Hombres y Mujeres. There is so much to say about this topic. Let`s face the facts - I am a twenty-something single female. I am almost always alone, wandering through the streets, restaurants, bars and nightclubs of South America. The men here aren`t exactly shy. To say that I attract attention from the opposite sex is a bit of an understatement. Attention is a look, a glance, a smile. No no no. I am talking about being caught in the eye of a tornado of machismo and repressed testosterone. I will literally be in my scruffiest, dirtiest clothes on my way to the kiosk to buy a phone card at 11AM, and my unshowered, unmakeuped, hungover, sorry ass state will illicit honks and catcalls from the side of the road. Obviously, it is flattering to get the right kind of male attention at the right time. But I have to say, there is a lot to be frustrated and annoyed about. And since, I have been told, my blog implies that I am experiencing nothing but sunshine and happiness, I guess that it`s time to get real for a moment. (This is a good moment to get real, actually - I am unwillingly stuck in a bus station for five hours.) I am not saying, by the way, that I am anything but constantly happy and infatuated by life. It is the thinking and reflection and search for truth that makes me constantly happy, even when the truth of the matter is uncomfortable or problematic.
So - I spent the past week in Buenos Aires, and then the past weekend in Montevideo, Uruguay. I have both observed and participated in countless social situations. I have been hit on over a hundred times. I have been grabbed by the arm or waist after politely trying to excuse myself from undesirable suitors - more times than I can count. I am not used to being touched, in any way, without at least having a friendly rapport with someone. Where I come from, it is impolite to even bump into someone, accidentally, without saying "excuse me." There is no such social guideline here - personal space doesn`t really exist. People touch you and bump into you constantly. Last Wednesday, I was having a conversation with my new friend Z, a well-educated, successful, thirty-something professional. We were talking about personal space, and he remembered that when he first met me, a week earlier, I sort of flinched when he put his hand on my arm. He explained that it is habit, sort-of, for a man to touch the woman with whom he is talking. This reflex must represent some sort of ownership-claiming - I don`t know - but it`s really annoying because it usually comes way before the female has expressed any interest or choice in the matter.
I was getting a LOT of attention from the after-work crowd at a bar last Wednesday night. I showed up at 10PM, which is the "get the party started" hour where I come from...but 10PM is happy hour in Buenos Aires, a city where they stay out until 6AM on worknights. Most of the people at this bar were still in suits, whereas I was wearing a brightly colored party dress and heals. I think that the outfit choice was a mistake. Z and I also discussed American girls´ clothing, which involved his amazement in Las Vegas (for Halloween) that not every girl dressed like a sexy Little Red Riding Hood was down to go home with him. The point is that I was being eaten alive in there and could not walk five feet without getting stopped and blocked by groups of men who thought that they had a shot at taking me home. The two people who I already knew, including Z, were doing a poor job at saving me from the vultures. The most annoying part is that I was only at this bar alone because I was to meet a guy who had taken me out on a date two days earlier...and so while every man in the place was trying to pick me up, I was also in the process of getting stood up. Aahh!
We have impossible choices as women. Images that we see tell us that beauty brings attention, and that attention is love, or something like that. And we want to feel sexy, and desirable, and of course loved, and so we get dolled up and hit the town only to feel like we are a commodity on the trading floor. There certainly is no love in that. Not many men seem to care about our agency in the matter - they don´t care about being chosen. They care about choosing. It is so frustrating when I can´t get an annoying guy to leave me alone without (a) lying about having a boyfriend, or (b) seeing another guy step in and say that I´m taken. So it is respect for the other guy that counts, not respect for me.
Everyone seems to have disbelief that I don´t have a boyfriend. "You - no boyfriend? Why?" or "You are so beautiful! Why no boyfriend?" What they mean is that they cannot believe that another man has not picked me up already. They cannot believe that another man does not want to be with me. They are missing a critical point: maybe I don´t want to be with just any man who wants to be with me. Ah! Lightbulb! Here´s an even more unbelievable notion: that maybe I don´t want to be exclusively with anyone right now. Complete blasphemy!
There is a dynamic to reckon with in tango that I need to discuss. I am completely infatuated by this dance, like I have said before. Tango is a gorgeous entanglement of shared yearning that is played out between man and woman. However, the dance originates from a place where immigrant men had no economic or political power, and they asserted control with a hypermasculinity that was played out in the brothels. Men completely control the dynamics of the entanglement in tango. It has become beautiful as it evolved over the years, but tango starts from a scary, dismal place for women. I think that my infatuation stems from an inherent complexity about what I, like many of my 21st century sisters, want from men. We want them to remain steady, focused, driven, and in-control over what makes us happy - but not in-control over us. And we want to have the same control over decisions that make them happy - if they let us. Tango lets us express that drive and control - but there is only room for one decision maker. I can completely surrender to the dance, get lost in the music, close my eyes and follow his lead...and then I am completely turned off when he tells me that it is not very "elegant" to flick my leg the way that I just did...or whatever. And then there´s the inevitable comment: "Honey, the man leads in tango." But what ebbs also flows, and before I know it I am lost in the dance again...feeling so desired, so much desire, and so alive.
It is so interesting how men can play different roles at different times. There was a prime example of this situation last Thursday as I was leaving the above-mentioned milonga. I was walking out - down the stairs - and two men who were talking in the doorway stopped their conversation and stared at me as I walked - wide-eyed, gaping stares. It´s really uncomfortable to feel like you are being stared at in such a hungry way - and it happens frequently because I am alone. I walked outside the building, and the two guys walked out after me, crossing the street to stand with their two friends who were trying to hail a taxi. I stood on the closer corner, planning on hailing a taxi as well. When the first taxi came, the men talked amongst themselves and then said something to me in Spanish - to which I responded, per usual, "No hablo Espanol." They laughed and were like, "You should take this cab - it is not safe for you out here alone - and wait, you don´t speak Spanish?! Why the hell are you alone?!" So they switched to being my protectors from being the men I need protection from. This transition always feels very strange.
I can´t tell you how many times I have been asked, incredulously, "Why are you traveling alone?" People think that I am crazy! I always thought that the hardest part of traveling alone was not having companionship - which is also, of course, the whole point. I am building companionship with the people around me out of necessity. To most people, however, the most incredible thing is that I am comfortable, as a woman, alone in South America. I feel like screaming, "OK, then just make it less uncomfortable for me dammit! Stop touching my arm, stop panting like a dog - whatever!"
Please don´t think that I am feeling this kind of frustration all of the time. I am absolutely loving Buenos Aires (and Montevideo). I ate steak four times last week. I am making friends and having wonderful, warm interactions with the people here all of the time. And no - not all of the men are creepy. Of course not. There are plenty around who leave me with nothing but smiles...
I am just dreaming for the day when the streets of this world are safe for all of us, and when there will be a dance as beautiful as tango where we take turns calling the shots.
Love to you all, muchos besos...xxxx, Katie
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Porteños
Buenos Aires! It is interesting to think about how many different moving parts, throughout the course of history, come into play in the creation of the dynamic of a big city - a place where so many people have lived, worked, and visited over many years. So many different decisions by so many different people...about where to form a street, where to live, where to move, where to create shops, where to build subways, what kind of buildings to build...whether to immigrate there or not...where to build the soccer stadium...etc. And in some cities, these decisions collide in complete disaster (traffic, pollution, crime, poverty, segregation, sprawl, whatever) while in other cities, they find harmony. I`m not saying that Buenos Aires is perfect...but it has a few things figured out! It is amazing! I could live here...the first time I have felt that kind of comfort and ¨fit¨ on this trip. The city is both historically charming and modern...public transportation is great...the food is delicious, both on street corners (empanadas!) and in very fine restaurants...there is a cosmopolitan, business-like sort of vibe...and yet people are playful and fun, creating an incredible nightlife that lasts until well into the morning...and don`t even get me started about tango. I love it so much here that I am staying for three weeks. I don`t want to be a visitor here - I want to feel like I live here.
So many things to report from the past few days, so I will just select a few. I have been networking constantly and have been hanging out with Argentines non-stop. I have had some fantastic lunch dates in Palermo Soho with friends of friends...what an amazing neighborhood of shops and cafes that feels like a mellowed out, European version of trendy Soho, NYC. I had the most delicious sirloin that I have ever tasted in a restaurant called La Brigada with another friend of friend. I don`t eat a lot of meat, but it was obvious that this cow was treated differently before it arrived on my plate...pampered on a diet of gourmet grass possibly. It was divine. The Argentinean Malbecs are divine as well.
I have been using a certain social networking site...without naming names...to find out about good nightclubs and bars to check out. I have made many friends already - the number of contacts in my new cell phone is impressive! These people hang out together in tighter knit circles than in New York or LA...so I have already been noticing that I am bumping into some of the same folks in the places I have been going. It`s great, I feel like I am a part of a community for a short while! And they are remembering me too. I think that I look like the people here...but the men claim otherwise. Apparently I stick out ¨like I have a big blinking sign on my forehead¨ according to one guy. I am still trying to figure out why. Maybe it is because I always have a somewhat blissful and confused look on my face because I am happy even though I have no idea what people are saying to me. Lucky for me, ¨no hablo espanol!¨ gets a response in English immediately everywhere I go...I feel quite guilty when I am hanging out with five other people and they are all speaking in English to each other so that I am included in the conversation. I must must must work on my Spanish.
