Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Taking Time to Smell the (Fill in the Blank)

As I've mentioned in previous entries, I walk a lot here in Rio. It's really an unavoidable fact of life in Brazil. While walking, I find myself thinking. Sometimes it's productive (how to organize my thesis chapters, etc.) but mostly it's just nonsense. The other day I was walking along, minding my business, when I was suddenly assaulted by the most horrific smell ever. My inability to place that smell, much to my dismay, led to me to think about smells in general.

Smell is, for me, the most fascinating of the senses. It's the only one directly tied to another sense (taste) and it's been scientifically connected to memory, happiness and love. And, from a literary standpoint, it's the hardest sensory experience to replicate with words. I don't know about other people, but smell ties me to place more than anything else. For example, there are smells that I will forever associate with the place I grew up, my grandparents' house, my parents' house, Nashville and Brazil. Brazil, and Rio in particular, offers a unique mixture of aromas.

Positive Smells:

Anyone who has lived or even visited Brazil in the summer knows that the smell of ripe mangos (or almost any other tropical fruit) is just about strong enough to cross a street and punch you out. The smell of the beach here drifts into the city for at least 2 blocks in Copacabana, Ipanema and Leblon. The vast number of bakeries and confectionery shops in the city adds bread and sugar to the lost list of smells. Strange as it may sound, construction sites smell great to me--- freshly cut wood, freshly turned earth, metal tools-- so, the building boom around here has been very enjoyable. Freshly laundered sheets flapping on lines in the sun and the hot, steamy smell of soapy laundry mat exhaust is nice too. The libraries and archives here, like most places filled with old books, smell awesome to me; ancient binding glue mixed with aging paper equals awesomeness.

Negative Smells:

Clogged and over-running gutters full of cigarette butts, leaves, garbage and dirt baking in the sun. Icky. Open or loosely closed sewer covers let out all kinds of nastiness into the air-- especially when it's hot. Car/bus/taxi exhaust (while not as bad as in the US-- fuel is mixed with other things-- some public transport runs on natural gas....you can imagine, I'm sure). Doggy poop-- there's no "pick up after your dog" law here....and there are a LOT of dogs. Fun times. Body odor. Oh lord. Some people just don't believe in deodorant and it makes me sad. Mold/mildew. We're currently in a muggy, humid, rainy period and it seems like everything--- towels, clothes, sheets, furniture-- gets moldy easily.

So, all in all, this city is a virtual cacophony of smells-- good and bad. Some are enough to make you naseous and others make your mouth water. What's my point in all this? Well, I've never cared for the phrase, "stop and smell the roses". Personally, I think roses smell like feet. I've never liked them. I prefer to advocate that people simply stop and smell. Smelling is really very sensual. You have to stop, breathe deeply and concentrate to identify a smell. Smelling things is sort of the epitome of living in the present. I'm trying to do a bit more of that. Taking things as they come, enjoying the little things and being content with reality.

Oh, and in case anyone was wondering, the one smell--above all others-- that I will forever associate with Rio/Brazil is: the pipoca (popcorn)/churros cart. Ohhhh....the delicious combination of salty and sweet that drifts from those carts can make me hungry even after I've just eaten a huge meal. It's uncanny. Mixing buttery popcorn and caramel popcorn into a big ball of fatty goodness is one of life's greatest pleasures; perfect in it's unhealthy simplicity. And the churros-- fried sticks of dough stuffed with chocolate or dulce de leite and rolled in sugar-- are the food of the gods, pure and simple. On the note, I wish everyone a day of interesting and enjoyable smells!

Until next time...

Monday, March 14, 2011

Carnival, Samba and Going Green


Last week I was able to experience one of the most talked about, written about and sung about aspects of Brazilian culture-- Carnival. Aside from my understanding of Carnival from a purely academic perspective, I had no idea what to expect. Frankly, I was rather nervous. The American version of this celebration-- Mardi Gras-- is far from what I would call a good time. Small people like me tend to get stepped on and shoved (not to mention getting beer spilled on you) in large, rowdy crowds; which is why I generally avoid large crowds in the U.S. So, giving myself over to the euphoria of Carnival was a bit of a conundrum.

I must say that I was very pleasantly surprised. Brazilians were, for the most part, on their best behavior and genuinely in a good mood. The blocos (street parties with live music and dancing) that I attended were very family-oriented. It was common to see whole families dressed up in silly costumes and out partying together all day long (grandparents, parents and kids). It looked a bit like Halloween with beer, dancing and loud music. I only saw a few people who were really drunk. Most looked pleasantly buzzed and totally functional. The streets were very crowded and most people were shoulder-to-shoulder with total strangers but no fights broke out and no one seemed to get hassled.

The samba that I saw people doing was pretty incredible. It was mostly a simple shuffle step/march but there were definitely a few people with serious talent in the crowd. For those unfamiliar with samba, it's the traditional dance for Carnival in Rio. I don't want to bore people with the history of the festival and the dance so, here are some links if anyone feels curious to know more or wants to see what it all looks like:

A Narrated History of Carnival (they're talking about the Caribbean but most holds true for Brazil too; just insert Portuguese instead of Spanish or French people)

After a week of food, drink, merriment and a visit from my husband, I was feeling pretty good. Then, I kinda crashed. I've been on such a sad, lazy kick recently, I can't even explain it. I just don't feel like doing anything. To cheer myself up a bit, I decided to treat myself to a spray tan. As per an earlier post, being as insanely white as I am in this country makes me feel rather self-conscious. I figured that a little (skin healthy) tan would boost my self-esteem at least temporarily.

