All things come to pass
It finally happened. I have gone through another pair of sunglasses. I really liked this last pair. But I always lose my sunglasses, it seems inevitable. Actually this time I didn’t lose them. Just one of the screws holding the glasses together came lose, and I lost the screw.
I could see it getting loose for about a week before it happened. I tried everything, credit cards, thumbnails, folded up pieces of paper, but I just couldn’t find anything that would work on that tiny screw. Finally one day at the beach, I unfolded my sunglasses, the screw came out and fell into the sand, and that’s all she wrote.
Ellick told me I can just go to an optometrist and they’ll fix it. But that doesn’t sound much like something I would do. Besides I think maybe it’s time for this pair of sunglasses to go, and for me to move on to another pair. It’s a shame really because it’s a super expensive pair of RayBans.
I don’t believe in buying expensive sunglasses, mostly because I know I go through them so quickly. That’s what made this pair great. I didn’t buy them; my friend Rochelle stole them for me. Actually it’s probably more like my friend Jamie’s friend Rochelle stole them for me. But it was ok, her thievery passed Kant’s test of moral imperative therefore I always felt good about wearing those glasses.
We were all at Oktoberfest last year. And some guy kept harassing Rochelle and her partner Linnea. The guy just wouldn’t take, “no thanks, I’m a lesbian and here with my girlfriend” as an answer. And Rochelle is kind of a kleptomaniac anyways. So she stole his glasses and gave them to me. It was literally the best present I’ve ever had.
I know I’ve kinda fallen off the face of the hemisphere with some people I used to hang out with. Time ran short as I was packing up and getting ready to head off, it’s hard to keep up with people when you’re just fucking around without any real plans. Those are just excuses, but sometimes a good excuse is worth its weight in gold. I miss Jamie and her crew, we always had fun together. Maybe we’ll meet again some day on the Avenue.
I wound up buying a new pair of sunglasses. The street vendor wanted $15 Reals for them but I got him down to $10. It’s nice, got pads under the nose and the ears. There is crack in the lens that was covered by the sticker, and I didn’t see it until I got to the beach. I thought about going back and asking for another pair, but actually, this pair is fine for now. And at some point when the universe decides I need another pair, I’ll move on again.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
Friday, March 03, 2006
What’s the plan, Stan?
By the time I finally rolled out of bed, Ellick had already taken off and gotten breakfast, checked the internet and argued with our apartment people. I was still lounging around in my boxers when he got back. “So what’s the plan for the day” he asked me? “Well I was thinking of going to the beach, and then getting some food” I replied. I love a well developed plan.
Ellick liked the idea, but thought we needed some more details. “What beach? How do we get there? What are we doing afterwards?” Then things got complicated.
It results in plans being made quickly and efficiently. Of course, sometimes the plan is completely crazy, as you can tell by looking around South America. But other times they come up with great ideas. Like selling food in restaurants per kilo, or having a seperate driver and ticket-taker on the bus.
Usually the conversations start with "Well we could go to Barra da Tijuca or Copacabana or Flamengo and here are all the relative merits of those choices, but I have no opinion on which one we should choose" This is invariably a lie. The game begins with the other party being forced to probe and determine which one of those options is in actuality the correct. South American woman also seem to like to play this game, but maybe that's just universal to women.
And then someone else says “Yeah but it’s kinda hot today” when what they really mean is “I don’t want to take the bus” And then you spend 15 minutes talking about if it’s hot or not, and you finally figure out that they’re cool with it as long as you take a taxi.
And then eventually when all the information is out on the table someone finally says “let’s go to the beach at Barra de Tijucu.” Plans are evil, I say just live in the moment and do whatever sounds like a good idea at any given time. What’s the worst that could possibly happen?
By the time I finally rolled out of bed, Ellick had already taken off and gotten breakfast, checked the internet and argued with our apartment people. I was still lounging around in my boxers when he got back. “So what’s the plan for the day” he asked me? “Well I was thinking of going to the beach, and then getting some food” I replied. I love a well developed plan.
