(at Tijuca National Park in Rio de Janeiro)
Prepaid cards are used in buses. I have not yet seen a single female bus driver.
Gender fluidity is seen everywhere. Examples include women riding motor bikes, going to the gym. I hear that violence against women is common, that women are hooted at, on the streets.
Pharmacy stores are open 24 hours. There are far too many of them on a single street.
Showers have a water heater built into them. Campinas witnessed severe drought last year.
When it rains, it rains really hard. The soil was very dry and it must have loved the moisture.
There is queue for everything. However pregnant women, women with children, elderly people and disabled people get priority. Some Brazilians abuse this rule by ‘borrowing children’ just to jump the line.
Although bureaucracy is a nuisance, it provides employment, status, a meaning to live, for some.
Mother’s name is asked in many of the official documents !
I wonder what makes people to drink so much and dance to the tunes of samba; they hear the music but not the lyrics; yet they are nostalgic and yearn for the music. I saw hundreds of people dancing. The atmosphere was nevertheless very good but a question kept lingering in my mind why indulge the delicate body to such noise and ambiance, in the name of culture.
I saw music bringing together strangers, including a man with down’s syndrome. There was a man whose arms and limbs were crooked yet it did not prevent him to invite a lady to dance. There was a couple who danced gracefully. The audience was singing but I didn’t understand what they were saying.
Yet this music did not touch the inner recesses of my mind as classical music does.
I saw an old lady and a younger woman dancing together and it was lovely to see them.
Age does not matter when it comes to music and dance.
Men, women, boys and girls alike flaunt one-liners on their T-shirts, only in English, which are at times of lewd and vulgar in nature. I wonder if the wearer understand those words. Why do we have to expound statements ? Do we become them ? Some of them are listed below:
- Kiss the boys and make them cry
- Make your heart happy
- Raise high
- I only want to get high
- Deus e fiel
- We are not really here
- Kiss very hard
- LA 27
- 78 CKJ
- Stay with me
- Fly emirates
- Long live rock n roll
- Vintage record fair
- Sorry I’m chic
- Japan 16
- Southern California
- Heineken premium quality
- Overcore limited
- Old school
- National art of surfing
- Champ has today
- All you need is me !
- Summer 1926 beach party
- Life is too short to wait
- I can’t wait to…
- The country of poets: Germany
- New York
- NY loves me
- Drink bit***es
- Just lift it.
(at Confeiteria Colombo in Rio de Janeiro)
Outside the Cathedral at Campinas, while I was waiting for the clock to tick 5 pm to watch the movie Nebraska at the museu of image and sound, I saw:
A man has a scar right in the middle of the chest
A man’s bottom forearm is amputated; a cotton gauze covers the wound
A bunch of people who seem to be homeless are sitting on the steps to the cathedral
A gay couple was holding hands and the boy behind me cringes
I saw a bunch of people singing, all men. I think it is samba music and of religious nature. Men were distributing posters beckoning the passersby to express interest in their activity
There is a black man with blonde cropped hair licking his fingers after throwing away a plastic bag full pf greasy food
Two young boys were making paper planes. The older one tried to propel it on the air bur it fell off sadly on the floor with a thud
Most of the men had no shirt on that hot summer day
It was surprising to see laser hair removal centres; hairy chest are a thing of the past !
Shops entice us to own the memories; Is our happiness only determined by material objects ? Would we not be happy when we read good literature or a listen to a beautiful piece of music.
Average salary in Campinas is 1300 Reais, I was told by a shop owner. Banks woo customers to pay using credit cards. However, foreigners, like me, get a credit card with a credit limit of R$200.
While I was waiting at the terminal to catch a bus from Rio to Campinas, I noticed:
The man next to my left talking on the telephone. Prior to that he was whatsapping.
I was listening to Marisa Monte’s irresistible dance music. The noise in the station and the smell was overpowering.
A young boy with a very dirty feet was walking around aimlessly: He was held by a police.
The man who was trying very hard to log on to the computer has deformed feet. He probably forgot the password. I wanted to help him but would he have trusted me ?
A child, it is a boy, is held on a mother’s lap. The child was fast asleep. We all been a mother’s child, yet we sometimes become monsters as we grow up.
What is the purpose of education. Would community evolve without language ? Simple acts of kindness are witnessed at times. My heart melts with joy.
A hornet with a powerful sting is trapped on a glass window, strutting back and forth; All this walking is depraving her of her fuel reserves. I stand there, waiting to help but afraid at the same time that it will sting me. I poke a stick at her, hoping that she will see the difference between the glass and the plastic surface. It didn’t. Probably it was afraid that I was going to hurt her. Were we both afraid of each other at the same time ? Was the fear that we experienced the same and we infected each other of the it ?
I saw a middle aged woman holding the hand of a young tall black man.
People wear nylon shirts on a hot summer day. Taking pictures all the time
Excessive public display of affection without being sensitive to others
On cell phones even at the till
Excessive tattoos and piercing
Gyming and protein supplements
A child with malformed limbs
A man abusing a woman on the road. They seem drunk
Beethoven’s sonata played on the gas truck. What an order this music has. Yet the mind of a man is in such disorder.
Nina Simone sings,
‘everyone has gone to the moon, what will happen now…’; ‘Am I the only one who thinks these mysterious thoughts ?’; ‘some day I will die, will I ever live again ?’
Who Am I ?