Sweating With the Oldies

So short and brief...i moved into my new apt...and wallah, no internet hook up...YET. So I'm typing this off my roomies.

Suffice it to say, the woman from the last apartment wasnt satisifed with the apt that looked as good as it did when she showed me, thinking i should have have washed the sheets and towels (which I did by HAND, thank you very much), and also have the apt professionally cleaned in order to get back my deposit. I TOLD her NO, that her crap stopped there and I wasn't gonna pay that, that this was how it looked when she showed me and I specially asked her if I could leave it like this--would it be fine. She then countered with, OK FINE, after all your bickering and calling to come fix little things all the time". I cut her off there, "you mean the hot water heater? Is that the littlet things you're referring to?" And it when on like that for a bit until she said..."I hope this is not how things are handled in the US...the way you are acting". And what I didn't say but I wish I had was..."Lady, i f things were handled like they've been with this temp apt...YOU WOULD BE OUT OF BUSINESS". I did have to throw in that my lawyer would see that I got it all back.

Suffice it to say, we didn't leave on best terms, but I left will all my deposit back. :)

NO AIR CONDITIONING FOR THE WICKED

It has been HOT the past couple of days, and tonight is also gonna be hot. It's supposed to break tomorrow and cool down, but I have to suffer in a room with a medocre fan to keep me cool. Ughh...the struggles one goes through to live a life of leasure.

Oh wello, off to bed.

Sweat dreams, I mean sweet dreams.

Snap, "CRACK"le, Pop!

They say the Chinese invented the firecracker. But the Drug Lords here in the Rio Slums have perfected their use. Apparently, from what I can gather, whenever the police are about to do a bust, or a new shipment of drugs have arrived, you'd think the city was celebrating the 4th of July. It's firecracker heaven for like 30-45 minutes.

Tonight is one of those nights, although a small shipment must have arrived. Not much Noise from the explosives. But the last week, it was like The 4th of July for 2 hours.

I don't know what was going on, or who was doing what, but the early Chinese would have been proud.

Bang! Bang! Pop! Drug-izzle!

THINGS I LOVE ABOUT RIO/BRASIL

1. All of the grocery stores have a FRESH BREAD department. Throughout the day, fresh bread is being made, warm, fresh, tasty.

2. The sidewalks are most often paved with stones in the most beautiful pattern. If you take a look at the picture of Copacaban Beach above, you'll see the patters created by these stones. And it's not done in cement...the stones are laid out on sand, then packed with sand and that's how they stay. It's really a work of art.

3. Fruits of all kinds. Really, if you like any kind of fruit, you can find it here. And not only the fruit, but a glass of freshly made juice from it for about $2.00 per glass.

4. Rice & Beans. It's THE staple down here, but I really like it. Obviously, it's CHEAP to make and pretty easy to prepare, but it's something Americans should adopt more of. The rice is a non-entity as far as nutrition, but the beans are loaded with good proteins, etc. I'll try to learn how to make good Beans, and teach whomever wants to know.

A MEAL TO MAKE CHUCK-A-RAMA ENVIOUS

So, recently I've been let onto these Buffet type places. They are not called buffets (which by the way, they call buffets a Pizzaria...go figure), somelike more like Bar-b-Que, but what you do it you get a plate and you select whatever you want to eat...and then pay by the Kilo. Drinks are extra, as is dessert, but you can eat a lot, and pay a lot, or eat a little an pay a little.

Clever, right?

And I've stumbled across a couple that have REALLY good food...so yeah, eat your HEART out UpChuck-a-Rama.

KEEP ON MOVING

I move tomorrow. I know the landlady is going to try and stiff me, so I'm dotting my I's and crossing my T's. Still, I'm sure she'll say something.

And get this...apparently, in the contract I signed, I have to do all the laundry, wash, dry, etc and leave it FRESH for the next person. I said, "What, I've never done that in a hotel". She said, "Well, this isn't a hotel!" LOL I said, um, ok, you're right about that.

Chovendo MUITO hoje

No Really, What do YOU think about me?

Funny how our perceptions of others are always, or usually, different than how they see themselves.

I recently stumbled upon a guy that had been through SLC. Of course, that peeked my interest, and before I could ask him what he thought, he added, "yeah, I made it to the center of the Mormon Church, but didn't go in." Knowing he probably meant Temple Square, I asked why not, thinking he'd come to a new place, a lot of american history, a worldwide church, beautiful landscaping, handsome people, etc.

