Fridays have become my new favorite day for an evening at home! This week was very full (though I suppose that doesn’t mean much for me– I only worked 20 hours for my clients), so Friday was a chance to blow of steam through random projects. From artistic, and quickly going nerdy:

I finished a self-portrait! Well, it didn’t start out that way– it was just a technique I thought would be fun to play with (painting with melted wax). But half of my projects become self-portraits anyway.

I started the Garage Sale Site (with some new story ideas, and high hopes). It’s a pretty clean startup company prospect, but not one that I want to push, though I could work with someone else on it. I want to finish it in time to use it to sell of my stuff this summer.

I think I started a new field of science! Inspired by the discussions of my class on exploring the future, I’m developing a framework for combining System Dynamics and Complexity Theory. I’ll call it “Histrionics” (from “Historical Physics” and “Cybernetics”). It’ll be right up there with the Rising Constant (n²p) as one of my great contributions to humanity.

I build some software a few months ago for making a collection of random partial backups of all my data on CDs (because backing up everything at once is such a timesink). Well, last week I got a nice big external hard drive, so I started merging in some ideas to make it an passive-aggressive version-controlled repository for all my projects, email, and media. I’m calling it the Two Bit Secretary.

It’s best to write up one’s final wishes (living will (especially), legal will, funeral service details (if you want)) before actually dying. And it was one of my 101/1001 goals, so here’s a pass at them: Death Wishes.

I’m not worrying about making a proper legal document, at least until I have more valuable stuff. Am I missing anything important? Have you taken a different approach to doing this?

It was a good party, and totally copless. I walked around the apartment when the party was in full swing to hear the noise. At the loudest spot, a humming appliance next door was still louder. Except for Steph’s laugh, which you could hear anywhere.

I got some good loot from the party too! For that matter, here’s all the stuff I have in my party “lost and found” bag, in approximate reverse history:

Clothes:

• Light blue winter cap (from this party)
• White Hanes T-Shirt
• Brown with white threadlines hat (ivy cap?)
• Medium black fleece sweater
• Small black button-down top with embroidered flower design
• Black Zelda shirt
• White reinforced Hanes socks
• White studded belt
• Small black hoodie (stretchy material)
• Women’s black lace underwear
• Small black sock, “12-24 mths *circo*”
• Grey Fruit of the Loom undershirt

Other:

• Victorinox SwissTool in black carrier (from this party)
• Streamlight TwinTask 2L (from this party)
• Twine ankle bracelet (?) with three pale stone beads
• 3/4 circle piecing with pink stud
• Necklace with Q-Link pendant
• Green simple bracelet
• Orange foam dart

Contact me if it’s all yours. Sorry for not trying harder to return this stuff before.

And my black light poster board attracted a bunch of drawings! Many by the incredibly talented , but others too.

Long ago, there were three sexes: male, female, and a union of the two. Each person was built like a ball, with two faces looking opposite directions. Though fast and strong, originally humans were neither agile nor bold. Like antelope, they would roam in herds, and lived happily and complacently where food was plentiful.

The gods were displeased, because humans spent no time worshiping them, made no fine arts, and any god-child unfortunate enough to be raised amongst them would grow up utterly bereft of noble desires. They considered annihilating the whole race, as they had the giants.

After long reflect, Zeus said, “I think I have a plan to give them ambition. I shall give them a twist, and turn one face around, so that it can only stare inside. Like a bubble of air in dough, I’ll place a bit of nothingness in the center of each one, and turn that inner face to look at it. It will be the same nothingness of which we ourselves are made.” And it was done.

The new humans became anguished and miserable, because they feared the pocket of divine nothingness in their hearts. They devoted themselves to material possessions or gluttony to try to fill their void. Zeus saw that they were dying and took pity on them. He turned their generative organs to the front, for this was not always their position, so humans now sewed their seed not like grasshoppers in the ground, but in one another.

The other gods objected. “They will think only of joining together to try to regain a false semblance of their original form, and when they cannot they will be despondent,” Apollo cried. So Zeus bestowed one final gift. He gave each person a special compass, which would point them in the direction of the next few steps on the twisty trail to happiness. Sometimes it would point toward other people, sometimes to other places, sometimes to contemplation, and sometimes to creation.

