At this time the tenth anniversary of my last trip to Brazil. It was not too nostalgic, but this video my friend sent me that Beatriz has shaken my defenses. I happened to retrieve my notes of those days I had in the past but I deleted the blog. Will come in six installments, until Sunday. This week I will be out and left it all planned: I hope it works.
(19-II-2001) A bank Shopping Iguatemi, Salvador de Bahia. Arrival yesterday in Rio, with the usual procedures: the prosaic landing (the light plane, suddenly, is a contraption that bounces), the tail of the customs, police gestures dry (as long as cinema novo ), the waiting for luggage at the ship soulless ... all at the airport leaves the impression of grayness waiting. Then the taxi that suddenly gets sticky for suburban atmosphere. Nobody ever gives them talk to taxi drivers, and they show courtesy and peace: an observatory are indolent, but with a tense rest of the city. Last year the first thing I did was ask who was Nádia won at the carnival (we got one or two days later) and the driver said, "Beija-Flor." That trip was his point and counterpoint. The point was my own discovery of Brazil (and Latin) and the return of Nadia counterpoint after several years. I had heard that rant against his country both in Spain, was how, from the beginning, was thrilled with everything that was rediscovering-starting, no doubt, by the warmth of the people. Yesterday we could not see anything of Rio, went straight from the airport to the Bus Station and waited three hours the start of the next bus to Bahia. We had a shower in the public toilets (endearing the soaps that came with the kit), bought a bunch of Brazilian newspapers, took a few rounds of beer Salgadinho (the first Antarctica) and then I started to hang around the station while watching Nobody's left luggage. I spent a while looking for a bottom rail mottling on platforms: a novel human tingling Kipling, with the inevitable mulatto with a mattress in the head. Then through the window in the end of an empty hallway, I discovered how far the Corcovado, the only hint of order, with persistence soda. A Rio back in the last days of our stay in Brazil, after these Bahia two weeks ahead. And the carnival. Indeed, many of which came on the bus were from Bahia (Bahian or almost all) who returned to his homeland to spend there. The trip was twenty-five hours, but I have not been made unbearable. The seat was comfortable and could easily be turned into bed, even gave you blankets, only I have a chip on his neck. I spent time listening to music over the headphones, eyes closed or looking at the scenery, browsing the newspapers, reading the novel I started on the plane ( Praise of lies, Patrícia Melo) and listening to the conversation with Nadia the next seat travelers. One of the details than most surprising is that in Spain the shops close at noon ("Olha bem, minha Filha, prune crer?" Says Nadia with fascia scandal, "dated FICAM até as five hours!"). But all this they were only intermittently awake volunteers between continuous slumber, I discovered that there is no better way to spend jet lag a long trip ônibus. In the station waiting for us Dagmar Salvador, with panties that came with the English and a short blouse. She was born here, but now is a neighbor of ours in Torremolinos. We have received with fanfare film and has led us to the ground, located in a neighborhood called ugly and aseptic Stiepan (pronounced "istiépi"), specifically in the Travessa Arnaldo Lopes da Silva. Salvador only Rodoviária know by now, and this Stiepan Shopping, which Dagmar, Nadia and the other girls in the house have decided to come as we showered. The journey so far has also been in neighborhoods disharmony. Nothing for now-except beauty of women, which certainly makes up for all the others. Only the bus came, without exaggeration, ten or twelve that I had fucked.
Now I'm sitting at the table of a bar in the mall with my chopp of Brahma, while the girls continue their shopping. I have accompanied a while, but I was looking forward to being on my own, to contemplate, to think (not big things) and write in the moleskine. Yes, I Follari a bunch of people that I-black, mulatto and light tan, these skins, these shapes, these cadences, these meats ... An orgy just to watch. Yesterday
Rodoviária of Rio, and now in the Shopping in Salvador, the same feeling: all of these crackles, these little bundles of life that I had not seen for not having been here. It is a vulgar thought, but that excites me: life is manifesting continuously without our witnesses. The rumor of the shopping and beer soothe me.
more sensations of the journey. Brazilian food at the stops. The traveler that most excited me saying "espetinho of frango." The names of the populations of the route: Juiz de Fora, Governador Valadares (where Nadia, born in the nearby village Itambacuri, spent his teenage years), Teofilo Otoni, Vitória da Conquista, Jequié, Feira de Santana ... The music in the helmets: the complete Songbooks Noel Rosa and João Donato, the VivaNoel Ivan Lins, Rosa Passos, Caymmi singing, Adriana Calcanhotto (Public ), and entering and Salvador (I wanted it to be so) Caetano Veloso: "In Bahia, Estação primeira do Brasil ...". Landscapes: ups and downs, curves between mountains to get out of Rio and Minas whole, then the night journey, the roads are not light-darkness in the window. I fell asleep and waking, but the day dawned as gray. Bahia horizons, vast fields that do not know if they were the hinterland ; a red hill, isolated, high clouds, sky, rain-sparse populations. tropical summer, the belly, weighing. The Portuguese, who always stumble more than presupposed. My problem is aesthetic: I like music so much that they speak, when I listen to myself talk I think a horror and I am ashamed. I bought maps to situate. After all, not bad have stayed today without really knowing the city. An incentive for tomorrow. I go getting carried away. I'm not ecstatic, not happy, nor even particularly receptive. I am a bit stunned, as always.
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