His response, "It kind of freaked me out...I mean those young girls and the older people with those name tags...they all seemed so Stepford Wives. It just felt freaky and I couldn't walk in...I had to leave".

Now, that took me for a spin because I see those people as young, innocent, sincere, and welcoming--if not a tad pushy. But definitely not robotic.

Makes you think how others see you, versus how we see ourselves?

I see myself as presenting an outward personae of outgoing, happy, intelligent, clever, even- tempered, and semi-confident. But just the other day, a guy here called me a bad seed come down from the US...(I'm not sure that guy's not a bad seed, but hey, perceptions are perceptions). I always thought I treated women with respect, yet in my last singles ward, I was told that some women in the ward thought I talked down to them. At work, I think I project a skill level in most areas, yet at times I've been counseled to work better with some groups of people. I like to think I'm level-headed, able to look at complex situations be it business, politics, religion, society, and weigh the data and come up with a logical decision. Yet some people have called me head-in-the-sand, close minded, even arrogant.

So, what type of a perceptions am I really giving off? I want to be the good guy, but maybe deep down, the good guy doesn't wanna present itself all the time.

Makes you think. Or it makes ME think.

A BOOK, A BOOK, WE HAVE YOUR BOOK

So today I went out to Barra Shopping. 1) I bought my first official Brasilian souvenir--a pair of Made in Brasil board shorts, and 2) to get out of the heat (in the A/C'd mall--it's huge) and also meet a friend that lives out there.

So in one of the stores, I left my Portuguese Instruction Book. The bad thing is, I didn't realize it until I'd left and was on the bus home. It hadn't gone far, so I got off at the next step, walked back to the Mall, and retraced my steps...finding it on the exact same shelf I'd left it while trying on a Tank Top.

I was SO HAPPY. I thought this language is gonna go NO WHERE FAST if I don't have my book to learn from. So yeah, I got it back, and then went and bought my souvenir to celebrate.

On a side note, the bus ride out was delightful--A/C and all. The bus ride back was stop and go, and without A/C and I am still sweating, hours after because of it.

Something has happened to this body--it sweats a lot more than it used to. I'm having to take 2-3 showers a day just to be presentable in public :)

IT'S MY PARTY AND I'LL CRY IF I WANT TO

I'm off to a party tonight. I know NO ONE that will be at this party...but I got an invite so I'm gonna go. You may have this false perception about me that I like doing these kind of things--meeting new people. YOU WOULD BE WRONG. I hate it when I know no one. I much prefer it when I have someone to anchor onto and then it's much easier to meet people.

But I don't know anyone, so I'm just gonna go, do my best at trying to be outgoing and friendly, and see if others perceptions of me are positive versus negative.

Ughh, perceptions, perceptions, perceptions.

Junk in the Trunks

Brasilians have an issue with time and keeping appointments. I should have remembered this from my mission, but somehow, I'd forgotten. But tonight I re-learned the lesson. (the third time in the past week).

A guy wanted to meet for dinner. Sure, we set a time, a place, exchanged numbers. I show up and after 30 minutes left because he didn't show or call.

I then get a message 2 1/2 hours later saying he had to work late. Sorry, lets do it Friday or Sunday. No remorse, no issue...he just couldn't make it.

I'm trying to GRILL him, but in my limited language, I'm sure it's not having as much PLAY TIME and STING as it should. And in reality, I know this is the culture. I should just get used to it...you NEVER know if someone's gonna return a call when they say, show up for an appointment, meet at a certain time, etc. Scheduling repairmen or changes to a house--I hear-- are a nightmare.

If they actually have the Olympics on the days they've promised, I'll be surprised.

One thing they are on time for...Soccer games.

ONE BIG SWEAT BALL

I have to find a gym with air conditioning. I'm not kidding. This one week gym deal without the A/C is about to kill me. By the time I leave, my gym clothes are so soaked they're as though I was walking in NOAH's rain storm.

And today, the city was MUGGY and hot. And summer is just begining. I knew my new room should have required A/C but it doesn't have it. This living like and amongst the natives might have a shorter life span than I expected. :)

But around 6 again today I walked down to the beach and took a dip. It was so refreshing. So beautiful.

UNCLE LORYN WOULD BE PROUD

I've noticed that the men/boys here have a lot in common with Uncle Loryn. As a kid, I couldn't help noticing that about every couple of minutes Uncle Loryn would adjust his JUNK down there. Maybe a nervous hitch, discomfort, heat...I wasn't sure, but I do remember him always doing this.

Or MAYBE Uncle Loryn was Brasilian.

