Friday, July 25
Jeff and I at the Parrot's Perch at the British Embassy.
Homage to Alessandra
OK, so I screwed up big. Alessandra let me borrow her Chiclete com Banana (translation: Gum with Banana) baseball cap to wear in the pool during water aerobics (to protect my fair skin from the harsh UV rays of the sun). For those of you who are unaware, Chiclete com Banana is a band from Bahia that has existed in one form or another for over 20 years. What kind of music do they play? I don't know, it's just Brazilian party music, but that's besides the point. I'm writing about Alessandra and how I let her down. The list of things that I have lost in Brazil keeps growing: my Mickey and Minnie in Vietnam Towel, my camera, my innocence, and now Alessandra's Chiclete com Banana hat. What a drag. It had sentimental value to her and it seemed to disappear into thin air. I don't know how it happens, but things get slippery here in Brazil and it's hard to hold on sometimes. Anyway, I feel bad about that. However, Alessandra, as a reward for being awesome, has just been accepted to a very competitive training program in Washington, DC for Foreign Service Nationals (locals who work at US embassies around the world). So, I guess that makes up for the lost hat...I hope. Either way, she'll be in DC in September and I'll get her a Cheap Trick hat to pay her back.
You know what sucks? Towing. I just thought I'd throw that in this morning. Whoever came up with the idea of towing someone's car deserves a swift kick in the shin(s).
Jeff and I went to the British Embassy's happy hour last night, another chance to mingle with the expatriate crowd here in Brasilia. There's almost nothing worth mentioning other than my new friendship with a dude from India whose name I forget. I made a point of remembering it, but it kept leaving me. Kumar? Nope... Bartok? Nah... Bahrat? Nein... Oh well, he was a cool guy, drinking scotch, talking about cricket, the usual. I asked him about India and what the weather was like in his native Northern India. He said the snow piles up as high as he stands! Well! Isn't it odd how I never think of India as being a cold place? I guess I've always known that Kashmir is cold, but who lives there? Anyway, I told him that India should have a permanent seat on the UN Security Council and he shook my hand. It was great; I felt like a real diplomat. Other than that, I threw some darts, met some ladies, did the usual mingle thing, but Jeff had to get up early today and we left before it got too late.
Music listened to while writing: The Beta Band's Hot Shots II
Thursday, July 24
The Women's and Men's Bathroom Signs in the Embassy, respectively.
I had the pleasure on Tuesday night of going CD shopping with Ivan. He had a gift certificate for a CD and was itchin' to cash it in. We browsed the store and he pointed out that they had some Pixies CD's, as he knows that I love the Pixies. They had a CD that combined the Pixies' first EP, Come on Pilgrim, with their first LP, Surfer Rosa, and I recommended it as a good solid introduction to the group. I'm always a bit weary about recommending the Pixies to people because it's hard to tell if anybody will like them. I've been a huge fan ever since I got their last album, Trompe le Monde, when I was in 8th grade, but I still recognize that they are a weird and abrasive band. Anyhow, Ivan looked around, but decided to buy Surfer Rosa because he seems to think that I have good taste in music. Hmm. Anyway, my heart filled with joy. There are few things as wonderful as sharing something that you love with someone that you care about. He already has some favorite songs on the album and it's apparent that the seed has been planted in his heart. I look forward to finding out if it will grow into a full love of the Pixies. I hope it will, because if the Pixies bring as much joy into Ivan's life as they have into mine, he will be a happy man.
Speaking of encouraging people to try new things. Last night, Alessandra, Jeff, Sara and I went to see Spirited Away. It's a Japanese animation movie and...well, before you ask me why we went to see it, go take a gander at these reviews at Metacritic (a great resource, by the way). I was impressed by the almost unanimous praise that the film had received, and I'm an open minded guy. I'm not racist or cartoonist, and I'm willing to go see a Japanese cartoon film with an open mind. My companions were much more skeptical, and that's fine, but I have to admit that I felt kind of bad for dragging them out to see the movie. Make no mistake, the movie blew me away. I've never seen anything like it at all. I've never seen anything more imaginitive or visually interesting. However, the movie is so trippy and bizarre that I do not feel like I'm capable of saying whether it was 'good' or not. It's just bizarre. One nice thing is that I have one less excuse to ever experiment with drugs, I can go see this movie instead and go on a non-toxic trip. Another plus was that it was dubbed over in Portuguese and I was able to understand pretty much everything. It was great practice.
