What Does 2009 Have In Store For You?

I woke up at 5:00 a.m. this morning to the tune of ESPN's Sportscenter. It was not my intent to fall asleep with the light and tv on, but we all fall short of the glory on one or two ocassions...

This morning I penned the last entry in my fuschia, flower journal while watching the breaking news from the Dallas Cowboys fallout.

As an FYI, I have been writing in this journal since December 6, 2006, and I had only half of a page to recant my thoughts for December 30th. How interesting that I completed this private detailing of the last two years of my journey two days short of the 2009 year?!?

For a little fun, I reread the first entry, scimmed some entries in the middle and laughed at how much has happened. I quickly came to the realization that a new journal was a signal (literally and figuratively) that I am going to begin a new chapter of my glamorous soccer life.

However, I was slightly annoyed that I couldn't include the 31st in this book. Why should the events of the 30th and 31st get grouped with the new adventures of 2009? I didn't question the reasoning for long because I laid down my pen and went back to sleep.

A few hours later, I arrived at my training facility. I spoke briefly to the building custodian before placing a call to one of the trainers to determine if training had been cancelled. Much to my surprise, there was a miscommunication and training would be taking place at Apollo Creed Alternate Ending's House

*Apollo Creed Alternate Ending is the head trainer. I gave him this nickname for his zealous workout regimen and his classification as an athletic builder and not athletic trainer...*

Anywho, I knew what this training would entail-the woods or should I call it the animaless jungle. This place behind his house is a mini-wilderness complete with running paths (not smooth or clear), tires, a creek and slippery hills-all of which are incorporated into the workout. I have only had one jungle workout, and the story of that workout is an entry by itself....

I arrived, and the usual group of athletes were ready to go. We laced up our cleats, and followed Apollo CAE as he ran to the trees. At some point during the workout, Apollo CAE announced, "This is the year to produce. I am going to be all over you this year!"

His detailed explanation of his expectation (much of which will not be typed here) for the attendees (and me specifically) could be heard as Apollo CAE ran the hills, as I ran the hills and as we all suffered under the pain of the workout. With Apollo's harsh warnings and countless numbers of different hill runs completed, the group ran up the embankments, jumped downed tree branches, tapped through tires to the entryway to the promiseland-the end of the trail.

Today, I received an introduction to my new year. Come on in 2009. I am ready.

Left Behind

Have you ever loved something or someone so much that you had to run out and leave? I have.

These experiences almost always center around food. For the record, I have a love affair with certain food groups. It is an off and on sort of thing because I am pretty disciplined when it comes to my diet.

However, I go home for the holidays and the fried chicken, cakes and pies look so seductive. My aunt offers me some delectable German chocolate cake. My aunt's sister makes these out-tha-box pound, red velvet and italian cream cakes. Who can pass that up? Then, my mama tries to send me home with a whole pumpkin pie and a box of ginger ales!

Each moment I savor a good seasoned thigh or mouthful of dessert, I spend 5 minutes reflecting on how many abs I need to do or how much I can run to temper the sluggishness of my next workout with my trainers...

By the time Friday came, I was frantically trying to pack up my car and get thee out of my hometown lest I be accosted by another restaurant invitation or piece of dessert.

About 5 miles into my getaway, I realized that I had left the remaining pieces of my italian cream and pound cakes behind. I was distraught, but I refused to turn around. My determination to get out, with just a whole pie and the ginger ales, was just too strong. Sometimes you have to cut your losses. For me, the cake had to get left behind...

P.S. Cake Update: "Your loss was our gain. Your grandmother and I ate the cake," said my mama.

Unicyclists Unite!

What is something that people would be surprised to know about you? I was in the midst of conversation with a guy yesterday. He was giving me an overview of his top gifts of Christmas past.

As he ran down the list, one gift in particular stood out like a sore thumb. It was a unicycle. I must admit, as he ran through all the details of how he was introduced to this mode of transportation and the finer points of unicycling, I was still stuck on the fact this guy was a unicyclist.

I do tend to surround myself with a colorful cast. Therefore, I shouldn't be surprised at this little known fact about this guy. I pondered how many people, outside of the kids on his block in the BK, knew they worked alongside a passionate unicyclist....

Today-I want to salute and unite all unicyclists. If you are not utilizing this talent in some form of the traveling entertainment business, please don't keep this skill hidden from the rest of us. Bring that one-wheeled apparatus out and show the world a few tricks!

Do You Read What They Write?

One day a reporter may ask me, "Do you read the articles that they write about you?" I will have to admit that I do--or did--because I just finished reading the cover story for this week's Creative Loafing Charlotte article about my journey into a life filled with workout clothes, trainers (some pretty hot) and soccer balls..In case you want to check it out. Here is the link. Enjoy!

http://charlotte.creativeloafing.com/gyrobase/south_by_south_america/Content?oid=487805

MY BIRTHDAY WAS ALL CUPCAKES!!!

My birthday was so sweet and included a cupcake taste test. We pit Henri's bakery against A Piece of Cake bakery. The cupcakes were judged on a number of criteria (size, aroma, design and taste). It was a hard fought battle, but I am proud to announce that Qiana's 2008 Birthday Contest Winner is A Piece of Cake.

Just the picture of a cupcake makes my mouth water and ignites an urging to run up Roswell road before closing time to snag one more cupcake...Alas, I ask everyone to join me in giving kudos to our winner!

WE'VE BEEN SET UP!!

Although I can't go into the details, I participated in, what was supposed to be a professional and amicable business meeting on yesterday. This meeting took place in my residence. For a brief time, the meeting participants were dispersed in different areas of my condo and a nearby area. All of a sudden, I hear someone repeatedly scream, "We've been set-up! We have been set-up!"

At this point, do the ATF, FBI or CIA knock down the doors, remaining walls and drop in from the ceiling? Fortunately, the answer is No. However, this announcement SOUNDED like a narcotics deal gone wrong...

It was truly a scene to behold--almost incredulous if you will...this outburst definitely deserves a blog post and a carefully chosen image..Enjoy!

Facebook: No Stone is Left Unturned

Good Afternoon ladies, gents, rappers, athletes and beyond-

I recently joined a slew of social networks. I do want to connect with the world. However, I have come to a shocking conclusion. There are so many ways for people to find you if you have a public page.

For example, the long lost high school classmate can happen upon you because you are on your bff's page; or, after feeling pressured into accepting an 6 degree associate's friend request, they now know all of your profile musings and throwback comments from friends recollecting a time when you decided to Get Low at the party....or, one can begin to learn how "multi-faceted some 6 degree associates' interests are--a little uncomfortable and personal if I should say so myself...

Nonetheless-this is what I have signed up for--questions about my personal business from people who otherwise couldn't corner me in a room to get it...And my fellow Facebook fans, you have signed up for it too--unless you know some secret way to keep those newsfeeds private on a public profile (and if this is the case--get at me)

Perfect Timing!

Everyday I have a plan of action that is accompanied by a to do list. My goal is to stick to the list and accomplish the tasks so that I can start it all over again on the next day.

Is it common for me to wake up and begin knocking out the items on the list? I would have to say about 65% of the time the answer is Yes. However, the remaining 35% of the time I am dealing with the unexpectancies of life. For a long time, it would annoy me to have schedule changes. Fortunately, I got smart and realized that the additions and revisions to my daily routine are not the enemy.

On yesterday, I had a plan of action that had a component which did not take into account the possibility of torrential rain and a tornado advisory. The item was left unchecked, but it was quickly replaced with a really important and (of course unplanned) errand.

Now, this errand was a favor to someone who is ultra near and dear to my heart. This person had been trying to obtain a very important set of items for most of the 2008 year, and most people would've concluded that it was a deadend situation.

Have you ever experienced a situation that you thought would be resolved, but took its sweet time to come to its conclusion? Well, I definitely can rattle off a few personal scenarios.

The long awaited pick-up reminded me that these schedule hiccups are merely perfect timing mechanisms. I can't even imagine what my trip to Brazil would have been like if I had gone for only two weeks in 2006 as opposed to 5 months in 2008. Believe me it was a long wait, but during that two year period, I had the opportunity to develop tremendously athletically and personally.

So now we find the Arena League in a serious operation reflection and people stressed about the lack of stability in their way of life. We can choose to spend the days, months and (possibly) years all wound up for naught.

Keep being persistent. Keep preparing yourself. Keep getting ahead of the curve. One day you will see that the seeming "pause" was only perfecting time operating to put ahead on your path to a greater experience than you imagined!

