Bom gente. Estarei sem internet para os próximos dias. Então, estou fazendo minha despedida agora.
I will be without Internet for a little while, so I am saying goodbye now.
I cannot live in the present. All these dates and plans swimming around in my head...for the last month I have been obsessed with June 22nd, the day I move out. Now that it's here, I am obsessed with the date I return. Then the date I get to camp. Then the date I'm back in Boston.
And each morning I wake up and think: ok ten more days til then. 15 til then. And it is such all throughout the day.
Fuck!
I just can't wait until AUGUST 11TH when I am SETTLED in ONE PLACE, MY HOME. Gosh! I have a great summer lined up...but I want to be immobile. I am done with traveling for a bit. Let's hope to God once I am there I don't start thinking: ok 3 months til Thanksgiving....
Anyways. Presence is one of my many difficulties right now, that and not being self-destructive in order to deal with my anger.
Well. I hate goodbyes. I really do. But I awr-e-y gone.
O Brasil: Você tinha me tratado muito bem. E às vezes, porque morar aqui nas suas fronteiras pode ser TÃO difícil para um estrangeiro, eu tenho que te agradecer--porque eu nunca aprendia nem crescia mais na minha vida inteira. Obrigado, viu? Saudades já.
Porra! Que emoção.....
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Inspiration
I used to be so pessimistic about the world. People are evil, the world is fucked up, it is never going to change.
I have imperceptibly changed that outlook. Now I feel that people are good and there is a lot of good in the world.
This is perhaps good and bad—in a sense, I have lost touch with the troubles of the world. But also, I think a positive outlook is always, well, positive.
I think it has to do with the way I personally have changed; the ways I feel about myself. I feel good nowadays. Not in how I feel, but what I am.
It is important to recognize, acknowledge, and feel both sides, I think.
The Loves of Others
I used to never read anything that anyone sent me. A link, or an interview, or whatever. Even with music or videos--I wouldn't watch them.
Nowadays I check it all out. Cause what is there better than that? A friend sending you something that they think you might like? Something I might never see otherwise? That is love. Reciprocity. And passing it along.
I always dig it, too.
Things I once said that I know feel differently about:
--I'd prefer misery or bliss over neutrality
--fuck the truth
--people can't change
Life is a fucking trip man.
Let me talk a bit about Festival do São João:
It is a distinct holiday (2 weeks like all holidays in Brazil--gotta love it) celebrated by people in the Northeast. It is based off of Europe's "Midsummer's" but it has a really specific Brazilian vibe going on. It is all about the harvest, and marriage gets thrown in there too (I guess it is a fertility thing). How can I best describe it...Carnaval is this super commercial huge party. São João is very homey. Everyone dresses up as cowboys and does square dances with accordions and eats lots of food made from corn. It is very redneck and lovely.
Anyways. The music is great, the food is great, the vibe is great, and it is happening right now. I am really digging on it.
I saw a *free* Gilberto Gil show last night in the city center--wow! This guy is 70 and he really can still sing dance and play. What a joy to be there. I have never seen anything like it--it would never happen in the States like this, at least nowadays...just a big group of people gathered in the city plaza, and a legend playing forró and reggae and samba...and everyone dancing, singing...and the sky, it opened up, and man, it POURED. And we were so wet and happy.
Contemplating in my last days here, I am happily neither thrilled nor distraught--I am feeling neutral. Looking back at my time here, looking towards the future, and feeling, just, normal, for right now. Which, folks, is really a relief.
One thing is for sure: I have never grown so much in any concentrated period of my whole life. Solitude, independence, and distance. One of the most important things I've learned is that I do not know everything. I am 21 and I don't need to be older. I don't want to be younger. I am happy to be and happy to continue to grow.
Other things I've learned:
--it is safe to trust people that I can trust
--don't trust people I can't trust
--the universe is not conspiring to fuck my life up
--feelings are just feelings
--a 6 is better than a 10 in the long run
--things are just things and when we lose them they might come back and they might not
--we always lose them and that is ok
--nothing lasts and nothing really even is here, but we make it work pretty good
--people have more in them than I give them credit for
--all I need is this mind and body, here
--it is possible to enjoy solitude healthfully without isolating in a way that hurts myself
--God is love
Things I would like to continue to work on:
--trusting people I can trust
--not trusting people I cannot trust
--relinquishing my control and letting things happen as they will
--accepting and really believing that a 6 is better than a 10 in the long run
--lowering my overly high expectations of others
--humility--a great man does not need to know it
--feeling comfortable with selfless generosity (on the giving end)
--self-honesty
--think less
--listen to the lyrics more in music
--as always, and for my whole life, building a closer relationship to the loving God as I understand (it)
--make the list of "things to work on" longer than the list of "things I already know"
My God, my thoughts do not cease to race...
I hope to see some good people back in Lexington (of course, my wonderful family goes without saying). I already know I will in Charlottesville. I hope to meet new people in the latter and not the former.
"I don't think you sit down and write anything that isn't personal in some way. In the end, all your work is a result of your own psychology and experience." --the personally but clearly not actually unlikely Bruce Springsteen
Nowadays I check it all out. Cause what is there better than that? A friend sending you something that they think you might like? Something I might never see otherwise? That is love. Reciprocity. And passing it along.
I always dig it, too.
Things I once said that I know feel differently about:
--I'd prefer misery or bliss over neutrality
--fuck the truth
--people can't change
Life is a fucking trip man.
Let me talk a bit about Festival do São João:
It is a distinct holiday (2 weeks like all holidays in Brazil--gotta love it) celebrated by people in the Northeast. It is based off of Europe's "Midsummer's" but it has a really specific Brazilian vibe going on. It is all about the harvest, and marriage gets thrown in there too (I guess it is a fertility thing). How can I best describe it...Carnaval is this super commercial huge party. São João is very homey. Everyone dresses up as cowboys and does square dances with accordions and eats lots of food made from corn. It is very redneck and lovely.
Anyways. The music is great, the food is great, the vibe is great, and it is happening right now. I am really digging on it.
I saw a *free* Gilberto Gil show last night in the city center--wow! This guy is 70 and he really can still sing dance and play. What a joy to be there. I have never seen anything like it--it would never happen in the States like this, at least nowadays...just a big group of people gathered in the city plaza, and a legend playing forró and reggae and samba...and everyone dancing, singing...and the sky, it opened up, and man, it POURED. And we were so wet and happy.
Contemplating in my last days here, I am happily neither thrilled nor distraught--I am feeling neutral. Looking back at my time here, looking towards the future, and feeling, just, normal, for right now. Which, folks, is really a relief.
One thing is for sure: I have never grown so much in any concentrated period of my whole life. Solitude, independence, and distance. One of the most important things I've learned is that I do not know everything. I am 21 and I don't need to be older. I don't want to be younger. I am happy to be and happy to continue to grow.
Other things I've learned:
--it is safe to trust people that I can trust
--don't trust people I can't trust
--the universe is not conspiring to fuck my life up
--feelings are just feelings
--a 6 is better than a 10 in the long run
--things are just things and when we lose them they might come back and they might not
--we always lose them and that is ok
--nothing lasts and nothing really even is here, but we make it work pretty good
--people have more in them than I give them credit for
--all I need is this mind and body, here
--it is possible to enjoy solitude healthfully without isolating in a way that hurts myself
--God is love
Things I would like to continue to work on:
--trusting people I can trust
--not trusting people I cannot trust
--relinquishing my control and letting things happen as they will
--accepting and really believing that a 6 is better than a 10 in the long run
--lowering my overly high expectations of others
--humility--a great man does not need to know it
--feeling comfortable with selfless generosity (on the giving end)
--self-honesty
--think less
--listen to the lyrics more in music
--as always, and for my whole life, building a closer relationship to the loving God as I understand (it)
--make the list of "things to work on" longer than the list of "things I already know"
My God, my thoughts do not cease to race...
I hope to see some good people back in Lexington (of course, my wonderful family goes without saying). I already know I will in Charlottesville. I hope to meet new people in the latter and not the former.
"I don't think you sit down and write anything that isn't personal in some way. In the end, all your work is a result of your own psychology and experience." --the personally but clearly not actually unlikely Bruce Springsteen
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Anxiety
I am SO BAD at trusting other people to take care of business!
Something needs to get done, and I feel the need to necessarily control it, cause I know I will make sure it gets done.
But always trying to hold onto this control is so stressful.
And sometimes, as hard as I try, I just cannot control a situation. And it is left up to other people. And I lose my shit.
I expect e-mails responded to within 3 hours. I expect everything to be immediately fixed. And when that does not happen, I nag and fret, because I do not trust.
But shit always ends up getting done without a hitch.
Man, I need to chill about this stuff! I think it will make us all happier, yeah? What was it that shaped me to be this way? Probably something in my childhood but not necessarily something with my parents.
One week left here is relieving and sad.
Well, let's go Sox, huh!?
Something needs to get done, and I feel the need to necessarily control it, cause I know I will make sure it gets done.
But always trying to hold onto this control is so stressful.
And sometimes, as hard as I try, I just cannot control a situation. And it is left up to other people. And I lose my shit.
I expect e-mails responded to within 3 hours. I expect everything to be immediately fixed. And when that does not happen, I nag and fret, because I do not trust.
But shit always ends up getting done without a hitch.
Man, I need to chill about this stuff! I think it will make us all happier, yeah? What was it that shaped me to be this way? Probably something in my childhood but not necessarily something with my parents.
One week left here is relieving and sad.
Well, let's go Sox, huh!?
