¡Que viva Latinoamérica! 14/05/2012
7 months since I started my oversea journey. Todo me encanta. Living on the coast of the ocean ...and high up in the Andes. I put a lot of laugh, i lot of tears, a lot of kisses, a lot of heart, a lot of courage, a lot of dreams, a lot of passion, a lot of tongues, a lot of freedom, a lot of spicies, a lot of dancing, a lot of music, a lot of magic, a lot of prays, a lot of breath. Breath. I am in love. And I am going on. Everything you can imagine is real. Soy, Soy lo que dejaron, soy toda la sobra de lo que se robaron. Un pueblo escondido en la cima, mi piel es de cuero por eso aguanta cualquier clima. Soy una fábrica de humo, mano de obra campesina para tu consumo Frente de frio en el medio del verano, el amor en los tiempos del cólera, mi hermano. El sol que nace y el día que muere, con los mejores atardeceres. Soy el desarrollo en carne viva, un discurso político sin saliva. Las caras más bonitas que he conocido, soy la fotografía de un desaparecido. Soy la sangre dentro de tus venas, soy un pedazo de tierra que vale la pena. soy una canasta con frijoles, soy Maradona contra Inglaterra anotándote dos goles. Soy lo que sostiene mi bandera, la espina dorsal del planeta es mi cordillera. Soy lo que me enseño mi padre, el que no quiere a su patria no quiere a su madre. Soy América Latina, un pueblo sin piernas pero que camina. Tú no puedes comprar al viento. Tú no puedes comprar al sol. Tú no puedes comprar la lluvia. Tú no puedes comprar el calor. Tú no puedes comprar las nubes. Tú no puedes comprar los colores. Tú no puedes comprar mi alegría. Tú no puedes comprar mis dolores. Tengo los lagos, tengo los ríos. Tengo mis dientes pa` cuando me sonrío. La nieve que maquilla mis montañas. Tengo el sol que me seca y la lluvia que me baña. Un desierto embriagado con bellos de un trago de pulque. Para cantar con los coyotes, todo lo que necesito. Tengo mis pulmones respirando azul clarito. La altura que sofoca. Soy las muelas de mi boca mascando coca. El otoño con sus hojas desmayadas. Los versos escritos bajo la noche estrellada. Una viña repleta de uvas. Un cañaveral bajo el sol en Cuba. Soy el mar Caribe que vigila las casitas, Haciendo rituales de agua bendita. El viento que peina mi cabello. Soy todos los santos que cuelgan de mi cuello. El jugo de mi lucha no es artificial, Porque el abono de mi tierra es natural. Tú no puedes comprar al viento. Tú no puedes comprar al sol. Tú no puedes comprar la lluvia. Tú no puedes comprar el calor. Tú no puedes comprar las nubes. Tú no puedes comprar los colores. Tú no puedes comprar mi alegría. Tú no puedes comprar mis dolores. Você não pode comprar o vento Você não pode comprar o sol Você não pode comprar chuva Você não pode comprar o calor Você não pode comprar as nuvens Você não pode comprar as cores Você não pode comprar minha felicidade Você não pode comprar minha tristeza Tú no puedes comprar al sol. Tú no puedes comprar la lluvia. (Vamos dibujando el camino, vamos caminando) No puedes comprar mi vida. MI TIERRA NO SE VENDE. Trabajo en bruto pero con orgullo, Aquí se comparte, lo mío es tuyo. Este pueblo no se ahoga con marullos, Y si se derrumba yo lo reconstruyo. Tampoco pestañeo cuando te miro, Para que te acuerdes de mi apellido. La Operación cóndor invadiendo mi nido, ¡Perdono pero nunca olvido! (Vamos caminando) Aquí se respira lucha. (Vamos caminando) Yo canto porque se escucha. Aquí estamos de pie ¡Que viva Latinoamérica! No puedes comprar mi vida. Add Comment Rio. Epilogue. 11/04/2012
 copyright andré águas There are places, which can possess you. Rio de Janeiro is the second place after Wadi Rum, Jordan, which entranced me with its beauty and vibe. The couchsurfing: 20 days, 5 hosts: Hilton, Felipe, Tiago & Bruno, Vicente, Ivana. Five angels, who I sincerely thank for the trust and hospitality while I was walking around the city 9 hours per day in search for a job. .   I was looking for one thing, found another. I've been only hearing about him since he is the best friend of a great portuguese friend of mine. I was supposed to host him in Sófia in his round the world trip, but I missed the chance. Each of us knew the other tru the stories of our mutual friend but couldn't recognize each other when i went for a third time in a hostel in Copacabana to ask if there is a chance to work ... until we asked one another for our names. Rio was all about the madness of the carnaval, the exceeding sensual dynamic of the street, the language that I finally uncorked out of me, the stunning beauty of the city and the feeling of freedom in it. And at the same time Rio was all about André.  