Rio Gringa

machismo

You will notice that I had to censor one of my pictures from our beach outing on Sunday, due to complaints from my roommate whose father does not approve of any photos of his daughter in a bikini appearing in any public forum.

It's ironic because yesterday I had a long talk with my friend about Brazilian machismo, and comparing notes I realized how much worse the situation really is, from jealousy to control to all sorts of things I hadn't thought of.

I'm not sure how related this is, but I noticed today the different use of buns by Carioca women. The preferred hairstyle for young women here is down, straight, and impeccable. A ponytail is ok if you're going to the gym or really in a hurry, but the bun is a different story. You only wear a bun, which is not just any bun but a bun with hairpins, a thick hairnet, and quite often a really fugly hair ornament if:

a. you are a ballerina

b. your school requires all girls to (I saw some schoolgirls today all with the type of bun described above and I thought, my goodness, they tell them how to wear their hair!)

c. your job requires all women to (I often see women in uniforms with this type of bun hairstyle, especially in restaurants)

And last but not least, please watch this video of a macho man giving blood and talking about how easy and painless it is until he loses his cool.

why oh why wednesday

Today I almost had seven heart attacks when several teenagers zoomed past me on the street, either stealing umbrellas or running away with their wares from a very angry competitor. I thought it was a holdup and the people were running out of the bank and I prayed I wouldn't get caught in the crosshairs of a shootout. Thankfully, it was just some umbrella sellers.

I went to the English office to do paperwork today and was talking to an American teacher, and realized how speaking to people who understand 100% of what I say every day is quite nice. Sometimes I can go days without that. And then for lunch, out of sheer desperation and extreme hunger, I ate at Bob's (which apparently, by the way, was started by an American guy here in Brazil--thanks to the reader who gave me that dica!) I guess despite my great wish to be Latina I am fundamentally a big old gringa.

This afternoon Eli's aunt appeared and cleaned our kitchen, and later Eli's whole family came over, because he's sick, and his mom made us dinner, cleaned our refrigerator, and they are just leaving now, four hours later.

Our good news from last night completely fell through. I also told two people before that. See what I mean about jinxing? I guess I was so happy I couldn't help it.

what is with the weather?

Sometimes I feel like weather in Rio isn't real weather, but rather movie weather created by some overly dramatic director. Last night, when Eli and I were walking home, these huge, whistling winds came swirling down from the mountains, as they usually do right before it rains, practically toppling the tops of the palm trees. Then it got chilly, and then all of the sudden the rain came, like someone was pouring it from the sky. It stopped and then started again by morning, and when I left at around 10 it was monsooning, and all of the streets were flooded. Later, I went out around 4 and it was raining even harder than before, except this time I didn't have an umbrella since I was going food shopping and it's awkward, and when I got to the supermarket seven blocks later it looked like I'd jumped into a pool. People stared at me, disgusted. Cariocas don't like getting wet in the rain. When I left the supermarket, it was only drizzling a little, so I breathed a sigh of relief. Then I got to the main street near our house, and when I crossed the twelve feet to the other side it was pouring again. On the other side of the road.

lock out

Today I specifically took a different bag to work so I could go to the beach after. I managed to remember my English materials, cell phone, wallet, chapstick, sunscreen, towel, pen, and book, and somehow managed to forget my keys, which I realized on the bus on the way home.

So after teaching I took the Metro and Metro bus to Ipanema, and I've noticed that lunchtime is like a second rush hour in Rio--public transportation is just packed between 12:30 and 2. I know lots of kids are coming to and from school but adults? Do that many people work shift jobs in the afternoon? It's just weird. Then I had lunch and then walked to Posto 9, where I saw the dessert man. The dessert man makes a whole bunch of insanely delicious desserts which he puts in a cart with a clear cover, and he walks around the neighborhood selling his wares to doormen, juice bar workers, people on cigarette breaks, and whoever else is tempted by his sugary treats. Every city should have a dessert man.

Then I met my photog friend I haven't seen in awhile at the beach and we talked about a lot of things, including visas and jobs and politics and a little of everything and it was really nice! It made me realize part of the reason I haven't made as many friends as I want, nor have I seen the ones I have as much as I'd like, is in large part my fault for not making the effort. On the other hand, for the first time in awhile, I felt normal and reasonable for wanting to come back to Rio if I leave, as opposed to getting a job and getting back to "real life" in the US, since my photog friend is going home but returning shortly, and she said the same thing I feel, that her life has just started to snap into place and she doesn't want to mess that up.