I took my first tango lesson two days ago! It was fantastic! I can`t wait to go back for another class. I really do love to dance so much. Like Lulu Lemon says: ¨Eat, dance, floss, travel.¨ I am doing all four of those things. Last night I went clubbing with five other girls - they were all darling and we had so much fun. At the club, the DJ started a reggaeton set, which is up my alley...hip hops beats with Latin flavor. Some guys told my friend: ¨That girl is American?! How did she learn to dance like that?¨ So I promise, I represent you all well.
On Wednesday I went down to a working class neighborhood called La Boca. This is the spot, by the port, where the immigrants were dropped off...and it is where Italian immigrants settled in large numbers in the early 1900s. They build their houses out of scrap metal, and in true Italian artistic flavor, they wanted to make their very meager housing as beautiful as possible...so they ¨borrowed¨ paint from the shipyards and painted the houses bright yellow, red, blue, green. It´s that shear will of hardworking immigrants to make the most of what they have, and to have more, that makes the neighborhood so beautiful. This is where tango was born, in the bars, streets, and brothels...and you can hear a kind of bittersweet yearning, for more, in the swells of the music...it`s not too far from saudade.
The Italians moved out, and new immigrants have moved in...from Peru, Paraguay, and elsewhere. Your guide books tell you that you can`t wander outside the few block radius of the tourist mecca that has been created with government assistance...and you can very clearly see the demarcation points. On one block, the metal houses are brightly colored, with gift shops and restaurants and people eating on the street. On the next block, the paint is faded - pale red, pale yellow...with graffiti and garbage in the gutters. I got to see the real La Boca because I signed myself up to volunteer for the day at a community center. A coordinator took me and three others up into a third floor apartment in one of these metal shacks...and while conditions are better than in Rio`s favelas, they are not better by much. I saw leaks and rust, and things weren`t smelling too good. The small flat that I visited housed seven people, most of whom were at work at the time. I get very emotional when I see working class people living in conditions that my American sensibilities tell me are below the poverty line. My four grandparents were working class people, mining coal, operating machinery in steel factories, working in grocery stores, and installing ceilings. Their parents chose to take the boat to the United States, and as a result, their meager incomes still managed to pay for clean houses with insulation and sound plumbing, fresh food, and public education for their children that allowed my parents to go to college, move to NYC, and become young urban professionals...and then some. I have not seen that kind of opportunity here, and it is a damn shame.
But what I did see is amazing community and formidable spirit. The community center was phenomenal. I visited the kitchen and helped women cook and distribute food for themselves, their families, and their neighbors. It is a ¨you get what you give¨ kind of mentality, and everyone pitches in. There was also a textiles area where they sew clothes, and a classroom where volunteers teach English. Downstairs, the men were in the midst of making huge banners for a demonstration that was to happen a few days later. Apparently, the government has evicted a number of families from the flats that they rent so that the touristy area could be expanded. Now, more families are being evicted so that they can expand the soccer stadium in the neighborhood. The irony of the situation is that the owner of the local soccer club - the Boca Juniors - was elected major of Buenos Aires. The Boca Juniors are supposed to be the working class heros (although I don`t know how the residents of La Boca can afford to attend games). This owner apparently won the election because he garnered the support of working class voters who believed that he would stand up for them. Now he is uprooting a portion of the community to support his own business interests - which is crooked and appalling. I so admire the spirit of these residents for standing up for their own right to stay put.
There was something intriguing to note about these banners, by the way. All of them used the colors of the Argentinean flag - baby blue and white - and some of these were actually enormous flags with writing on top. It was fascinating that they used their country`s flag to protest their own government - a government which is supposedly represented by the flag. The people have reclaimed the flag for themselves. Not so in the United States, where we associate the red-white-and blue too often with right wing conservatives and nationalists who claim love of country but add disclaimers of race/gender/orientation/class. I don`t think that I saw a single American flag during the Los Angeles Pride parade...well - the point is that all of these cultural experiences are so stimulating - they continue to make me think, wonder, search for truth, and feel like I am moving closer to truth. I am so grateful for that - and for all of the wonderful smiles and hugs I got that day in La Boca.
Speaking of being grateful...I just moved into a friend of a friend`s incredible apartment in Palermo Hollywood, a gorgeous neighborhood full of restaurants and bars, cobblestone streets and trees. Palermo Hollywood is a far cry from La Boca. I am so lucky to have a place to call home for the next two weeks, as I have already moved three times since arriving last weekend. It felt incredible to unpack...and I slept so well last night in a comfortable bed. (Or, rather, from 6AM until noon...Buenos Aires is a dance 'til dawn kind of place!) I think that it is time that I leave this internet cafe and return home...step out onto the balcony, soak up the city, and get ready for another night as a porteño. I like the sound of that!
Much love to my Angelenos and New Yorkers...and Jersey Guys and Jersey Girls...and Paulistas and Mineros...saudades! xx, Katie
So many things to report from the past few days, so I will just select a few. I have been networking constantly and have been hanging out with Argentines non-stop. I have had some fantastic lunch dates in Palermo Soho with friends of friends...what an amazing neighborhood of shops and cafes that feels like a mellowed out, European version of trendy Soho, NYC. I had the most delicious sirloin that I have ever tasted in a restaurant called La Brigada with another friend of friend. I don`t eat a lot of meat, but it was obvious that this cow was treated differently before it arrived on my plate...pampered on a diet of gourmet grass possibly. It was divine. The Argentinean Malbecs are divine as well.
I have been using a certain social networking site...without naming names...to find out about good nightclubs and bars to check out. I have made many friends already - the number of contacts in my new cell phone is impressive! These people hang out together in tighter knit circles than in New York or LA...so I have already been noticing that I am bumping into some of the same folks in the places I have been going. It`s great, I feel like I am a part of a community for a short while! And they are remembering me too. I think that I look like the people here...but the men claim otherwise. Apparently I stick out ¨like I have a big blinking sign on my forehead¨ according to one guy. I am still trying to figure out why. Maybe it is because I always have a somewhat blissful and confused look on my face because I am happy even though I have no idea what people are saying to me. Lucky for me, ¨no hablo espanol!¨ gets a response in English immediately everywhere I go...I feel quite guilty when I am hanging out with five other people and they are all speaking in English to each other so that I am included in the conversation. I must must must work on my Spanish.
I took my first tango lesson two days ago! It was fantastic! I can`t wait to go back for another class. I really do love to dance so much. Like Lulu Lemon says: ¨Eat, dance, floss, travel.¨ I am doing all four of those things. Last night I went clubbing with five other girls - they were all darling and we had so much fun. At the club, the DJ started a reggaeton set, which is up my alley...hip hops beats with Latin flavor. Some guys told my friend: ¨That girl is American?! How did she learn to dance like that?¨ So I promise, I represent you all well.
On Wednesday I went down to a working class neighborhood called La Boca. This is the spot, by the port, where the immigrants were dropped off...and it is where Italian immigrants settled in large numbers in the early 1900s. They build their houses out of scrap metal, and in true Italian artistic flavor, they wanted to make their very meager housing as beautiful as possible...so they ¨borrowed¨ paint from the shipyards and painted the houses bright yellow, red, blue, green. It´s that shear will of hardworking immigrants to make the most of what they have, and to have more, that makes the neighborhood so beautiful. This is where tango was born, in the bars, streets, and brothels...and you can hear a kind of bittersweet yearning, for more, in the swells of the music...it`s not too far from saudade.
The Italians moved out, and new immigrants have moved in...from Peru, Paraguay, and elsewhere. Your guide books tell you that you can`t wander outside the few block radius of the tourist mecca that has been created with government assistance...and you can very clearly see the demarcation points. On one block, the metal houses are brightly colored, with gift shops and restaurants and people eating on the street. On the next block, the paint is faded - pale red, pale yellow...with graffiti and garbage in the gutters. I got to see the real La Boca because I signed myself up to volunteer for the day at a community center. A coordinator took me and three others up into a third floor apartment in one of these metal shacks...and while conditions are better than in Rio`s favelas, they are not better by much. I saw leaks and rust, and things weren`t smelling too good. The small flat that I visited housed seven people, most of whom were at work at the time. I get very emotional when I see working class people living in conditions that my American sensibilities tell me are below the poverty line. My four grandparents were working class people, mining coal, operating machinery in steel factories, working in grocery stores, and installing ceilings. Their parents chose to take the boat to the United States, and as a result, their meager incomes still managed to pay for clean houses with insulation and sound plumbing, fresh food, and public education for their children that allowed my parents to go to college, move to NYC, and become young urban professionals...and then some. I have not seen that kind of opportunity here, and it is a damn shame.
But what I did see is amazing community and formidable spirit. The community center was phenomenal. I visited the kitchen and helped women cook and distribute food for themselves, their families, and their neighbors. It is a ¨you get what you give¨ kind of mentality, and everyone pitches in. There was also a textiles area where they sew clothes, and a classroom where volunteers teach English. Downstairs, the men were in the midst of making huge banners for a demonstration that was to happen a few days later. Apparently, the government has evicted a number of families from the flats that they rent so that the touristy area could be expanded. Now, more families are being evicted so that they can expand the soccer stadium in the neighborhood. The irony of the situation is that the owner of the local soccer club - the Boca Juniors - was elected major of Buenos Aires. The Boca Juniors are supposed to be the working class heros (although I don`t know how the residents of La Boca can afford to attend games). This owner apparently won the election because he garnered the support of working class voters who believed that he would stand up for them. Now he is uprooting a portion of the community to support his own business interests - which is crooked and appalling. I so admire the spirit of these residents for standing up for their own right to stay put.