Ellick liked the idea, but thought we needed some more details. “What beach? How do we get there? What are we doing afterwards?” Then things got complicated.
Ellick: “Should we take the bus?”The thing I’ve noticed about planning is we seem to spend more time on talking about making the plan, than actually making the plan. I think because our approach is backwards. My South American friends actually do kind of make plans. Someone will randomly say something like “Let’s take a cab to Lapa” and then you have a plan. And when it’s a big group of people sometimes two or three people in the group will talk amongst each other and come up with something. You make sure everyone is cool with it and then if anyone objects, you talk about it.
Kashif: “Do you mean the collectivo or the micro-bus?
Ellick: “The bus”
Kashif: “Well they call the bus the collectivo, and then there are the tiny little micro-busses
Ellick: “Where do we catch it?”
Kashif: “Well we get the collectivo on Av. Copacabana and the micro-bus near the beach”
Ellick: “Lets take the bus to somewhere near the shopping mall and the beach”
Kashif: “You mean the collectivo?”
Ellick: “I mean the bus!”
Kashif “I’m gonna go take a shower now”
It results in plans being made quickly and efficiently. Of course, sometimes the plan is completely crazy, as you can tell by looking around South America. But other times they come up with great ideas. Like selling food in restaurants per kilo, or having a seperate driver and ticket-taker on the bus.
Usually the conversations start with "Well we could go to Barra da Tijuca or Copacabana or Flamengo and here are all the relative merits of those choices, but I have no opinion on which one we should choose" This is invariably a lie. The game begins with the other party being forced to probe and determine which one of those options is in actuality the correct. South American woman also seem to like to play this game, but maybe that's just universal to women.
And then someone else says “Yeah but it’s kinda hot today” when what they really mean is “I don’t want to take the bus” And then you spend 15 minutes talking about if it’s hot or not, and you finally figure out that they’re cool with it as long as you take a taxi.
And then eventually when all the information is out on the table someone finally says “let’s go to the beach at Barra de Tijucu.” Plans are evil, I say just live in the moment and do whatever sounds like a good idea at any given time. What’s the worst that could possibly happen?
Here comes the sun
It last day of Carnaval, and Ellick and I decided we should hit some clubs. This unfortunately meant I’d have to put on socks. I haven’t worn socks in this country as of yet, so this was a big deal. In fact the last time I wore socks was in Panama and even that was only because I was hiking through the rain forest.
But the socks went on. So did shoes and a t-shirt. I think I’ve decided I’d prefer to live somewhere where all of these items are truly optional. After all of our research we had heard about some club in Copacabana that was supposed to be great. Of course when we got there it turned out to be closed. No worries, we moved on the Plan B, which was another club in another part of town. The cabbie dropped us off somewhere with a lot of people gathering in front of a club.
Ok, this will work, we thought. After waiting behind the velvet rope for a ½ hour we figured out this wasn’t the place we were trying to find, but it had the distinct advantage of being right in front of us, so we decided to go in. The place was the size of Ellick’s condo in Seattle and packed! Music was good, people were beautiful, but after a while we had to escape and check out another club, which turned out to be even more ridiculous. You see some pretty crazy things on the dance floor in Rio during Fat Tuesday.
By 5 in the morning we were back in the apartment (Did you like how I just fast-forwarded there? I promised Ellick that what happens in Rio stays in Rio!) We had both just about decided to head to bed when we started to notice it was getting light out. Might as well stay up and catch the sunrise over the ocean, huh? While watching the first rays of light I got the great idea to go for a dip.
Ellick told me I shouldn’t go. There was literally no one on the beach, I’d been up all night doing my best Rock Star impression, the water was cold and I’d probably get a cramp. But sometimes I get ideas in my head, and no ones going to talk me out of them. Sometimes I just decide to do something, and that’s just the way it’s going to be. Not too often, usually I’m pretty flexible, but sometimes.
