The (Hole) World

This is another quick cheat entry, but I was so taken with this, I had to share it with you all. I'm currently brewing a proper entry as well, so you should get 2 for the price of 1 (BOGOF innit).

I stumbled across this marvellous use of a geeky person's talents while perusing Meriem's quite stupendous photographs of Yemen (there's a link over there on the right hand side of this page if your interested in seeing them). The map below represents the countries I have visited in the world. I found it really interesting, mainly because of how it can accurately represent and wildly misrepresent at the same time. For example, you will note the large swathes of red in the northern hemisphere. This is largely the result of my recent trip to North America, where I genuinely covered a lot of territory and saw many places, but also because I once went to Moscow for 6 days on a work trip and can now claim the whole of Russia! Similarly, my extensive travel in Europe (15 countries I believe) shows up as bugger all, while my Brazilian adventures entitle me to a large swathe of southern hemisphere landmass.



The craziest thing of all is the amount of white still left on the picture. I consider myself to be fairly widely travelled, yet I've only visited 8% of the world's countries (though strangely I've chosen 4 of the 5 largest). I've only visited one country in Africa, Asia & South America and haven't even got close to Australasia, Central America or the Middle East. Looks like the job's gonna have to wait for a while yet!

Have a go and do your own here. I'd be very interested in seeing other people's maps. I'm gonna put a small wager on Niko's being the reddest...

From the Slums to the Super Rich

Considering how constant and absolute time is, I am perplexed as to how deceptive it can be. I’ve been here now for 17 days and at the same time this period feels to have been both an eternity and an instant. How can this be? I’m sure one of you clever people out there has some ideas, so why don’t you write a paper on it and submit it to a scientific journal. I’ll even publish here on the blog if its any good.

Leaving aside matters of quantum physics (always make me think of Dr Sam Beckett, Ziggy, Al and the rest) let me tell you a bit more about life in Rio. In general things have been ticking over nicely. I now feel settled here in my home neighbourhood of Santa Teresa, which is kind of hilltop bohemian retreat from the hustle of downtown Rio. It has a village feel to it and I’m beginning to become known by many of the locals round here (there aren’t too many skinny bearded gringos kicking about town). As you know, the pace of life is somewhere between tortoise and sloth so things can never be described as hectic. However, this last week I have been rather busy with one thing or another and have achieved some successes.

Firstly our Kabula Journeys cultural tourism thing is finally coming together. I can’t remember how much I’ve said about this since I got here, but in a nutshell it didn’t quite go as we’d hoped. Our plans were based on a minimum of 20 people buying in to the trip and we were secretly hoping for 30. Unfortunately, this was a little naïve and we have only ended up with 5 paying customers. This scenario required me to perform some serious reworking of our whole business model (don’t be fooled by the grandiose terminology) but I have succeeded in producing a model that allows us to cover our costs and make a teency bit of profit as well. It took a lot of staring at spreadsheets, but when you’re doing that outside, with shirt off and taking regular dips in the pool, its not so bad. I also managed to arrange some nice accommodation for our guests here in Santa Teresa, which involved me negotiating with a local hotel owner on numerous occasions. Using a combination of Portuguese, English and (for some reason) French, we succeeded in striking a deal, though I have to admit that the switching between languages boggled my mind to the extent that I definitely missed some details. Nonetheless, a successful outcome.

The same day as I sorted our guests accommodation, I also succeeded in negotiating a new place to stay myself for the next few weeks. This to me was a much greater achievement as I handled the final discussions on my own in Portuguese with a lady who was trying ever so slightly to con me while also talking at hyper-speed. Again some details were missed, but I succeeded in obtaining a deal that was agreeable to both parties (one of the conditions was that I couldn’t have any orgies, but I thought I’d let that one go for now). So next week, I’m moving into a massive house in the centre of town, which I have all to myself for 25 days. The décor is a little on the eccentric side, so I’ll have to send some photos soon.

