End of an Era

I started to dislike “sex and the city.” Yes, I admit it, I watched all the episodes, probably a couple of times already and I decided that it does not entertain me as much as depressing me.

The show not only makes me depressed when I see that three 30-something women—plus one that pushes fifty—still dress and act as if they were 20, and despite being smart and educated professionals, the only goal of their lives seem to get married to a “Mr. Big.” And unfortunately they are the female role models of our generation!

I used to love watching the show, I was living in Havana then, in a super sane relationship with a great guy, and boring Havana nights were brightened with couple of episodes of SATC in our bedroom, projected to our 18 feet tall walls. To me the show meant a lot, not for its content but what it made me remember: watching it every Sunday night with my girl friends in New York City, thinking—all of us—hope we won’t end up like these women!

I left Havana, where the concept of Sex and the city existed in a different way, people had (are having) sex all the time in Havana and do not make a big deal with whom, or where, or why. People cheat, fall in love, break up, but there are no complications. Cuban do not complicate their personal lives, but they are quiet dramatic! (you have to live there to understand that). And the idea of finding a Mr. Big only means one thing in Cuba, and that is not necessarily a rich/have it all/stud.

Life outside Havana, i.e Istanbul, New York, or like right now South Cone (Buenos Aires/Montevideo) changed since I left 4 years ago. I meet people, women mostly, and I recognize the talk, the attitude, the clothes. Almost all of them want to be Carries, or Charlottes…few Samanthas--of course now I meet more people who are married, with kids, or about to go that way comparing to 4 years ago-- Living their lives to be appreciated, physically, by men, receiving a diamond, accepting the “happily ever after”—as Orhan puts it.

Women, almost kill each other –and themselves—to be “loved.” They sacrifice everyday for a good fuck, or a perfect boyfriend, sometimes it does not matter. They sweat at gyms, get waxed, spend thousands of dollars in outfits, move around, cook, give birth, etc. all for men it seems, there are not a lot of us who do all that stuff just to be happy by ourselves.

Is it SATC’s fault to put it in our faces? No, for the skeptics at least, the show tell us the truth. If you are pretty enough, and know to finish a sentence, you are going to end up with a “Mr. Big” who sooner or later will enter your life and sweep your feet off the ground—and therefore we have to be ready for that moment, and try our best to be chosen as soon as possible, preferably before we hit 35.

Why there are not any tv shows that has a protogonist who is an unmarried/divorced 40 something professional woman, who is surrounded by younger/older men who do anything to be acknowledged by her? Maybe if we had these tv shows, the world would be a totally different place, as we all know that most of the children learn from tv not their families or schools.

I am fed up with going out with a mediocre jerk, listening to his stupid stories, or going out and being introduced to someone who could be “perfect” for me to be honest with you. I am also fed up with listening or telling stories about men, boyfriends, husbands, lovers, everytime there is a group of us (girls) doing something. (this is going to sound way to reactionary but why can’t we talk about global warming? A subject that is much more important than our vaginas. We can also talk about the pharmaceutical companies and how they control our health, the street kids in our corner (did we every pay them as much attention as how our asses look in jeans? I seriously doubt it).

I don’t want to be introduced to anymore overly arrogant dorks, or self-conscious geniuses, emotionally paralyzed hysterics, coming-out-of-age-mommy’s-little-latin-boys, sexually confused middle class kids!

I don’t want to give or be given advice either about how I should treat men so that they stick around, how skinny I should be so that they think I am beautiful, not talk too much so that they don’t feel “threatened by my intelligence” (I love this one)! I cannot stand this double standard, after so much that we have to endure, we also have to make sure they feel comfortable, instead of them learning how to have bigger balls, and take life as the was we do.

Maybe these perfect men do not exist because we do not demand as much as we should. Something to think about!

Almost time to leave....Saudade Sinks in

Since my life came back to its normal (i.e. no more parties, trips to the beach and/or Brazil, friends from other parts of the world) and redundant state once again, even though it is not preferable for a long time, I have to say it makes me feel more as one of the rest than when I am distracted with great priveleges of being a foreigner.

