Friday, December 31, 2010

(invisible) Mountain climbing cats

(update) I have since been back with a decent camera and here is a new video where the cats described below are actually no longer invisible.


I'm staying at my uncle's in Rio. The apartment has a view of Aterro do Flamengo from the living room and of the Morro da Viuva (widow's mountain/peak/hill) from the back bedrooms. I've been working out of one of the back bedrooms for a few days now and Morro da Viuva has kept me company just outside the window while I worked. It's a great rock!  To my surprise I have discovered that there are cats living on this rock. I've seen between 6 to 8 cats roaming around the rock face.  My window is on the 15th floor plus two levels of garage and a playground, so technically it's the 18th floor. Cats roam around the at rock window level!!  I don't have a video camera with me, so the video below is horrible, but in the center of the shot there is a yellow cat who had been napping on a ledge just outside my window and decided to climb down. It's hard to see, actually it's almost impossible to see, sorry.  You'll have to take my word for it that there is a cat in the shot.






Here is another impossible to see cat, this one is black also mid-shot, there is a little more contrast because he's black.  He's the black spot on the right. Next time I'll bring a video camera....



This one gives you a better sense of the size of this rock and where these cats live. Yes I said cats! There were cats in these videos... really there were, trust me.

Thursday, December 30, 2010

Brazilian Christmas is out to get me

Brazil is a tropical country.  Always has been. Christmas in Brazil is smack dab in the middle of summer, a tropical summer.  Temperatures hover around 32C and 38C (89-100F), needless to say there is not one single solitary flake of snow anywhere in the country.  It’s a large country but you can look on the highest mountain top and the lowest valley, you’re not going to find snow. Not one spec of it.  Brazil also has a varied culture based on African and European ancestries and Brazilians in general are proud of their heritages and traditions.  So explain something to me, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.  Why is this the Christmas decoration in every single shopping center in the country?





Why does Santa wear a long winter coat and warm winter hat while dripping with perspiration and cursing Christmas, his damned job and probably every child who sits on his lap? There are no candy canes here people! There is no candy cane tradition, Brazilians have never seen an actual candy cane.

Somewhere along the way American and European shopping centers discovered that Christmas decorations increase sales.  Brazilian shopping centers imported the concept along with the temperature and country inappropriate decorations and presto.  Here we are. 

Personally I’m convinced it’s a plot to annoy me.  Yes, me personally.  I’m the only one who seems to mind the ice skating polar bears and snow sleds, everyone else thinks they are great.  Don’t you just hate it when an entire holiday conspires to annoy you personally?  Well I’ll just show it!  Next year I’m going somewhere with snow and Brazilians can photograph their dancing penguin decorations and watch their culture sell-out and deteriorate in the name of higher shopping center sales. There are those who say I should simply not care and enjoy the holiday, obviously those are just crazy people who don’t understand that the Brazilian Christmas is out to get me. Next year I'm going to get a snow shovel, just like Mel Edison in Prisoner of Second Avenue and I'll show them. I'll show them all, bwa ha ha.

glitz and glamour

I’m bored! You probably look at me and think my life is all glamour and beauty…Ha! Let me tell you something, it ain’t!  Sure I look great, sure I cost a pretty penny and everyone is always so careful around me.  Apparently I break.  I watched a plate break the other day, horrible. So now I’m bored and afraid someone might bump the table and break me. Bored and afraid that’s my life.  Not to mention this ridiculous pose I have to hold - get this - for the rest of my freaking life!  Bored, bored bored. 

The phone’s never bored, but what a gossip… besides there are four of them in the house… I’m unique.  Unique, bored and afraid, yep that’s me.  Hand-painted, yesiree bob, every inch of me. Every time they reach for that stupid gossipy phone I think they’re going to knock me down. 

Take it from me, glitz and glamour are not all they seem to be. Most of the time you’re just bored and afraid.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

Porto Alegre

My mailing address has only read "Porto Alegre" three years, two years during high school for one year recently. All of the rest of my four decades my mailing address has been elsewhere in the world. So it’s surprising that every time an airplane takes off from Porto Alegre, ripping me out of the city as it climbs, there are tears in my eyes.  It never fails, as I watch Salgado Filho airport out of the plane’s window and the plane takes flight, as it distances itself from the ground, it rends my soul.  There is a bit of my soul that must remain behind because it can exist nowhere else. It's childhood memories and a hundred years of buried ancestors, it's long summer days of now faded vacations and the lesson that a loving carefree childhood must give way to whatever this is that I take on the plane with me. The soul that is mine today rips apart from the bit that must remain behind and comes with me on the airplane, and I cry. The soul I leave behind sits there, rooted to that spot on earth and whimpers, calling me to return. Over the decades I have learned to live without that piece of soul, over the years I have heard it call to me and I have felt the pain of a soul wanting to be whole again. But humans learn to live with pain and this was no different, I could almost forget I was in constant pain. And when I've answered the call and returned, my soul reunited with that bit of soul that remained rooted, whimpering and malnourished in the Porto Alegre soil and the pain subsided.