The water turned out to be perfect. I stretched out beforehand so I wasn’t too worried about cramping up. I met a nice Brazilian mom and daughter who happily agreed to watch my stuff while I basked in the morning light. It’s not too often you get an entire ocean to yourself, especially at the Copacabana.
Turns out the secret to floating is to just relax and let go. Trust the water to do what it does. Don’t fight it, let it carry you, don’t struggle. And inevitably when you hit some waves and get some water in your mouth, don’t panic and just know that that’s everything is going to be ok.
It last day of Carnaval, and Ellick and I decided we should hit some clubs. This unfortunately meant I’d have to put on socks. I haven’t worn socks in this country as of yet, so this was a big deal. In fact the last time I wore socks was in Panama and even that was only because I was hiking through the rain forest.
But the socks went on. So did shoes and a t-shirt. I think I’ve decided I’d prefer to live somewhere where all of these items are truly optional. After all of our research we had heard about some club in Copacabana that was supposed to be great. Of course when we got there it turned out to be closed. No worries, we moved on the Plan B, which was another club in another part of town. The cabbie dropped us off somewhere with a lot of people gathering in front of a club.
Ok, this will work, we thought. After waiting behind the velvet rope for a ½ hour we figured out this wasn’t the place we were trying to find, but it had the distinct advantage of being right in front of us, so we decided to go in. The place was the size of Ellick’s condo in Seattle and packed! Music was good, people were beautiful, but after a while we had to escape and check out another club, which turned out to be even more ridiculous. You see some pretty crazy things on the dance floor in Rio during Fat Tuesday.
By 5 in the morning we were back in the apartment (Did you like how I just fast-forwarded there? I promised Ellick that what happens in Rio stays in Rio!) We had both just about decided to head to bed when we started to notice it was getting light out. Might as well stay up and catch the sunrise over the ocean, huh? While watching the first rays of light I got the great idea to go for a dip.
Ellick told me I shouldn’t go. There was literally no one on the beach, I’d been up all night doing my best Rock Star impression, the water was cold and I’d probably get a cramp. But sometimes I get ideas in my head, and no ones going to talk me out of them. Sometimes I just decide to do something, and that’s just the way it’s going to be. Not too often, usually I’m pretty flexible, but sometimes.
The water turned out to be perfect. I stretched out beforehand so I wasn’t too worried about cramping up. I met a nice Brazilian mom and daughter who happily agreed to watch my stuff while I basked in the morning light. It’s not too often you get an entire ocean to yourself, especially at the Copacabana.
Turns out the secret to floating is to just relax and let go. Trust the water to do what it does. Don’t fight it, let it carry you, don’t struggle. And inevitably when you hit some waves and get some water in your mouth, don’t panic and just know that that’s everything is going to be ok.
The Tick
There was this cartoon I really used to like, called “The Tick.” It was about this guy who was a tick. But not any normal tick mind you, a human-sized, super-strong Tick. He lived in a city full of superheroes and supervillans and kinda bumbled around but somehow always managed to save the day. His sidekick was a moth named Arthur. A lot of you probably have heard of it, it was a comic book, and then a cartoon and finally a live-action TV series for a while. I really dug the cartoon.
I’ve got this tick of my own. It started under my right eye. But at this point it’s moved to both eyes, upper and lower. I think it’s at the point where some people have noticed it. I used to think it was just the stress of work that caused it, but I haven’t worked for over two months and the tick is getting worse. I watch it run amok in the mirror sometimes.
I wonder where it comes from. Repressed childhood memories? The first visible evidence of a shattered sense of sanity? I worry about becoming like Raskolnikov from “Crime and Punishment” Absorded in my own sense of superiority that I lose contact with the rest of the world. Torn apart by alienation from humanity. Maybe it’s just a tick.
