Just one of them days....

Ugh, today was crappy; and I had such high hopes. It went down like this....

I woke up early this morning with all intentions of being productive. I came downstairs to have breakfast and met up with a Canadian couple and a British girl. They were chatting excitedly about how beautiful it was going to be today--- hot, sunny, slightly breezy--- perfect for going to the beach! I checked the forecast on my laptop and the high was 80F with nothing but rain and clouds in sight for the next 5 days, at least. All I can say is, their joy was infectious and I got the bug. They somehow managed to convince me that I should ditch work for one day and go with them. I quickly, and may I add stupidly agreed. I added, however, that I would only stay for a little while and then would come back, change and head to the archive to work during the late afternoon until it closed. Awesome plan, right?

We all got our swimsuits on and hopped on the first bus that said "Ipanema". We sped along for about 10 minutes then came to a screeching halt--- traffic. We crawled along for a while then, I noticed we were taking a different route than I was used to. Ok, I thought, it'll be okay; we might even miss some traffic this way. Wrong! We looped all around God-knows-where until, finally, after 40 minutes, we saw beach. My companions immediately hit the signal and we got out. I didn't recognize the beach but, whatever, we were somewhere. The Canadians said they wanted to look at some shops first and would meet us a little while later on the beach. The Brit chick and I agreed and got ourselves situated on the beach.

The beach was virtually deserted which, normally, I would dig but then the wind picked up. The sea was REALLY rough so she couldn't swim. The sun passed behind a massive cloud that was quickly followed by several massive clouds. It got to the point that it was so cold and windy that we had goosebumps. But, the Canadian couple was nowhere in sight; it was then that we realized that, between us, no one had a watch either. Shiznit. After much discussion, we decided to ditch that beach for what looked like a much sunnier area around the bend.

They say, "the grass is always greener"; in this case, "the beach is always sunnier". We hopped on a passing van, got to our destination, placed all our stuff and basked in the glow of the Brazilian sun.....for about 15 mins until the clouds caught up with us. Double shiznit. Time for lunch! Food never fails to cheer me up. We went on a quest to find some. After a frustrating amount of trekking (my companion is an exceptionally picky eater), we finally found a suitable place. 

Upon learning the time (after we had already ordered, of course!), I quickly realized I was cutting things close. I hustled the poor girl through our meal and we grabbed the first bus that said "Botafogo"--- this time, I knew it was a good one. Unfortunately, we were already hitting rush hour traffic. Another 45 minutes later, we arrived at the hostel. I flew upstairs, changed and ran out to grab the metro (WAY faster) to Downtown and try and salvage the day. As I descended into the station.....the platform was PACKED with people. I swear, I have NEVER seen it like that and I've been around quite a lot. I had to push, shove and throw elbows to get on the first train. I was squished on the side of an elderly gentlemen who apparently didn't believe in deodorant (despite having both arms up on the ceiling handrail) and was transporting something rotten in a plastic bag that was dripping on the floor. On my other side, there was a teenage couple engrossed in an exceptionally intense make-out session (I guess the subway is a turn-on??). 

Several torturous stations later, I arrived at my destination. I ran out and up the stairs to the archive. I practically slid into the reception desk (they had apparently waxed the floors right before I got there) and threw my info at them. The tallest of three girls at the desk (why they need three is beyond me) smugly told me that I couldn't go in. 

Me: Why? 

Bitchy Girl(BG): It's closed.

Me: Closed?? But it said it was open until 5:45 on the website! 

BG: Only if you're already inside.

Me: What? I don't understand.

BG: (long, huffy sigh) You can only enter up until 4:30; if you're already in you can stay until 5:45.

Me: But it's 4:30 now....

BG: No, it's 4:32.

Me: Oh, come on, please?? All I need to do is fill out one form so I can look at things on Wednesday. Really quick, I swear....

BG: No.

Me: There's no way?

BG: No; there's no one in there to help you.

Me: How can that be? They're open until 5:45....surely they must have SOMEONE in there. Like (start dropping names of people who I know)....

BG: No....come back tomorrow morning.

Me: (red in the face) Ok, fine.

As I power-walked back the metro to use up my totally-useless round-trip ticket, I fought back the urge to kick something. I mean, come one, this is BRAZIL! The people who invented "jeitinho" and all forms of official and unofficial short-cuts. Two minutes!!! I was probably there at 4:30 on the dot and chatted with BG for those two oh-so-important minutes. The other side of my brain went into guilt-mode. Well, you know, you chose to go to the beach instead of working. This is your fault. She is just doing her job and enforcing the rules-- you know that. Yes, damnit, I know. I grumbled to myself all the way back to the hostel.

Right before getting there I passed the mall; oh, I thought, I need to get some cash from the ATM and see if they have hair gel somewhere. So, I went inside. 

