Meanwhile in Transylvania...

Peter & Anca are getting married. It's 22h30 in Romania now, so I bet they are married already and everybody is drunk! hehehe

How lucky they are to live in Romania. London is raining non-stop for at least two weeks!!! At least the temperature went up to 20°C, so it is not cold.

The Chocolate Society

Marco invited me to this Chocoholic meet up. It was in a place called The Chocolate Society. I genuinely thought it was an official Society, like an exclusive club. It is more like a store that, yeah, have some membership program. But it is open to the general public who is willing to eat very good chocolate and pay the price.

Very cute place in a posh neighborhood. I do love chocolate, but I am not an expert. In fact, chocolate experts would say I don’t even like chocolate that much, because I love the milky ones, too sweet for their taste. There I was, surrounded by chocolate lovers, listening to their stories and future plans for meetings and choco-activities. The store smells very nice – like cocoa, do you know what I mean? I have a “normal” hot chocolate and shared a brownie and ice cream with Marco. Everything was very good. A bit pricy, so it is not something that could become a habit (although I have hot chocolate everyday, I couldn’t afford £ 3.99 everyday, even being the best hot chocolate in the world).

I will confess that I am not much of a fan of clubs, societies, groups, etc. I have being labeled, or being part of something. Maybe because I enjoy too many things and to choose one or two groups would be hard or maybe because I don’t enjoy anything that much that would make me want to go always with the same group, etc. This group was formed by 9 or 10 chocolate fans – the organizer was expecting 16 – and the people were quite different from one another, except that all of us (yes, me included) share not only the passion about chocolate, but also have at least a fatty belly – even the slim ones. One thing I’ve also noticed is that some of the women had bad skin. Oh-oh.

The best part – believe me or not – wasn’t the chocolate though! It was listening to the stories, in special of a funny bald guy. A photographer, if I’m not mistaken, but I don’t know his name. He had so many funny stories that it made me think if they were all true. One of the funniest of the day was when he was telling about his saga to buy a mask for the 10th anniversary of The Phantom of the Opera. He was invited at the last minute, so not much time to buy one. His solution was to buy a burka in a Muslim store. He had to say it was for his sister, who has been converted; otherwise nobody would sell him one. He managed to get one, wear it – as he said, it was like a negative: he was supposed to wear a mask, but in the end the only thing not covered were his eyes! – and go home with it. It was interesting to hear he saying that it was a good experience, because the ‘dress’ protected him from the outside world. Nobody would know what was under it; nobody could judge ‘his’ clothes, shoes, or hair style. On the other hand, ‘he’ was free to judge everybody else. Maybe this is why Muslim women don’t look that unhappy wearing that black sheet.

He paid £ 20.00 for the clothes. Maybe we all should try once! :-P

A little help for my friends

Things I think in the train: I don't have that many friends with kids. I'm 30, so this means that either my friends are TOO young or people are having kids when they are too old. According to Salma Hayek, this is true. She is 40 and pregnant of her first child. Independent women, they think first on their careers, financial stability and then in raising a family.

I am a bit like this too – but just because I am too scared of having kids, otherwise the first one would have come when I was 18. I always wanted to have kids when I was young, so I could enjoy them more and be a young grandmother.

And today, because the world is such a harsh place to live in, because of unemployment, low salaries, blah blah blah, couples are always waiting for the right moment. There is no such thing: the right moment is when you want.

So, I am starting a campaign to get all my friends pregnant. I want to be an aunt! :) I do have some friends that did their part, and I am posting their sweet little artwork to inspire you all!

The first baby is Sophia, my friend Karla's little princess. She is almost 6 month old now. They both live in Rio/Brazil and I just met Sophia in her mom's tummy. The second one is Isaac, my friend Inês' big boy. I'm not so sure, but I think he has just turned 1 year old (or two?). Inês was one of those people that said: the moment is now! They both live in Boston (or somewhere close)/US. I haven't met him either. It's a good excuse to visit NY soon.