Monday, June 13, 2011
Where I've been and what I am
After a lonely wet dirty bike ride, I arrived home feeling pretty depressed.
I got very nostalgic to be 16 again--I thought how nice that would be. No responsibilities. Just having fun. And being the crazy child I was.
I dug out my old Livejournal--a blog of sorts. I can't believe it is still online--I stopped posting in it in 2006. But there are 2 years worth of almost daily posts. I spent 2 hours and got only 2 months in.
And it is...I can't even explain it. Really, a trip. I have changed so much. But everyone knows that. It is the similarities that are so striking. Saying things like "man I wish I had no responsibilities." And all of those other lifelong universalities that we cannot avoid even with age or sleep.
And it was really goddamn funny.
And you know--those were the funnest times of my life. But not the best. I am a real person now. And even though I feel boring and unfulfilled, I am happy to be who I am today. I would rather be me today than me 5 years ago. I am one thing instead of many things.
And that is pretty cool to say: I am satisfied with who I am in this moment. I look forward to changing tomorrow.
I got very nostalgic to be 16 again--I thought how nice that would be. No responsibilities. Just having fun. And being the crazy child I was.
I dug out my old Livejournal--a blog of sorts. I can't believe it is still online--I stopped posting in it in 2006. But there are 2 years worth of almost daily posts. I spent 2 hours and got only 2 months in.
And it is...I can't even explain it. Really, a trip. I have changed so much. But everyone knows that. It is the similarities that are so striking. Saying things like "man I wish I had no responsibilities." And all of those other lifelong universalities that we cannot avoid even with age or sleep.
And it was really goddamn funny.
And you know--those were the funnest times of my life. But not the best. I am a real person now. And even though I feel boring and unfulfilled, I am happy to be who I am today. I would rather be me today than me 5 years ago. I am one thing instead of many things.
And that is pretty cool to say: I am satisfied with who I am in this moment. I look forward to changing tomorrow.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Self in Amazonia
It has been time enough. My trip to the Amazon changed me forever, I think. Not because I saw animals, or Indians, or a massive majestic river. But because I learned, really, how to be alone.
A goal of the trip (the purpose? I don't know. I guess at the time it was to get out of Salvador and see THE AMAZON. But oh, how that changed, as it will) was to gain a sense of calm by avoiding the anxiety of making plans. Awaking at 4 am on a Friday, I descended my apartment building not knowing how to get to the airport--an expensive cab ride or a potentially dangerous walk to the bus stop. Every upper-class Brazilian I told that I was considering taking the bus at 4 am was struck with horror: "You absolutely CANNOT walk to the bus stop when it is dark! You will be assaulted by a big black thief." The fear in this culture is astounding.
When considering protection, I was instructed wisely to never carry a knife unless I plan to use it. And I never will.
Entering into the street as the sun rose I felt good vibes though. I felt strong and safe. And so I led myselfto be led to the bus stop, and had not a single problem.
Arriving in Manaus,
a thick 100 degree wet heat slushed onto my backpacked shoulders. It was my most joyful moment in that city. I was immediately reminded of Disneyworld. But Manaus itself is...junky. There is nothing pretty about that city, except this building:
and even it has a sort of wistful sadness about it.
First thing after finding my hostel (which was quite nice and had a lot of neat people there) and being accosted by droves of old men trying to sell me outrageously cheap excursions into the jungle that still exceeded my budget and were inconsistent with my anti-tourist intentions was a trip through the city down to the docks. I guess we can give the port some credit here--always bustling, and there is something so sublimely lovely about nautical affairs.
I figured I would buy my passage for the next city I would go to--it didn't matter where, it just had to be downriver (I had a flight out of Belem, about 1000 km east, 10 days later--and the river is the only way to get there). But there were so many vendors...so many companies...so many schedules...so many destinations....so many prices....and I lost it. I went into panic mode. WHICH ONE SHOULD I DO? I practically immediately lost the spirit of my trip. So much so to the point where a guy trying to sell me a ticket walked away and told me he refused, even after I was waving my money at him. So I finally just made my choice. Santarem the next morning at noon. And did my anxiety immediately lift? No. I still expect to be able to change my disposition naturally with the expedience of smoking a joint. But--my more patiently awaited and eventual serenity is deep and rewarding. And I'll take that.
Even after a 10 dollar bowl of (self-serve, which kills me) of 10 flavors of ice cream along with 10 toppings, I still wasn't feeling better. So I went to my hostel and slept.
Manaus changed at night. And the positivity returned. Well, I changed. Traveling alone is so valuable. Preferable over traveling with friends. You call the shots. You sit with yourself. You meet other people. You converse in all the languages you know. Many times I longed for a woman, one I loved deeply. And that would have been wonderful at those times. But not what I had--just me--who was wonderful.
After dancing a little samba and receiving the usual rounds of disgusted looks at every dance club I have ever been to in Brazil, I figured I would take a short cut home. I walked...and walked...my brilliant sense of direction guides me only until the streets start to twist and turn. And it was there, in the intestines of the western Amazon, that I ran into an angel, in an unlikely manifestation (but what is a likely form for an angel to take?): a garbage man (just as likely as any I suppose). He understood my language, the language of a traveler. And he scooped me from the dangerous side of town right back into the bustle of the main drag, not to mention he adorned me with a story or two and some good conversation on the way. Oh, by the way, yes, we were in his garbage truck picking up trash along the way. It reminded me of my good ol' beekeeping days.
I felt safe, until I noticed the shadow waiting for me on the approaching corner of the vacant sidestreet. I passed and felt the breeze off its movements, and the presence of it following me. A young chap with braces and an untrustworthy smile who very clearly wanted my sex struck up a conversation with me. No matter--I have been here many times before and I generally handle these situations well...well, no, I don't--because I am nice, I like the attention, and I get a kick out of the game, I get in too deep before I have to stomp my feet. Warn't gonna make no mistakes this time!
He oh so suavely questioned "Qual e seu curso?" meaning "What do you study?" Well, it sounds awfully close to "Quanto voce custa?" (How much do you cost?) on the dark streets of Manaus early in the morning, and I oh so very bumbling declared, "Nothing!", feeling triumphant at my firmness...for about 2 seconds, until I realized I just offered myself up for free and probably made this young chap's day. I quickly rebutted myself, "Boy, I ain't for sale!" He giggled, and repeated his question. After feeling sheepish (not cause I study English you business school bastards) I quickly overtook his stride and continued on my way.
I awoke with the sweet absence of salt in my nostrils ready to hit the water. I stopped to fortify myself on the way
and proceeding into my vessel to set up my hammock.
Lying there prior to departure eating some delicious salted and grilled river fish I felt content. I was traveling alone on the Amazon! I outlined my goals:
--Leave the anxiety behind
--Be spontaneous and present
--Go with the flow
--Don't think; follow my intuition
--Keep in touch with God
--Release all fear
--Meet friends
--Remain unattached to anything; free to wander
River boat trips are not the romance jungle paradise one (I) might expect, folks. They are the Greyhound buses of the Amazon--seeing that no one has gotten around to building any roads yet (though it would surely give some dificuldade through the forests). Congested with people just looking to get from one place to the next; these people are from there, the Amazon is not romantic to them--it is Route 95. And so, the top level of each boat is a full-blown entertainment center, complete with bar, live DJ, lights, and miserably hideous ear-piercing constant pop Forro music--think Barry Manilow, but fast, and with an accordion:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Sk3M-oNFko&feature=related
and LOUD.
So, I decided to be the riverboat passenger. I released expectations and preconceptions.
Oh Lordy--those boats were...surreal. They were so...disrespectful. And I found bliss and comfort amongst my frustrations. I found a corner where the music could not be heard--and oh, that wind! And that river and jungle rushing by! The sun as it moved through the day! The stars at night! The boat was so...comfortable. It was like my home. There were no obligations. Time just passed.
I took 3 trips--1 from Manaus to Santarem (32 hours), one from Santarem to Santana (28 hours) and one from Santana to Belem (24 hours), with days in between them stopping off and living. But I am getting ahead of myself here.
On the boat, you need to find ways to pass the time. I read lots, wrote lots, listened to some music, napped lots in my hammock oasis, just sat silently for hours looking at the river and thinking...and I learned how to de-multitask. My whole life in life is based on multitasking. There are never enough hours in the day. So, if I smoke WHILE I drink my coffee WHILE I pee WHILE I write my dreams down...that is saving at least 7 minutes right there! And then I will have 7 more minutes to check my email as I am eating lunch and getting dressed! On the boat--I learned to get my smokes. Go up to the top deck. Smoke. Come back down. Put my smokes away. Go to the bathroom. Get my journal. Go up to the top deck. Write. Think. Put my journal away. Think. Unthink. Look at the river. Get my smokes. And assim.
The vast magnificence of nature on a boat less than silently traveling through a vein in the jungle full of glancing passengers makes one feel lonely. I did look forward to getting to Santarem. My first boat trip was the most difficult. After that, I was just about ready to live on one.
I was searching for ways to release my resentments--the one concerning litterers (which abounded here) in particular. And it hit me--every time someone litters, there is someone removing litter in another part of this wide wonderful world! It may not be true, but it consoles me. This is one case where I prefer perhaps delusional optimism bordering on ignorance paired with bliss to suffering mumblings of hatred to myself. The resentment about the loud awful music everywhere--how CONSTANT STIMULATION is just as important as farinha on rice and beans is to a Brazilian--yeah, still haven't been able to remove that one. It is fine to listen to music that I think is bad. Most people do not like Phish. But I have...headphones!
