“Hey Rasta Girl!”
“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.
But…
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...