Uma Semana

One week to go before the marriage. Posts will probably be hard to come by the next few days.

After we say I do, expect to hear all the juicy details.

About cake.

I do love cake.

On Stage

If you enjoy this blog, then you'll probably enjoy an evening at As Was Written. It's a show that my friend Tim and I co-host that brings together on one stage writers from diverse styles. We're doing it Saturday, October 25 at the Lyceum in Alexandria, VA.

I'll be reading a piece that I can describe as blog-esque. It'll be about Brazil, but will include stuff I haven't felt comfortable putting online in print for the world to see.

We've filled about 50 seats so far. Seventy are left.

Everything is here: http://aswaswritten.com.



...And...end of plug.

Up Front

For the lion's share of the last decade, I've had a job that requires travel. It's a perk I've consistently enjoyed. My job has taken me to over half the states in the US and five foreign countries. Without a doubt, there's a lot of this big world that I wouldn't have seen without it.

That doesn't mean travel is always a luxury. For every cool trip I've taken, there's been a 26-hour run to St. Louis to go with it (I've been there twice and only seen the Arch once, from a plane).

During the height of travel season each year, I commonly find myself in Terminal C of Reagan National, my face resting in my hands, listening to the same woman on the intercom every five minutes saying, "The USO Lounge is open daily..." and thinking about the lonely Holiday Inn room waiting for me way over there in one of those other time zones.

The goal for all business travelers who trek our carry-on bags deep into coach is that we can one day sit up front with the lucky few. First class. It represents everything that flying can be. It's like traveling with the characters from Mad Men minus the cigarette smoke. It's the opposite of draining. It's like you're not flying.

Airlines dangle frequent flyer programs out in front of travelers and we gobble them up the same way young boys 23-year old men stay up all hours of the night playing video games: If there's a level higher than where we are and its within reach, we're going to do what we can to reach it.

My first trip in first class didn't happen until last December--a good six years after I started traveling for my job. I had cobbled together enough US Airways miles within the calendar year to reach Silver status and then Gold. The trip? A 25-minute jump from DC over to Philadelphia...at 6:55 am.

I boarded like a king. Took my seat. Watched all those little people drag their sorry asses to the back. Drank my OJ. Ate my snack.

Sure, we sat on the runway for a longer period than we spent in the sky. It didn't matter. I had made it.

The truth is that reaching x status doesn't really mean much of anything since it doesn't guarantee first class. You learn this quickly when asking for upgrades that never take shape. Furthermore, your shiny little x status is only good for domestic upgrades. The international stuff is saved for mileage rainmakers like George Clooney in Up in the Air: Emotionally impotent travelers who spend such a huge slice of their lives in the sky that the airlines treat them like actual friends--people these travelers so desperately wish they had.

Now that I'm in Brazil full time, my shiny status doesn't seem to serve me much good, which is ironic since earning big chunks of miles 5,000 at a time flying to the US has never been easier.

It's all soul-draining stuff. The constant ebb and flow of wasted hope on upgrades that don't happen. I know the truth of it all. You really want to fly first class? Pony up the cash or let go of the dream.

It's this kind of attitude that left me completely floored last week when a kind, beautiful, perfect, flawless, goodhearted, loving US Airways desk lady nonchalantly tapped a few keys at my asking and printed out a first class ticket with my name on it. Charlotte to São Paulo. Nine hours and fifteen minutes of unlimited food, drink, movies and a seat so big it was both a window and an aisle, a chair and a bed.

I was the first one to board the flight because I was both A) more excited than I ever had been before to fly and B) I still didn't fully believe this was happening.

Zone One was called out on the intercom and sure enough, the boarding pass for seat 2A beeped under the scanner like everybody else's.

The next four hours were spent eating bad (but better than coach) food, drinking free cocktails, starting and then abandoning a host of recent comedies and awkwardly holding the classic "hot towel" that my flight attendant brought me.