A few quick notes: Manauanas are a very distinct race of people. Short, stocky, flat noses, broad faces, beautiful burnt copper skin...and I am simply completely unattracted to them. I looked for beautiful people--to my eyes--and found very few. Also--the farinha there is rocky. It is made from manioca, or cassava--and it is pebbles. They eat it in mounds. And as unappealing as it was to me at first, I found myself crunching away by day 5.
I was relieved to arrive in Santarem and get off the boat. After being mocked and berated by the hoard of cab drivers scurrying like chickens after crumbs to get we weary travelers to a hotel "downtown" when I informed them that I would rather walk (it is kilometers and kilometers! You will be assaulted by a big black man! Of course, quer dizer: "Give me your money gringo!")--and a lovely adventurous walk along the dark river it was!--I settled into a cheap and basic hotel that I let hug and coddle me until the morning, of course, only after I wandered around and got my daily ice cream fix. I ate ice cream every day on this trip until I threw away all my money--foreshadowing!!!
Acai is native to the Amazon. I was extremely excited to caress the roots of my favorite food. It is good...but they eat it pure, I mean, without the guarana syrup we get it with in Rio, SP, and Salvador..not even with sugar, but with...farinha!! I love coffee black. But I don't like acai purple. So that was a bit of a disappointment. Gimme that glucose baby!!!
I met the next morning with poise, contentment, power, and calm. I had my lack of plans all planned out: first get my boat ticket to the next town, then see if I can rent a car and drive it into the jungle for a few days, and if not, head down to Alter do Chao, a tourist megaspot in the summer but a small hip river community in the winter (it is winter now) with white sand beaches. Haha, I know, right? In the Amazon.
And then crisis hit.
The first little moco I asked informed me that the next boat to Belem left Friday and arrived Sunday. My flight was Saturday night. And I absolutely did not want to spend 5 days in Santarem--again, junky:
But that can't be true, little man! Everyone in Manaus said boats left from Santarem to Belem everyday! Well, let's hire a mototaxi and head down to the docks to find out for sure. And yes--I was fahcked. There was a boat leaving in 2 hours for Macapa, then from there to Belem--but that meant I would be paying 4 times as much as I planned and would be on a boat 4 days straight, missing everything I wanted on the way. Nao da. Faaahhhhhccccckkkkk. I have been misinformed so many times in this country that I unfortunately cannot trust Brazilians when they tell me any kind of important information about times or schedules or locations. I ask at least 3 people, and I generally get 3 different answers--and so I just go to wherever I need to go and see for myself. This is why no one has plans here. But I will firmly stand by this comment, always and forever: here, nothing is ever easy, but it always gets done! Things seem to cosmically align and work out, without fail.
(Another side note on trust: I have been harassed so many times on the streets by people asking me for money or cigarettes or drugs, and been told so many stories about thieves and rapists, that I simply cannot trust anyone coming up to me in the street. He may be asking me for the time--but I avoid him. Generally him, yes. I won't even look at him. Maybe they are asking me for food which I am happy to give/buy. But I ignore. And I absolutely deplore this. I am a trained animal though. And I do not know how to break the cycle. Take a risk, I suppose. Today, I was sitting on the street--which is a clear sign of vagabondism to any Bahian with money, in my neon tank top having a smoke, and I asked a rich man for the time. He walked by me without even looking, cause he thought I was homeless. I know I generalize too. I am doing it right here. But class/race/homosexuality have extremely interesting dynamics here. I was talking to a Bahian friend last night, and he was telling me someone is coming to stay with him in his apartment whom he does not know, and he was very worried because all he knew about this guy was that he was gay. Now, he assured me that he has no problem with "them"--but he could get kicked out of his building if his neighbors and/or the superintendent knew that he was letting a gay guy stay with him. And that clearly was not worth it...he informed me that he was been working with "them" for years, "helping" them, by telling them to hide their sexuality and act "normal." He was doing them a service. Ok--there is a problem with this. Not just with this one guy thinking he is helping gay guys by telling them to act "normally" or being scared he will get kicked out of his apartment if his neighbors know a gay man is staying with him while assuring me all the while that he has no problem with gay people. The problem is with society. He probably doesn't have a problem with gay people. Maybe his fears about his apartment are valid! Maybe it is so difficult being gay here that the only way to live a peaceful life is to hide it! And that, my friends, is sickening. My friend went on to inform me that there are 4 categories that are marks against you in this society: if you are black, gay, poor, or illiterate. He said that if you are any of those things, you basically don't have a chance. Luckily, he is a straight white male (or at least he says he is straight but I have serious doubts about this based off of the times he has lackadaisically grazed my nipples with his fingertips) and he does not need to worry. Luckily, he is educated enough that he has dedicated his life to helping the lesser folks. And as much as I want to slap him, when I use my head, I can't blame him. It is everyone's responsibility. It is a large problem created by the whole of individuals that the individual on both sides of the ship is affected by in different ways. And I am especially jaded right now--but I know we have this in America too. I won't even get into how I am prohibited to leave my bike in front of shopping malls or hang my wet clothes off my balcony because both of these acts give impressions of poverty....)
Oh right, the Amazon. Santarem blues. Got that little shorty mototaxista to take me down to the rental car place--maybe I'll drive to Belem? I was met with laughs, not only because I was unequipped with a license in hand and I expected them to just look me up in the computer: there are no roads, gringo. Fine, well let's go to the airline agency, little man, and check the flights. R$700. Nao da rapaz! A hiliarism: the airlines office served coffee, and unlike every other cup of coffee served in Brazil, it was without sugar. My taxista grabbed a cup, and as we stepped into the street, he took his first sip and immediately threw the cup into the ground really quite violently, screaming "this coffee has no sugar!!" I wanted to say: welcome to my world, bud.
I bid the sweet-toothed motocyclist farewell, plopped down into the street, and began to mourn. What on earth was I to do? I was just about ready to hop the plane to Salvador with my hands in my pocket head held low, shucking my feet as I tried to lift my eyes by assuring myself I gave it the old college try.
I prayed. I prayed for guidance. Go home or spend lots of money (which meant eating less) on a 4 day boat ride. After very little deliberating, I decided "Hell naw I ain't goin' no home! I came here to be on a boat." And you're either on the boat or off the boat. So I went to get on mine.
But this risk, this chance--it rewarded me! Because I am in beautiful Brazil, where shit happens. The kindly moca smiled and recounted to me that I could leave the next day for Santana, a 28 hour ride, spend the night there, then leave the next morning for Belem, a 24 hour ride, and get there on Friday. This meant I'd get my time in Belem, get my time in Alter do Chao, and only spend 2 days on a boat!
Ooooooo my smile was big folks!! And so I trotted on down to the bus to my winter hippie haven (after using the much-needed facilities at a local motorcycle dealership, of course. It has been said that panic loosens the bowels. Though panic was not a part of my morning really--it was more akin to despair. This is a sign that I am getting better).
I figured: when I see the gorgeous white sand beaches, or at least a town center, I'll get off the bus. Never came. There were just lots of high school kids. And then, we began heading back to Santarem! I asked one of my adolescent fellows: did we already leave Alter do Chao? His answer caused me to briskly make my way to the front of the bus, descend to the street, and wave goodbye--finding myself in the middle. of. absolute. nowhere. I was off the bus.
Well, I have feet--use em! I only had to walk for about 5 minutes until drunken old hick Carlos came along in his pickup truck and my outstretched thumb caught his eye. He was not the conversationalist that my garbage hero was, or at least, his brain on one too many beers seemed to inhibit that faculty...but luckily he was a decent drunk driver, and he dropped me safely in the "town center."
It was asleep. I found a sweet little inn--so lovely!--right next to the river (it was no longer the Amazon, which is actually brown--it was the deep blue Tapajos), dropped my stuff (which, I believe I have not yet mentioned, was simply a backpack) leaving the scents of a beckoning homecooked meal but letting the excitement for my dinner ascend in me, and wandered on down to the waterfront, which apparently was exercising a little power over its terrestrial neighbor, earth,
and found my little man, Moses, who carried me across to the beach and jungle on his little dinghy (he had already parted the waters for 3 exiled peoples that day so I told him the boat would do just fine) for a small fee. What a guy. Sweet and charming. Didn't ask me what I studied or how much I cost. Probably didn't like coffee without sugar. Anyways. After warning me about rays, he left me here:
I was alone. The river was quiet. The water was drinkable. I succumbed to and in the pleasure of the moment.
I began to wander. The sole mountain loomed above, and I figured I would climb it.
Its that little nubber off in the distance. Being alone means being yourself--other in-cluded. Nothing was extreme in that moment looking up at that mountain. Everything was subdued and genuine.
The walk reminded me of Cape Cod and Rural Retreat--nature smells the same everywhere.
Moses told me I could rent a kayak back to the other side, but when I arrived, the kayaks were locked up. A bystander informed me that the kayak moco had already left for the day. Porra! Isso e Brasil, I scowled. I replied, "but Moses told me I could take a kayak!" The guy just looked at me and said "what do you want me to do?" Why did I expect him to do anything? Just then, a rowboatman came slurping right up to the shore, picking up a couple to bring them back to the other side. I hopped in and got to observe a romantic boat trip while enjoying a smoke, doing no work, and paying less. Isso e Brasil.
I went swimming with my hotel key in my pocket! Shit! It was one of those old ones too and they weren't gonna have an extra! I sheepishly told the donna of my inn my story...she laughed, handed me a new key, and continued cooking my dinner. Wow. Isso, e Brasil.