After that, on the bus, I noticed I had no keys, so I went over to my Canadian friend's apartment and hung out with her and her roommates. Again, I realized what an anti-social asshat I've been for so long. What is wrong with me? Then I proceeded to wander aimlessly around the mall for awhile, where I found the Borat book (not really that funny actually) and some really ugly shoes (don't worry Dad, I didn't buy anything), and then Eli came back finally so I could get into the apartment.

I have some very exciting news, but I don't want to share it until everything is finalized and absolutely 100% because I have a nasty habit of jinxing things. Like the weather, for example. The clouds slowly but surely rolled in all day, and a huge rainstorm just hit. Damn you, weather gods.

saudade for RD

The weather in Rio could not be more glorious than it has been for the past few days: clear blue skies, high 70s, an occasional breeze...I'm less jealous of you people up in spring right now.

Anyway, two things that made me miss the DR today:

• a hilarious blog, that makes fun of Stuff White People Like, called Stuff Dominicans Like. So true, and so good.
• Globo has a video on the Rio news page showing a guy on a motorcycle carrying two women and an infant, and a whole accompanying story. The gist of it is saying how illegal and irresponsible it is to carry a baby on a motorcycle, as well as overload a motorcycle with people. In the DR, this is a scene you see all the time, in the cities and in the countryside. Sigh.

a blast from the past

This weekend I was sweatily wandering around Ipanema and I passed the main mass of juice bars, thinking there would be more further down the street. But I couldn't find one to my liking so I wandered and found one of the last ones in Ipanema right before the Leblon border, and I ordered an acerola/orange juice. While I was gratefully sipping away, I realized I was at the very juice bar I went to on my very first visit to Brazil, two years ago, where I had acai for the first time with one of my best friends from college. I didn't speak Portuguese very well at the time, but I was quite pleased with myself for being able to order us drinks, hoping the waiter didn't notice we were gringas.

Then on Saturday, I was idly flipping through channels when I hit Sony and my jaw hit the floor, because Queer Eye for the Straight Guy was at MY high school. I knew the star of the show, a kid who's friends with my ex-boyfriend, half of the kids they showed, all of the teachers and the principal, and even a few of the parents. It was profoundly weird to see my high school and then the kids I knew, while being here, so far away. They not only showed the school but also the prom, which was held at the same place my high school prom was held. When it was over, I felt like Alice when she woke up after her jaunt in Wonderland, or those annoying British kids after they came out of the wardrobe. After suppressing memories of high school for so long, being back there virtually was very odd: I felt a twinge of nostalgia, but it also made me really not want to be there ever again.

Yesterday, when we got to the beach with Eli's family, I didn't recognize where we were until we went for a walk and found the rock that says: DO NOT CLIMB: MILITARY PROPERTY. I remembered it from pictures Eli sent me about two months before I came to Rio to live here. He took a picture of the rock, and also of him and his family against the bumpy skyline of Rio's mountains. When he sent me those pictures, I was so incredibly jealous: not just of Eli being on a paradisaical beach, but of his family, who were lucky enough to be with him, while I was a couple thousand miles away, back when we were doing long-distance. I prayed that time would pass quickly so I would soon be in Rio at Eli's side, and not staring at him through a computer screen.

That was nearly a year ago, and I scarcely recognize that bitter, lonely girl as being me.

my monday

I only had one English class today, and when I left the apartment Eliseu had a fever again, after being miraculously cured for the day yesterday. After the class I went to my favorite veggie lunch place, where I noticed the ceiling for the first time, where they have a chandelier hanging five feet from a disco ball. Hot. I then killed time for two hours, which involved a lot of VEJA, and then I took the bonde to Santa Teresa, which I shared with half tourists, half Cariocas, and three women monks with a digital camera.

When I got to the dance school, I felt that almost-going-to-pull-my-hair-out feeling, when the assistant claimed they "lost" my email to the director that requests information to get them funding and that my class time changed and oh the director is still on vacation. Later, I heard the same assistant gossiping with a student that some of the girls were bullying another girl because she lived in a different favela run by a rival faction. Oyvey.

Luckily, though, my class had better turnout today (ha, ballet pun) and it went very, very, very well. I think they are all kind of terrified by me but at least they respect me and that is a start. I left feeling much better about everything in general.

On the way home I saw not one but two novelas shooting, one in Centro and the other on my street again. There were zillions of people on the shoot on my street, and a huge freaking ball which looked like a white Japanese lantern blown up to the size of a small hot air balloon. I was too tired to oogle.