By the time I decided to extend my chair out into a bed, my head was spinning to the point that I had to sit down in the bathroom for a few minutes before returning to my seat. I felt like a freshman in college, still figuring out what this booze stuff was and how much of it I could handle. Keep it together, JMD.

I laid down and awoke in the daylight. We were 20 minutes from landing. I didn't want the flight to end. I wanted to sleep more. I wanted to eat more. I wanted to put on the socks they gave me in my little gift bag.

As thrilling as it all was to have finally made it to the front, the dark cloud of coach misery still hung over me. I could see it whenever I looked around. There were 20 first class seats on my flight. I counted six other passengers.

It depressed me because even though I was upfront with the kings, I knew there were dozens of me's sitting back there in the darkness. Their upgrade requests denied. Their statuses, useless. How many flights had I been on where this amount of prime real estate lay vacant? No wonder it never happens and may never happen again.

I shook my head in disappointment, took off my Bose Quiet Comfort headphones, put down my breakfast pastry and waited for the wheels to touch down. All this while thinking, "How can I do this again, and again, and again?"

High Wire

In São Paulo, it's easy to find yourself walking a thin line of safety. Most people try to avoid these situations.

I'm here in town for a brief few moments between USA trips. My co-workers Brian and Laura are also visiting. 

This afternoon, Brian and I went to the mall for a quick errand. As we walked back, we crossed the bridge a block from my house that spans over the bustling Avenida Vente Tres de Maio.

"Woah," I said, interrupting a story Brian was telling me, "watch this."

In front of us, rising above the heads of the other sidewalk pedestrians, a man appeared. His clothes were a mess. His face a little dirty. A short cigarette hung from his lips. His feet were perched on top of the bridge's hand railing--the railing that separates the safety of the sidewalk from the traffic that swooshes some 50 feet below.

He loosened his grip and slowly straightened his torso. He stood tall and upright. Passersby came to a stop.

The man turned from the highway and focused his attention on the handrail under his soles. He put one foot in front of the other and walked toward us, along the rail, toward the center of the bridge. His pace was jarringly normal. His demeanor, calm.

This particular handrail is maybe two or three inches wide.

Brian and I passed him, eye level with his shins. We stopped to watch with some others. This all happened in a handful of seconds so surreal and unpredicted that I turned to Brian and nonchalantly said one of the most horrible things a person can say, "Well, do you wanna watch this guy fall to his death or do you want to just go home?"

Everyone around us could not believe what was happening. We chuckled intermittently to break the tension. Anything to divert us from the glaring reality that we were about to watch a man lose his life and possibly take a few innocent motorists with him.

I squatted behind a concrete barrier. From my vantage, I could see the man and his feet, but nothing below that.

I vividly remember in my final year of college driving around a corner just as a drunk driver in front of me lost control of his vehicle. He sped recklessly into a ditch. I saw the telephone pole in front of him. I diverted my eyes. Later, I realized this reaction was my body telling me, "Don't watch this man die." Today, instinctually, I felt myself doing this again.

Another few seconds passed and the man's nimble feet took him all the way across to the other side. He hopped down to safety and took a few victorious puffs on his cigarette. As we turned to walk home, he turned in the opposite direction and continued down a path I'll never understand.

Brian and I needed a while to decompress afterwards. I thought about how different things could have been. He could have fallen, yes, but what if he fell just as we were passing him? What if one of the eye witnesses got it wrong and said we had pushed him? That's not a position either of us want to be in as English-speaking foreigners.

When we returned home, I poured us a few necessary cocktails. We told Daniela and Laura the story. We sent work e-mails and made wedding phone calls. Washed dishes. Set the table for dinner. Another hour and the moment was past. There was no way of telling where he was by then. Life, like him, walked on.

Born to Win

My first trip home since arriving in Brazil in late February. Been here in Alexandria, VA for about 36 hours so far.

