The best deal in the universe

The Judeo-Christian god has billion of worshipers. All Christians, Jews, Muslims and most of the weirdos on the planet. It has all the worshipers it needs and then some. It can even afford to smite a few every once in a while and never miss them. So here is the best deal in the universe, switch allegiances and start worshiping the gods of Valhalla.

I'm serious, think about it. When was the last time Odin had someone knocking on his door. We create gods and we worship them; we give them existence through our devotion and faith. What happens to them when we stop worshiping them? Well this deal is based on the assumption that once created, an immortal being never ceases to exist. Therefore Odin and his cohorts from Valhalla are right now sitting in a forgotten corner waiting to be worshiped. How many worshiper will they have? You and a hand full of nuts. You are guaranteed all the attention a god can bestow on a mortal. So light a few candles, blast the dance of the valkyries in the back ground and go worship a god that might give a shit. It's a great deal! In a millennium or so, if humans are still around and the Judeo-Christian god is sitting in a forgotten corner maybe someone will cut him a deal too.

Optimists annoy me

I'm a pessimist. I have always been a pessimist. I'm the sort of pessimist that looks at a glass and unequivocally states "Half Empty!" and then proceeds to look for a leak on the bottom. Optimists annoy me. Pessimists are always annoyed by optimism. It's the same sort of annoyance a super model must feel when watching portly people eat whatever they want, or a liberal feels when Dick Cheney is about to open his mouth to say something. It's the annoyance of witnessing something that discredits the very core of your id; it makes you cringe.

My brother is an optimist and I've spent some time thinking about how two genetically similar people could be so opposite in this sense. The obvious and well-established answer is "perception". It boils down to a matter of a positive or negative perception of one's very existence. I wondered why, and this is what I concluded: I'm a pessimist because I perceive my memories as things I have lost, not as things that I have and carry with me always. A happy memory is not something I have and treasure, it is the shadow of what I have lost. And so all optimism is tainted by the fact that what is positive today will be lost into a memory in the future.

Becoming an optimist would be as simple as realizing that memories are treasured positions and not mournful reminders of what has been lost. I started working on that realization, but then Dick Cheney came on TV... said something... I got annoyed... anyway, I'll do it tomorrow. Oh, did I mention I'm also a procrastinator?

Cariocas love their long weekends

Today, April 21st, is a national holiday in Brazil, it celebrates a martyr by the name of Joaquim José da Silva Xavier. He is more commonly known as Tiradentes. He was a leading member of the Brazilian revolutionary movement. In 1792 he was tried, found guilty, hung, chopped to bits, head put on display - the complete martyr treatment. And for the blood he spilled we get the day off today. Tomorrow April 22 (AD 1500) marks the discovery of Brazil by Pedro Álvares Cabral - no trial, no hanging, no chopping, no head on display. No blood... no holiday! However the 23rd is a holiday in Rio de Janeiro, it's St George's day... It's not a national holiday, it's only observed in Rio. Cariocas (people from Rio) enjoy their long weekends, but before you jump to the conclusion that Cariocas are opportunistic in creating fictitious holidays just to have long weekends, I want to point out that St George's day is a perfectly valid holiday because apparently there was this dragon that didn't make in the end. And who's to say dragon blood is less holiday-worthy than martyr blood. Well, I'm sure all the cariocas are debating that very subject while lying o the beach drinking a cold beer today.

interspecies communicaiton at its best

In my house we have been commenting on how the English speaking media has not ventured pronouncing the name of the Icelandic volcano wreaking havoc in Europe. This morning we were sitting on the couch and Saskia had been banned to the armchair for excessive licking and tail wagging while we were having coffee. CNN flashed the name on the bottom of the screen and my mother made a brave attempt at reading it. She got to an F sound in the middle of the name and it disappeared from the screen. She turned to me and repeated the "FFFFT" sound as if jokingly asking if that was right. I" FFFFT" back at her as if agreeing, we both "FFFFFT" to close the subjected of the unpronounceable name. At this Saskia jumped off the chair uttered a "FFFFT" of her own by blowing air out her nose and hopped on the couch between us, wagging her tail and looking from one to the other, completely delighted that she could join in the conversation.

