Parabéns means congratulations in Portuguese and there seems to be a lot of it going around these days. Last night at my capoeira academy, we had a mini-ceremony for a few people who are going to miss our big annual ceremony/performance (called a batizado) at the end of this month. Oh -- the energy!!!! Everyone seemed to be playing on one of those trampolines I mentioned in an earlier post. Bouncing, flying, smiling, falling & bouncing back up again. It was heaven to watch and bliss to play. There is something about an entire room consciously giving good, strong energy to everyone else in the room that is so amazing. In the midst of personal dramas, injuries, challenges, and the day-to-day grind of life, I sometimes lose this feeling throughout the year. But every so often, and always during batizado time, the energy takes over and all I feel is love and home.
Coming back to New York from two months in Denver vacationland was tough, and I jumped in head first into work, planning for the fall semester and re-organizing my apartment after my subletter moved almost all of my stuff around. This year, I'm also coordinating the big batizado event which means taking care of tons of little, yet really crucial details. But even though it has been tough (oh how I miss the evening meals with Wade and his fresh-squeezed watermelon juice and how my face hurt from so much laughing), coming back has been a delight, too. Planning for the event is going very smoothly, all of my work is coming together nicely, and even the weather is really nice again (no AC last night!!).
But last night at the academy was when I really felt like I was 'back' -- and in a good way. I am a lucky girl, for sure.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Urban Assault Stumblebums
This weekend, Wade and I (aka Team Stumblebum) completed the Urban Assault Ride here in Denver, a 25-ish mile bike race that is really a scavenger hunt for locations to complete obstacles that are really just an excuse to be silly all day long http://www.urbanassaultride.com/. We volunteered all day the day before by helping with registration packet pickup so that we could do the race for free (score!!!). The day of the race was super fun as we scampered from place to place facing silly challenges like a downhill slip and slide, mini-trike race, and finding three different cans of beer in a pool full of beer cans. The ride itself was no joke -- we accidentally chose the almost-entirely-uphill route -- but was still pretty mellow.
I'm winding up my last week here and, let me tell you, I am not ready for it to end. I'm excited to be coming back home to friends and family and my bed and shoe variety, but there are so many reasons why I don't want to leave:
1. The weather. It is perfect, even though it is very hot and a little humid lately. The sun blasts down every day until the afternoon showers roll in (and force me back inside to get work done). The evenings are warm, but often with a nice cool breeze.
2. The flowers. Wildflowers are everywhere here, usually in overgrown patches along the sidewalks or on the sloping lawns in front of houses. Those patches are full of lilies, columbines, snapdragons, roses, daisies, hollyhocks and more.
3. The bike rides. The weather is always perfect for a bike ride. The slopes are hardly ever too steep and if they are too steep, they are brief. The view is always nice and overall the drivers are nice too.
4. The hottie. Without really trying, I began dating someone here. He's super sweet and smart and gorgeous. I will miss him.
5. The mangoes. At first, they were 10 for $10. Now they're 2 for $1. At those prices, I could nap in a tub full of mango meat. But instead, I've been eating them. Lots of them. With delicious yogurt. Mmmm.
6. The best buddy. I realized something big this summer and here it is: There is no one on this earth with whom I feel more comfortable with than my best buddy, Wade. He has been my bestie for 20 years and knows more about me than anyone ever has or probably ever will. He's a great long-distance friend and always has been --we always stay in close touch, no matter which time zone or country we're living in, even in the long-lost era when long distance phone calls and letters stuffed full of pictures were the only way to keep updated. But, logistically, it's been years since we've been so close for so long. I could write forever about how great it has been to be around for the day-to-day. I'm so happy that I could make his trip happen, especially because we are in a time of our lives when both us us really needed this kind of friend-therapy. It has been truly perfect, every day.
So, instead of giving into this feeling of sadness that it is ending, I am just going to focus on how grateful I am that this time was possible. Sighhhhhh.
I'm winding up my last week here and, let me tell you, I am not ready for it to end. I'm excited to be coming back home to friends and family and my bed and shoe variety, but there are so many reasons why I don't want to leave:
1. The weather. It is perfect, even though it is very hot and a little humid lately. The sun blasts down every day until the afternoon showers roll in (and force me back inside to get work done). The evenings are warm, but often with a nice cool breeze.
2. The flowers. Wildflowers are everywhere here, usually in overgrown patches along the sidewalks or on the sloping lawns in front of houses. Those patches are full of lilies, columbines, snapdragons, roses, daisies, hollyhocks and more.
3. The bike rides. The weather is always perfect for a bike ride. The slopes are hardly ever too steep and if they are too steep, they are brief. The view is always nice and overall the drivers are nice too.
4. The hottie. Without really trying, I began dating someone here. He's super sweet and smart and gorgeous. I will miss him.
5. The mangoes. At first, they were 10 for $10. Now they're 2 for $1. At those prices, I could nap in a tub full of mango meat. But instead, I've been eating them. Lots of them. With delicious yogurt. Mmmm.
6. The best buddy. I realized something big this summer and here it is: There is no one on this earth with whom I feel more comfortable with than my best buddy, Wade. He has been my bestie for 20 years and knows more about me than anyone ever has or probably ever will. He's a great long-distance friend and always has been --we always stay in close touch, no matter which time zone or country we're living in, even in the long-lost era when long distance phone calls and letters stuffed full of pictures were the only way to keep updated. But, logistically, it's been years since we've been so close for so long. I could write forever about how great it has been to be around for the day-to-day. I'm so happy that I could make his trip happen, especially because we are in a time of our lives when both us us really needed this kind of friend-therapy. It has been truly perfect, every day.
So, instead of giving into this feeling of sadness that it is ending, I am just going to focus on how grateful I am that this time was possible. Sighhhhhh.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Sitting down
I just got off the phone with a great friend. After giving her the run-down of the past week's fun and funkiness, she reminded me of the practice of flowing. She spoke of the human need to control things and of the impossibility of doing so all the time. Sometimes, things will emerge out of the changed forms of other things, and we have no way of knowing or even guessing how it will look or be.
Every time I speak with this friend, the conversation leads her to speak some little nugget of wisdom. The last time, as we were talking about being too hard on ourselves most of the time, she said, "I want to treat myself like I treat a lover," and this notion sent me reeling for weeks as I realized how thoughtful, forgiving, and kind I am to my lovers and as I tried to figure out how to be the same way with myself. That last nugget of wisdom just might have changed my whole life. And the nugget she gave me today might be equally as important to my life. It was this:
"Sometimes you just have to sit down without knowing whether there's a chair there behind you."
Phew. The idea is, I think, to trust that the chair is there (who was it who said, "Leap, and the net will appear"?), but I also see that it's not such a big deal if it isn't there. Yeah, you'll fall on the floor and if anyone is nearby, they'll have to quiet their instinct to laugh at you as they offer you a hand to help you get up (and anyone far enough away will not quiet their instinct and will laugh at your fumble). So what?
Last week, Wade and I went to a place called JUMP STREETS, which is basically a huge trampoline room for kids. We were, by far, the oldest people there and we were bouncing around like kangaroos. I was practicing front flips and working up the nerve to try backflips. When I did try them, it was fun, even though I never quite landed them. But Wade would do this silly thing of jumping up really high with a huge goofy grin on his face and then landing as if he were sitting (like landing in a pike, I guess) and then bouncing back up to standing. In essence, he was sitting in a place where there was no chair.
Of all the moves I tried that day (including bouncing off the wall-mounted trampoline, head flips and the aforementioned backflip), the chair-sit move was the hardest to try. Obviously, I knew I was safe, and that I'd have no choice but to land on the trampoline and bounce back up. But there was some mental blockage against sitting down with no chair behind me.
Of course, I eventually tried it. And of course I laughed the whole time. The first time, I think I bounced up and fell forward onto my face (or, at least, I imagine it that way because I like slapstick). The second time I tried it I landed back up on my feet. And then, before long, it was like nothing. This is probably one of the first moves they teach in gymnastics classes (or whatever kind of class it is that takes place on a trampoline), but for me, it was the one that invoked the most fear. I don't even know what I was afraid of; I was just afraid. But, it turned out to be super easy and very fun.
So, as I apply my friend's nugget of wisdom, I'm going to imagine my whole life taking place in a trampoline. It's a place where my skips, trips and falls are met with a bouncy surface that pops me back up again. It's a place where -- with a little bit of common sense, caution, nerve and cardio endurance -- my attempts to practice old moves or try new ones are rewarded with giggles and soft landings. It's a place where I can sit down without knowing if there's a chair behind me and discover what's ready to be discovered.
Every time I speak with this friend, the conversation leads her to speak some little nugget of wisdom. The last time, as we were talking about being too hard on ourselves most of the time, she said, "I want to treat myself like I treat a lover," and this notion sent me reeling for weeks as I realized how thoughtful, forgiving, and kind I am to my lovers and as I tried to figure out how to be the same way with myself. That last nugget of wisdom just might have changed my whole life. And the nugget she gave me today might be equally as important to my life. It was this:
"Sometimes you just have to sit down without knowing whether there's a chair there behind you."
Phew. The idea is, I think, to trust that the chair is there (who was it who said, "Leap, and the net will appear"?), but I also see that it's not such a big deal if it isn't there. Yeah, you'll fall on the floor and if anyone is nearby, they'll have to quiet their instinct to laugh at you as they offer you a hand to help you get up (and anyone far enough away will not quiet their instinct and will laugh at your fumble). So what?
Last week, Wade and I went to a place called JUMP STREETS, which is basically a huge trampoline room for kids. We were, by far, the oldest people there and we were bouncing around like kangaroos. I was practicing front flips and working up the nerve to try backflips. When I did try them, it was fun, even though I never quite landed them. But Wade would do this silly thing of jumping up really high with a huge goofy grin on his face and then landing as if he were sitting (like landing in a pike, I guess) and then bouncing back up to standing. In essence, he was sitting in a place where there was no chair.
Of all the moves I tried that day (including bouncing off the wall-mounted trampoline, head flips and the aforementioned backflip), the chair-sit move was the hardest to try. Obviously, I knew I was safe, and that I'd have no choice but to land on the trampoline and bounce back up. But there was some mental blockage against sitting down with no chair behind me.
Of course, I eventually tried it. And of course I laughed the whole time. The first time, I think I bounced up and fell forward onto my face (or, at least, I imagine it that way because I like slapstick). The second time I tried it I landed back up on my feet. And then, before long, it was like nothing. This is probably one of the first moves they teach in gymnastics classes (or whatever kind of class it is that takes place on a trampoline), but for me, it was the one that invoked the most fear. I don't even know what I was afraid of; I was just afraid. But, it turned out to be super easy and very fun.
