Vacations in Brazil pt. 2

AOG, Praia do Forte

After a 9 hour flight we arrived in Bahia. We discovered that the back of the plane was not too crowded and although we had chosen window and isle, we actually flew separately most of the way, across the isle, with at least one spare seat next to us for extra comfort.

It took about an hour to cross through customs and immigration. All the passengers were quite shocked at the slow speed of the process and complained from the start. Me included.

We left the baggage hall and were greeted by representatives from our tour operator. There was a girl dressed in full Bahiaiana gear smiling and waving at people. Too bad we were all tired, hungry, and fed up with waiting to reciprocate her niceness.

We got on the bus and were told that because there were two groups, we would be unloading the first group at their hotel first. This meant that the journey would take even longer. And it did.

The drive from the outskirts of Bahia airport to Praia do Forte was slow, although our driver did swerve about 3 times to avoid an accident, and uneventful. The Tour rep tried his best to be nice and friendly, but failed miserably.

He offered to exchange our euros for reales explaining that he would give us a better rate than the hotel would: 2.50 to the hotel’s 2.40.

My partner changed some money and told me when he got back that the guy’s niceness disappeared as soon as he turned the mic off. The mask has fallen off, were the words used.

Not an easy job to do, I agreed, but then, why not hire someone who is actually nice, and not just pretending to be nice? My partner agreed.

The first surprise of the day was the fact that it is Winter in Brazil, which means it gets dark around 5pm.

We finally got to the hotel after being on the bus long enough to snooze for a while, tired, depleted of energy, and hungry.

They told us to leave the luggage, tag it with our room number, and scoot over asap to the restaurant before it closes.

Second surprise of the journey. Surely this happens with enough regularity that the restaurant should stay open a bit longer?

Regardless, we get to the restaurant where the remnants of the evening’s dinner were awaiting our hungry mouths.

Afterwards, and yes, we overate, we walked to our rooms, passing by the hotel’s disco, blasting as it was, dance music and drunken guests. We hoped our room was nowhere near that racket, and swore to demand a different room if it was.

Luckily for us, it wasn’t. it was on a the first floor, and we could hear the sea from the balcony. I think for me the vacation started that moment, looking out into the palm-strewn golf park outside our balcony, with the moon shining over a slightly overcast sky.

Since we could hear the sea, we wanted to see how close to it we were. We left the room and went on a mini evening excursion of the hotel’s grounds.

The beach was a two minute walk from the room. As we got closer, the sea got louder.

There is something very romantic about the sound of the sea at night. Also dangerous. Who knows what sea creatures are out in force at night. I really liked our first experience of Brazil.

We went to sleep as soon as we got back to the room. We had an appointment with the Tour rep at 10 AM the next day, and we needed to have breakfast first.

Beggars, artists and Romanians

AOG, Madrid

Last Sunday, I went to a friend's birthday dinner. My improv teacher's boyfriend was hosting a dinner in honor of his turning 30. At least I think that's how old he was turning!

We ate Gnocchi with 2 sauces, and then played a few table games, not without absenting ourselves (Paula, Ana her friend and I) to buy some cigarettes and gossip a bit. Innocent gossip.

When we returned, after scouring the streets of northern Madrid in search of an open bar with a working cigarette machine, we got back to a group of men desiring to play Karaoke on the X-Box.

And so we did.

Afterwards, we did that very Spanish of things, we talked. For hours.

At one point we were discussing Madrid's beggars. How some of these people are part and parcel of the city, and how they have certain areas where they work.

The conversation was odd and peppered with strange protagonists. Some I had knowledge of; others, I had never seen. I had heard of the gypsy thalidomide woman with deformed arms and legs who sits on cardboard and displays herself in all her glory, expecting society to take pity on her.

Then there is the American black musician who plays the saxophone on Callao square, off Madrid's Gran Vía, and right in front of the FNAC store (famous for music, books, DVDs and electronic equipment). As you walk past, he will ask you for money, regardless of whether he is playing a tune or not. He just asks as you walk past. Odd I think.

Then there was the lady beggar who got up from her spot, started to walk up the street, then, stopped, shook her hips slightly, let drop a huge turd, then just continued on her way.

Her, I'd never seen. But I have encountered the small army of Romanian gypsies who pretend to be deaf mutes and walk around with a printed sheet of paper and ask (or rather gesture) for your money. They pretend to belong to an NGO.

They I find a little reprehensible since genuine NGOs carry out the same exercise and have to meet people who have already been fooled once. They have even been on the news a couple of times. And yet, you can see them in central Madrid daily. Pretending to suffer from a disability. Not nice. Not fair. But then, neither is their life probably...

So we continued to trade stories all night long, moving from people with mental problems, to those who hold no sway over the public´s minds.

Today, I was traveling home from giving a class, and saw a young guy doing some juggling at a traffic light. He didn't seem to be doing all that well. Perhaps drivers are not too keen to support struggling artists.

Last night, two of my dinner partners were discussing their life in Madrid. What they do on their spare time, and how spare time is of the necessity. One of them, the lead singer in the band, mentioned how he payed for singing lessons once a week- 38 Euros per hour.

He mentioned in passing that he was going to stop working at the hotel chain where he's been working as accountant for 2 years, and how he was entitled to 8 month's unemployment benefit. "And now, with more free time, I can concentrate more on my singing", he declared.

"If you are in Madrid, you always have to be doing something to further your career. You can't spend your life working in a bar. If you are going to do that, stay in your home town", said Ana- working actress.

I admired them both. I am always glad to be in the presence of talented people.

Then today, I was brought back down to earth when I saw the juggler. I wonder how many lawyers, or teachers or pilots have to moonlight to make their dreams come true?
Why is it that only artists are expected to do other jobs and work twice as hard as anyone else to carry out their vocation?