Leaving with a bang

Of course, there was no doorman when I lugged my bags down stairs and let myself out at 5:50 this morning. There was, however, a hobo on duty.

This guy escorted me the entire way as I walked the one block to the beach to take the bus to the airport.

Now, when I left Belo Horizonte I was similarly trailed by an unbelievably skinny guy only that time he was hoping to hook up with me. As if.

Same situation. I'm emotional and pensive - obviously wanting to be alone with my thoughts - and yet some guy follows me speed talking his life story in an attempt to weasel something from me.

I told the hobo upfront: I HAVE NO MONEY. Yet, he felt that if he periodically placed his hand on my bag as I dragged it, I would then feel that he deserved some money. What I felt was the desire to yell for the police, but it was pretty obvious he just wanted some change and not to steal my suitcase.

In that short block I learned he was actually American, but had lived in Rio since 1985 when he overstayed his visa (i.e. got sucked into the drug culture).

He used to sleep behind Help, the nearby house of prostitution where some of my roommates worked - but the police kicked him out. Next he moved to the beach, but that didn't work since he woke up one day toasted by the sun and getting kicked by a gang of young children. He then moved to a grove of palm trees. That proved too hidden; someone tried to set him on fire one night.

Finally, he triumphantly discovered the lifeguard post. It's perfect. Shaded from the sun, yet more secure as there's someone present 24/7. All he had to do was bury his flip-flops to keep them safe.

During this monologue, the sun was rising behind us on the ocean setting the entire beach, neighborhood, mountains, the whole world on fire with pinks, reds and oranges. The placid ocean waters seemed to be made out of lava they were so bright. It was stunningly beautiful and I would have liked to have some peace to watch it.

At this point, I reiterated that I HAD NO MONEY. Nor was I lying. I abhor exchanging money so I had given away all my reais except for R$5 for the bus. I then found out from the hobo the bus was R$7 (Bruno. You were right. *sigh... I should make it a policy to never doubt you.) I had to use the extra bit of change to scrounge up R$2.

It was going to be close and I knew it.

I literally did not have any money. Zip. Zero. Nada.

Needless to say, he didn't believe me. And he was pissed. I carried your bag! I'm an American! You do have some money!! Not even some goddamn change? Christ, what kind of an asshole are you?? Man, FUCK YOU!!...

and so on.

With that I left Copacabana. It was fitting really.

A angry hobo yelling at me on a gorgeous beach soaked in the warmth of a early morning sun. Oh Brazil... I'm going to miss you.






[Thanks for following my adventures! This is going to be my last post since I am sitting in the airport waiting to return to the US as I write this. However, it was a great experience and as I'm sure next year will bring more adventures I'll let you know when I have a new blog! Thanks again!]

On Friday I went to the Ipanema beach around sunset. I was magically beautiful. The sun slowly descending just to the side of Dois Irmãos, a twin peak mountain that lies at the very end of the strand.

The sun was not a point, but a presence. It fused with the ocean, the mountains, the people, the sand and the very air filling the world with light and energy.

Where they send Brazilians to die

The last census indicated 30% of Copacabana is over 60 years old. Warm climate, lots of pharmacies. Armies of them. Blue hair, no hair, hearing aids, walking canes and a huge sense of entitlement.

They count out the exact change in the supermarket line... in nickels and dimes. They hobble as fast as glaciers down the narrow sidewalk when I need to get somewhere. They stroll down the street in skimpy bathing suits displaying their little sagging old man butts. They complain incessantly about every little thing about my apartment in our building (we've got oldies to the side, above and below... Christ)

I found myself annoyed. I found myself angry. I found myself questioning their worth and contributions to society.

This is how prejudices begin.

Thoroughly disturbed by that realization, I sat down and noted a few things. First, I am not old, but I hope to be so one day. Secondly, being old is not exactly easy from a physical or emotional point of view. Finally, I get mad at people for prejudice against race, religion, gender, etc. SO WHY IS AGE ANY DIFFERENT? It's not.