Playful fate. The hostel, which finally took me for a job on the 21st day of my arrival was 5 minutes away from André's hostel and to be easier there was a cheap boteco in the middle to get drunk into when both of our shifts ended at one and the same time in the afternoon.  Ipanema beach. The beaches in Rio are not vast as those in the North. They are overcrowded and the water is freezing. But the people are beautiful and the view is unforgettable – mountains from all your sides while you are sitting on the beach, watching at the huge island in front of you, ploped into the ocean. Great people I met in Wave hostel, where Cass and Sophie were my closest friends.  curly blond Cass, charming Sophie, Gal and a friend of him in the foreground.  Sophie and me in Pão de Açúcar  Dave and Jason - guests in the Wave Hostel during the carnaval.  minha doce sophieeee  the greatest guests in the hostel during the carnaval.  The pre-carnaval was already the most I had seen in terms of city night life. But the 7 days of the carnaval itself blew any pre-carnaval impression away. The most out-of-balance time I experienced in my life. 7 days Rio never closed eyes, never stopped playing music, never put normal clothes, never stayed sobre. 7 days full of gold cloth, gold piss and colorful feathers. Found an opportunity to visit several times the groups in sambódromo during the pre-carnaval and once during the carnaval.   Lapa. It is the neighbourhood with jazz, samba, bars, beer and caipirinha on the street. Again, it is not just a place where people meet up and drink. It is a whole neigbourhood where people meet up and drink. The tourists everywhere around the city are a lot but somehow Rio assimilates them and they are not that obvious. Lapa gives the impression of an almost totally local venue. Local boys bring instruments to play on while local girls dance around them. No one has a shame to flirt in a direct, very direct way.   I was soaking Rio up like a sponge. Pushed myself to the limit. Days melted into weeks, weeks into months. I was constantly drunk and tired. The blocos (street parades, where a track with musicians and dancers is followed by the dancing crowd) started at 10 AM and finished at 6 AM. I was sleeping few hours a day, trying to maintain consciousness at work and keeping it on out in the streets. Basically, I was living in the streets of Rio. Sleeping in a dormitory second-floor bed didn't give me any personal space for reading, resting or doing whatever in peace. If not sleeping or working, the street was my home and the sand was my sofa.  And that is how I abused myself. At one time felt that I had to go away from Rio or i will die there. I recalled the same time last year, when I was fasting in a desert tent away from people, artificial light and noise. And even I know that more is yet to come, a thought in my head uttered: “God gave me everything”.  A whiff of Buenos Aires 07/04/2012
 Useful travel tip. If you have a flight with a stopover of several hours, check if you cannot extend your stopover and get the same connection flight 24 h later. Or 48. It depends on the company and the country but there is a chance to work it out without any penalty. This is what my Argentinian friend did for me and insert a short lovely holiday in Buenos Aires between Brazil and Perú. Even though it was just a glimpse of the city, I enjoyed every single minute in it. BA feels like Western Europe. Old-architectured buildings, spruced up people of all ages (they would put Havaianas on their feet only on the way to the bathroom) , wide roads and pavements, parks literally on every corner, sunbathing and picnicing on the grass, bustling night-life spots more bar-concentrated. And a good friend in it with who I was in the same frequency whole 3 days. A rare state.                    The end. Fortaleza. The city of a dream. 12/02/2012