There was something intriguing to note about these banners, by the way. All of them used the colors of the Argentinean flag - baby blue and white - and some of these were actually enormous flags with writing on top. It was fascinating that they used their country`s flag to protest their own government - a government which is supposedly represented by the flag. The people have reclaimed the flag for themselves. Not so in the United States, where we associate the red-white-and blue too often with right wing conservatives and nationalists who claim love of country but add disclaimers of race/gender/orientation/class. I don`t think that I saw a single American flag during the Los Angeles Pride parade...well - the point is that all of these cultural experiences are so stimulating - they continue to make me think, wonder, search for truth, and feel like I am moving closer to truth. I am so grateful for that - and for all of the wonderful smiles and hugs I got that day in La Boca.
Speaking of being grateful...I just moved into a friend of a friend`s incredible apartment in Palermo Hollywood, a gorgeous neighborhood full of restaurants and bars, cobblestone streets and trees. Palermo Hollywood is a far cry from La Boca. I am so lucky to have a place to call home for the next two weeks, as I have already moved three times since arriving last weekend. It felt incredible to unpack...and I slept so well last night in a comfortable bed. (Or, rather, from 6AM until noon...Buenos Aires is a dance 'til dawn kind of place!) I think that it is time that I leave this internet cafe and return home...step out onto the balcony, soak up the city, and get ready for another night as a porteño. I like the sound of that!
Much love to my Angelenos and New Yorkers...and Jersey Guys and Jersey Girls...and Paulistas and Mineros...saudades! xx, Katie
Monday, February 25, 2008
Argentina
So how do you transition from one great country to another? You hang out on the border for a few days, where there just happens to be one of the greatest works of God that our planet has to offer. The perfect gateway between one journey and the next, where a river literally explodes into two meandering pieces, and then with newfound energy the water wanders onward. A fitting place to reflect and celebrate Brazil, and then burst forward with arms wide open into Argentina. The mighty, mighty, unbelievably beautiful - and enormous- Iguazu Falls. When Eleanor Roosevelt had her first glimpse of them, she exclaimed, "Poor Niagara"...
My introduction to the falls began last Wednesday night. After arriving on the Brazilian side in the pouring rain, and almost not getting my passport stamped upon leaving Brazil (you have to be every clear with your taxi driver that he needs to stop at customs), I got to my hostel on the Argentinean side and looked up at a cloudy sky. Discouraging - as we were due for a full moon that night, and I had been looking forward to the chance to see the falls by moonlight. Not only was it due to be a full moon, but a total eclipse of the moon as well, beginning at around 11:45 PM and lasting several hours into the night. I had the utmost faith that nature would give me the perfect moon walk, and lo and behold, the clouds parted! So I boarded a bus, and then boarded a tram, and then began a 20 minute walk by moonlight on a foot bridge across the Iguazu River.
Before you can see the falls, you can hear them. This is not the sound of a dripping faucet. You´re starting to get closer, and you know that you are about to see something special. Something rare. The sound is far away, but it´s huge. You are getting closer, and it is getting louder, and you can feel the mist in the air. It starts to feel like it´s raining. You have been walking across this river for 20 minutes, and the water has been so placid...and now it is about to hurl itself off of a cliff in a fit of passion. You are approaching the most impressive part of the falls, called Devil´s Throat, and when you arrive, you are surrounded by 260 degrees of falling water. Of water about to fall 2300 feet.
The river and the falling water around you is absolutely illuminated by moonlight. Illuminated! Glowing! I was so taken aback- it was one of those moments where your jaw drops and you don´t even realize that you have the purest, simplest, surprised look of joy on your face until you look around and see that everyone around you looks the same way that you feel. I tried to take a few photos, but even in night mode the camera does not come close to capturing the moment-and so I put the camera away. I soaked it all in - and got soaked! On our walk back across the river, the moon started eclipsing. This timing could not have been more perfect because we had maximum light at the falls, and then minimum light pollution to distract from the beauty of the eclipse when we got back to town. I went to sleep after watching the moon go from white to red.
The next day was wild fun. I spent the morning taking a jeep ride through the jungle and then getting completely drenched on a boat ride that took me underneath one of the waterfalls. Drenched! The best part of the boat ride was the wild energy of the Argentines who were accompanying me. This boat ride was so much fun that it was impossible not to yell and scream and laugh like kids. And when Argentines are happy and in celebration, there is an association that their brains make with - you guessed it - soccer. And so we all sang (I hummed) soccer songs for the duration of the ride. Great fun. The sun was hot, and so I dried quickly while hiking around the park- each glimpse of the falls more beautiful than the last. I´m not going to lie - I was quite snap-happy at this point! I decided not to visit the Brazilian side of the falls - I had already said goodbye - and I like having a reason to return.
Friday was a long day of airport delays (- the pilots were on strike)...but don´t cry for me. There was a light at the end of the tunnel- Buenos Aires! On my taxi ride from the airport to my hostel, the taxi driver rolled down the windows and turned up the volume and began singing Argentinean opera at the top of his lungs. We drove past the Obelisco, the Casa Rosada and the Plaza de Mayo. I closed my eyes and could see Evita speaking to the masses from the balcony. This place is so atmospheric!
On Saturday I explored the Microcentro and had lunch at Cafe Tortoni, the city´s oldest cafe and a regular haunt of Jorge Luis Borges and other great Argentine writers. Later, I had dinner and drinks in trendy Palermo Hollywood with some friends who I met while traveling in Brazil. I LOVE this city. It feels Spanish or Italian - there is a street cafe culture, beautiful architecture, dinner starts late, and nightclubs stay open all night. But in addition, there is something in the air that reminds me of New York. Like New York, Buenos Aires feels like a city of immigrants - and it is. I can see the signs of Italian immigrants everywhere - not the least of which are the pizzerias on every corner. Immigrants came here to build a new life but they brought their music, their food, and the importance of extended family with them.
Yesterday, I wandered through the historic, bohemian barrio of San Telmo for its famous Sunday markets. I first heard the music, and then saw the crowd, and moved in closer. And - ah! My first glimpse of tango! A man and a woman, in their sixties, were dancing tango in the street, cheek to cheek. The eight-man tango group played and tried to sell CDs in the background. But for that couple, no one else was around...and all eyes were on them. I watched in awe at the tension, and then the release...the drama of this dance. I am in love.
I wandered into a restaurant called El Balcon and sat down to have my first piece of Argentine beef and glass of Malbec. There were about 30 people inside this small restaurant, and shortly after I sat down, a woman climbed onto the small stage with two musicians and began singing. I thought - how atmospheric! Perfect! But wait. She stepped down after two songs, and a young couple replaced her, dressed in a suit and a dress. The music swelled and they started dancing. I was so moved by the connection that this couple had on stage that I got goosebumps and felt like I was trespassing on a private moment. They had to have been lovers...I do not know how you can dance with another person like that and not be.
I continued to sit there stunned after they finished the dance, at which point they came into the restaurant and started to talk to the other patrons around me in Spanish. The male dancer walked up to me and said something. I said "No hablo Espanol, Americana..." and he said "Do you dance?" and I said "Not yet..." and he said "Yes you do!" and he grabbed my hand and led me around all of the little tables and pulled me on stage. I said "No really - I have only taken two tango classes, and they were months ago..." and he smiled smuggly and said "Don´t worry"...and then the music started. And so I turned my face to the right and let him pull me in close, and we started to tango. I did not miss a beat during the entire dance. It was like my body went into auto-pilot. You just listen to what the man´s body is saying to you, and feel the music, and go. It felt incredible. He smiled at me and exclaimed "That was great!", and everyone cheered, and two different people asked for my email address so that they can send the pictures that they took of me on stage. I was so completely elated. When I left the restaurant, there was a public milonga - a social dance - in the square outside. I signed myself up to attend one of the best dinner/tango shows for tonight, and then I will begin additional lessons. TANGO! I am so hooked!
I will report back soon. So happy! Besos! Katie
My introduction to the falls began last Wednesday night. After arriving on the Brazilian side in the pouring rain, and almost not getting my passport stamped upon leaving Brazil (you have to be every clear with your taxi driver that he needs to stop at customs), I got to my hostel on the Argentinean side and looked up at a cloudy sky. Discouraging - as we were due for a full moon that night, and I had been looking forward to the chance to see the falls by moonlight. Not only was it due to be a full moon, but a total eclipse of the moon as well, beginning at around 11:45 PM and lasting several hours into the night. I had the utmost faith that nature would give me the perfect moon walk, and lo and behold, the clouds parted! So I boarded a bus, and then boarded a tram, and then began a 20 minute walk by moonlight on a foot bridge across the Iguazu River.
Before you can see the falls, you can hear them. This is not the sound of a dripping faucet. You´re starting to get closer, and you know that you are about to see something special. Something rare. The sound is far away, but it´s huge. You are getting closer, and it is getting louder, and you can feel the mist in the air. It starts to feel like it´s raining. You have been walking across this river for 20 minutes, and the water has been so placid...and now it is about to hurl itself off of a cliff in a fit of passion. You are approaching the most impressive part of the falls, called Devil´s Throat, and when you arrive, you are surrounded by 260 degrees of falling water. Of water about to fall 2300 feet.
The river and the falling water around you is absolutely illuminated by moonlight. Illuminated! Glowing! I was so taken aback- it was one of those moments where your jaw drops and you don´t even realize that you have the purest, simplest, surprised look of joy on your face until you look around and see that everyone around you looks the same way that you feel. I tried to take a few photos, but even in night mode the camera does not come close to capturing the moment-and so I put the camera away. I soaked it all in - and got soaked! On our walk back across the river, the moon started eclipsing. This timing could not have been more perfect because we had maximum light at the falls, and then minimum light pollution to distract from the beauty of the eclipse when we got back to town. I went to sleep after watching the moon go from white to red.
