Back to School

A Hillbilly in Brazil Edition


Ana and I went to a Private High School this morning, some friends of her family own and operate, trying to see if she could enroll me into some classes as either an American abroad or failing that as her mongoloid son. It was a good meeting in which I understood little to nothing of what was being said but that isn't so unusual for me. So I am going....

They have paired me up with the English teacher named Claudinea, I am going to be his assistant from America if you can believe that. It is going to be a wild ride that much is for sure. I guess it will work out  the kids will talk to me and I will talk to them hopefully the language will stick in the brain somehow. Lucky for the kids I am from the South which means I talk slow as hell. Unfortunately for me I am sure all these kids will talk fast, that teamed up with my hearing loss from working in factories will make things rougher for me. 

It is going to be interesting to say the least. 

The Summer Cold from Kentucky

Hillbilly in Brazil Edition

     My first few days so far in Brazil have been trying to get reacquainted with everything and also trying to shake this summer cold that has been with me the day before I left the states. Sleep with the window open one night and pay the consequences for the next damn week. I imagine it was brought on also by stress and being generally run down from painting a 12 hour day for two days.
    So I've been cooped up in the house for the most part, trying to get better. I have finally gotten passed the sore throat and sinus drainage phase and the coughing is now down to a few in the morning but still what a miserable way to start things off so far. That and I couldn't lay a big smooch on my girlfriend after I cleared customs because of germs, not that it mattered seeing that my girlfriend wasn't even at the airport when I cleared the gate.
    
     I can't complain, she did show up eventually which is a good thing because I had know idea where to find the airport bus that goes to Santos. They would have lost me at oi. I cannot explain the joy it was to see her again after 8 months but I don't think I could properly explain myself due to sleep deprivation, Dramamine overdose and having my spine temporarily realigned thanks to the plane seats. Also the fact that the Chili's burger and fries that I ate the night before had caused such a painful bloating that my stomach, much like the Grinch's heart, had grown three times it's normal size. Not exactly the most attractive way to greet your girlfriend obviously.

    We left the airport after Ana had a coffee and hit the road through Sao Paulo, down the hill towards Santos. Well, I guess hit isn't exactly the right word, we lurched because of the Saturday morning traffic but we were moving, ever slowly to Santos, BBQ,  Bohemia beer and a big soft mattress to sleep for 10 hours upon.

Hola, Adeus, I´m Back Again.

 Hillbilly in Brazil Edition

Friends and enemies ask me if I was scared to be flying to Brazil again. My reply was that only two things bothered me about my flight, Sam driving me to the airport and getting my huge camera/computer backpack through security. The first part of that is rather easy to explain, Sam is probably one of the worst drivers I know. He doesn´t wear a seatbelt, I don´t really think he can see very well because of the long hair in his face and he tends to drive his car like a cruise ship. Bobbing and swerving over the lines, never a gradual stop or acceleration always blast of one or the other. All I can say is that Sam is a lot better than he used to be, back in the days when he would pull out in front of Log trucks or hit cars and not even know about it until the cops pulled him over.
Turns out I shouldn't have worried about Sam´s driving, he got me there in one piece and I was only terrified once or twice during the entire trip which is about the normal times I get terrified driving down I-65. As for my carry-on bag I shouldn't have worried because some people were trying to take pianos on-board.
 I have to say that I enjoyed the Houston airport a lot more this time when I didn't have to knock old ladies over and jog/run all the way across the airport to get to the International Terminal. Struggling for breath and handing over my passport and ticket like a madman which I am sure they are used to seeing. This time I had a four hour layover affording me enough time to eat at Chili's Too and have what looked like a barrel of beer with a handle.
I had high hopes that the beer mixed with the dramamine would effectively knock me out for the nine hour flight to Sao Paulo but it had little or no effect at all. Obviously hard alcohol will have to be tried on the return flight. It is a delicate procedure, you don't won't to show up completely zonked out of your head, the days are over where they will just push you onto the plane and slam the door shut. Now they took you to a dark room with no windows and a metal desk and ask you questions while you shiver in the nude under a light. So I am told.