Fortaleza. There are important people and places that engraved only on my memory but no camera caught them. Gil, my two groups in Hospital Mental de Messejana, my groups in the numerous schools around the city, many little spots, many great moments, many little details. Now living in Rio, I can set myself aside and compare. Fortaleza for me was the city of the hammocks, açaí, self-service cheap restaurants, vast beaches and forró. This is what I finally have in photos:                                            Friday SMS 22/01/2012
 Ya, well, it can be any other weekday, but statistically speaking it is more likely to be written or received on a Friday night, when all the week pressure is successfully drowned in litters of beer, wine, vodka or whatever makes your mind get empty. Friday sms is a byword. A byword for your hidden or suddenly arisen desires toward a person, whose attractiveness comes to the fore in your drunk head and you are feeling an internal imperative to share with him what you want or how you feel. It could be: “take a taxi and come over me” or “i miss you here” or simply “heyyyy, you”. Sometimes more complicated, but usually silly, tasteless and pathetic. Friday sms is all about love or fuck. Or love and fuck. The interesting part is that even blindly drunk you are actually aware of the one-way communication. You don't really expect an answer, you are doing it for the pure sake of straightforwardness. You know that you sound ridiculous but you don't give a damn. You do give a damn in the morning when while brushing your teeth a flashback bangs your head and with a tooth-paste foam on your mouth you rush into the bedroom to check in the sent items what foolishness you produced last night. Then you promise yourself, next time when you are drunk and light-minded to throw your mobile in the toilet and flush it out. Seriously, isn't it time a sms undo button to be created? Or a 6th sense mobile, which blocks the txt option when your breath starts attracting fruit flies. I believe everyone at one time have been someones "Friday sms". But I know people who never send Friday sms no matter of the degree of their intoxication. Cheers to them, i admire you, guys! I haven't been in love with noone in the recent several years, so luckily my friday txts appear to be less pathetic and respectively less embarrassing for me in the morning. Still I am wondering at the stupidity of the phenomena to txt someone when you are drunk. Dear last night Friday sms of mine, if you are reading these lines, here's to you! Actually, I meant it. :) my 7 rules of being a nomad 13/01/2012
More and more people are travelling around the globe out of business or touristic intention. Maybe you just finished high-school, have a gap year doing some volunteering or some personal reason leads you to settle down for a while in a different culture and climate. Whatever the case, if you are going to spend more than just a few weeks in one place, you are going to pass through the glamourous side of the land you cast the anchor, unveiling all its hidden beauties and beasts. Here are my seven tips of staying calm and open to the new experience.
Rio. Prelude. 04/01/2012
Той стъпваше предпазливо и намери мястото. Беше гол до кръста и носеше дебел картон. Сложи картона на ъгъла. Един от многото, казах си, които спят тук, в Бразилия, на улицата. След минута видях слабо, чернокожо, кокалесто момиче да ходи по същата улица. Беше полунощ. Никой не се разхожда по улиците по това време. След шест вечерта, когато тук вече е тъмно, тъй като сме на екватора, никой не смее да се разхожда по улиците. Джебчийте владеят улиците. Всекидневно те пресрещат и ти взимат малкото, което имаш. Джобни, телефон – стига. За днес. Никой не се разхожда по улиците на Форталеза. Особено днес, когато има стачка на полицията. Хайки се събират накуп и обират магазини, защото няма полицаи по улиците. Всички магазини днес бяха затворени с решетки и не работеха, защото се страхуват от организираните хайки. По новините се тръбеше, ако могат гражданите да не излизат навън. След двумесечна работа по фавелите, където се срещнах с картини, които по най-смелите бразилските филми са цензурирани, ги послушах и не излязох. Останах у дома и с бедната си заплата бавно пиех това, което разпознавам като португалско виньо верде. И си пуснах Пати Смит. Момичето не се страхуваше. Пристъпи към мястото, където той си