Even young boys here are constanting adjusting their junk. It's like every few minutes/seconds..oops adjust.

Isn't it funny that things like that are so cultural. Men in American don't do that, or if they do, they are very careful to be discreet about it.

But down here, you could be talking to Mother Teresa and they'll still be rearranging the furniture.

I remember in China when I was there, they spit about 100 times more than we do. Culturally, they've learned to not swallow, but spit that stuff out. I found it gross...they have spittons all over the city and even older women like to do it.

Here they adjust.

Spitting and Adjusting--Americans are so behind the curve.

CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?

So I've been studying the language more each day. Spending about 2 hours going through some books I brought with me. And I was thinking today as I walked down the street...I'm understanding more of what people are saying...but still if I'm not engaged in the coversation, I'm only getting baout 60 percent of everything they say.

I thought back to my mission. I know at first I was LOST. I got almost nothing people were saying.

But the weird thing is, I THINK I could pretty much understand everything, and they me, after the two years. I don't recall for sure, maybe I was dillusional, but I think I was doing pretty well. NOW GRANTED, I'm only here a month, but I still think I have a long way to get to fluency again.

I get by, I mean I can MAKE it through the day, but I'm far from fluent right now.

I'll keep trying.

DHL SPOTTING

I saw a DHL vehicle today. Yep, they're here. I was walking down the street and parked on the sidewalk was a little motorcylce with a basked on the back that said DHL. Yep, there's my lawsuit in action--a huge international company driving around on a 50 cc motorbike.

I'm tired. Good night.

I'm Melting...My Pretty

I think I missed a posting yesterday. It was a late night. I had a two hour IM call with Rod in the LA office. And after that, I spent some more time IMing with another franchise owner. I didn't get in bed til 1:30 in the morning.

Things could be better in the LA office for our USS business. Essentially, since last December, we have spent about $70,000 in salaries and other expenses. We've been unable to turn around the losses and unless things change QUICKLY, we will run out of operating funds by first Quarter 2010. My conversation with Rod was all about this...looking at the financial data, our sales data, and expected growth over the next three months based on current and potential future product offerings.

He believes he can make the changes to make us profitable. But at this point, future risk has to be shared by Rod...he knows this and still feels that he can make the company turn around.

I hope he's right. Because when I return, I'll be picking up with him, or where he left off, and will be selling in NYC.

As a side note, I hear our lawyers are meeting with DHL the coming Thursday...next. Hopefully good things will come from this meeting.

THE WILD WILD SOUTH

And we thought the days of the wild, wild west were over. Today, while eating a late lunch in a cafe, SOME soccer game (there is ALWAYS a soccer game on some TV) was interrupted by a hostage/police raid on a bank in Sao Paulo. Most people are so accustomed to it, they didn't pay the EXCLUSIVE HORROR plastered on the screen (or at least that's how the TV station branded the action).

Bank robberies happen everywhere, in every country, but I thought something interesting about watching this one play out in Sao Paulo, Brasil.

You've heard soccer announcers on internatinoal channels, right? They get HYPER excited about every action and the enthusiasm becomes hightened when the player approach the goal or comes close to scoring.

Well, the news announcer covering the robbery sounded JUST LIKE he was calling the play by play for a soccer game. Really, if you didn't see the pictures, and you couldn't understand the language, you would have thought you were hearing the commenators calling a soccer game.

I had to laugh. So I did, which did get a stare or two from people--what's this gringo laughing at a bank robbery for? And it's a HORROR EXCLUSIVE.

AHH, GRASSHOPPER

So I had an interview to teach english in a pretty prestigious language school here. I doubt they'll hire me because I have only a Tourist Visa, but we'll see...pay's not great, but it will offset some costs, and it's nice to save for winter, Grasshopper.

The best part of the interview was it was downtown, in the more business/historic section of Rio. If you didn't know you were in Brasil, some of the architecture looks like the 18th century architecture of Europe. It really was BEAUTIFUL.

I'll be back down there shortly to see some of the cool museums, etc. And hopefully take some pictures...I took a couple on my phone camera, but don't think that's working very well.

IT'S HOT ON THIS HOT TIN ROOF, KITTY

Today was HOT HOT HOT. Or at least it felt it because I had to dress in business casual for my interview. I was sweating so bad...and just my luck, the subway car I chose to hop on didn't have the A/C working. By the time I got to my appointment, my shirt was soaked through...blue shirts don't do well in hot climates...they change from baby blue to Navy blue VERY quickly.

