Dancing with Dominicans

Sao Paulo was staggering to say the least. I was struck on my fight into the city at how the city spread as a net of lights as far as the eye could see out of the tiny plane window. Many cities are large and light but Sao Paulo was striking.
Carol took me to the top of one of Sao Paulo's towers that had a view of the entire city. Immediately Sao Paulo's status as one of the largest cities in the world was established. I thought my standards of "big city" were established by Manhattan's tall bussiness district but Sao Paulo has forever shrunk New York in my mind. From the top of the tower buildings rose up in every direction. The tower gave a 360 degree view of downtown Manhattan, the merge of 10 city's downtowns. Everywhere we went the streets were full of people and the downtown metro stations (surprisingly clean) at 11am were busier than the Time Square metro at 5pm. My standards of big city have been reset, until I visit Tokyo.
I spent a sleepless night trying to decide whether to stay or return home but left Sao Paulo Saturday while holding back tears. My final memory of Brazil will be of running to another terminal to buy coffee. The single cafe in our terminal had a broken coffee maker but I couldn't leave without one more glorious Brazilian coffee so, to remain in a secured area, I had to run to a cafe in the next terminal to buy coffee. In departing depression I bought two and ran between terminals "double fisting it," coffee in one hand and cappacino in the other.
After many hours of surfing various states of conciousness, our plane circled Miami- Little Havana. After the Sao Paulo, I had to stifle chuckles "that's a city; that tiny thing?!" All flights to the northeast US were cancled for weather so now I am visiting Miami for three days.
In the sketchiest manner possible, I met a couple of guys from the Dominican Republic at a resturant near my hotel. They invited me to a street festival where we met more their friends, more Dominicans, and were surrounded by latin America. I am amused that I went from lingual isolation with Portuguese to lingual isolation with Spanish.

I would comment on the festival now (especially as the representation of masulinity was very interesting) but I am being shuffled around between about 5 guys and the time to change hands again has come.

Cities Cities Everywhere and Each One Different

I am preparing for a day of city life and a glimpse of what beats in São Paulo. People who are from here seem to enjoy it (at least as stated to a foreigner who can't understand much) but people who aren't from here seem to view it as just and urban desert- having no beach is a fatal flaw.

The wealth of the city is striking now that I can compare it to other parts of the country. Even Fortaleza and Manaus (two of Brazil's large cities) are plagued by a poverty that deprives them of glamourous districts; well to do apartment buildings, nice shops, and nice resturants. My stay in each was short but from what I saw, Forteleza only has half a strip of nice area (along the beach front) and Manaus didn't have any. It is painful to understand how concentrated the finances are. I sat on the beach chating with a Brazilian fellow and as we watched vendors walk by selling earrings for R$ 5 as a lively hood, he told me about his friend who is starting in a governmental position for R$ 14,000 a month. Teachers in Manaus make R$ 1,000 a month but I was told that the teachers in the Amazon make a lot - R$ 4,000 a month.

I still feel a bit of civilization shock from the Amazon (trouble understanding why we complicate things so much) so I am interested to see how the day goes.

Hitting the Wave

I can now return to the States. I have spent a day catching the waves... with my butt, back, chest, and every other body part. It is a shame my tumbling off a surf board was not recorded as I could have been useful for choreographing some extremely avant-garde ballet. Today I hope to surf again.

Due to excesses of things and people to see and a paucity of time, my flights have had to be delayed. I fly to São Paulo Thursday evening and back to New York City basically all day on Saturday.

I am applying to the government to take a piece of beach or slice or rainforest home with me. I am not sure it will go well but I maintain hope.

Perhaps one of the best moments has been canoeing back to the rainforest with the lights and sounds of homo sapiens replaced by a deafening amphibian symphony and sky studded stars radiating as though the sun were smashed and its shards scattered on a midnight canvas within an arm's reach.

The Beach: a marketplace

Brazilian beaches have an economy of their own. separate from the traditional economy section devoted to tourism. This is a phenomena I haven’t seen else where (though I hear it also lives in southeast Asia). Venders weave between tables provided by the beach front restaurant. Tables, chairs, and safe boxes are provided for free/rent depending. These umbrellas create a shaded environment which is necessary in the blinding tropical sun for sustaining any life forms.