The next day was wild fun. I spent the morning taking a jeep ride through the jungle and then getting completely drenched on a boat ride that took me underneath one of the waterfalls. Drenched! The best part of the boat ride was the wild energy of the Argentines who were accompanying me. This boat ride was so much fun that it was impossible not to yell and scream and laugh like kids. And when Argentines are happy and in celebration, there is an association that their brains make with - you guessed it - soccer. And so we all sang (I hummed) soccer songs for the duration of the ride. Great fun. The sun was hot, and so I dried quickly while hiking around the park- each glimpse of the falls more beautiful than the last. I´m not going to lie - I was quite snap-happy at this point! I decided not to visit the Brazilian side of the falls - I had already said goodbye - and I like having a reason to return.
Friday was a long day of airport delays (- the pilots were on strike)...but don´t cry for me. There was a light at the end of the tunnel- Buenos Aires! On my taxi ride from the airport to my hostel, the taxi driver rolled down the windows and turned up the volume and began singing Argentinean opera at the top of his lungs. We drove past the Obelisco, the Casa Rosada and the Plaza de Mayo. I closed my eyes and could see Evita speaking to the masses from the balcony. This place is so atmospheric!
On Saturday I explored the Microcentro and had lunch at Cafe Tortoni, the city´s oldest cafe and a regular haunt of Jorge Luis Borges and other great Argentine writers. Later, I had dinner and drinks in trendy Palermo Hollywood with some friends who I met while traveling in Brazil. I LOVE this city. It feels Spanish or Italian - there is a street cafe culture, beautiful architecture, dinner starts late, and nightclubs stay open all night. But in addition, there is something in the air that reminds me of New York. Like New York, Buenos Aires feels like a city of immigrants - and it is. I can see the signs of Italian immigrants everywhere - not the least of which are the pizzerias on every corner. Immigrants came here to build a new life but they brought their music, their food, and the importance of extended family with them.
Yesterday, I wandered through the historic, bohemian barrio of San Telmo for its famous Sunday markets. I first heard the music, and then saw the crowd, and moved in closer. And - ah! My first glimpse of tango! A man and a woman, in their sixties, were dancing tango in the street, cheek to cheek. The eight-man tango group played and tried to sell CDs in the background. But for that couple, no one else was around...and all eyes were on them. I watched in awe at the tension, and then the release...the drama of this dance. I am in love.
I wandered into a restaurant called El Balcon and sat down to have my first piece of Argentine beef and glass of Malbec. There were about 30 people inside this small restaurant, and shortly after I sat down, a woman climbed onto the small stage with two musicians and began singing. I thought - how atmospheric! Perfect! But wait. She stepped down after two songs, and a young couple replaced her, dressed in a suit and a dress. The music swelled and they started dancing. I was so moved by the connection that this couple had on stage that I got goosebumps and felt like I was trespassing on a private moment. They had to have been lovers...I do not know how you can dance with another person like that and not be.
I continued to sit there stunned after they finished the dance, at which point they came into the restaurant and started to talk to the other patrons around me in Spanish. The male dancer walked up to me and said something. I said "No hablo Espanol, Americana..." and he said "Do you dance?" and I said "Not yet..." and he said "Yes you do!" and he grabbed my hand and led me around all of the little tables and pulled me on stage. I said "No really - I have only taken two tango classes, and they were months ago..." and he smiled smuggly and said "Don´t worry"...and then the music started. And so I turned my face to the right and let him pull me in close, and we started to tango. I did not miss a beat during the entire dance. It was like my body went into auto-pilot. You just listen to what the man´s body is saying to you, and feel the music, and go. It felt incredible. He smiled at me and exclaimed "That was great!", and everyone cheered, and two different people asked for my email address so that they can send the pictures that they took of me on stage. I was so completely elated. When I left the restaurant, there was a public milonga - a social dance - in the square outside. I signed myself up to attend one of the best dinner/tango shows for tonight, and then I will begin additional lessons. TANGO! I am so hooked!
I will report back soon. So happy! Besos! Katie
Saturday, February 23, 2008
One more thing -
- to sum it all up.
While bikini shopping:
"I´m Brazilian - I have a claustrophobic ass"
-you know who you are
xxxx
Friday, February 22, 2008
Saudade
Saudade. What is this mysterious Brazilian word all about anyway? I had heard about saudade before I even came to Brazil - always accompanied by "You can`t translate it." OK, so what does that mean? Maybe there´s no word in English that directly corresponds, but surely it can be defined in a sentence, right? Sure.
If you are going to Brazil, be forewarned: when you come back home, if you do, you will have added a few special words to your emotional vocabulary. You will join us in the group that knows the feeling yet cannot explain the meaning of the word...saudade. If you can explain it, you`ve made a poor translation. It has a place of its own, it changes you more than your vocabulary.
If you haven`t been somewhere but yearn to see it, you may be getting a glimpse of saudade. It means longing for someone or something, more or less in the realm of "I miss you," in English. Yet, it carries more than longing, more than missing. Yearning...a hole carved in one´s heart, a feeling which stands on its own as much as it permeates one´s whole being...It simply cannot be translated.
A Brazilian person has saudade or feels saudade. "Tenho saudades do Brasil" or "Sinto saudades"...portraits of a melancholic yet sweet longing. It transports me there when I say it.
-Neise Cavini Turchin, "Longing for Brazil."
Longing. Pining. Loss. My whole body knows that I have left Brazil.
Brazil feels like oxygen to me. It feels like a life-force, like a necessity for life. Brazil made me feel alive, more than ever. It gave me the most human moments that are to be had. It gave me love and friendship and life on the edge with enough risk to give you goosebumps that remind you that you are mortal, and that you need other people. I already knew that I need other people - relationships make the world go ´round - but Brazil gives you people who have the time and the heart to be your people...even if just for a week, or a day, or a moment.
The other night in Sao Paulo, my friend Fabio asked me what I will miss most about Brazil. I answered that in Brazil, people are not afraid to feel love, even if they know it´s not for forever. They are not afraid to cross that line, even if they know the moment will pass. They don´t think logically, as in "What´s the point of connecting with this American girl if I might never see her again?" No. Here, every moment is worth it. Let´s make this moment mean something, together. And then, when we part, let´s share in the moment and the feeling and the yearning of that loss. Let´s pine after that moment together, even when we are apart. Let us relish in saudade...together. It´s worth it. That is what I love about Brazil, and that is what I miss about Brazil...love and saudade start feeling the same. It is in the longing that we feel love, and in longing we come back again...it is in the ebb and flow that we feel alive.
So, to my Brazilian friends...endless thanks to all of you for this gift. I love you all, and I promise - I will come back again.
E SAUDADE QUE BATE NO MEU CORAÇÃO. -Jamil
The saudade that beats in my heart. Love always, Katie
If you are going to Brazil, be forewarned: when you come back home, if you do, you will have added a few special words to your emotional vocabulary. You will join us in the group that knows the feeling yet cannot explain the meaning of the word...saudade. If you can explain it, you`ve made a poor translation. It has a place of its own, it changes you more than your vocabulary.
If you haven`t been somewhere but yearn to see it, you may be getting a glimpse of saudade. It means longing for someone or something, more or less in the realm of "I miss you," in English. Yet, it carries more than longing, more than missing. Yearning...a hole carved in one´s heart, a feeling which stands on its own as much as it permeates one´s whole being...It simply cannot be translated.
A Brazilian person has saudade or feels saudade. "Tenho saudades do Brasil" or "Sinto saudades"...portraits of a melancholic yet sweet longing. It transports me there when I say it.
-Neise Cavini Turchin, "Longing for Brazil."
Longing. Pining. Loss. My whole body knows that I have left Brazil.
Brazil feels like oxygen to me. It feels like a life-force, like a necessity for life. Brazil made me feel alive, more than ever. It gave me the most human moments that are to be had. It gave me love and friendship and life on the edge with enough risk to give you goosebumps that remind you that you are mortal, and that you need other people. I already knew that I need other people - relationships make the world go ´round - but Brazil gives you people who have the time and the heart to be your people...even if just for a week, or a day, or a moment.
The other night in Sao Paulo, my friend Fabio asked me what I will miss most about Brazil. I answered that in Brazil, people are not afraid to feel love, even if they know it´s not for forever. They are not afraid to cross that line, even if they know the moment will pass. They don´t think logically, as in "What´s the point of connecting with this American girl if I might never see her again?" No. Here, every moment is worth it. Let´s make this moment mean something, together. And then, when we part, let´s share in the moment and the feeling and the yearning of that loss. Let´s pine after that moment together, even when we are apart. Let us relish in saudade...together. It´s worth it. That is what I love about Brazil, and that is what I miss about Brazil...love and saudade start feeling the same. It is in the longing that we feel love, and in longing we come back again...it is in the ebb and flow that we feel alive.
So, to my Brazilian friends...endless thanks to all of you for this gift. I love you all, and I promise - I will come back again.
E SAUDADE QUE BATE NO MEU CORAÇÃO. -Jamil
The saudade that beats in my heart. Love always, Katie
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Hospitality
I have been out of touch, I know, but it is only because I have been busy, not because I do not have a lot to say. I have so much to say! I am so lucky to have been plugged into a network of people here who have become my friends and allowed me to know Brazil the way I wanted to know it. I spent my time in Belo Horizonte, and now in São Paulo, without visiting a single tourist attraction listed in my guidebook about those cities. Instead, I have spent time around family dinner tables, watched novellas (Brazilian soap operas) with friends, gone shopping with the girls, experienced the flow of the Brazilian work day, visited the family beach house...I am so lucky.