Most of the plane ride down to Brazil is a blur, I remember being excited that I could watch Iron Man 2 for the inflight movie but like most things the cover was misleading. My choices were a Jennifer Lopez movie in which she gets knocked up, has a dog that was in a wheelchair and about ten different CSI's. I didn't watch any of these though I caught glimpses of other people watching it. The scene were the crippled dog eats J Lo's pregnancy test and she returns to find it in the brownest wettest shit ever told me all I ever needed to know about this movie. Romantic Comedy huh. I have to say I am not a woman but I think anytime a shit joke is used in a movie that it should automatically be disqualified from being Romantic.
CSI just looks like bullshit to me, complete and utter bullshit. Some guy in a lab coat solves a murder in 24 hours, get the fuck out of here, I don't care how brooding David Caruso looks it ain't going to happen.

Sleeping on a plane is about damn impossible unless you can afford to get first class in which you rest on bed made of chocolate feathers and are served champagne by young trim fit stewardesses. Back in economy (aka coach aka third class, you know the people that drowned on the Titanic) your seat is upright or slightly upright and the one feather in your pillow doesn't really give much in the way to comfort. I slept in ten minutes shifts, I think I got about 4 hours all in all if you add them all together.

Landed in Sao Paulo, handed over all my documents and got stamped the quickly ran to take the longest piss in history or my history. Sometimes you just have to say the hell with the fucking luggage and hope it will still be spinning on the thing while you drain a few liters out of your bladder. I have no fear of pissing on airplanes but the woman sitting next to me seemed so peaceful that I didn't want to wake her while in flight. Damn stupid southern gentlemen crap, if I had been born a Yankee I could have woke her with either my ass or crotch in here face while I hurled ineffective "excuse me's" behind me as I pushed people out of the way to the air pisser.

But noooooooooooooooooooo!

Eastbound and Up (On The Road to NYC)

      Ana and I awoke late in DC as usual, like I said in the previous blogs the Brazilian Sleeping Sickness is a bitch. After drinking free coffee, brushing teeth and frantically shoving clothing into bags, making sure we hadn't forgotten anything we drug our overloaded Steamer Trunk downstairs in time to wait in line to check out. Unfortunately for us a boatload of Europeans had landed in the lobby, all wanting to stay at the Days Inn, Washington DC. All twenty were jabbering and frothing to get their rooms at 8 in the morning and we were trying to get the the hell out of the place. Our bus to New York City wouldn't wait forever and the tickets were non-refundable.
     You see Ana found this bus service called MEGABUS that has trips between DC and NYC for $1 if you book enough in advance. Of course I didn't book enough in advance so our tickets combined cost a whopping $26 but still we didn't want to miss our cheap bus. So after waiting for the Euro to get out of the way, I handed in our flimsy plastic hotel cards, signed a few forms and off we hustled to the Metro Station with no working escalator, thump, thump went the 600lb bags. The Metro doesn't run as often on weekends and I cannot complain about that because walk into any state Capital or City Hall on a Sunday and you might see two people farting around and both of those people are probably hungover trying to find their car.
     We made it a few letters from our street which was H and we ran two blocks to get to the bus in time. I remember dragging those heavy bags toward the parking lot where the bus was to be waiting for us. We rounded a corner and saw two or three buses loading passengers but only one had the HUGE Megabus sign. I handed our IDs and Tickets to a man with a clipboard who checked our names off, placed a tag on our bags and tossed them to Isaac Hayes who placed them in the back of the bus. Ana and I clambered upstairs to the top of the double decker bus and got situated, Ana wondered if she had time to go and get something to eat or a coke but it wasn't five minutes after she said this that the bus lumbered to life and started moving out of Washington DC and toward The Big Apple.

      After calming down from our mad sprint which I would find out later would become a theme throughout our DC-NYC-Boston trip, we sat back and enjoyed the A/C. There really wasn't anything else to do for the 4 1/2 hours other than to gawk out the windows. To tell you the truth, I was like a kid in a candy store because I had never been this far into the northeast before in my life. Luckily this was a double decker bus so instead of looking out the window and seeing the side of an 18 wheeler I could see over trucks for the most part. I took this time to clean my camera lens and rubberneck and Ana tried to sleep off her sleeping sickness that and she did take an allergy pill and those make her drowsy. I wish I had her ability to sleep in a moving vehicle of that I am envious except when she is driving.
    A few times the bus stopped to pick up more passengers, the only stop that I remember clearly is Baltimore in a Mall parking lot.. The bus got to the stop and a few people loaded on with their baggage and tickets ready. After sitting there for at least 15 minutes this silver VW Station Wagon pulled up and just as a boy with a NY University tshirt and his father got out of the car the bus started moving. The look on the fathers face was priceless to say the least, with his hands raising over his head and what I can only assume were the words "What the hell" as he watched the bus slowly crawl away, stranding him with his son for a few more hours until the next bus. If there is one thing I have learned with these trips with Ana is that you shouldn't be ashamed to run after your transportation, unless of course it is a NYC Subway then you should just give up.