Now I know that leaving Porto Alegre will kill me some day.  Not a quick instant death, but rather a slow prolonged wearying of the soul that drains the life out of a person. And I understand more of a self destructive nature that plans to someday leave this place.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

The founder of WikiLeaks is under arrest for having sex without a condom

Here is what CNN is not saying or stressing. American media is censoring the story to the extreme extent that Twitter will not trend #wikileaks and CNN accuses Assange of 'rape' without qualifying the charges in any way.  The implication is that Assange is guilty of  'rape' as defined by the American legal system which is always an extremely violent crime involving non-consequential sex. By accusing Assange of 'rape' without qualifying the story, CNN and other American Media are painting him with the same brush as violent criminals that are little more than animals. That is not the case. That CNN chooses to paint such a picture shows the extent of the decline of the American press.  Unbiased and free press no longer exists!!! DON'T KID YOURSELF THAT IT DOES.   Here is what the international media is qualifying the story, information that is not readily available to mainstream American audience.

The founder of WikiLeaks is under arrest for having sex without a condom
Swedish law considers unprotected sex a type of sexual violence.
For having had sexual relations with two Swedish women without a condom, WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange now faces sexual violence and rape charges and awaits for possible deportation to Sweden where the charges were filed.

The case spurred public curiosity not only because it involves a famous defendant, who is hated by many powerful people, but also for involving a complex system of laws.

Assange’s actions, based on testimony from the his two ex-lovers, were interpreted by the legal system as "rape, sexual abuse and illegal coercion", as stated by the Swedish prosecution.  Both he and the women state, however, that sex was consensual.  The only problem was the absence of the preservative, which would have been requested by both women, but denied by the Australian.

Having unprotected sex in Sweden is punishable by a minimum of two years in prison for rape.  According to Assange’s lawyer, in a declaration made in August when the accusations were made, the term used to classify the crime is a "target for mockery” and “dramatically” damages the reputation of the accused.  All of this under a legal system that is a benchmark of modernity.

In both relationships, Assange had problems wearing a condom.

Criticism aside, one of the Swedish women with whom Assange was involved says that the condom broke during the relations, according to the British newspaper Daily Mail.  In this case, under the laws of the country, consensual sex that starts with a condom and ends without it become a type of non-consensual sex.

The other lover alleges that twice she had relations with the founder of WikiLeaks, once with a condom and once without.  That time she requested the use of a condom, but Assange would have refused.  Again the law is on the woman’s side.

The lawyer for the women denies a political ploy.

For the Australian, his arrest is part of a political ploy designed to prevent the publication of secret documents by WikiLeaks.  The lawyer for the women, Claes Borgstrom, states that his clients are not involved in any sort of conspiracy against Assange.

Borgstrom also said that the Swedish women’s statement is plausible and that there is a great chance that Swedish justice will accuse Assange, if he is extradited and heard in testimony in the country.

Assange surrendered to the police in London and should be under arrest until December 14, when he will again be deposed.  He stated that he will fight his extradition.

Translation of a news article published by R7 Notícias Brazilian online newspaper on 12/09/2010
 

Saturday, December 4, 2010

Brazilian oil and the 1967 Palestinian border

Well if you live in the world and occasionally read the news you might have heard that yesterday (Dec 3) Lula, the Brazilian president, declared that Brazil recognizes the Palestinian state respecting the 1967 borders. Specifically [translated]:
“The recognition of the Palestinian state is part of the Brazilian conviction that a negotiation process resulting in two States that live in peace and security is the best path to peace in the Middle East (…) Brazil will always be ready to assist as necessary.”
Furthermore, the Brazilian government stressed that the announcement will not damage its relations with Israel, which have never been so strong.

You probably think I’m going to comment on the wisdom of this decision and saturate this post with impassioned personal opinions and convictions… wrong. This issue has nothing to do with ideologies, peace, or even the Israeli Palestinian conflict. Nothing at all. It has everything to do with oil, Brazilian oil.

A few years back Brazil discovered billions of barrels of offshore oil, it is called the Pre-salt layer.  Petrobras, the Brazilian oil company was state owned until a few administrations ago when a large portion was privatized. Now the Pre-Salt oil belongs to Brazil and a few international oil companies like Shell, BP etc, but still Brazil stands to change its fortune with the discovery.  Recently another phenomenal reserve was found, in even deeper waters, and these reserves had not been earmarked or negotiated to any other country or company, they belong entirely to Brazil. Jackpot. So how is Palestine’s 1967 borders and deep water Brazilian oil related? Simple: Iran.

How you may ask.  Consider several factors:
  • Lula’s 8 year administration has sought to move the Brazilian economy forward and away from the historically tight grasp of the United States. 
  • Brazil does not have the technology to explore deep water oil, and it would take years to develop such technologies.
  • The US is not willing to provide the technology unless it is once again invited to sit at feast.
Brazil’s problem then is how to acquire this technology without once again kowtowing to the US?

Brazil had to find a partner for the technology it needs, a partner that is not simply a mouthpiece for the US.  Countries like United Arab Emirates, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, occupied Iraq, etc, could not be relied upon for a partnership that excluded the US.  A moment of thought and you will see that the choices are very few.  Recently Brazil has been grooming its relationship with Iran.  Sakineh Mohammadi Ashtiani, the Iranian woman sentenced to be stoned to death for adultery was publicly offered asylum by the Brazilian government.  That is, until Iran thanked Lula for his concern and told him to butt out.  There have been other signs of a relationship between the countries, a relationship groomed to acquire Iranian technologies to explore the Pre Salt layer.  The latest indication is the recognition of the Palestinian state.

Today Mahmoud Abbas threatened to dissolve the Palestinian Authority. 

“(…)and lobby the United Nations to recognize Palestinian statehood, bypassing negotiations entirely. "I cannot accept to remain the president of an authority that doesn't exist."