Sunset this night was my absolute highlight, perhaps of the whole trip. The scene was so uber serene--everything was beautiful. Every little pixel of my world was completely filled with beauty and calm. I spent hours on that dock. The air was light and delicious and I felt lifted. As the mountain sighed, I smiled smally.
After my daily dosage of ice cream and some delightfully spoiled Brits, I crawled into bed and slipped under into a deep calm sleep. I loved Alter do Chao. Here it is in its phully prolific photogenic pulchritude:
Brazil is an extremely diverse place.
Happiness in solitude--and solitude in happiness. Lonesome too, but real.
The bus from Alter do Chao back to Santarem was identical--that is to say, it was the exact same one that I took there: same trash, same graffiti. Remember I was mentioning constant stimulation and lack of headphones? Well the bus is the most rampant breeding ground for annoyances of this nature. People don't have cell phones to make calls with. They have cell phones to play music in public with. This one had Dire Straits on loop. Hell, I'll take it! I can get high and mighty about the American influence on Brazilian culture. But then when I go to a tiny restaurant like the one I was at last night listening to some out of this world chorinho, I wish that we had some of that, cause we sure could use it.
I was ready to hit the river again, be on the move. I might never get off the boat.
And back on it again to Santana, this time feeling vibrant and wonderful and relieved to be moving across the water again.
My trip from Santarem to Santana was uneventful, aside from a late-night talk with the captain about nothing, but more importantly, meeting other angels: Andre and his droogs, Wagner and Gleydson. The set up camp next to my hammock, and I got great vibes from them from the start. They were traveling salesman sorts, and were on their way to Belem, where they had an apartment waiting.
I obsessively plan the future. I read the back of my cookie package so I can see how many there are and ration them out accordingly at pre-designated eating times. This kind of planning and routine makes me comfortable, happy, and stressed. But it isn't always how life works out. Sometimes I gotta eat 4 cookies instead of 3 because I planned on getting an orange at the fruit stand I always passed but today they were closed. Or maybe I need to take a boat from Santarem to Santana instead of Belem. I think of de Quincey's concept of the present in "Savannah Al-Mar"--this infinitely finite moment that we really cannot grasp. It would take some serious enlightenment to get there but I feel myself getting closer and that is good.
I have to place a value on everything. Is that necessary? Is it good or bad that I place value on everything?
Balance is good...but maybe saying so is just a copout?
I think of alone time here. And I think of alone time there--without the computer.
Cigarette smoking is not just a part of daily life for me. It is that too, but I try to make each cigarette special by setting up the perfect environment to smoke it in. Right song, right view, right everything. I would go up to that rooftop on that boat with my coffee and my music...and then the death chants of Northern Brazil...but, I adapted, and found many perfect cigarettes amongst the accordions and litterers (and I even saw someone pick up trash!). The boat is a floating arcade of light and sound moving through the dark Amazon. I made that ok and enjoyed it. But I think of that place before western contact. In a sense, technology is progress, and in a sense, it is the opposite. Just different.
It hit me: I automatically assume that I am better than everyone else (except when I feel less than everyone else) and that other people don't think. But everyone thinks! No one is better or worse--people just have different priorities. What is shallow and deep? The shallow one is only shallow to the one who thinks they are shallow, entendeu? We are all the same incredible species. I need to give my fellows some more credit here! Instead of making them prove themselves to me, I will let their humanity do that, making me more open to them from the start--a little thing a wise man I know calls "the assumption of good will." I like that. I think it'll make me a happier person. It seems there is no such thing as a truly selfless act. Because giving makes us happier. But I want there to be such thing as true selflessness! Otherwise, what's the point? Another wise man once told me that selfishness entails the preclusion of others, whereas an act of self-gain that also benefits others can still be considered selfless. I think that solves the problem. I suppose it really falls on the intention behind the act, yes?
By an uneventful trip, I meant in all parts except the within. As you can see, to conclude, in sum, solitude makes the mind grow faster. A growing mind feeds the spirit and well you know the rest. I was not anxious to arrive in Santana. I wanted to stay on that boat forever. I was in a good position. People take this boat for transport. I take it for pleasure. I took the road more traveled. But because I did, I think I took the road less traveled--entendeu? It's kinda like how those who are different are conforming and how this is all one thing and all nothing, that one no thing.
After 28 hours of deep sleep and deep sounds (the stars shining, the boat pushing water, birds squawking, and Jerry mourning), we arrived in Santana at night. I bolted to the next boat leaving in the morning for Belem, to set my hammock up there and avoid a hotel while getting a prime spot for my trip the next day. But my angels pulled me back, advising me to stay with them on the other boat
because it will be safer.
I wanted to check out the town, and so I got together with my friends and we set off. I thought we'd be on foot...but of course, for "safety reasons" we had to take a cab, which they gladly paid for, bless them. Am I just brazen or are people here overly cautious? Anyways, Santana is REALLY junky--oh man, just....awful. Bad vibes there. And I wanted to go back to the boat...and I was stranded until the others wanted to go back cause of the taxi thing....and I just told myself to never not be alone again cause I cannot relinquish my control and deal with the programs of others.
But you know, when I finally did get back, I reflected and realized my night was pretty nice. I slept like a baby. It was like a slumber party on that boat.
I awoke at dawn to the sounds of the docks; saddled up the pack, and trucked on over to my next boat. I was back in my old home place, not looking for no job in no town. I had saved money by being without a hotel the previous night, and the boat tickets were cheaper than I thought, so I was in a great position--planning decadent meals once I arrived in Belem, hoping the food would be better than the rest of Brazil (its not). But just then, a round man on the dock caught my eye. He had a table set up and was playing 3 cups and a ball, ya know? Guess where it is guess where it is!!
Now, these guys are obviously hustlers--I learned that 3 years ago at a music festival where I threw away 100 bucks just like that. But something took over me...I was literally possessed by this addict's need to gamble, to win, to have more more more to play to be thrilled to risk it all....
Without thinking, and KNOWING FOR SURE that I knew where that ball was, I pointed to cup 1. The round smiling man said "Put down 50." I sprinted back to the boat, dug out my wallet, and sprinted back to him. My friends tried to stop me, but I didn't even hear them--after the fact, they described me as absolutely crazy, there was a look in my eyes. I threw down 50 on the next round--cause I was SURE I knew were that fucking ball was. Vacant.
That's ok--I'll just put down 50 more and win it back. Vacant.
Oh man, that really sucks--but no worries, I'll just put down 50 more and win it back! Got it! Yes! That was easy, let me keep playing, and I'll win all 100 back, and then some! Put down that 50 baby!
Vacant.
This all happened in the span of 30 seconds. And suddenly--it hit me. I just gambled away 100 reais like a goddamned fool! To a fat little smiling man who I knew (but was not cognizant of) was hustling me! I didn't even look in my wallet to see how much I had. 40 left. Enough for a hotel and transport to the airport. That's it. No food. I was not thinking. I was taken ahold of. I say that I need to make the same mistake twice before I learn.
I slinked back to the boat. I felt sick. I could not believe what I had just done. I didn't even remember it. I literally was a different person--its like The Mask with Jim Carrey. Oh, that was a hard lesson to learn folks. I just felt so miserable. I had no money. I embarrassed myself in front of the whole city. But worse, I embarrassed myself in front of myself. So alone. So dejected.
I went to the roof to pray. And a sliver of light began to shine...hey, wait a minute! I just learned a great life lesson here. I will never gamble what I can't afford to lose ever again! And I will NEVER play that 3 cup and a ball game again! And I will check myself next time I am feeling so greedy--I already had enough money! And money isn't everything, it is practically nothing, really! I will think before I act! And I learned all that in 30 seconds at the expense of just 100 reais! That is a steal! I got a bargain! No one got hurt, its just money, I have an emergency fund in the bank, hell! I got LUCKY! And this knowledge, knowing that all this was meant to be and right and good, made me feel relieved. If only life were always this easy, and cheap!
But not completely. I was anxious about food. I didn't want to use the emergency fund. So I bought 2 packets of ramen and some oranges, all costing 3 reais. And that is what I lived on for the next 48 hours. Dry ramen, oranges, an occasional charity cookie from my friends (Brazilians are so wonderfully generous! Gotta love the communal mentality in comparison with the individual hoarding of America. Again, I generalize. I roughly theorize that difficult conditions cause people to be nicer to each other. It's probably been studied.), and a fried breaded hotdog for a buck. I think, in part, I was punishing myself, which I regret, because it did not feel healthy in any way at all. I am so grateful I don't have to look forward to dry ramen as my main daily meal. My first taste of eating on a budget (along with the documentary I just made on homeless people) caused me to revise my interests in and desires to live on the street for awhile to try it out.
I went back down to the roly poly schnister without my wallet and watched him take more people's money, snickering away like Templeton. I had resolved to never play again. But my heart began to beat real fast, I knew where the ball was, I almost went and got my wallet...but I got such bad vibes from that game and felt relaxed just watching it. I am grateful to have problems, because without problems, I would never grow as a person.
A truly great man neither boasts nor expects praise for his good deeds.
It has been said and I have thought too that the scenery on the boat is monotonous. Just river and jungle. But it is anything but that! Every cell of life brings a new ball to the cup!
A noteworthy tidbit: Santana lies EXACTLY on the equator. I thought that was pretty cool. Just being there. It only occurred to me now that the equator is a special place of equilibrium, like the equinox. My bumbling swindledeedoo brought balance to my life. Copout!