So, as I apply my friend's nugget of wisdom, I'm going to imagine my whole life taking place in a trampoline. It's a place where my skips, trips and falls are met with a bouncy surface that pops me back up again. It's a place where -- with a little bit of common sense, caution, nerve and cardio endurance -- my attempts to practice old moves or try new ones are rewarded with giggles and soft landings. It's a place where I can sit down without knowing if there's a chair behind me and discover what's ready to be discovered.
The Elephant in the Room
So, life in Denver has been sooo good that I'm not quite ready to come back yet. But, nonetheless, original plans move forward and I'll be back in just over a week. We've been keeping busy, though its tough to remember all of what we've been up to. Lots of bike rides, trips to the farmer's market, yummy at-home meals, lots of laughing and other fun.
Though I've been keeping busy with my own work, when I get back to Brooklyn, things will pick up speed and the vacation-style of working won't cut it anymore. So it's pretty easy to see why I'm hesitant to come home. But then things from home started creeping in on me....reminding me that I am, in fact, going back soon and that things are going to be quite a bit different when I do.
I had already known that a large number of my closest friends in BK are planning to move away between now and October. And I was preparing for the void that will be left when they go. Then yesterday, I learned of two more families really important to me who are planning to move away; one family is leaving as soon as September, the other within the next year or two. The void just got so much bigger.
But for some reason, I'm not freaking out about it. I am sad, of course, and will miss all of the people I love, but I am also curious about what can happen in the midst of this much change happening all at once. I'm not only excited for me, but for all of my friends who are heading off to new adventures. Normally, I am terrified of things changing. But the past year has taught me that sometimes things have to fall completely apart in order for anything at all to come together. In my life's history, I've always been the one leaving or moving, never the one left behind. So now that the tables are turned, what else is there to do but to pull my chair in closer and see what's good on this side?
Though I've been keeping busy with my own work, when I get back to Brooklyn, things will pick up speed and the vacation-style of working won't cut it anymore. So it's pretty easy to see why I'm hesitant to come home. But then things from home started creeping in on me....reminding me that I am, in fact, going back soon and that things are going to be quite a bit different when I do.
I had already known that a large number of my closest friends in BK are planning to move away between now and October. And I was preparing for the void that will be left when they go. Then yesterday, I learned of two more families really important to me who are planning to move away; one family is leaving as soon as September, the other within the next year or two. The void just got so much bigger.
But for some reason, I'm not freaking out about it. I am sad, of course, and will miss all of the people I love, but I am also curious about what can happen in the midst of this much change happening all at once. I'm not only excited for me, but for all of my friends who are heading off to new adventures. Normally, I am terrified of things changing. But the past year has taught me that sometimes things have to fall completely apart in order for anything at all to come together. In my life's history, I've always been the one leaving or moving, never the one left behind. So now that the tables are turned, what else is there to do but to pull my chair in closer and see what's good on this side?
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Noosa Alert!
So, things have picked up speed here in Denver and I haven't made much time to update here. We've been staying busy enjoying all of the free and low cost experiences that Denver has to offer. Last weekend we went to the First Fridays art walk and First Saturday at the Denver Art Museum. On Sunday we took a super long bike ride from park to park to pool to park again, with a frisbee/cartwheel break in between.
This weekend we took a short hike up to Bridal Veil Falls, a thin but fast-moving 20 foot tall waterfall that runs between two slick rock faces. The whole hike was beautiful; within each mile, the terrain switches, going from meadow-y open spaces to forest glen to river-side meandering to a craggy uphill path to a boulder hopping finish. On the way back, we watched a storm roll in behind us and were cooled by its drizzles.
The drive to this trailhead passes by The Stanley Hotel, which is where The Shining was filmed. Next weekend, we're going to watch the movie and then visit the hotel ----- spoooooky times!!!
The other discovery of epic proportions is our discovery of the most delicious yogurt ever made in the history of the universe. It's called Noosa, is Australian style and made fresh here in Colorado. We picked up a huge batch from the farmer's market this weekend. It tastes like creme-fraiche and whipped cream swirled together and when topped with mango, cherries, and strawberries, it is the yummiest summer dessert I've ever had. Long live the Noosa!! All hail the Noosa!!!
This weekend we took a short hike up to Bridal Veil Falls, a thin but fast-moving 20 foot tall waterfall that runs between two slick rock faces. The whole hike was beautiful; within each mile, the terrain switches, going from meadow-y open spaces to forest glen to river-side meandering to a craggy uphill path to a boulder hopping finish. On the way back, we watched a storm roll in behind us and were cooled by its drizzles.
The drive to this trailhead passes by The Stanley Hotel, which is where The Shining was filmed. Next weekend, we're going to watch the movie and then visit the hotel ----- spoooooky times!!!
The other discovery of epic proportions is our discovery of the most delicious yogurt ever made in the history of the universe. It's called Noosa, is Australian style and made fresh here in Colorado. We picked up a huge batch from the farmer's market this weekend. It tastes like creme-fraiche and whipped cream swirled together and when topped with mango, cherries, and strawberries, it is the yummiest summer dessert I've ever had. Long live the Noosa!! All hail the Noosa!!!
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Black lipstick for coffee
I'm sitting here at Pennsylvania Perk (because it's on Pennsylvania Ave, not because it's in Pennsylvania) and some guy just walked in wearing an oxford shirt, tie, black jacket, floor-reaching black satin skirt and black lipstick. Why write about it? Well, because that's about the most interesting thing that's happened in the past week.
Life here in Denver is very much like life would be in Brooklyn right about now, but with less capoeira and nephew time. Oh, and of course, less sweat. My best buddy works from about 8am to 8pm, so I'm on my own most of the time and I'm filling the hours with some online work (prepping for next semester), taking an online class (for TESOL certification), walking in the park, biking around town, and cooking whatever is on sale at Whole Foods (last night: chicken thighs and mustard greens).
I've taken a few classes with the two capoeira groups here. The folks from Capoeira Luanda are really great - strong capoeiristas and very nice people. Their batizado is next week, so I'm looking forward the workshops and dance classes they're going to offer. I took a maculele workshop with the other group, Canto do Galo, the first weekend I was here during their batizado. The class was really great -- it was taught more like an african dance class (moving across the floor) and was full of high energy. They do maculele differently than I do -- hitting just on the 4th beat instead of the 3rd and 4th, so it was interesting to adjust. But other than the maculele, I wasn't that into Canto do Galo's training/playing style. I took a class with Mestre Acordeon, which was a good experience, but I couldn't help thinking that Foca is better teacher by far, and even that all of our visiting teachers who give classes during batizado week (I'm thinking of Ralil, Bahia, Papiba, Nagi, Bikudo) are better at the actual teaching part than Acordeon was on this day. I'm not intending to talk shit about Mestre Acordeon; it's just that every time I've trained with anyone outside of Raizes, I notice again how amazing my teachers are and how lucky I am to have found them. And these teachers from other groups are realy great, so it is an even higher compliment to my group that they're the cream of such a good crop. During roda time, when Acordeon was singing, I really felt privileged to be there -- the man's voice is so beautiful. Anyway, I'm going to Luanda classes two or three times a week and am really glad that Profesor Gaviao and all of his students have welcomed me as they have.
We're working on plans for the holiday weekend. We were going to go tubing down Boulder Creek or the Cache la Poudre river, but water levels are too high, so the waterways are closed for tubing :(
So, the back-up plan will include some biking & picnicking. Not bad for a back-up plan.
Life here in Denver is very much like life would be in Brooklyn right about now, but with less capoeira and nephew time. Oh, and of course, less sweat. My best buddy works from about 8am to 8pm, so I'm on my own most of the time and I'm filling the hours with some online work (prepping for next semester), taking an online class (for TESOL certification), walking in the park, biking around town, and cooking whatever is on sale at Whole Foods (last night: chicken thighs and mustard greens).
I've taken a few classes with the two capoeira groups here. The folks from Capoeira Luanda are really great - strong capoeiristas and very nice people. Their batizado is next week, so I'm looking forward the workshops and dance classes they're going to offer. I took a maculele workshop with the other group, Canto do Galo, the first weekend I was here during their batizado. The class was really great -- it was taught more like an african dance class (moving across the floor) and was full of high energy. They do maculele differently than I do -- hitting just on the 4th beat instead of the 3rd and 4th, so it was interesting to adjust. But other than the maculele, I wasn't that into Canto do Galo's training/playing style. I took a class with Mestre Acordeon, which was a good experience, but I couldn't help thinking that Foca is better teacher by far, and even that all of our visiting teachers who give classes during batizado week (I'm thinking of Ralil, Bahia, Papiba, Nagi, Bikudo) are better at the actual teaching part than Acordeon was on this day. I'm not intending to talk shit about Mestre Acordeon; it's just that every time I've trained with anyone outside of Raizes, I notice again how amazing my teachers are and how lucky I am to have found them. And these teachers from other groups are realy great, so it is an even higher compliment to my group that they're the cream of such a good crop. During roda time, when Acordeon was singing, I really felt privileged to be there -- the man's voice is so beautiful. Anyway, I'm going to Luanda classes two or three times a week and am really glad that Profesor Gaviao and all of his students have welcomed me as they have.
We're working on plans for the holiday weekend. We were going to go tubing down Boulder Creek or the Cache la Poudre river, but water levels are too high, so the waterways are closed for tubing :(
So, the back-up plan will include some biking & picnicking. Not bad for a back-up plan.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Yummy Pike Wilderness
I have such mixed feelings about camping. On the one hand, I totally love it: the freedom to do nothing but stare into a fire for hours, the fresh air, the fluttering of bird wings, the hum of the river passing by my campsite. On the other hand, I sometimes feel like I've outgrown it: the days of dirt lodged in every crevice of my hand/fingernails/toes, temperatures dropping so low that I don't want to leave my relatively warm sleeping bag/tent to find a spot to pee at 6am, boredom, and too many sausages and s'mores consumed in too short of a time period.
Last week, we went to the Pike National Forest to do some camping on Mount Evans. Not the hike-in-with-all-your-stuff-in-your-backpack type of camping, but the buy-firewood-at-the-grocery-store-and-park-your-car-and-unload-into-a-campsite-with-a-handy-fire-pit-already-there type of camping. It was, overall, splendid, and even the massive amounts of dirt on my hands, arms, legs, jeans and socks didn't really bother me until the last day. We found a lovely day hike trail called Abyss, which sounds like it could be rough, but was actually a smooth, meandering stroll through stands of aspen and pine, through meadows of dandelions, log hopping over rapid creeks, with views sometimes of whole vast valleys and mountain peaks.