Clearing Boxes

I decided to take last week off from training to give myself some much needed rest. When I returned from Rio, I did not really take any time off so I was overdue for a break.

Although sleeping later was a nice treat, I have to admit that I had an undercurrent of anxiety over my return from the Thanksgiving break. My physical trainer(s) always provide me with challenging workouts, and I never know what the workouts will consist of from day to day.

When I walked in the door on Tuesday, the plyometric boxes, ladder and hurdles were already arranged. I warmed up for a few minutes on the bike, and then we got started. Once my training session began, it was fast. We moved quickly between the two rooms and I started to feel like I had too much fun over the holiday week.

As a result, my trainer began heckling me with "What did you eat Qiana? Too much turkey! Too much Blue Bell ice cream! Too much cake!" I replied, "Pumpkin pie" after restarting a botched drill on the ladder.

We moved back to the other room so that I could do my next set of box jumps. The box jumps are my least favorite. I think this is due to the fact that these boxes are wooden and I have seen many a strong athlete and trainer misjudge the height or timing of their jumps and take an L (i.e. Loss).

Now since my time at the gym, I have only scraped the front of my leg on the tallest box. However, we were not jumping the tallest box, but the other three, so I was pretty confident that once I moved past the taller box I could breeze through the other two. The drill was a continual jumping from the box to the ground up to the next box and squatting to pick up a bowl and the end, turning around to jump the boxes back to the other end to squat and place the bowl on the floor.

I had about 6 to 8 bowls to jump the boxes to retrieve and return to the other end so I had about 36-48 jumps to do for each set. Keep in mind that I had to jump the boxes facing forward, jumping sideways from the left and jumping sideways from the right. I had lots of box jumps on my agenda to say the least.

My legs were feeling heavy, and I was in the midst of my 2 second set of box jumps. Facing to the left, I jumped on the tallest box and leapt off to the ground so that I could jump the second box. Well, my mind was on auto-pilot and my legs were hanging low so when I tried to clear the box, it didn't go as planned to say the least. The foot clip, the lower body box collision and my tumble to the floor were all a blur.

I sat for about 5 seconds in bewilderment. The box was unmoved, but I had to experience a different fate. Well, I got back up and restarted the jump series with a new concentration to say the least.

Unfortunately, I have been added as the latest victim in the Box Clearing series....

Giving Thanks For My Grandmama

I am not exactly sure how you gave thanks, but I definitely can give you an inside peek to my Turkey Day offering. It all began a few hours before the big day when I was informed that the local family church would be having an early morning Thanksgiving Day service.

Since this was not something I knew about, I showed up the following morning in a pair of jeans, Nikes and a t-shirt with a black ski vest. I think many people didn't get the Thanksgiving service memo because there were about 15 people sprinkled about the church pews.

The service was going right along as planned when an unexpected announcement came. The assistant pastor announced that the youth choir would sing a selection. My sister, a member of the youth choir, looked quite shocked because there were only two members of the choir present. However, this didn't derail the efforts for a selection. As my sister began making her way to the front, an undercurrent of whispers ensued. Before I knew it, my grandma turned around and said, "Qiana, go on up there and sing."

Now, I am the first to tell you (among others) that I have not been granted the gift of song. Moreover, I am not a member of the youth choir, and I didn't know the song selection.

However, who says no to their grandmama? So you know what happened. I went up to the front, received a copy of the song from my mama who was on the church keyboard and began my best in tune rendition of "God Can?." I will just say that at least half of the congregants laughed (including myself) and my grandma was beaming from ear to ear.

Who could not like that? Giving thanks for my grandmama by singing was not on my agenda this year, but I will admit the big hug and good job that she gave me was well worth it.

Be An Entertainer: It May Just Save Your Life

In the midst of feverishly working, I happened to see quite a bit of Britney Spears' new documentary. I enjoyed it because it gave me the opportunity to hear some new songs, one of which is called "Circus."

The first line of the song happened to catch my attention because it goes something like,"there are two types of people in the world-those who entertain and ones that observe." I believe that there is a lot of truth to this first line, and then I realized that, in fact entertainers are considered to be by default of celebrity, public recognition etc. to be leaders.

There is a whole area of media dedicated to keeping up with what these individuals are doing, eating, wearing and buying. As a result, entertainers have the power to influence the rest of the world (i.e. observers).

Sometimes there is a misconception about entertainers (i.e. celebrities). Some people think that they are different than you and I. However, the difference between their elevated status and ours may simply reside in their continuous action to do a little extra, take a stand on an issue or be persistent.

These are three actions that each of us is capable of, and I am soliciting you for your call to action. Today is World Aids Day, and I want you to be an entertainer. Take the extra effort to get tested, take a stand to always practice safe sex and persist in letting people know the importance of doing their part. It may just save your life!

When Are You Going to Get Married?

I was juggling my ball around 2:20 p.m. when a young girl, age 7 to be exact, decided that she wanted to learn how to pass the ball with me. Ms. Melissa (as her mother calls her) informed me that she is home schooled, loves the American Girl web site and has a new dog named Mia Romaria Miles.

As we kept trying new and creative ways to twirl around the ball before making a pass to one another, she asks, "When are you going to get married?" I paused for a minute, and I told her that I just didn't know but I would add it to my list of things to do....

This marriage business must be pretty serious if 7yr olds have joined in the ranks. Although I can think of many fun reasons to not take that long walk down the aisle today, I am going to refrain and just shout out all the Single Ladies with this image!

Bom Dia Futebol!

I Won!!!

Yesterday, all signs were looking a little bleak for my gas efficient car in my lovely community. Literally every gas station was out, and the one or two that still had some gas, had lines down the street.

I didn't bother to join the crowd because I thought I had enough to hold me...until I realized that my gas was leaving my tank faster than ever. I had to come up with a plan that didn't include wasting the remainder of my gas going from station to station. So, I decided that I would call gas stations before I left to go to my workout this morning.

I thought this was pretty clever, and it paid off! No lines. Enough gas. I am saved! However, I was at the pump by 6:10 a.m.

Let's hope we get some gas in here soon because I do not want to have to get up any earlier than my 7:00 a.m. morning workouts allow...

Everyday I Learn Something New

I made a spur-of-the-moment trip to see my mama and sister in South Carolina. It was so unplanned that I didn't think of the idea to pay them a visit until the midway point of the conversation.

About fifteen minutes before I completed my winding path through the countryside, I noticed a road sign that read "Highway Closed Ahead." Well, this was the only way that I knew how to get to my town so I kept driving. Much to my surprise, and believe me I was surprised, there were huge tractors, trucks and other miscellaneous people and equipment destroying the bridge.

I had a slight moment of panic. Should I go back home?

Now, this was not an option because with the price of gas, and investment of time, I had to out a new route. However, I didn't know one. I managed to happen upon a small business. In less than 3 minutes I was speeding down some side road that brought me to the other side of the bridge.

Lesson #1: Now, I know two ways to get back to the interstate.

After a short day stay with my mama and sister, I needed some gas. Who doesn't need gas these days? My mama directed me to the best gas station in town, and I paid my tariff, tax and fee. I put the nozzle in the tank, and the gas wouldn't come out! I let out a scream of disdain, and then I turned to a man who just pulled up to the gas station.

Can you help me? The gas doesn't want to come out. The man told me to make sure that I don't have the pump too deep in my gas tank. Jackpot!!! In my tenure as a driver, I have not ever committed this act before.

Lesson #2: Make sure you do not place the nozzle too far into your gas tank. Otherwise the flow of gasoline will be hindered substantially.

Prior to leaving my mama, she packed me a lovely care package. It included a rutabaga.

Do you know what a rutabaga is? Don't fret. Most of my friends have not heard of a rutabaga, and until today, I was not entirely sure about the spelling. However, a rutabaga is a turnip. It is a round, reddish turnip with an orange inside. They sell them at some Wal-Mart's for $0.50.

Anyway, my mama gave me a primer on cutting it. You take one large knife and place it on the center of the rutabaga. Then, you take another knife and bang it on the handle of the first knife until it goes all the way through the center of the rutabaga. It is a time honored technique that my grandmama uses because rutabagas are so hard to cut.

I announced to my mama that I think that I can peel one. Will tradition hold up or be replaced by a new, easier peeling technique? I am not sure, but whatever happens, it will be something new that I have learned......