As for myself, mine is already ordered. For 2012.

New bookmarked sites

I found this super cool website of proverbs in Portuguese: Como a Vovó dizia. I L-O-V-E proverbs!! I will translate one a day (I wish) to share with my non-Portuguese speaking friends. :-D I really mean translate, and not find an equivalent in English (although some might have, as you can see on the Tecla SAP).

Here is the first one:

Pobre só acha a vida doce quando está chupando pirulito.
Poor people only think life is sweet when having a lollypop.

(hahahaha Brazilians: do you remember Joelmir Betting and his "to think while in the queue"?)

My guardian angel is a star (*)

I don’t remember feeling sick due lack of sleep before. Probably I did, but I don’t recall the feeling. Today was one of these days and it doesn’t feel good.

I decided to walk from work (near Tottenham Court Road Station) to Charing Cross train station. I decided to take a different path. I got lost, but it wasn’t my decision. I could feel my brain moving in a different pace, the world turning, people getting blurred. I had this horrible urge to throw up – the stomach was a bit empty, which it proved to be good.

I manage to arrive at the train station painfully, but I couldn’t help stopping for 3 minutes at Trafalgar Square. There was a Canada Day thingy happening there, a few blocks away from where the car bomb was discovered. Oh well, who wants to blow the Canadians anyway – they are nice folks and have the best accent out of all native English spoken people.

I was fighting against the dizziness and trying to go as fast as I could before I faint there and ruin the Canadian party. Being the centre of attention is not something I really enjoy.

I manage to get home safe and sound, I did have time to spend 5 minutes online and drink a glass of milk before fainting completely for many hours. It wasn’t merely sleep; I’m sure my soul left my body for a while. It wasn’t a “good night of sleep”, not pleasant at all. After many hours, I received a text message from Mariana, I read it but when I tried to reply it I couldn’t type. The words would like this ‘dormjdho, cansdjiea, num sei oendm to’ (sleoeing, taeired, weeer m i). I’m glad I didn’t send. Hehe By the way, I didn’t reply after I woke up because it’s a bit too late now and I am against texting – or calling – people after 10 pm.

I’m alive, still tired, sleepy, and hungry, but I guess I’m alright now.

*********

(*) I don't know about you, but I'm a bit annoyed about the expression "you're a star!" people use here. I always feel like answering "I am indeed".

Just to make it clear

The post below does not intent to scare potential tourists or defame my country. I'm not pointing fingers, although we know that authorities don't work that hard to clean the image of the State. Brazil - as almost all "Third World" country - was raped and robbed by the countries that came here of its gold and natural resources. It is until now. Unfortunately we have to take off our shorts for some Nations, and people like me and you are too powerless to change anything. There are good people trying to change this sad picture, but it is not enough.

Brazil is like a cheap, but gorgeous whore, everybody wants to fuck, but no one wants to pay the price.

Let it be, alligator, the lagoon will drain and our time will come. We are still the country of the future. Brazilians and Chinese will rule the world!

A little bit of History

It is interesting to see the gringos surprised when they find a Brazilian who doesn't want to go back to Brazil - especially if this Brazilian comes from Rio, one of the most beautiful (and contradictory) places on Earth. Well, my friends, I am one of those Brazilians.

Although I’ve never found myself in the middle of the chaos involving policemen and drug dealers – two of the most feared groups in the country – knowing that Rio suffers of such problems makes me deeply sad. Such a waste of beauty and potential happiness.

The Complexo do Alemão was in the international media this week as part of another chapter of our own little civil war. Not gonna talk about that though; it’s a boring sad story – I hope all the bad guys burn in hell, and by hell I mean somewhere ugly in the world – here and now. I want to write a little bit about Complexo do Alemão.


