“Hey Rasta Girl!”
So I’m walking along Ipanema beach, trying to stretch my legs a little while I nurse a few injuries before heading to work at the Project when…
“Hey Rasta Girl!”
This was not said man’s first attempts to get my attention. A couple feet back I had heard the familiar cat calls but remained intent on listening to the DC trap music that was making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside with thoughts of home.
Homesickness has been gnawing away at my insides more than I would like to admit, and my hiatus from fighting is not helping. Taking walks along the beach that is 3 blocks away from the Favela where I live is a good reminder of how bad-ass my life is and how not homesick I should feel.
My therapy was interrupted by this man, apparently so attracted by my dreadlocks, that he felt the need to come running off the beach after me.
And then he starts “the spiel”.
Brazilians are known for their amazing asses, their exotic language, their beautiful beaches, and their godlike, steroid induced, out of this world abs… they are NOT, however, known for their originality, so I generally find myself rejecting the same lame sexual advances time and time again.
Within 5 minutes of meeting this strange man that was BBQing on the beach with a blonde girl and another person that I paid zero attention to, he offered me food, a joint, and… an orgy (with the blonde and/or two other girls). WTF, where do people get off nonchalantly offering sex to strangers as if it were exchanging business cards! How is that socially acceptable, better yet, how has that become the "norm".
I used to joke around and say if people want to date me they best come correct and bring a resume. Well, Dude came correct and wasted no time in dropping his credentials. A black belt from Gracie Barra, Gordo Jiu Jitus… name drop here, name drop there, and so on. It’s a small world because I actually know Gordo as well. Then he began to elaborate on a menu of women, 3 to be specific, that he had to dish up if I was one of those people that "preferred that kind of thing". I wasn’t impressed by his resume or anything else he had to offer, so I scurried away, popping my headphones back in my ear as I reflected on the situation that I had just escaped (oh we are now Facebook friends though).
Longboarding around Ipanema.
For fun and because I have no car!
Dating in Brazil is somewhat of a nightmare. Conversations like the previous one are not an anomaly, as Brazilians tend to be very straightforward in their sexual intentions, wasting no time in trying to get what they want. They circumvent unnecessary dating rituals like dinner and movies and go straight for, “Oh, you live alone, can I come by”.
Women, in turn, have acquired their own defense mechanism, demanding money. If men have lost the art of romance and the ability to swoon, fine. That leaves women to just straight up ask for what they want. Money to maintain hair, nails, bikini waxes (this is Brazil after all), and whatever other random desire they may dream up.
Flying kites in Galo...
3 blocks from the beach
So, yeah, romance has been reduced to a financial transaction. Sex something that a mutually beneficial act between two parties. Love has become obsolete.
If it wasn’t for my homeboy Birrin that spent HOURS and HOURS on end video chatting his MRS and 1yr old daughter during our recent trip to Brasileiros in South Paulo, I might have lost faith in men in general.
Around the Way...
Live from the Cantagalo Favela
A Seneagalese wrestler staying at Connection Rio
Stopped by the Cantagalo Favela to show us some of his moves
Random stuff often happens in the Favela
Padre Nuestro... Our Father...