But I think I know where that neurotic path leads me. I can avoid the anxiety that life presents me with, avoid being a person by slipping into madness. Everyone is searching for a path towards immortality. Whether it’s through love and family, god and heaven, heroism and fame or whatever else provides a sense of personal fulfillment. It takes courage to define ones own existence. It’s easier to be the sheep than the shepard. But it’s the Shepard who has to guide his flock.
There was this cartoon I really used to like, called “The Tick.” It was about this guy who was a tick. But not any normal tick mind you, a human-sized, super-strong Tick. He lived in a city full of superheroes and supervillans and kinda bumbled around but somehow always managed to save the day. His sidekick was a moth named Arthur. A lot of you probably have heard of it, it was a comic book, and then a cartoon and finally a live-action TV series for a while. I really dug the cartoon.
I’ve got this tick of my own. It started under my right eye. But at this point it’s moved to both eyes, upper and lower. I think it’s at the point where some people have noticed it. I used to think it was just the stress of work that caused it, but I haven’t worked for over two months and the tick is getting worse. I watch it run amok in the mirror sometimes.
I wonder where it comes from. Repressed childhood memories? The first visible evidence of a shattered sense of sanity? I worry about becoming like Raskolnikov from “Crime and Punishment” Absorded in my own sense of superiority that I lose contact with the rest of the world. Torn apart by alienation from humanity. Maybe it’s just a tick.
But I think I know where that neurotic path leads me. I can avoid the anxiety that life presents me with, avoid being a person by slipping into madness. Everyone is searching for a path towards immortality. Whether it’s through love and family, god and heaven, heroism and fame or whatever else provides a sense of personal fulfillment. It takes courage to define ones own existence. It’s easier to be the sheep than the shepard. But it’s the Shepard who has to guide his flock.
Lies that life is black and white
Samira, Ellick and I woke up right about the same time. Pretty amazing considering that Samira and I were out till all hours of the night at the street party at Lapa, and Ellick went to bed early because of his upset tummy. That’s the problem with traveling, you always get sick.
The street party in Lapa was great. We joined a group of folks at the hostel organized by the frat boys from the Univeristy of Washington. Amazing who you run into on vacation. And they are all tall, which comes in handy when 20 of you are trying to find each other in a crowd of 15,000. Josh would just raise his can of Skol in the air and shout “follow the beer!” and we’d all know where to go. By 3 in the morning Josh had followed too much of the beer and Samira was now nicknamed “Poopy Foot” after her traumatic experience in the bathroom. The party hadn’t stopped but it was time to go.
The next afternoon as we were all hanging out in our living room Ellick and Samira decided we needed a plan. There were so many things that needed to be done. An agenda, a schedule, maybe a white board. I said lets to go the beach and figure it out from there.
I laid in the shade while Ellick and Samira debated what was to be done. “We should make a booking for tickets to the sambadrome” Samira said. “Yeah and we should check the internet and research which balls to go to” Ellick added. Bookings? Research? These are words that have fallen out of my vocabulary in the last couple of months. Nobody seemed to like my “plan” of just hanging out and seeing what happens later.
I’ve decided I like this whole extremely laid-back life style. Not having actual places to be at specific times. In fact as much of a plan as I’ve had in the last 2 months is that I had to be in Rio during Carnaval, but that was about it. I’m starting to understand it’s not for everyone. Some people are just much happier knowing what will happen and when it will happen.
Eventually the two of them guilted me into getting up out of the sand and heading back to the apartment. I don’t think just lounging on the beach all day is their idea of fun. Guess it’s not for everyone, but I’ve been pretty content doing this for a while. Of course I am starting to peel. Karma is a total bitch. I’ve spent many years making fun of my white friends who always complain about sunburns and peeling, and after 10 days in the Brazilian sun I’m having the same problem, although it actually isn’t too bad.