I was searching the origin of the name: it means literally The German’s complex – German being a guy. One of the things I love about being Brazilian is that we name (or nickname) everything, and in a funny way. According to the website Raizes em Movimento, the place got its name after Leonard Kaczmarkiewicz, a Polish that established himself in the area after the First World War and bought and sold land in what is known today as Morro do Alemão – German’s Hill. Because of his funny name – I doubt that anybody could even pronounce it - and his looks, Mr. Kaczmarkiewicz was called Alemão - German.

The place is formed by thirteen favelas (or shantytown or slums or communities – the politically correct term). The area is 437.880 m² wide and the highest spot is 138 m height. It was transformed in a neighborhood in 1993 and I read somewhere that there are around 65,000 souls surving there.

If we go back a couple of centuries, we learn that the place had a important role in the exploitation of coffee and sugar, and during the golden era (meaning literally the time that our gold was stolen and taken to Portugal). To say that progress brought benefits to the country – or more specifically to Rio de Janeiro – is very relative. My personal view says it damaged the city. Just look at the old pictures or read Machado de Assis books. I wish I was born at that time. But again, oppinion is like the asshole: everybody has one and one holds it dear.

Just to shock our international readers a little bit. Some years ago, a journalist was kidnapped, tortured and murdered by drug dealers after running a TV story on traffic and consume of drugs, and sexual exploitation of children in the area. The guys were so cruel that they burned him alive, cut him to pieces and buried him somewhere there.

Oh gosh...

When I was on my way to work this morning, I heard the speakers in the tube stations announcing that Piccadilly Circus Station was closed "due to an incident in the area". Usually I ignore these announcements, because British are so cautious that they close tube stations if you have a small pond after a heavy rain - especially when in other parts of the country 3 people died because of the flood. I remember when all the trains were delayed or cancelled because of the snow. Less than 0.5 cm of snow! Not to mention the advices of "stay at home". Whatever.

So, here is the reason why Piccadilly Circus was closed this morning:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/6252276.stm

"A car bomb planted in central London would have caused "carnage" if it had exploded, police sources have said."

Just a quick observation: this area is where I go to the cinema almost every week. We were there last Wednesday.

Maggie - Lili's sister - is leaving London today. During her two weeks here the temperatures dropped from 20-something degrees to 10°C, the heavy rain flooded the whole country, the rain wouldn't stop in London, and now this! Thank God her last week was so good that there is no way she will hate the city! But I think she should go to Northeastern desert in Brazil next time, to help with the droughts. She is the personification of the Dance of the Rain. People who know about her trips to Rio will understand.

By the way, I am fine. Alive and kicking. And stupidly sleepy. Amen.

The plans for the weekend? Go for a coffee after work, sleep early. Go to The Chocolate Society tomorrow and sleep early. Sleep deeply on Sunday.

I can't believe that it is summer already and the temperatures are between 10° and 18°C!!!!!! Is it going to be like tis: 6 months of European winter and 6 months of Brazilian winter?!?!??! Nhé!

Cipri went to Romania today. Poor thingy left the house 3.30 am. He was very stressed because of a possible strick of traffic controllers in Rome (don't ask why he went to Romania via Rome, please), but in the end this was the least of his problems. He will need to have a bath with sea salt. Although coming back to Earth would help a lot; he is soooo head on the clouds (huh?)!

My birthday was super duper cool! :-P Londoners, envy us: it was a bit sunny in Brighton, and we even got sun burned (well, I got tanned, Cipri became a lobster!). No pictures because I forgot my camera, but I will ave very nice videos. I just need to find some extra time to edit them. Nhé!

I need holidays... again!

I was all happy happy joy joy because I turned 30 but I feel like 22 when I realized that I can barely walk up the stairs between platforms 3 and 6 in London Bridge, I complain about back and knee pains, I feel very sleepy at 8 pm (not to mention stupidly tired), but I wake up at 5 am! Tell me, isn't this the typical behaviour of your grandmother??

I'm going to bed at 10 pm today. Tonight.

I like crazy people

This one seems quite normal to me: http://chineseoranges.blogspot.com/. Check Suzanne's profile.