It's a good thing it was an easy hike, because I was feeling a bit nauseous from eating too much sausage that morning, which is a condition hereby known as feeling sauseous (which is to be nauseous from sausage, in case you didn't figure that out already). I left the mountain with clearer lungs from the fresh crisp mountain air and with a hilariously shaped hiker's sunburn that made its way around my tank top straps, into the part in my hair and all the way down to a spot on my low back that was exposed while walking with the backpack on.
I think I've decided that I don't really like hiking so much. If we're hiking to a place (i.e., a lake to swim in, a waterfall to climb under, etc.), then I don't mind, but the "hike for the sake of hiking" experience just doesn't speak to me. And even though I've learned this lesson before (ten years ago, on the first day of a 5 day journey along the southern part of the Appalachian Trail), I seem to forget it and wind up agreeing to go on hikes with people who genuinely like them. Hiking, like running without music or riding a bike with no destination, is just so boring, but that might have more to do with my own dislike of being too quiet to hear all the thoughts running through my head and may have nothing at all to do with the actual act of walking in a forward motion on a dirt path. I know that people really like to be all up in nature, observing its glory, but I find this is difficult to do while walking on a surface that alternates from being smooth dirt to craggy rocks, to full of earth-poppin' tree roots, to slippery mud slicks and back to non-threatening clear dirt pathways. In other words, I spend most of my time looking down to avoid stepping on something that will twist my ankle instead of basking in the glory of the wild (to be fair, I do this in the city too, and as a result haven't stepped in dog poop fr as long as I can remember).
But overall the trip was lovely, the wilderness was amazing, and the campfires were spectacular..
We returned to Denver with just enough time to shower (twice) and get ready to enjoy the Gay Pride events of the weekend. And as the Flintstones theme song promises, we did have a gay ole time.
Last week, we went to the Pike National Forest to do some camping on Mount Evans. Not the hike-in-with-all-your-stuff-in-your-backpack type of camping, but the buy-firewood-at-the-grocery-store-and-park-your-car-and-unload-into-a-campsite-with-a-handy-fire-pit-already-there type of camping. It was, overall, splendid, and even the massive amounts of dirt on my hands, arms, legs, jeans and socks didn't really bother me until the last day. We found a lovely day hike trail called Abyss, which sounds like it could be rough, but was actually a smooth, meandering stroll through stands of aspen and pine, through meadows of dandelions, log hopping over rapid creeks, with views sometimes of whole vast valleys and mountain peaks.
It's a good thing it was an easy hike, because I was feeling a bit nauseous from eating too much sausage that morning, which is a condition hereby known as feeling sauseous (which is to be nauseous from sausage, in case you didn't figure that out already). I left the mountain with clearer lungs from the fresh crisp mountain air and with a hilariously shaped hiker's sunburn that made its way around my tank top straps, into the part in my hair and all the way down to a spot on my low back that was exposed while walking with the backpack on.
I think I've decided that I don't really like hiking so much. If we're hiking to a place (i.e., a lake to swim in, a waterfall to climb under, etc.), then I don't mind, but the "hike for the sake of hiking" experience just doesn't speak to me. And even though I've learned this lesson before (ten years ago, on the first day of a 5 day journey along the southern part of the Appalachian Trail), I seem to forget it and wind up agreeing to go on hikes with people who genuinely like them. Hiking, like running without music or riding a bike with no destination, is just so boring, but that might have more to do with my own dislike of being too quiet to hear all the thoughts running through my head and may have nothing at all to do with the actual act of walking in a forward motion on a dirt path. I know that people really like to be all up in nature, observing its glory, but I find this is difficult to do while walking on a surface that alternates from being smooth dirt to craggy rocks, to full of earth-poppin' tree roots, to slippery mud slicks and back to non-threatening clear dirt pathways. In other words, I spend most of my time looking down to avoid stepping on something that will twist my ankle instead of basking in the glory of the wild (to be fair, I do this in the city too, and as a result haven't stepped in dog poop fr as long as I can remember).
But overall the trip was lovely, the wilderness was amazing, and the campfires were spectacular..
We returned to Denver with just enough time to shower (twice) and get ready to enjoy the Gay Pride events of the weekend. And as the Flintstones theme song promises, we did have a gay ole time.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Altitude adjustment
I lived 45 minutes north of here in Fort Collins for two years while going to graduate school at CSU, and I never really thought it through before, but I guess Fort Collins is much lower than Denver because I don't recall having any altitude adjustment issues when I moved there. But here in the Mile High City, oh my lord, I can hardly breathe. If I'm walking and want to take a deep breath, I have to stop walking and really concentrate, and I'm not always successful in my attempt to get a full one. If I forget to stop and take deep breaths every block or so, I start to feel as though I visited one of the previously mentioned dispensaries -- a little head rush and a little fuzzy brain syndrome kicks in. It's been tough to keep up with my workouts because it's pretty hard to workout when you can't breathe. So, I'm just sticking to hours-long walks, deep motionless breaths and 5 minute bursts of strength training with my resistance band. I thought it would take just a few days to adjust, but someone told me it will really take a couple of weeks. We have some hikes planned for the end of next week, so I'm working on mind over matter and plan to adjust by then.
On Wednesday, one of my walks led me to one of the capoeira schools here, Capoeira Canto do Galo. Their batizado is this weekend, so they have all kinds of special guests in town, including Mestre Acordeon. I watched a kid's class in which the kids worked on Mestre Bimba's sequencias and was amazed that the kid's class was taught just like an adult's class. No games, no animal movements, just line facing front doing the movements. I prefer the style of interacting with kids that I've learned from Mestre Foca and Instrutora Rouxinol, which is more fun for student and teacher, but was also impressed with the strict approach taken here, Mestre Galo invited me to participate in their workshops taking place today, as well as a dance class and open roda. So, as long as I can breathe, I'm going to go check it out, if only for the opportunity to train in the vicinity of a legend like Acordeon. I'm also starving for the sound of spoken Portuguese, so I'm looking forward to this afternoon.
I hope all of my New York friends are beating the heat. As for me, I had to get up to close the windows last night because it was too cool! Ahhhhhhh.
Denver observations, part one
Denver is only a 30 minute drive away from Boulder, which is often ranked as the healthiest/happiest city in the U.S. It seems that a lot can change in just 30 minutes. Most people seem pretty happy here, but healthy? Err, not so much by my standards.
I've been spending my days walking a lot as I get acclimated to the altitude (more on that later), and I've noticed one majorly disturbing thing about the people I pass by -- about 1 out of every 3 is smoking! Gross. People walking are smoking, people riding their bikes are smoking, people taking a break from a pick-up game of hoops are smoking, even people driving by me in their cars are smoking so much that I can smell it as they pass. Super gross. With all this crisp mountain air to suck up, why would anyone want to replace that fresh goodness with nasty cigarette smoke? Blech. Thankfully, smoking is banned in restaurants and other indoor public spaces, but seriously, Denver people, get it together and quit that disgusting habit already. It's hard enough to breathe up here without that smoke drifting from every direction.
On a more entertaining note is that fact that marijuana is decriminalized here, so there is an official dispensary within spitting distance of wherever I am. At least it smells better than cigarette smoke, but I'm amazed at the amount of stoned out people sitting on their porches at 10am; come on people, don't you have to go to work? The prices and strains of ounces are advertised in the local papers, in the back along with escort services and music show listings. It is surreal.
I've been spending my days walking a lot as I get acclimated to the altitude (more on that later), and I've noticed one majorly disturbing thing about the people I pass by -- about 1 out of every 3 is smoking! Gross. People walking are smoking, people riding their bikes are smoking, people taking a break from a pick-up game of hoops are smoking, even people driving by me in their cars are smoking so much that I can smell it as they pass. Super gross. With all this crisp mountain air to suck up, why would anyone want to replace that fresh goodness with nasty cigarette smoke? Blech. Thankfully, smoking is banned in restaurants and other indoor public spaces, but seriously, Denver people, get it together and quit that disgusting habit already. It's hard enough to breathe up here without that smoke drifting from every direction.
On a more entertaining note is that fact that marijuana is decriminalized here, so there is an official dispensary within spitting distance of wherever I am. At least it smells better than cigarette smoke, but I'm amazed at the amount of stoned out people sitting on their porches at 10am; come on people, don't you have to go to work? The prices and strains of ounces are advertised in the local papers, in the back along with escort services and music show listings. It is surreal.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
This summer: Denver
Though nothing can compare to last summer's adventures in Brazil, this time I've packed up the ole luggage to head out to Denver for two months. I'm staying with my very best friend, Wade, and will be keeping busy with all of the outdoors-y stuff here. Strangely enough, the weather here is exactly the same as it was in Brasilia last summer, which is great because I packed pretty much the exact same things for my stay, not including the little sweat-soaking rags I have to carry with me everywhere during a Brooklyn summer.
I almost didn't make it here yesterday; I made it onto my flight with nary a second to spare. There was a fire on the AirTrain track on the way to JFK so we were delayed on the track for about 20 minutes, then scuttled onto the slowest and most crowded-est shuttle buses ever (shout out to the sweet 18 yr old skater boy who gave me the seat he was ready to snag). I got to my terminal 20 minutes before the flight was scheduled to take off, with a piece of luggage to check. I ran to check-in, found a JetBlue employee to help me cut in line in front of everyone, agreed to consent to the possibility that my luggage might arrive a day late, ran up to airport security and asked everyone in line if I could cut to the front because I was about to miss my flight - and they all said yes! Then, because I was running so late, I got shuffled through the xray without delay even though my carry-on contained a huge bottle of water, a pocket knife and a box of straight razors (hmmm, one need only visit the airport for ample evidence of white privilege). From there, with a heavy carry-on and big purse, I ran to my gate at full speed and got on just before the door was closing. This was the best part of my day. Why? Because in the past (yes, I've been very late for many flights before), such a sprint carrying extra weight would have left me breathless, but this time, I felt I could have gone on and on. I guess all of those games of Sao Bento Corrido are really paying off in the cardio endurance realm!
I alternated my TV channels between a 3 hour marathon of The Office, Seinfeld, back to back episodes of the National Geographic series on women who work in male prisons, and my favorite episodes of the amazing BBC series Planet Earth (including the wild dog aerial hunting scene, the sea otters who taunt and outsmart the crocodile, and the heartbreaking but captivating coverage of late night lions attacking and killing a slow-moving baby elephant). To top it all off, my flight arrived an hour early and my luggage, which was not guaranteed to make it, was the first one off the baggage carousel. Some gals have all the luck.
When Wade pulled in to pick me up, we hugged for so long that I thought the security guy was going to tell us to move along. But, hey, we had three years of missed hugs to make up for! After a quick dinner at the Applaloosa Grill (which I will always hereby refer to as the Apple Loser Grill because that sounds more fun), we got home and tried very hard not to stay up all night talking.