Back at the homestead various organizational options were discussed. Samira threatened to make a list at one point and I finally had to put my foot down. I’ll be damned if any lists are going to be made on my vacation. Ok, it may not be a vacation, more like an extended voyage, but still, no lists! But we needed to know where we were going, weigh the various options, their advantages and disadvantages and come up with contingency plans.
We decided dinner first, one of our regular por kilo places. Ellick and Samira have both had some health issues down here. Ellick’s stomach has been bothering him, and while I’ve avoided most of the temptation I still occasionally mock him for chiding me about eating the shrimp sold on the beach. And Samira has something going on with the heat and her feet, but I think that’s just the ill-effects from “Poopy Foot”.
Finally we decided that Samira and I would check out what the folks at the hostel were doing, and report back to Ellick while he lounged for a bit. We’d go find this party after all. The hostel is always fun, people are always social, everyone is hanging out trying to get something started. Tonight was similar, but it so happened to be over-run with Aussies, the English and of course us folks from the Good Ole’ US. All of the Latin Americans had left already because everything was too damn expensive during Carnaval.
Ok, I’ll admit it. Those of you reading between the lines have probably already figured this out. I’ve decided I prefer my Latin American friends to the “westerners” I’ve met. Simply, they’re more fun and they’re better people. Not everyone obviously, people are still people, but there is something about this whole continent where everyone seems to enjoy themselves, no matter what other problems they got going on. I’m sorry folks from the US, I’ve just changed as a person. I’ve found someone else who matches my personality better. I hope we can still be friends. You see it’s not you guys, it’s me really.
Well at the hostel we ran into Karin and Flaco, the Argentineans, and my last two friends South American friends left in Brazil. They had just come back from their trip to Ihla Grande. It was beautiful they told me, you have to go! The water is perfectly clear! But unfortunately for them, it turned out that the hostel had no space left. Actually no one in the city had any space left. They just needed a place to crash for the night until their flight tomorrow. “Well come over to our place” I invited them, “we got two empty sofas you can sleep on and it sure beats the beach.”
I was a little concerned that Samira and Ellick wouldn’t be too hot about this idea. But they were very cool. Flaco only speak a little English (mostly lyrics to Doors and Rolling Stones songs, with some Bob Marley thrown in for good measure). Karin’s English is OK, but she also speaks French. But Ellick speaks some Spanish, and Samira some French. Somehow we all managed to get along, I got to play translator which was fun. We just sat back and took it easy, ate, drank and shared what we had. Headed to the beach and talked, drank some more. I felt like our plan had worked out perfectly, even though this event wasn’t on any of our schedules.
There are two types of people in the world. Those that need to know when and where the party starts, and those that don’t worry about it because the party is always where they are. Actually there are more kinds than that, and I know that because I’m not either one. But maybe those are the two extremes on the spectrum, and I’m starting to gravitate more and more towards the one end.
Samira, Ellick and I woke up right about the same time. Pretty amazing considering that Samira and I were out till all hours of the night at the street party at Lapa, and Ellick went to bed early because of his upset tummy. That’s the problem with traveling, you always get sick.
The street party in Lapa was great. We joined a group of folks at the hostel organized by the frat boys from the Univeristy of Washington. Amazing who you run into on vacation. And they are all tall, which comes in handy when 20 of you are trying to find each other in a crowd of 15,000. Josh would just raise his can of Skol in the air and shout “follow the beer!” and we’d all know where to go. By 3 in the morning Josh had followed too much of the beer and Samira was now nicknamed “Poopy Foot” after her traumatic experience in the bathroom. The party hadn’t stopped but it was time to go.
The next afternoon as we were all hanging out in our living room Ellick and Samira decided we needed a plan. There were so many things that needed to be done. An agenda, a schedule, maybe a white board. I said lets to go the beach and figure it out from there.