To begin I must acknowledge the incredible graciousness of my aunt´s friend Helio and his family. It was Helio who arranged my trip to Salvador for Carnaval and introduced me to Nelsinho and the whole crowd up there. That gift has kept on giving, as I now feel like I have friends in every Brazilian city! When I visited Belo Horizonte, Helio´s family received me at their home and we had a lovely meal and excellent conversation. It felt so good to be in a real home after several weeks of traveling - and while battling my cold, it felt so good to be taken care of! Ana Catarina, Helio´s wife, promptly responded to my sniffles with tissues, extra strength Tylenol, and - this is amazing - Airbourne! Yes! That fizzy goodness that makes you feel so much better when you´re sick. You can´t get it in Brazil, but the family buys all of their medicine in the US when they´re visiting. Again, lucky lucky me. After dinner, we enjoyed coffee and dessert while watching a little bit of the Discovery Channel´s Planet Earth documentary - something my Dad would definitely enjoy. This whole evening was a little dose of home that was so good for the soul.
In Belo Horinzonte I was staying at Nelsinho´s apartment with his wonderful roommates Roberta, Melucia, and Leo. When I arrived, Nelsinho´s room had been prepared for me - he was to sleep in the living room - complete with gifts from the tourist bureau of Minas Gerais and homemade posters saying "Welcome Katie! Brazil is happy with your presence!" and "We wish you a beautiful horizon!" How amazing is that?! Nelsinho is so absolutely thoughtful and selfless, and his hospitality is overwhelming. After a good night´s sleep, Melucia made lunch for me, Betânea, and Patricia. Betânea you know about from Morro de São Paulo. Patricia is the official translator in Nelsinho´s office, and the person who he tasked with making sure I had everything I needed - including friendship - during my stay in Belo. Patricia did everything for me - she took me shopping, helped me ship a package home to the US, brought me to an organic health food restaurant, showed me the internet cafe, took me dancing at a nightclub, etc. She is such a lovely person - words can barely describe. She had just met me and yet cared so much about my happiness and experience in Brazil. Patricia made a bracelet that she gave me as we said goodbye - "to remember me...and to new friendship." Yes, to new friendship! I cannot wait to receive some of these folks in the US to repay their hospitality and enjoy their company once again.
Speaking of hospitality, I now move on to my incredible friend Claudinha, who I have been staying with for the past few days in São Paulo. Claudinha and I were roommates at Carnaval, and she insisted that I visit her in São Paulo before I left Brazil. When I was having trouble booking my flight, she booked it for me. When she read that I was craving a good salad, she set off to bring me to the best salad bar I have ever experienced in my life. She set me up in my own room at her adorable house with incredible bay windows. She asked her maid to do my laundry. She brought me to Starbucks and I had the best venti soy chai latte of my life. Oh...and then there´s her dreamy brother. What did I do to deserve all of this?!
After arriving in São Paulo on Friday, I took a taxi to Claudinha´s office (she is an architect who has her own business, distributing and installing home devices like water filters and towel heaters). We walked to a very swanky mall, had lunch, and did some window shopping - which is endlessly fascinating both for the people watching and fashion scoping. By the way, when I say swanky I mean swanky. There was a denim store selling ordinary 7 jeans for R$1000 - like $600. We then drove home to Claudinha´s house - a distance, by the way, that would have been easily walkable if we hadn´t been carrying nice bags and wearing nice clothes. I began to learn the ropes of home security in São Paulo - when you pull up to your driveway, you keep the car 40 feet back as the enormous gate opens. You watch, observe, and make sure no bad guys appear. If they do, you let them have the house and you speed off in the car. Otherwise, you pull in, wait until the enormous gate closes completely, and then disable your home alarm system (which you also keep active at night, by the way, meaning you better have enough water upstairs to last until morning or you will wake all of the neighbors.) The security at Claudinha´s parents´ lovely house is a whole other echelon all-together involving calling the street´s security guard from your cell phone as you drive up and asking him to open the gate. There is barbed wire involved. Once inside the gate, you feel like you are at Fallingwater in Pennsylvania, except that you need a key to open any window or sliding glass door - from the inside or outside. Brazil is a crazy, crazy place.
On Friday night at around 10PM, we did as the Paulistas do - we packed the car and headed to the beach for the weekend. More amazing Brazilian beach time! Claudinha´s family rents two houses all year long that are next to each other at Barra do Sahy beach, about two hours north of São Paulo. When you arrive, you park the car on the side of a dirt road and walk for ten minutes on a path through the "forest" before you arrive at the houses. I do not know what I was expecting from the "forest," but let me tell you - this was a tropical rain-forest. I do not think that I had ever been inside a rain-forest before - it is amazing! The vegetation is so incredibly lush and beautiful. It is humid as all hell, but before you know it you arrive at the most darling little tropical cottages with candles lit everywhere, colorful hammocks and pillows, and an amazing ocean breeze. In the morning I could finally see the beach - it is a gorgeous cove with a river running down from the hills along the north side and spilling into the ocean. You are surrounded by hills of rain-forest. There is a huge island visible right off the coast that people take boats to all day long. We had to wade through the river to get across to the beach! Um...I´m not in Kansas anymore. This ain´t no Jersey shore. I am constantly amazed by the variety we have on this incredible planet, and how many beautiful little spots are tucked away in all corners of the world. Being in nature is so illuminating. It is fascinating to think about the string of events that had to occur to create this place, and then to allow me to find myself here.
Yes people, I do have a little bit of a tan - not impressive by Brazilian standards, but just enough to give me some glow. I spent the weekend playing on the beach with Claudinha, her boyfriend Digo, and Digo´s sister Cy. There was also Claudinha´s brother Lú and his absolutely adorable twin three year old boys, Arthur and Gregório. Oh my goodness, the most precious children speaking the most adorable Portuguese. It was so special to have some family time and to see the love, care, and closeness that Brazilians have with their children. Everyone becomes a kid when kids are around, especially here. Between splashing around in the ocean, playing with sprinklers, eating lots of ice-cream, and watching cartoons, these kids had the best weekend ever and we were along for the ride. I also got to experience a full-on after-beach Brazilian barbecue with more friends - Luba, Cris and Nacache. Lú is a professional chef and the food was incredible. We topped the weekend off with a tropical rain storm - it didn´t last long, but it was the most spectacular rain I had ever seen. Such fun!!
I am back in São Paulo and will have a reunion with Tati, Carol, and others from Carnaval tonight. Then I am off to Iguaçu Falls tomorrow for the total lunar eclipse. Feeling so blessed and so fulfilled. Brazil, I´m in love.
Talk to you soon, many many beijos, Katie
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Time Out!
Haha, well, there is a price for everything, isn´t there? You can´t expect to romp around Carnaval for 5 days and then romp around Morro for four days with minimal sleep, minimal nourishing food, and people constantly sweating on you/breathing on you/sipping your drink/trying to kiss you/actually kissing you without maybe paying for it. Oh yes. I caught a terrible cold. I think a major part of the problem was that I was not eating well at all. Here´s the conundrum - I am picky about meat and dairy. I don´t really like dairy most of the time. Sometimes it can be delicious, but usually it grosses me out. When you combine hot hot weather with strange foreign dairy tastes, it´s even worse. But the problem is that everything in most countries I have traveled to, including Brazil, contains dairy. Cheese. Everywhere. And if it doesn´t have cheese, it has meat. Meat meat meat. Everywhere. None of these things are especially easy to digest, or healthy, and therefore are completely unappetizing. I am seriously considering being a Skinny Bitch in the Kitch convert when I get home. (And remember I´m a Brown grad - there are environmental reasons as well - check it out.)
But veganism is impossible here. So I am trying to get by. But it´s not easy. Now - here´s where it gets tougher. The usual alternative to all of these cooked dishes containing meat and dairy is to order a salad. Or some fruit. Oh how I long for a delicious crunchy salad with a yummy olive oil based dressing. But, all of the uncooked fruits and vegetables in Brazil have been making me sick. Especially in remote areas like Jericoacoara and Morro de São Paulo. The produce has been in contact with the water, and the water is not good for the American stomach. HUGE problem. I have been so malnourished - Mom, I know you hate to hear it, but it´s true. So, when you combine the lack of strength with all of the saliva swapping, you end up with a very sniffly, congested, coughy, weak little chicken.
Oh, hahaha, and, I forgot to insert an important part of the story that I told two entries ago about my amazing beach run in Morro with wet sneakers. Well - I was so high on life after my run/sunset swim that you can imagine my excitement upon returning to beach 2 when I saw a capoeira gathering in full force. So amazing. The energy and excitement and sheer skill and talent is so beautiful. I watched for a moment, and then I saw my friend Isaac who said "You should have your camera, you need to tape this stuff!" and I said "You´re right!" So - I ran across the beach to my pousada and I ran down the tiled path past the pool, and as I neared the stairs...I slid into home base. Yeah. I totally and completely wiped out. So gracefully, it´s true, but I WIPED OUT. I landed right on my left hip and then right on my left elbow. I am so lucky - thank you God -that I did not break any bones because my trip would have been over. I definitely learned a lesson (that I will probably have to keep learning, but still) - pictures are not that important. Don´t run on wet tile. All of those things.