Anyway, when I finally got home, I tore of my clothes, put on a suit and ran for the beach. The water felt so cool, refreshing, and calming--even if one wave pounded me into the sand.

After, I stood on the beach and just took in the sunset in such a beautiful setting until I'd cooled down, relaxed and ready to walk back to my apartment.

Speaking of which, I've yet to turn on my A/C in the apt for more than 10 minutes, and only once. At times, I do feel uncomofortably warm, but I'm trying to live more like Brasilians do...on average.

It's not bad...really. No really...really. I mean, really.

I Wish I Could See Clearly Now

Is anyone out there except two people...reading my blog? I got two comments back on the screenplay. Both aren't reading it...I'm gonna put off writing any more of that until tomorrow. Please tell me if you're reading it or not.

Steve Spielberg...are you reading my screenplay? If so, call me...I'll have ME call YOUR Girl.

SO WHAT DO YOU DO, ANYWAY

It's a common question that most men ask each other within the first five minutes of introduction-- well, two minutes of conversation. It's kind of a modern day way to find out where you fit on the Maleness heirarchy ladder. Brains trumps manual labor. Brains and Money trump Brains and Book Smarts. Celebrity and Social Awareness can trump them all. Doctors, right up there on the top rung--unless it's a Doctor followed by a PHD...you're back down with the Book Smarts guys. Evolutionary processes can be messy.

So of course, while here, every person I've meet asks me the question, "what do you do, anyway"--it apparently crosses cultural and geographic boundaries.

I blurt out something in elementary portuguese that satisfies them..."I do my work on the internet from my work in the states", or something like that.

But it's a vague answer. Vague because I really don't have an honest answer.

What do I do? Why am I here? Where am I going from here?

All very good questions, and all very "ify" at best, at this point in my life.

Fifty. Yes, 50...you're supposed to be settled, on the down-hill slope towards retirement. Kids married, out of the house. You're slowing down, enjoying the fruits of your labors.

Fruits...labors.

Um, well, I'm here enjoying fruits of all kinds, but labor...not so much. The fruits of my labors kind of evaporated about one year ago to this month. And to be honest, it was a big blow. Bigger than I originally thought. Big enough to make me completely change my lifestyle, my living situation, my income, and my plans for the future.

Did I fail, or did my work situation fail me. Or if I'm really honest with myself, is it really one and the same?

So close...to all those 50's activities I should be doing, and with one press conference in some foreign country, with three executives that each could be holding a letter, D, H, L, and all of those dreams are now gone. Poof. POOF. And shortly thereafter, a twin turban jet's engines and 11 hours later, I'm living in Rio de Janeiro and writing a blog.

What do you do anyway...um, I really can't say.

Pass the fruit please.

CATCH THE WAVE

Big waves on the beach today...LIKE big ones. After the sixth big wave pounded me into the shore, I got out and watched the 100's of people enjoying them with care or worry.

And interesting waves they were.

The ocean would be calm for 4 minutes or so, and then a wave of new waves would stealth their way into shore. They seemed to come from no where...and they didn't really seem that big, but when they got closer to the shore, they packed a force unthought of just 30 seconds earlier.

As I stood on the beach watching, my mind went back to the Tsunami victims in Southeast Asia a couple of years back. They must have had no clue, just another beautiful day at the beach, and then BAM, it hit and they were gone.

It kind of freaked me out, actually...so I packed up my towel and went back to the apartment.

SO THIS IS THE BEST VIEW IN THE CITY

This evening, a friend took me up to the base of one of the favelas (slums). Well, it's not like he took me, we just walked up this street--the same street that passes by my apartment. Up a zig zag winding cobblestone road, and a couple hundred yards of height increase, he announced that this was the start of the favela. I looked, and the ramshackle houses were packed one on top of the other as if miracuosely attached to the steep hillside. But the good thing for them, is they really must have amazing views of the city. AMAZING. No money, but awesome views. It's like a little bonus for being dirt poor. "We can't eat today Dear, but would you LOOK at that view".

I wonder if any of them had their life's career taken from them too, like maybe one year ago today.

I know I didn't see any DHL delivery trucks in the area.

With My Brasilian Bonnet

Of all the smells on a Sunday in Rio, someone in or near my apartment is making or eating buttered popcorn. It smells SO good. YUM. I'm about to go knocking on doors, but my windows are open and not sure...it might be coming from anywhere--upstairs--across the street.