I want to host this weekend! I have a bunch of left-over bits of liquor, so I’m calling a Left-Over Booze party. Bring your half-empty bottles of whatever, and we’ll try to polish them off! And bring yourself and your hot lingerie from Lingerie Night, and we’ll see what happens…

I’ve talked to most of the neighbors, and I don’t expect any more police problems. You never know, but I’m not going to ask people in the house to tip-toe (just the people on the front porch).

Guests generally fine, but check with me.

Sao Paulo– my poor toes let me see everything I wanted (but most of it was closed for Carnaval), and then promptly demanded that I give them some two-day-late tending. Sao Paulo is a very nice city: clean, well-organized, full-to-bursting, plenty of pedestrian streets and nice plazas. Most incredible thing I encountered there, on a block of sex and hat stores, was a huge no-chain-stores version of Cambridge’s Garage. There were like 20 tattoo parlors, as many music stores, clothing and accessories of every kind– punk, rock, skater, black power, reggae, fetish, boots, leather, vegan– and a few custom tailors in case they didn’t have what you wanted. I finished the day stuffing myself on tasty, cheap Brazillian pay-by-the-kilo

Here are the last pictures…

Florianopolis:

San Pantana Bay

Pantana do Sul Beach

Rio de Janeiro (Ipanema):

Rio de Janeiro (Other):

Sao Paulo:

And some final thoughts…

Going to South America was fantastic– it was wonderful getting out; every place I went to had a million appeals, very friendly people, delicious food, beautiful vistas; and it reminded me of all the reasons I adore travel.

But it was also a very different experience from traveling around Europe. There wasn’t the same knee-deep history, or architectural treasures, or sprawling museums. The trip seemed the wrong length: both too long and too short to abandon the goings-on of Cambridge, and definitely too short to properly explore three countries. I would have enjoyed sharing it with just about anyone. I expected a similar thrill moving on to each new location, but it wasn’t there. Maybe it’s because I haven’t spent my life dreaming of that continent. In Europe, one of the joys of travel for me was learning to meet new people, and to wade in life without attachments so that I could practice recreating myself. For this trip, that was both easy and unfulfilling– I’d already learned what I knew of it in Europe, and I didn’t travel long enough to take further.

At the same time, I did find something wonderful about each place. My now-favorite city in South America, Neuquen, I would never have visited if it hadn’t been for couchsurfing (which was a wonderful experience). And every other place I found myself had something wonderful to discover– maybe as good as anything in Europe– I just didn’t expect it to. I might have better learned to expect the unexpected, but I rarely knew where to look. Secretly I was sure I’d come back and move to eastern Europe. And it was a real surprise that the trip, point by point, mostly convinced me to return there. South America has everything I need in a continent.

If I’d dreamed more of South America– read more about it, felt the call to see what I’d read about– I probably would have gotten more of a thrill. But reading my guidebook did nothing for it. Footprint South America was poorly organized and uninspiringly written, and made some other odd choices (like putting everything in terms of US$). I don’t know if other any books are better, but I disrecommend Footprint.

I’m back in Cambridge! The US always looks so funny after traveling abroad. It’s such a quaint country– a little run down, sexually uptight, rather chubby. But it’s home, and I’m glad to be back.

I really do love Cambridge (greater-Cambridge, Boston included), for a million reasons, and it’s going to kill me leaving it. But would you all disown me if my big move this June is to Rio de Janeiro?

Brazil isn’t my favorite country; Rio is far from my favorite city. But for its huge diversity, for its place in an incredible travel network, for being simultaneously prospering and in desperate need, for speaking the second-most-beautiful language in the world, I think it might be just right.

The bus I got for the 19 hours to Rio from Florianopolis was the cheapest one available. I sat next to a nice Spanish journalist, who’s totally obsessed with Brazil and Florianopolis and told me about everything I missed. The rivers on the way all run brown from the flooding, which was suggestive with all the many-buttocked hills along the way.