I laid in the shade while Ellick and Samira debated what was to be done. “We should make a booking for tickets to the sambadrome” Samira said. “Yeah and we should check the internet and research which balls to go to” Ellick added. Bookings? Research? These are words that have fallen out of my vocabulary in the last couple of months. Nobody seemed to like my “plan” of just hanging out and seeing what happens later.
I’ve decided I like this whole extremely laid-back life style. Not having actual places to be at specific times. In fact as much of a plan as I’ve had in the last 2 months is that I had to be in Rio during Carnaval, but that was about it. I’m starting to understand it’s not for everyone. Some people are just much happier knowing what will happen and when it will happen.
Eventually the two of them guilted me into getting up out of the sand and heading back to the apartment. I don’t think just lounging on the beach all day is their idea of fun. Guess it’s not for everyone, but I’ve been pretty content doing this for a while. Of course I am starting to peel. Karma is a total bitch. I’ve spent many years making fun of my white friends who always complain about sunburns and peeling, and after 10 days in the Brazilian sun I’m having the same problem, although it actually isn’t too bad.
Back at the homestead various organizational options were discussed. Samira threatened to make a list at one point and I finally had to put my foot down. I’ll be damned if any lists are going to be made on my vacation. Ok, it may not be a vacation, more like an extended voyage, but still, no lists! But we needed to know where we were going, weigh the various options, their advantages and disadvantages and come up with contingency plans.
We decided dinner first, one of our regular por kilo places. Ellick and Samira have both had some health issues down here. Ellick’s stomach has been bothering him, and while I’ve avoided most of the temptation I still occasionally mock him for chiding me about eating the shrimp sold on the beach. And Samira has something going on with the heat and her feet, but I think that’s just the ill-effects from “Poopy Foot”.
Finally we decided that Samira and I would check out what the folks at the hostel were doing, and report back to Ellick while he lounged for a bit. We’d go find this party after all. The hostel is always fun, people are always social, everyone is hanging out trying to get something started. Tonight was similar, but it so happened to be over-run with Aussies, the English and of course us folks from the Good Ole’ US. All of the Latin Americans had left already because everything was too damn expensive during Carnaval.
Ok, I’ll admit it. Those of you reading between the lines have probably already figured this out. I’ve decided I prefer my Latin American friends to the “westerners” I’ve met. Simply, they’re more fun and they’re better people. Not everyone obviously, people are still people, but there is something about this whole continent where everyone seems to enjoy themselves, no matter what other problems they got going on. I’m sorry folks from the US, I’ve just changed as a person. I’ve found someone else who matches my personality better. I hope we can still be friends. You see it’s not you guys, it’s me really.
Well at the hostel we ran into Karin and Flaco, the Argentineans, and my last two friends South American friends left in Brazil. They had just come back from their trip to Ihla Grande. It was beautiful they told me, you have to go! The water is perfectly clear! But unfortunately for them, it turned out that the hostel had no space left. Actually no one in the city had any space left. They just needed a place to crash for the night until their flight tomorrow. “Well come over to our place” I invited them, “we got two empty sofas you can sleep on and it sure beats the beach.”
I was a little concerned that Samira and Ellick wouldn’t be too hot about this idea. But they were very cool. Flaco only speak a little English (mostly lyrics to Doors and Rolling Stones songs, with some Bob Marley thrown in for good measure). Karin’s English is OK, but she also speaks French. But Ellick speaks some Spanish, and Samira some French. Somehow we all managed to get along, I got to play translator which was fun. We just sat back and took it easy, ate, drank and shared what we had. Headed to the beach and talked, drank some more. I felt like our plan had worked out perfectly, even though this event wasn’t on any of our schedules.
There are two types of people in the world. Those that need to know when and where the party starts, and those that don’t worry about it because the party is always where they are. Actually there are more kinds than that, and I know that because I’m not either one. But maybe those are the two extremes on the spectrum, and I’m starting to gravitate more and more towards the one end.
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