    We reached New Jersey and I think it can best be summed up by a George Carling quote "You can't back out of your driveway without some prick in a vest wants fifty cents" and "You can't get good gas mileage in New Jersey cause you are a constant state of slowing down". It is hard to judge a state while you are on the road though and most of what I know about the state comes in the form of Springsteen and The Soprano's. Still, it looked nice out the window.

      The Megabus pulled into a Gas Station/Rest Stop in New Jersey about 2 hours from NYC and I thought we were picking up more people. I was halfway right, we were making a personal stop for the bus driver, I will explain. The best way I could and will describe our bus driver is imagine if Barry White and Isaac Hayes had a LOVE CHILD. Unfortunately he didn't take on much of either parents award winning personality. In fairness, I imagine his attitude was brought on with dealing with the public and bad drivers all day plus a bad case of hemorrhoids. That combination would make anyone a little bit grouchy. So Barry Hayes walks up to the second floor of the bus counting as he is walking along the aisle telling people to stay in their seats and if you have ever been in a plane you probably know how many times he had to say that to get that point across. (This being Isaac White though it took about 3 times, if he had been a little white female stewardess it would have taken 150). Mr. Whitehayes starts telling us that this isn't a scheduled stop but a personal stop, he is going to park the bus here for 15 minutes and when those 15 minutes are up the bus is going to be leaving with or without all the passengers. Everyone busts ass to take a piss and buy a coke from the gas station getting back in time for Mr Whitehayes to smoke a cigarette, make his count, straighten his Kangol. The Megabus slouches toward NYC.

Beer Garden???

    I went to the International BBQ Festival 2010 last night in Owensboro after watching Iron Man 2 for shits and giggles. All I can say is I don't remember it sucking this bad 6 years ago. I don't know, maybe it was the missing Big E Hotel or the fact that they are still working on extending the Riverwalk an extra 100 feet but it just wasn't the same. Also I don't think I have seen so many Cops in one place in all my life, even Mardi Gras didn't have this many cops walking around the French Quarter in 2000. I think it was at least 10-20 policemen walking around at the BBQ Fest ready at a moments notice to walk around even more. I guess if a riot broke out or the terrorist struck then we'd have lots of armed cops around us frantically trying to get that one bullet out of their front pocket. I saw a few firemen as well but you know, I'm down with Firemen for that whole EMT training that they all have. Let's face it, you have a bunch of fat fucks, add unhealthy food and lots of walking and you have the recipe for that stomach ache that starts in your left arm and moves to your chest filling like an elephant is standing on it.  I have to say the worst part of the entire ordeal was the sham of a beer garden.
     So you go to the Beer Garden, give the guy your ID, then you walk past and give the girl a $1 and she wraps a bracelet on you certifying that you are indeed over 21. Then you walk all the way to the other side to buy beer tickets, the will insure you that you can get a beer, they cost $3. Then you walk back from which you came to the beer tent to trade your ticket in for a beer. If you leave the area you have to pay another $1 to get back into the Garden. I had one, then after I left I went to J's Liquor and bought a sixer of Dos Equis for $8 or 2 trips to the Beer Garden. Screw your Lameness Beer Garden. You see, sometimes the Private Market does work a lot better than something that is ran by the Government. Now that I look back on the night, I wish I had gone down 2nd and grabbed the little twerp Tea Party Protester with his tri-cornered hat and stupid placard and carried him down to the Beer Garden to really protest Government Inadequacy. I'm sure he wouldn't have grasped the concepts I would have laid on him but still, maybe I could convince him of how communist the beer garden concept really was, employing 4 people to do the job of one really good bartender. Then again, anyone standing in the middle of the street with a hat that hasn't been in fashion for over 200 years who isn't selling Captain Morgans Rum probably should be given a wide berth. 
    I understand that we must protect our kids from the evils of alcohol at every step but having to go through 4 people for one beverage is just plain ridiculous. Compounded by the fact that the Beer Garden was also part of the enclosed area that houses a band stand with a nice local band on stage with all their amps set to 11 made it even more unbearable. What happened to the days of just sitting on a picnic table drinking a beer with just the sun shining on you while kids looked at you funny for sitting in a roped off area. Now you have to be forced to go deaf just cause you want a beer. Besides, I'm 34 years old, I've been to New Orleans and Brazil, the novelty of drinking a beer outside in public wore off a long time ago. Not to mention the fact that a short drive up the Ohio River you can go to a number of bars in Evansville all with outside patios and one person to bring you the beer. 
     Maybe I'm just complaining cause I was alone and didn't have my GF with me to make things more entertaining, I don't know. 