Sometimes I think I'm crazy to read these things... or maybe I'm just too bored with life outside.

Hmmm, that comment sounds a bit depressing. Well, it's not. I've done my nails and they look nice, so I'm happy despite the rest.

Be honest...

when you are asked what do you want for your life, do you give those generic answers "I want to be happy" or do you really know what do you want? Something like: I want a three bedroom house, with a back garden, work to that company, as a whatever position, earning Y amount per month/year, etc, etc, etc.

I thought I knew what I wanted, but the truth is: I change my mind all the time.

But just between you and me: being happy is not a wish; it is an obligation.

Drops

I gave up the high heels and adopted the suit-and-trainers style. This is quite common in huge cities such as New York and London. The very first time I saw a woman wearing tailler and tennis shoes was in New York, and I was afraid it was the new fashion. So ugly! I was lucky that in Brazil I could go to work wearing jeans and trainers. That "having to wear those formal clothes and high heels" was a kind of... test drive to hell. My poor feet are covered in bruises, blisters and scars. So I decided to adopt the look bellow in name of comfort. Of course I change shoes when I get to the office.

Last week I saw Pirates of the Caribbean 3. Better than the second one and still a nice adventure movie. I enjoy these films, as they are nothing more than pure entertainment. And most of them don't aim nothing more than that. There is something about Pirates... though that enerves me. Although Johnny Depp, the most perfect-weird-gorgeous-wrong-wounderful living creature in the universe is there, although Orlando Bloom is also around, there is this presence that annoys and spoils everthing. Keira Knightley is not only a bad actress, but she is also negatively weird. She is too skinny, she has ugly teeth and smile, she has some problem with her mouth. She is probably daughter of someone very important in the film industry. I wonder if Mari can make one of those voodoo dolls so she can feel all the pain I felt having to watch her for almost 3 hours!

Yeap: new job. This is my boss....

... and those are my colleagues.
Nice place, interesting job, learning a lot, might even have some fun in the end, but if I stay longer, I might have to ask for a raise.

Sad, but true

Received this one from Roberto and I decided to share with the worlld (or "my" world).

**************

A man in a hot air balloon realised he was lost.He reduced altitude and spotted a man below. He descended a bit more and shouted, "Excuse me, can you help me? I promised a friend I would meet him an hour ago, but I don't know where I am."

The man below replied, "You're in a hot air balloon hoveringapproximately 30 feet above the ground.You're between 40 and 41 degrees north latitude and between 59 and 60degrees west longitude."

"You must be in IT," said the balloonist.

"I am," replied the man, "How did you know?"

"Well," answered the balloonist, "everything you told me istechnically correct,but I've no idea what to make of your information and the fact is I'mstill lost. Frankly, you've not been much help at all. If anything, you've delayed my trip."

The man below responded, "You must be in Management."

"I am," replied the balloonist, "but how did you know?"

"Well," said the man, "you don't know where you are or where you're going.You have risen to where you are due to a large quantity of hot air.You made a promise, which you've no idea how to keep,and you expect people beneath you to solve your problems.The fact is you are in exactly the same position you were in before we met, but now, somehow, it's my fucking fault."

New Year, new job

* Tomorrow I start in a new job. My brain is not sure if it enjoys or hates changing jobs all the time. At least I never get bored.

* I've decided to divide my year in two: from January to June and from July to December. Two years, just one birthday. This means that I will turn 15 in a few days.

* I went to an interview today and looking at my typing test, the lady said: "Wow, you type quite fast! Did you take classes?". My prompt answer: "No, many years of online relationships, I'm a pro already".

* By the way, it's not true. That I am a pro in online relatioships. I don't type fast either.

* Waking up at 7h30 am + bad night of sleep + walking under the sun of London + eating + cozy home = Christina very very sleepy.

* Christina very very sleepy + blog = non sense.

* Hey! I quit gym! Sad, but true.

