thirdworldgurltravelstheworld

I am in Africa.Yes, I am aware that Africa is a continent not a country and that there are give or take 56 countries in Africa. But sill I get to say so because a) I’m in Africa!!! b) My time here is dwindling  down and I only have one month left c) If the internet goes down before the end of this post, I thought you should know. 

It’s been a year since I’ve updated this blog. 

I actually have 0 good excuse as to why it’s been so. It wasn’t a lack of stories, travel or even time. It was obviously procrastination and in a way it was fear. When I started this blog, I allegedly started on a journey hoping to achieve something. Was I getting there? Am I actually on the right path? It’s as if I was expecting someone to read this blog and say “Hey you! What’s up with these projects and goals? Can we maybe get there?” When I started this blog it was as much a stress relief therapy through grad school applications as it was about sharing my experience with you. 

A year later and on the way to getting more degrees than I will ever need,you know what, I do hope somebody will hold me accountable to what I set forth. I do hope someone will ask what’s up with those goals. I’m going to attempt to fill in the blanks while sharing my present. 

When you’re part of an exclusive club of 8 million people isolated on one third of an island (Haitian), your perception of the world and of yourself can be quite insular. Maybe it’s not just Haitians that think the entire world revolves around them, but alas I can only speak to the Haitian experience. It feels like a gigantic slap in the face the first time you tell someone “I’m from Haiti” and their reaction is “Ahhh, and where is that?” You’re shocked that such ignoramus dares to roam the world, but you eventually realize that it’s the norm. Your country is after all just one third of a Caribbean island with only 8 million inhabitants. Armed with this reality check, you then become intrigued whenever you meet a fellow traveler who actually knows of Haiti, because their stories can be quite intriguing. I met one such traveler in Cordoba, Argentina.

Cordoba was my next stop after Buenos Aires on my journey towards northern Argentina. I only had one day to spend in the city so as soon as I hopped off the night bus from Bs As, I set to explore town. I found a lot of the elements I loved about Bs As, in Cordoba: cafes everywhere, Spanish colonial architecture, lush green parks, quirky public art  and a strong political memory especially of the dictatorship. Cordoba did have a more laid back feel to it, and I still want to kick myself for missing out on the fun college town nightlife it offers.

While visiting one of the parks, an American tourist stopped me to ask for directions, which was pretty ironic considering that I absolutely did not look like a local, and I had no idea where I was headed myself. We started swapping travel war stories which lead to the obligatory “where are you from?”

-I'm from Haiti

-My sister named her son a traditional Haitian name

-Really?????? Which one

-Hankasel

(Eyes wide open and checking my ears to see if I heard correctly)

-???? Can you repeat that?

-Hankasel

-Oh, (silence) OK

I've had this picture of Buenos Aires in my head for a long time: the Paris of South America, Tango in the street, meat, wine, cheap! Basically a sum of all the cheesy cliches  I had read from my first guidebook which kept making me want to discover the city more and more. So, after many failed attempt, I was ready to take on Buenos Aires

The first thing, expect more protests in the streets than tango. Either political consciousness is particularly high in Argentina, or things are just that bad, but I've never seen that many protests going on in a city at the same time. Whether it was near Plaza de Mayo or on Avenida 9 de Julio, I quickly got used to the sound of fireworks shot mid-day or the sight of activists throwing pamphlets in the air in front of the Casa Rosada. 

The second thing, do yourself a favor and don't become a vegetarian right before going to Argentina.This is after all the land of meat, and your waiter will ask: meat or chicken? So put vegetarianism on hold unless you want to live a life of pizza, and cafe y medialunas. But if you persist on following that foolish vegetarian path,thank god for those cafe con medialunas deals.

Third, bring cash. The exchange rate is much more favorable if you do. Maybe Bs As will even  feel cheap for you. But if, like me, you weren't in on this little secret and get stuck counting dollars and cents, it's adios cute leather bag.

Fourth, the people are amazing. Seriously! They are just so nice. I met with a future classmate there, and him and his pregnant wife took so much time out of there busy life to meet with me and drive me around town at the wee hours of the night, even though I had no clue where exactly I was going. Within an hour of meeting me, here they were apologizing for not having enough space to host me in their house, even though they had a young child at home. How thoughtful! I truly kept meeting ridiculously nice people there, and that was the highlight of my trip.