Debased journalism in Rio de Janeiro

Brazilian news crews in Rio this week were not satisfied by entering a disaster zone where over 50 houses have been consumed by a 700 meter landslide and sticking microphones in victims' faces. Apparently standing in front of a man who can only stammer his horror at knowing his wife, children and mother have been buried alive under thousands of tons of debris as he points to where his house used to stand, was not enough for these diligent news reporters. No sirree bob! This morning they were at a cemetery, during the funeral of a woman and her two children to interview the woman's grieving sister. With a microphone under her nose the woman was asked to describe her 5 and 11-year-old niece and nephew who lay in child sized coffins just behind her. Yes that is news coverage at its best! Not a single member of the media thought of going to the Minister, Governor or even Mayor to ask why they had allowed houses to be built on a 50 year old landfill on the side of a steep hill; or even about the measures they intend to take in securing other houses in the neighborhood; or assistance to victim families; or inspection of other precariously built houses that risk the lives of occupants. Not a single government official was interviewed on the matter, but I got to see dead bodies pulled out of rubble, so I should be happy right?

Discovery Co and Sara Palin match made in hell

The Discovery Company is teaming up with one of the most notorious anti-environmentalists of the day, Sara Palin. Obviously a match made in - well, wherever Republican Senators go after they quit work at 2:00 PM. With the odd pairing there will be some changes implemented to the Discovery Channel regular programs, specifically:

Mythbusters: The myth of global warming, busted!

Deadliest Catch: This week we will follow Japanese whale hunters as they ram Greepeace speed boats and feast on baby whale meat

Shark Week: this week a delicious new shark fin soup recipe

Planet Earth: canceled, we just don't give a shit.

Seriously Discovery, get a clue!!! I recommend you start by analyzing your target audience.

Customer service in Brazilian banks

There really is no customer service to speak of in Brazil. Customers expect to be treated like crap and organizations are more than happy to comply. Case in point:
On a hot summer day my mother and I walk into her bank. She had to pay a few bills. The branch was air-conditioned and it felt good walking in, until we came to the metal detector. Most banks in Brazil have revolving doors with metal detectors granting access to the branch. I'm almost certain these doors weren’t designed to deter robbers; rather they were designed to piss off customers and ruin their days. They are extremely effective!

For example: In this video, after removing everything in her purse this woman (not mom) breaks down and strips in order to get through the metal detector to pay her bills, obviously the door is performing according to design:
http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x8mcv0_mulher-teve-de-tirar-a-roupa-para-e_news
in a different clip a woman has to remove every single electronic and metal item out of her back pack before she can enter the bank, mind you, while she is doing this no one can get in or out of the bank, there is only ONE door. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AGMkJwgNbqM this is an every day occurrence in Brazilian banks!!!!

We walk up to the teller and mom hands him the stack of bills and her bankcard. The teller swipes the card and enters the stack of bills into the system. Before he concludes the transaction he asks her for a picture ID, which she cannot produce, it’s in her other wallet.
Mom: “sorry, I don’t have my ID”
Teller: “well then I can’t process the transaction”
Mom: “but it’s my account, the bills are in my name and the bankcard is in my name”
Teller “sorry it’s policy”
Mom: “listen, the account is in my name, the bills are all in my name and the bankcard is in my name, a picture ID would also be in MY name”
She produces a SS card equivalent document with her name but alas, without a picture
Teller: “sorry, it’s policy I cant’ process the transaction”
Mom: “why not?”
Teller: “because your card could have been stolen”
Me: “you mean to tell me that a mugger stole her wallet and the unpaid bills, walked into the bank, passed the metal detector stepped into the seniors-only line, and volunteered to pay her bills out of the goodness of her heart? Do you seriously believe that?”
-*And this is where it gets good* –
Teller: “It could happen!”