What is really sad is that I am divided in half, one part said it is time to move on, leave your not-so-great job, this not-so-great city; the other part keeps confronting with realities: I got used to this place, I have great friends, I know its streets, its culture, its traditions, even a little bit of its slang. When I mentioned to my friends that I was going to leave, they seemed sincerely sad! So did I.

I am also a bit tired of this life style already. It was a lot of fun at the begining, and maybe I was younger than, had more energy to move around, air travel, shlepping my belongings from one end of the world to the other. Not anymore. That is why I decided to keep my one and only place, my cupula, intact, until I settle somewhere else, for good (and if that day does not come for some reason, cupula can always be my base, especially in summer time!)

This morning I woke up, made expresso, watered my plants and washed my face meanwhile, got dressed, listened to samba to wake-up (loud), clean up the living room, left what I need to do tonight on my kitchen table, took the trash out, as I was walking out the door I saw my newspaper (Damian's daily newspaper, La Diaria, came out yesterday) waiting for me! Picked it up, got in a bus, read my paper while in it, got out, stop by at my Almacen (grocery store around the corner from my office) where I bought fresh plums, chit chat with the guys who work there....I am going to miss that so much... I am going to miss my friends at the gym, my cosmotologist Marlene, the women at the Eco Tienda, the staff at the laundromat, needless to say Titi, Mauro, Daniel, Fernanda, Lorena, Mattiolis, my collegueges, my neighbors....

I don't want this place to dissapear and become a memoir, I don't want it to be far from me basically.

*I took this picture recently during one of those incredible sunsets that leaves my apartment orange...the cute baby is me with my annemo when I was 1 year old!

Buenos Aires after Rio...with a French twist (a bitter one)

I have not written about what we have done in Buenos Aires with Peggy, Ali and Orhan Abi.
The funniest part of those days was definetely staying in Boedo, in a "boutique hotel" owned by a bitchy french guy, Thibaud, who happened to have a baby while we were there and the hotel stayed without a boss, which caused many misunderstandings. He was a total asshole but we being very demanding did not help either, I admit it. We acted as the hotel was our house (for the price he charged, cold croissants and bad coffee was unacceptable) and he did not like that so much.

We did all the tourist things, and because I have written about them before I am not going to mentioned those. Cori took us to a Milonga one night, and Peggy found a whole in the wall parillada in San Telmo (the food was awesome), Ali spend hours at the cd and dvd stores, and Orhan enjoyed being in a big city after being in la Pedrera for months! I went out with him to Van Koening, Pablo's beer bar and had a lot of beer, his own called OtroMundo!

Aside from discovering the new stuff in Palermo, strolling in San Telmo, eating good food; there were also instances that these roadtrippers had to survive, such as airlines being in greve, different point of views about what is the best way of doing things, how to get to where,etc. We did not kill or hurt each other though, we survived!

Viva Corcovado!

As my annemo (granma) told me before I left for Rio, I visited the super-toursity attraction of this beautiful town, el Corcovado, a.k.a. the biggest jesus statue in the world. And as you see from the picture, it is quite big and powerful.

I don't particularly like places with a lot of tourists, but hung out there for an hour or so, watching the sunset, and later the beautiful Rio to lighten up for the night. (The strong lights you see on the right side of the photo is Sambodromo)

Later that night we went to eat at Ali Abi's favorite restaurant, la Churrascaria, a brazilian grill where they serve you all you can eat meat and salad for a mere $20 US! I was stuffed with sushi even before the meat arrived, and believe me, it was hard to swallow after the third round of charcoal grilled prime beef, and all sorts of other delicious specialties of the house. Ali insisted that we share the chocolate souffle at the end of our dinner, thank god I went out dancing afterwards, and did not stop until the early hours of the morning, in order to digest all that food!

Day after Sambodromo!

Here is me with my "fantasia" (costume). When I arrived in my hotel around 8 am, instead of sleeping, I decided that I should just go on with my day, and take a long nap later during the day.

After breakfast, Ali Abi and I left our hotel and toured the Central part of town, then we decided to visit one of the coolest neighborhoods in Rio called, Santa Tereza.

Santa Tereza was built at the end of the 19th century, when Rio was struck with Yellow Fever. The rich left the old city and built a new neighborhood on the hills, which later lost its glamour. Now it is an artsy neighborhood, with beautiful veiws and very nice old buildings.