Today, my mission involves finding Whole Foods, setting up internet at the house, getting acclimated to the altitude with a bike ride in the park, and checking out the Muay Thai school that offers classes during the day. Tomorrow, I'll start the online TEFL certification course I'm completing this summer and will make a big batch of rice and beans. Neither one of us has a camera, but I'll find some way to get some pics posted of me in the summer NOT SWEATING (a sweet miracle only possible in the dry, dry west).
Your mission? Go to as many of New York's free summer outdoor concerts as possible and imagine me standing next to you.
I almost didn't make it here yesterday; I made it onto my flight with nary a second to spare. There was a fire on the AirTrain track on the way to JFK so we were delayed on the track for about 20 minutes, then scuttled onto the slowest and most crowded-est shuttle buses ever (shout out to the sweet 18 yr old skater boy who gave me the seat he was ready to snag). I got to my terminal 20 minutes before the flight was scheduled to take off, with a piece of luggage to check. I ran to check-in, found a JetBlue employee to help me cut in line in front of everyone, agreed to consent to the possibility that my luggage might arrive a day late, ran up to airport security and asked everyone in line if I could cut to the front because I was about to miss my flight - and they all said yes! Then, because I was running so late, I got shuffled through the xray without delay even though my carry-on contained a huge bottle of water, a pocket knife and a box of straight razors (hmmm, one need only visit the airport for ample evidence of white privilege). From there, with a heavy carry-on and big purse, I ran to my gate at full speed and got on just before the door was closing. This was the best part of my day. Why? Because in the past (yes, I've been very late for many flights before), such a sprint carrying extra weight would have left me breathless, but this time, I felt I could have gone on and on. I guess all of those games of Sao Bento Corrido are really paying off in the cardio endurance realm!
I alternated my TV channels between a 3 hour marathon of The Office, Seinfeld, back to back episodes of the National Geographic series on women who work in male prisons, and my favorite episodes of the amazing BBC series Planet Earth (including the wild dog aerial hunting scene, the sea otters who taunt and outsmart the crocodile, and the heartbreaking but captivating coverage of late night lions attacking and killing a slow-moving baby elephant). To top it all off, my flight arrived an hour early and my luggage, which was not guaranteed to make it, was the first one off the baggage carousel. Some gals have all the luck.
When Wade pulled in to pick me up, we hugged for so long that I thought the security guy was going to tell us to move along. But, hey, we had three years of missed hugs to make up for! After a quick dinner at the Applaloosa Grill (which I will always hereby refer to as the Apple Loser Grill because that sounds more fun), we got home and tried very hard not to stay up all night talking.
Today, my mission involves finding Whole Foods, setting up internet at the house, getting acclimated to the altitude with a bike ride in the park, and checking out the Muay Thai school that offers classes during the day. Tomorrow, I'll start the online TEFL certification course I'm completing this summer and will make a big batch of rice and beans. Neither one of us has a camera, but I'll find some way to get some pics posted of me in the summer NOT SWEATING (a sweet miracle only possible in the dry, dry west).
Your mission? Go to as many of New York's free summer outdoor concerts as possible and imagine me standing next to you.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Keys
I've been back in New York for just over a week. It feels weird. I know I love living here; I know that this is where I want to live for the rest of my life. It's just that, at the moment, I'm having a bit of trouble remembering WHY.
A good friend is encouraging me to enjoy every minute of this strange feeling of feeling not at home at home. And I like that idea, so that's what I'm planning to do.
I have lots of friends who do lots of long-term traveling, with some of them living abroad for years on end, so what I'm experiencing now is probably old news to them. But this summer was the first time I was out of the U.S. for more than a month, and that second month really did a number on my ability to come back without noticing a strange thing or two about my life here. I'm trying to figure out how to explain it, so until I'm fully adjusted, I'm going to try to figure it out here.
When I got back last week, my mom and nephew met me at my apartment to hand over my keys. I was fresh from 25 hours of traveling with just about three hours of sleep thrown in despite two sleeping "aids," so I was not on point. My mom handed me my keys, a jangling bundle of no less than 13 keys and I thought, and then said, "There must be some mistake, all of these keys can't possibly be mine." But they were mine alright, and I have spent many years carrying all of these keys with me every day. For the past two months, I wore a single key on a piece of berimbau cord around my neck, which is apparently enough time to become accustomed to only wearing a single key on a cord around one's neck. But then there I was, back at my home, which still didn't feel quite like my home yet, with a bundle of keys (to my apartment, my mom's apartment, my sister's apartment, my friend's office, my mailbox, my bike lock....) that also didn't feel like mine.
My first day back, I carried those key around as I ran errands around Brooklyn. I'll state the obvious by saying that they represent my life here -- and that I wasn't quite ready to carry that life around, all jingling and silver in my handbag. My second day back, I separated the keys into smaller bundles and now leave what I don't need for the day at home. Seems simple enough, and it was simple enough. With fewer keys, my return to the speed of daily life here slowed down a bit -- just enough for me to handle it.
Don't get me wrong -- I'm glad to be back. But it is weird.
A good friend is encouraging me to enjoy every minute of this strange feeling of feeling not at home at home. And I like that idea, so that's what I'm planning to do.
I have lots of friends who do lots of long-term traveling, with some of them living abroad for years on end, so what I'm experiencing now is probably old news to them. But this summer was the first time I was out of the U.S. for more than a month, and that second month really did a number on my ability to come back without noticing a strange thing or two about my life here. I'm trying to figure out how to explain it, so until I'm fully adjusted, I'm going to try to figure it out here.
When I got back last week, my mom and nephew met me at my apartment to hand over my keys. I was fresh from 25 hours of traveling with just about three hours of sleep thrown in despite two sleeping "aids," so I was not on point. My mom handed me my keys, a jangling bundle of no less than 13 keys and I thought, and then said, "There must be some mistake, all of these keys can't possibly be mine." But they were mine alright, and I have spent many years carrying all of these keys with me every day. For the past two months, I wore a single key on a piece of berimbau cord around my neck, which is apparently enough time to become accustomed to only wearing a single key on a cord around one's neck. But then there I was, back at my home, which still didn't feel quite like my home yet, with a bundle of keys (to my apartment, my mom's apartment, my sister's apartment, my friend's office, my mailbox, my bike lock....) that also didn't feel like mine.
My first day back, I carried those key around as I ran errands around Brooklyn. I'll state the obvious by saying that they represent my life here -- and that I wasn't quite ready to carry that life around, all jingling and silver in my handbag. My second day back, I separated the keys into smaller bundles and now leave what I don't need for the day at home. Seems simple enough, and it was simple enough. With fewer keys, my return to the speed of daily life here slowed down a bit -- just enough for me to handle it.
Don't get me wrong -- I'm glad to be back. But it is weird.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Winding down
I'm in my last week of my Brazilian vacation. I'm so glad I extended trip my trip by two weeks -- it would have been too rushed to leave on the 25th as previously planned. So much has happened since I've been here, and I've learned a lot of things about myself, Brazilian culture and life.
Here's a quick list of what comes to mind when I think of all I've learned:
* How to make and fly a kite, Rio de Janeiro style
* How to train macaco in a way that makes sense to my body
* How to actually do a macaco paulista
* How to do mei lua de compasso de raizes
* How to drive a motorcycle (don't worry mom, it was just in a parking lot)
* How to jump any bike over any curb
* How to make firm plans with a Brazilian man by acting as if you aren't actually making a firm plan
* How to call a waiter over to the table in that sort of rude, but typical and normal Brazilian way, by calling out "Oi -- moco" or "Amigao" while waving him over with your hand
* How to listen to and politely decline a way-too-soon marriage proposal from a smitten admirer
* How to wear a teeny bikini with grace and attitude
* How to apply the perfect combination of sunblock and bronzer
* How to play safely, strongly and com muito divertido and respect in a street roda
* How to relax deeply for extended periods of time without feeling guilty
* How to work a little while playing a lot
* How to take capoeira less seriously (which oddly enough results in begin a better capoeirista)
I am ready to come home (I really miss my mom, sister, nephew and bed), but am still sad to leave. Luckily, I've already learned how to maintain strong long distance friendships, so I know that I won't actually be leaving anything or anyone behind here. But for now, there are still a few more days to fill with friends and sunshine -- so off I go!
Here's a quick list of what comes to mind when I think of all I've learned:
* How to make and fly a kite, Rio de Janeiro style
* How to train macaco in a way that makes sense to my body
* How to actually do a macaco paulista
* How to do mei lua de compasso de raizes
* How to drive a motorcycle (don't worry mom, it was just in a parking lot)
* How to jump any bike over any curb
* How to make firm plans with a Brazilian man by acting as if you aren't actually making a firm plan
* How to call a waiter over to the table in that sort of rude, but typical and normal Brazilian way, by calling out "Oi -- moco" or "Amigao" while waving him over with your hand
* How to listen to and politely decline a way-too-soon marriage proposal from a smitten admirer
* How to wear a teeny bikini with grace and attitude
* How to apply the perfect combination of sunblock and bronzer
* How to play safely, strongly and com muito divertido and respect in a street roda
* How to relax deeply for extended periods of time without feeling guilty
* How to work a little while playing a lot
* How to take capoeira less seriously (which oddly enough results in begin a better capoeirista)
I am ready to come home (I really miss my mom, sister, nephew and bed), but am still sad to leave. Luckily, I've already learned how to maintain strong long distance friendships, so I know that I won't actually be leaving anything or anyone behind here. But for now, there are still a few more days to fill with friends and sunshine -- so off I go!
Saturday, August 28, 2010
NOT back in New York
So, if anyone remembers when I said I'd be back, you'd be expecting to see me somewhere in New York right now. I was supposed to arrive on Thursday and would probably be finishing capoeira class in the park right about now. But instead, I'm still in Brazil!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I am lucky enough to teach a few online classes as well as in-person classes. And I am lucky enough that the online classes started last week, but the in-person classes don't start until mid-September. So, a few weeks ago, I decided to change my return flight to stay here longer -- two weeks longer to be exact. I'll return to NY on September 9th.
In the meantime, I am back to my normal Brasilia routine. Capoeira classes all over the city, street rodas every other Saturday, visiting with old friends and making new ones, enjoying good music, eating good healthy food, working on my online classes in the morning, going to the park or agua mineral or a waterfall in the afternoon, and -- most of all -- laughing A LOT. There is something very light about the energy in Nagi's house, and whether I'm passing the day with him or his roomie Dudu or his brother Jad, we are always laughing.
Yesterday we went took a trip to a waterfall called Poco Azul.
There are actually a series of waterfalls here and we didn't get to see them all. But we did enjoy two of them. The first was beautiful: a fall cascading about 15 feet with a bunch of areas to jump into the deep pool below (I didn't jump because I'm wimpy like that, but I enjoyed watching everyone else).