The Days Never Change

Good Afternoon. I must say that it has been quite some time since I have provided you with a dose my world perspective. It seems that I have been living my life on the Autobahn once I returned from Rio. Consequently, my roadshow came to an abrupt halt when I developed some "random" respiratory matter...

I was not pleased to say the least, and it is probably safe to say that my neighbors were not pleased as well. However, what can you do? I have to cough. These throwback walls from the 70's just don't have the necessary insulation, and so my coughing fits had to be heard by all. In exchange, it seems that I hear my neighbor's business as well so I feel that it is a trade (one that may not be as even...but I am not going to complain :))

Anywho, one day while quarantined in my bedroom, I flipped through the channels and stumbled upon that storied soap opera called Days of Our Lives. This soap opera was must see tv in my house for at least 40 years, and I was an addict.

At the height of my addiction, my five year old sister would call me and give me the low down (verbatim) of what happened on the episodes that I missed! We had the Days bug bad...Well, I began to watch, and much to my surprise all of my favorite characters are still on the show, doing the same thing. I have not missed anything! Stefano is trying to capture Marlena. Marlena tried to kill Stefano. Everyone thought Stefano was in a coma, but he was not! Oh the drama continues. I admit they had me for about two episodes, but I can't fall victim because I know what is going to happen. The strange twist is that somehow these writers make you want to keep watching like something different just might happen this time...

Now on a less dramatic note, I have quite a few adventures to catch you up on so stay tuned.

Until then-"like sands in the hour glass so are the days of our lives.."

NFT: The Good Life-Royal Treatment

My new favorite restaurant is Pap Açorda. It is a churrascaria (food buffet where your food is weighed) that also serves an all you can eat pizza buffet. The claim to fame for the pizza buffet is that they have over 150 toppings for their pizzas. (For the record, I do not order the pizza buffet. I did see this outrageously topped pizza that had thick, French fries falling off of it!)

My enchantment with this restaurant is that they have some rotisserie chicken that is more outrageous than that pizza I described. It is dee—lish-ous!! I eat my chicken with salad, rice, beans, spinach, cooked carrots.

It appears that my nickname is Solzinha (single female) or Solzinha Flamengista (Single female Flamengo fan) because I have heard managers and owners refer to me as such. Well, when I, Solzinha, step into the restaurant, the production begins. A waiter takes my bag and escorts me to my usual table in front of the flat screen. If a big game is on, they turn to the channel. When I return to my table, my bread basket, water (without ice) and chair is in place. I am scooted in, and my table is constantly circled. As of late, they have been sending over slices of their dessert pizzas (which are quite rich) and offered me a shot of chocolate (not a fan of the flavored alcohol shots…)

Although I get a mafia boss feel with the owners keeping an eye on me and everything else, I like this place and give it lots of thumbs up. If you are in Leblon, please stop by. The guys may not know all of your preferences because you are not Solzinha Flamengista, but you will be treated quite well!

NFT: The Good Life-Not Everywhere You Want to Be..

Yogoberry seems to be the new “it” place to be. It was featured several times in MTV’s reality show The Hills. Yogoberry is a yogurt shop where you can put all sorts of toppings on your different, fruit flavored yogurt. I have not ever tried Yogoberry’s product offering, but I happened to pass a location while in Ipanema the other day. Here was my chance for a little nostalgic taste of “LA it.”

Unknown to me, the taste wasn’t going to happen on this particular day. Yogoberry in Ipanema does not accept Visa! I didn’t have any cash on me so we were at an impasse, and I haven’t gone back. Visa card members it is not where you want to be, but if you have some cash….you might just taste something worth talking about…

NFT: The Good Life-Back to Kansas

After you run wild with your credit card in Shopping Leblon, you might still have an empty feeling inside. No, it is not the feeling of spending too much money. It is a feeling of “it would be nice to see what my favorite store is like in Rio.”

Don’t worry make-up fiends and Rick Ross Bosses, I have got you covered.

In case you need to gloss up those lips before you hit the beach or the discotech, I have located everyone’s trusty make-up Queen M.A.C.

For the others who want a luxurious rush that gets you noticed in Sandra Rose’s Photo montage of People with their Louie’s, I stumbled upon our favorite luxury provider Louis Vuitton. It is a must see if you are in Ipanema. The staff is divine!

NFT: The Good Life-Can You Deliver?

Sometimes after a long day at work or at the beach, you just want to stay in the house. However, you have groceries to buy, prescriptions to fill and take-out to order. No need to worry. You can pick up your phone and have everything delivered right to your doorstep. Most businesses (grocery stores, restaurants and consumer businesses) have deliverymen that, for a small fee, will delivery everything that you need right to your doorstep. If you are expecting a car or truck to show up, think again. Most of these deliveries are done by bicycle or motorcycle!

NFT: The Good Life-Fashionistas

Ever since I had money in my pocket and a hand full of fashion sense, I have always brought home a souvenir from every city that I have visited. My souvenir is always a nice addition to the wardrobe. If you are like me and you want to pick up a few Brazilian souvenirs to commemorate your trip, ask the bus or taxi driver to point you in the direction of Shopping Leblon. In this multi-level mall, you will find lots of fabulous and unique stores. There is only one misstep. It is the Tommy Hilfiger store (the merchandising choices were shocking).

After you finish procuring enough fashion finds to stuff your luggage bag, head check out the fabulous city view from the food court, check out the hugely popular bookstore or catch your favorite movie. Shopping Leblon has it all!

NFT: The Good Life-Need A Lift?

If you are living as a family unit in Ipanema or Leblon, it is a high probability that you are enrolling your filho or filha (son or daughter) in private school. Since school is only fours hours each day, it may be hard for you to transport them to school in time for class at 1:00 p.m. Don’t worry; many schools have private buses or vans that will scoop your kid(s) up from the nanny at your residence.

You have to admit. This looks a lot classier than that big yellow or short yellow (for some of you readers) buses that you used to ride to school…

NFT: The Good Life-Free Parking!

Owning a car in Rio is an expensive undertaking. Due to the import taxes, cars cost the same as they do in America. However, the pay wage is much lower. Also, the cost of insuring a car is more expensive here as well.

If you find yourself one of the fortunate few and need a place to park when you run into your favorite Ipanema or Leblon location, do you need to pay for parking? The answer is Yes!

You will not find parking meters. There is a man or woman located in the vicinity of your parking location wearing a vest that reads “Estacione.” This is the person that you need to pay. Otherwise, if you make the choice to skirt the law, I can’t tell you the consequences. However, I doubt that they are pretty…

Not For Tourists: The Good Life…

Many Brazilians would agree that the residents of Ipanema and Leblon are living the good life. Currently, I have the good fortune to be temporarily living in Leblon. I will admit that the Leblon/Ipanema area does have its perks. This latest installment of the Not For Tourists blog series is packed with tons of pictures so each highlight is written as an individual entry. Enjoy!

My Feet Are Precious

I know that my feet are precious. However, if my feet could talk, they would probably say otherwise. Sometimes, I subject them to unnecessary and stressful conditions. (As a self-labeled fashionista, there is nothing more exhilarating than to slide my feet into a serious pair of hot stilettos.)

After my ACL reconstruction, I decided to make a compromise with my feet. Only under the following conditions would I tip in a pair of potentially painful shoes:

1. If a circumstance requires calf flexion and quad display. (these situations do exist)
2. If an outfit will be compromised by wearing flats.
3. If I can quickly interchange the “selected shoes” at a moment’s notice with a more agreeable pair.

So my stiletto struts are kept to a minimum. Therefore, it is common to find me all over the place (club, mall, street, etc.) in some extra hot kicks, sandals or flats. So I shouldn’t encounter any problems, right? Well, not exactly because, all of the “sandalistas” out there know, certain sandals will turn on you if you put to many miles on them at a time.

On yesterday, I felt that my feet were long overdue for some TLC. I selected a pair of cute sandals to make the quite lengthy trek to the nail shop and over to my teammate’s boutique for a little “souvenir shopping.” I glanced down at the intricate braiding at the top of my sandal, and had a thought that perhaps it may cause a problem for me. However, I quickly dismissed it because the sandals were too cute and I wanted the world to see them. (This would be their Rio debut.)

To make a long story short, there was some irritation during my journey. This irritation turned to a few blisters which became even more aggravated during my individual training sessions because I shoot, juggle and pass balls without shoes on.

I tried a band-aid but it won’t stick. It does not feel or look pretty.