-Greeted at the airport by this young man:

-Immediately go to Five Guys, not home. There's no time. The first few meals are already selected. Five Guys for lunch on Sunday. Los Toltecos for dinner. Royal Thai on lunch for Monday. Ben and Jerry's after lunch--Cherry Garcia to start. Chadwick's $4 chicken quesadilla for dinner.

-Of everything above, the one that hit the hardest in the this-is-exactly-what-I-was-missing category was undoubtedly Five Guys. Absolute perfection. Ben and Jerry's takes second.

-Stars and Stripes forever taste like:

-Overwhelmed by the beauty and cleanliness around me. I realize immediately how accustomed I am to the graffiti-ed walls and littered streets of Sao Paulo. America looks like the future.

-Get to work immediately on all the things I have to do. Renting a tuxedo here instead of Brazil in order to save roughly $500 in rental fees per suit. It's outrageous there. The place I want to go is slammed. Leave. Go get haircut. Buy a shirt at Old Navy. It's Tax Free Weekend.

-Reach an awkward sort of breaking point while using the free wifi at a Starbuck's to make a call on my cell phone. Feel like I do not fit in anymore in this world. This was my place, but no longer. Brazil is just different in all respects and my brain has adjusted to it. That's reality now.

-Everyone is so good looking. They look upbeat, healthy and happy. Cheerfulness all around.

-Arrive back home. Don't think to turn on the AC.

-Drive a car for the first time in 5.5 months. Immediately start fooling with my cell phone. Difficult at first to deal with cars that are in front of me when I don't want them to be. I'm used to walking on busy sidewalks where you can just go around a person. It's the first time in my life I realize how limited driving is in comparison to walking. When you're walking, you're always calling the shots.

-Without a doubt, the drawback that catches my eye the most are the cop cars quietly crawling up and down the roads waiting for drivers to make a mistake so they can write a ticket. This feels inexcusably like bullying to me. In Brazil, police don't pull drivers over. They're constantly on guard trying to stop real crime. You can jaywalk right in front of them. You can pull your car onto the sidewalk to park while you run over to an ATM. It doesn't matter. That's not crime. I feel like I can do anything in Brazil as long as it doesn't involve drugs, guns or hurting someone else. Here, the idea of being penalized for going 57 in a 45 is outrageous. But you're the cops. Go stop criminals.

-See groups of old friends. So refreshing. It feels like no time has passed with any of them.

-English. Everywhere. Like deep breaths of pure oxygen into your lungs.

-Never remember to turn the AC on the first day. Wake up to a house that's about 77 degrees. Turn it to 75.

-Start to feel more at home.

-Return to the tuxedo rental place Monday morning. From the moment I walk in with no solid idea of what I want till the moment I leave with measurements taken, paperwork completed, deposit paid: One hour. No one cried. No champagne. None of my friends gave me their opinions. No photos taken. Just simple in and out. Take 20 steps away from a tuxedo and every one of them looks the same. Thank God I'm a man.

-Go to my office for the first time since February. The familiarity hits me in the lobby when I hear the elevator chime. Have to shake my arms to get the tension out.

-In a surreal move, return to my old desk (unoccupied at the moment), sit down just like I did in the past, open my laptop and go to work. Same guy across the hall from me as before. Same view out the window. The closest thing to time travel I've ever experienced.

-Happy hour out in Old Town Alexandria. From this familiar place to that one. Light Horse does karaoke now on Mondays. Sing "Wicked Game" by Chris Isaak to about five people. One person buys me a drink halfway through the song.

-Walk the quiet streets of Old Town by myself. More than ever before it looks like a movie set. Since returning, I have zero fear in America. Find myself looking over my shoulder constantly out of pure habit. Force my muscle memory to cooperate with my mood, which is at ease. I feel completely safe at every moment. My bag can sit unattended over there. It's okay if that door is unlocked. It's okay to walk past this stranger at night when there's no one else around. Crime is that thing that happens in far off places beyond the curvature of the horizon. It does not happen here.