Why did he Abbas make such a statement? did you guess ‘oil’? Here is how the dots connect:  If Brazil now recognizes the Palestinian state in the UN, it will have more power to pass. Brazil recognized the Palestinian state because it was pressured to do so by Iran, so that Iran will provide Brazil with the technology to explore the pre-salt layer which contains… yes OIL.

Oil baby.  It’s all about the oil. It has nothing to do with peace in the region, political and religious ideologies, history or any such thing. Only oil. But when you watch the interviews and the news they will all tell you that it’s in pursuit of peace in the region and the well being of the world’s population, saving the environment, stopping global warming, leaving a better legacy for our children and saving the whales. So maybe it actually is all about the bullshit…  I’m off to put some cow manure in my tank and see how far I can drive.  You can draw your own conclusions!

Monday, November 29, 2010

Bats! Bats everywhere

As I mentioned in a previous post Everyone's gonne batty, there are bats downtown Porto Alegre.  It's against the law to kill them.  These are insect eating bats, no chance of mosquitoes tonight, and this was shot out my kitchen window.  Anything you see moving in this shot is a bat, don't just focus on the foreground, look at the hundreds of bats in the sky in the background.  This goes on for hours and they make a high pitched chirping noise that can be heard through closed windows.  And you thought I was exaggerating. 




Saturday, November 27, 2010

bridging the gap



... Sometimes I wonder if I deserve a dog...

BTW she wanted a fly buzzing on the window

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Great victory for the 9/11 terrorists

What was the ultimate goal of the 9/11 terrorists? To cause fear, to make Americans feel unsafe in their very homes.  Well they were incredibly successful weren’t they?  The latest proof comes in the form of body scanners and sexual molestation by TSA employees. If you are an American traveler you now have three choices 1. subject yourself to the humiliation of a revealing x-ray of your body, along with all the health risks x-rays may entail; if you refuse your next choice is 2. an extremely intrusive pat down by a TSA employee, the sort of molestation you would report as a sexual assault under any other circumstances; or if you refuse that 3. face legal charges for maintaining your dignity.

Well it seems to me that the 9/11 terrorists were victorious. Americans have given up their liberty, privacy and even their right to peaceful assembly due to the actions of those men.  If that’s not a victory I don’t know what is.

By giving up our dignity, liberty, privacy and blindly kowtowing to the demands implemented without thought or planning by a government that boldfaced lied in order to go to war, we have in fact surrendered before the terrorists.

I’m guessing the Taliban somewhere now have an altar where they daily praise the TSA.



If these days strip searching a five year old boy doesn't cross the line or offend our sensibilities ask yourself who won? Each time we forfeit our liberties without a second thought, the terrorists have won. And by the way think about this: Anywhere else in our society a man running his hand up and down the inner thigh of a half naked five year old boy would be regarded as child abuse, but here it's perfectly acceptable. It's not abuse and it's not terror against the father of the child who had no choice but stand there and watch his son be molested. If that boy ever runs into a pedophile, all the animal will have to say is "it's just like at the airport son" to get full cooperation from his victim. But they are keeping us safe from terrorists... who exactly are the terrorists?
Those Who Sacrifice Liberty For Security Deserve Neither. ....  Benjamin Franklin

the pope's twisted logic

According to the church the only occasion sex is not sinful is between a man and a woman, who were married in the catholic church having gone through some of the holy sacraments which include baptism, confirmation, confession and then marriage. Furthermore, the married couple can only have sex with the intent of procreating; any other reason for having sex is immoral, sinful and irresponsible. Working from the assumption that the entire world follows those edicts, the church has never condoned any sort of birth control. Until now. As you may have read recently the pope had the following to say:

"There could be single cases that can be justified, for instance when a prostitute uses a condom, and this can be a first step towards a moralization, a first assumption of responsibility, to develop again the awareness of the fact that not all is allowed and that one cannot do everything one wants," Benedict says in the book, "Light of the World: The Pope, the Church, and the Signs of the Times."

If in this man’s fucked-up logic condom use is justified when it will assist the user to develop a “first assumption of responsibility, develop again the awareness of the fact that not all is allowed and that one cannot do everything one wants” then it is reasonable to conclude that those conditions will exist whenever two or more people are having sex that does not comply with the restrictions stipulated by the church. According to the pope anyone having sex outside a strictly compliant catholic marriage with the intent of procreating must therefore use a condom in order to develop a “first assumption of responsibility, develop again the awareness of the fact that not all is allowed and that one cannot do everything one wants”

But if you’re in a strictly compliant catholic marriage and not trying to have another baby, you’re just shit out of luck, sorry.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Have you ever wanted something you could almost taste it?

Saskia wants a fly that's trying to get out of the window.



have you ever wanted something this much? well apparently whining, wagging and growling will not work, try something different.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

i didn't mean to call Bush a lying piece of shit...

I love the internet. I love it has made the world a tiny little place. Occasionally I look at the statistics from my blog just to see where in the world readers are and I’m fascinated by the fact that people around the world somehow find my blog. People from places I’ve been and places I have yet to see, all read my blog.

Yesterday, for the first time someone from Washington D.C. accessed my blog. My Twitter account links directly to my blog and it just so happens that yesterday on Twitter I called George W. Bush a “lying piece of shit”. More precisely, this was the tweet:

Bush lying, says ex-German leader – politicalticker.blogs.cnn.com/2010/11/10/ex-… < Bush lying? the piece of shit has been lying since birth, how is this news CNN?