And so to the title of this entry. The last few days have been very interesting as I have been exposed to two very different worlds. The first was a bizarre foray into the world of the super rich. Brian (from Austin who is organising the trip with me) was approached by a friend of a friend who works for an ultra-high-end tour company to see if we could help them organise a trip to Rio during carnival. The initial discussions seemed promising and we positioned ourselves nicely to make a good deal of money from their trip, which was for 12 male executives of a Houston-based company. The tour company had promised their customers the trip of a lifetime to the Rio carnival and had as close to a ‘no expense spared’ budget as can be imagined. Their only problem was that they couldn’t actually arrange all the things they had promised, specifically to get their 12 execs into one of the biggest carnival parades – costumes n’all. This was where we came in. With our contacts, experience and being based here already, we were ideally placed to dig them out of a hole (pardon the pun). We had already begun contemplating the mega-bucks to be made when a few issues started to arise. One look at the website of this tour company (who shall remain nameless due to confidentiality agreements) told me that they could be difficult to deal with. Arrogance immediately sprung to mind, with a heavy emphasis on ‘money can be happiness’. Then we saw the planned itinerary for their trip. Without going into detail it contained ‘22 seat luxury execu-coach’ transport with police escorts, meals in all the fanciest most overpriced restaurants in Rio, all the obvious tourist activities done in VIP style, and (most ridiculously of all) a yacht cruise that promised to include ‘beautiful Brazilian women’ who would be on hand to give out cooling towels, massages and Evian Spritzs (whatever the fook they are). After reading this I was very sceptical about the whole venture, but I decided not to pull out as I knew the money would be very handy for all involved on our side. The idea of spending carnival running around after a load of Texas businessmen, when we already had our own customers to take care of, did not fill me with rapture. Thankfully I did not need to act alone. Brian met the owner of the company and reported back that he had to spend several hours on the receiving end of arrogant, condescending capitalist pig talk. After hearing this we decided to walk away, but not before sending them an email offering our assistance in getting their rich Yanks into the carnival parade (which is practically impossible without connections) for a ludicrously overpriced amount of money. We haven’t heard back.

In an ironic, fateful twist, the very same day that most of the above occurred, I found myself inside one of Brasil’s notorious favela slums. We’re trying to work with one of the local favela communities on some of our capoeira / music projects and so Alex (capoeira teacher) and I had arranged a breakfast meeting with one of the community leaders to discuss some ideas. Despite the early hour of the meeting (8.30am) I was very keen to come along to see for myself a side of Brasil that is often hidden away and veiled in half-truths. Those who have seen the film ‘City of God’ (if you haven’t then see it) will be familiar with the favela setting – they are marginalised colonies of rudimentary dwellings and labyrinthine alleyways, all clinging precariously to hillsides. I had been told a number of times by Alex and others that they are much more friendly than many make them out to be, but there is always a danger of unexpected gunfights breaking out (a result of the incredible proliferation of guns within the favela gangs, and the crude tactics of the local police). It was therefore with a little trepidation that I wandered up the steep slopes to the Morro dos Prazeres favela.

First impressions were of wonderment at the engineering marvel that made possible so many houses existing in such an impossible setting. Considering the gradient of the hill that the favela is built on and the proximity of each building to the next, it really is amazing. The wonderment continued as I took in the view. As they are perched so high on the hillsides, this is a quirky advantage of their settings. Everywhere I looked there were epic, breathtaking panoramics of Rio, taking in all its famous landmarks. We found our way to the meeting spot, passing many locals on the way. Each of them regarding me with their own sense of wonder, but the majority throwing a friendly ‘bom dia’ our way. We met with Cris – an active member of the community and good friend of Alex’s – to discuss how we could involve the community in our projects. The talks (in which I was obviously the minority participant) went very well and we came away with plans for capoeira workshops, music classes and a big show to be held in the favela as part of our carnival trip.

The visit left a big impression on me. It was a very curious experience to venture into a setting so alien to those I’ve encountered before. Here was genuine poverty, slum existence and in many ways, miserable conditions. Yet in the short time I was there, I saw many things that would be envied by other more fortunate communities. There was friendliness and hospitality. There were vibrant signs of culture – from the incredible graffiti emblazoned on the walls, to the kids classes in circus skills and samba drumming that were being delivered by local people for local people. There were signs of a conscientious collective spirit through the health education clinics and IT classes that were again fervently manned and absorbed by the locals. There was a magnificent cultural centre (an old mansion that has been restored thanks to government money) that will house yet more music, capoeira, art and other community projects. And there was compassion. I witnessed one old guy lovingly bring food and water to an old mangy dog and a scatty, lost kitten that were ambling around his doorway. I also saw a young lad mothering and weening the tiniest, most pathetic kitten you will ever see after its mother and siblings had been killed by a pitbull.