Music listened to while writing: South's From Here On In
Wednesday, July 23
Supreme Justice Tribunal.
Once again, a normal day at work. Jeff hung out with Ivan and I after work and we all had a good time watching this news clip and then playing with this internet gem. I recommend that everyone do the same.
So the picture above. It's a bit sterile, but so is Brasilia. Clear skies, sharp light, weird concrete buildings...you get the idea.
I had a little conversation with one of my colleagues here about my musings on the mall that I posted yesterday. He quoted Lonely Planet as saying that Brazilians measure their progress in the same way that Americans do: by counting how many shopping malls they have access to. It's true, just as it's true in Venezuela and Chile. I imagine that it's true in most of the developing world because the arrival of malls, franchises, and famous brand names gives people the feeling that they are finally interacting with the rest of the world, the world that they see in movies and on TV. This is global culture. I defend it as a real culture and I remember defending it way back in High School. I understand people who claim that we don't have a 'culture' because it's very difficult to recognize one's own culture; it's like trying to see the air that you breathe (played out yet effective simile). Nonetheless, our culture is fascinating. Take, for instance, what I usually wear to work: leather shoes, dark socks, trousers, belt, shirt, tie, and cologne. All of these things merit study. I have some wrinkle free shirts. Someday, some lame anthropology student like a futuristic Matt Lowe is going to write a paper on how the shirts were specially manufactured and treated so that they would maintain the creases and smoothness that the 21st century demanded. They might also note that it's a Brooks Brothers shirt and that their shirts are generally cut large for the more portly American businessman. By the way, feel free to visit their website and purchase ties for me. Speaking of which, I'm sure that the tie has been the subject of many essays already. What a weird convention! Anyway, I could go on forever: why are men's colognes so citrusy? why blue canvas jeans? why the Reebok pump? why suspenders? who invented the shirt pocket, and why is it on the left side of the shirt (I'm left handed, I should be able to get shirts with the pocket on the right side)? Blah blah blah. I love our culture, it's rich, it's full and it's TOTALLY CRAZY. It'll provide fodder for anthropologists for generations to come. Not that it doesn't provide enough material to publish countless fashion magazines already. Plus, globalization has added and will continue to add to its tapestry. Mark my words, Kimonos are going to be the HOTT NEW THING in 2004.
So there, I don't apologize, but I do sympathize. The conversation with my colleague did lead us to address the casualties of globalization. Other authentic forms of expression and community are lost. Most people want health care, cell phones, fashionable clothes, TV, and the convenience of cars. People no longer have reasons to dance/fight capoeira in Salvador (Brazil's first capital) or put on water puppet shows in Hanoi. Instead, these arts that people invented because they had to entertain themselves are turned into commodities for tourists. The authenticity and sincerity behind them is diminished. They are performed in celebration of their culture, but they have become like museum pieces, like preserved pottery that used to store a family's food but is now only looked at. Anyway, that's sad. There are places on the planet that are relatively untouched by globalization, but tourists are rapidly seeking them out in search of that always-waning 'authentic' culture. I still think our own global culture is pretty amazing, but I admit, it's hard to appreciate.
Music listened to while writing: ...Trail of Dead's Madonna
Tuesday, July 22
My room: Sunday afternoon.
Work, research, water aerobics, the usual. I'll post the details of my handgun control research once I'm through with it. Hopefully by tomorrow. Anyway, work was normal. Yesterday was Jeff's birthday and Ivan, Alessandra, Geoff, and a girl named Sara and I went out after work to celebrate. We got drinks at a "German" restaurant in a little lakeside area called Pontao. It's a beautiful place, right on the lake, handsomely landscaped with a nice breeze. We sat, talked, debated, whatever. Geoff had a date and Alessandra had to celebrate her anniversary with her boyfriend. Ivan, Jeff, Sara and I went to an undisclosed location to get birthday burgers. See if you can guess where. Sara tipped the servers off to the fact that it was Jeff's birthday, and we were treated to a red and white-striped, goofy-hatted, cacophonous birthday embarrassment ceremony before we got our check. Sadly, I enjoyed it, as Jeff obeyed their commands and stood up on a chair and danced for the restaurant. Ha!
