waiting

not much news....just waiting ... again.

ivo came to me last week and said "let's go to the amazon tomorrow". as always, i exclaimed "yes! with bells on!" i went home and packed, cleaned the house for a new tenant and gave all my food to the guys. now ivo says he doesn~t know if he can go.

i don~t know that it is safe or wise to go to the amazon alone. but i may just do it anyway. it~s an opportunity that i cannot miss.

blah blah blah

so i~m pretty pumped about my new havaianas. my old pair finally broke after two years (not bad for a piece of rubber). my new havaianas are classic. the only colors made in the beginning were black and blue, with white on the top of the sole and the color on the straps and bottom of the sole. i have the blue.

in other news, i must look pretty local by now. on my way to the internet, i was offered a ride by a cutie. i said thanks but didn~t accept, as it has been engrained not to take rides from strangers regardless of how safe it is here in rosa. also, i was approached by an elderly argentinian woman who asked me for directions to the beach. i must look like i know the way. how far i~ve come from day 1.

i have two friends who want to visit in december. one is a brazilian with whom i traveled around brazil 8 years ago. the other is a turkish friend from san francisco. we met in sign language class. we may do some traveling together while he is here but he~s not sure about the duration of his stay.

and for mom anmd dad, my friend rodrigo wants me to tell you that even though i live alone, i am safe. there are 5 friends who live within talking distance of my house and we all take care of each other. he is always looking after me. he carries my things and makes sure i have everything i need. he~s like a big brother.

TB has finally made a civil union with the dog that protects me and my house. she can walk in front of her and the dog doesn~t do anything. this is a milestone! tb is the neighborhood cat and the dogs don~t bother her anymore. it~s like they know she~s mine.

i have memorized the world map. hey, there~s a lot of time and nothing to do when it rains.

i will post some more exciting news once i start my treck to the amazon. more adventures to come!!

The Death Train, etc.

Traveling on the death train to Machu Picchu is becoming less appealing to me. I have been reading peoples' blogs about it and it has been described as a mosquito and cockroach-infested bomb that takes a shoddy rail network through the mountains. Its traincars slam into each other at each stop (of which there are many) waking you up in the middle of the night with a terrifying feeling of derailment. If I were on autopilot for self destruct, I would consider the trip. People say to take the death train for a more "real" expérience, but I have enough reality to deal with. They say the rich love to do things the hard way and the poor prefer to relax and when given the choice, choose the easy way. I think this comes from always having to work. My time in Brazil has not been work in the sense of labor or time spent in an office, but the negotiations and sacrafices made in final moments of frustration tally a heavy sum.

But I have not given up on traveling. Ivo and I are leaving for the Amazon at the end of the week. My death train will have to wait. Bugs, many many bugs and creatures I have yet to meet are calling for me.

p.s. I didn~t take this photo of the death train but see how it~s close to running someone over on the tracks? I haven~t even seen it and it scares me.

I'm on a road trip to Curitiba then Porto Alegre

see you back on Monday

unidentified food

after surviving a hangover that could have killed hercules, i am finally able to get out and use thie internet. but i discover my new internet place is closed for a while for repairs (?) so i decide to go to the grocery store instead. on my way home, i stop at a roadside stand to buy rotisserie chicken, one of my favorite foods in any country. a few middle-aged men are inside drinking beers and eating some appetizers. one man dipped what looked like a piece of sausage into *farofa and handed it to me on a toothpick, asking if i knew what it was. but before he could get the name out in portuguese, i had already shoved it in my mouth, excited to try something new. the piece of inards was not a heart but a liver or perhaps tongue of some animal, probably a chicken, soft, dissolving in my mouth with a gamey flavor. it was probably the worst thing i have taasted since the fish eyeball. it stuck in the corners of my gums and teeth and i couldn~t get the flavor out of my mouth. but what is travel without trying new things?

*farofa- dry manioc flour, much like cornmeal but finely ground. sauteéd with butter and onions and used as a topping for meats and beans.

describing praia do rosa

one of the first questions people ask me as a californian living here is how i arrived in praia do rosa. i wanted to live in a small beach town where the rent is cheap and i would have all the time i need to write, draw and travel. the house i found on the internet, with its Hemmingway-treehouse appeal, invited me here and here i am.

praia do rosa is one of about 15 crescent-shaped beaches located on brazil's southern coast of santa catarina. it is known for its surf and whale watching. what most non-locals don't know is that its dirt roads and lit inns used to be covered so densely with bamboo, vines and brush that a machete was required to navigate through the barely beaten paths. women were sometimes spotted changing into their bathing suits in the haven of the folliage.

from the lush mountain wall that holds rosa in its arms, a vista spreads from southern santa catarina to florianopolis, the larger more chique island city to the north. before the mountain reaches the floor, two lagoons; one salt and one fresh water. behind the mountain is a valley where cattle graze on stickery fields of weeds surrounded by barbed-wire fences and dirt roads where stray dogs are heard barking at each other in bouts of machismo. this is where i live.

there is a bit of a war between locals and tourists. the locals show pride in knowing their way around, and only until you have won their affection will they show you, with more than just a nod, the shortcut to the beach. the local will know where to eat steak, fries, beans and rice (with a side of chili oil and packets of condiments) for only $5USD. they know who is in the water surfing and when, what day the whales will arrive, how many days the rain will stay, and about how many months it will take to pave the roads that have been washed out by that rain. they know who is new in town, who owns what property, where you are from, who is sleeping with who, what your addiction is, how many moles you have, etc...rosa maintains a small town mentality and a laid back beach vibe where everything is said to be done "tomorrow".

but rosa is a seasonal little village and in its winter months during peak season, its stores swell with tourists, on the streets, cars that blare brazilian reggae, hip hop and forró, a kind of polka-sounding music popular with the 16-35 yr. old crowd. the surf shops are open until past dark and restaurants and all night clubs spill with 20-something surfers sharing small glasses of beer. the smell of churrasco (bbq) , freshly baked bread and stray dogs become a mainstay. this growth proves that this small beach village is smarter and more entrepreneurial than it appears. even with the excitement, i am able to find the quiet to do all the writing i want.

i the privacy of my morning walk to the shore from the valley, through town and past horse-drawn carts and all night clubs blaring house music, i breathe in the salty humid air, letting it fill me, then let it go, releasing all judgements. doing this two or three times reminds me that even though i am 8000 miles away, i can still taste the sea air that reminds me of my california roots.

losing faith in good men. just had my heart bruised.

"i have nothing left to say, it's only words. and what i feel won't change"
-ben harper