We passed most of the day there. Then we took a hike to the fall below. As we approached, I had to literally stop in my tracks because I was completely overwhelmed by the beauty and energy of the place. I couldn't move for a few minutes and, when I did, I teared up. I have never seen a place so amazing. The falls were powerful -- cascading from about 100 feet above, crashing onto a small rock shelf before cascaing again into a very shallow pool. I stood under the falls to enjoy a lovely massage and then turned to face the rock. I placed my hands on the rockface while the falls fell on my head and couldn't move for quite a while, thinking of the power of water and gravity. I don't have a regular prayer practice beyond taking moments every day to express thanks for everything I have and am capable of doing in my life, but I was praying there -- most definitely. As I write this, I have been trying to pull up words to describe what I was feeling there, but I don't think I can. "Humbled" is one I can really connect with. "Grateful" is another.
After a long time under the falls, I came out and swam in the other, deeper pool below a smaller fall to the side. Saw some beer cans perched on a rock nearby, so I climbed up to get them and take them with us along with some other trash we found. Soon it was almost sunset, so we climbed back up and headed home.
I was awestruck by the whole place.
That night, I went to Dudu's capoeira class where we trained a very beautiful combination. The roda was lively and I played as much as I could in between watching his students play beautiful, powerful games. Afterwards, Cachino and I traded movements. It always amazes me that even though I am still (for now!) unable to complete my kip de cabeca, I am able to teach others how to do it. So, after a few tries, she was landing it almost perfectly. And I was still landing on my butt, though not as much as usual. I don't care, I still do it in the roda anyway. And one day, I'm gonna get it......then I'll never stop! We also practiced a very fun move that Dudu pulled on me during our first game together - a super playful pass under a kick that everyone will see when I get back to Brooklyn.
That's about it. There's another street roda tonight -- gotta stretch!!
I am lucky enough to teach a few online classes as well as in-person classes. And I am lucky enough that the online classes started last week, but the in-person classes don't start until mid-September. So, a few weeks ago, I decided to change my return flight to stay here longer -- two weeks longer to be exact. I'll return to NY on September 9th.
In the meantime, I am back to my normal Brasilia routine. Capoeira classes all over the city, street rodas every other Saturday, visiting with old friends and making new ones, enjoying good music, eating good healthy food, working on my online classes in the morning, going to the park or agua mineral or a waterfall in the afternoon, and -- most of all -- laughing A LOT. There is something very light about the energy in Nagi's house, and whether I'm passing the day with him or his roomie Dudu or his brother Jad, we are always laughing.
Yesterday we went took a trip to a waterfall called Poco Azul.
There are actually a series of waterfalls here and we didn't get to see them all. But we did enjoy two of them. The first was beautiful: a fall cascading about 15 feet with a bunch of areas to jump into the deep pool below (I didn't jump because I'm wimpy like that, but I enjoyed watching everyone else).
We passed most of the day there. Then we took a hike to the fall below. As we approached, I had to literally stop in my tracks because I was completely overwhelmed by the beauty and energy of the place. I couldn't move for a few minutes and, when I did, I teared up. I have never seen a place so amazing. The falls were powerful -- cascading from about 100 feet above, crashing onto a small rock shelf before cascaing again into a very shallow pool. I stood under the falls to enjoy a lovely massage and then turned to face the rock. I placed my hands on the rockface while the falls fell on my head and couldn't move for quite a while, thinking of the power of water and gravity. I don't have a regular prayer practice beyond taking moments every day to express thanks for everything I have and am capable of doing in my life, but I was praying there -- most definitely. As I write this, I have been trying to pull up words to describe what I was feeling there, but I don't think I can. "Humbled" is one I can really connect with. "Grateful" is another.
After a long time under the falls, I came out and swam in the other, deeper pool below a smaller fall to the side. Saw some beer cans perched on a rock nearby, so I climbed up to get them and take them with us along with some other trash we found. Soon it was almost sunset, so we climbed back up and headed home.
I was awestruck by the whole place.
That night, I went to Dudu's capoeira class where we trained a very beautiful combination. The roda was lively and I played as much as I could in between watching his students play beautiful, powerful games. Afterwards, Cachino and I traded movements. It always amazes me that even though I am still (for now!) unable to complete my kip de cabeca, I am able to teach others how to do it. So, after a few tries, she was landing it almost perfectly. And I was still landing on my butt, though not as much as usual. I don't care, I still do it in the roda anyway. And one day, I'm gonna get it......then I'll never stop! We also practiced a very fun move that Dudu pulled on me during our first game together - a super playful pass under a kick that everyone will see when I get back to Brooklyn.
That's about it. There's another street roda tonight -- gotta stretch!!
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Back in Brasilia
I finally ended the solo part of my trip. I felt a mixture of happiness and sadness for it all to end. It was so interesting to be somewhat alone for a little more than two weeks. Although, after about five days, I made a good friend and was hardly alone at all, except for during the days when my friend was working and I was walking the endless beach. So, I felt a bit sad for that aspect to end. So much of what I experienced in Bahia was like a dream or a movie -- so much was so wonderful. In fact, everything was wonderful, and it is wonderful to have two weeks jam packed full of wonderful things.
But returning to Brasilia means returning to other wonderful things and people and places, too. Before I left New York for this trip, I said to a friend that it is so great to be leaving for a vacation and to not hate the place I am leaving, which means that when it is over, I won't be upset about having to come back to "real life" -- I love my real life. And I felt the same about reutrning to Brasilia....I enjoy every moment here, so I wasn't that upset about ending the solo beach adventure and re-joining Nagi and the gang here for more inland adventures.
I spent one day in Salvador, just a few hours less than 24, because my flight was booked to leave from there. I will definitely return to explore that city next year. I didn't get to do much there because my ferry arrived at sunset so I went directly to my pousada, had dinner and stayed in. The next morning I didn't have much time before my flight and it was overcast and a bit cold for the beach, so I went shopping for a dress for Jad's wedding. No luck on the dress, but I hit a goldmine of tank tops and brazilian underwear. Oh, and another bikini. My bus ride to the airport went along the coast, so I got to see the amazing ocean smashing the shoreline. Que bonita!!!
So, I am back in Brasilia and recovering from Jad's wedding, which was last night. It was a blast. A wedding in Brazil is very much the same as a wedding in the U.S., but the music is all in Portuguese and rice is served with dinner. One difference is that there is a tradition here to have a necktie from the groom and a couple of the groomsmen circulate around the room with the tie and a pair of scissors. You get to cut a piece of the tie and keep it if you give money that will go to the lua de mel (honeymoon). I had spent the day of the wedding and the day before with Jad helping him run errands and really got to see how happy and excited he was to get married. I'm not a big fan of weddings, and I defintely don't have big romantic notions for my own wedding, so I'm usually a bit jaded when it somes to these ceremonies (with the exception of my sister's wedding - I was thrilled for that one). But it was so lovely to see him so happy and ready. Parabens, Jad!!!
Today I will go to Max (aka Bahia) and Patricia's house to hang out with them and their pool. (My tan from my beach trip is stellar and I must maintain!!) I can't wait. They are both such wonderful people and I'm really looking forward to hanging out with them and their family.
This week is full of good plans -- aqua mineral, flying kites in the park, early morning personal training sessions with Nagi, and lots of capoeira.
But returning to Brasilia means returning to other wonderful things and people and places, too. Before I left New York for this trip, I said to a friend that it is so great to be leaving for a vacation and to not hate the place I am leaving, which means that when it is over, I won't be upset about having to come back to "real life" -- I love my real life. And I felt the same about reutrning to Brasilia....I enjoy every moment here, so I wasn't that upset about ending the solo beach adventure and re-joining Nagi and the gang here for more inland adventures.
I spent one day in Salvador, just a few hours less than 24, because my flight was booked to leave from there. I will definitely return to explore that city next year. I didn't get to do much there because my ferry arrived at sunset so I went directly to my pousada, had dinner and stayed in. The next morning I didn't have much time before my flight and it was overcast and a bit cold for the beach, so I went shopping for a dress for Jad's wedding. No luck on the dress, but I hit a goldmine of tank tops and brazilian underwear. Oh, and another bikini. My bus ride to the airport went along the coast, so I got to see the amazing ocean smashing the shoreline. Que bonita!!!
So, I am back in Brasilia and recovering from Jad's wedding, which was last night. It was a blast. A wedding in Brazil is very much the same as a wedding in the U.S., but the music is all in Portuguese and rice is served with dinner. One difference is that there is a tradition here to have a necktie from the groom and a couple of the groomsmen circulate around the room with the tie and a pair of scissors. You get to cut a piece of the tie and keep it if you give money that will go to the lua de mel (honeymoon). I had spent the day of the wedding and the day before with Jad helping him run errands and really got to see how happy and excited he was to get married. I'm not a big fan of weddings, and I defintely don't have big romantic notions for my own wedding, so I'm usually a bit jaded when it somes to these ceremonies (with the exception of my sister's wedding - I was thrilled for that one). But it was so lovely to see him so happy and ready. Parabens, Jad!!!
Today I will go to Max (aka Bahia) and Patricia's house to hang out with them and their pool. (My tan from my beach trip is stellar and I must maintain!!) I can't wait. They are both such wonderful people and I'm really looking forward to hanging out with them and their family.
This week is full of good plans -- aqua mineral, flying kites in the park, early morning personal training sessions with Nagi, and lots of capoeira.
Envy is a Shit
I was shopping in Salvador and saw this printed on a black tank top in white letters: ENVY IS A SHIT. I'm not exactly sure what it is supposed to mean, but I think it's really funny.
But I didn't buy the tank top, though now I think I should have.
But I didn't buy the tank top, though now I think I should have.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Morro, oh no no no
I thought it was important to provide an update. And to pose a question. First the question: What in the hell does everyone like about Morro de Sao Paulo? Is it the overcrowded beaches full of obnoxious tourists from all the world over? Is it is smell of sewage wafting by with every gust of wind? Is it the mediocre view from the beach? Is it the leering men who live there and seem to act entitled to sleep with every moderately attractive female tourist that walks by? Is it the annoying guys at the dock who follow you, insisting that they'lll carry your bag for just 6 reals even though you only have a backpack and have explained three times that you don't need any help? Is it the overpriced and not-so-great-tasting meals being hawked at every restaurant? Seriously -- what is it?