I'm pursuing a policy of taking a deep breath and aspiring to compassion when, for example, this morning the poor thing shouted at the cashier, "HOW MUCH IS IT?" rummaged in her pocketbook and then shouted again, "HOW MUCH?"

It might have taken 15 minutes for her to check out, but really what does it matter? She is a person with all her hopes, dreams and fears just like me. She might be a little more rickety but who can say what strength and wisdom hides in that frail, hunch-over frame?

Raindrops keep fallin on my head...

Well it happened yesterday. I found myself drinking shitty beer, knee deep in the surf with giant Brazilian rain drops pelting my head. Once in a while I had to scurry back and move my stuff so the advancing tide wouldn't reach my clothes. The roar of the ocean and the chilly water were more relaxing than my people packed, sweltering apartment. The lightening out over the ocean was cool too. It was only a little annoying because super fit guys kept running past me down the beach.

"See, I work out in the rain and I'm pretty... you're just out here because you need drink off your 'Oh my God, I soooo do not belong here episode.'" Assholes.

I'm better now.

I WANT TO BE AT THE BEACH!

On the way back from Sao Paulo, I managed to lose my cell phone. I would like to pretend that I handled this misfortune with dignity and poise.

I did not.

I won't go into details. But it was ugly. I pretty much had a melt down there in the bus terminal. Think Chevy Chase in Christmas Vacation: Clark Griswald flips like David

I have to buy another phone despite my complete poverty. This morning, I set out to accomplish this seemingly simple task so that I could peacefully enjoy this beautiful day on the beach.

First on my list was TIM. It took me exactly one hour to find the store. AN HOUR!

First, the store was on Constante Ramos (it wasn't). Then it was Barão de Ipanema right in front of the school (it wasn't). No, no, no... It's at the corner of Nossa Senhora and Santa Clara! (it wasn't). No, it's at Siqueira Campos and Nossa Senhora, but the store has closed down. Go look on the door for directions to the new location (it did just so happen to be there, and it WAS NOT closed).

It's nearly 40 degrees Celsius outside today. Get your story straight, people.

Okay, so I arrive at the TIM store, finally. I walk in and glance around. The atmosphere is tense. The salespeople are rushing about looking at the floor with drawn faces.

There is a middle aged woman seated at one of the booths. Screaming. That's right. S C R E A M I N G. Poor thing apparently had a problem they weren't finding a solution for. She was grabbing papers. Yelling at the other customers who tried to back away from her discretely. The store clerks were trying to calm her with little success. She had a very high pitched nasal voice that sounded like a finger nails on a chalk board... or many it was just because she was hysterical with rage.

I was so tired and sweaty I just plopped down in a chair and watched the fireworks for a few minutes. Agitated, let me tell ya. I just wish I had my video camera with me. I could have put it one youtube and made T-shirts to sell. "SCREAMING TIM LADY - VOU TE MATAAAAAR!" Shit, I'd make a fortune.

I finally got up to talk to a sales person about my phone to be informed the only phones they had cost at least R$400. Okay, that's bullshit, thanks for your help.

This is another phenomenon. People hear my American accent and immediately think: "rich and stupid. I'm going to screw this guy over." The problem is I'm ACTUALLY poor and stupid. But at least I know more or less what things are supposed to cost. Jerks.

So I go to Vivo where they couldn't help me since their credit card system was broken. I then visited Claro only to be informed that, yes they did have a phone for R$99, but it would cost R$150 to unblock it. More bullshit. I JUST WANT TO BUY A PHONE, PEOPLE!!

I called it quits there since my mouth was dry from dehydration and I had no cash to buy a drink. I'm now going to get a bus to the Botafogo shopping mall and try the larger TIM store there. Hopefully they'll be a little more organized and have a few phones for sale under the R$400 range. I sure hope I make it to the beach today...

edit: I went to the mall and left in under 10 minutes with a cell phone. They even helped me keep my old number. Score.