So that was last night. I meant to write a little more about the mall that I went to on Saturday. It merits a physical description, but it'd be too boring. I'll just say that it wasn't a modern mall. It obviously wasn't planned to move shoppers around in a steady flow that leads to as many stores as possible. Instead, stores were constantly tucked around corners and difficult to find. I could never tell where I was. What I wanted to write about was a family that I saw there. The young dark-skinned father was wearing a turquoise shirt, tucked into his pants, the top two buttons opened. I don't remember what the mother and young daughters were wearing, but they were dressed up. My point is that they were looking as sharp as they could. I know that family and I know their style because they reminded me of the families that I knew when I was a missionary in Venezuela. I spent a lot of time in the slums in Venezuela because those were the only places that people would talk to us. It was difficult, if not impossible to find stable or intact families in the slums. Marriages were rarely upheld and divorces were nearly impossible to come by. Instead, people would move in with each other, leave each other, get bored and fool around with their neighbors, et cetera. Alcohol was a plague, violence was a scourge, and gossip dictated the law. It's a tough place to raise a family and I was impressed to see a slum family together out at the mall.
I read an article a few weeks ago about a program being implemented in the slums surrounding Brasilia that pays families to send their children to school. Each child, up to three children, brings the equivalent of $5 into the home for attending classes for a month. The directors of the program sought a way to dole out the money so that the families wouldn't have to travel too far to get it. However, they soon found that the mothers of the children were eager to dress up and make the long trip to the bank for their $5-15 each month. Why? Because it makes them feel like a legitimate part of society. Isn't that amazing? I think so. Some people are hesitant to admit it, but I believe that we need to accept the fact that our society's rituals and rites are entirely woven into the economy. Either you participate in the formal economy, or you remain on the outside, in the black market. We participate in our communities by contributing to the GDP. Obviously, we don't think about it that way, but I couldn't help but think about what an important trip that family in the mall had taken on Saturday afternoon. They're lucky if they could leave the mall having bought much, but the opportunity to browse with their fellow citizens was probably the main reason for their visit. Contrary to popular belief, Brazilians don't get together and dance samba in their free time. It's all about SHOPPING!
Music listened to while writing: DJ Shadow's The Private Press
Sunday, July 20
Congress.
It's been a good weekend. Friday night kicked off with a night at the Marine House for happy hour. The Marines grilled burgers and dogs, tended the bar, and sponsored a small 'name that tune' competition. They do this sort of thing fairly regularly and I've been meaning to go, but something always managed to interfere. It was nice, a good chance to meet some more people from the embassy in a more informal setting. But as many of my readers already know, nice doesn't cut it for me. I need awesome. So here's where it got awesome: CRUD. Crud is, much like the hash, a game enjoyed by expatriates. My research on the internet indicates that the game originated in Canada, and considering that my Canadian team captain throughout the evening was beyond passionate about the game, I imagine that the internet is right in this instance. The rules can be found here, because I'm not ready to try to explain them. Basically, a bunch of people divide into teams and run around a pool table trying to throw the cue ball at the 8 ball in order to keep it from stopping. Obviously, it's more complicated than that, but if getting drunk and playing a bastardized version of pool with your hands sounds interesting, you should check out the rules. It was sufficiently awesome, so much so that I won the last game for my team by receiving a mis-pitched cue ball in the groin. Yeah, Ivan got excited and accidentally launched the ball off the table. Fortunately, it struck me just a few inches left of my 'glory.'
After all that excitement, we watched Old School at my place (ahem, Rosa's place).
I got up kind of early on Saturday to help Ivan and his friend Alex (he's the housekeeper's son) take the computer to get upgraded. It's too frustrating to type, but the computer didn't get upgraded, and it took a bit of a fight with the salesperson to even get that. Brazilian customer service is bewildering. The computer guy wanted us to leave the computer at the store until Monday so that their technician would be able to look at it and tell us what needed to be done when we get it on Monday. The only thing the computer needs is some more RAM, we knew what needed to be done, and we didn't need to leave it for the entire weekend in order to allow the technician five minutes to look at it when he got around to it. Blah blah blah, the guy finally agreed that we would be able to take it back and bring it in at our convenience when a technician would be available. Sorry about that, I don't like to whine, but it's not uncommon to have to fight with all sorts of customer service folks down here.