I'm hungry, as usual

* I stopped by the supermarket to buy some food (anything, in fact, no food in the fridge). My stock of pasta is renewed.

* Sainsbury's gave me a little box of chocolates for my birthday. Oooooohmmm, they love me! :-)



* I wonder if people who love me too much will ever give me this as a birthday present: http://www.thorntons.co.uk/ThorntonsSite/cm/chocoholicweekend.htm. (It could be a "I love you so much" present too).

* I feel so loved: my mobile doesn't stop ringing! :-)

* I'm so starving that I couldn't wait for the food to cool and burned my tongue; well-done, now I won't feel any taste for a couple of days.

Garfield syndrome

I think everybody hates Mondays. Even God. Just look at this shitty day! For our own sake, we shouldn’t book any important appointment on a Monday. No matter how good your weekend was, no matter how rested you are, how sunny it is (not the case today though), how happy, with money, in love… everything goes wrong or doesn’t go as good as it could be.

This was supposed to be one of those Hardy Har Har posts. I have an important appointment today and I was feeling scared and anxious, as if it was the great moment/opportunity of my life and my whole future depended on that. Well, it doesn’t.

Funny enough, Mondays also save some good surprises. I’m still digesting the news.

Women are weird

To increase the risks of “shit happens” of a cloudy Monday, I decided to wax today. Yes, today. Not tomorrow. And it is not like I don’t have anything more important to do. So there I go to the bathroom with the hot wax (I said hot, right?) to wax my armpits.

Right when I am full of sticky wax under my arms, not being able to move, my mobile decides to ring. “Damn, Monday”. The thing is: I have to answer my calls. So there I went, both arms raised, running to answer the phone before the answering machine gets it. Trying to sound as natural as possible, I manage to talk for three minutes. Honestly I didn’t understand much, but when the person says “so, I am e-mailing you the details”, I relax and don’t care. The e-mail was giving the good news I mention on the previous post (still digesting).

Bless the sun!

I was walking - or fighting to move forward - in Oxford Street a while ago when I spotted an Argos store window full of summer promotions. A camping tent for just 99 pounds. Ok, it was a tent for ten people. By why would I want a tent for 10 people? Hmmm, second thought. I like space and it would be good to have a living room just in case it rains and you have to be indoors.

*******

I was walking - or fighting to move forward - in Oxford Street a while ago when I heard a guy saying to another "Vamos massacrar", "nao, vamu massacra", "isso, vamu massacra, veri gudi". Mas hein, Bin Laden tah recrutando?

*******

I was walking - or fighting to move forward - in Oxford Street a while ago when I passed by the Brazilian Embassy (which is NOT in Oxford Street by the way) and saw a bunch of people wearing the Brazilian football t-shirt. "A protest? On a Friday? Nah, we don't do that on Fridays", I thought. Then the light: today is Brazil x England game!!!

*******

I was walking - or fighting to move forward - in Oxford Street a while ago and I was thinking why I wasn't goiong to the game, and instead, I was going to a Gypsy show. Oh, yeah, the tickets cost 45 quid each. 45 pounds is quite a lot of money to see a friendly game that our team might even lose. Makes sense.

*******

I was walking - or fighting to move forward - in Oxford Street a while ago when I decided I want to write a book. What would it be about? A biography? Hmmm, I didn't come up from nowhere, I didn't have a hell of a life, I wasn't spancked by my parents, raped, or kidnapped. I wasn't "that" close to death to tell my experience in the tunnel of light. I didn't work as a volunteer in some country Africa devasted by civil war and had to fight for my life at the same time I was trying to save starving children. I'm not dating a famous football player. I'm not a famous singer. No, my life can be pretty plain and boring comparing to that. Should I try to come up with a fiction story? Inspiration, inspiration.

Would somebody buy a book about trying to write a book?

********

I was walking - or fighting to move forward - in Oxford Street a while ago when I felt my armpits sweating. Damn deodorant; it was supposed to be anti-perspirant!