Well! We arrived in Belem. My final destination.
My angels offered to let me crash in their kitchenette if it was cool with the superintendent of the building--vamos la! Unfortunately, we couldn't work it out, so I bid them farewell and found a cheap hotel my guidebook suggested. In the book, it said R$30/night, but they charged me R$40! I was pissed--I almost said "but my guidebook said its only 30 so you need to do 30 for me!" but I realized how ridiculous that sounded...so instead, I trashed my room thinking "ha, these bastards trying to overcharge me are getting theirs! ha ha ha" until I realized I was being a total brat and cleaned everything up.
But Belem. Belem Belem Belem. Hmmm. I had 2 days there, and I figured the first day, I'd check out the city, and the second day, I'd check out the national park to get a taste of the jungle--do some Amazon shit, ya know? I began my trek around town...and it was a dirty city too, but they all are--but it was nice. Saw some churches, some botanical gardens with the GIANT LILLY PADS THAT I CAME TO BRAZIL TO SEE (well not really but I was really excited when I saw them, cause I paid 2 reais to enter, and that's like either 4 packets of ramen or 3 packets of cookies or 2 fried hot dogs or like 6 oranges and so it was money well spent!)...but I was walking everywhere, and I was exhausted, and living off the junk I was living on made me feel really sick and miserable--not just physically, but about the money I gave away, putting me in this situation (does roly poly deserve that money? He outsmarted me, and I am sure he was a poor guy...but does what he does warrant bad karma?). But I forced myself to keep walking cause I had to see the city! I walked into a store and the FIRST THING that clerk said to me was: you need to cut your hair and your beard. Then he repeated himself! I walked out without saying a word or buying a thing. I was so done. Dying to get back home, even to Salvador! Because Salvador has become my home. As uncomfortable as it can be, it was this beacon of solace for me. Oh, I was negative. After hours of agony I finally arrived back in my hotel and collapsed in the heat of my cramped R$40 room. I wish I could have given Belem more of a chance, cause it honestly seemed pretty neat. But the awful space I was in stewed up frustration bordering on hatred for Brazil in me, and I could not help dreaming about being back on US soil.
I decided to gingerly dip into my emergency fund and get 2 popsicles to make me feel better. I only felt worse and passed out with a migraine at 9. But here is Belem in 2D:
The next morning I awoke in a slightly better but still pissy mood. I dreamt that someone was trying to rob me but because I had no money and because I was white, I got stabbed in the throat. Great way to start the day. Warn't no way I was gonna go hiking through no forest! I opted to take a boat to the apparently gorgeous "island haven" (guide book) of Cotijuba, 18 km out of town, and lie on the beach all day. Even better--there were "nature trails and jungle perfect for bird watching" if I got some energy.
Upon arrival I had 2 options: walk to the crappy beach or spend 10 reais to take a mototaxi to the good beach. My situation being as it was, a beach was a beach, so I started walking. Cotijuba was nice--no cars, kinda homey and rustic. But I got to the beach--and there was that awful awful music blasting (ITS EVERYWHERE!). So I walked a bit down the beach. But the next hut was blasting the same type of music but a different song. And it melded with the music from before, so it was this soup of just aural abuse. I walked down the beach at least 2 kilometers, through marsh and branches....and there was hut after hut of extremely loud pop forro everywhere. I was beyond pissed. I was on this beautiful island trying to relax and all I could hear was this SHIT! What is wrong with the sounds of nature??? I almost decided to just head to the airport early and wait there 16 hours (this was the last day of my trip, after all). No, no, just adapt. Be Brazilian. Enjoy it like they do. So I tried.
A goal of the trip (the purpose? I don't know. I guess at the time it was to get out of Salvador and see THE AMAZON. But oh, how that changed, as it will) was to gain a sense of calm by avoiding the anxiety of making plans. Awaking at 4 am on a Friday, I descended my apartment building not knowing how to get to the airport--an expensive cab ride or a potentially dangerous walk to the bus stop. Every upper-class Brazilian I told that I was considering taking the bus at 4 am was struck with horror: "You absolutely CANNOT walk to the bus stop when it is dark! You will be assaulted by a big black thief." The fear in this culture is astounding.
When considering protection, I was instructed wisely to never carry a knife unless I plan to use it. And I never will.
Entering into the street as the sun rose I felt good vibes though. I felt strong and safe. And so I led myselfto be led to the bus stop, and had not a single problem.
Arriving in Manaus,
a thick 100 degree wet heat slushed onto my backpacked shoulders. It was my most joyful moment in that city. I was immediately reminded of Disneyworld. But Manaus itself is...junky. There is nothing pretty about that city, except this building:
and even it has a sort of wistful sadness about it.
First thing after finding my hostel (which was quite nice and had a lot of neat people there) and being accosted by droves of old men trying to sell me outrageously cheap excursions into the jungle that still exceeded my budget and were inconsistent with my anti-tourist intentions was a trip through the city down to the docks. I guess we can give the port some credit here--always bustling, and there is something so sublimely lovely about nautical affairs.
I figured I would buy my passage for the next city I would go to--it didn't matter where, it just had to be downriver (I had a flight out of Belem, about 1000 km east, 10 days later--and the river is the only way to get there). But there were so many vendors...so many companies...so many schedules...so many destinations....so many prices....and I lost it. I went into panic mode. WHICH ONE SHOULD I DO? I practically immediately lost the spirit of my trip. So much so to the point where a guy trying to sell me a ticket walked away and told me he refused, even after I was waving my money at him. So I finally just made my choice. Santarem the next morning at noon. And did my anxiety immediately lift? No. I still expect to be able to change my disposition naturally with the expedience of smoking a joint. But--my more patiently awaited and eventual serenity is deep and rewarding. And I'll take that.
Even after a 10 dollar bowl of (self-serve, which kills me) of 10 flavors of ice cream along with 10 toppings, I still wasn't feeling better. So I went to my hostel and slept.
Manaus changed at night. And the positivity returned. Well, I changed. Traveling alone is so valuable. Preferable over traveling with friends. You call the shots. You sit with yourself. You meet other people. You converse in all the languages you know. Many times I longed for a woman, one I loved deeply. And that would have been wonderful at those times. But not what I had--just me--who was wonderful.
After dancing a little samba and receiving the usual rounds of disgusted looks at every dance club I have ever been to in Brazil, I figured I would take a short cut home. I walked...and walked...my brilliant sense of direction guides me only until the streets start to twist and turn. And it was there, in the intestines of the western Amazon, that I ran into an angel, in an unlikely manifestation (but what is a likely form for an angel to take?): a garbage man (just as likely as any I suppose). He understood my language, the language of a traveler. And he scooped me from the dangerous side of town right back into the bustle of the main drag, not to mention he adorned me with a story or two and some good conversation on the way. Oh, by the way, yes, we were in his garbage truck picking up trash along the way. It reminded me of my good ol' beekeeping days.
I felt safe, until I noticed the shadow waiting for me on the approaching corner of the vacant sidestreet. I passed and felt the breeze off its movements, and the presence of it following me. A young chap with braces and an untrustworthy smile who very clearly wanted my sex struck up a conversation with me. No matter--I have been here many times before and I generally handle these situations well...well, no, I don't--because I am nice, I like the attention, and I get a kick out of the game, I get in too deep before I have to stomp my feet. Warn't gonna make no mistakes this time!
He oh so suavely questioned "Qual e seu curso?" meaning "What do you study?" Well, it sounds awfully close to "Quanto voce custa?" (How much do you cost?) on the dark streets of Manaus early in the morning, and I oh so very bumbling declared, "Nothing!", feeling triumphant at my firmness...for about 2 seconds, until I realized I just offered myself up for free and probably made this young chap's day. I quickly rebutted myself, "Boy, I ain't for sale!" He giggled, and repeated his question. After feeling sheepish (not cause I study English you business school bastards) I quickly overtook his stride and continued on my way.
I awoke with the sweet absence of salt in my nostrils ready to hit the water. I stopped to fortify myself on the way
and proceeding into my vessel to set up my hammock.
Lying there prior to departure eating some delicious salted and grilled river fish I felt content. I was traveling alone on the Amazon! I outlined my goals:
--Leave the anxiety behind
--Be spontaneous and present
--Go with the flow
--Don't think; follow my intuition
--Keep in touch with God
--Release all fear
--Meet friends
--Remain unattached to anything; free to wander
River boat trips are not the romance jungle paradise one (I) might expect, folks. They are the Greyhound buses of the Amazon--seeing that no one has gotten around to building any roads yet (though it would surely give some dificuldade through the forests). Congested with people just looking to get from one place to the next; these people are from there, the Amazon is not romantic to them--it is Route 95. And so, the top level of each boat is a full-blown entertainment center, complete with bar, live DJ, lights, and miserably hideous ear-piercing constant pop Forro music--think Barry Manilow, but fast, and with an accordion:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Sk3M-oNFko&feature=related
and LOUD.
So, I decided to be the riverboat passenger. I released expectations and preconceptions.
Oh Lordy--those boats were...surreal. They were so...disrespectful. And I found bliss and comfort amongst my frustrations. I found a corner where the music could not be heard--and oh, that wind! And that river and jungle rushing by! The sun as it moved through the day! The stars at night! The boat was so...comfortable. It was like my home. There were no obligations. Time just passed.
I took 3 trips--1 from Manaus to Santarem (32 hours), one from Santarem to Santana (28 hours) and one from Santana to Belem (24 hours), with days in between them stopping off and living. But I am getting ahead of myself here.