He refused to process the transaction or check her signature card, it’s policy, you know.

Traffic in Sao Paulo, just one more reason to hate SP

Traffic in São Paulo is not bad, it would have to improve by a factor of 1000 in order to be classified simply as bad. There are two major thoroughfares in the city, the Pinheiros and the Tiete. In the US these would be called freeways since their speed limit is about 55 and they have no traffic lights. Whenever I see one of the few speed limit signs I always think that 55 is the goal not the limit. You never shift higher than second, ever, at any time of the day. You don't believe me? You think I exaggerate...

Every day, all day traffic is so slow that a unique industry has developed on the side of these roads. People selling refreshments, snacks, phone chargers, mosquito rackets etc. This is what these people do for a living, it's a job they have created for themselves in an industry invented out of necessity.








Some have grabbed prime real estate positions in turnouts and they set up little tents by the road every day. I'm sure these territories are contested and defended by none too peaceful means.







Outside the 'freeways' there are also jugglers, trained dogs and magicians who perform for cars stopped at traffic lights in exchange for a few coins.

I wish I had a picture of a roasted peanut salesman, they carry around a large paint can hanging from three strings tied into a handle, the can has hot coals on the bottom and the peanuts, wrapped in paper cones, are stacked on top. They are served hot and are delicious, if you are brave enough to eat something purchased on the side of the road.

A while back my brother bought some peanuts while stuck in traffic. As the young boy who was selling them approached the window, traffic started to move and to cut the transaction short my brother grabbed a handful of change from the ashtray and handed it to the boy knowing full well that the amount he grabbed exceeded the R$ 2.00 price of the peanuts, and drove off. 'Drove off' is a figure of speech, in Sao Paulo you don't get very far by driving off. We must have moved 15 yards and stopped again. A few seconds later the boy ran up to the driver's window and said "Mr. You gave me too much money, here's your change". It broke my heart. In a country where petty theft, robberies and break-ins are so common they hardly make good stories to tell friends over a beer, this young boy, who probably lives in squalor, chased a car to give someone change. That never happens in Brazil where honesty is just not something people can afford. Wouldn't it be great to have the money to give him a job or pay for his education? It's just such a shame.

Your idyllic beach shopping vacation

Are you disappointed that your idyllic beach vacation might cut into your shopping time? I have the perfect solution for your woes: Florianopoils.

Florianopolis is an island in the southern Brazilian sate of Santa Catarina, it is populated with pleasant people and boasts some of the most beautiful, pristine beaches in the world. Last weekend I attended a wedding there and discovered that you can purchase ANYTHING while laying on the sand. Seriously! I don't do well on the sun so my time on the beach was restricted to perhaps 40 minutes, and in that time this is a sample of what walked past me.
sandals anyone?


cool shades...


hats and bags...


this guy was selling fruit salad



high fashion... or better yet, high fashion and shades





Hats


Iced coconut ... and finally



the ultimate alcoholic fruit drink, made with fresh fruit on a cart at the beach and served on a hollowed out pineapple.

The chocolate fruit - cocoa

Chocolate starts as a yellowish fruit about twice the size of a papaya. The fruit grows pretty much anywhere on the tree, any spot on the trunk or branches is fair game, (if you are familiar with jabuticabas, same principle). The fruit is picked and the seeds are cleaned and dried for a week, the dried seeds smell and taste like chocolate. The seeds are ground and presto, you have raw chocolate, add a little milk and sugar and you are good to go. The fruit is sweet but doesn't taste anything like chocolate.



The cacao tree likes to grow in extremely humid, hot and shady conditions. The farmers plant banana trees, which are fast growing, to provide shade for the young plants. A tree reaches full production maturity in just 5 years and can be harvested twice a year.



Twenty years ago Ilheus in the north of Brazil was among the top producers of cocoa in the world until a fungus decimated the entire production. The fungus is called Vassoura de Bruxa (witch's broom) and has no known cure, the cocoa producers have had to learn to live with this plague. Once it hit the region's production was reduced to a fraction of what it had been, and now twenty years later it is no longer a profitable industry and the city of Ilheus has fallen on hard times.