As of Wednesday, May 28, 2008, I promise to treat my feet properly in word and action. From this day forward, I am taking all precautions regarding my feet. This includes using the correct ball (beach soccer) when I am juggling barefoot in my spare time (which was wreaking havoc of a different kind (but that is content for a separate entry) and adhering to the limitations of the shoes that I wear.

Fighting Words

One day during the 2007 Women’s World Cup, I was watching a game between China and another team. The commentator was detailing a story about one of its key players who was on suspension by FIFA for attacking a referee. I remember thinking what could make someone get crunk enough to fight an official?

Well, I gained a little more insight on this matter. We had a game today, and the match referee was serious business. (For example, one of our players received a yellow card for moving the ball ahead of the indicated spot to take a free kick.) Now, I was surprised at the call, but she was well within her right to do so. It was apparent that she strictly interpreted the laws of the game.

The game progressed with the referee stopping the game, from time to time, for a series of infractions. On one particular call against a player on the opposing team, the player was not pleased with the fact that she was called for a foul in the penalty box. A word exchange ensued between the player and the referee. Before we knew it, the player lunged at the referee to try and fight her. Fortunately, teammates restrained the player in time (she was quickly ejected from the game). It was quite a spectacle.

I am thinking that the fight triggers could be one or a combination of the following: the whistle, the word falta (foul) or the yellow card.

I really don’t understand what a player hopes to gain from fighting a referee. Anyone who can give me an answer, feel free to comment!

Your Bumper, Your Fault

It was a long day at training yesterday. Our session ran long, and I had to wait to receive my uniform for the next day’s game so I was trying to catch the first bus heading to Leblon. Just as I crossed the street to head to the bus stop, I noticed a Leblon bus approaching. I quickly hopped on, checked the time and hoped that I would at least make it to my fallback dinner restaurant in time to catch the first half of my favorite novella Duas Caras (Two Faces).

Since it was after 8:00 p.m, the bus crowd was quickly thinning out. The bus was moving pretty quickly and I was glad. The last thing that I wanted was to be making the quick (yet dark) walk to my place of residence. About half way through the route, I heard the bus driver yelling as we crossed through an intersection. It was followed by a loud noise, a slight jolt and then we stopped. I thought to myself, “I hope we didn’t hit anything because I don’t want to draw out my trip to Leblon any longer.

Unfortunately, the bus hit the back of a new pick up truck. The bus driver was angry because according to him the driver of the truck caused an unnecessary accident. Of course, the driver thought otherwise and had a demolished back bumper to show for it.

The toll lady told me and the other passenger that we would have to catch another bus. We both were heading to Leblon so we patiently waited for another bus and watched as the two men argue their stances on the accident to one another. Eventually, the driver of the pickup realized that he would have a series of financial repercussions because he was at fault in the accident, and he decided that the police did not need to be called.

The cars stopped honking their horns and everyone went back to their respective places on the same bus so we could continue our journey to Leblon. For precautionary purposes, the lady took my contact information in case I suffered any medical problems from the accident.

Fortunate for me, the situation was cut and dry. Your bumper, Your fault!

Meet the Son of the Sun

Every morning that I have a training session with Paulinho, I try to arrive as early as possible. Usually there is a scrimmage taking place between the pupils of his soccer school. These boys, and on occasion one or two girls, look to be between the ages of six and eight years old.

Unlike many of the games that I have watched in the U.S., these kids display technical flair and a tactical understanding of how and where to pass and play the ball. It is never a dull moment. Sometimes, Paulinho allows some younger players to participate. It is quite evident that these boys are around four or five years old. However, there is one kid that stood out.

This little boy had a really cool haircut (It is the Mohawk that you see a lot of the soccer players and musicians wearing right now.), and he was directing his teammates on the plays. I could not help but laugh because this kid knew what he was talking about, and he was placing the ball perfectly.

A few training sessions later, I was in the middle of a shooting drill with Paulinho, and I could not help but hear a loud echo of Paulinho’s comments. There was a yell of “Boa (Good)!” and “Isso (this)!” when I would place the balls perfectly in the corners. When my balls would graze the bar or slightly fly past the goal, I would hear “Aww!”

I looked up, and sitting Indian style on the top deck of the lifeguard platform, was the little Mohawk boy. I started laughing, and he just smiled. Paulinho’s assistant, who is a goalie for Paulinho’s women’s beach soccer team, informed me that the mini-coach was in fact her son, Kuaun.

Kuaun, whose name translates to filho do sol (Son of the Sun), is five years old. He is hands down one of the cutest and funniest little boys in the world. To make it even better, it appears that he has a lot of soccer experience under his belt already. The world should get ready for the Son of the Sun.

Until then, Kuaun is content diving to block shots, crossing balls to his teammates, yelling encouragements to me during my training and riding in the backseat on his mom’s bike down the beach boardwalk. The Son of the Sun has a busy schedule, but he was kind enough to pose for a few shots for the camera. Enjoy!

Where Has the Time Gone?

Your guess is as good as mine. I looked up the other day and realized that I have been so busy that I have not posted an entry in three weeks! Sinto muito (I´m sorry). I have been hard at work behind the scenes making sure that you know what is going on with me in Brazil. I am going to post another Not For Tourist series of entries as well as many others.

For those of you that registered to be notified when I post new entries, I am apologizing in advance because I am going to try and load over 12 entries in the next couple of days....It should be enough reading to keep you entertained for at least the next week (if you pace yourself)!

Nice To See You Today!

I received a text message at 7:50 a.m. notifying me that our training time would be an hour earlier. The professional men´s team, Sport Club do Recife, would be using our training location to prepare for their championship match against Botafogo on Saturday.

Now, I had just watched these guys play on television a few days ago. I was pretty intrigued that I might get an upclose opportunity to watch these guys practice.

Fast forward to 3:55 p.m. I am playing defense in our scrimmage, and there is a line of guys leaning on the wall surrounding the field. Who are these guys? They are the jogadors for Sport Club do Recife!!

We quickly wrap up our scrimmage, and watch the guys take the field. There are camera truck(s), reporters and photographers. I get the opportunity to watch them warm-up, stretch and run through passing and possession drills.

I want to send out a good game wish to each and every player for Sport Club do Recife. It was nice to see you today!

My First Time: May 8, 2008

Date: May 8, 2008

Time: around 10:30 a.m.

Location: Posto 11, Leblon Beach

I wonder how many people remember their first time. If you ask Puffy or Serena or Ronaldinho, would they be able to give you an answer?

I am not sure so, to give myself an off-site memory backup, I am giving myself an electronic reminder just in case this day happens to get buried underneath other, important first times.

I was in the middle of my training session with Paulinho. A gentleman on a bike yelled out to Paulinho, as so many people like to do. (Paulinho is a popular guy.) I noticed the guy seemed pretty average. However, he had an extra fabulous camera hanging around his neck. I did think it was slightly strange.

The guy yelled to Paulinho that he need stopped our drill too soon. Paulinho turns to me and says that the guy is a paparazzo. The photographer walks over to Paulinho and begins talking to him.

Eventually, the photographer, speaks to me and shows me a picture that he snapped of me during my workout. The guy hangs around for a few more drills, snaps some more shots and waves good-bye.

Well, it is official. I have had my first encounter with a paparazzo. He has taken my picture and he knows where to find me (at 10:30 a.m.). I hope one day he gets some good money for those images...

The $2.00 Lunch

Did you spend go over budget on drinks at the club? Has the bank put a freeze on your card because you made too many purchases while on vacation? Are you that Gen X or Y, world traveler that is living on shoestring?

If you remotely identify with any of these scenarios and find yourself in the great city of Rio de Janeiro, I have a lunch deal for you.

Utensils: stove, knife, spoon, fork, three pots and dining dish

Ingredients:
onion 0.17R ($0.10)
carrot 0.16R ($0.09)
salt 0.05R ($0.03)
tomato sauce 1.08R ($0.64)
pasta 1.35R ($0.79)
French roll 0.50R ($0.29)

-Chop ½ of the small onion
-Chop ½ of the carrot
-Pour ½ of the tomato sauce into the pot. Add a little salt and the onion.
-Cook the pasta in the second pot.
-Cook the carrots in the third pot.
-Pour the water off of the cooked pasta and carrots.
-Mix the carrots and pasta with the tomato sauce

Lunch is served (with a fabulous piece of French bread)!

My Secret Weapon: The Extra Mile

I like to ask questions. Anybody that knows me should have observed this by now. My questions are not random. They always have a point.

