not expect was for the stereotype to end there. getting into a transport van toward medellin, the only other passengers were a stunning, maria conchita-alonso lookalike who was definitely going for a more low-key look in her nun´s habit, and her mother superior doing her best sophia petrillo impression. they immediately asked me where i was going and told me how much the peso was worth vs the dollar and how to 'just say no' in spanish. when they realized how tragic my spanglish was they took pity on me and instructed the driver where to go, which i almost took offense to since my friends in the Bronx think my spanish is the shit, but i decided to let it go. when maria gets off, sophia stays and tells me that she is getting off where i am. when she gets off and hails a cab for me then proceeds to get into the cab with me, i realize she said that she is taking me to my destination. i didn't want to seem cynical, but it looked a lot like i had my own divine bodyguard. cue the 'jesus is my co-pilot' theme song.
arriving at the hostel and meeting all the ppl jahan was living with, i got it completely. i could not have been made to feel more welcome by the cast of characters of an off-broadway play circa 1977 better than i was here. you have the wacky, fake grumpy, heart-of-gold manager german who calls everyone 'bitch' so much that everyone starts to answer to it. (guilty!). you have the gentle giant emmanuel who is shaq tall but of course i felt like i frightened him away (to be fair, i was naked at the time, so who can blame the poor guy). the ethereal beauties, aurora and lilliana, warm house mother viviana, little brother ryan, and of course, lisa bonet rounding out the cast. i was waiting for everyone to break out into song at some point, but instead we just got a whole lot of talk about politics, relationships, books, sex, food, and of course, arepas. still a sore subject, but i'll agree to disagree on that with you, aurora :)
the only 'activity' i actually got up to was paragliding which is right up there on the adrenaline scale as filing your taxes.... it was nice to see the city from up high but i probably could have gone to the top of the highest mountain and spun around in circles until i made myself dizzy for about 70mil less than what they robbed me for at the paragliding place. bitter, party of one....
the best was going to a concert for a group i've never heard of before, who sang songs i could not understand with shout outs that were lost on me, and it was THE SHIT! met my future husband, he just doesn't know it yet. let's just hope this one doesn't know how to obtain a restraining order...
concluding thoughts:
i think it was the large pharmaceutical distribution representative Tony Montana who once said, 'all i have in this world is my word and my balls, and i don't break them for nobody.'
i came to medellin as a test of whether i could keep my word to my friend and it ended up testing my balls. i feel like both are unbreakable.
gracias los gentes del casa del sol, jahan y medellin...
¡viva colombia!
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