Round and Round

Barter Town

Day 3 in DC: Dupont Circle and the Giant Ivory Penis

Woke up at 7am and snuck (sneaked) out of the hotel to get Ana something for breakfast while she slept or recovered from her coma. This feat is made easier by the fact that Ana can sleep through just about any form of noise, vigorous shaking or light show. I imagine a cartoon figured brass band running in front of her hotel bed wouldn't illicit much more than a snort and maybe, possibly a roll over in response. Brazilian Sleeping Sickness is no laughing matter, it affects 100% of the Ana's I know.

I got on the Metro to Dupont Circle where we had breakfast the previous day at Firehook Bakery. I bought us a croissant and a blueberry muffin each and hooked a ride back to the Days Inn. Grabbing some coffee in the lobby, shook start my girlfriend into an almost upright position and got ready for our tour of the Washington Monument. We were already late but early birds are nerds and if I have learned anything about US being together is we love to chase down an appointment.. It didn't help matters that the Metro obviously doesn't run full out on weekends so instead of the reliable 2 or 3 minutes between cars was now 5-7 minutes. Also the Metro really doesn't dump you in the middle of The National Mall but rather 6 miles from Washington Monument. That isn't a complaint, just an observation plus I understand not wanting a huge subway entrance in the middle of the National Mall.

Our closest stop was the Smithsonian which we exited after running around a bunch of yokels having problems figuring out the Metro turnstiles and getting their dimwitted kids together. Then getting on the escalator and the fatass that just stands on the right side, oh I'm so tired from sitting on the Metro now I just have to stand and block the walking lane and rest. Dammit can't you people see that I have 10:30 tickets to the Damn Washington Monument and it is already 10:20, get the fuck out of the way. Walking as fast as we could, 10:30 tickets in hand we raced toward the Washington Monument past crowds of tourist, joggers and Walk Against Lupus walkers to arrive with moments to spare. By moments I mean we got there on time but there was another 200 people who had also got there on time without having to run 2 miles.

     Entering anything in DC requires dumping your pockets and taking off your coat and backpack, learn it, accept it, deal with it this is life after 9-11 and some assholes would blow up the world if they could. After a few days of this and traveling on airplanes I have learned that everything I own is made of metal. I myself might be made of metal. We rode up to the top with a Japanese Family and got the view for which this thing was intended.

I will let the photos speak for themselves, the view was outstanding though.

     After we got back to the ground, I decided to find a post office to mail the 100 some odd post cards that I had and Ana decided to sit in the Mall and rest her ankles. I went to the one Post Office that I saw first hand at Union Station and it was closed, closing or in some state of being closed. So another ten stops down the line I went to the other post office that I knew about, the one near the hotel. By near I mean at least 15 blocks but I found it, stood in line with the guy trying to ship jagged broken glass with a paper bag and baling string and got my damn post cards out to those who needed them. Soon to adorn the refrigerators and trashcans of friends and loved ones.

    I got back to Ana and we cruised the Mall and Museums finally getting to see a Pollock and a few Rothkos at the National Art Gallery. Finally a Pollock. That was certainly a highlight of the trip other than to visit or see the Capital of the United States of America but to also see two Pollocks up close. 