On the boat, you need to find ways to pass the time. I read lots, wrote lots, listened to some music, napped lots in my hammock oasis, just sat silently for hours looking at the river and thinking...and I learned how to de-multitask. My whole life in life is based on multitasking. There are never enough hours in the day. So, if I smoke WHILE I drink my coffee WHILE I pee WHILE I write my dreams down...that is saving at least 7 minutes right there! And then I will have 7 more minutes to check my email as I am eating lunch and getting dressed! On the boat--I learned to get my smokes. Go up to the top deck. Smoke. Come back down. Put my smokes away. Go to the bathroom. Get my journal. Go up to the top deck. Write. Think. Put my journal away. Think. Unthink. Look at the river. Get my smokes. And assim.
The vast magnificence of nature on a boat less than silently traveling through a vein in the jungle full of glancing passengers makes one feel lonely. I did look forward to getting to Santarem. My first boat trip was the most difficult. After that, I was just about ready to live on one.
I was searching for ways to release my resentments--the one concerning litterers (which abounded here) in particular. And it hit me--every time someone litters, there is someone removing litter in another part of this wide wonderful world! It may not be true, but it consoles me. This is one case where I prefer perhaps delusional optimism bordering on ignorance paired with bliss to suffering mumblings of hatred to myself. The resentment about the loud awful music everywhere--how CONSTANT STIMULATION is just as important as farinha on rice and beans is to a Brazilian--yeah, still haven't been able to remove that one. It is fine to listen to music that I think is bad. Most people do not like Phish. But I have...headphones!
A few quick notes: Manauanas are a very distinct race of people. Short, stocky, flat noses, broad faces, beautiful burnt copper skin...and I am simply completely unattracted to them. I looked for beautiful people--to my eyes--and found very few. Also--the farinha there is rocky. It is made from manioca, or cassava--and it is pebbles. They eat it in mounds. And as unappealing as it was to me at first, I found myself crunching away by day 5.
I was relieved to arrive in Santarem and get off the boat. After being mocked and berated by the hoard of cab drivers scurrying like chickens after crumbs to get we weary travelers to a hotel "downtown" when I informed them that I would rather walk (it is kilometers and kilometers! You will be assaulted by a big black man! Of course, quer dizer: "Give me your money gringo!")--and a lovely adventurous walk along the dark river it was!--I settled into a cheap and basic hotel that I let hug and coddle me until the morning, of course, only after I wandered around and got my daily ice cream fix. I ate ice cream every day on this trip until I threw away all my money--foreshadowing!!!
Acai is native to the Amazon. I was extremely excited to caress the roots of my favorite food. It is good...but they eat it pure, I mean, without the guarana syrup we get it with in Rio, SP, and Salvador..not even with sugar, but with...farinha!! I love coffee black. But I don't like acai purple. So that was a bit of a disappointment. Gimme that glucose baby!!!
I met the next morning with poise, contentment, power, and calm. I had my lack of plans all planned out: first get my boat ticket to the next town, then see if I can rent a car and drive it into the jungle for a few days, and if not, head down to Alter do Chao, a tourist megaspot in the summer but a small hip river community in the winter (it is winter now) with white sand beaches. Haha, I know, right? In the Amazon.
And then crisis hit.
The first little moco I asked informed me that the next boat to Belem left Friday and arrived Sunday. My flight was Saturday night. And I absolutely did not want to spend 5 days in Santarem--again, junky:
But that can't be true, little man! Everyone in Manaus said boats left from Santarem to Belem everyday! Well, let's hire a mototaxi and head down to the docks to find out for sure. And yes--I was fahcked. There was a boat leaving in 2 hours for Macapa, then from there to Belem--but that meant I would be paying 4 times as much as I planned and would be on a boat 4 days straight, missing everything I wanted on the way. Nao da. Faaahhhhhccccckkkkk. I have been misinformed so many times in this country that I unfortunately cannot trust Brazilians when they tell me any kind of important information about times or schedules or locations. I ask at least 3 people, and I generally get 3 different answers--and so I just go to wherever I need to go and see for myself. This is why no one has plans here. But I will firmly stand by this comment, always and forever: here, nothing is ever easy, but it always gets done! Things seem to cosmically align and work out, without fail.
(Another side note on trust: I have been harassed so many times on the streets by people asking me for money or cigarettes or drugs, and been told so many stories about thieves and rapists, that I simply cannot trust anyone coming up to me in the street. He may be asking me for the time--but I avoid him. Generally him, yes. I won't even look at him. Maybe they are asking me for food which I am happy to give/buy. But I ignore. And I absolutely deplore this. I am a trained animal though. And I do not know how to break the cycle. Take a risk, I suppose. Today, I was sitting on the street--which is a clear sign of vagabondism to any Bahian with money, in my neon tank top having a smoke, and I asked a rich man for the time. He walked by me without even looking, cause he thought I was homeless. I know I generalize too. I am doing it right here. But class/race/homosexuality have extremely interesting dynamics here. I was talking to a Bahian friend last night, and he was telling me someone is coming to stay with him in his apartment whom he does not know, and he was very worried because all he knew about this guy was that he was gay. Now, he assured me that he has no problem with "them"--but he could get kicked out of his building if his neighbors and/or the superintendent knew that he was letting a gay guy stay with him. And that clearly was not worth it...he informed me that he was been working with "them" for years, "helping" them, by telling them to hide their sexuality and act "normal." He was doing them a service. Ok--there is a problem with this. Not just with this one guy thinking he is helping gay guys by telling them to act "normally" or being scared he will get kicked out of his apartment if his neighbors know a gay man is staying with him while assuring me all the while that he has no problem with gay people. The problem is with society. He probably doesn't have a problem with gay people. Maybe his fears about his apartment are valid! Maybe it is so difficult being gay here that the only way to live a peaceful life is to hide it! And that, my friends, is sickening. My friend went on to inform me that there are 4 categories that are marks against you in this society: if you are black, gay, poor, or illiterate. He said that if you are any of those things, you basically don't have a chance. Luckily, he is a straight white male (or at least he says he is straight but I have serious doubts about this based off of the times he has lackadaisically grazed my nipples with his fingertips) and he does not need to worry. Luckily, he is educated enough that he has dedicated his life to helping the lesser folks. And as much as I want to slap him, when I use my head, I can't blame him. It is everyone's responsibility. It is a large problem created by the whole of individuals that the individual on both sides of the ship is affected by in different ways. And I am especially jaded right now--but I know we have this in America too. I won't even get into how I am prohibited to leave my bike in front of shopping malls or hang my wet clothes off my balcony because both of these acts give impressions of poverty....)
Oh right, the Amazon. Santarem blues. Got that little shorty mototaxista to take me down to the rental car place--maybe I'll drive to Belem? I was met with laughs, not only because I was unequipped with a license in hand and I expected them to just look me up in the computer: there are no roads, gringo. Fine, well let's go to the airline agency, little man, and check the flights. R$700. Nao da rapaz! A hiliarism: the airlines office served coffee, and unlike every other cup of coffee served in Brazil, it was without sugar. My taxista grabbed a cup, and as we stepped into the street, he took his first sip and immediately threw the cup into the ground really quite violently, screaming "this coffee has no sugar!!" I wanted to say: welcome to my world, bud.
I bid the sweet-toothed motocyclist farewell, plopped down into the street, and began to mourn. What on earth was I to do? I was just about ready to hop the plane to Salvador with my hands in my pocket head held low, shucking my feet as I tried to lift my eyes by assuring myself I gave it the old college try.
I prayed. I prayed for guidance. Go home or spend lots of money (which meant eating less) on a 4 day boat ride. After very little deliberating, I decided "Hell naw I ain't goin' no home! I came here to be on a boat." And you're either on the boat or off the boat. So I went to get on mine.
But this risk, this chance--it rewarded me! Because I am in beautiful Brazil, where shit happens. The kindly moca smiled and recounted to me that I could leave the next day for Santana, a 28 hour ride, spend the night there, then leave the next morning for Belem, a 24 hour ride, and get there on Friday. This meant I'd get my time in Belem, get my time in Alter do Chao, and only spend 2 days on a boat!
Ooooooo my smile was big folks!! And so I trotted on down to the bus to my winter hippie haven (after using the much-needed facilities at a local motorcycle dealership, of course. It has been said that panic loosens the bowels. Though panic was not a part of my morning really--it was more akin to despair. This is a sign that I am getting better).
I figured: when I see the gorgeous white sand beaches, or at least a town center, I'll get off the bus. Never came. There were just lots of high school kids. And then, we began heading back to Santarem! I asked one of my adolescent fellows: did we already leave Alter do Chao? His answer caused me to briskly make my way to the front of the bus, descend to the street, and wave goodbye--finding myself in the middle. of. absolute. nowhere. I was off the bus.
Well, I have feet--use em! I only had to walk for about 5 minutes until drunken old hick Carlos came along in his pickup truck and my outstretched thumb caught his eye. He was not the conversationalist that my garbage hero was, or at least, his brain on one too many beers seemed to inhibit that faculty...but luckily he was a decent drunk driver, and he dropped me safely in the "town center."