So by Sunday morning I have an achy body from my cold and an achy body from my fall and bags that are all together too heavy, and I hurt my back...poor Katie. Don´t feel too badly for me. What goes up must come down and then back up again - that´s what makes this whole thing real and the great moments so awesome! And, I have been recovering over the past few days in a lovely, adorable, charming historic town called Ouro Preto, which is in the hills of the state of Minas Gerais. It is darling. I am staying in a lovely restored pousada in a room with a view of the bustling street...there are at least ten gorgeous churches, treasures from the Baroque period, visible on every hilltop...the art inside of the churches is divine, lavished in the gold and other riches that were mined from this region in the colonial era...it is pretty fantastic. I am loving my book - an incredible collection of travelers´ tales from all over Brazil - highly recommended for anyone who has been to this special country or wants to know it. The internet cafe is closing - I must depart. I will be one with the night again tomorrow while barhopping in Belo Horizonte, and then I´m off to São Paulo to visit new friends for the weekend. Life is grand. Talk to you soon, bjs, K
But veganism is impossible here. So I am trying to get by. But it´s not easy. Now - here´s where it gets tougher. The usual alternative to all of these cooked dishes containing meat and dairy is to order a salad. Or some fruit. Oh how I long for a delicious crunchy salad with a yummy olive oil based dressing. But, all of the uncooked fruits and vegetables in Brazil have been making me sick. Especially in remote areas like Jericoacoara and Morro de São Paulo. The produce has been in contact with the water, and the water is not good for the American stomach. HUGE problem. I have been so malnourished - Mom, I know you hate to hear it, but it´s true. So, when you combine the lack of strength with all of the saliva swapping, you end up with a very sniffly, congested, coughy, weak little chicken.
Oh, hahaha, and, I forgot to insert an important part of the story that I told two entries ago about my amazing beach run in Morro with wet sneakers. Well - I was so high on life after my run/sunset swim that you can imagine my excitement upon returning to beach 2 when I saw a capoeira gathering in full force. So amazing. The energy and excitement and sheer skill and talent is so beautiful. I watched for a moment, and then I saw my friend Isaac who said "You should have your camera, you need to tape this stuff!" and I said "You´re right!" So - I ran across the beach to my pousada and I ran down the tiled path past the pool, and as I neared the stairs...I slid into home base. Yeah. I totally and completely wiped out. So gracefully, it´s true, but I WIPED OUT. I landed right on my left hip and then right on my left elbow. I am so lucky - thank you God -that I did not break any bones because my trip would have been over. I definitely learned a lesson (that I will probably have to keep learning, but still) - pictures are not that important. Don´t run on wet tile. All of those things.
So by Sunday morning I have an achy body from my cold and an achy body from my fall and bags that are all together too heavy, and I hurt my back...poor Katie. Don´t feel too badly for me. What goes up must come down and then back up again - that´s what makes this whole thing real and the great moments so awesome! And, I have been recovering over the past few days in a lovely, adorable, charming historic town called Ouro Preto, which is in the hills of the state of Minas Gerais. It is darling. I am staying in a lovely restored pousada in a room with a view of the bustling street...there are at least ten gorgeous churches, treasures from the Baroque period, visible on every hilltop...the art inside of the churches is divine, lavished in the gold and other riches that were mined from this region in the colonial era...it is pretty fantastic. I am loving my book - an incredible collection of travelers´ tales from all over Brazil - highly recommended for anyone who has been to this special country or wants to know it. The internet cafe is closing - I must depart. I will be one with the night again tomorrow while barhopping in Belo Horizonte, and then I´m off to São Paulo to visit new friends for the weekend. Life is grand. Talk to you soon, bjs, K
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Meanwhile, back in LA
I have the best friends and just want them to know how much I love and miss them!!!! And, of course, that goes for the incredible friends and family that I have in New York and the dirty jerz as well :)
Many people have asked me why I decided to travel alone, and why I decided to come to South America. This is a hard question to answer without feeling cliche. I think that the right answer is that I am traveling for the people I am meeting and human moments I am experiencing, not because of any grand vistas or pieces of architecture. I was starting to feel locked up in routine at home and was craving drama, romance, and heightened emotion. From what I had heard and read, South America is one of the best places in the world to get in touch with humanity because people are so open and expressive about their feelings, experiences, and love for life. And from what I´ve seen, they are members of their families and communities before they are single individuals. I am a headstrong American gal - nothing´s going to change that - and so I have struggled when expected to forsake my individualism for a group mentality. Even so, being a part of these group relationships has been incredibly enriching. As the only foreigner around, I feel like I have been let in on inner secrets that describe what makes South Americans so fulfilled, even though they don´t always have has many material riches as most Americans I know. They enjoy and love each other, far and wide. These experiences with people have confirmed, loud and clear, how incredible my own group dynamics are at home, and how lucky I am to have the faithful, loyal, insightful, stimulating, loving friends and family that I have. It will be such a gift to have you all back. xoxo
They say that there are nice beaches in Brazil...
Um...YEAH. There are. Yes there are. I spent the last few days recovering from Carnaval in another amazing utopic beach town that is amazing by Jericoacoara standards. This place is called Morro de São Paulo - it is on the island of Tinharé, about 20 minutes off the coast of Salvador by plane. However, instead of flying, we took the four hour long bus-boat-bus-boat route on Ash Wednesday beginning at 7AM after not sleeping a wink - still drunk from the last night of Carnaval - and in fact Carnaval was still going strong when we wearily dragged our bodies and our bags into the filthy street in the midst of the last thumping beats of axe and samba. It took a few hours for the hangover, or ressaca, to even rear its ugly head..."still drunk" more properly described my state of Carnaval-bliss mixed with the fact that my brain was still marinating in vodka. Yuck. But that´s why you go to a place like Morro to have the best four day ressaca of your life.
Morro is an adorable hilly village with sand streets and no cars. The only way to get your bags from the port to where you´re staying is to hire a wheelbarrow taxi! The streets are lined with restaurants, bikini shops, local art galleries, and pousadas. At night, lots and lots of vendors set up tables where they sell handmade jewelry, fresh juice and assorted cocktails, baked goods...you name it. I think that the village is pretty quiet during most of the year...but after Carnaval in Salvador it is the premier destination to enjoy your ressaca. So, you end up with a gathering of the most gorgeous party people you have ever seen. Seriously. The beaches on the island are uniquely numbered 1,2,3, and 4...and after checking into a pousada in town we quickly realized that beach 2 was the place to be. It´s like an all day party followed by an all night party...you just drink and dance and prance around on the beach 24 hours a day. So, needless to say, we changed pousadas and stayed right on beach 2.
I was traveling with Nelsinho and Betânea, and other friends of ours were staying in various locations around beach 2 as well. Nelsinho and Betânea are hilarious - the BEST people to travel with. Nelsinho and I can communicate really really well when you consider the fact that we each speak about 20 words in the others´ language. We like teaching words to each other. We totally suck at pronunciation. I can´t get the "ão" nasal sound that they have in Portuguese, and he can´t get hard consonants like "er". The most fun is trying to get Nelsinho to say "air conditioner." "Nelsinho - say er." "Oh." "No - er." "Oh." "ER." "OH." Hilarious.
Betânea is one of the most cheerful life-loving people on this planet - she also speaks English well, and so she has been the key translator for me - I am so indebted. We had a moment the other night when we realized that we knew some of the same English songs by heart, and we could sing together. Let me set the stage - first of all, the power on this island went off three times during our four day stay because the grid is not accustomed to having so many people here at once. I got made fun of but was totally appreciated as the prepared American traveler who had a flashlight. When the power goes out, everyone just kind of shrugs their shoulders and starts drinking. The entire beach, with all of the pousadas, restaurants, and bars, is lit by candlelight anyway. However, town is a little dark. Also, because stereos don´t work without electricity, the streets are not ringing with Carnaval music. You have an occasional singer with an acoustic guitar strumming out some Carlinhos Brown, but there are some quiet moments. So - we decided to make our own music as we skipped through the dark streets on our way back from dinner. Some key favorites - "Man - I feel like a woman!" by Shania Twain and "Torn" by Natalie Imbrulia. It is the most adorable thing ever to scream "Man shirts, short skirts!!" into the night with your new Brazilian best friend - and meanwhile you are looking at THE most perfect sky with a trillion stars, and you feel so far from home because half of the stars you´ve rarely seen before...and yet you are singing Shania karaoke.
I have been having so many crazy moments that are so new and so familiar at the same time. The stars in all of their glory keep me grounded - they remind me of my place in this universe, that I am so small in relation to the powers that be...and yet I am powerful enough to have put myself in this spectacular place. It is empowering and energizing to feel that I can have complete control over my own happiness, even though I am so small, and this world is so big. Or maybe it´s because I am so small, and this world is so big...like "hey world, don´t mind me as I go about my business having an incredibly fun and fulfilling life!"