-Board the Metro late in the evening. I'm the only one in my car. After years of living in DC this has only happened two or three times. The coincidence feels apt. In my 36 hours here, more than anything else, I'm feeling amazed at the sheer luck of it all. The enormous blessing that I used to incorrectly label as "life." The fact that I was born here and not anywhere else. 330 million out of six billion. And I made the cut. The game was over before my first step.

Don't Miss It

Five plus months now separate me from the American life I once lived. There's a ton of stuff I miss and there's also a lot that I surprisingly don't.

Everything listed below are things that at some point I would have told you I could never go without. Now that I'm living without them, I realize how easy they were to let go of.

Cable TV

Let's start with an easy one. Never in the last 50 years has it been this easy to not own a TV. My TV a few months ago was the thing I positioned furniture around. Here in Brazil, it's the thing that we plug my computer into when we want to watch Netflix.

Yes, it's true that when I turn on the few free channels we get, they're all in Portuguese and usually are telenovelas featuring very good looking people crying profusely. Yet, I don't miss my American programming at all. Nothing. The feeling was almost immediate upon moving here.

Want to watch a TV show? It's online. You may have to wait 24 hours to stream it, but that's no different than DVR-ing it. Or you can download it for free in podcast form. Or there's YouTube. The point is, whether it's the movie of the week or the big game, you will find it. I haven't missed anything that I really wanted to see since leaving.

Air Conditioning/Heat

Some full disclosure: While Dani and I have not had any heating or air conditioning since arriving, we likely will buy a portable AC unit before next Summer hits. How quality will that little box be? Probably pretty weak compared to the central cooling I used to swear by.

This was honestly one of my biggest reservations about coming to Brazil. I used to need my room at a constant 72 no matter the season outside. I pictured no AC as an endless sweat session.

That's changed now. The transition was so much easier than I expected. The big surprise was how normal our place feels when the temperature is anywhere between 50-90 degrees outside. Our inside temperature never hits extremes.

I realize that, depending on where one lives, not having heat or AC can be life threatening. I'm not advocating wiping it off the planet. I will have both of these luxuries again in the future. What will be different is how much I use it. My energy footprint has gone from a bulky men's size 15 down to a women's three.

Best part of all? Just like not opening a cable bill each month, I no longer dread seeing our power bill. Dani and I are averaging US $16/month now. 

Open some windows. Get out some blankets. It's a beautiful thing.

A Car

...But only because I'm living in a Manhattan-like area where owning a car is as much a burden as it is a blessing. Still, if you ever find yourself in this kind of environment, I say drop the car. I have no idea what gas costs anymore and that's a good feeling.

Dishwasher

It's really not that bad.

Good 'Ol Southern Cooking

I didn't expect this one. I love southern cooking. Mary's Diner in Danville, VA is my favorite restaurant on earth.

Still, the hole in my heart for this stuff is a fraction of the size of the ones for Mexican, Thai, Five Guys, Ben and Jerry's and others.

It probably helps that I'm in Brazil where rice, beans and collard greens are a staple of the typical dinner plate. I admit that if I was in Shanghai this scenario would probably be different.

Tipping

Funny that as America moves towards a more Social form of healthcare, we still push deep into a Capitalist wasteland with low low wages + tipping. Tip jars are everywhere in America and it's putting a smile on no one's face.

In Brazil, there is no tipping and I don't miss it for one single second. Even if I'm paying 5-20% more, knowing that I don't have to tack on extra cash at the end of a meal or car ride is an honest stress relief.

Also, eliminating tipping really frees up the experience of going out to eat or drink. The expectation of a tip creates an annoying bond between your table and a server. That server becomes your link to the outside world. Ever get a bad server and have to ask another one to intervene? It's like trying to flag down a rescue boat as you swim away from the Titanic.

With no tipping, everyone is in it together. There's no need to rely on one person or worse yet, have to settle up with a person early because their shift is about to end.

I guarantee a happier America overnight when tipping is eliminated.

The Continent

Five months ago this moment I was in the sky making my way down to South America.

