much many

Ive been disappointed in Salvador. NOt because it ISNT culturally rich. NO it is. But because I had no idea how strong tourism was affecting everything here. I am merely one of trillions of Americans enchanted by the streets of Salvador...

however

I am humbled, mesmerized, inspired, enchanted, thrilled, emotional, and somehow in love with everything i see, regardless of their tainted existence as something of a commodity. Yesterday, after quite the emotional day, where capoeiristas (capoeira players) of the street were joking around with me, treating me like the next tourist... it was the sight of something later that night that made me realize it was all worth it. My friend (A 20 year old Brazilian American who also plays capoeira) and i walked over to a square where we saw capoeira being played. The oldest man, the mestre, was playing his beribau and singing at the top of his lungs. There was something so beautiful and touching about his complete love for capoeira that was nothing like anthng i had seen before. He had a grey beard, long dreads (about 4 of them total because they clumped together like massave pine cones) and torn clothes... and it seemed like he could care less about the slowly building crowd around the players... respect oozed from the other players, feeding his smile and the crack in his vocal tone. It was something indescribable. I wanted to reach over and touch him, as if he was some kind of ghost, with magical powers to heal or tell the future, or be a fountain of youth... something.

everything else doesnt compare... my adventures runing into my enemy from LA capoeira class... watching a fight almost break out with my drunken classmates and some locals, nothing compares.

First exploration

So right now it is the festival of Sao Joao (not sure how to use this computer for accents)... which basically means that Salvador has been empty, for everyone travels to the interior of brazil duing this time... But there was a slight bustling happening in Perlourino...

I heard through the grapevine that my favorite group, (and probably a trillion other people~s) Olodum would be performing on sunday night... but that you had to purchase a tshirt and dvd in order to get in. My host mother (who went off to cuba for a weeks vacation) left me in the hands of her ubercool best friend who offered to venture to pelouino to ask about olodum~s show...

as we walked through the touristy streets of pelourino, approached by several Bahianas trying to sell african jewelry, we casually asked aound where Olodum~s house was... to our surpise, after realizing that their house was closed, we ran into a street performance of olodum~s children school, who was performing for a television show. I stumbled into exactly what i wanted to search for--olodum~s street kid project, which brings in kids to learn music and percussion. All these adorable kids from 7-17 casually performing in the street.... i hated being amoung camera snapping tourists who probably didn~t know anything about samaba reggae music... but I mentally slapped myself for sneering at the tourists and just enjoyed it all, with a cheesy smile on my face and tapping my feet.

On the bus back to Victoria where i live, Helena (my `baby sitter`for the week) stopped a few blocks from home, to show me what REAL bikinis look like. (She and the family had laughed at what i thought was my skimpy american bikini). To make a long story short, after sever laughs, a few dropped jaws , and some scared faces as i looked in the mirror after trying on a few... i walked out with a flourescent pink `conservative`brazilian bikini. ¨When in ROme¨, right?

Later that night somehow i orchestrated four of us students to go back to Pelourino for some forro dancing that was apparently going to be happening in the main square. I absolutely hate traveling in groups... i wanted to go on my own, but to be safe, i had to bite the bullet. Even though not much was happening compared to normal, it was amazing to see small children dressed up like little cowgirls as they celebrated the Sao Joao festival, and all the vendors of various fruits, drinks and meat on a stick (i forgot the name)... The vendor that sold me some deliscious lemon splashed chicken couldn~t have been more friendly.. with a toothless smile and bright plump cheeks she kept telling me, ¨look at all of my children and grandchildren... you have to live live live and keep smiling¨... i~m not sure what prompted her to tell me this, becuase i don~t how i could have smiled more, but i will never forget her face and inspiring attitude. It~s as if i knew her already.

arrived

Arriving in Sao Paulo, myself and a student from the program went to go look for our luggage. To my surprise they actually had mine, although i couldn~t say the same for my friend... whose luggage was still in Los Angeles... After pushing our way through the security line, we encountered the line for checking in to our next flight... which coiled around like a snake by the TAM airlines counter, and continued around for what seemed like miles, around sandwhich vendors and out into the middle of the lobby... after taking a few hours to wait in line, we thought we missed our flight... `oh no, the flight is very late`they said casually... and we made our way up to the gate... of course the gate was not the correct number and eventually we found the right one...

Waiting to get off the plane a young man behind me kept tapping on my chair. Rather than get annoyed, I was a bit excited... hoping that the rhythms I have so impatiently wanted to hear in this city are in fact on every street corner, starting even from the seat behind me.

A group of us decided to take the city bus to our hotel.... which took about thrice the time it would have taken to have a taxi. But looking around this beauiful city, with giant waves on the moonlit beach, and old cobblestone streets... lingering on a bus was quite alright.

Looking forward to writing more as i see more.

In a Flurry

A year of grad school has gone by as fast as a flickering firefly on a hot summer night. I'm greatful for the past year... Where else could I have seen dance from Bali to Burkina Fasso, learned about topics from Voudoun ritual in Haiti to seances of remote regions of Indonesia, gotten to break dance on my back and blissful bang on giant Brazilian drums. Where else would I be told by 300 year old spirit that I was "blowing around like a fart in the wind" My mind has had quite the mental workout, and school is over for the moment... That is, until I get to Brazil where I will learn Portuguese. Fun?Research?Pleasure?Soul-Searching? School? Yes. For all of the above....

After spending my first and last free week in a flurry of wig-parties, chugging local coffee, soakin up some sun, getting shots in my arm, taking a few last spins on my skateboard, and embracing friends I might not see for a while, I am currently cramming a giant orange suitcase with a series of skimpy bathing suits and what i hope will be "Brazil-appropriate" clothing. I think fashion-obsessed artistic travelers have to have a little bit of masochism in them... How else could we endure the torturous process that is ridding ourselves of much of our self-expressive articles... Alas, I look forward to ridding myself temporarily of my overflowing closet, as well as my computer and ipod... Technology and choice has a tendency of smothering the soul.

Equipped with 3 notebooks of crisp blank pages, a Portuguese dictionary, a large orange suitcase and video camera clenched tightly, I will be heading out of LA tomorrow...

and while i already miss my new inspirational friends, old travel buddies, and my messy room, I looking forward to revealing more about my travels in Salvador da Bahia Brazil.