On one particular day, I was at my gym in Atlanta, and I was asking a fellow athlete a series of questions. This guy has played at the highest level in his sport, and alongside some great players. So I asked him to tell me his opinion of what makes an athlete a great athlete. He pretty much summed up a great athlete as a person that gets to the weight room early to get in extra reps and stays late to work on different aspects of their game. This person goes the extra mile.

I have always been a fan of the extra mile. As a result, I have been keeping an eye out for someone to direct my extra mile efforts. Yes, I run the beach. Yes, I juggle the ball. However, when you have someone pushing you, correcting small details and getting you lots of reps, it really elevates your game so that you can make your best contribution to the team.

Therefore, it is with great pleasure that I introduce you to Paulinho Pereira. Paulinho is an ex-player for Vasco da Gama. Vasco da Gama is one of the four major soccer clubs in Rio de Janeiro.
We had our first session this morning, and it was absolutely excellent. Our training session took place at the beach. Working out in the sand has several advantages.

1. It is harder to run in sand. Therefore, when you get back on grass you are must faster.
2. Working out in sand helps to keep your ankles strong.
3. You are forced to correct your touch on the ball. Since you are barefoot, a wrong touch will hurt your foot.

Today, we did a series of dribbling and shooting drills. All of the drills involved cones and incorporated a number of direction changes (backpedaling, shuffling and diagonal runs). It was a quick, hard workout. I am definitely looking forward to our session in the morning.

Missed That Memo

For the last couple of weeks, the weather has been acting pretty strange. We have had lots of rain. It starts getting dark around 6:00 p.m., and I have had to pull out my jacket a time or two. Moreover when I was walking down the street yesterday, I saw a little girl wearing velvet!

I came home and asked my host to confirm my suspicions. Is summer over? He laughed and said it was over quite some time ago. We are in fall. This is news to my ears, and it makes me a little sad. Although I have officially been in Rio for three months, I do not feel as if I had my full summer in Rio experience!

Well, this calls for some action. From this day forth:
1. I will have to make sure to be cognizant of the weather forecast and take full advantage of every sunny day.
2. I vow to have my bikini on hand so that I can jump into the ocean at a moment’s notice.
3. I will comb the sales racks for summer clothes. I may make it to the U.S. just in time to have another summer!!! (I am smiling at the thought of feeling the humidity of Atlanta, and seeing the South Beach strip in Miami.)

Not For Tourists: 2nd Installment

I know it has been a week, but this entry is worth the wait! This is the second installment for my Not For Tourists journal. This time I am focusing on a neighborhood that has become near and dear to my heart-Castelo. Enjoy!

Castelo, Rochina, Pauvuna-I am there.

After reading my Good Times entry, you have made the decision that you must spend a few days in Castelo, Rochina or some other favella that is near and dear to your heart. Your best bet is to have an established relationship with someone who already lives there. Trust me.

Are You Up for the Challenge?

This is an important question that you may want to ask yourself. During my short stint, I quickly came to the realization that favella life has physical requirements. Coordination, Agility, Balance were all tested during my stay.

· On numerous occasions, I had to hop over holes in the alleyways. Most of these alleys are hard dirt and intermittently covered with small wooden boards so the ground is not even and treacherous. At night (due to little or no lighting), if you don’t have good vision and footing, you may just take a tumble.
· Most of the favellas are built into the sides of the mountains. So you will be doing a lot of walking uphill. If the neighborhood that you are in is flat, you will still have to climb steep, cement staircases. Sometimes these staircases do not have railings. One false move and…I don’t want to paint that picture for you.
· It is common to come across large standing pools of water or trenches of water on your path. As we headed to training one day, we approached the main entryway of the house to see a large trench filled with water. The water pipes were being repaired or something. I had to carefully walk the trapeze to the end of the corner.
· There is usually a small wall dividing the main doorway to each residence. When we returned home from the club, there must have been some miscommunication on leaving the key for us to get in. Consequently, my hostess had to kick off her flip flops and quietly climb over the wall (about 6ft) to gently unlock the front gate to let us in.

Please Don’t Stop the Music!!

Rihanna’s song sums it up. You will hear music, and it will be loud. There are no noise ordinances here.

I Like Privacy

I like privacy as well. However, you are going to have to compromise. Depending on the way your residence is structured, you may have many places in your living quarters that are open to the entire world. For example, every morning people had the ability to watch me walk to and from the bathroom to handle all of my personal business. Due to the size and set-up of the bathroom, I was not able to get dressed there so…my shoulders and legs were free for the world to see! (I guess, when I am more famous, paparazzi will know where to get good pictures when I am partying in Castelo…) I, on the other hand, had the ability to see people cooking dinner, watching television and taking a bath.

I am not talking about open windows. Some residences lacked coverings for entry ways or window areas. It felt a little weird to be able to see all of these things, but the occupants seemed totally immune to it.

Meet the Locals

I would like to point you to a novella that I watch here every evening called Duas Carras (Two Girls). It is a soap opera that lots and lots of men, women, boys, girls, dogs, cats & birds watch Monday-Saturday at 9:00 p.m. The setting for this drama is a favella. Now, some of the details of this novella are a little over-the-top. However, the actors and actresses are a good reflection of the local population.

Ladies, there are a lot of guys who took the challenge to be physically fit to live in the favella. (Likewise gentlemen, there are ladies who are doing the same as well.) I was extremely pleased with the guys that crossed my path. They were running around carrying surfboards, riding motorcycles and waiting at the bus stop waving to me as I passed them by on the bus. It was quite entertaining.

I am sorry guys. As far as what the ladies were doing, I am not exactly sure. I will tell you that they were dancing hard in the club if that is any indication.

Pedestrians Take Heed

People commonly complain that driving in Latin America lacks a certain adherence to laws. My experience has found this to be quite true. Therefore, if someone is driving anything (bike, bus, car or motorcycle), please take heed and move as far away as possible. Wild driving, no sidewalks and dirt roads can spell disaster. For example, an oncoming car ran over a small portion of my foot while I was in Castelo. I think the driver ran over at least one other girl’s foot as well because she started yelling. Fortunately, it was only a small part of the tire and my foot was fine.

Wardrobe Check

I don’t have any tips on what you can do to blend in. I am starting to believe that no matter where you go people will be able to sniff a stranger out.

For example, when I bring my friends to Seneca, South Carolina they wonder why people stare. I tell them it is because people can tell they are not from Seneca. (It is actually reaching a point where I get a few stares sometimes.)

Now imagine trying to play chameleon in a Brazilian favella. It doesn’t matter if you speak the language or look the part. I have been working on the “blend-in” for the last 3 months…

Therefore, I am going to give you a couple of tips on what you can do to call less attention to yourself.

1. Leave all Jordans, Airforce 1s and rare sneakers at home. I took a prized pair of my kicks but they never saw one inch of Castelo. I realized that I had enough stares when I was staying in Copacabana. Plus, the grounds are too unpredictable to keep your kicks clean and it will send off an alarm that you are an estrageiro (foreigner) with cash. (In case you don’t know, tennis shoes are expensive here. They are selling non name brand sneakers for around $60 USD. Nike Shox start at $150 USD.)
2. Everyone wears the flat flip flops. However, most of the girls have at least one pair of the platform flip flops. They will save your feet when you have to step in puddles of water (inevitable when it rains).
3. Always good to take a look at the wardrobe of your host or hostess. This is an excellent indicator of the types of clothes that are commonly worn.

Follow Your Guide When…

1. You hear gunshots. If your friend is calm, follow their lead. Sometimes locals like to shoot in the air to start a party or to celebrate when the home team wins a match.
2. You see a fight. They are still using fists in Castelo. I am not sure what they are doing in other places. Therefore, if your friend stays to watch the bout, enjoy the entertainment also.
3. You see your friend immediately and/or random leaves a location. Don’t ask any questions. Just move. Usually it means that they are trying to move away from a potentially dangerous situation.

2,000 Words

There is a common proverb that says "a picture is worth 1,000 words." This week has been a little hectic so I am going to give you a 2,000 words to hold you over until my next post--These are images before and after our physical training at Barra Tijuca Beach.

Good Times!

On Thursday, I received an email that I need to move immediately out of my Copacabana location. On Friday, my bags were packed and I was ready to leave. On Saturday, I was supposed to move, but it didn’t quite come together. On Sunday, it was the last moment before I-don’t-know-what but I-didn’t-want-to-stay-to-find-out.