I arrived there Friday afternoon with the intention of staying for five days and to finish off this solo part of my trip enjoying the wonders of Morro as described to me by practically everyeon who has ever been there. Five minutes after I arrived, I knew I wanted to leave as soon as possible. Granted, I was coming from paradise. I had stayed in that paradise for five days longer than I had planned because I fell in love with it. I developed an intense friendhsip with someone who I didn't want to leave. And I made a bunch of other friends in the capoeira group there without ever even training once. So, the bar was set pretty high for any other place I'd visit on this trip. But based on what everyone had told me about Morro, I was sure I'd like it. I think some places are best enjoyed alone and with little money (like my paradise) and other places are best enjoyed with a group friends and ample pocket change (Like Morro).
So, I decided I had two options: 1. Go on to Salvador 2. Return to my paradise
Option 1. Before starting the solo part of my trip in Brazil, every person I spoke with about Salvador warned me about safety issues. "Always keep an eye on your purse whe you are in a restaurant," "Don't go to the beach with anything if you plan to swim...someone will swipe your bag while you're in the water," "Don't trust the men there -- they are safados and will woo you and then try to take your stuff." So, I was already wondering how I'd be relaxed in a place that sounded as or more dangerous than the Bronx in the 80s. I live in a city that requires me to constantly be on alert, paying attention to any possibility of trouble....I didn't want to go on vacation to experience the same level of looming stress. And these warnings were not based on rumor or hearsay: Last year, someone tried the steal the camera out of my friend's hands! This year, a capoeira mestres wallet was stolen off his person! Add to this the fact that Salvador is, after all, a city full of tourists, I decided that if I chose to go to Salvador, the last days of my solo vacation would require more energy and attention to my personal safety than I cared to give.
Option 2. Return to my paradise. Return to deserted, breathtaking beaches. Return to cheap, huge plates of shrimp and fish. Return to the bakery that knows my breakfast order. Return to the beachside Barraca where I get aqua de coco every day and chat with the cutie who runs it. Return to nighttime walks on the beach and people to speak with and forro dancing and relaxation and sun and surf and waves and sand.
Now the update: Can you guess which I chose?
I arrived there Friday afternoon with the intention of staying for five days and to finish off this solo part of my trip enjoying the wonders of Morro as described to me by practically everyeon who has ever been there. Five minutes after I arrived, I knew I wanted to leave as soon as possible. Granted, I was coming from paradise. I had stayed in that paradise for five days longer than I had planned because I fell in love with it. I developed an intense friendhsip with someone who I didn't want to leave. And I made a bunch of other friends in the capoeira group there without ever even training once. So, the bar was set pretty high for any other place I'd visit on this trip. But based on what everyone had told me about Morro, I was sure I'd like it. I think some places are best enjoyed alone and with little money (like my paradise) and other places are best enjoyed with a group friends and ample pocket change (Like Morro).
So, I decided I had two options: 1. Go on to Salvador 2. Return to my paradise
Option 1. Before starting the solo part of my trip in Brazil, every person I spoke with about Salvador warned me about safety issues. "Always keep an eye on your purse whe you are in a restaurant," "Don't go to the beach with anything if you plan to swim...someone will swipe your bag while you're in the water," "Don't trust the men there -- they are safados and will woo you and then try to take your stuff." So, I was already wondering how I'd be relaxed in a place that sounded as or more dangerous than the Bronx in the 80s. I live in a city that requires me to constantly be on alert, paying attention to any possibility of trouble....I didn't want to go on vacation to experience the same level of looming stress. And these warnings were not based on rumor or hearsay: Last year, someone tried the steal the camera out of my friend's hands! This year, a capoeira mestres wallet was stolen off his person! Add to this the fact that Salvador is, after all, a city full of tourists, I decided that if I chose to go to Salvador, the last days of my solo vacation would require more energy and attention to my personal safety than I cared to give.
Option 2. Return to my paradise. Return to deserted, breathtaking beaches. Return to cheap, huge plates of shrimp and fish. Return to the bakery that knows my breakfast order. Return to the beachside Barraca where I get aqua de coco every day and chat with the cutie who runs it. Return to nighttime walks on the beach and people to speak with and forro dancing and relaxation and sun and surf and waves and sand.
Now the update: Can you guess which I chose?
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Paradise found
The mosquitos are abundant. There is nothng to do. The town closes from about 11:30 to about 2:30 for lunch. Yet, this, to me, is paradise. I don't think any of you would like it here, so don't come! I'm keeping my location a secret because I don't want anyone else to know about it. If I could, I'd live here half of the year and live in NY for the other half. (Actually, I could.....)
I'm paying for internet use here and am pinching pennies because I decided to extned my stay here by a week, which cuts into my free housing options in Salvador, so this will be short. But here are the highlights of my daily plans:
1. Wake up early and go to the paneria for cafe damanha (an egg sandwich with cafe com leite)
2. Put on a bikini and sunblock and go to the beach.
3. Walk for hours and hours, jumping in the ocean whenever it gets too hot.
4. Come back to town while the sun is strongest and fill up on a delicious lunch of fish or shrimp, rice, beans and salad.
5. Lay in the hammock at my pousada after lunch and read while waiting for my belly to go back to normal size.
6. Go back to the beach to have aqua de coco and walk in the other direction.
7. Take the cute local capoeirista up on his offer to accompany me on my walk.
8. Watch the sunset, play capoeira on the beach and lay in the sand.
9. Go to the town center while the local capoeira group trains and watch through the open window and sing along with the roda.
10. Eat a small dinner of aracaje or bread and cheese and peach juice.
11. Learn how to dance forro Bahia-style and walk out to the end of the peir to watch the stars coat the sky after dark, then sit on the rocks that line the shore and talk with my new friends.
12. Discover that a mosquito net over a bed works perfectly.
13. Wonder how I'1ll ever leave.
Ahhhhh.
I'm paying for internet use here and am pinching pennies because I decided to extned my stay here by a week, which cuts into my free housing options in Salvador, so this will be short. But here are the highlights of my daily plans:
1. Wake up early and go to the paneria for cafe damanha (an egg sandwich with cafe com leite)
2. Put on a bikini and sunblock and go to the beach.
3. Walk for hours and hours, jumping in the ocean whenever it gets too hot.
4. Come back to town while the sun is strongest and fill up on a delicious lunch of fish or shrimp, rice, beans and salad.
5. Lay in the hammock at my pousada after lunch and read while waiting for my belly to go back to normal size.
6. Go back to the beach to have aqua de coco and walk in the other direction.
7. Take the cute local capoeirista up on his offer to accompany me on my walk.
8. Watch the sunset, play capoeira on the beach and lay in the sand.
9. Go to the town center while the local capoeira group trains and watch through the open window and sing along with the roda.
10. Eat a small dinner of aracaje or bread and cheese and peach juice.
11. Learn how to dance forro Bahia-style and walk out to the end of the peir to watch the stars coat the sky after dark, then sit on the rocks that line the shore and talk with my new friends.
12. Discover that a mosquito net over a bed works perfectly.
13. Wonder how I'1ll ever leave.
Ahhhhh.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
"Well the rain came..."
"...and said, hey buddy, now buddy the street is strange place. I'll be lost, out there walking, nobody stopping to bother me..."
This Jane's Addiction song was in my head all day, well at least when I wasn't working on learning some new capoeira songs. After breakfast, the rain came. I used the time to skype chat with my mom, which is always great. When the rain stopped, I headed out to walk along the beach in the morning sunlight. I met a baiana dancing on the shore of Praia Concha and we talked for a while about the rain and the sun and acai and friends. I promised I'd come back later in the day and set off for the other beaches I like so much while the rain was on hold. The respite was too brief, however, so I walked through the rain to the bus station to figure out my route for tomorrow's departure. I'm still shopping for a dress to wear to Jad's wedding when I return to Brasilia, so I also stopped into every little store I could find. Lots of pretty beach dresses, but nothing in the "chique" style I'll need for the wedding. I did, however, get two more bikinis for just $10 Reals. I gotta get em while I can!
The rain was off and on all day. So when it was on, I shopped, strolled and ate lunch (can't get enough of those beans and rice!). When it was off, I hit Praia Tiririca. But almost as soon as I got there, the rain came again. I found some shelter in a little cabana and learned a capoeira song (Malandragem). It's nice to understand a whole song without having to use my dictionary. The rain stopped again and I headed to Praia Resende by climbing the rock path that lines the shore. Resende was deserted, so I stopped there for a while and did some yoga to warm up. When I watch one of my yoga videos of Rodney Yee on the beach in Hawaii, I always wonder how he stays so sand-free. It must be some special effect, because after just one sun salutation, I was coated. Oh well -- it's natural exfoliant, right? After the yoga, I worked on a couple of new capoeira moves I've learned here. It's so hard to know what anything looks like, so I took video of myself practicing and was surprised by how good the movements look! (The backdrop of the roaring Atlantic helped a lot, I'm sure.) Whenever I got hot and sweaty, I walked into the rough surf and swam and washed the sand off my legs. After about an hour and half, I was dead tired so I headed back with just a couple of hours of sunlight left. I walked back to Praia Conchas, hoping to encounter my baiana friend, but I couldn't even remember where I had seen her this morning. Didn't matter much anyway because the rain came again, so I took it as a sign that I should head back to the street where my pousada is, take a nice shower, put on dry clothes and find a good place to get acai. The road along the other beaches is hilly and cobblestone, making for a bit of a hike to and from the beaches. The road along the Concha beach is unpaved and after a day full of rain is a slippery mud slide. I was surprised that I didn't bust ass, even though I could envision my whole backside covered in red mud afterwards. Leave it to me to slip on a simple wooden stage in front of 300 people and yet be able to walk for three hours on a slick muddy road in flip flops without problems :)
The rain was actually lovely to walk through, and since I had to take my time to make sure each step was secure, I had no choice but to savor every moment. I was wet and dirty and anyone who knows me knows I hate walking in wet clothes, so I couldn't wait to get back to my room. But then something happened -- I heard capoeira music. I was passing a place I had passed earlier in the morning called Casa da Bonecas, which is an African arts place with a stage and a bunch of programs about African arts and quilombos here in Brazil. I walked past and looked in, hearing the music blasting without seeing anyone inside. So I kept walking, but then I turned back. This time I saw two angoleiros on the back part of the stage, playing. I stood by the entrance and then waked in a bit and sat on the stairs. One of them saw me and waved me over to come sit on the stage. I did and found a bench and watched for quite some time. The guy who waved me over, Ze, was giving a class to the other one, Andre, who was pretty skilled, though probably as much of a newbie as I am. It was so interesting to watch the differences in their angola style of playing and training, but some things remained the same: Andre was playing with a chair, kicking over it, gingaing around it, giving it tesoura and taking it down; Ze was telling him to ginga low and to cover his face. After some time, Ze went out back and Andre kept training. He asked me if I play capoeira and I replied yes, but mostly regional, not angola. He asked me where I was from and then went back to training. I was glad -- I didn't want to interrupt, so I was happy that they went on without paying me much mind. Ze came back after a while and also asked if I play. He asked if I wanted to train. I said maybe. After a while he invited me to play with Andre. Just ginga and move. Then Ze bought the game and wow, that guy can move. He can squat down on one leg, stick the other one out in front of him and stand back up again as easily as I sit on my couch at home. He told me I could kick and that he wasn't going to hurt me. I believed him. Once I started really playing, he went wild -- telling Andre how linda (pretty) my game is. Andre bought the game and I faked a queda and Ze went wild again, screaming for me to take him down! Game after game went on like this. I was exhausted, wet, and now sweaty, too, but loved every second. Another student came to train after a while and he gave the two of them something to work on and told me he wanted to play regional with me. Rapido! So, we did and it was so fun. When I got tired I went and stood in the rain to cool off and went back to playing. Ze wanted me to practicing multiple mei lua de compassos, which usually makes me dizzy, but I was able to do three in a row without a problem. After about an hour of non-stop playing, I had to stop. He took me through their compound and showed me where they make instruments: atabaques, berimbaus and caxixis. The berimbaus were beautiful -- in addition to running this arts center, Ze carves wooden signs for people in town and the berimbaus all has amazing carvings in them. I would have bought one from him were it not for the fact that I'd have to carry it with me for the next two weeks of traveling. He was sad to hear that I'm leaving Itacare tomorrow and told me that the door is always open for me whenever I come back.