Now I’m flattering myself that some governmental institution monitors such comments and accessed my blog to ascertain whether I am some kind of threat or not. Of course it’s just speculation on my part, but just in case it’s true I would like to take this opportunity to set the record straight:

Dear CIA, I didn’t really mean that George W. Bush is a lying piece of shit, I'm sorry if I gave that impression. What I meant is: George W. Bush is an enormous pile of steaming runny dog shit on a hot sidewalk and  that he lies constantly and has the IQ of a lobotomized fruit fly!

That’s all I really meant. Just to set the record straight... I would hate to be misunderstood

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Time Traveler in 1928 Chaplin Premiere

“When all other contingencies fail, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” – Sherlock Holmes

The internet is all a buzz with the video of a woman walking down the street talking on a cell phone… in 1928. The fact is that there is a video of a premiere of Chaplin’s movie The Circus that shows a person dressed as a woman holding her hand up to her ear and talking.
In all fairness, before I opine one way or the other, here is the original video with a pitch from the guy who spotted the discrepancy, he concludes that it as a time traveler who is talking on a cell-phone-like device.



I like Sherlock Holmes, he’s one of my favorite characters, and I agree with his statement that ‘when all other contingencies fail, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” That is reasonable and logical to me. My point of contention is that in this day and age people think they have considered all other contingencies and the only thing that was left is “time traveler with a cell phone”. Here are some contingencies that were not considered:

  • Alien talking to the mother ship
  • Resident of the lost city of Atlantis
  • 1928 secret government stealth airplane, no wait that’s a different conspiracy
  • Maxwell Smart’s father in drag talking on a shoe phone.
  • Alien trying to talk to the mother ship, not getting through and mumbling “for this quality I could have AT&T”
  • Clairvoyant who saw into the future and is just messing with us.

And here is mine: It is an old woman, or a man dressed like an old woman. She is either cold or has seen the camera and does not want to be filmed so she holds her scarf up over her face. It’s a hefty sort of garment and she holds it up above her ear and covers her face shielding it form wind and prying lenses. You can see the black scarf pass through her hand drape around her neck and fall over her shoulder on the other side. Since it is a thick garment her hand wraps around it as she holds it up in a position similar to holding a cell phone.



It fascinates me that even CNN picked up the story. Well that is not so much a testament to the story’s veracity, but rather to the complete descent of CNN into the realm of credibility previously occupied only by FoxNews.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

trust me, it's a typo

“Hello, is this Bubah’s printing services?”

“Yes sir, what can I do you for?”

“It’s about this order of letterhead you printed for me"

“Yes sir, what’s the problem?”

“There are a couple of typos in the header.”

“That’s impossible, we always use a spell checker on all our jobs, and if there were any mistakes I’m sure it would have fixed them. No job gets by without the spell checker, ‘Quality first’ is our motto!”

“I’m looking at my own name and I ought to know whether it’s wrong!”

“Is your name Ryder?”

Yes, my name is Ryder, but my first name is Mick, with an M, not a D.  And just so you know, my partner is coming down to your offices to express his displeasure in person.  Later on today, when you are filing the inevitable restraining order, you should know that his name is spelled F-U-C-H-S.  There is no K.

Saturday, October 23, 2010

too often it goes without saying


That I didn’t mean it goes without saying.
That I would take it back if I could, goes without saying.
That I am sorry certainly goes without saying.
That the fault is mine, that too goes without saying.
Things that go without saying should never remain unsaid

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Irene: Renoir's poor little rich girl

I have a replica of a Renoir painting called Irène Cahen d'Anvers. It’s an artagraph , a process where a computer scans the original and reproduces it down to the brushstrokes on canvas. Her angelic face and verdure background speak of happy, carefree times, of childish games and a loving fulfilled existence surrounded by beauty. For the better part of a decade she has personified idyllic existence on my wall. And during that time I have idealized her life as having been as beautiful as her portrait. So certain was I that her story was beautiful that I researched her life. Now I wish I hadn’t.

The painting is simply signed Renoir ’80, but it is famous enough that I knew her name before she was mine. Irene was 11 years old when she posed for Renoir and the portrait was completed in two sittings. She was the daughter of Louis Cahen d'Anvers a wealthy Jewish banker born in Belgium in 1837, died in Paris in 1922. Her mother was Louise de Morpurgo (1845-1926). Irene had two brothers Robert (1871-1931), and Charles (1879-1957), and two sisters Elisabeth (1874-1944) and Alice (1876-1965).

Renoir's Blue et Rose - Irene's sisters Elisabeth and Alice
Renoir painted a portrait of Irene and another of her sisters, that painting is now known as Rose et Blue and also as les demoiselles Cahen d'Anvers. And I think is equally famous and equally priceless as Irene. Elisabeth is blue and Alice is rose. When Renoir completed the canvases the Cahen d'Anvers hated them passionately and relegated them to the service area of the private hotel in Paris they called home. To add insult to injury they were late in paying Renoir for his services. A price had not been agreed upon before the work was completed and Renoir received 1,500 francs for the portraits. Even though it was more money than he had ever seen, it was significantly less than normally paid by this class of client for such services.