It was asleep. I found a sweet little inn--so lovely!--right next to the river (it was no longer the Amazon, which is actually brown--it was the deep blue Tapajos), dropped my stuff (which, I believe I have not yet mentioned, was simply a backpack) leaving the scents of a beckoning homecooked meal but letting the excitement for my dinner ascend in me, and wandered on down to the waterfront, which apparently was exercising a little power over its terrestrial neighbor, earth,
and found my little man, Moses, who carried me across to the beach and jungle on his little dinghy (he had already parted the waters for 3 exiled peoples that day so I told him the boat would do just fine) for a small fee. What a guy. Sweet and charming. Didn't ask me what I studied or how much I cost. Probably didn't like coffee without sugar. Anyways. After warning me about rays, he left me here:
I was alone. The river was quiet. The water was drinkable. I succumbed to and in the pleasure of the moment.
I began to wander. The sole mountain loomed above, and I figured I would climb it.
Its that little nubber off in the distance. Being alone means being yourself--other in-cluded. Nothing was extreme in that moment looking up at that mountain. Everything was subdued and genuine.
The walk reminded me of Cape Cod and Rural Retreat--nature smells the same everywhere.
Moses told me I could rent a kayak back to the other side, but when I arrived, the kayaks were locked up. A bystander informed me that the kayak moco had already left for the day. Porra! Isso e Brasil, I scowled. I replied, "but Moses told me I could take a kayak!" The guy just looked at me and said "what do you want me to do?" Why did I expect him to do anything? Just then, a rowboatman came slurping right up to the shore, picking up a couple to bring them back to the other side. I hopped in and got to observe a romantic boat trip while enjoying a smoke, doing no work, and paying less. Isso e Brasil.
I went swimming with my hotel key in my pocket! Shit! It was one of those old ones too and they weren't gonna have an extra! I sheepishly told the donna of my inn my story...she laughed, handed me a new key, and continued cooking my dinner. Wow. Isso, e Brasil.
Sunset this night was my absolute highlight, perhaps of the whole trip. The scene was so uber serene--everything was beautiful. Every little pixel of my world was completely filled with beauty and calm. I spent hours on that dock. The air was light and delicious and I felt lifted. As the mountain sighed, I smiled smally.
After my daily dosage of ice cream and some delightfully spoiled Brits, I crawled into bed and slipped under into a deep calm sleep. I loved Alter do Chao. Here it is in its phully prolific photogenic pulchritude:
Brazil is an extremely diverse place.
Happiness in solitude--and solitude in happiness. Lonesome too, but real.
The bus from Alter do Chao back to Santarem was identical--that is to say, it was the exact same one that I took there: same trash, same graffiti. Remember I was mentioning constant stimulation and lack of headphones? Well the bus is the most rampant breeding ground for annoyances of this nature. People don't have cell phones to make calls with. They have cell phones to play music in public with. This one had Dire Straits on loop. Hell, I'll take it! I can get high and mighty about the American influence on Brazilian culture. But then when I go to a tiny restaurant like the one I was at last night listening to some out of this world chorinho, I wish that we had some of that, cause we sure could use it.
I was ready to hit the river again, be on the move. I might never get off the boat.
And back on it again to Santana, this time feeling vibrant and wonderful and relieved to be moving across the water again.
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| For some reason, the whole landscape and vibes in general reminded me of PEI |
I obsessively plan the future. I read the back of my cookie package so I can see how many there are and ration them out accordingly at pre-designated eating times. This kind of planning and routine makes me comfortable, happy, and stressed. But it isn't always how life works out. Sometimes I gotta eat 4 cookies instead of 3 because I planned on getting an orange at the fruit stand I always passed but today they were closed. Or maybe I need to take a boat from Santarem to Santana instead of Belem. I think of de Quincey's concept of the present in "Savannah Al-Mar"--this infinitely finite moment that we really cannot grasp. It would take some serious enlightenment to get there but I feel myself getting closer and that is good.
I have to place a value on everything. Is that necessary? Is it good or bad that I place value on everything?
Balance is good...but maybe saying so is just a copout?
I think of alone time here. And I think of alone time there--without the computer.
Cigarette smoking is not just a part of daily life for me. It is that too, but I try to make each cigarette special by setting up the perfect environment to smoke it in. Right song, right view, right everything. I would go up to that rooftop on that boat with my coffee and my music...and then the death chants of Northern Brazil...but, I adapted, and found many perfect cigarettes amongst the accordions and litterers (and I even saw someone pick up trash!). The boat is a floating arcade of light and sound moving through the dark Amazon. I made that ok and enjoyed it. But I think of that place before western contact. In a sense, technology is progress, and in a sense, it is the opposite. Just different.
It hit me: I automatically assume that I am better than everyone else (except when I feel less than everyone else) and that other people don't think. But everyone thinks! No one is better or worse--people just have different priorities. What is shallow and deep? The shallow one is only shallow to the one who thinks they are shallow, entendeu? We are all the same incredible species. I need to give my fellows some more credit here! Instead of making them prove themselves to me, I will let their humanity do that, making me more open to them from the start--a little thing a wise man I know calls "the assumption of good will." I like that. I think it'll make me a happier person. It seems there is no such thing as a truly selfless act. Because giving makes us happier. But I want there to be such thing as true selflessness! Otherwise, what's the point? Another wise man once told me that selfishness entails the preclusion of others, whereas an act of self-gain that also benefits others can still be considered selfless. I think that solves the problem. I suppose it really falls on the intention behind the act, yes?
By an uneventful trip, I meant in all parts except the within. As you can see, to conclude, in sum, solitude makes the mind grow faster. A growing mind feeds the spirit and well you know the rest. I was not anxious to arrive in Santana. I wanted to stay on that boat forever. I was in a good position. People take this boat for transport. I take it for pleasure. I took the road more traveled. But because I did, I think I took the road less traveled--entendeu? It's kinda like how those who are different are conforming and how this is all one thing and all nothing, that one no thing.
After 28 hours of deep sleep and deep sounds (the stars shining, the boat pushing water, birds squawking, and Jerry mourning), we arrived in Santana at night. I bolted to the next boat leaving in the morning for Belem, to set my hammock up there and avoid a hotel while getting a prime spot for my trip the next day. But my angels pulled me back, advising me to stay with them on the other boat
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| ain't she a beaut? |
I wanted to check out the town, and so I got together with my friends and we set off. I thought we'd be on foot...but of course, for "safety reasons" we had to take a cab, which they gladly paid for, bless them. Am I just brazen or are people here overly cautious? Anyways, Santana is REALLY junky--oh man, just....awful. Bad vibes there. And I wanted to go back to the boat...and I was stranded until the others wanted to go back cause of the taxi thing....and I just told myself to never not be alone again cause I cannot relinquish my control and deal with the programs of others.
But you know, when I finally did get back, I reflected and realized my night was pretty nice. I slept like a baby. It was like a slumber party on that boat.
I awoke at dawn to the sounds of the docks; saddled up the pack, and trucked on over to my next boat. I was back in my old home place, not looking for no job in no town. I had saved money by being without a hotel the previous night, and the boat tickets were cheaper than I thought, so I was in a great position--planning decadent meals once I arrived in Belem, hoping the food would be better than the rest of Brazil (its not). But just then, a round man on the dock caught my eye. He had a table set up and was playing 3 cups and a ball, ya know? Guess where it is guess where it is!!
Now, these guys are obviously hustlers--I learned that 3 years ago at a music festival where I threw away 100 bucks just like that. But something took over me...I was literally possessed by this addict's need to gamble, to win, to have more more more to play to be thrilled to risk it all....
Without thinking, and KNOWING FOR SURE that I knew where that ball was, I pointed to cup 1. The round smiling man said "Put down 50." I sprinted back to the boat, dug out my wallet, and sprinted back to him. My friends tried to stop me, but I didn't even hear them--after the fact, they described me as absolutely crazy, there was a look in my eyes. I threw down 50 on the next round--cause I was SURE I knew were that fucking ball was. Vacant.
That's ok--I'll just put down 50 more and win it back. Vacant.
Oh man, that really sucks--but no worries, I'll just put down 50 more and win it back! Got it! Yes! That was easy, let me keep playing, and I'll win all 100 back, and then some! Put down that 50 baby!
Vacant.
This all happened in the span of 30 seconds. And suddenly--it hit me. I just gambled away 100 reais like a goddamned fool! To a fat little smiling man who I knew (but was not cognizant of) was hustling me! I didn't even look in my wallet to see how much I had. 40 left. Enough for a hotel and transport to the airport. That's it. No food. I was not thinking. I was taken ahold of. I say that I need to make the same mistake twice before I learn.
I slinked back to the boat. I felt sick. I could not believe what I had just done. I didn't even remember it. I literally was a different person--its like The Mask with Jim Carrey. Oh, that was a hard lesson to learn folks. I just felt so miserable. I had no money. I embarrassed myself in front of the whole city. But worse, I embarrassed myself in front of myself. So alone. So dejected.
I went to the roof to pray. And a sliver of light began to shine...hey, wait a minute! I just learned a great life lesson here. I will never gamble what I can't afford to lose ever again! And I will NEVER play that 3 cup and a ball game again! And I will check myself next time I am feeling so greedy--I already had enough money! And money isn't everything, it is practically nothing, really! I will think before I act! And I learned all that in 30 seconds at the expense of just 100 reais! That is a steal! I got a bargain! No one got hurt, its just money, I have an emergency fund in the bank, hell! I got LUCKY! And this knowledge, knowing that all this was meant to be and right and good, made me feel relieved. If only life were always this easy, and cheap!