Since my new hostess was not ready for my arrival, I was instructed to go to Flamengo Beach to stay with a temporary host. Once I arrived (as I previously mentioned in an earlier entry), I was told that another teammate wanted me to come to her home for the 3-day holiday.

Why not go? For the entire week, a lot of my teammates had been asking if I would go out with them to Castelo. I didn’t know what Castelo was but I was waiting for the right opportunity to see as much of the local scene that was convenient to my training schedule. I told my “housing coordinator” that it was fine so he gave me directions. He ended our conversation by saying, “I was just over there the other night Qiana, and I felt safe…” This phrase did not register with me until I was about to arrive at my destination. Am I going to be staying in a favella?

The bus stopped and I hopped out in front of the nightclub Castelo Das Pedras. I called Teka (my teammate) and she walked from her house with our other teammate, Larissa, to come meet me.

Welcome to Castelo. I cannot tell you how many people live there or how much area is contained in the neighborhood. I think this place met all of the criteria for being classified as a favella. I immediately saw this “vacation” as an opportunity to understand how a majority of my teammates live, and observe if some of the things that I had seen (in movies and in the Brazilian soap operas) were true.

The trek to Teka’s home led us through the middle of an open market that was being deconstructed. There were lots of people, trash and confusion. However, everyone was going about their business at a fairly calm pace.

As Teka and Larissa maneuvered me through the crowds, we picked up Teka’s mama somewhere along the way. I spoke to three ladies (who I believed to be her friends). We turned into an alley, hung a left, went up about 15 tall concrete steps, stepped over a small wire partition and then up another 10 steps to the top landing. This area was partially covered (the clothes lines were in one area, a bathroom and then the doorway to Teka’s bedroom. To this day, I still don’t understand if their family lives in the entire concrete building or if they have certain rooms because everything is divided by the open stairway.

I will say that my understanding of life in Castelo (because I can’t speak for any other neighborhoods like this) seems to be a lot like that show, Good Times. Families are working hard trying to send kids to school and keep them out of trouble. You can get everything that you need and want in the favella. You never have to leave, and many times this is the case for a majority of the residents. Are girls walking around looking cute in their best outfits? Yes. Are guys walking around without shirts on looking like they just stepped out of a gym? Yes. Are people walking around having a great time? Yes. Now don’t get me wrong. There are some seriously down and out people walking around, but for the most part it reminds me of a larger, more developed U.S. housing project development.

My stay in Castelo was all Good Times and has made my list of top Rio highlights because of the following:

1. Teka has the softest bed in Rio.
2. Teka’s air conditioning unit knows how to keep a room cold.
3. Teka’s family is so nice, and Teka’s dad gave me a tour of his videography shop.
4. Teka’s mama knows how to cook. Her chicken, rice and beans are serious business.
5. Teka’s neighbor, Alex, came over every day to entertain me with conversations about American music, life in Castelo, etc.
6. Teka introduced me to Pao doce. It is some of the best bread I have ever tasted.
7 Teka took me to Castelo das Pedras. A club that rains fire sparks and mist on hundreds of dancing people at about 4:00 a.m.
8 At 5:30 a.m. the party continues outside of the club, and the police do not stop it.
9. At 5:42 a.m., there are still guys on the corner doing their best body rolling to Baile Funk music. It was good, but it gave me a lot of laughs.
10. After going to bed at 6:00 a.m., 5 or 6 teammates run into Teka’s room at noon to turn the Baile Funk music on high to restart the party. (It seems that they not have noise/music restrictions in Castelo).

A visit this sweet deserves a picture. Look at a piece of Pao Doce that I had a chance to eat!

I Just Want to Watch the Game

Yesterday evening, the coach reminded me that Brazil would be playing an Olympic qualifying match against Ghana this morning. My intent was to be front and center to watch this game uninterrupted from start to finish. Since the game was at 8:30 a.m., I figured that I could watch it at my usual breakfast spot, Zona Sul. They have a nice big, flat screen television. Although it was not guaranteed that the channel would be set to the game, I had a good feeling I could politely request a channel change.

I approached a guy who always works in the café area to inquire about watching the game. He happily agreed to change the channel. (Honestly, who would decline to showcase their country’s team engaging in competition at 8:30 a.m. on a Saturday?) Once we found the station, I decided to return the favor by loading up my plate with enough food to eat intermittently throughout the course of the game.

There were only a few customers sitting in the café area having breakfast when the game began. I did notice that there was a lady sitting at the next table. She was elderly, had on a cardboard, Indian headdress and was drinking a beer. Now, I thought to myself that this was not the time for me to pass judgment. I had a game to watch.

As soon as I finished my thought, the lady gets up from the table and comes over to me.

Lady: Esta chuvendo. (It’s raining)
Qiana: Um hum (with a smile) (the game has just started-so my eyes alternating between the lady and the screen)
L: Chuvendo…Chuvendo.(she switches to English)...Raining…Raining…
Q: Sim, Sim (Yes, Yes)
L: Where are you from?
Q: Estados Unidos (United States)
L: Sweden?!
Q: United States
L: Oh, you should keep your bag close to you. (My bag is directly in front of me on top of the table.)
L: It is such a beautiful bag. (She picks up my bag, rubs it and places in on her shoulder. (Please note that I am prepared to run this lady down if she tries to turn with my bag.))
L: You have to be careful because people will take it.
L: Today is the day of the Indian. I will get you a headpiece. (She leans over to my ear and whispers) I need to get nine more because I have 10 grandchildren and I want to give each of them one.

I received two minutes of peace before she returned.

L: Here. You can take this to America as a souvenir.
L: Do you like this sport? (Pointing to the television)
Q: Yes
L: You have nice legs. When I was your age, I had legs just like you. (The lady turns to a guy working in the café.) Do you know her?
G: No.
L: She is American. Look at those legs. I used to have legs just like her, but now I am older. Look at my legs!

Everyone is silent.

L: Are those your friends? (She is pointing to the Ghanaian soccer players on the television.)
Q: No
L: What do you think about Hillary Clinton and Obama?
Q: I think change is good.
L: I like Hillary. I do not know this Obama. Hillary is a lady, but she is like a man. I would vote for her. Change is not always good. I changed husbands. Do I make the right decision? I don’t know, but I am old now. When I was married to my first husband, I was thin and beautiful. Then my friend, she liked him too! I left him. I get new husband and I don’t know if I make the right choice. Change is not always good. (I would be curious to know if her 2nd husband felt the same way. You there are two sides to every story…)

I am silent. (When elders speak and I don’t know what to say, I usually go with silence.) During this time, the lady starts playing with my hair.

L: In Rio, we sit up straight. She proceeds to move my legs directly under the table and pulls my shoulders back. You know I come here every morning. (I make a mental note of the time.)
Q: Obrigada (Thank you)
L: Have fun in Rio, and be careful. (She straightens my shoulders one last time and hits me on the back.)

Well, she pretty much occupied the majority of the 1st half of the game. Fortunately, I was able to watch the remainder of the game in peace.

As a nice reward for my tolerance, I had a wonderful opportunity at practice later. Donda, a member of the 1st Brazilian Women’s National Team, was present at our training. She is in her 40’s (which I think they consider ancient here) and she went through the entire workout with us. During our scrimmage, she played on my team and she gave me a few pointers (in Portuguese of course). It was really amazing to see her move with the ball. This lady is tiny and fast. I mean how many people get to play alongside Brazilian National Team members? This moment was priceless!

I Stay Moving

I know the posts have been slow lately. Last Friday, I received the news that I had to move from my Copacabana location. On Sunday, my bags and I moved quickly to Flamengo Beach. Upon arrival there, I was notified that I would need to temporarily stay (for the holiday) in Castelo das Pedras. Yesterday, I relocated (hopefully for the remainder of my stay) to a previous residence in Leblon. I stay moving! Until I can get situated and start writing about all of my activities, I have included a few pics from the places that I have been. The favella pics are representative of my time in Castelo. I made a conscious decision that I was not going to take pictures of the area (out of general respect--will explain in upcoming post). The last picture is of Barra Tijuca. On Tuesday, I had the opportunity to train at Barra Tijuca. It is a new development that is absolutely gorgeous! If you plan on coming to Rio, but you don´t want the hassel of Copacabana, I would suggest staying in this area. It looks like a newer Ipanema (in my humble opinion). Okay--enjoy!