There's literally one place in the whole city that offers a spray tan. The price was a whopping $120 reais (roughly $70 USD) but I thought I would at least try it once. The ladies at the clinic were very friendly and seemed quite professional. The girl in charge of spray tanning told me to strip down and stand in a little tent they had in the room. She sprayed me...a
lot. I've done spray tanning in the U.S. many times and this was the equivalent of about 2.5 regular tans there. I had flashes of the "Friends" episode where Ross gets spray tanned 3 times on one side of his body but figured they knew what they were doing. I had to stand in the room in front of a big fan for 15 minutes while women came in and out for other procedu
res. Oh, Brazil-- you really are determined to make me REALLY comfortable with my body. I gingerly got dressed and got back on the subway to go home. I excitedly showed my roommate how dark I'd gotten and explained that it would even out after I took a shower in a few hours. I decided to do some work on my laptop and sat in my room for a bit. Only after getting up to go to the bathroom did I notice something was wrong. In the bathroom mirror, I lifted my dress to look at myself....and I had turned green. Yes, green. I'm not entirely sure but, I think the blue cotton dress I was wearing (after entering into contact with my freshly-painted skin) bled dye. I'm literally a drab, military kinda green from my knees up to my shoulders, following the lines of the dress. The rest of me is a strange reddish-brown color. A reaction from...? All in all, I look about as far from "natural" as a person can get. Figures!

So, yes, I'm green. And, yes, I've learned my lesson. Be happy with your natural skin color.....because there's always something weirder. After 5 days, I'll go back to being a super-white American and I'm really okay with that.

Until next time...

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Happy Endings?

I LOVE massages. Pretty much anyone who knows me has heard me extol the virtues of a good masseuse. Since my life here in Rio has been mostly work and very little play, I decided (after a very, very delayed paycheck) to treat myself. So, I began by plugging (in Portuguese) "massage" and "Rio" into an online search engine. Oopsy. Needless to say, my naive search returned a mountain of X-rated results. Many places promising your money back if you don't receive a "happy ending". Okaaaay, definitely not what I'm looking for. I tried again....and again....and again. Still nothing but pop-up ads with naked chicks and innuendos about "hot rocks". I finally had legitimate results after searching the Brazilian version of the yellowpages.

The problem was, no place listed a website-- just a name and (usually) a cell number. Creepy. I decided maybe searching "spa" might be a better way to go. Instantly, I found a really nice website for "Spa G", located in a nice neighborhood. Finally! I wrote down the address and figured I'd swing by the next day, since it was on my way.

As soon as I stepped into the "spa", I knew I'd made a mistake. Don't get me wrong, it was beautiful inside. And offered a huge list of awesome-sounding services. Unfortunately, I wasn't the "desired" clientele. After exchanging greetings, the man at the front desk gave me a strange look. He just stared at me with a mixture of amusement, annoyance and pity. The silence made me uncomfortable and I started to ask a question but two very buff men wearing only towels (fresh out of the steam room) walked past me, hand-in-hand, interrupting my train of thought. Ohhhhhhhhh, got it. I looked at the front desk guy, smiled and said, "This isn't my kind of place, is it?" He smiled back (totally amused now) and said, "No, sweetie. This is not your kind of place." I thanked him and-- honestly disappointed-- walked out. Duh??!!! I'm an idiot. It's even called "Spa G"....damnit. Crap. Now I have to start searching all over again!

A bit gun-shy from the experience, I figured I should give up the search for a bit. So, two weeks passed. Then, coincidentally, I got a tip from an acquaintance about a friend of hers who just happens to be a masseuse! Ding-ding-ding! I got the info and made an appointment.

So, today was my appointment. I must admit, even for a seasoned massage veteran like myself, it was a surprising experience. It started out normal enough. We chatted, she asked me about problem areas, habits, etc. She showed me the room and told me to undress, blah, blah, blah. I was barely listening-- soooo excited to start. As soon as she walked out, I started peeling off my clothes and laid stomach-down on the table. Suddenly, I realized there was no sheet. Nothing to cover my super-white booty. Hmmm, ok. Whatever, I can roll with it. She comes in, puts on music and starts rubbing my shoulders. I'm just in heaven. YAY! My brain wonders off into la-la land. Then, through the fog, I hear her tell me to roll over. As I start to roll I think, "Wait....um....no sheet...?" Now I'm fully conscious and equally self-conscious. I open my eyes and ask if I could have a sheet or something. She looks at me funny like "ok, weirdo" but gives me a small towel to cover the girls. Ok, I'm fine again. Do, do, do, do....rub, rub, rub. Happy place.

Then....she removed the towel and rubbed my boobs. Yup. Boobs. Just like she was massaging my hands or my feet. No big deal. Very matter-of-fact. No lie. I was in total shock. I've easily had 20-30 massages in my life, never has this occurred. It wasn't sexual at all but I was completely freaked out. She rubbed my stomach and my butt with equal candor and efficiency. In my head I'm going "omg, omg, omg....don't fart....don't giggle....don't like it too much....act like you don't care!!" the whole time but, frankly, I felt pretty awesome afterwards. It was a great massage, if not rather invasive compared to the American version. I never realized how uncomfortable I was with my body until I encountered someone who wasn't. I've never felt like such a prude in my life. I still haven't decided if I'll go back again. It might take a little while to work through the trauma that has been massage here in Brazil, haha....

Until next time...