It's extremely hard for me to understand why anyone would need motivation to travel since it's something I always, and I truly mean always, wanted to do.  But alas, some people need convincing to travel -the same people who don't like chocolate, cheese or wine I suppose- and many articles have been written on why should travel while you're young, single, after a break-up etc...

If none of these buzzfeed lists convinced you that traveling is the greatest thing ever, here are a few more reasons to help sway the balance.

1. Traveling is much cheaper than you think. Take it from the girl who spent $7 USD on lodging per night, with breakfast included, in Northern Argentina. Obviously, I wasn't staying at a resort, though I've heard that this price may get you a resort in Vietnam if you play your cards right, but I have standards, and at this price, my hostel in Salta exceeded them. Think about that next time you spend 7 bucks.

2. You'll briefly experience what it's like to be a celebrity (if you travel somewhere where you are not part of the ethnic majority). People taking your picture while walking down the street? Check. People pointing at you and turning their heads to look at you? Check. People asking you to take pictures with them? Check. It gets really tiring really quickly, and soon you'll feel a wave of understanding for poor Britney for a minute, and you'll also be convinced that Beyonce isn't possibly human. On the other hand, if you absolutely enjoy that, sign up for a reality TV show  stat.

3. You'll feel like you're in a movie. Sometimes the scenery will be so breathtaking it will feel like you stepped on the set of one of your favorite films. I could have sworn that Zorro was right around the corner in Cafayate, and I totally had an Indiana Jones moment at Angkor Wat. Other times, the crazy adventures that you will live will make you wonder if it was real life or fiction. Did I really get chased down a pizzeria by a hooker in the middle of the night in Frankfurt? Who knows!

4. You will get a crazy amount of business ideas, and if you don't believe me, just remember that TOMS were founded after a trip to Argentina. Blake Mycoskie didn't invent anything, he just brought an existing product  to a new market in an innovative way. So if you think traveling will interfere with your get rich or die trying plan, perhaps you should consider traveling as part of that plan. 

5. You will diversify your newsfeed, because after that 50th post about the weather in New York, that girl from Thailand who you met last summer will definitely have something different to talk about. If only you spoke Thai...

6. You will be the sucker, and it's not necessarily a bad thing. As a tourist, your sole purpose is to be taken advantage of. You are here to boost economies, buy overpriced crap that no one will like or use, but alas souvenirs are a must, take tours and wonder what the hell did I just pay for? It's OK, every minute a sucker is born, and sometimes you're the sucker. Why not learn that lesson on your way to Machu Picchu 

Imagina na Copa. Imagine (what will happen) during the World Cup.

That was was the rallying cry of every worried  Brazilian during the months leading to the World Cup. Whenever your bus was stuck in traffic or you couldn't get the right explanations for the alternate Metro-bus route, someone would say "imagina na copa". And honestly the Copa was a scary thought. Rio is a crowded city with limited infrastructure. Could you imagine what it would be like with a sea of people invading the city?

During the months leading to the World Cup, love of football and will to cheer seemed to be on pause, frozen until people could assess what the real damage would be from this Copa, and then decide if yes or no it was OK to cheer. Plus the constant media articles on the lack of preparedness of Brazil were not helping to put anyone at ease. It's as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for a gigantic catastrophe.

Well, I'm happy to report that the sidewalks were fine, the public transportation was fine, really everything worked OK. Yellow and green became the colors of the season, and the flag, any flag, was the must have accessory. Better yet, this World Cup has been called the best one ever. 

 I love World Cups.

I truly, madly deeply love them. 

I woke up at 1:00 am to watch games no one cared about back in 2002. 

I rerouted my commute just so I could watch games on my phone on my way to work in 2010. 

And, if I'm being honest, my attraction to Brazil as a country started with rooting and cheering for the Brazilian football team, and I am mad about that team.

For 8 years I had a dream and one main objective in life which was to go to the World Cup in Brazil, because obviously it could only be the greatest thing on earth, the highlight of my life, the story I will bore children with when I'm old and senile.

 But then the protests started, and I found out that the love of my life was just truly evil.

Do you know what it feels like to be in love with evil? You know it's wrong, but you try by anyway possible to rationalize your behavior.