Since then, I've been in one city the whole time. Five months. Only São Paulo. It was a relief at first. No flights. No cars. No bags to pack. I got to settle into home.

Lately, though, I've felt something different. An itch. I want to get back out there. This big continent. The bottom of the planet.

It will never be this close or this cheap (in comparison) again.

In my ultra-unscientific opinion, here's the top ten places worth visiting in South America and my thoughts on each.

10. Machu Picchu, Peru 

I rank Machu Picchu at the bottom of the list because I've never really had any interest in going there.  I think my reason is this: Look at the above picture. How many pictures of Machu Picchu have you ever seen that aren't from this exact same angle?

Now, I'm sure you could find some on Google and send them to me. And maybe your friend has some from his trip last year. I don't care. Machu Picchu is like that annoying girl we all know who has to take every photo with her head tilted a certain way. She's convinced it's her best angle.

Added to the trouble is that I've always thought of Machu as being a suburb of Peru's capital city, Lima. Not so. It's no where close to Lima or anything else. That means long rides in the mountains, and in South America that means tightly-packed vans with strangers. Count me out.

Also, there's altitude sickness to cope with and I'm not going to play around with that stuff. I've heard enough horror stories over the years to know it has to be the most disrespected medical condition out there. Thin air + Any exercise and/or one drop of alcohol = Big trouble.

I have to say the thing that most intrigues me about Machu is its recent phenomenon of streakers. It's become such a problem, the Peruvian government has actually had to publicly ask tourists to stop getting naked there. This I would like to see. Something that definitely will not be captured from just one angle.

Verdict: Can almost guarantee I'll never have the chance to take the picture above or streak it.

9. Buenos Aires, Argentina

Argentina is Brazil's Maryland. Or it's my new Maryland, anyway.

If this analogy doesn't make sense to you, replace the word Maryland with your city/state/country's dreaded rival. Or go to Northern Virginia and ask anyone you meet to break it down for you.

Buenos Aires was the toast of the continent a few decades ago. It's since fallen on hard times. Luckily for 99.8% of the world that doesn't live there, this means big savings. Buenos Aires, once you get there, is dirt cheap. I'm talking US $50 per night for a four-star hotel cheap.

I do want to see the Good Airs while I'm in the neighborhood, but it's unlikely I'll go just for the heck of it. Hopefully, I can roll it in as a layover to destinations elsewhere.

Verdict: Ehh.

8. Cartagena, Colombia

Cartagena is one of those places where people say, "You just gotta go! You gotta go!"

The Caribbean is a pretty undeniable force of beauty. And Colombia, with its distanced troubled past, looks like a fun spot to let loose. The colorful Spanish architecture of Cartagena makes everything go down even easier.

Best of all, Cartagena is located--according to my map--exactly at the halfway point between me and you (if you're reading this on the Mid-Atlantic coast).

So, who wants to meet up?

Verdict: Just waiting on you.

7. Santiago, Chile

I don't know a lot about Santiago. It may be an exciting place or a boring one. I rank it here because I'm also lumping in the Andes Mountains.

Chile is one of those amazing places that mixes sea and cliffs. One weekend in Santiago with a rental car means both world-class skiing and some splashing around. I want to see it, baby.

Verdict: Gotta get there before an earthquake surely wipes it from the planet.

6. Iguazu Falls

Iguazu Falls, located on the border of Argentina and Brazil, is hard to be ambivalent about.  Just look at it. How many other vertical bodies of water do people declare as Better Than Niagara Falls? Not many.

But I ask this, after exploring Iguazu Falls, is there a nearby disaster-prone professional football team I can watch? Not exactly a full-fledged vacation now, is it?

Verdict: Go Bills.

5. Fernando de Noronha, Brazil

I had never heard of Fernando de Noronha before I met Dani. When I asked her about honeymoon spots and she mentioned it, my eyes narrowed. Even as she described it, I didn't know what she was talking about.

I Googled the place and within minutes the matter was settled. No other applicants needed.