Irene's 1st husband  Moïse de Camondo
Irene grew up in that wealthy aristocratic environment and when she was 19, on October 15, 1891 she married Moïse de Camondo. Who had arrived in Paris from the Ottoman Empire (Trurkey) at the age of 9 with his father (Nissim) and uncle (Abraham-Behor) who came to develop the family’s financial affairs in Europe. They were extremely wealthy bankers. Camondo was an avid 18 century French art collector, a style very much in vogue which probably explains the Irene’s family’s disdain for Renoir’s work.

Irene and her husband have two children. Nissim, named after his grandfather, is born in 1892, and Beatrice, born in 1894. Irene leaves her husband in 1902 and he keeps the children. She converts to Christianity and marries Count Charles Sampieri in 1903, who apparently headed her husband’s stables. That marriage also ends in 1924.


Beatrice and her brother Nissim the year he died
Irene’s son is a fighter pilot in WWI, and in September 1917, at the age of 25, he dies in an air combat at Meurthe-et-Moselle. When her ex-husband dies in 1935, most of his fortune goes to his (and Irene’s) daughter, Beatrice. He also bequeaths his Paris home and all of his art collection to establish the Musée Nassim de Camondo in honor of his son. Beatrice, Irene’s only surviving child marries Léon Reinach and has two children Fanny born in 1920 and Bertrand, born in 1923.

WWII starts and Europe is no longer safe for Jews. Irene’s sister Elizabeth (the one in the blue ribbon) had converted to Christianity 50 years prior, but her Jewish roots are discovered and she dies somewhere on her way to Auschwitz. Irene’s daughter, Beatrice and her two grandchildren die in Auschwitz in 1943, as does Beatrice’s husband. The Camondos, or the Reincach as they were, arrived in Auschwitz on November 25, 1944 and were immediately gassed along with 914 other people. Irene’s marriage to Charles Sampieri, her name change in 1903 and early conversion to Christianity apparently kept her safe from the Nazis and spared her the fate of her family. She spent the war years living very simply and quietly in a Parisian apartment.


In 1946, Renoir’s painting’ La petite fille au ruban bleu’ (little girl in a blue ribbon) is recognized by the model who sat for it. Irene manages to reclaim the stolen painting she hated and in 1949 she sells it at a Parisian gallery to Georg Bürhle. Today it can be seen at the Bürhle Foundation in Zurich.

Irene was the sole heir of her daughter’s estate. She inherited the Camondo fortune. She lived to be 91 and some say she squandered the entire fortune. I say that she simply discovered early in her life that money isn’t worth much and she spent the rest of her days spending it in search of some measure of happiness. She died in 1963.

p.s Pierre-Auguste Renoir was born 25 February 1841 and died 3 December 1919
Irene's family

Thursday, October 14, 2010

the udder ring


The Cow Parade is in Porto Alegre. Whenever I walk past a cow I stop to take a gander. Apparently a significant number of the cows has been vandalized. One was even stolen and returned the next day. It’s a sad reality in Brazil that there is no pride of ownership of public property: “If it’s public, it belongs to no one and I’m entitled to deface it.” Or perhaps there is too much pride of ownership of public property: “if it’s public, it is also mine and I’m entitled to deface it.” It depends on your point of view. But the result is always the same.

Walking by praça Julio de Castilho this weekend I stopped to look at the cow displayed there (pictured). It was a hip, modern sort of cow, it wore glasses, leg warmers and a nipple ring. - well, for the sake of accuracy, let’s call it an udder ring - The cow was intact except for the udder ring, which had been pried off and tossed on the pavement. I replaced the ring because first, it seemed like the proper thing to do and second, because how often do you get to say you replaced an udder ring?

But I walked away with two questions: what sort of person puts an udder ring on a cow? And the infinitely more disturbing question, what sort of person pulls it off?



The work is called: A Vaca Foi pro Beco by: Andrey Damo, sponsored by: Mumu, on display at Praça Julio de Caslilho in Porto Alegre. Here is a link to all the cows http://www.cowparade.com.br/poa/galeria.php

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

hanging out in Brazil

It’s a foregone conclusion that Brazilian women wear bras and that lingerie stores in Brazil sell bras. It’s an obvious assumption that you can come to Brazil and purchase a bra. You shouldn’t even have to speak Portuguese to purchase a bra, you simply enter the store find a bra you like, find your size and… Well that’s where it gets complicated. In order to actually find a bra your size you must, without exception or deviation, be a cup size B. Only B cup sized bras are sold in Brazil. You probably think I exaggerate. But I don’t mean that most bras sold in Brazil are B cups, I actually mean that ONLY B cups are available for sale in Brazil, exclusively! If you are a 44C you have to buy a 46B or 48B and make do. In fact, if you are Brazilian, not knowing any better, you will naturally think that 48B is your bra size. If you are a 46D you are doomed to live your entire life stuffed into a B cup. If you are a DD your only option is a B cup! I kid you not!

Of course I had questions for the poor, blameless, unwitting sales ladies. In the first store she told me that she had, in the past, seen a few bras that had the letter C instead of the normal B, but she didn’t have any of those in the store. She had a hidden talent for expression and managed to verbally italicize the word ‘those’. In the next store the sales lady didn’t know bras came with any other letter than B, she didn’t know B was the cup size, she simply thought it was a letter they put on bra tags. Mind you, the word for bra in Portuguese does not start with the letter ‘b’.