Ivan and I got our heads shaved after we got some fancy crustless sandwiches for lunch. The lovely Tish Simmons is a fellow embassy worker, Mormon, and good friend of Ivan and Rosa. She's also a hairstyling whiz. Ivan and I took turns donning the haircut apron in Tish's kitchen as Alex watched her shear our heads. I don't have the energy to write all of this, but it was another nice moment in time: a cool kitchen on a hot day, the sound of the clippers, Tish's 8 year old son trying to get our attention, nothing else to do, a haircut. She asked us if we wanted to watch Crossroads with her. We respectfully declined; I had to go shopping that afternoon.
Alessandra came over in the afternoon and we went shopping. I'm very happy to say that I scored some great Levi's. I learned that Levi's has their own factory here in Brazil and that they have their own unique style of making jeans. I like their style and I got me some Brazilian cut Levi's. So there you go, in case you didn't know, Levi's are different all over the world. Coke also varies around the world, as different countries use different water, and might use sugar instead of corn syrup if it's not available. Honestly, these are the reasons I travel: to try the different Cokes and Levi's. Oh yeah, hot dogs too.
After getting the jeans (and a sweet polyester tie for $8), we picked up Jeff and went to another mall where I tried on this sweater. The picture says it all doesn't it? I didn't get the sweater, but I scored some more inexpensive 'high fashion' items and we went home for an evening of Chinese food and Waiting for Guffman. I always worry when I introduce anyone to the genius of Waiting for Guffman because it's such an oddly humorous movie. Alessandra and Jeff seemed to enjoy it enough, but it's a movie that sets in with time, they might like it more later. However, the other challenge of the movie is that it is extremely American, and the "Dairy Queen, local travel agent" humor is most likely lost on anybody who hasn't experienced America for most of his or her life.
Church was long this morning. The only thing that made it go by fast enough was Tate's (Tish's son, remember?) willingness to share his Scooby Doo coloring book with me. I hear that to be a languages expert for the military one has to take a comprehension test in which the candidate is made to translate something spoken over static or a faulty telephone line. I honed my skills today at church. I got to practice listening to Portuguese speakers over a din of toy car-drivin', judo-practicin', hootin' & hollerin' Brazilian kids. It was...awesome, but it wore me out. Ivan had just started watching American History X before I got home. I heated up some leftovers and watched it with him. It was a good movie, but it wasn't great. Besides the shocking scenes, it threw in a few slow motion, overly dramatic, faux-arsty shots too many. It's not, however, a must see. I think there are better movies to teach us that hate crimes are bad.
I meant to take a nap, but I ended up reading The Count of Monte Cristo instead. The dang book won't let me sleep. After a few chapters, Ivan and I went kayaking. Ivan, not having been properly introduced to the physics of a kayak (my bad), rolled into the water after about a minute out in the lake. We went back to shore, drained the boat and went back out. The sun was low, but it was bright and blinding. I tanned (burned?) the left side of my body as we paddled to a little restaurant/bar on the side of the lake. As we approached, a kid on a wave runner came flying at me and sprayed me a little bit. As I noticed him speeding towards me, I gave him the universal arms up shoulder shrug "what the ____ are you doing?" gesture. I guess I fueled his jackassery because he circled, came back, and buzzed me again, and again, and again. On his third pass, I upgraded my hand gesture. We got to the shore and I went up to the restaurant to get a little something to eat. The kid also came back and went to sit with his family. The poor guy was only 13 years old or something, but I had to tell him to chill out. I walked up to the table, watched his stomach sink, and explained that the kayaks belong to the Marines, that it's dangerous to buzz by them so quickly, and that while I was pretty forgiving, the Marines usually aren't. Therefore, take it easy near the kayaks if you're riding a wave runner. His parents kind of laughed and apologized for him, he couldn't seem to breathe. Lil' punk. I guess I don't relate, I remember being reprimanded for doing the same thing a few years back. I was in Lake Powell and I rode by some people too fast and got "talked at." I cut the speed and rode off with the proverbial tail between my legs. I guess I'm really sensitive, but I feel really bad when somebody points out that I'm 'spazzin.' I guess the Brazilian Problem Child 2, doesn't react the same way. Oh well. We paddled back. Now I'm here, typing. Good night.
Music listened to while writing: Lots of stuff, but my favorite were a couple of songs from The Microphones' It Was Hot, We Stayed in the Water