June 27, 2003
Another sunset
Sorry about the sunset picture everybody, I'm sure you've seen enough of those by now. Due to technical difficulties, I was unable to upload a sweet picture that I took of Ivan and myself watching TV. The technical difficulty had to do with me falling asleep at around 9:45 last night. I was too tired to do anything and I figured that I would be able to copy pictures off of my camera here at work. Well, guess what? I can't. I'm also moving today. I packed my bags and I'm headed to a new house after work. I don't know if I'll have access to a computer capable of handling my pictures once there, but don't panic, I'll do my best to keep the photography coming.
First casualty! I try to stay as close to the side of the road as I can as I ride my bike. It just makes sense because I need to make as much room for passing cars as possible. Anyhow, I didn't pay close enough attention to the curb, and as lightening strikes, BAM!, my little right toe met the curb and got skinned. Tragic! I think I'll wear my shoes while I ride from now on. It's a bummer because there's only one small stretch of road where I have to be particularly careful, but I've learned my lesson. Sniff.
I had to return the video of City of God to the video store across the street from me, so I went for a walk. I took the video back and was quickly summoned by the sweet sweet smell of grilling meat. I found the grill on the sidewalk outside of the back entrance of a convenience store. A skinny dark-skinned guy with a Marlboro baseball cap was tending to coals as they cooked marinated chunks of beef skewered on thin bamboo shoots. I bought two for 1 real a piece. That's about 35 cents a piece. He took the two skewers and rolled the meat in a dish of toasted flour. I don't remember exactly what the stuff is called (edit: it's called farofa), but it's something very unique to Brazil, toasted flour, kind of like soft sand that they sprinkle their meats with. It's nothing special, but it's part of the experience.
I stood there, on the back side of the shopping center while four men slapped dominoes on a table nearby. Two men stood inside the store, smoking and opining their night away. And I stood there, in the clear night, lit by the florescent lights shining inside the store, on the sidewalk, chewing away, trying to eavesdrop, trying to understand where I stood, but I came to no conclusion and I left.
From there I went to the bakery and bought a piece of a ham and cheese filled loaf of something and an eclair. From there it was to the grocery store where I bought a liter and a half of apple flavored liquid yogurt. I meant to bring that into work today, but I forgot.
What's the point of all of this? Why am I writing this? Because it was a nice little walk around the Brazilian strip mall. It made an impression on me. It's always interesting to see foreign people go about their daily lives. The convenience store, the grill, the dominoes, the well-dressed patrons of the bakery, the quiet girl at the cash register in the grocery store. These things are Brazil. It's not samba, it's not churrascaria, it's not violent crime, palm trees, Ipanema, or bikinis. It's Brazilian life, and I just walked around it for a while. I walked home, past a guy selling brooms in the parking lot, past another guy trying to sell pineapple, and past a woman in a white robe with her hair done up in a white shawl who sat at a table making dough and frying meat-filled pastries under the stars and by the light of the strip mall signs.
Music listened to while writing: The Microphones' truly unreal The Glow Pt. 2