Angel Award Recognition: Jersey City

The ATC (American Tourist Club) can prove to be beneficial to those of us outside the circle, if you know the code. I hope that I have adhered to those guidelines (on this blog) while still providing my readers with a various tidbits of insight from its members.

My short life has taught me that you just never know who you may need one day. On Thursday, this was case. Although Sprint keeps sending me texts repeatedly telling me that I can call the US using a special number, this is not the case. Also, I couldn’t understand the automated operator when I attempted several calls to the US as well. I was in a tight bind. Fortunately, I remembered that an ATC member was residing on my floor.

I knocked on his door. He happily greeted me, and if he could help me operate my Claro phone. This gentleman had met me only 24 hours ago, but because of the unspoken American code, he extended his assistance.

I do not want to reveal the identity of this traveler, but any other ATC members that read this blog and know a travel veteran from Jersey City, let him know that he will be hearing from me very soon. I tried to stop by to return the favor, but I never could seem to catch up with him. Of course, the ATC is constantly moving—who stays in their apartment when they are on vacation in Rio de Janeiro.

Thursday, April 17th: My Angel Award goes to Jersey City. I have attached an image of White Manor Diner for your viewing pleasure. Thank you so much!

Men Talk

I had the chance opportunity to see my interviewee walking down the street on the day of his departure. We exchanged pleasantries, and as we were conversing, another American man passed by us on the sidewalk. My interviewee stopped mid-sentence to say a few sentences to the guy. Being that I am inquisitive, I asked my interviewee if this gentleman was a member of his traveling party. My interviewee responded that he was not, but as a matter of course, the men all make a point to speak to one another.

On the next morning, I was heading out of my building when I passed by two gentleman from America. The men did not speak, but they did make a point of discussing (amongst themselves) the fact that I was American and I play soccer. I kept walking. It immediately became apparent to me that the cat was officially out of the bag.

One conversation with one American tourist was all that it took.

The following day during my afternoon visit to pick up an item or two from Zona Sul. I noticed that there was a table full of American tourists having pizza. When I passed by their table, one of the gentleman stopped me. He had not received the memo that I was American, but one of the other members quickly brought him up-to-speed. This guy had heard me speaking to my interviewee on the sidewalk a few days earlier. Had I ever met this guy formally? No, but I didn’t want to be outdone so I quickly informed him that I knew he was staying on the 9th floor in my building because his apartment appears to be an apparent revolving door for the American Tourist. The guy look taken aback but then commented that I was the “rude Brazilian” that would not speak to him on the elevator…Rude, quiet or merely observant-these adjectives are interchangeable depending upon whose side of the story that you get.

It is less than one week since my first meeting with a tourist, and I have been invited to sit down and have a conversation with four American tourists. I looked at my cell, checked the time and figured that this was an opportunity that I should seize. These guys were full of questions, and ready to provide me with a little more insight into the “American Tourist.”

Location: Zona Sul (Copacabana) Time: 15:20 Age Range: 35-50

Fast Facts:
· All of the men came alone. They did not come with a group of friends.
· All of these gentlemen are veterans to visiting Brazil.
· The gentlemen met on previous trips or during the current visit.

Initially, the guys put me on the hot seat. They were fascinated by my reason for being in Brazil. I answered their questions, and quickly moved the conversation to one that they would enjoy-themselves. I gave them a brief overview of my Not For Tourists entry, which they found to be entertaining when I publicized the famous Rua Xavier da Silva corner. However, they asked me to name the local meet-up restaurant for the brotherhood. I was stumped. Now, I had an educated guess, but no one would confirm.

As the conversation continued, the “pizza party organizer” explained that many American Tourists look forward to coming to Brazil because they have an opportunity to meet their peers. Most of these guys are have careers in professional sectors, and because everyone is 5,000 miles away from America, they are more prone to being cordial towards one another. This is something that does not necessarily occur routinely stateside. From these cordial conversations, these American men are able to exchange their experiences and, most importantly, information. For example, another gentleman approached the table with a young Brazilian woman. All of the guys knew this gentleman, and in the midst of the conversation, this gentleman spoke of needing the services of a barber. One of the gentleman announced that he has a barber who he uses when he is in town. The barber would be making a house call during the upcoming weekend, and the gentleman could come over for an edge-up.

In my hour visit with these guys, I witnessed them exchange information with each other (and me) regarding: where to buy good shoes for a low price, the location for a nearby historical military site, why everyone should go to the movies in Rio and how the theaters let you bring in food from outside the theater. Also, they allotted a few minutes to putting together their collective knowledge on a former politician’s questionable activities.

My grandfather always told me that men talk. It is true. They talk a lot. For the American tourist, these conversations are an admission pass to the boys club and instruction manual to making the most of the Brazilian experience.

Field Trip: Around Rio in 6 Hours…

I want to bring you along with me on my journey today. However, I am going to use a different format for this entry because I am tired. All the energy I had in me was utilized between the hours of 1:00 -7:00 p.m. today. Please note all conversations are being conducted in Portuguese. I have translated them for your reading pleasure…

April 14th (9:30 a.m.): I sent an email to one person in my Rio support network. Time obviously has been flying by because I realized the night before that my Visa is going to expire in either 10 days or 15 days. Either way, I need to act fast. Tomorrow is a day off of training so I am determined to have this situation handled before the close of business.

April 14th (12:35 p.m.): I receive a message back with two web site links. These two sites were not able to effectively communicate, in a way that I could undertand, the location, cost and forms that I needed to submit.

April 14th (9:00 p.m.): I email two translators listed on the U.S/Brazilian Consular site. I tell them what I need, ask if they can assist and ask for their rates.

April 15th (10:00 a.m.): I pay a visit to the mother of my hostess. I ask her if she knows where the Federal Police office is located. She gives me a location but she is not sure if it still exists.

April 15th (10:05 a.m.): I ask the two doormen if they know the location of the nearest Federal Police Office. They apologize and tell me no.

April 15th (10:07 a.m.): I receive an email message from each of the translators. One has requested to see the document and so she can provide a rate. The other told me that she is not an attorney so she is not going to be able to assist me. However, she wanted me to continue having a good time in Rio and stay dry (it rained all day today).

April 15th (10:17 a.m.): I pay the internet café guy, and then I ask him if he knows the location of the nearest Federal Police Office. He tells me to walk down the street 4 blocks. I decide to do a trial run before gathering my papers.

April 15th (10:27 a.m.): I see one federal office. However, it doesn’t say Policia. I decide to just ask anyway, who knows what I might find out.

April 15th (10:35 a.m.): The gentleman at the front desk hands me a slip of paper and tells me to go to this web site for information. I thank him and keep heading north. I need a location. These web sites are not cutting it right now.

April 15th (10:42 a.m.): I spot a Police Office. Excellent! I return home to gather all of the paperwork that I think I may need.

April 15th (11:15 a.m.): I just sit down on my bed. I know I need to just get myself together for my visit to the Police Office. It is a public facility so I am not sure what to expect, but I am confident the process will go smoothly.

April 15th (1:00 p.m.): I am standing in a very short line at the Police Office. I notice a sign that reads “Civil Policia.” I don’t know if this is the right Police office, but I am confident that they will be able to assist me in some way.

April 15th (1:15 p.m.): I make my request to the front desk receptionist. She hands me a slip of paper and tells me to go the International airport. I ask her if she knows how much an extension costs. She calls the number, and the person on the other end tells her that I am not eligible for an extension. Fortunately, I still have until May 5th to legally be in Brazil. I have more than 9 days (My visa issue date was January 24th). At this point, I don’t feel like the person she spoke to knows what they are talking about. The lady encourages me to just go to the airport. I ask her how I can get there. She asks me if I speak Spanish. I nod in the affirmative, and she tells me to take one of the blue buses. The lady wishes me well, and I leave the Civil Police Office.

April 15th (1:30 p.m.): I walk a few steps to the closest hotel. I ask the bellhop a few questions about travel to the airport. I have to know exactly which bus, if any, I need to take. Time is of the essence. He suggests that I take a cab, and quotes me a price of 30 Reais. I wasn’t trying to pay that because that would mean 60 Reais roundtrip—unless I located a bus after I successfully obtained my Visa extension. I walk away from him for a second to think, and then I return to accept the offer.