направи легло от кашоните. Ясно, тя е неговото момиче. Тя е момиче на улицата. Няма от какво да се страхува. Вечер, когато по тъмно решавам да извървя километъра до океанското крайбрежие, за да тичам или да се разхождам, излизам без нищо, само малко ключе от къщата си в джоба на панталона. На връщане, ако по тъмните улички срещна съмнително разхождащи се причакващи типове, рецептата е ясна. Започвам да ровя по кофите. Тогава те ме подминават без дори да ме загледат. Аз съм една от тях, която търси храна. Апропо, намерих си някои интересни неща из боклуците, които си взимах у дома. Момичето подмина мястото, където той бе уредил леглото им. Разходи се няколко преки по-напред, търсейки вероятно друг кашон или нещо, с което да се покрият. Не намери нищо и се върна. Легнаха си и тъмнината ми попречи да проследя всичко по-нататъшно. Онова, което почувствах беше тяхната свобода. Бях напуснала работа вчера и имах три дни да напусна онова, което сега се нарича мой дом. Без да знам посоката, без да имам никой, никого и нищо. Почувствах тяхната свобода и я приех за своя. Вероятно привидно. Вероятно не. Това беше момента, в който им подсвирнах и изхвърлих вещите си през прозореца. Оставих компютъра, на който пиша това, седнала на стълбището между първия и втория етаж, където хващам нечий сигнал в сградата, където все още се намира дома ми. За още три дни. С лекота на гърба си и на сърцето си, заминавам за Рио. Cambuco 30/12/2011
Two months and a half since I am in Brazil and I never went out from Fortaleza. It was about time. I visited a charming village neraby - Cambuco. With the most charming company :)        Luke 2-10:11 24/12/2011
 Лука, 2:10-11 10 Но ангелът им рече: Не бойте се, защото, ето, благовестявам ви голяма радост, която ще бъде за всичките люде. 11 Защото днес ви се роди в Давидовия град Спасител, Който е Христос Господ. Luke 2:10-11 10 And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. 11 For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. Lucas 2, 10-11 10 O anjo, porém, lhes disse: Não temais, porquanto vos trago novas de grande alegria que o será para todo o povo:11 É que vos nasceu hoje, na cidade de Davi, o Salvador, que é Cristo, o Senhor. 
A Tribute to Shopping Malls 05/12/2011
 You think malls only make us greedy or take the business away from the small enterprises, really mark up the articles and even worse, accustom people to bad values like eating fat pop corn with Coke while watching a movie or buying expensive brands, because they are advertised to be cool. Most probably you are right. This is not enough to stop me to write a tribute to malls :) Recently I am travelling thru extremely moist or dry and mostly hot places. After hours of exploring the streets, the people, the smells and the sounds, you would need a break and if you are out of Europe it is likely not to find ala Starbucks air-conditioned coffee bar around. When I happen to be in a comparatively big city, I would squeeze immediately into the first mall I see. It could be the only public indoor venue you can enter and stay unnoticed as long as you want. Here are my 5 reasons to like malls: 1. It has air-conditioning! If it is 40 degree outside, no shadow and no places to rest, the mall is undoubtedly your saver. 2. It has a bathroom that you can use without paying for it and it is in better condition than those outside if there are any at all. Sometimes I get really tired to ask restaurants for using their bathroom and sometimes, believe it or not, I have no cash for using the public ones. 3. There are always wi-fi spots in the mall. Sometimes it is free, sometimes you have to pay for the service, whatever the case, it is a blessing, because, remember, no Starbucks around. 4. The supermarket downstairs. Some cold water, cheap can of a beer and the cheapest way to have some lunch, buying a tomato with a slice of cheese, for instance. 5. A quick dose of a back-to-civilization feeling. Ok, you are a super-keen tribe explorer and can survive in any harsh conditions, without missing any western stereotype. Respect. Just give me 5 more minutes to have an escalator ride once again up to the 4th floor and I will go straight back to the 12th century, where my home is waiting me beyond several sand dunes. Or back to the whatever nature element I am taming now. |