A GAY OLD TIME

So it just happens to be Gay Pride here in Rio this weekend, and they had a parade down Copacabana Beach. It was scheduled for 2 p.m., but it rained most of the day, and I think they moved it back to like 4:30 or something. I decided to walk down to the beach and take a look and what I found were thousands of people, mostly soaked to the skin--and most were showing a lot of it--and I'd say a good majority pretty drunk. But most seemed pretty happy regardless of it all. Nothing like alcohol to make people happy.

The music was loud, the crowd thick, and lots of trash everywhere. I have to say I didn't really like it so much, but I guess a sight to see.

I've decided I'm not a big fan of parades in general, much less gay pride parades.

And the moral of the story is, DON'T EVER have a parade in the RAIN.

MOVE ON, JUST MOVE ON

It's my last week in the apartment. I'm pretty sure the landlady is somehow going to screw me out of some of my deposit so today I took the first step...

I sent her an e-mail thanking her for the stay, told her I was prepared to leave the place in great shape, but unless she was ready to give me the full refund, I'd consulted with a real estate lawyer and she'd advised me to not leave the apartment until that happens. (I kind of fibbed on that part...I've never spoken to anyone about it who knows Brasilian law).

The ball is in her court...we'll see what she does.

SCREEN-PLAY IT AGAIN SAM

Ok, it's been a week, I'm on page 9 (about 9 minutes into the movie), and I'm wondering if you guys are even reading it.

If you are and like it, respond to today's posting and say yea or nay. It won't hurt my feelings either way.

FORLORN HOPE

Page 9, 10

EXT. WASHINGTON D.C. STREET - MORNING

An elegant tree-lined street with stately mansions. Washington monuments in the b.g. Women and men walk the sidewalks.

EXT. ELIZA DONNER HOUGHTON'S HOUSE

An impressive Victorian. Summer in full bloom.

INT. ELIZA DONNER HOUGHTON'S HOUSE, ELIZA'S DRESSING ROOM

Eliza sits at her dressing mirror. Her servant, FREIDA, late 20's, a Paiute Indian, fastens Eliza's corset.

ELIZA

I don't believe I have an option, Sherman. I

simply must go.

SHERMAN (O.S.)

You could stay put.

Freida tightens the corset.

ELIZA

Freida, must you bind me like a papoose? I must

breath.

FREIDA

Sorry Miss Eliza. You like it--

Eliza gives a "stop talking" look.

SHERMAN (O.S.)

We'll be returning to California in less than two

months. Can't he wait?

Eliza stands and begins to exit the room but is restrained by Frieda's firm grasp on the strings. Eliza turns, pulls the srings from Freida's hands and exits through a central

HALLWAY

and into

SHERMAN'S BEDROOM

where Sherman's tying his tie. Freida stands at the door.

ELIZA

To squelsh this malicious lie once and for all can

only help your re-election efforts. And it's what we've

dreamt for some time.

Sherman looks at her in disbelief.

ELIZA

Okay, I've dreamt it. My Mother's diary...I simply

must go. I'm, well, I'm tired of having everything I...

we work so hard to have that...eh, lie footnooted to it.

SHERMAN

Darling, it's been thirty-five years. Can't it wait

another week?

Eliza helps him with his tie.

ELIZA

I've learned to never wait, not even a day. I'm

leaving on the next train.

SHERMAN

You can't go alone and I'm in session.

ELIZA

Freida will accompany me.

SHERMAN

Do I have a say in this?

ELIZA

You do, but this time you'll lose by one vote.

He stands on his tiptoe and kisses him.

SHERMAN

Ahh, that same one vote.

EXT. TRAIN STATION - MORNING, NEXT DAY

Eliza, Sherman and Freida stand on the platform.

ELIZA

If the injuns don't get us, we'll be back in no time.

Sherman looks at Freida, then Eliza.

ELIZA

Freida, ohh, not you Freida. You're one of the good

ones. Couldn't live without you.

Freida doesn't smile. The train WHISTLES.

CONDUCTOR (O.C.)

All aboard.

ELIZA

We'll be fine.

She thrusts her hands into her pockets and the RATTLE of wax paper is heard. She gets a contented look on her face.

SHERMAN

I do wish you'd stay.

Eliza pulls from her pockets two wrapped candies, places one in Freidas hand and then directs her onto the servants section, where primarily African-Americans are boarding. Eliza hands hte second candy to Sherman. He takes it, without question.

ELIZA

I'll telegraph you when I arrive.

She steps on the train and blows him a kiss. She's gone. The train jolts forward.

Sherman waves to nothing.