A required shower before entry

October 25, 2011:  While queuing up on the side of the bus heading to the former colonial mining town of Ouro Preto, I noticed something that was quite concerning.  There was a man that had such a wretched odor that was not seeping from his pores, but more like stuck in his pores waiting to get onto the bus.  He smelled as if he might have been on a shower strike that past month – maybe two.  There are showers in most of the bus stations here in Brazil so it would have been nice if he bathed before putting on his fresh clean clothes – as I might be sitting next to him for the next 11.5 hours.

Occupying my seat there was nobody next to me…yet.  Calculating the number of seats and the number of obvious couples and families…I had a strong possibility that he was going to be my neighbor.  “Oh…nooooooooooo,” I thought.  I can just see his ripeness clinging to me for the next few days and here I too just put on fresh clean clothes.
 
As he entered the bus, he began his way down the aisle passing empty seat after empty seat looking at his ticket.  Closer and closer he came…each step taken was that of a snail being filmed in slow motion sliding slowly across aisle.  Approaching my seat he pauses, looking up at the seat numbers.  He was educated enough to thankfully match numbers as his ticket and the open seat next to me was not a match!

That was so close…so - so close as he sat two rows behind me next to a different sorry son-of-a-snitch.  I could still smell his ripeness…but at this distance, the odor will be somewhat bearable after my noises desensitizes.  It would be a wonderful policy at the bus terminal that would require you to shower before entering a bus, similar to how you are required to shower before entering a public pool.

Si, mother phucker

October 24, 2011: “Cappichino traditional por favor” (opps – Spanish), I said to the server. “Cappichano” he says back to me as if he was impersonating Frankenstein. “Si” (opps…Spanish again), I replied, giving him a huge smile because he seemed to need it. Not one muscle moved in his face. It was like he carelessly self injected 5 times the recommended dosage of Botox.

As he was walking away,“Si, mother phucker” seeped out between my lips in a low tone, thinking that if I said it too loud and he understood me, I would get more than just a cappachino – so so so sorry…I mean,“Cappichano.”

Photographs and Prostitutes

October 21, 2011: Today’s I was at the Luz metro station experimenting with shutter speed on my camera as the trains would come and go.  As this was taking place, I noticed a large number of sketchy looking guys around me – causing me to wrap the strap of my camera a few more times around my hand just in case they might be out shopping for a new camera.  

Not long after, I realized why there was such a large group of men…people watching.  They were not interested in my camera or photography or people watching, they were more into interested into dancing horizontally with the freelance entrepreneurs who were working the area - not that the vertical dance won’t be performed by the more creative and stronger men and flexible women.

These entrepreneurs were not your normal scantily dressed prostitutes who wore tattered clothes as they lurked around the station.  If the station was a junkyard these women could be classified as junkyard prostitutes - ones with much too much junk in the trunk and under the hood…with more than likely some mold in the interior.

Now, as I was looking around the metro station with a new set of eyes, I noticed that there were immediately available women everywhere.  They stood in doorways, on the stairs, walking around cat calling the men and making obnoxious noises to get the attention of potential plumbers.  Being approached by an old Grandmother I didn’t quite understand what she was saying, but I didn’t need to know nor need to translate what she was saying…it was obvious.  Serving more men than some small town McDonalds, she wanted McLovin at the value menu price. 

Sao Paulo…home of George Jetson

October 19, 2011:  Making it to the top of the Edificio Itialia on the 44^th floor – it was one of the most amazing surreal sights – reminding me of the cartoon The Jetsons when I was a child.  The buildings would continue as if was a sea of cement going beyond the horizon.  I can see why Sao Paulo falls into the top 10 biggest cities in the world, depending on what website you look at.  With about 20,900,000 people you need a lot of concrete to accommodate its people.

While waiting for the concert at a theater, I noticed some street cleaners with the brooms and buckets starring at something.  It made me curious so I to needed to walk over to see what was behind the umbrella.  I should have known.  It was a girl crouched on the ground exposing the tiny triangle from her thong.  Those street sweepers cleaned the same spot for quite some time.  By the time she left that spot was probably the cleanest spot in the city after all three of them walk by her while performing, the “sweeping” trick.