There was a quick piece on a variety show about Brazilian women wearing the wrong bras. What do you think the show was about? Did you guess wrong bra sizes? You guessed wrong. Apparently Brazilian women wear the wrong bras not because they all wear B cups, but because when they dress they choose strapped bras when they should have gone strapless, or regular when they should have gone push up, colors, textures etc. Nothing about cup sizes! Cup sizes are simply nonexistent in Brazil, no one has ever heard of the concept.

I miss California at a whole different level now.

This blog was brought to you by the letters A, C, and D, and by the number zero.

Monday, October 4, 2010

Everyone's gone batty

Living in downtown Porto Alegre is not for the faint hearted. I refer to you to the “human sausage” post for more evidence, and if that is not enough by all means read on. One evening sitting in the living room I heard a high pitched squeak sound from the service area. After much searching I discovered it was coming from outside. Just outside the window, flying between the buildings were hundreds of small insect eating bats. They were making the high pitched noise. I stood at the window and watched them for some time, they were very beautiful. Apparently some high ranking official also thought they were beautiful sometime in the past because there is a law against killing them. At first it sounds like a great law, it keeps the insect population under control and preserves nature. And I love nature. More precisely: I love nature outside my house, nature inside my house, not so much.

Here is how the Great Bat Alarm of 2010 went down:
Me: there are bats in the air conditioner in your room.
Mom: there are no bats.
Me: there are bats in the air conditioner.
Mom: there are no bats! Stop that.
Me: there are bats in the air conditioner.
Mom: that’s nice dear, off you go.
Saskia: Sniff Sniff. Bark Bark Bark!! Can I please, pleeeaaase have the bats in the air conditioner? Please? Just one?
Mom: What do you mean there are bats in the air conditioner? That’s awful, why didn’t you say something? We have to do something about that!
Me: *sigh*

There really is no point in killing a bat that has nested in your air-conditioning unit, if you kill the current resident, someone else will soon move in. And there is really not much point in killing bats that move into the box that houses the mechanism for your roll-up shades, another solution had to be found. The bats moved in, partied all night and apparently were all male because they drank lots of beer and peed indiscriminately all over the place. Or so it seemed based on the smell emanating from the roll-up shade mechanism.

The air conditioning manufacturer had an off the shelf solution for bats inside the units. They came out, cleaned the units, installed an external housing around each unit and presto. Bats-be-gone. By the way, the housing was installed by dangling a man by his ankles out the window. Harnesses? We don’t need no stinking harnesses!

(This is the second time he dangled, he was further out of the window the first time around, but I didn’t have a camera.)

The roll up shade manufacturer said: “Bats? Yes, that’s a common problem downtown. Learn to live with it, have a nice day, call us if you need anything else. On second thought, don’t call us, we don’t really care.”

I devised, what I think is an ingenious solution to the problem. Mom found a guy who was willing to build it and install it for an enormous amount of money and some prevarication that apparently passes for normal in Brazil. The nifty gadget keeps the bats out and allows the shade to roll up and down.
The man installed the gadget and cleaned out the roll-up shade boxes, this is what he found: (insert imaginary psycho music here)That was in the library. Here's what he found in the living room!

YIKES!!!

Everyone has heard of samba and Carnaval, but a little examined aspect of Brazilian culture is the annoying complacency that is endemic to the country. Most apartments downtown Porto Alegre have this type of roll-up shades. My gadget is of my own invention, there is nothing in the market that will keep bats out of the roll-up boxes…. people here have bats in their houses, have been told to live with them and seem to be happy to do so!!! It’s an extreme expression of the cultural complaisance found here. If something is not working, first you look for a way around it, if you can’t find a way around it, learn to live with it! i.e. dangling a man out of a window with no safety precautions is something you live with. God forbid anyone should suggest that a thing be changed or fixed so that it works properly. For decades the Brazilian motto was: “if you are up to your neck in shit, don’t make waves!” and the country resembled Elbonia.

The thing is: in the 90’s most of the shit was drained out of the country, it is now only waist deep and we have to make waves in order to drain the rest out! START COMPLAINING PEOPLE.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Visual Texture

Click images to enlarge
I love the public market in Porto Alegre. I always have. I love the textures you find inside. The visual texture in this place is mesmerizing. The infinite multitude of merchandise on display, the uneven illumination from the stands filtered through sausages, salted cod, fruits, people, and a century of dinge is congealed by the overhead daylight into a visual texture that exists nowhere else. It’s unique to this space.

The details of the wares being sold, the blend of people from all walks of life, the display lights, the architecture, history and filth, the stories in the faces of people who have worked there forever, the various degrees of cleanliness, it all comes together into a singlular personality that is held together by light. The light in the Porto Alegre Public Market is unique and it fascinates me!
The market has all the elements I hate about public places: crowds, smells, noise, dirt and questionable maintenance, I would rather pee my pants than use a bathroom there. However, all of that comes together under a specific quality of light, a blend of visual textures that mix to create a persona, a personality that would be diminished if any of its faults were removed. It always welcomes me when I walk in, it says to me “hi, remember me? I’ve missed you. You’re not in a hurry are you? Take a look at this…” and I’m hooked, I could spend all day looking at what it wants to show me.