Now when we tell Brazilians where we're going, their eyes light up and their mouths pucker into a little O. "Oooouuuhhhhh," they say. "Beleza."

Fernando is a seven-square-mile island located several hours off the coast of Brazil just a hair below the Equator. There's very few people or things to see there. The island is a prized environmental jewel that nature desperately wants to keep out of the dirty hands of humans.

The amount of people allowed onto the island at any time is heavily regulated by the government. Its surrounding reefs and aquatic wildlife form a delicate ecosystem. Because of this, humans have to actually pay a fine for every day they're there. Why? Because they're, well, humans.

It's this kind of seclusion that recently won Fernando the ranking of World's Best Beach.

Like a three year old who wants so badly to hold a puppy even though we don't realize how tight our grip is, still we humans try to go there. Dani and I are lucky to get the chance. Fernando isn't cheap to get to when you're in Brazil. From beyond Brazil, outrageous.

We're going to make the most of the opportunity.

Verdict: See you shortly, sweetheart.

4. Easter Island, Chile

Easter Island is right up there with Greenland, Svalbard and Tasmania as places me and probably everyone else never expects to go to. This expert-level Stonehenge is not an easy or cheap trip, even from Chile.

And once you're there, what are supposed to do? I don't know. I mean, is there anything there other than the big heads? Who cares. How insane would it be to strike a pose with these straight-faced characters?

Verdict: Sure would be awesome. Probably won't happen.

3. The Amazon Rainforest

Spend a few minutes reading anything about the Amazon and it's hard not to be fascinated.

For me, the literary exploration was Candice Millard's "The River of Doubt." It tells the story of Theodore Roosevelt's journey up an unmapped Amazon tributary AFTER his presidency.

Millard spends much of the book writing about the unparalleled cross section of nature that is every square foot of the Amazon Rainforest. Her stuff should replace each Earth Science textbook I was assigned growing up that yawned through the subject matter.

The story also completely scared me away from ever setting foot in this jungle. Whether it's the flesh-ripping piranhas, the clouds of eye-sucking flies or that one little critter that loves to burrow--and then balloon up--inside of a man's only non-negotiable, the message was delivered loud and clear: Humans don't belong there.

If there's one argument for anything Green, it's the Amazon. Come on, folks. We've only got one of these.

Verdict: Thanks but no thanks.

2. Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

The way I describe Rio is this: If there were no humans on Earth, and aliens landed here, Rio would be the first place they set up.

The Marvelous City is something every man, woman and child should see. Unlike the above mentioned Machu Picchu, when you're in Rio, the city never looks the same. Depending on the street you're driving/the hotel window you're looking out of/the beach you're laying on, you are seeing something completely different. Something brand new. Something that you have to photograph and share with others.

Rio has 10,000 different poses. Every one of them is a supermodel.

Brazilians have this expression they often lament about their country (and its flaws): "Brazil is the country of the future and it always will be." The same could be said about Rio. If Rio can ever put on the tuxedo its worthy of, it will unquestionably be the greatest city in the world.

Verdict: US $130 roundtrip flights daily.

1. Patagonia

There are few things I've ever wanted to do as badly as I want to go to the bottom of planet, home of Patagonia. I've been looking at it a lot, especially lately.

Like some other places on this list, there's no cheap way to get there, even from here. Worse yet: Kayak loves to play this joke on me where I search dozens and dozens of flights, finally find an itinerary for under US $500, click it, and then it says, "Sorry. This fare is no longer available. The new fare is $5834896298346928349623.

Good one, Kayak.

Patagonia makes me want to do things I can't describe. It makes me want to do whatever that ineffable thing is that we as humans do. Plot. Discover. Lust.

I want to get lost in it. I want to evaporate into it. I want to pull my rental car over, get out, take a picture of Dani with a penguin, steer back onto a road where we've seen no one else for hours, and then just drive at the mountains as hard as I can. As hard as a car can go. As hard as the world will allow.

Verdict: Kayak, please, just this once.