OK, none of these things will make headlines or fundamentally change the common perception of the favelas, but it left me feeling privileged to have seen some of the truth behind the myths. There are surely as many bad examples of drugs, guns, STDs, orphans and more for each positive example, but on this day I saw good people making the most of what they have. I would love to take the 12 executives from Houston to our show in the favela to give them a real experience of a lifetime, but I suspect their tour operator might not go for it.

A manha meus amigos.

An Apology

I have today received a number of emails expressing disappointment that I have not been updating my blog as regularly as usual. I hereby humbly apologise for this drop in form and commit to doing a better job in the coming weeks. In truth the lack of activity is only around 57% due to my general state of uber-relaxedness that is induced by the heat and laid back temperament of all those around me. The remaining 40% has been caused by me actually being quite busy with various schemes and required tasks. More to be told of those in due course, but in the meantime, let it be known that I will be firing on all cylinders again soon as I feel that I have almost become fully acclimatized to my new half-speed environment. Have faith.

by the way, the remaining 3% was caused by internet randomness that makes the life of a brasileiro blogger fairly haphazard.

until the next post, why not spend some time educating your linguistic side? i have installed another new 'sidebar feature' (down there on the right somewhere) with some essential portuguese so you can all learn with me. Ta bom nao e?

Into the Roda

Silence. A beautiful moment in the dead of night. A precious rarity amidst the valley of constant sonic reverberation in which I presently reside. I have taken a gamble. The rhythmic ‘click-clacking’ of my ceiling fan stirred me from my slumber at an unknown hour of darkness. My unguided hand fumbled for the power source and with a deft flick, extracted the last breaths of air from my room. This action was a finely balanced decision, with no fan bringing me less aural irritation, but more imposing heat. The additional dimension of mosquitoes attacking my skin, now exposed due to the increased warmth, weighed heavy on my mind, but for a beautifully calm instant I am engrossed in the silence. The first and only period of such calm that I can remember since my arrival. And then…

“Ê galou canto;
Ê coco roco”

The silence is broken. Somewhere in the valley outside the strangled cry of an enthusiastic cockerel cascades into my consciousness. The calm is no more, but no matter how misguided this avian muezzin’s timekeeping, his unmistakeable announcement signals the start of a new day and a new roda for everyone in earshot.

Now you are doubtless a little confused by certain aspects of my prosaic wanderings, so allow me to explain. The cockerel’s interruption in the early hours of this morning set my mind to thinking about capoeira and the roda (game) that is at its heart. The Portuguese reference I dropped in earlier translates to “Yay, the cock crows; yay, coco roco” (which is cock-a-doodle-do in Portuguese) and is from a very commonly sung capoeira verse. Its fits into the very rich metaphorical world that surrounds the roda of capoeira (the truest form of capoeira, where the game is played in a circle of people accompanied by music and singing). At the start of each roda songs are sung to set the tone for the games to follow and to raise the level of energy within the circle (it is commonly felt that the energy from the music drives the energy of the players in their game). The songs are highly metaphorical and reflect the deep philosophy that surrounds capoeira. The lyrics that you hear and sing at the beginning cast the roda as a metaphor for life and the world. Life is a game played within the circle of the earth. The game of capoeira represents the individual’s experiences in life – to succeed one must be aware, nimble, shrewd and humble. The earth, as does the roda, turns constantly bringing with it new challenges and environments that must be faced by the players. The cockerel crowing symbolises the fact that each day is a new challenge – a new game in our lives on this earth.

