Are you freaking out of your mind?

I have always loved the beach. Yesterday, it was my birthday and I tried, I really did. I plopped my towl down on the deserted Ipanema beach and tried to appreciate the beauty of the waves and moutains. The huge drops of rain persisted in their insistance that I take the hint and have the good sense to desist. I gave up when the wind started lashing my face with sand. Oh well.

I settled into one of those ubiquitous little beach stands with the plastic table and chairs to read. Suddenly, I was surrounded by six large, loud American men. Four of them, from my own beloved Texas, were buying those crappy knock off soccer jerseys that fall apart the first time you wash them from a street vendor. They then began to complain about how the water made them sick. Right... (the water is absolutely fine and drinkable, I imagine the week of high risk sex, binge drinking and overeating they excitedly told me about had nothing to do with it...)

Despite the inclement weather the two Chicagoans had set up a large Bose iPod player on their table and were chilling to instrumental rock music.

Now. for context.

I wouldn't walk around in Rio with even a watch. When taking pictures, I use a disposable camera or take pains to hid my digital, only whipping it out quickly when I already have the shot planned, then promptly stuffing it back in my pocket. Brazilians shed all jewelry before going out and are careful to keep a low profile. In fact, during my taxi ride earlier that day, the driver and I congenially discussed strategies for best avoiding a mugging. While I emphatically do not share many Brazilians unfair characterization of Rio as a "very dangerous" city, I freely admit only an idiot would ignore its high crime rate.

People recount stories of kidnapping and muggings and murders with pain in their eyes I would never want to experience.

So imagine my absolute shock at seeing a piece of high technology worth multiple thousands of dollars displayed prominently in a public place. I absolutely could not resist the question... ummm? aren't you a little... er... worried about that?

The Chicagoan's response surprised me even more than the stereo. He was deeply offended and irritated with me. He had never had a problem, ever. He had never felt unsafe. And who do I think I am? As if he didn't know how to handle himself... As if he didn't know Rio... He had been coming down there for over a year, staying for long periods of time and he had a friend and he was learning Portuguese with Rosetta stone! He was not some inexperienced tourist and I might as well mind my own business, because he wanted to sit at the beach listing to music. Damn it.

Wow... very taken aback, I simply tried to explain where I was coming from. How every single one of my Brazilian friends (without exception) had been mugged at some point or threatened with a weapon as they tried to quietly go about their business. I told my own stories of close calls with fights and carjackings.

I live here. I have spoken Portuguese fluently for four years and while I too love this city, I have the humility to accept the rules that govern this place and the good senese to heed the advice of the natives who are only concerned with my wealfare. I freely admit I am a foreigner who has much to learn about life in Brazil.

By all means, display your material wealth prominently in the shadow of the one of the largest favelas in Latin America in the city with one of the world's highest violent crime rates.

Oh... and those men were laughing at you two because you were freaked out by that bug. It's called a dona joana and is basically a glorified lady bug. Have a nice stay.

Oak Cliff optical adventures!

I think it was Thursday (all the days are running together lately).

In need of contacts since I curiously misplaced my last leftie, I had arranged a 10:30am appointment at the Optical Clinic off Saner.

Now the Optical Clinic has long been where my family gets its eye exams. The place is only surpassed in age by the tottering old optometrist who apparently resides there. He was the same man who examined my father's eyes as a boy and who now presides over his tiny shop shuffling about, all hunched over, and mumbling the exact same spiel about covering the right now the left and tell me which looks clearer.

When his mind finally goes entirely, he will be asking his Jamaican social worker which line looks clearer. Regardless, he's the cheapest show in town and the result of visiting his moldy clinic with the bright blue plastic folding chairs is vision for approximately one year.

Only not this time.

Upon arrival, I was dismayed to be informed by an obese woman in scrubs that the doctor had not come in. Unsurprising.

Nevertheless, could I reschedule? I was directed to another installation deeper into Oak Cliff at 1:30.

Now, Oak Cliff is the neighborhood of Dallas directly to the north of our South Dallas suburban towns. Throughout my entire childhood, the place loomed large in my imagination. It is a very old, very large neighborhood, which at one time was comfortably affluent - I think about the 50's.

But when I knew it, it was the place for authentic Mexican food, YMCA baseball and deal hunting at the Red Bird Mall. I suppose what fascinated me was the pleasant hills, the ancient beautiful trees, the old houses. The place had such a look of memory and belonging - as if I were walking through a dilapidated, but picturesque version of my dad's adolescence.