Rio de Janeiro is an incredible city, but I can’t decide if I love it or hate it. It’s actually several interesting cities in one: the few I saw were Ipanema, a hip beach resort/gay area; the Centro, with wide avenues, big squares, a few museums and many big businesses; and Santa Teresa, a village on a hill, with twisty streets, craft shops, and a bohemian vibe. The sudden hills, the bay, and the beaches are occasionally awe-inspiring, occasionally gross. The Favelas, the ghettos, grow up every hill, and the ubiquitous graffiti looks a lot like big hacking sign-ins. The bus system is a mess (which is to say, there are a zillion buses and no maps), and most everything was shut down for Carnaval.

Carnaval was mostly uninspiring. The parts that I had access to without expensive tickets, lead time, or connections amounted to vast drunken debauchery (which I have no trouble finding at home, though not on such a scale). Several main streets in the center became solid blocks of humanity, plus roving drum bands, and endless vendors each selling one of the same three items (meat-on-a-stick, corn, and beer).

My feet hurt from a triple assault of sleeping in wet socks, wading in (slightly) toxic water, and walking with sand in my shoes all day (I got in my beach though!). I also got in some decent clubbing with a band of Brazilians, friends of Fred, my helpful communist host.

Florianopolis has about the best vacation setup possible. It’s a little (couple hours longways across) island with a big lake in the middle, and the north is dominated by tourists, the east by young people, nightlife, and popular beaches, and the south by unspoilt nature. There’s a map in the hostel I stayed at with little cartoons of people having different kinds of fun around the island; all the women are wading or sunbathing, and the men do all other activities. For some of the beaches, the women aren’t wearing bathing suits.

Alas, this paradise is not for me to enjoy this year. I came to relax on the beaches and even out my tan (which is currently concentrated on my nose), and it didn’t stop raining the whole time I was there. The second day, it achieved torrential-downpour-levels, and the hostel started to flood: one of the room’s ceilings ceased to function (except as a kind of permeable membrane); a storm drain overflowed in the main hallway; the streets outside became rivers. I went to the south before the rain got bad looking for a nice walk. I found my isolated fishing village, but didn’t find the trail before the rain washed out my enthusiasm for the venture. *shrug*– rain happens.

An extraverted Canadian almost convinced me that the best place to experience Carnaval was right in Florianopolis. Hostels around Rio de Janeiro are essentially booked, and room rates are excessive. I went through a ton of couchsurfing profiles and sent off a pile of requests, all of which were coming back negative. Until, that is, a cool, very liberal dude in Niteroi with a tiny flat, said that if I could squeeze in, he’d let me. So I’m off to Rio!

(Well, was off to Rio– I’m now there and gone, and soon to return to the states!)

My plan in Puerto Iguazu was to see the falls for half a day, then take a bus across the border into Brazil and catch the next long-distance bus somewhere fun. I was on schedule leaving the park, caught the bus, and made sure to tell the driver that I needed to stop at Brazilian customs (otherwise, they drive through). I got off, filled out the form, and waited in line. When I got to the window, the guy kept flipping through my passport before saying something I couldn’t understand. He passed it to the other officer: “American citizens need a visa to enter Brazil. You have go back. I’m sorry.”

Oh.

I found out I could get a visa in Puerto Iguazu the next day. So with tears in my eyes, I went back out to wait for the next bus. After a little while, one of the taxi drivers came over and we talked in Spanish. Where was I headed? No, the last bus to the terminal already passed. You’d better take a taxi. Look, there’s one over here!

I got in and he drove away from the customs post, with a wink to the other taxi. He was charging me an illegally high rate, but I didn’t know it at the time. As we drove into town, it dawned on me that all of the signs were in Portuguese.

Oops.

At the bus terminal in Brazil, I confirmed that there were no more buses, and I needed to take another expensive taxi back. “Tell the driver not to stop at the border to Brazil, because you’re currently illegal.” I got a taxi and told the driver. He seemed uncomfortable about it, but said okay. A guard was watching as we approached the border post, and we slowed down. At the last second, the guard looked down at his cellphone, and we slid on by.

I got the ungodly expensive visa the next day (payable only in large unmarked bills). I think it was the last one they accepted that day for same-day issue. My next stop: Florianopolis.