Tourism is picking up in Ilheus since cruise ships started docking there. There are 2 or 3 cruise ships each week and a small tourism industry is contributing to the local economy, some of the more savvy cocoa framers who are still around cater to the passing tourists. The cocoa farmer's hospitality was impeccable and his wife made us some cocoa fruit juice and showed us her house. She has a flair for decorating and the wooden sink outside the bathrooms was a site to see. The bottom was lined with river stones and sprinkled with jasmine flowers which released their aroma as the water poured over them.


It seems to me that a threat to the world's chocolate production is a rather serious thing. If this spreads to other cocoa producers the results would be catastrophic (at least to me…) In twenty years the only solution found was a hybrid plant that has stronger resistance to the fungus. Chocolate may soon become a luxury item for the very few.

Saudade

There are things about Portuguese that bother me. First, it's chauvinistic, if you have a group of 10 thousand women and one man, the group is referred to in the masculine 'eles' rather than the feminine 'elas'. Second, it has a formality that is disguised as respect but is designed to increase the divide between the social classes. And it all pisses me off a little bit.

However, there is one word in Portuguese that has no English equivalent. - There are several really, and vice-versa, but let’s pretend there is only this one. - The word is SAUDADE. It expresses an emotion. The emotion itself is felt by all people regardless of the language they speak, but for some reason the Portuguese decided to give it a name while the English decided that it was better not to discuss one’s emotions. In English you would say that you miss someone or something, that you are homesick for a place or that you long to return somewhere. You might even say that you miss someone so much that it hurts. But then you also miss ice-cream when you are on a diet, and the bus when you’re late. Saudade is more than that. It's the empty feeling inside, the gaping hole in your soul caused by the absence of the object of love, it's the physical pain that makes you sob with grief in the absence of someone you love. It's what comes over you when you watch a plane take off, carrying someone you love away from you, or carrying you away from a place you never want to leave. It's so powerful that when you make plans to see the object of affection for which you feel saudade you don't say you are going to get over, or get rid of your saudade. You say that you are going to “kill” it; because the power it has over you almost gives it life. Needless to say, it is a word often used in poetry and lyrics. According to some songs, if you don't kill saudade, saudade will eventually kill you. My favorite lyricist described saudade as tidying the room of a son who has died. It's a very powerful word and emotion.

It's not a depressing word. You only get to feel saudade if you have loved in the same measure. It may be the price we all pay for giving our hearts and isn't it always better to have loved and lost…

Killer Bonner

Part of this is a true story, I'll tell you which part at the end.

Mr. Keller is a successful television executive who is proud of his Scottish heritage and his family name. He is offered a position at the main TV station in Brazil, Globo TV. At first he hesitated, but he was assured that everyone at Globo spoke some English and move entailed a promotion and a significant raise so Mr. Keller relented. At the Antonio Carlos Jobim airport he was greeted by a driver who took him to his hotel. The same driver greeted him at the lobby the next morning and drove him to the TV station. There he smiled at the receptionist and introduced himself. She smiled back and told him in passable English that she would announce him. She picked up the phone, dialed and said "Mr. Bonner, Mr. Killer is here to see you."
She told him to go right in, he smiled at the mistake in pronunciation and whispered.
"By the way, it's 'Keller', and who am I meeting?"
"You will be meeting with Mr. Willian Bonner, he's the evening news anchorman."
"Bonner? William Bonner. Right..."
This time she corrected him ,"It's Willian, it ends with an n."
Keller enters the office at the end of the hall. There he is greeted by a handsome man who extends a hand and says in a strong Brazilian accent.
"Mr. Killer, hi, I'm glad to meet you, I'm Bonner."
Mr. Keller is now slightly put off at the mispronunciation of his name and asks.
"Bonner is it? Do I have it right? It's William Bonner?"
"Almost right, but I'm used to being called William by the English, it's Willian."
A correction was definitely in order here. Being called Killer is one thing but being called English would not do.
"I'm Scottish"
"Ah, yes, but it's all the same thing isn't it?"
Now, holding back his annoyance, Mr. Keller retorts.
"And my name is Keller, not killer."
"Isn't that what I said?" Bonner asks.
"You said killer, a killer is a murderer, my name is Keller"
"Killer not Killer. Ok I got it now."
Keller continued, "I'm sorry Mr. Bonner, they are spelled differently, one with an e the other with an i." And a little embarrassed about asking for the clarification again he adjoined "it is Bonner? isn't it?"
"Yes it is, that's right. Please sit down Killer"
"Maybe we could use our first names" said Mr. Keller, desperately looking for a solution to this absurd situation. "I'm Richard, Richard Keller"
"Well everyone calls me Bonner, but I'll call you Dick" said Bonner smiling. Bonner looked at Mr. Keller inquisitively and carefully pronounced the name
"Dick Killer...?"
Mr. Keller stood up, thanked Bonner for his time and left for the airport without stopping at the hotel to pick up his suitcase. Being called an English Dick Killer by a guy named Bonner was not worth the promotion or any amount of money.