Monday, September 27, 2010

cool gathers no dust

The other day, for no good reason, I wanted to use the word “swell”, I thought it would be a swell thing to do. So I took out a dust rag and started to dust “swell” off, which was no easy feat. I had to get the rag between the two l’s and give it a few buffs before the accumulated grime budged. The groves in the w were also problematic, but after a while, with the aid of some lemon pledge, “swell” looked brand new and ready for use. It felt almost like a historic moment, I knew “swell” hadn’t been used since the 50’s. Its last official appearance had, in fact, been in an "I Love Lucy" episode, I thought the event might even make it into the local 6 o’clock news. Except that I couldn’t do it. I had the newly polished “swell” on the tip of my tongue, I was ready to make history with the utterance and then I tasted “swell”. I would have expected “swell” to taste like lemon pledge after using half a canister on it, but no. It tasted stale and it felt a little like cobwebs in my mouth and at the decisive moment “swell” never came out, instead “cool” made its regular appearance. I think the reason “cool” is still around and “swell” died off is simply that the double o’s in “cool” gather less dust than the w and double l’s in “swell”. Language is a living thing and it’s continuously evolving. But here is a little known fact: the evolution of language is a derivative of our willingness to dust.

Now you know!

(I know that many linguists out there will want to use this theory for their doctorate dissertations, all I ask is that you don’t give me credit)

Friday, September 24, 2010

The world without chocolate Booga Booga

A tweet by Brent Spiner recently used the term "Booga Booga" and it made me smile.  At the same time it made me consider what would thrill me in the sense that the expression implies, with a childish fright of a monster under the bed. I’ve come to terms with the destruction of our environment and the inevitable and imminent collapse of humanity, that no longer gives me pause; and if the destruction of humanity no longer thrills me in the Booga Booga sense, I imagined that little would.  I pondered the issue for a while and eventually I found something: Witch’s Broom. No, not the kind of witch’s broom flown by a cartoon version of Elizabeth Montgomery in the opening credits of Bewitched.  But rather the fungal disease that is threatening to wipe chocolate off the face of the earth. 
a healthy cocoa fruit

The cocoa tree was originally domesticated in Central America.  The Mayans were fond of a cocoa derived drink some 1500 years ago, the conquistadors brought chocolate to Europe and we have all been addicted ever since.  Fungal infections such as witch’s boom have completely decimated cocoa production in its native land.  The fungal spores can be spread by wind and through direct contact and can quickly eradicate cocoa production in vast areas.  In a recent visit to Ilheus in the north of Brazil I had the opportunity to visit a cocoa farm that had been destroyed by witch’s broom, there was nothing left.  Throughout the nineteenth century Ilheus and surroundings produced  and exported a third of the world’s raw material for chocolate. In doing business with Europe and the world, the city was incredibly wealthy and sophisticated, as described in the novels of a local resident Jorge Amado, whose works have been translated into most languages these days. Today Ilheus produces no cocoa and its past grandeur has given way to dilapidation and poverty, all due to – you guessed it – witch’s broom.


a cocoa fruit with witch's broom



 Once a region is affected by witch’s broom there is no cure, there is no pesticide or spray that will do away with the fungus. Scientists are frantically working on genetically altered cocoa trees that are able to withstand the infestation.  The greatest fear is that such funguses will cross the Atlantic Ocean and destroy the crops in West Africa.  Around 70% of the world’s chocolate comes from West Africa and the trees there have no immunity to witch’s broom.  The world’s supply of chocolate is one careless farmer or one uninformed tourist away from being completely destroyed.   I bet you didn’t know that.  Booga Booga!

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Khufu: Irony at its best, biggest and smallest


When we think of the great figures in history, from Caesar to Napoleon we conjure up their likenesses from images of statues or paintings. Napoleon and his odd looking hat masterfully painted on canvas, Caesar and his laurel wreath perpetually carved in marble are familiar to us, we think of their deeds and names and in our mind’s eye we see their faces. However the image of the man responsible for the largest and most iconic building in the history of humanity is relatively unknown to us.  We speak of Khufu and his great pyramid and the scholarly among us might imagine the cartouche of his name, but few conceive of his face.  Every school child has heard of the pyramids of Egypt, and knows that the great pyramid is the last standing the seven wonders of the ancient world.  Few know that it was built by the second pharaoh of the fourth dynasty, Khufu; and even fewer people, when speaking of the pyramid, are able to conjure up a likeness of Khufu. That is simply because no representation of Khufu has survived the millennia, except for a miniscule three inch ivory statue.


A renowned English archeologist by the name of Flinders Petrie is credited with finding the only existing likeness of Khufu.  Imagine, if you will, Petrie sitting in his tent at an excavation at the temple of Abydos 700 kilometers from the great pyramid.  It has been a long day and he is perfunctorily examining an insignificant statue.  The statue is only noteworthy for being carved in ivory rather than stone.  The year is 1903 and in the poor lighting of his tent he discerns the name Khufu on the lower right edge of the statue.  He is holding the only existing likeness of one of the greatest figures in history, but there is a small problem, a very small problem, in fact a problem less than one inch long. The head of the statue is missing.  All excavations are halted and for the next three weeks no one does anything unrelated to finding the missing head of Khufu.  After much frantic and desperate sieving of sand and rubble, Khufu’s head is found, his image is revealed for the first time to the modern world.
Khufu’s statue is currently housed in a little visited corner of the Egyptian Museum.  There is no fanfare; a small spotlight shines over the miniature Khufu in a display cabinet sitting against a wall.   Khufu, in his day, was the most powerful man in the world and yet we know very little about the man, from his appearance to how he built his pyramid, uncertainly is our only foundation.    We will never know whether early one morning, one of his advisers turned to him and said “I’m sorry sir, but what you propose is impossible”, or whether Khufu himself turned to his architect and said “You want to build what?” But we do know that he invested his life and resources in an eternal afterlife, that he may have been unfamiliar with the mathematical concept of zero and that he was certainly unfamiliar with the practical concept of the impossible.