"Well the Brazilian government is conducting mass evictions, but in the long run they would have needed to do so if they wanted to bring certain services to the favelas"

"What's the point of protesting now? The damage is already done, might as well host the World Cup and deal with the aftermath later, come elections time"

I would love to say that I stood my moral ground, boycotted the World Cup and took to the streets to protest with my friends, but that was not the case.

The weak heart consumerist that I am stayed up until 4:00 am monitoring  the FIFA website every night during the last ticket sales phase, until I could buy my ticket. I then flew last minute to Brasilia to watch a game. Adding insult to injury, I even bought a ridiculous hat of the ridiculously cute mascot at an even more ridiculous price once I was inside the stadium. 

The things you do for love

In the build up to the World Cup, the two camps in Brazil seemed to be those rooting for the country and those rooting for the Copa.

I pretended that it was possible to be on both teams, root for both Brazil and for the gigantic waste of money that was the  Copa.

After several attempts at finding the perfect beach, I had given up on the idea. The perfect beach did not exist. The combination of warm clear water with close to zero waves was just not something that existed in Rio. There were perfect beach moments though. Ipanema on an early Friday morning if it hadn't rained in the past days could be a delight. I even saw fish banks swimming there one day! Leme in the afternoon is not a bad option either.

But one day I randomly discovered Sao Conrado. It's a beach nested between the Morro Dois Irmaos and the Pedra da Gavea. It's the last beach in the south zone before you hit Barra da Tijuca. It's a bit further out but not a huge trek per se, which is why I found it so odd that the beach was so empty. Don't get me wrong, I truly welcomed being able to lay on the beach without the screams and shouts of biscoito globo or mate vendors omnipresent in Ipanema or Copacabana. But I could not understand how a beach with water so blue and clear could be so deserted. And the best part? Zero waves! At least close to the shore because there was a band of sand that broke the waves and created a little strip of mini beach with warm water. I had hit the jackpot. Except, no other carioca thought so. Every one I recounted my experience seemed extremely skeptical. "Sao Conrado is typically a very dirty beach, the sewage goes straight to that beach". "Typically it's a surfer's beach, known for it's big waves" "No one goes there, because only people from the favelas go there, and it's not very safe". "If no one goes there there's probably a reason, and you shouldn't go either"

In Rio, I live in close proximity to my neighbors. We've never met, but I've smelled their morning coffee, the chicken they fried or even their body wash. My roommate and I agreed, we weren't a fan of that body wash, and so we got our neighbor a bath set for Christmas. Having great open windows which let in all the sunshine I want to soak, means I also have to take in the sounds. Morning sounds: construction work, bus speeding and  squeaking  and one neighbor's scratch-throat-and-spit routine. Evening sounds: mostly loud music typically Brazilian funk, the occasional boom bang sounds -which make wonder gunshots or fireworks- and couples arguing of course. Today being the third holiday over the last four days, I was particularly rewarded on the funk-fireworks side. Truth is, I was leaning fireworks, since today is the day of Sao Jorge (Saint George) whom Brazilian are particularly fond of, but since yesterday this happened, I had my doubts. In any case, I have a feeling devotion to Sao Jorge Guerreiro, Saint George the Warrior, is only about to get stronger around here.

Ever since I decided to live in between two worlds, I've been living in a constant world of saudade. Saudade is a Portuguese and Galician term that doesn't have any  direct translation in English. Most dictionary entries describe it as a melancholy and nostalgia for something, somewhere, someone,  perhaps something that never even happened. It's what Cesaria Evora sings about in her song Sodade. Before I even understood Portuguese, this song always brought that feeling of nostalgia. I remember ridding the bus, listening to  this song on repeat and feeling a loss of purpose and direction in my life. Emotions are universal, even when untranslatable. 

Happy to report that I now feel that my life is on the right track. But to do so, I had to split my world between Rio and New York, and I'm always either missing one or the other. It's like a whirlwind of missing out and catching up. Hence the saudade. Can all my loved ones move to Rio already? Or better, can New York become tropical, warm and friendly?

Until one of these two miracles happen, I'll continue to enjoy all the beautiful music inspired by the word, since I can do that anywhere. This cool NPR show dedicated to saudade is a good place to start.

In any case, Eu tenho muita saudade de voces