That's not a name

Looking back to where I last updated the blog is exhausting. I'm tired. But things have worked out well, this week, have planned portugues classes, have found cheap living, and had a good weekend. I can't type well right now, and I don't think I'll edit this even moderately.

And so Wednesday was inconsequential and boring. Thursday night was about to be the same. Bela's cable got downgraded so no Brazil's next top model, it was out. I was sitting on the bench about to go to bed, when an American named Chad walked up. 34 then, 35 now, He is the size of Steve Nash with the same hair cut only blonde, and looked like he was from Colorado, and he was.

He had originally come to Brazil for 3 weeks and was no here for three months. He was originally headed to Florionopolis the next day, which was postponed for each day of the weekend.

And so, he asked if I wanted to go out. I did. And we walked to Batel street, which was the street of the original bar I went to on my first weekend here. The Irish Bar, The Soviet Bar, The American Bar (it was American because it had neon lights and was called Yankee bar). We walk up the street, and then down the street, each bar less promising than the one before. I did want to go into the soviet bar due to Wayne's World. It had murals of VI Lenin in strength positions.

We walk across a bar with tinted windows but enough to see people in it and a band. He speaks in broken Portuguese to the bouncer. We walk in. When they get our IDs to create our tabs, he hands them a piece of paper with his name and date of birth on it. We get our tabs and order 2 legitimate pints. After two glasses of courage he walks up to a group of women dancing in front of the band. "How do you say happy birthday" he asks me. "Feliz Anniversario" I say. It's the one thing I know.

He walks up and I stay back, partly because I didn't care yet, partly because I'd have nothing to say. When he talks it looks like Slater from Dazed and Confused. He waves me over. Lord behold they were speaking English. "Wut is yr name?" "Ben" "Been?" "Ben" "Beh?" "Ben" "Bem?" "Ben" "Ben! Like Beer" "yes." and this continues like this. I speak, they make bad jokes, and as I stand, a man walks up to me and says "Do you like Jazz music?" "I love jazz music." "You. Come with me." And I grab Chad. And he introduces us to Rafael, from Rio. "You split taxi." So we split a taxi and it drove around for a while before dropping us off in front of a bar. The original man, who had slicked black hair and a soul patch along with a bludgeoned face, walks over and pats me on the shoulder three times.

We walk in and it was pretty great. All brick on the inside with low lighting and pictures of Ella Fitzgerald everywhere. We grab drinks and he introduces me to the band. "Chicago Boolls" Conversation about Curitiba. I spoke with the band about American Jazz, what I could muster, sometimes making names up to seem educated. Sometimes not. They excuse themselves and the band goes down to play and we follow. The basement is darker, the only lights coming from candles and the lights on the band. The band starts and was impressive. I speak with original man about Miles Davis and what his best album was. He makes drum motions with his hands sometimes and then plays the bass as well. And now the piano.

The music was really good. And people continued to come up and talk to us. It was kind of remarkable. Chad leaned over and worked on a girl unsuccessfully. And drinks kept coming. Rafael then started talking to me about Rio. A couple came up to me and asked me if I like the Stooges. " I love the Stooges" They are playing in Sao Paolo, they offered I come. We exchanged numbers/info. The woman was an english teacher and explained to me why Portuguese sucked. Rafael then started talking to me about politics. I made stuff up when it was convenient. A girl sat down next. Woman sat down next to me and Raf. She had been talking to original man. In mid sentence speaking to Raf about something with oil, she jumped over and kissed my cheek and then my eye. And my eye hurt. It was stinging like hell and I couldn't open it. So I looked pretty cool. "He does not want me to do that but I want to." she said.

Luckily she drove us home. And I woke up the next morning with an unbelievable hangover.

And so Friday, I had to switch rooms, and despite going to bed at 7 am, had to wake up at 11 to switch with a headache would cause zeus to take an axe to his head.

But in the room I moved to was Chad, and he was talking to a new American, Rich. Rich was 25, from new jersey, lived in spain for two years, went to university of chicago and just graduated law school from American university and had a job lined up with a firm after he spent 3 months in South America. So he was more accomplished than me. I slept late that day and then got a hot dog. At 9 I met up with Rich in the lobby and talked about Chicago. Then we went to go get sushi. He spoke Portuguese too. I'm quite the novelty just speaking English here. We go back and at 11 head to a bar after getting beers at a gas station and drinking on the walk along the way.

The bar was an American rock bar named Crossroads, named for the Eric Clapton version presumably, by the Clapton mural above the sign.

We head upstairs, and 1130 was still too early, the bar was fairly empty. I drink a couple to several beers as Rich worries that he'll end up with a hideous girl of Japanese descent in front of us.

Rich told me a story of hooking up with a girl in Florionopolis. After spending a day at the beach the girl invites him back to her place mid day. He asks if she wants dinner, and so instead insists they make dinner. Her apt. is 1 bedroom and her parents are there. Live there. They have a candle light dinner while her parents are adjacent, 2 feet away on a couch watching TV. She then starts making out with him...again...parents 2 feet away.

And so we move over to an area where the clear favorites in terms of attractiveness are. He goes up and asks if they are sisters, which, when you have our low level of vocabulary, is about as high class as we can get. I stand still looking cool. I am clearly the best looking man at this level, so no worries.

The one thing I keep hearing from the girls is translated as "you lie." She didn't believe he was American. Then that we were friends. She said that he was my father. I asked dad if he wanted a beer. Later she walks up to me and asks me what my name is... "Ben" "Be?" "Ben" "Bem" "Ben" "Ben?" "Sim." "That's not a name." And she walked away. Some 35 year old woman then started talking to me, and then explained to me how her boyfriend was from Los Angeles. He was a drunk. He was always away. I wanted no part of that.

The next set of girls were rather boring even by our low comprehension standards. One asked me if I like the Doors. "No" "They are the greatest American rock band" "Please" and I walked away. Rich talked to another. He was trying to convince her we were brothers. Again, our standards for entertainment are very low when compared to no comprehension at all. "You are trying to cheat on me!" she exclaimed. We laughed at her. She meant trick. I get to laugh at others' comprehension.

I think i'm going to make an authors edit on the rest of that night. It wasn't something mom should read.

So we get out of the bar at six. Someone was speaking german so I spoke to him. Man in his forties. Then he asks "so how do you know Chad?" I was like "WHo" he was at the American from Chicago's bbq i attended some time before. How bout that, I'm running into people who know me here.

And so we get back to seven and I sleep away. Lunch/dinner/sunday/monday/tuesday.

And I'm all caught up.