The rain stopped, so I took advantage of the moment and headed out after saying good bye and thanks. After I got back to my room and showered, I went back to give him a gift -- I've been making kite tails made of paper butterflies, so I gave him one to hang in the room where he makes the instruments.
Before coming here, I had decided that I wouldn't play any capoeira here. It is weird to travel alone and I think hearing the music and seeing people play made me feel a bit less alone. Even better, playing made me feel at home and among friends. I doubt I will do so anywhere else unless a similar situation arises. I feel confident in my ability to judge the style and tenor of players and could tell, after watching Ze and Andre for 40 minutes, that they'd be fun and safe to play with. And they were.
I finally got that bowl of acai I had been craving all day. Finally got that shower and dry clothes. And soon, I'll go to sleep. Tomorrow I head to Barra Grande. The search for paradise continues, but Itacare came pretty close.
This Jane's Addiction song was in my head all day, well at least when I wasn't working on learning some new capoeira songs. After breakfast, the rain came. I used the time to skype chat with my mom, which is always great. When the rain stopped, I headed out to walk along the beach in the morning sunlight. I met a baiana dancing on the shore of Praia Concha and we talked for a while about the rain and the sun and acai and friends. I promised I'd come back later in the day and set off for the other beaches I like so much while the rain was on hold. The respite was too brief, however, so I walked through the rain to the bus station to figure out my route for tomorrow's departure. I'm still shopping for a dress to wear to Jad's wedding when I return to Brasilia, so I also stopped into every little store I could find. Lots of pretty beach dresses, but nothing in the "chique" style I'll need for the wedding. I did, however, get two more bikinis for just $10 Reals. I gotta get em while I can!
The rain was off and on all day. So when it was on, I shopped, strolled and ate lunch (can't get enough of those beans and rice!). When it was off, I hit Praia Tiririca. But almost as soon as I got there, the rain came again. I found some shelter in a little cabana and learned a capoeira song (Malandragem). It's nice to understand a whole song without having to use my dictionary. The rain stopped again and I headed to Praia Resende by climbing the rock path that lines the shore. Resende was deserted, so I stopped there for a while and did some yoga to warm up. When I watch one of my yoga videos of Rodney Yee on the beach in Hawaii, I always wonder how he stays so sand-free. It must be some special effect, because after just one sun salutation, I was coated. Oh well -- it's natural exfoliant, right? After the yoga, I worked on a couple of new capoeira moves I've learned here. It's so hard to know what anything looks like, so I took video of myself practicing and was surprised by how good the movements look! (The backdrop of the roaring Atlantic helped a lot, I'm sure.) Whenever I got hot and sweaty, I walked into the rough surf and swam and washed the sand off my legs. After about an hour and half, I was dead tired so I headed back with just a couple of hours of sunlight left. I walked back to Praia Conchas, hoping to encounter my baiana friend, but I couldn't even remember where I had seen her this morning. Didn't matter much anyway because the rain came again, so I took it as a sign that I should head back to the street where my pousada is, take a nice shower, put on dry clothes and find a good place to get acai. The road along the other beaches is hilly and cobblestone, making for a bit of a hike to and from the beaches. The road along the Concha beach is unpaved and after a day full of rain is a slippery mud slide. I was surprised that I didn't bust ass, even though I could envision my whole backside covered in red mud afterwards. Leave it to me to slip on a simple wooden stage in front of 300 people and yet be able to walk for three hours on a slick muddy road in flip flops without problems :)
The rain was actually lovely to walk through, and since I had to take my time to make sure each step was secure, I had no choice but to savor every moment. I was wet and dirty and anyone who knows me knows I hate walking in wet clothes, so I couldn't wait to get back to my room. But then something happened -- I heard capoeira music. I was passing a place I had passed earlier in the morning called Casa da Bonecas, which is an African arts place with a stage and a bunch of programs about African arts and quilombos here in Brazil. I walked past and looked in, hearing the music blasting without seeing anyone inside. So I kept walking, but then I turned back. This time I saw two angoleiros on the back part of the stage, playing. I stood by the entrance and then waked in a bit and sat on the stairs. One of them saw me and waved me over to come sit on the stage. I did and found a bench and watched for quite some time. The guy who waved me over, Ze, was giving a class to the other one, Andre, who was pretty skilled, though probably as much of a newbie as I am. It was so interesting to watch the differences in their angola style of playing and training, but some things remained the same: Andre was playing with a chair, kicking over it, gingaing around it, giving it tesoura and taking it down; Ze was telling him to ginga low and to cover his face. After some time, Ze went out back and Andre kept training. He asked me if I play capoeira and I replied yes, but mostly regional, not angola. He asked me where I was from and then went back to training. I was glad -- I didn't want to interrupt, so I was happy that they went on without paying me much mind. Ze came back after a while and also asked if I play. He asked if I wanted to train. I said maybe. After a while he invited me to play with Andre. Just ginga and move. Then Ze bought the game and wow, that guy can move. He can squat down on one leg, stick the other one out in front of him and stand back up again as easily as I sit on my couch at home. He told me I could kick and that he wasn't going to hurt me. I believed him. Once I started really playing, he went wild -- telling Andre how linda (pretty) my game is. Andre bought the game and I faked a queda and Ze went wild again, screaming for me to take him down! Game after game went on like this. I was exhausted, wet, and now sweaty, too, but loved every second. Another student came to train after a while and he gave the two of them something to work on and told me he wanted to play regional with me. Rapido! So, we did and it was so fun. When I got tired I went and stood in the rain to cool off and went back to playing. Ze wanted me to practicing multiple mei lua de compassos, which usually makes me dizzy, but I was able to do three in a row without a problem. After about an hour of non-stop playing, I had to stop. He took me through their compound and showed me where they make instruments: atabaques, berimbaus and caxixis. The berimbaus were beautiful -- in addition to running this arts center, Ze carves wooden signs for people in town and the berimbaus all has amazing carvings in them. I would have bought one from him were it not for the fact that I'd have to carry it with me for the next two weeks of traveling. He was sad to hear that I'm leaving Itacare tomorrow and told me that the door is always open for me whenever I come back.
The rain stopped, so I took advantage of the moment and headed out after saying good bye and thanks. After I got back to my room and showered, I went back to give him a gift -- I've been making kite tails made of paper butterflies, so I gave him one to hang in the room where he makes the instruments.
Before coming here, I had decided that I wouldn't play any capoeira here. It is weird to travel alone and I think hearing the music and seeing people play made me feel a bit less alone. Even better, playing made me feel at home and among friends. I doubt I will do so anywhere else unless a similar situation arises. I feel confident in my ability to judge the style and tenor of players and could tell, after watching Ze and Andre for 40 minutes, that they'd be fun and safe to play with. And they were.
I finally got that bowl of acai I had been craving all day. Finally got that shower and dry clothes. And soon, I'll go to sleep. Tomorrow I head to Barra Grande. The search for paradise continues, but Itacare came pretty close.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Almost Paradise
Here I am, in Itacare, thinking about how close to perfect this place is. Were it not for the hordes of mosquitos feasting on my sweet flesh as I write (and read and sleep and walk and lay on the beach), I'd think I had found the best place on earth. Thankfully I have lots of natural repellent, but I do fear that it will run out at the rate I'm using it. I mean, I woke up at 1am to re-apply after feeling about seven bites happen at once!
But really, it is great here. I arrived yesterday after a two-part flight and a long bus ride from Ilheus to here and found a cozy pousada with internet and a very comfy bed. I immediately bought a bikini (hey -- it was on sale for just $20 reals!) and looked at the map to plan today's day on the beach. There are five beaches here. One is a fairly long stretch of beach buffered by a big sand dune/island called Praia de Conchas even though there aren't many conchas (shells) there. The other four are on the other side and are each very small and separated by stretches of rocky cliff/jetties. The surf is better at these beaches, which means there are more surfers on these beaches, which means you can probably guess where I spent the day. I walked through all of the beach accesses on the cobblestone road that goes up and down the hilly coastline to scope things out first and chose Praia Costa in honor of my three favorite Costas: Foca, Ana and Julia. This was a good choice. I found a flat rock to sun on and did my best lagartixa (lizard) impersonation all morning. When I wanted a break from reading, I watched the surfers. And when I wanted a break from the surfers I walked a few feet up to the big empty pool-turned-skate park to watch the guys do their thing there. Needless to say, there were beautiful views every which way I turned.
At about 1:30, when I felt my skin cooking and my stomach calling for lunch, I walked back along the rocks. I encountered some guys who had built a fire within the rocks and were cooking fish. One of them came to talk to me and told me that they stay there to protect the sea turtles that come in at night from turtle hunters. There are no turtles now because they only come when the moon is at a certain stage (when it is waxing, and close to full I think. Right now it is waning.). He invited me out for beers tonight, which I politely declined because I'm not sure what the deal is with going out here at night alone (or with some turtle protector I just met). And anyway, my plan is all beach, all day. I'm not that interested in going out drinking and stumbling home just to be hung over and icky feeling on these lovely beaches.
