Eu abro as minhas pernas.
Nós abrimos os nossos corpos.
O coração está aberto.
Tu abres os teus olhos.
Eu abro as minhas pernas.
Nós abrimos os nossos corpos.
O coração está aberto.
My dear friends and random readers, I am travelling for a year and a half so far. Almost all the time volunteering without thinking about any money issues. Not because I have it. Just because I believe that every time it will work out somehow. My first half of travelling was looking for already set volunteering placements, where I at least could get food and bed in exchange of my work. After a short stop in my homeland I blindly went on with one way tickets without having a person or job to rely on in the destinations I was travelling to. From the airport to the couchsurfing place and from the couchsurfing place to the street where I was looking for a job. It is not an around-the-world trip of mine. Every stop, every country I am living in, has a concrete significant role for what I would like to do with my life back home. No matter the huge debt in my credit card, I relied on it for my travels. Only on it.
Now, it comes the time when even my credit card is empty. I should say, I am not smart enough in earning money. I am sure there are many good and bad ways in every place to work it out, for which I am blind. Now the fact says I am in Perú, living and struggling in the high Andes, working morning and evening to cover the expense of the cheapest bed in the town and working of heart during the day for an amazing social project with 80 kids and no money to live by.
There is a donate button on my homepage. If you can donate 2$ it can be possible for me to go on. Don't rely on big donations, just rely on many of you.
I thought to make a fundarising to visit Machu Picchu here or for my flight back to Europe. Never thought that I will make a fundarising to survive. But it happened. The most annoying element is that I am happy. I know that one way or another everything will be ok. And that's the way I can think about - to ask you for help. The picture above reminds me of a children's game, called "little chair", which I played as a kid, where the others' hands lift you up. What I can give you back is my gratefulness.
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.
I am in love.
And I am going on.
Everything you can imagine is real.
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.
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”.
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.
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:
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. :)
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.
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.
A world is a book, which I am writing travelling and discovering that anything goes in a path full of miracles. Beast or an angel - it is up to you. My greatest life affair is just to keep on walking with respect.