travellingchel

I´ve just said goodbye to the Iracambi team for good. Virjilo made it sweet sweet sweet for me-he talked to me-and touched me on the arm or face or shoulder and connected with me-shared with me and let me share with him-as we walked to the bank together in the dying heat of Murie dusk-people still everywhere and kids just getting out of school-filling the narrow sidewalks so we could play ´meet again after the car´as we connected in portuguese. He was lovely. Alexandre tamben-as well-was lovely as he showed me his soaps at the rodoviaria in Murie where we all had met together-and spoke in english for me-the heat and time passing over me and me hardly aware of it passing. Gustavo and Karen came too, and Neia was there with her notebook for me to write in about Marcelos shirt which I wanted-and which they will make another for me. It was perfect-so perfect like so much of Iracambi for me-like dream or a book or good tea-too short and too long and just fine in the end-fine demais-almost t...

Bitter thrist in my throat always. Slipping down feef first, short backs painted brown with earth and mud-feet and legs torn up with scrathes-decoration ´de mata´-cathcing quasi falls by grabbing bamboo branches with both arms raised above me and feet nearly lifting off the ground and the bitter thrist in my throat always-a gift from the palmita like tree we cut open and chewed -and chewed more when it couldn´t kill our thrist-and more until it left us like this-always with the bitter taste of thrist in our throats. Stopping with Virjilho who thinks I´m lovely and me him-talking in portuguese and listening to the water close by-close by and guarded by thick and steep mata-learning the name of the fruit he is painting my face with and me his face in return-and always-the bitter taste of thrist in my throat-making these moments sweeter in contrast. The descent is so much faster than our rise-which was perfectly brasilian-Tony leading us to the path he thought he knew-and us blazing our o...

Things I find strange: I want to stay here and continue being a vegetarian for the rest of my time in brasil- I will eat meat when I travel for my last month here because so much comida brasileira is con carne and I want to experience it all- France is coming up soon and I haven´t chosen my hosts yet- France is coming up soon and all of my French is now portuguese- I´m sad that my portuguese will become french very very soon- I haven´t done tai chi in 2 weeks- I want to write-people -updates-the newspaper I´m in charge of here-and I haven´t - I can see myself here for too long -and I like this pensamente-this thought. I can´t decided whether to return here or not-and would I stay for so long if I did?

One more thing I find strange: .... people don´t leave comments on my blog- .... P.S. Feel free to leave any sort of comment-or just talk to me through leaving comments on my blog...I will find a way to respond.........

Marcelo´s bread is beautiful again. Tomorrow when he isn´t here and his bread is, I wonder how beautiful it will be. It´s soft inside but sesame seeds on the top and tempos demais-too much time- in the oven make it hard. Cutting it, hard-like the thought of my Brasilian memories-I fumble and make a mess of the bread-spilling little white crumbs over the plastic lid. Hard, hard, hard. My book-The Famished Road-and this bread-hard, and precious. Precious when I stop reading and can´t stop crying because it pressed me so fiercely to harsh reality -like burnt earthen walls -and the imprint of it stings my cheek and hands and knee fronts when I let go-when I´m free. Hard. What is it? Things feel hard today. My alarm didn´t go off again this morning and I missed my chance to travel with the beautiful Spanish woman-to camp and trek and eat fajitas and banana oatmeal cookies at waterfalls and view points on Parco do Brigodeiro -missed a week-end of fine and lovely memories-lost because I´m me ...

Receitas brasileiras Farofa: 4 cups of farhina trigo-flour 2 small cebolas-onions diced 1 can of milho-corn 2 ovos-eggs 3 cloves of alho-garlic minced 1 tbsp sal-salt 2 tbsp oregano 1 tbsp curry powder Heat oil with oregano in panela-pan and sautee onions Whip eggs Add ovos, salt and alho continue Stir in farhina slowly, adding oil as needed Add curry and corn –still stiring in flour and cook for 10-12 minutes Test and add salt/anything else you´d like to taste (For example-you can add fried potatoes as well) Serve hot and enjoy. Capachi-capati-Indian Recita (Not sure the name is spelled right...) 2 sprigs of any herb you enjoy (Mint, Oregano, Basil, Rosemary whatever you like) 1 cup of água-water 1 cup of farhina trigo-flour 1 tsp sal ½ tbsp açúcar marrom-brown sugar ¾ cup of sementes de sésamo-sesame seeds In a medium sized bowl, mix água, herb, sal, and açúcar. Slowly add farhina (more or less as needed) and sésamo until it holds together Roll out into 2 thin (1/2 a cm) circles In...

Truth is filling up my spaces-change like patches in old and moldy clothes. It can only be a good thing. I think this when thunder passes across Minas-thunder and more thunder and it sounds like war. What is Minas to me? It's this green-the green my hips and fingernails and knees hold inside them-which I think I will never get rid of. This green that is in so many places all over the world. Minas -it's a beautiful word and my lover and music and all this green. It's Iracambi and Brasil and thunder like war. Minas.. Minas... Minas....