The vendors sell a remarkable array of items: shirts, shorts, swim suits, hammocks, handcrafts, sun glasses, jewelry, massages, DVD's, sunscreen, cigarettes, gum, kangas (to lay on sand) and many kinds of food. If you sit in a sufficiently low density of people vendors don't bother trekking over and abandoning the majority of the heard of beach goers. In these sparsely populated outskirts you can watch the market flow but improper calculation of distance from the mobile merchants results in one facing regular inquisitions and the desire to reach for a large-fly repellant.

I wonder about the interaction of the vendors and the restaurant. Is it a relation of symbiosis, mutually benefiting, commensalism? The markets of the vendors and the restaurants do not entirely overlap but they do both compete for money, an extremely limiting resource. I wonder if there is friction.

I wish I could buy a bikini on an American beach and have it fit but then again, not being accosted has its benefits too.

The Color of My Bikini Has Changed

After being awake for 56 hours and traveling for 32, I arrived in Fortaleza, one of Brazil's large cities in the northeast which is notorious for its sunny weather and gorgeous beaches. Fortaleza carries a status in Brazil of being beautiful similar to the way Berkeley carries a status in the States of being a cool place. Every person (I have asked) has chimes into the choir "Oh! Fortaleza is so beautiful, beautiful beaches!" This is common Brazilian knowledge and having visited is not a prerequisite for knowing.

I am visiting my wonderful friend Cristina. We met 3 years ago when I volunteered with my school in a program near Fortaleza. She is unfortunately ill and I am unfortunately fending off a deep envy that even in her sickness she supports the stereotypical image of beautiful Brazilian goddess.

We visited Croco Beach, Cristina's favorite. There I was mourning my departure from the Amazon and suffering "civilization-shock" until I stepped onto the white sand and the turquoise water washed away all regrets and baptized me as a beach connesouir. Sense would say the beach ends at some location but observation shows the ivory sands dissolve into a mist on both sides, a mist which could easily be the door to infinity.

We returned to lunch at Cristina's apartment and after I ventured the 6 blocks to the beach nearest her home. Like so many others it is beautiful but after visiting some of the best of the world here, I noted such things which previously were trivialities - the waves kick up a bit of sand rather than breaking crystal clear and the occasional piece of seaweed floats by. These things would never exist at Croco Beach.

A Trip in the Amazon

It was short, sweet, sour, and only six days but I still do not know how to summerize my sojourn in the Amazon. Should I refer to my 36 pages of notes?

I am currently at the Manaus airport waiting for the third flight of the day for Forteleza. I was supposed to arrive about 8am this morning but do to an incompetent weasle who booked my flights, meterological conditions over a tropical rainforest, and then the fact that no one in the airport (including the employee who promised to ensure I made my flight) thought to wake me when the airport reopened, I will now arrive at 8:20 this evening, God willing.

The Amazon pulses and sends out vines to ensare both the unfortunate wanderer and the awestruck tourist. My machete skills are still poor so I am having trouble breaking through and returning to urbanization. I have developed an annoying habit of blogging in my head and while I was in the forest I thought I would summerize my trip with dissatisfaction. There was plenty of frustration and disappointment but the moment my stay took hold yesterday when we traveled back to Manaus. Upon arrival Manaus seemed like a duppy down. Upon return to Manaus from the forest I felt myself pressed with the imposition of such a large city. It was only six days but the forest was so dark and the animals so loud that I feel dazed by returning to the city and embarking. I miss my hammock.

I spent the first three days as I expected. It was a group of 6 tourists and basically we played boy scouts in the Amazon. The lead guide was indian and his second hand took me out by myself for the rest of my time as everyone else left.

time is out!@!

Frustrations

Camera stress has re-ignited as when my camera started malfunctioning this morning in the Rio train station. Little is less welcome at 7am after an overnight bus trip. Today I was accompanied to the Manaus markets to gear up for my trip (anti-itch cream!!!) and price new ones. My camera is playing with me occasionally metering correctly but other times washing out in over exposure. Damn, I need my tripod. My tour guide is a bit creepy as he babysat me for the day and has no inhibition about patting me etc. but he was sweet enough to offer to loan his: “it’s a great camera and it will take nice pictures for you”. It is a point-and-shoot so if my camera continues to malfunction in the forest I may go crazy and defect to the tribe of Amazonian women.

I’m getting so frustrated with internet. Sometimes feeling like you are stepping back in time is a welcome experience but not when it is like stepping back to dial-up.

I am also giving up on uploading photos. Whether I should blame blogspot or the connection is pointless, I blame both.