Arquivos de agosto de 2011
On Saturday, I got my stripes. “Perder faz parte,” my football godfather said with a worried look as we bid each other goodbye before the Botafogo-Fluminense game. “Losing’s part of it.” Pump-up talk: you’re doing it wrong. But I was prepared for wailing and gnashing of teeth – perhaps readier to grovel than to exult. As Nelson Rodrigues famously put it: "The Botafogo fan buys his ticket like someone obtaining the sacred, inalienable right to suffer". Consider my ticket purchased. — Leia o post completo.
Just look at it. Why in the hell did it take me so goddamn long to visit this place? I swear I’d written down “Real Gabinete Português de Leitura” on some notepad with a list of things to do in Rio, but it must’ve gotten lost in the predeparture shuffle. Anyway, today, finally, I cruised up to Centro to see the RGPL for myself. It was either that or the Museu de Arte Moderna, but the RGPL won out after I dawdled long enough in Jardim Botânico that there was no time to give the museum a proper visit. — Leia o post completo.
Jesus, you must be the only person who arrives in Rio and goes straight to the cemetery. [email from a carioca] Paying my respects to Carmen, that’s all. In 1955, her funeral procession stopped Rio cold as 500,000 people wended their way through the streets to the Cemitério São João Batista in Botafogo. Things were slightly less crowded today. — Leia o post completo.
O Brasil era a última coisa que passava na minha cabeça quando entrei na faculdade. Estava certa de que me formaria em Letras ou História. Para me manter afiada no espanhol, fiz algumas aulas de literatura latinoamericana – o suficiente para, quem sabe, ir à Espanha ou México sem passar vexame. Minha única ligação com o Brasil era o fato de ter visto o filme Cidade de Deus. Agora, dois anos depois, estou morando no Rio.
O que aconteceu nesse tempo?— Leia o post completo.