Live from Sambodromo

Sambodromo was definitely the highlight of my trip. I did not take my camera with me to this amazing event—even the cariocas scared me talking about thieves all the time—but everything is in my memory and will stay there until I die. I have not been to Olympic games ever but I imagine this was if not better, similar to the size and grandeur of it.

I met up with Stephen’s friend Ricardo again at the Batafago Bar in Ipanema, he was there with his cousin and some other friends. It was around 1 am, we left the bar and “pegamos” a bus to the center of town where the famous Sambodromo is located. Sambodromo is a 2 km long street, with tribunes and many entrances. Ticket prices differ from $200 US to 10 reales (approx $20 dolars), or even free (there is a popular tribune where people line up to get there super early and I don’t recommend it just because it is actually outside sambodromo, not inside, where schools line up before parading). Usually cheapest ticket options are sold months in advance and the free seats fill in the early hours of the day before the show.

The official parade of the Samba schools, there are 13 or 14 of them is divided in two. Sunday and Monday night, depending on their general ratings from previous years line up, seven schools the first night, and other seven the second night. Most samba schools if not all are located in favelas—shanty towns of Rio all around its periphery. Any individual can go and take classes, or join the parade by buying the costume from the school and meeting them hours before the parade, (at the concentraçao) where they are given basic instructions by the Apoai (group leaders). Each school has a theme and have up to 10 Alas (ailes), and 5 carts which reflect this theme. The participation price to the parade depend on what ala you want to be—or can be—and school. You may have to go to Rio a couple of days before or find an agency on the internet that would love to arrange it all for you for a wholesome price. Before entering Sambodromo I thought it was an overrated tourist trap to pay so much money to walk in the parade as if you were a real dancer, but now that I saw what it is, and how much passion and joy it brings to the participant, as well as the school’s regulars, it is definitely something I would do when I go back. I also recommend a good read, a book called Samba by Alma Guillermoprieto, a great writer who wrote about her one year learning samba in one of these schools.

Anyways, we got out of the bus, around the famous Central Station (the famous Walter Salles movie). Almost 10 block-radius around the stadium was already closed to traffic and there was an immense street party going on all around it. Aside from bars who had tables and chairs, there were people selling cheaper drinks, food, and weird Walking towards the ticket office, a dancer from one of the schools (which I am yet to find what is called), who had an amazing costume and a hat, when saw me looking with admiration to his outfit, said I could have his hat if I wanted to, so within the first 15mins I was there, I had a wonderful original costume! I put it on and started dancing immediatlely!

As we approached one of the 13 entrances to Suipacha (the name of the Sambodromo) ticket re-sellers approached us. They started off with 50 reales, but we managed to take their price down to 20, me being turk helped, I have to say, not only for my bargaining skills but also the seller and I got into futball talk, Tafarel, etc then we were friends, and also he said he was amazed with my eyes and that Sambodromo deserved such a "beleza" during carnival!

We got tickets for section 6, which was, of course, all the way other side of this outrageously big stadium. Started walking towards our entrance, half lost, some guy who spoke spanish perefectly told us to follow him, he was a guide working for a samba school, The famous Mangueira. I dont remember his name but we talked all the way, he was the son of a "turkish" family and he was very nice and invited me to go to his samba school next year and do the parade, which I decided I will do it, hopefully, no matter what!

We bought some beers, and walk up to the tribune, and after that, we partied until the early hours of the morning, dancing, watching the parade, drinking, talking with strangers. There were no fights, no disrespect, no crime. PLease if you ever go to Rio, be careful as you would in any big city, but I think it is not much more dangerous than the streets of Istanbul these days.

We were lucky enough to enter just in time to watch Vila Isabel's defile, the school that one this year, and needless to say it did deserve it, there was not one mistake at their parade, as my knowledgeable carioca friends explain.

The show ended around 7 am, and we all walked back from our tribune all the way to the bus stop, around 45 mins, by the time I came to the hotel, I was still so excited from what I have witnessed that could not sleep.

PS: This year's champs: Vila Isabel, their theme was a tribute to America's, funded with a huge contribution from Venezuela's Hugo Chavez. Smaller map is Sambodromo.