Some of the best moments that I had in Morro were when I went on my sunset jogs up the beaches to beach 4, which is the farthest away and the most remote. When you are jogging you get so many waves and smiles from locals and foreigners alike. Because the tide was high on Friday evening, I was jumping onto the porches of a lot of the restaurants and pousadas on beach 3 to avoid getting wet - I was in my sneakers and had my ipod shuffle. I was sort of playing a game with the ocean to see how far I could go before having to turn around. At one point these local workers saw me and started laughing and egging me on. I saw this amazing crab that literally looked like it was the miniature model for the monsters in War of the Worlds, and it was having a great time getting bounced around by the waves. All of the people walking back from beach four were letting the warm water lap up their legs. And so I reached the tipping point and said screw it - my sneakers will dry - and I began to run and splash in the water, and it was such a release. It was exactly what I wanted and needed. It´s ok to get wet and sandy and dirty and roll around in the waves. The best part about this moment is that as soon as I went beyond this palm tree that was half submerged, I found two friends who I had made on the beach earlier in the day - Ana and Clarissa. I tied my ipod to the palm tree and went for a swim, and it was so fulfilling. I am having so much fun figuring out ways to be playful with my life. It is completely unbelievable that I have only been gone for three weeks - I have lived every day so fully and with so much intent that it seems as though I have been gone for months. On my way back to the pousada, the same local guys saw that I had gotten wet, and they laughed and cheered. One started playing capoeira with me - the best! So much fun!
My Brazilian friends have been joking that I attract all of the most handsome Latin men - and yes I mean drop dead gorgeous - because I am "new meat - white meat!" Yes, sadly I have not been passing for Brazilian as often here - several people have come up to me and just said "Hi" and not "Ola", etc. But nevermind. It´s good to be a foreigner sometimes. So - I´m the new white meat. After the phrase was coined, my Brazilian friends start making fun of me, squawking like chickens. This has a fun double meaning because a "chicken" in Brazil is someone who kisses a lot. Go figure. So, I´m their little white American girl chicken mascot. There are worse problems to be had, don´t ya think?
I will try to post again tomorrow to get all of you caught up on Belo Horizonte and Ouro Preto. Love you all! Bjs Bjs Bjs! ~Katie
Morro is an adorable hilly village with sand streets and no cars. The only way to get your bags from the port to where you´re staying is to hire a wheelbarrow taxi! The streets are lined with restaurants, bikini shops, local art galleries, and pousadas. At night, lots and lots of vendors set up tables where they sell handmade jewelry, fresh juice and assorted cocktails, baked goods...you name it. I think that the village is pretty quiet during most of the year...but after Carnaval in Salvador it is the premier destination to enjoy your ressaca. So, you end up with a gathering of the most gorgeous party people you have ever seen. Seriously. The beaches on the island are uniquely numbered 1,2,3, and 4...and after checking into a pousada in town we quickly realized that beach 2 was the place to be. It´s like an all day party followed by an all night party...you just drink and dance and prance around on the beach 24 hours a day. So, needless to say, we changed pousadas and stayed right on beach 2.
I was traveling with Nelsinho and Betânea, and other friends of ours were staying in various locations around beach 2 as well. Nelsinho and Betânea are hilarious - the BEST people to travel with. Nelsinho and I can communicate really really well when you consider the fact that we each speak about 20 words in the others´ language. We like teaching words to each other. We totally suck at pronunciation. I can´t get the "ão" nasal sound that they have in Portuguese, and he can´t get hard consonants like "er". The most fun is trying to get Nelsinho to say "air conditioner." "Nelsinho - say er." "Oh." "No - er." "Oh." "ER." "OH." Hilarious.
Betânea is one of the most cheerful life-loving people on this planet - she also speaks English well, and so she has been the key translator for me - I am so indebted. We had a moment the other night when we realized that we knew some of the same English songs by heart, and we could sing together. Let me set the stage - first of all, the power on this island went off three times during our four day stay because the grid is not accustomed to having so many people here at once. I got made fun of but was totally appreciated as the prepared American traveler who had a flashlight. When the power goes out, everyone just kind of shrugs their shoulders and starts drinking. The entire beach, with all of the pousadas, restaurants, and bars, is lit by candlelight anyway. However, town is a little dark. Also, because stereos don´t work without electricity, the streets are not ringing with Carnaval music. You have an occasional singer with an acoustic guitar strumming out some Carlinhos Brown, but there are some quiet moments. So - we decided to make our own music as we skipped through the dark streets on our way back from dinner. Some key favorites - "Man - I feel like a woman!" by Shania Twain and "Torn" by Natalie Imbrulia. It is the most adorable thing ever to scream "Man shirts, short skirts!!" into the night with your new Brazilian best friend - and meanwhile you are looking at THE most perfect sky with a trillion stars, and you feel so far from home because half of the stars you´ve rarely seen before...and yet you are singing Shania karaoke.
I have been having so many crazy moments that are so new and so familiar at the same time. The stars in all of their glory keep me grounded - they remind me of my place in this universe, that I am so small in relation to the powers that be...and yet I am powerful enough to have put myself in this spectacular place. It is empowering and energizing to feel that I can have complete control over my own happiness, even though I am so small, and this world is so big. Or maybe it´s because I am so small, and this world is so big...like "hey world, don´t mind me as I go about my business having an incredibly fun and fulfilling life!"
Some of the best moments that I had in Morro were when I went on my sunset jogs up the beaches to beach 4, which is the farthest away and the most remote. When you are jogging you get so many waves and smiles from locals and foreigners alike. Because the tide was high on Friday evening, I was jumping onto the porches of a lot of the restaurants and pousadas on beach 3 to avoid getting wet - I was in my sneakers and had my ipod shuffle. I was sort of playing a game with the ocean to see how far I could go before having to turn around. At one point these local workers saw me and started laughing and egging me on. I saw this amazing crab that literally looked like it was the miniature model for the monsters in War of the Worlds, and it was having a great time getting bounced around by the waves. All of the people walking back from beach four were letting the warm water lap up their legs. And so I reached the tipping point and said screw it - my sneakers will dry - and I began to run and splash in the water, and it was such a release. It was exactly what I wanted and needed. It´s ok to get wet and sandy and dirty and roll around in the waves. The best part about this moment is that as soon as I went beyond this palm tree that was half submerged, I found two friends who I had made on the beach earlier in the day - Ana and Clarissa. I tied my ipod to the palm tree and went for a swim, and it was so fulfilling. I am having so much fun figuring out ways to be playful with my life. It is completely unbelievable that I have only been gone for three weeks - I have lived every day so fully and with so much intent that it seems as though I have been gone for months. On my way back to the pousada, the same local guys saw that I had gotten wet, and they laughed and cheered. One started playing capoeira with me - the best! So much fun!
My Brazilian friends have been joking that I attract all of the most handsome Latin men - and yes I mean drop dead gorgeous - because I am "new meat - white meat!" Yes, sadly I have not been passing for Brazilian as often here - several people have come up to me and just said "Hi" and not "Ola", etc. But nevermind. It´s good to be a foreigner sometimes. So - I´m the new white meat. After the phrase was coined, my Brazilian friends start making fun of me, squawking like chickens. This has a fun double meaning because a "chicken" in Brazil is someone who kisses a lot. Go figure. So, I´m their little white American girl chicken mascot. There are worse problems to be had, don´t ya think?
I will try to post again tomorrow to get all of you caught up on Belo Horizonte and Ouro Preto. Love you all! Bjs Bjs Bjs! ~Katie
Friday, February 8, 2008
A Fila Andou!
Carnaval, Carnaval...where to begin? First - I am so indebted to a dear friend of my Aunt Kathy named Helio. Helio was there the day I was born - in fact, I got my first limo ride on the way home from the hospital thanks to Helio. He has been so gracious and giving to me and my family throughout my whole life. When he found out that I was traveling in Brazil during Carnaval, he arranged to have me stay with his dear friend/surrogate son Nelsinho and friends. Nelsinho is so thoughtful and feels a deep sense of responsibility for me - it is so sweet and overwhelming. Nelsinho is kind of the jokester/class clown of the group - not that I can understand any of his jokes, but they´re funny anyway! The really special thing about the group that I stayed with is that most people only knew one or two other people before arriving at Carnaval. You would never ever know this - after two days it would seem as if everyone knew each other for years.
There is something special about Brazilian culture that allows people to open up and love each other so quickly. In the US we often feel like we need to "get to know someone" before we can love them, which in a deeper, long-term sense is true. However, we miss opportunities to care about people and show affection in the here and now, even if we don´t know whether we will see them again or stay in touch. There is a correlation between how near-strangers can bond so quickly and how Brazilians talk about love. They actually have two words for love, whereas in English we only have one. Adore is what they use to explain their love for most things - friends, food, music, dancing, life, etc. Amo is reserved for deep, true love - like the love that you have for your family, or the love you have for the person you want to marry. Because "amo" is reserved for the deep, true, serious stuff, they are free to spread "adore" to everyone and everything, far and wide. An example would be this amazing guy Chico, who lived in Salvador and only knew one person in our group. Chico drove me to his house to let me use the internet...he drove me to the mall so that I could fix my broken cell phone...he drove others around so that they could make Carnaval arrangements...he was such a gracious person. I have been so touched by Chico and others like him who I have met here in Brazil.
I shared an apartment in Salvador with three amazing single gals, as well as the most adorable, lovely couple ever. The girls were named Tati (say "Tachi"), Claudia (say "Clauginya"), and Betânea. The couple was André and Carol. There were two other Carols in our group as well, staying elsewhere, as well as another lovely girl named Luciana. In the apartment right above us, there were probably six or seven guys, including Nelsinho. (Apparently there was a bet up there about which one would kiss the American girl first - that cost all of them their chances.) Our apartments had incredible views of the end of one of the parade routes. We could hear the music until all hours of the night and watch the action from the balcony if we needed a break from the streets. Most importantly, we were spit out right in front of our building after the parades were over, so we didn´t have to walk through the streets to get home, which was such a relief.