I guess this sounds a little deep and possibly contrived, but it’s an aspect of capoeira that I’ve understood more since I’ve been here. I was already aware of the basic philosophy that I refer to above, but I never gave it much attention. Like many people who discover and learn capoeira outside Brasil, it does not take on such profound meaning. For us it is a hobby, something fun to do and a way of keeping fit. However, having now been to two rodas since arriving in Rio, I am beginning to understand capoeira on a different level. For many people here capoeira is a way of life. There are literally thousands (possibly even millions) of Brazilians involved with capoeira and it has existed here in one form or another for hundreds of years. Compare this to a country like the UK, where capoeira has really only been around since the 70’s and, despite a recent surge in popularity, remains an underground movement. There are very few mestres (masters) of the art residing in the UK to help capoeira grow beyond the underground. A major reason for this fact, I now believe, is that they all want to be in Brasil, where the capoeira is real. There may be good money to be made from travelling the world giving capoeira workshops and performances, but the yearning for the cradle of capoeira must always be there for Brazilians, tempting them home to the roda. Where once a week a whole community comes together, young and old, men and women, to indulge their passion, to express themselves through music and movement and to have a good time. It is inspiring for me (a wide-eyed young student of capoeira) to watch men in their 50's throw themselves around the roda as though they’re in the prime of their health, with the guile and trickery that reveals the true depth of their experience, taking on all comers regardless of age, gender, colour, nationality, and completing each game with a warm embrace that unmistakeably encapsulates respect, humility and grace.

Its something that I’m definitely proud to be part of right now and something that I hope will help me on my own journey through the game of life.

Flip Flop

Following on from the sentiment of my last post, I thought 'flip flop' nicely sums up my transition from the homely comforts and freezing weather of England to the craziness of red hot Rio.

As you'll notice, I've finally managed to upload some photos. Hopefully many more to come.

Até mais.

Adaptation

Things are generally different over here.

Internet technology is a little on the intermittant side. Its been down here at my house since the day I arrived, hence lack of communication from my side. Its working OK now, but I think the days of whenever/wherever access I got used to in the US are long gone.

I am continually embalming myself with a cocktail of chemical sprays and creams. Alas my body requires assistance to fight off the power of the mighty yellow orb and the hunger of the tiny flying beasts. I am currently amidst a constant running battle with the local mosquitos who are resorting to ever more devious tactics in their quest for my blood. I was caught on the hop initially, but then managed to stay one step ahead of their feeding pattern, which was fairly systematic. Unfortunately, now they've happily devoured my right foot, left elbow and right shoulder, a new scattergun approach has been adopted, leaving me bemused and unable to second guess where the next strike will come. Recent hits have been registered in the right temple, the left shin and in the middle of my right side.

Cash is pretty tough to get hold of as well. A newly installed cash machine right on my doorstep was obviously too good to be true. Doesn't accept any of my cards. So I have to undergo raids on the financial district, location of ATM-central. Unfortunately HSBC chooses to charge me 4 quid every time I use their machine, so I try to limit my visits by taking out a fair wodge. Obviously this makes me a little vulnerable as I cross town on foot, then come back up the hill on the comedy tram, which still runs like it did in 1900 (ie, rammed full and frequent breakdowns).

Sleeping is also difficult given the soundtrack to ''Hideous Cacophany: The Movie" which plays outside my window every night and every morning. This is an epic aural masterpiece that features the Dogs of Rio in a starring role and includes hits like "We All Talk at the Top of Our Voices" and "Beep Beep, Bang Bang" (thats bang as in hammer, not gun in case you were wondering. Between New Years and Carnival is evidently the time to fix everything in the world.).

All this and I haven't even talked about the language barrier yet. I am trying, honestly I am. I'm studying a little every day, trying to make conversation as much as possible and even carrying round a little notebook to write down any new words that throw themselves in my path. The temptation is always there to default back to English, especially as my hosts and a lot of the people I see a lot speak good English, but I am determined on this one. I will succeed!

From all this, you may be thinking that I am not enjoying things here and that the challenges of my new environment are causing me to be negative. Well, this is very much not the case. As evidence to back it up, let me tell you what I did today. I woke up (to dogs and workmen as usual), did some stretching, ate a nice breakfast, caught up with the world on the internet, had a swim, had lunch, had another swim and invented numerous games involving a bouncy ball and two small footballs (I'd forgotten how much mileage this has - being a kid was fookin brilliant), went to the shop and now I'm writing the blog. Tonight I'm going to a big party downtown. I kind of like this lifestyle.