I decided to head to Lojas Americanas (The American Store) first, which is basically like a catch-all Wal-Martesque kind of place. Previously, I had literally been on, what had turned into, a quest for hair gel. Who knew? Brazilians do not use gel--- of any kind-- in their hair. The day before, I had tried virtually every pharmacy and grocery store in the surrounding 10 blocks to no avail. My bottle of spray gel was running dangerously low and I needed some kind of substitute. As I entered the hair products aisle I heard someone calling out "hey girl!". I, of course, turned around--- stupid! Immediately two girls come at me, speaking REALLY fast at the same time. Now, I consider myself pretty fluent but I had no frickin' idea what they were saying. I said "what?" a few times until just one girl spoke. I quickly realized they were trying to get me to sign up for a store credit card. I explained that I was not Brazilian and, therefore, could not sign up for it. Fast Talker, unfazed, launched into her schpeal.....

Fast Talker: Oh, but it's got a really low APR and you get points....

Me: I'm not a citizen. I can't. I don't have a permanent address or an ID number.

FT: Well, how long are you going to be here? A few months, right?

Me: No, about 2 weeks.

FT: Oh, that's ok! You can at least fill out the paper work and then you get this magazine here and if you sign up you get 10% off your purchase...

Me: But I'm only buying hair gel. That's not really worth it.

FT: Sure it is! This magazine here has....(blah, blah, blah)...

Me: Yeah, thanks, but I'm not really interested.

FT: But...

Me: No thanks.

(FT proceeds to follow me down the hair products aisle asking me questions about my stay in Brazil and explaining how great this magazine would be for me). Eventually, I said "no" enough times that she left. By this time, I'm highly annoyed. I get my damn hair gel (men's, incidentally, with a lovely musky fragrance--that's all they had) and head to the check-out. Long line....more annoyed...finally get up to pay. The checkout boy asks me credit or debit when I pull out my bankcard. "Credit". Ok, slide please. Ok. Your security code? What? I say. Suddenly, my annoyance has gotten the best of me and I can't think or speak straight in another language. This, of course, makes me nervous and I turn bright red. This makes me more self-conscious as the guy behind the counter begins to look at me like I'm an idiot savant trying to steal this damn hair gel. I finally mutter my code and he types it into the machine. BEEP! No go. DAMNIT!!!! After a few more tries, it went through and I power-walked back to the hostel. Annoyed, frustrated and feeling ridiculous and very guilty that it was after 5pm and I hadn't accomplished anything really....except for the damn hair gel.

Got to the hostel with one thing on my mind--dinner....I cooked some delicious pasta for myself and put on some music to cheer me up. As I drained the pasta, the lid came off the drainer....dinner a la dirty sink. Double damnit!! Now I have to go to the grocery store for more food....DAMN, I forgot to get money at the mall ATM....f*%@.....I give up..... :/

P'ed off!!!!!!!

Ok, there are many things in this world that get to me; I admit it. I try to be patient and kind and understanding at all times but, let's face it, we're all just humans. However, there are only a few things in this world that make me enraged. And one of those things just happened.

I have a lot of sympathy for working people. Particularly in the service sector. Customers can be a-holes and the jobs generally just stink. Therefore, I'm always polite and I always leave a tip (even when I probably shouldn't or don't want to). The people working at this hostel (the Botafogo Easy Hostel in Rio) are FANTASTIC. Let me say that again, the people who WORK at this hostel are AWESOME! Unlike the owner, Carlos, who is a complete waste of space. He should be shipped off to Guantanamo, in my opinion. 

Let me paint you a picture of life here at the hostel...

Me: Michelle (cleaning/housekeeping), could you please change the sheets on the bed and grab me a fresh towel. 

Michelle: Sure...what color do you want? We've got blue, yellow...

(after I walk away)

Carlos: MICHELLE!! Why didn't you change her sheets already?? The customer shouldn't have to ask! What's the matter with you? Are you stupid?

(This morning at breakfast)

Me: Good morning, Michelle!

Michelle: Good morning, Nicolette! Where are you off to today? (chatting for 5 mins)

(after I go upstairs)

Carlos: MICHELLE!! (always yelled, never spoken) You need to do this, this and this...now!

Michelle: (silent with head down); she turns to walk away....

Carlos: Don't you DO that! Don't you turn your back to me! I'm talking to you! You are not a child, are you?-- so don't act like one!

Michelle: (silent)

Incidentally, Michelle is Afro-Brazilian. Would it be easy to explain this as simple, completely unacceptable racism? Nope. He also treats the front desk people (all of whom are white) in the same manner. One guy already left because he couldn't take it anymore--- after only one month working here! It's ridiculous. 

Carlos is also a chauvinist pig. The weekend front desk girl, N, is leggy and really beautiful. He misses no opportunity to comment on how she looks to everyone-- behind her back and even sometimes to her face. It's sickening. I've asked around and there are no sexual harassment laws in place here so, our hands are tied.