Nowadays we contemplate Khufu’s pyramid and we are flabbergasted by the work, the man-hours pulling and quarrying stones to build such a structure, but we seldom stop to consider the logistics required just to get enough people and resources in one location to even consider the project. Following the upheaval of earlier dynasties, Khufu’s reign was a peaceful and prosperous time for Egypt. The time was ripe for a large scale social organization and standardization of resources required for the implementation of a project of such pharaonic  proportions.  We now estimate that perhaps 20,000 people worked at one time on Khufu’s pyramid.  This large number of people had to be housed, fed, trained, organized, given tools and the basic necessities of life.  It is likely that the organization for the project comprised a number of full time workers who dedicated their entire lives to supervising and planning the building of the pyramid and a number of farmers who only worked on the site while the Nile was in flood.  The workers where efficiently organized into larger groups called phyles (tribe in Greek) and then into smaller subgroups of 10 to 20 workers.  They lived in the village of the Workers, as it has come to be called, and there is evidence that workers ate extremely well judging by the types of animal bones found on the site, and they received the best medical care judging from the healed fractures of workers buried on the site.  The village had to provide the resources and manpower to produce ceramics as well as construction tools (mortar, metal and stone tools), administration functions such as accounting and work/housing assignment, grain storage and religious, medical and mortuary facilities, housing, legislation, transportation and clothing for all the workers and their families.  The scope is daunting, for each necessity met, materials and professionals had to be made available.  A sewer system was built and maintained, potters worked around the clock to provide molds for baking bread, which implies that clay had to be provided by someone, flour, water and yeast for the bread had to come from somewhere, cloth had to be woven and delivered to tailors, cattle and sheep had to be shipped over the river to be slaughtered and cooked, magistrates had to resolve legal suits, priests and tomb builders ministered to the dead and so forth. Each of the activities had to be timely or the entire system would collapse.

Nothing about Khufu was small; everything about him was larger than life.  He achieved immortality and the impossible with his pyramid.  With the only remaining likeness of him, an ivory miniature, Khufu achieved the greatest irony in history: the man responsible for the most colossal monument in the history of humanity is in fact only depicted by the smallest royal Egyptian sculpture ever found.  His pyramid is 481 feet tall while his only existing likeness is a mere 3 inches. What, then is the greatest lesson our current leaders could learn from Khufu? Simply that if you want to achieve immortality and eternal fame, don’t erect statues of yourself in public spaces, build yourself a pyramid.

Today the Village of the Workers is the domain of Egyptologist Mark Lehner who has been working at the site for some years now. Most of what we know we owe to him. Recently the filling of a canal that ran the length of the city has caused water to rise in the site, quickly deteriorating everything.










Lehner and his team backfilled the site with clean sand to protect it from erosion and are now working closer to the Wall of the Crow, which surrounded the ancient town.  Some of the town now lies under a modern cemetery and a soccer field belonging to the city.








The entrance to the Village can be seen on the left side of the Wall of the Crow.

Below are some of the tombs for the pyramid workers. Dr. Hawass, who is not shy about taking credit for all the work that takes place in Giza, is always quick to point out that if the pyramids had been built by slaves, their tombs would never have been located so near the pyramid.  Pyramid workers were free people of significant social rank.





Monday, September 20, 2010

the day the telephone almost never was


The fated historic moment is before us, a voice is heard saying:
“Mr. Watson -- come here -- I want to see you."
There is a pause and everything becomes silent. Alexander Graham Bell becomes a little disoriented and his surrounding a little hazy. A nasal voice comes over the wire:
“Hello? Mr. Bell?”
“Yes, I’m Alexander Graham Bell, who is this? What is going on?
The woman’s voice responds “Ah, Mr. Bell, yes, this is Marcy with your new ice delivery company, we have opened a new branch in your neighborhood.”
Bell, now a little dizzy “What, where am I?”
Marcy continues in a monotone voice “Mr. Bell I’m calling to know whether you are happy with your current ice delivery service. Is this a good time for you, I could call back some other time, what time is good for you?”
Bell shuffles his feet to adjust his balance, he looks that the invention before him. “This is not possible, it’s impossible”
Marcy’s monotone voice continues as if reading from a book “impossible… yes. Well, here at IcePick we try to make everything possible for you. Would you be interested in trying our ice for a week for half price? We have the coldest ice in the market.”
Bell, momentarily surrenders to the surreal and responds “No, no ice, I don’t understand what’s happening…”
Marcy continues: “We all need ice Mr. Bell, don’t turn down this great offer before you’ve heard what we are giving you. If you buy a one year service today I can give you a 30% discount and if you act now you get a free ice pick for picking IcePick. The free ice pick is yours to keep even if you decide to cancel your ice deliveries. You get to keep it forever, a free gift for trying our services…” Marcy’s voice trails off babbling something about a price guarantee.

Graham Bell’s eyes regain focus and he sees Mr. Watson storming into the room congratulating him and grabbing their coats to set off immediately to the patent office. Alexander Graham Bell sits down, rests his head on his hands and slowly answers: “We first have to stop by the church, I have a terrible feeling I should pray for my immortal soul before I patent this invention…”