I ate some delicious acai for lunch and just had a huge plate of fish and rice and beans and salad for dinner ($8 reals, thank you very much!). This morning I went to the bank to withdraw money because I forgot to do so before leaving Brasilia and don't have enough for these two weeks of traveling. I was mortified when I saw that. for no apparent reason, both my debit and credit cards weren't working in the ATM. I found another ATM and tried again, but it wouldn't accept my debit PIN number (it's been so long since I used it, I lost confidence that I was remembering it correctly) and it couldn't read my credit card. I started trying to figure out how I'd pay for lodging and food for the next two weeks on just $250 reals, and planned for lots of fruit meals in super shoddy pousadas. I tried the credit card one last time and lo and behold it worked. Phew.
I haven't taken any pictures yet, and I'm pretty sure I left my cord to upload in Brasilia, so it'll be a while before I can share the beauty of this place. But wow. I'll be here til Friday and then head to Barra Grande, for more beach explorations. I'm working on a bunch of new capoeira songs to pass the time and am spending the night time watching American movies dubbed in Portuguese. Last night was Men in Black 2 (Homems do Preto, Parte Dois). All of this immersion is so fun. I remember last year that when asked for directions in Rio I couldn't understand a single thing that was said to me. Not so this year -- I understand everything!!!
But really, it is great here. I arrived yesterday after a two-part flight and a long bus ride from Ilheus to here and found a cozy pousada with internet and a very comfy bed. I immediately bought a bikini (hey -- it was on sale for just $20 reals!) and looked at the map to plan today's day on the beach. There are five beaches here. One is a fairly long stretch of beach buffered by a big sand dune/island called Praia de Conchas even though there aren't many conchas (shells) there. The other four are on the other side and are each very small and separated by stretches of rocky cliff/jetties. The surf is better at these beaches, which means there are more surfers on these beaches, which means you can probably guess where I spent the day. I walked through all of the beach accesses on the cobblestone road that goes up and down the hilly coastline to scope things out first and chose Praia Costa in honor of my three favorite Costas: Foca, Ana and Julia. This was a good choice. I found a flat rock to sun on and did my best lagartixa (lizard) impersonation all morning. When I wanted a break from reading, I watched the surfers. And when I wanted a break from the surfers I walked a few feet up to the big empty pool-turned-skate park to watch the guys do their thing there. Needless to say, there were beautiful views every which way I turned.
At about 1:30, when I felt my skin cooking and my stomach calling for lunch, I walked back along the rocks. I encountered some guys who had built a fire within the rocks and were cooking fish. One of them came to talk to me and told me that they stay there to protect the sea turtles that come in at night from turtle hunters. There are no turtles now because they only come when the moon is at a certain stage (when it is waxing, and close to full I think. Right now it is waning.). He invited me out for beers tonight, which I politely declined because I'm not sure what the deal is with going out here at night alone (or with some turtle protector I just met). And anyway, my plan is all beach, all day. I'm not that interested in going out drinking and stumbling home just to be hung over and icky feeling on these lovely beaches.
I ate some delicious acai for lunch and just had a huge plate of fish and rice and beans and salad for dinner ($8 reals, thank you very much!). This morning I went to the bank to withdraw money because I forgot to do so before leaving Brasilia and don't have enough for these two weeks of traveling. I was mortified when I saw that. for no apparent reason, both my debit and credit cards weren't working in the ATM. I found another ATM and tried again, but it wouldn't accept my debit PIN number (it's been so long since I used it, I lost confidence that I was remembering it correctly) and it couldn't read my credit card. I started trying to figure out how I'd pay for lodging and food for the next two weeks on just $250 reals, and planned for lots of fruit meals in super shoddy pousadas. I tried the credit card one last time and lo and behold it worked. Phew.
I haven't taken any pictures yet, and I'm pretty sure I left my cord to upload in Brasilia, so it'll be a while before I can share the beauty of this place. But wow. I'll be here til Friday and then head to Barra Grande, for more beach explorations. I'm working on a bunch of new capoeira songs to pass the time and am spending the night time watching American movies dubbed in Portuguese. Last night was Men in Black 2 (Homems do Preto, Parte Dois). All of this immersion is so fun. I remember last year that when asked for directions in Rio I couldn't understand a single thing that was said to me. Not so this year -- I understand everything!!!
Friday, July 30, 2010
Trips, slips and flat out falls
This week has been jam packed with exciting things, many of them involving the floor. It was kicked off at the academy by me completing my first ever bande em pe, a foot sweep which is actually very easy if the timing is right. I didn't for a moment think I would pull it off, and I felt pretty bad afterwards for doing it. Earlier that night I played a good, long game with Ralil and at the end of it, he kicked martelo and I got out of the way but my arm came up automatically to grab his leg for a queda (which is a way to grab someone's kicking leg then sweep their standing foot out from under them). I didn't grab him, but I thought afterwards that it would have been better for me to have shown a bande em pe. I thought to myself that I need to make the bande em pe attempt as automatic as the queda attempt. So, in this other game, when the other person threw a martelo, I remember what I had said to myself and went in for the bande em pe at the exact right moment. It was mostly luck that caused the other person to fall, almost entirely luck.
I guess luck was sort of on my side at the start of last week because the next night when we had a big roda at Nagi's class, I was the one to fall. Lots of people came from all the differnt classes in Brasilia and we trained maculele first, then did some movements across the room. Then we were separated into two rodas, one for graduados and one for the rest of us novos. At the end of the night the novos joined the graduados and I decided to just watch. No one under a blue cord was buying the game, and I wasnt exactly sure if we had been told we could play or not, so I found a good spot to view and enjoyed the games. But then, I'm not sure what happened, I thought I'd give it a shot and go in to play. So, I bought the game with a girl who trains with Zezinho and we had a good game. Very fast, but totaly controlled. Beija Flor bought the game with me and we continued the speed. She tried to give me a vingativa, but I wrapped by leg around hers just as she started to lift me off the ground and I got out of it. I returned to my ginga, we exchanged a few more kicks and after one of my kicks, the next thing I knew I was flying across the roda after being pushed somehow by her. I landed on my butt and my right elbow pretty hard and everyone holding down the roda on the at side had to quickly get out of the way. I found out the next day that my elbow had landed on someone's foot and broke his toe in three places. He said that his docotr said my elbow would be shattered if I hadn't landed on him. When I told Nagi, he said it was because of an intervention by god and that it's better to break a toe than shatter an elbow, whch I know is true, but I still feel terrible (even though it's nobody's fault). It was the first time I've been taken down in since I arrived, and until I found out about the toe sbreakage, I was actually really happy about it. I had defended one attack perfectly and got taken down by another. A good balance for me, I think.
'But luck has to run out sometime and in order to notice that things are balanced, sometimes they have to get unbalanced first. The next two days were spent rehearsing for the big show at the National Theater. I had been rehearsing for maculele since I arrived and was really excited because I was picked as one of five pairs of people who'd play in the open roda at the end of the choreography. Papiba had even pulled me aside after he saw a rehersal to tell me that he really liked my maculele style. I also was going to be the orchestra de berimbaus and got talked into doing Maracatu. All went well at the rehearsals and all went well at the show. Except for the fact that as I was running across the stage to meet up with my open roda partner, I slipped and fell. Doh!!! I got up right away with no injury anywhere other than my pride and did my bit with as much confidence as I could muster. Later I found out that two other girls slipped and fell during the choreography for the principals, the result of a dry wood stage floor, I think. So I didn't feel so bad. But I should have banged my sticks on the floor for the 3-4 count on my way up to make it seem like the fall was on purpose. Oh well. Next time. Maracatu went perfectly, so I'm trying to focus on that success.
I gave my camera to a friend in the audience who took millions of pictures so I'll post some sometime soon.
This weekend will hopefully involve some water/pool action and a pagode party. I leave very early on Tuesday morning to start my excursion to the beaches. First -- Itacare, then Barra Grande, then Morro de Sao Paulo, then Salvador. I'll be gone for two weeks and will return to Brasilia for about two more weeks.
I'm savoring every moment, but time is still flying by....
Untul next time!!!
I guess luck was sort of on my side at the start of last week because the next night when we had a big roda at Nagi's class, I was the one to fall. Lots of people came from all the differnt classes in Brasilia and we trained maculele first, then did some movements across the room. Then we were separated into two rodas, one for graduados and one for the rest of us novos. At the end of the night the novos joined the graduados and I decided to just watch. No one under a blue cord was buying the game, and I wasnt exactly sure if we had been told we could play or not, so I found a good spot to view and enjoyed the games. But then, I'm not sure what happened, I thought I'd give it a shot and go in to play. So, I bought the game with a girl who trains with Zezinho and we had a good game. Very fast, but totaly controlled. Beija Flor bought the game with me and we continued the speed. She tried to give me a vingativa, but I wrapped by leg around hers just as she started to lift me off the ground and I got out of it. I returned to my ginga, we exchanged a few more kicks and after one of my kicks, the next thing I knew I was flying across the roda after being pushed somehow by her. I landed on my butt and my right elbow pretty hard and everyone holding down the roda on the at side had to quickly get out of the way. I found out the next day that my elbow had landed on someone's foot and broke his toe in three places. He said that his docotr said my elbow would be shattered if I hadn't landed on him. When I told Nagi, he said it was because of an intervention by god and that it's better to break a toe than shatter an elbow, whch I know is true, but I still feel terrible (even though it's nobody's fault). It was the first time I've been taken down in since I arrived, and until I found out about the toe sbreakage, I was actually really happy about it. I had defended one attack perfectly and got taken down by another. A good balance for me, I think.
'But luck has to run out sometime and in order to notice that things are balanced, sometimes they have to get unbalanced first. The next two days were spent rehearsing for the big show at the National Theater. I had been rehearsing for maculele since I arrived and was really excited because I was picked as one of five pairs of people who'd play in the open roda at the end of the choreography. Papiba had even pulled me aside after he saw a rehersal to tell me that he really liked my maculele style. I also was going to be the orchestra de berimbaus and got talked into doing Maracatu. All went well at the rehearsals and all went well at the show. Except for the fact that as I was running across the stage to meet up with my open roda partner, I slipped and fell. Doh!!! I got up right away with no injury anywhere other than my pride and did my bit with as much confidence as I could muster. Later I found out that two other girls slipped and fell during the choreography for the principals, the result of a dry wood stage floor, I think. So I didn't feel so bad. But I should have banged my sticks on the floor for the 3-4 count on my way up to make it seem like the fall was on purpose. Oh well. Next time. Maracatu went perfectly, so I'm trying to focus on that success.
I gave my camera to a friend in the audience who took millions of pictures so I'll post some sometime soon.
This weekend will hopefully involve some water/pool action and a pagode party. I leave very early on Tuesday morning to start my excursion to the beaches. First -- Itacare, then Barra Grande, then Morro de Sao Paulo, then Salvador. I'll be gone for two weeks and will return to Brasilia for about two more weeks.
I'm savoring every moment, but time is still flying by....
Untul next time!!!
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