April 15th (1:38 p.m.): A black Volkswagen pulls up to the hotel. I hop in, the bellhop wishes me well, and I pass the driver the address at the airport. As he is driving off, the driver tells me the rate will be 60 Reais one way. I reply with the rate that I was told, and he calls the hotel. It is then discovered I was provided a quote for a different airport. An ongoing conversation ensues between the cab driver and hotel contact (via cell) and me, as the car circles the block in Copacabana. The cab driver secretly agrees to charge me 45 Reais. I agree to it, and we head to the airport. The driver tries to entertain me during the ride with tidbits of information about people he knows who live in the United States.

April 15th (2:15 p.m.): I enter the airport. I am not sure where I am supposed to go so I approach a cleaning lady who directs me to a desk clerk. The desk clerk instructs me to go up to the 3rd Floor.

April 15th (2:20 p.m.): I am at the 3rd floor but I do not see any signage for the Federal Police Office. Fortunately, I am standing in front of a hotel that is located inside the airport. The front desk clerk directs me to go to the end of the hall.

April 15th (2:25 p.m.): I enter the Federal Police Office, and I approach the front desk clerk. He points me to the Estrangeiro line. Yes, I am a stranger in a strange land. (I think my granddaddy said that to me right before I left to come here.) They call foreigners estrangeiros. I wait until it is my turn. A gentleman hands me a number, and points me to another line in the back.

April 15th (2:48 p.m.): An immigrations Clerk makes an announcement for the next person with a yellow ticket to come forward. My ticket is green. However, he motions to me to approach the counter. I am trying to get an extension so I comply. He looks at my ticket and makes a sarcastic comment and tells me it is not yellow. As I return to my seat, a Brazilian woman is laughing. She is holding her toddler as her “new American husband” is stumbling over some words to receive permanent residency at the counter. I don’t know if it was the look of “you could be in my shoes one day” or overhearing her husband struggling to present his file for acceptance that made this lady quickly cease her laughter.

April 15th (3:00 p.m.): I ask a British woman, who has some forms in her hand, where she obtained the forms. She briefly explained that I would receive all of the information from the clerk.

April 15th (3:10 p.m.): The immigrations clerk hands me the extension form to complete. I have to go to the cybercafé, complete an online form with the code he provided, take the form to the bank, pay the bank 67 Reais, and bring the receipt back to the desk. After he rattled off this long list, I was certain that I would have to make a return trip to the airport on the next day. The clerk politely explains to me that the cybercafé is at the end of the hall and so are the banks. I can have everything done before they closed for the day.

April 15th (3:18 p.m.): I am at the cybercafé. Another European lady, who I saw in the Immigrations office, comes over to my computer and offers her assistance while her boyfriend is printing off his paperwork. Then, the store clerk approaches my computer and quickly types in all of the information for the fields that are related to my residency in Rio so that I do not have to spend more money using the Internet.

April 15th (3:28 p.m.): With my printout in hand, I enter Banco do Brasil. The teller receives my paperwork and payment of 67 Reais. He provides me with my receipt.

April 15th (3:38 p.m.): I am at the Visa Extension counter. My paperwork is reviewed, and the clerk requests some small edits. Once these are complete, he tells me that I can stay in his country for another 90 days. Thank you! Now, I just have to find a way back to Copacabana…

April 15th (3:45 p.m.): I approach a military guard outside of the airport to ask him where I can catch a bus to Copacabana, Leblon or Ipanema. The guard laughs, imitates my request and gives me directions.

April 15th (4:00 p.m.): I am on a chartered bus which will take me back to Copacabana. The cost is 6.50 Reais. I wonder what this ride is going to be like and how long it will take me to get home.

April 15th (6:00 p.m.): Will this ride ever end? Although my ride is showing me many places that I have not seen, it is raining, I am cold and I just want to go to sleep.

April 15th (7:00 p.m.): I am off the bus, and walking to my place of residence.

According to my count, it took 22 people to assist me in completing my goal of receiving an extension on my visa. I would like to publicly thank each of them for the important role that they played today. Readers—thanks for going along for the ride. I hope you enjoyed the adventure! Future Tourists—in the event you need to extend your visas, you have step-by-step instructions of where to go, how much it costs and what your procedure will entail. Bring a good book and a blanket for that bus ride back to your Rio residence.

Interview with an American Tourist

Hello doctors, lawyers, IT gurus, journalists, ballers, preachers, teachers, fashionistas, rappers, actors, administrative assistants, superstore managers and sales clerks. Although this list is not all encompassing, I think I pretty much greeted 98% of the people that frequent this blog. I know most of you fall under that umbrella category of “ballers” so do not be offended if I didn’t list your specific job title of Chief of Paperclips at B&B records….

I have a treat for you today. As I promised in the Not For Tourist entry, I have snagged an informal, one-on-one interview with an American Tourist!!! Put your hands together and clap everyone because you are getting the inside scoop on one man’s journey to Brazil.

To maintain the identity of this gentleman, I am going to give you some general background on this guy. I think it is only fair since he was so gracious, open and frank with me in his discussion.

My typical Wednesday routine included lunch at a restaurant around the corner from my living quarters. I frequent this place so much that I simply walked up to the counter. I did not have to say an order. For protocol purposes, the cashier greeted me and told me the price of my order. As I was preparing to pay, I noticed a gentleman hunched over the counter stumbling over an attempt to communicate his order. The guy looked in my direction as I was sitting at the counter waiting to receive my food.

I proceed to my usual table on the second floor of the restaurant. Unfortunately, all of the booths were taken so I sat at a large table. The American guy came upstairs as well. He approached my table to say…”you are the reason that I came to Brazil.” Fortunately, I spoke before he had a chance to say those words. I said, “Hey, you want to sit at my table?” I think I had some residual guilt from the guy and the rental car situation, plus I had 5 empty chairs at my table. Why not share? The guy paused and with a look of surprise said, “You speak English!” He was definitely excited. We exchanged all particular information and I asked him if he would be so kind to give me his personal story. He gladly obliged. Enjoy and thanks again to my interviewee for providing me with an entertaining and insightful conversation last Wednesday.


Background: African American male who currently resides on the West Coast. This gentleman is equipped with quick wit, solid looks and a highly compensated career. (Age range: 29-33)

Q: Why did you come to Brazil?
I: I came to see the women. Some guys come to look. Other guys come to do other things. Then, there are other guys that meet women and have “long distance” relationships.

Describe your group’s make-up.
Most of the guys I know have been coming to Brazil for years. They were coming here long before the rappers and other guys publicized that it was cool to come here. One guy, in my group, has an on-again-off-again relationship with his Brazilian girlfriend. A few of the other guys have been here several times, but a few of the guys in my group are first timers like me.

Do you ever talk to the women?
Yes. When you come to Brazil, you expect to get rejected because of the language barrier. Guys do not mind that. For example, in America I would not have tried to approach you because I think you would’ve told me to go away, but here it is different. You really look Brazilian…. (Compliment Accepted by Qiana Here).

Do you think that you have received a good return on your investment?
Yes! I have seen the most beautiful women in the world here. They are everywhere. Their shape, facial features and skin complexion are second to none. (As an aside, he prefers the darker complexion ladies.)

Do you have any plans to take in any of the other sights in Rio?
Yes, I have a cultural tour scheduled on Saturday.

How do you like the clubs?
They are alright, but if you do not speak the language it is hard to talk to the women because they speak very little English, if any at all. You may dance with them for a few songs, but that is about it.

Why do guys come to Brazil, especially if they can’t communicate with the women?
Guys like to be around beautiful women. It just does something for their egos. They don’t have to talk to them. It is just wonderful for them to see them. Do these statements offend you as an African American woman?

No. I have a brother and know a number of guys who provide me with insight into the male psyche so I am not offended in the least. Also, I think (in the end) all of the pairing off just works itself out. I think it’s better that you are with the person that you want to be with than settling because of tradition or culture.

Now, if you meet and like someone who doesn’t speak your language, would you conduct a relationship with the person? No, because it is just too hard. For example, the cultural nuances can not sometimes be translated to people who are not native speakers of a particular language. I may tell a joke and she will not be able to understand it. This would be too frustrating.

What is the common perception of African American men by the Brazilian women?
They think that we are all rappers or basketball players. The ladies want to meet you because they think you have money. (For the record, this gentleman at first glance may look like he is the financial advisor for a rapper or legal counsel for the basketball player—but he definitely would not be mistaken for a rapper or basketball player in America.)

Do you plan on returning to Brazil?
I will return if I learn the language. Otherwise, I do not think so. However if I am still single when I retire, I will own a place here and come to Brazil a couple of times per year just to see the women.