But not completely. I was anxious about food. I didn't want to use the emergency fund. So I bought 2 packets of ramen and some oranges, all costing 3 reais. And that is what I lived on for the next 48 hours. Dry ramen, oranges, an occasional charity cookie from my friends (Brazilians are so wonderfully generous! Gotta love the communal mentality in comparison with the individual hoarding of America. Again, I generalize. I roughly theorize that difficult conditions cause people to be nicer to each other. It's probably been studied.), and a fried breaded hotdog for a buck. I think, in part, I was punishing myself, which I regret, because it did not feel healthy in any way at all. I am so grateful I don't have to look forward to dry ramen as my main daily meal. My first taste of eating on a budget (along with the documentary I just made on homeless people) caused me to revise my interests in and desires to live on the street for awhile to try it out.
I went back down to the roly poly schnister without my wallet and watched him take more people's money, snickering away like Templeton. I had resolved to never play again. But my heart began to beat real fast, I knew where the ball was, I almost went and got my wallet...but I got such bad vibes from that game and felt relaxed just watching it. I am grateful to have problems, because without problems, I would never grow as a person.
A truly great man neither boasts nor expects praise for his good deeds.
It has been said and I have thought too that the scenery on the boat is monotonous. Just river and jungle. But it is anything but that! Every cell of life brings a new ball to the cup!
A noteworthy tidbit: Santana lies EXACTLY on the equator. I thought that was pretty cool. Just being there. It only occurred to me now that the equator is a special place of equilibrium, like the equinox. My bumbling swindledeedoo brought balance to my life. Copout!
Well! We arrived in Belem. My final destination.
My angels offered to let me crash in their kitchenette if it was cool with the superintendent of the building--vamos la! Unfortunately, we couldn't work it out, so I bid them farewell and found a cheap hotel my guidebook suggested. In the book, it said R$30/night, but they charged me R$40! I was pissed--I almost said "but my guidebook said its only 30 so you need to do 30 for me!" but I realized how ridiculous that sounded...so instead, I trashed my room thinking "ha, these bastards trying to overcharge me are getting theirs! ha ha ha" until I realized I was being a total brat and cleaned everything up.
But Belem. Belem Belem Belem. Hmmm. I had 2 days there, and I figured the first day, I'd check out the city, and the second day, I'd check out the national park to get a taste of the jungle--do some Amazon shit, ya know? I began my trek around town...and it was a dirty city too, but they all are--but it was nice. Saw some churches, some botanical gardens with the GIANT LILLY PADS THAT I CAME TO BRAZIL TO SEE (well not really but I was really excited when I saw them, cause I paid 2 reais to enter, and that's like either 4 packets of ramen or 3 packets of cookies or 2 fried hot dogs or like 6 oranges and so it was money well spent!)...but I was walking everywhere, and I was exhausted, and living off the junk I was living on made me feel really sick and miserable--not just physically, but about the money I gave away, putting me in this situation (does roly poly deserve that money? He outsmarted me, and I am sure he was a poor guy...but does what he does warrant bad karma?). But I forced myself to keep walking cause I had to see the city! I walked into a store and the FIRST THING that clerk said to me was: you need to cut your hair and your beard. Then he repeated himself! I walked out without saying a word or buying a thing. I was so done. Dying to get back home, even to Salvador! Because Salvador has become my home. As uncomfortable as it can be, it was this beacon of solace for me. Oh, I was negative. After hours of agony I finally arrived back in my hotel and collapsed in the heat of my cramped R$40 room. I wish I could have given Belem more of a chance, cause it honestly seemed pretty neat. But the awful space I was in stewed up frustration bordering on hatred for Brazil in me, and I could not help dreaming about being back on US soil.
I decided to gingerly dip into my emergency fund and get 2 popsicles to make me feel better. I only felt worse and passed out with a migraine at 9. But here is Belem in 2D:
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| Praca da Republica |
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| Teatro da Paz |
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| Basilica de Nazare |
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| (interior) |
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| Part of the Botanical Garden |
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| More Jardim Botanico |
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| What the fuck!? Backwards, right!? The ghosts of the indigenous people in western clothes as cardboard statues in a fake jungle in the middle of a huge city. This is so slimy and patronizing and faux-authentic. I felt uncomfortable. |
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| oh YEAH baby! |
The next morning I awoke in a slightly better but still pissy mood. I dreamt that someone was trying to rob me but because I had no money and because I was white, I got stabbed in the throat. Great way to start the day. Warn't no way I was gonna go hiking through no forest! I opted to take a boat to the apparently gorgeous "island haven" (guide book) of Cotijuba, 18 km out of town, and lie on the beach all day. Even better--there were "nature trails and jungle perfect for bird watching" if I got some energy.
Upon arrival I had 2 options: walk to the crappy beach or spend 10 reais to take a mototaxi to the good beach. My situation being as it was, a beach was a beach, so I started walking. Cotijuba was nice--no cars, kinda homey and rustic. But I got to the beach--and there was that awful awful music blasting (ITS EVERYWHERE!). So I walked a bit down the beach. But the next hut was blasting the same type of music but a different song. And it melded with the music from before, so it was this soup of just aural abuse. I walked down the beach at least 2 kilometers, through marsh and branches....and there was hut after hut of extremely loud pop forro everywhere. I was beyond pissed. I was on this beautiful island trying to relax and all I could hear was this SHIT! What is wrong with the sounds of nature??? I almost decided to just head to the airport early and wait there 16 hours (this was the last day of my trip, after all). No, no, just adapt. Be Brazilian. Enjoy it like they do. So I tried.
And I couldn't. The music never stopped. I lay there restlessly for a few hours, and then decided I had to get up and do something. I had the will to get into that jungle. I asked where it was, and they said over by the good beach. Haha. Go figure. Shelled out the cash and headed on down. I was happy/distressed to see that the good beach had crappy music too. But I wasn't there for the beach. I was there for the jungle. I was guided to the path by some locals, and began my trek. Of course, the locals were shocked that I actually wanted to just walk through the forest to enjoy it (like doing the same thing on a boat). They told me it would take hours and hours and I had better be strong of leg and have eaten a hearty meal and have plenty of water. I felt like a champ.
Again, it smelled of Virginia and Massachusetts, and even a bit of New Hampshire. This world is amazingly diverse and all just one big ol' thing!
But expectations can never be expected to be met, viu? My jungle walk started out great, but my vision of an Amazonian island jungle is different from the locals--and after a few hundred meters, the forest broke out onto a dirt road, and I basically just walked through a residential area with some trees. But, ya know, it was still really nice. Had the river to one side of me too--and I relaxed with my thoughts.
And I felt so good by then, that by the time I made it back to the good beach (about an hour later, haha), the music didn't even bother me. And then I found my treasure.
There were restaurants lining the whole beach. Chic-chic ones. And what do rich people do when they order lots of food at restaurants? They don't eat it all!!! I began to scurry from table to table, gathering up plates and plates of abandoned food--meat, beans, veggies, french fries, fried fish, barbecue, salad, and 3 or 4 different sauces and side dishes!! I brought it all back to my table and marveled at the feast before me: there were 6 or 7 plates full of food in front of me, and I could not have been happier, hungrier, more shameless, or more broke. The waiters were giving me extremely confused looks (at least they weren't the normal disgusted ones)--but they let it fly, and hell, I didn't care! I was living like a king!!
I chowed down a good bit and then asked a waiter for some to-go boxes. Yeah, don't have those here. But they do have plastic bags. So I said "bring me 5 and a spoon!" with a giddy smile and meat juice dripping down my beard. Oh, that waiter's face--HA! I am tickled just thinking of this moment, people! Ha! Hahahahaha! He brought me the bags and an itty bitty spoon to stir coffee with--they weren't going to waste their metal on this silly vagabond--and I began shoving the food into the bags, mixing it all together, sauces and all. I figured it would give me at least 2 more full meals (and so it did, ladies and gents), meaning that even with my transport to the nice beach, I had 10 reais left over to simply enjoy life with! Ice cream, anyone?
Mototaxis are so fun. There was a moment when it hit me--I am on a motorcycle on a dirt road in the rain during the twilight of the northeast coast of Brazil. I had so much fun that I smiled for at least 2 minutes straight without being able to stop. What real joy!
Making it over to the airport without a hitch, I seated myself at a cafe next to a beautiful girl (clearly not from those parts, haha--man I am giddy now!) and busted out the plastic bags--but somewhere along the way I lost the spoon. So I said fuck it and began shoveling piles of rice beans meats and sauces into my bearded hole with my hands--and oh boy! That cutie pie scurried away like she was a bunny running from a wolf!!! Har har har
Me being me, I had to spend all of the extra money I had, so I loaded up on gum and candy for desert. Spent all night traveling, amply fortified and broke as my bike, happy and nostalgic and full and jolly.
Being back in Salvador has been a gift. A month ago, I was done here. Just done. And this past week has been magical. I am loving this city. I don't want to leave! But it is always like that when you are about to say goodbye, ya know? It feels great to write again and especially about this trip. To reflect on it. I feel nostalgic for the boats. It has just been such a joy writing. I have been working on this piece about 6 hours now. And it's just really gratifying. I don't know what I am going to do yet when I get back about this ol' thing--but you know, a blog is like a good memory--it just don't go away, unless you make it.
My trip to the Amazon was really special. It had so many highs lows and in betweens....I grew, I learned. And I saw some cool shit too.
But you know, as good as things are, as content as I feel today, I sure am relieved to be coming home, home, you know, my real home. My home. I can't listen to Phish without grinning. I can't pick up the guitar without singing about Appalachia. I can't watch the Sox without looking to those hot summer nights in Boston with watermelon. Oooooo yeahhhhh baby.
Traveling is fulfilling--until you find a home.
I have a nice life.
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