     Afterwards we walked back toward the Lincoln Memorial and on around to see the Thomas Jefferson as well. I have to say one thing about DC, everything is spaced out very, very, very well.

     It tooks us 18 hours to walk all the way around from The National Art Gallery, to The Air and Space Museum on down to the Lincoln Memorial around to see Franklin D Roosevelt and finally good ol' Tommy J's place. (Thomas Jefferson's head was full of cobwebs). 

     After that 22 miles of hiking we were definitely hungry so we lurched toward the Subway to Dupont Circle yet again. Where we paced up and down streets trying to decide what we wanted to eat that night, Chinese, Indian or Italian. Finally after much indecision we settled on an Italian Restaurant mainly because we were to tired to go any further. All I can say was the food was great, unfortunately it took us about 40 minutes to get the food or drinks for that matter. I wish I could say that our waiter was so busy or we weren't posh enough for the restaurant but actually neither of those things are true.  Or waiter came by and refilled our neighbors on both sides of us about 120 times while we sat there chewing on the menus from hunger. It wasn't our dress, we were surrounded by jeans and tshirts. It was almost absurd, our waiter would go to the table next to us with all the 50 somethings and then walk all the way around our table to wait on some Yuppies. This was made even better when the 50-ish couples next to us started talking about crime and dirty cities and the one smug old man started bad mouthing Brazil.

     Finally we got the bread guys attention long enough for him to send someone over with a piece of paper to take our orders. Then we finally got someone to get us some more to drink after setting fire to the napkins and waving them over our heads. The best thing after we got the bill which was the third time that our waiter came to our table and I gave him a $50 for the $35 dollar meal he wanted to know if I needed change back. Yes I said, I want some change back. Actually I wanted all my change back and I got it all. I'm not a mean person, I know waiters, cooks and busboys do hard work and I always try to leave as much as I can. Even when I was broke and eating mustard and saltines through the week I always tried to leave the bartender something. This guy got nothing and I don't feel a bit bad about it, I might be a hillbilly but I still tip when treated decent. 

Conan and Leno: My 2 Cents

I really don't know what NBC was thinking, having 4 Late Night talk shows in a row sounds like ratings poison to me or anyone else who doesn't have their own personal parking space. Conan's ratings are down against Letterman so we have to change all the deckchair on the Titanic? Letterman has probably had more exposure this year than since he had his heart surgery ten years ago. First with the Palin controversy then with his Extortion Case and cheating on his then live in girlfriend people have been tuning into to Dave more this year. Also, it was just silly to begin with to have Leno then Conan, how are you supposed to get used to something new if you are still hanging on to the old stuff. You don't get a new girlfriend and still live with your ex do you. Again this is neither Jay or Conan's fault but to me if they have to get rid of someone dump Jay, the guy that was going to retire anyway. You would think Jay would be gracious enough to step out anyway but I guess he is thinking that Doritos hasn't called him sell more shit to bovine America in awhile.
Really in the bigger scope of things, who really cares I mean Conan wants to preserve The Tonight Show but things have changed since Johnny left. Every channel has a late night talk show, we are flooded with them doing silly monologues that aren't really even worth talking about the next day around the unemployment office.
Also seeing that most or all of these channels now are owned by big conglomerates and corporations that own all the music, movies and publishing in this country, really all these Late Night Shows have just become QVC with a bigger outreach. I mean, they have always been about selling stuff with a little entertainment thrown in but the last decade it has become rampant. Long gone are the days when Jonathan Winters would just show up and talk for 10 minutes or any number of celebs that were close to the host. That and every 30 minute program has to have 10 minutes of commercials so forget about just rambling on about nothing in general. Jon Stewart on The Daily Show has gone to posting interviews that went over the 5 minutes of alotted time on The Daily Shows website. Makes you feel a little ripped off knowing that you had to set through 8 Jameson Whiskey commercials and 9 Transformer 2 ads with Shia LePoof screaming "Optimus" to watch the stinking interview that is only 5 minutes long, 3 if you subtract the 2 minutes of glad handing to be told to go watch it on the website. What happens when you load it on the site, you have to sit through a fucking commercial before you can watch it. Of course that only happens occasionally when they do have someone on worth listening to, when it isn't the movie of the week crap.