The story is made up, but the anchorman for the national evening news in Brazil is in fact named Willian Bonner. I kid you not!

doilies from hell

I'm predisposed to like someone who shows up at my door in the morning and leaves my house spotless by the time she leaves in the afternoon. But all predispositions aside my cleaning woman is a very nice person. Brazilian law requires employers to pay a sort of Christmas bonus to their employees of one additional month's salary at the end of the year. Everyone in the office gets a bonus (except my brother and I) and, even though she is not legally my employee, I always give her a bonus at the end of the year. I'm rather egalitarian in my treatment of people and I think she somehow perceives it as kindness, the sort of kindness that must be repaid.

Every year she shows her appreciation with a gift, last year she gave me dish towels, which were very much useful and used, this year she gave me doilies form hell. Or maybe they are just hell-adjacent, since she is a very pious person and probably doesn't shop in hell. They are a sort of glaring florescent white that would have made Rembrandt envious. I smiled and thanked her and put them away in a drawer. Yesterday she cleaned my house and when I came home the doilies had been pulled out of the drawer and introduced into the décor.

My house isn't "decorated" in the strictest sense of the word, it simply has things in it that appeal to me, and my taste runs towards antique-wood-impressionism-traditional. So now I have Gustave Caillebotte on the wall, a majolica centerpiece and the doily from hell on my dining room table.

The writing desk apparently would have been jealous if it too didn't get a little something.

I don't want to offend her, but seriously, isn't it a little cruel and unusual to expect someone to live with florescent doilies? What the hell-adjacent should I do?

Leaf guy, ze da folha

Porto Alegre is a city of a million and a half inhabitants that has managed to keep all the charms and customs of a small town. Every weekend a side street of the main park in the city is closed and a huge outdoor fair is set up. On Saturdays it's reserved to organic foods and on Sundays it's an arts-craft-antique-crap-food-performance-fair. It's called the Brique and some characters show up almost every weekend, my favorite is Ze da Folha.



He is a one-man-band, he plays a guitar and a tambourine with his foot But his main talent is a leaf that he holds between his lips to whistle out tunes. He is very good and has a repertoire ranging from Bossa Nova to Tangos. Here he is in a YouTube video. (Love that song btw it's called `Trem das onze`, is it pathetic that I know all the words?)

(the video is not mine it's from this link at google videos: http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-6803741597798243907&hl=en#)

Cashews

When you buy a jar of cashews do you know what you are buying? Is it a nut? Ever wonder where cashews come from? From the cashew fruit.

The cashew nut is the stem of the cashew fruit. Each nut corresponds to one fruit, it has to be picked, shelled and roasted. The fruit is then processed into pulp, juices and other foods. The fruit hangs from the tree from the opposite side of the nut. It is fleshy, extremely juicy and on the bitter side, unsweetened cashew juice is an acquired taste.