Unfortunately, this was because no one had enough money or initiative to update anything. Furthermore, there was a real sinister side of the area of which even as a child I was cognizant. The widespread gang troubles and drug traffic made it the "lock your door, sweetie" area.

Now I'm back, walking up and down a street that looks more like Nogales than Dallas. I was reflecting on how fractured Dallas communities are. Gayborhood, little Mexico, the Hood, Asianland, the various Breadervilles, Yuppyland, Highnose Park... I suppose it's like this all over the U.S., but it still makes me sad the boys on the corner smoking weed regard me as such an interloper. "What the hell is he doing here? Let's stare at him menacingly."

I wandered in and out of shops as I waited. I spoke Spanish to most and was alternately regarded with delight or even more confusion. When 1:30 rolled around, the Optical clinic remained impassively closed. Immensely irritated, I strode across the street to an even shadier dive.

For a couple bucks I finally got my eyes examined by a goofy-shaped spider of a man with tired hair, a rubbery, slack face and spindly arms and legs. His "resting demeanor" was silent and brooding, but when he did talk, his voice, bizarrely affected, slightly patronizing, weirdly effeminate, would attack your consciousness like a bored flight attendant droning on about where to jump when the plane bursts into flames.

As he swayed his entire body about to emphasize his dire warnings of contact over-use, I began to doubt the security of the situation. When he peered at my retinas from half an inch of distance from my face, the only light in the dark, closed room coming from his hand held eye-looker thingy, I had to resist the urge to break into hysterics.

I'm just glad they put jalapeños in my French fries at the restaurant where I ate lunch. It´s the little things that make these ordeals all worth while.


Don't eat here...

BAD FRIDAY!

I had to work a double on Thursday and if I hadn't been able to sleep in, I might have gone on a real rampage.

Well-rested notwithstanding, I stumbled again on the dangers of this town when you have nothing to do and all your friends have left. It is possible to arrive at place of such boredom and loneliness that is demonstratively harmful to your psychological well-being.

Coping mechanisms:

1. The Movies... The theater is really really cheap here, but is ineffective if there's simply nothing good playing.

Two Christmas breaks ago, I think I rented every movie in Hastings. You get reward credit the earlier you return your movie. Sometimes I would make multiple trips in a single day.

I can't afford Netflixx but my friends who have it watch more movies than Roger Ebert.

Danger: you rent something depressing on accident and start feeling there's no goodness in life.

2. "Staying occupied" - read! write! clean! draw! sun tan! workout! JUST DO SOMETHING Problem: eventually, you reach the point of "who are we kidding, seriously?"

3. Drink
Danger: ***

4. Yesterday I tried... embracing every vice I could think of in the hopes that cheap thrills would divert me enough to make it to work.

Obviously, I did absolutely no school work whatsoever.

I was contemplating gorging myself on low quality pizza, but I knew my stomach would later take cruel revenge (probably while at work - there's no stall on the toilet in the men's restroom at O'Bannon's). Besides I needed some stuff, so I decided to see how much merchandise I could shoplift from Walmart.

Now, I am in no way some conscience-lacking, sticky-fingered rebel child out to fuck the man! Poor and bored, I just needed some new sunglasses and headphones. (This is my rationalization)

But it's true! The last time I shoplifted some condoms that "little voice" kept whispering in my head for six months until I returned to pay for them. We'll see this time around... but that was HEB and this is quite possibly the most evil corporation in existence. There was an element of aggression in my crimes.

Anyway, as I pulled up this silly girl was getting arrested for shoplifting... tee hee... I'm glad too, this way my adrenaline really got to pumping! I hope she learns her lesson!! Honestly, kids these days.



Approaching the self-check out (aka Mr. Pleasetakeourshit), I briefly met the gaze of the manager. I wonder if she read it in my eyes... I'm... about... to...

Sneakily, I put the glasses into the bag behind some hand soap... one fluid motion... and charged the bell peppers ($1.98/lbs) as bananas (44¢/lbs)... FREEDOM! I made it out the door!

Elated at all the money I saved, I skipped to my car [parked in the handicapped space... I was going for the gold] leering arrogantly at the police, slouched on the storefront wall, staring aimlessly into space out of their beady. little. eyes. "Want me to steal a donut for you guys?"

I guess it wasn't all gravy... the headphones kind of suck. Wouldn't it be funny if I returned them and got store credit!?

I don't think pursuing a life of debauchery is sustainable over the long term, but as a tourist into the realm of corrupt morals I found it added some cheap thrills to an otherwise mind-numbing day in College Station.