I've been awful about keeping up with this blog during my time here but rage always inspires me to write. It also makes me want to act out. So, BOYCOTT THIS HOSTEL!!! Tell anyone you know that may consider traveling to Rio and staying here NOT to. This man deserves to starve. I would leave in protest but dick-boy has a "no refunds" policy here so, I can't afford to leave and stay anywhere else because I'm already paid up. Pisser for me. He's, of course, always friendly to me because I'm a customer but, since I speak Portuguese and most people who stay here don't, I hear the inside story from all the employees. I'm MAD damnit! Why must the world be this way?? Any suggestions on what I can do about this situation?

A Parallel Universe Called Brazil

Friday night was my first encounter with my fiancee, R's, cousin F. We had emailed back and forth for a few days setting up our outing for the night. Her friend, Raul, was turning 60 and having a get together at a local restaurant, Salsa e Cebolinha-- owned by a mutual friend named Conceicao-- and I was invited to come along. The night began slow enough with just a few people there and a round of Skol beer at 7pm. F was sweet, fun and always worried about me having a good time. I think I had TOO good a time. An unknown amount of beers, about 3 full meals, 10 dances, 50+ people and 6 hours later I was rather buzzed and completely exhausted. A friend of F's gave me a ride home since Flavia wanted to keep partying (she left around 3am)! 

During the course of the night, prior to becoming fuzzy over numerous glasses of beer, I told F about my plans to meet another cousin, D, the next afternoon and asked if she were going. She politely replied that she had not been invited. I quickly decided that changing the subject was in order. Being rather unfamiliar with the intimate details of Brazilian etiquette, I asked her what I should bring for the birthday of someone I didn't know-- wine, perhaps? She replied that, since he's older, retired and loaded, wine wouldn't be a good idea; considering he probably only drinks the most expensive kinds. Yipes, I thought. Ok....so, what would you suggest? I cautiously said. After thinking for a minute, she said, "Flowers. Pick a bouquet of whatever looks pretty. It will look sweet and thoughtful and flowers are pretty universal as a gift." Cool.

I decided it was okay that my weekend was getting a little out of control since, during the week, I never go out and it's all about work. So, Saturday afternoon I went to meet D. He was turning 87 that day and had invited a few friends and close family to have brunch at 1pm at his condo in Ipanema. D had kindly arranged for a taxi to pick me up at the hostel and bring me to his place. So, I waited....and waited....until 1:30pm when, even according to Brazilian standards, the taxi was late. The girl at the front desk called another one and I arrived, not so fashionably, late around 2pm. When I walked in, it was like a parallel universe. People were demurely chatting over cucumber finger sandwiches and red wine while sporting dock shoes and pearls. Not only was D's place enormous, it was very lavish. I suddenly felt hickish and sorely under-dressed. He greeted me at the door and, after wishing him a "happy birthday", I presented him with my flowers. As I explained that, since we hadn't met, I didn't know what to get him and had been advised that flowers might be nice, he signaled the maid to "take them". Damnit....a second major social mistake within 24 hrs. Oh well, I couldn't be offended. He was just the sweetest old man ever; he led me around the room and introduced me and kept checking to make sure I was doing okay and having a good time.

He led me down the hall into a small living room where he introduced me to all his kids and a few grandkids (friends were in the main living area at the entrance). Wow....he considers me family already? His sons I and P were wonderful and super-interesting. P makes documentaries about Brazilian social inequalities. Naturally, after hearing about what I do, we hit it off and got into a major discussion (with his wife as well) about race, class, etc. Nerd stuff. After about 4o mins of chatting, we were called by M.H. (D's wife) into the main area for brunch. I ended up at a table with a guy named P and his wife. The conversation was brilliant until they heard that I study race. They then began to tell me what a "social problem" black people are. WHAT?? How they don't want to work, study or do anything productive so things like the new affirmative action policies in Brazil are doomed to fail. These policies are also a form of reverse-racism against people who study hard, get good grades, are good workers and deserve that spot (i.e. white, elite people). The wife admitted openly that she was "a racist" but countered that, in Brazil, everyone is (ummm, no). For example, she said that she has no problem talking or interacting with people of color but, if one wanted to marry her daughter, "No way". During this Twilight Zone conversation, they continually asked me, "Don't you agree?" I constantly ignored the question. Ah, rich people; how you amaze me! 

Sunday night was another beer-fest with F. For all her wild partying, I feel more like myself with her. She's very motherly and always open, which makes me comfortable to speak my mind. This time, she took me to a little hole-in-the-wall bar (literally) called "Tabuleiro da Baiana" for a samba party. I drank WAY too much again, danced samba all night and generally had a marvelous time. F and her best friend "A Baiana" (I can't remember her real name) took me to eat at the Cervantes Restaurant, which is apparently rather famous here. They make an awesome sandwich, I gotta say. After dropping me off at the hostel, they reminded me of more social events that I "must" attend on 10th, 19th and 20th of the month. I was exhausted and rather dehydrated all day at the archive. Thank God I have tonight to recover and sleep!

This weekend was truly like falling into some strange Brazilian vortex. Racism, dancing, 100 year-old red wine from France, roast beef sandwiches at 1am....how will I ever balance living in Rio and working here??