The business of partying at Carnaval is, well, serious business. Tati epitomized this kind of commitment - I think that this year was her eighth Carnaval in Salvador. She knew exactly which parades (blochos) and VIP parties (camarotes) she wanted to go to, and mastered the skill of networking/negotiating/bartering to ensure that she could gain entrance. Entrance is basically gained by having the right t-shirt with the appropriate design and logo. Here´s how it works - starting on Ash Wednesday, a year before the next year´s Carnaval, the t-shirts start going on sale. These on-sale dates continue throughout the year. Local people camp for days to buy the shirts at retail prices. Essentially ALL of the actual purchases of the shirts by the people who will attend these events occur on the black market. However, the black market is incredibly organized - it blew my mind. On last Friday morning, we drove to this stadium somewhere in the city, and all of the vendors had stalls set up where you could pick up the shirts that you ordered on the internet. Outside, there are cash sales and trading going on. At one point, Tati traded two shirts and some additional cash to get a shirt for the best parade - Chiclete com Banana, performing on the electric trio (sound truck) with the best sound.
There are hundreds (or maybe more) of events that you need a shirt to gain entrance to. Imagine - six days times four parade routes times maybe 30 parades per route per day, plus VIP areas lined up along the perimeter of all of the routes on both sides of the street. So - there are hundreds of thousands of people wearing these shirts at any one time, plus even more people in the streets because they can´t afford to pay - they call the crowded rowdy streets the "popcorn." The shirts add a collegiate sort of aspect to all of the fun - you sort of feel like you are on the same "team" as the people wearing the same jersey as you - not a surprising system to have developed in a country that is obsessed with the beautiful game - the dance, the opera - that is soccer.
Something that you quickly learn when you are attending Carnaval with hip, fashionable Brazilian girls is that you never leave the house in an unaltered shirt. The shirts are cut for men and are usually way too big. Some of the best times we had were using scissors to cut and tie our shirts into cute halter tops, tube tops, cropped tops, etc. Claudia was the master of this art form, as was one of the Carols, who works in fashion and actually used a sowing machine to create the perfect style. So adorable!
You might be wondering why I chose to attend Carnaval in Salvador instead of Rio. In Rio, Carnaval is essentially a competition between all of the major samba schools that parade in beautiful costumes, dance and play music, and then are judged and ranked. You can sometimes pay to dance with the samba schools, but usually you are in the popcorn. The VIP areas are really exclusive and expensive and not always where the young/hip/fun crowd goes. The streets in Rio are really really really dangerous during Carnaval - people die every year.
Salvador is where Brazilians go when they want to have a "Spring Break/American Pie" kind of Carnaval. (It was so funny when they used those words to describe it to me.) In Salvador, the VIP areas (camarotes) are amazing too, and a huge party - I´m talking 100% open bar with servers walking around, all you can eat appetizers, sandwiches, pasta, sushi...some had free internet access, massages, hair stylists...nightclubs inside playing techo and house...live bands inside and access to the beach...so so so incredible. But, the real reason to come to Salvador is that you essentially are the parade - you´re not watching, you´re creating the magic yourself! The music is completely infectious - the genre is called Axe (say "ashay"), and it´s a blend of energetic Latin sounds with African beats. A friend of a friend told me that I would feel so passionately about this music by the end of the week, and he was right. I don´t even know what I´m singing half the time, and I can´t imagine what it must be like for Brazilians who are constantly uniting in the meaning of this music. The lyrics make you feel so great: "I´m single!" "Smash everything!" "She is too good!" "I´m from all the world!" The raw energy in the blochos is the most exhilerating atmosphere I have ever been a part of. I felt so passionate about everything in front of me and everything in my life. I felt so good to be me - I felt so desired and I felt so much desire. I felt like I never wanted to stop singing, dancing, smiling, kissing, hugging, laughing...NEVER! I will carry that feeling with me and will never forget.
That´s all I will say. What happens at Carnaval stays at Carnaval, right?!
When in Brazil, do as the Brazilians do, and so I send love love love to all of you. xoxo, Katie
There is something special about Brazilian culture that allows people to open up and love each other so quickly. In the US we often feel like we need to "get to know someone" before we can love them, which in a deeper, long-term sense is true. However, we miss opportunities to care about people and show affection in the here and now, even if we don´t know whether we will see them again or stay in touch. There is a correlation between how near-strangers can bond so quickly and how Brazilians talk about love. They actually have two words for love, whereas in English we only have one. Adore is what they use to explain their love for most things - friends, food, music, dancing, life, etc. Amo is reserved for deep, true love - like the love that you have for your family, or the love you have for the person you want to marry. Because "amo" is reserved for the deep, true, serious stuff, they are free to spread "adore" to everyone and everything, far and wide. An example would be this amazing guy Chico, who lived in Salvador and only knew one person in our group. Chico drove me to his house to let me use the internet...he drove me to the mall so that I could fix my broken cell phone...he drove others around so that they could make Carnaval arrangements...he was such a gracious person. I have been so touched by Chico and others like him who I have met here in Brazil.
I shared an apartment in Salvador with three amazing single gals, as well as the most adorable, lovely couple ever. The girls were named Tati (say "Tachi"), Claudia (say "Clauginya"), and Betânea. The couple was André and Carol. There were two other Carols in our group as well, staying elsewhere, as well as another lovely girl named Luciana. In the apartment right above us, there were probably six or seven guys, including Nelsinho. (Apparently there was a bet up there about which one would kiss the American girl first - that cost all of them their chances.) Our apartments had incredible views of the end of one of the parade routes. We could hear the music until all hours of the night and watch the action from the balcony if we needed a break from the streets. Most importantly, we were spit out right in front of our building after the parades were over, so we didn´t have to walk through the streets to get home, which was such a relief.
The business of partying at Carnaval is, well, serious business. Tati epitomized this kind of commitment - I think that this year was her eighth Carnaval in Salvador. She knew exactly which parades (blochos) and VIP parties (camarotes) she wanted to go to, and mastered the skill of networking/negotiating/bartering to ensure that she could gain entrance. Entrance is basically gained by having the right t-shirt with the appropriate design and logo. Here´s how it works - starting on Ash Wednesday, a year before the next year´s Carnaval, the t-shirts start going on sale. These on-sale dates continue throughout the year. Local people camp for days to buy the shirts at retail prices. Essentially ALL of the actual purchases of the shirts by the people who will attend these events occur on the black market. However, the black market is incredibly organized - it blew my mind. On last Friday morning, we drove to this stadium somewhere in the city, and all of the vendors had stalls set up where you could pick up the shirts that you ordered on the internet. Outside, there are cash sales and trading going on. At one point, Tati traded two shirts and some additional cash to get a shirt for the best parade - Chiclete com Banana, performing on the electric trio (sound truck) with the best sound.
There are hundreds (or maybe more) of events that you need a shirt to gain entrance to. Imagine - six days times four parade routes times maybe 30 parades per route per day, plus VIP areas lined up along the perimeter of all of the routes on both sides of the street. So - there are hundreds of thousands of people wearing these shirts at any one time, plus even more people in the streets because they can´t afford to pay - they call the crowded rowdy streets the "popcorn." The shirts add a collegiate sort of aspect to all of the fun - you sort of feel like you are on the same "team" as the people wearing the same jersey as you - not a surprising system to have developed in a country that is obsessed with the beautiful game - the dance, the opera - that is soccer.
Something that you quickly learn when you are attending Carnaval with hip, fashionable Brazilian girls is that you never leave the house in an unaltered shirt. The shirts are cut for men and are usually way too big. Some of the best times we had were using scissors to cut and tie our shirts into cute halter tops, tube tops, cropped tops, etc. Claudia was the master of this art form, as was one of the Carols, who works in fashion and actually used a sowing machine to create the perfect style. So adorable!
You might be wondering why I chose to attend Carnaval in Salvador instead of Rio. In Rio, Carnaval is essentially a competition between all of the major samba schools that parade in beautiful costumes, dance and play music, and then are judged and ranked. You can sometimes pay to dance with the samba schools, but usually you are in the popcorn. The VIP areas are really exclusive and expensive and not always where the young/hip/fun crowd goes. The streets in Rio are really really really dangerous during Carnaval - people die every year.
Salvador is where Brazilians go when they want to have a "Spring Break/American Pie" kind of Carnaval. (It was so funny when they used those words to describe it to me.) In Salvador, the VIP areas (camarotes) are amazing too, and a huge party - I´m talking 100% open bar with servers walking around, all you can eat appetizers, sandwiches, pasta, sushi...some had free internet access, massages, hair stylists...nightclubs inside playing techo and house...live bands inside and access to the beach...so so so incredible. But, the real reason to come to Salvador is that you essentially are the parade - you´re not watching, you´re creating the magic yourself! The music is completely infectious - the genre is called Axe (say "ashay"), and it´s a blend of energetic Latin sounds with African beats. A friend of a friend told me that I would feel so passionately about this music by the end of the week, and he was right. I don´t even know what I´m singing half the time, and I can´t imagine what it must be like for Brazilians who are constantly uniting in the meaning of this music. The lyrics make you feel so great: "I´m single!" "Smash everything!" "She is too good!" "I´m from all the world!" The raw energy in the blochos is the most exhilerating atmosphere I have ever been a part of. I felt so passionate about everything in front of me and everything in my life. I felt so good to be me - I felt so desired and I felt so much desire. I felt like I never wanted to stop singing, dancing, smiling, kissing, hugging, laughing...NEVER! I will carry that feeling with me and will never forget.
That´s all I will say. What happens at Carnaval stays at Carnaval, right?!
When in Brazil, do as the Brazilians do, and so I send love love love to all of you. xoxo, Katie
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