Also, I think someone once said that man's greatest challenge is adapting to change (now I think of it, I might have just made that up, in which case thats the best phrase or saying I've ever made up). Furthermore, my raison d'etre for this part of my life is to challenge myself in new and exciting ways and learn about myself from the experiences. Job's a good'un I reckon. I'm doin a Ronseal.

ps. If, like me, you have plenty of time on your hands, you may like my new feature. If you look down the side below the links, previous posts and story of how I got my name, you will find:
1. some quotations that may make you think a little
2. some music and book recommendations that my just bring a little aesthetic loveliness to your senses
I got so much love to give :)

A Hole New World: Part Dois - Bearded in Brasil

Yes - I is back! (with some grammatical terrorism no less).

I trust you've all been well in my blogging absence? I believe I've seen a good number of you in person and in most cases sent a hug your way or shared a darned good chinwag. I gotta say that I had an absoultely brilliant time back in England (and Jersey) and that really was down to the calibre of the company. You're all magnificent people and its a major wrench to leave you again so soon. However, leave I must and leave I did and now here I am... in Rrrrrrrrio!!

Prepare yourselves for a cliché, but the time between landing in Heathrow from San Francisco and finding myself back in Heathrow again yesterday passed in a flash. I mean I know time flies when you're having fun, but come on - this was like x30 fast forward on Sky Plus (now there's an up to the minute analogy for ya!). My two trips to London, mini-excursion to Jersey, New Year's sojourn to Manchester and lengthy homestay in Liverpool now seem but a blur of fantastic festive fun. I was able to catch up with so many people in so many places and talk about so much stuff that it was only about 3pm yesterday that I finally got me head round the fact that I would be buggering off again for the next 5 months. Never did manage to practice much Portuguese, but that was always going to happen (note to self - must be more disciplined with language learning in 2006).

So after a very pleasant final weekend in London that took in some good city walks and some illicit lesbian action (you'll have to ask someone who knows) off I tootled to Brasil yesterday. A journey that promised to be very tricky to negotiate was eased significantly by the gallant Mr Lunterly who assisted me with my baggage and the noble staff of London Underground who precisely timed the commencement of their latest strike to coincide with my arrival at Heathrow Airport. Well done lads. The flight was also safely negotiated with a minimum of fuss and for the first time ever I managed to sleep for the majority of the time. Now the really tricky bits were about to start.

After arriving about 2 hours late (hey, this is Brasil) I was concerned about the following:
1. Getting through customs due to the length of my stay and the value of items I had to declare to bringing in (ie, camera, laptop etc). Obviously shouldn't have wasted precious worry power on this one. It went something like:
Customs man: [studiously inspects form looking very serious and consults colleague]
Me: [looks calm despite thinking "oh bollocks"]
Customs man: Are you a tourist?
Me: Yes.
Customers man: [casually waves me through]
2. Getting to the bog. Due to aforementioned sleeping and being boxed in by elderly couple, I was busting for numbers 1 & 2 when I got through customs. Safely negotiated with appropriately satisfied murmur.
3. Finding my bags. For some reason I just had a sneaky suspicion that someone on our flight was going to fall foul of the stopover at Sao Paulo. Mine were very late coming onto the magic belt, but come they did. Unlucky for the 2 French teenagers and the Belgian backpacker. Safely negoitated.
4. Getting money. In my smugness at arriving at Heathrow on time, I'd forgotten to withdraw cash to exchange for Brazilian reals in the airport. The last time I came this was the only way to get money in the airport. Thankfully things have been modernised since then and I lcoated an HSBC cashpoint. Successfully negotiated.
5. Getting a taxi. I'd had the foresight to arrange a pickup from the airport, but due to the late arrival and the above pseudo-chenanigans, I was very late. Would the taxi driver have waited around? Again, misplaced worry. This is Brasil where time is a relative concept. Very friendly taxi man bundles me into car and delivers me safely to my accomodation. Even had some good banter (in Portuguese) on the way over.

So there you have it. I feel very pleased with myself for taking myself halfway around the world with minimal hitches. I'm now settling into my new home, which is bloody marvellous if I do say so meself. You can have a look at it on www.vilacasanova.com.br - its as good as it looks in the pictures!

I'm gonna leave it there today as I am feeling mozzie bites and need to seek refuge in some chemical spray (always some downsides see) but hopefully I'll be back tomorrow with more insights from sunny Rio.

Til then my good chums, be good to each other and try to find room for a smile. I guarantee it'll make you feel happy :)