Adventures of a Gringa in Rio

trauma on the subway (strong language warning)

When I came home, I had this premonition that due to a karmic twist of fate, something bad was going to happen to me, since thankfully, nothing happened to me in Rio. All week I've been cooking up ideas for a post about my raging love affair with Manhattan, how absolutely at home I feel already and how much I just want to stay forever. That was until this afternoon at 5pm.

I left work a bit early today, and the subway was completely packed. But I decided to hop on the first train that came, squishing myself in just as the doors were closing. I was towards the middle, in between the two sets of doors, holding the ceiling for dear life so I wouldn't go flying. A tiny Mexican man was standing in front of me, and behind him, leaning against the doors, were two Middle Eastern or East Asian men. One had odd scars around his nose and face, and he was listening to music. The other one was wearing sunglasses and an exercise band on his arm.

The guy with the scars started whispering to the other guy in a low voice in a language I couldn't identify, and I had the distinct impression they were talking about me. The guy kept eying some point on the floor, and he would smirk and whisper to the guy again. I started to get really annoyed, since it became very clear the guy was talking about me. I kept looking at the point on the floor that was making him sneer, but I didn't see anything. Then, for some reason, I got it into my head that they were speaking Arabic and that they were terrorists (especially after reading The Garden of Last Days) and that I was at the exact wrong place at the exact wrong time. I convinced myself they were about to do something, and when they both reached for their pockets as the doors opened on 42nd Street, everything slowed down and went quiet, and I said a silent prayer that they weren't going to blow us all up.

So you can imagine my complete shock when the guy with the sunglasses spun on his heel towards me, flipped open an NYPD badge, and said, "Follow me." At this point, I still thought it had something to do with terrorism, and irrationally thought he was mad at me for looking at them suspiciously. He led me away from the train and said, and I quote:

"How old are you?"
"Twenty three."
"Are you aware that the man in front of you had an erection and was rubbing up against you?"

At this point my heart stopped and the blood drained from my face.

"What?"
"The man was erect and was touching himself against you."

That awful word seemed to echo in my head. In shock, I replied, "No, because if I had noticed I obviously would have moved."

"So you didn't feel anything? You didn't notice?"
"No, no I definitely didn't." The way he was asking, I got the impression he thought I had noticed and hadn't done anything about it. My heart quickened again.

"We're probably going to arrest this guy, so do you want to come down to the station and give a statement?"
"No, I really didn't notice anything and I really don't have time. Thank you for looking out, though."

With a weak smile and I do believe, horribly, a thumbs up, I turned and got the hell out of there.

I was in such shell shock that I barely noticed how I found my train, and felt like electricity was running through my body the whole ride home. I told my parents what happened. My dad was like, "Hmm. Yeah. I'm sorry that happened. This apparently has been happening a lot lately. I read about it." My mom instantly waved it off. "Oh those weren't policemen, I'm sure they were just con artists trying to harass you. It's a good thing you didn't follow them."

So at this point I believed my mom, and I couldn't decide if her version was better or worse. To set things straight, I decided to call the police. Below is our conversation:

"Can I ask you about an incident? Do you send undercover officers on the subway?"
"Yes, all the time, for all sorts of things, like sting operations and such. You name it."
"Sooo...[insert story here]. Those men were police then?"
"Were their clothes bulky? They usually wear bullet proof vests underneath. Were they wearing untucked button down shirts? Was one of them wearing an armband?"

I couldn't remember about the first two, but I definitely remembered the odd exercise band on the man's arm. 

"That's how we identify our undercover police," she told me. "We identify them by color. In an emergency, we'd be able to know who our guys are and who aren't."

"Oh. So then that guy really was harassing me."

"Oh yes ma'am, this has been happening a lot lately. It's a serious problem, and that's why we've been sending our guys out. You wouldn't believe the stuff we see! Pardon my language, but men are masturbating on the subway all the time now. Some are even cutting out the pockets from their pants to hide it better. Do you know Rockefeller Center, when they put the Christmas tree up? We caught a ton of men there masturbating. It's usually foreigners, like from the Syria, Pakistan, you know, the Middle East. Yup, it happens all the time."

After the woman had sufficiently traumatized me for the second time today, I asked weakly, "Well, why couldn't they have just told me what was going on, instead of just watching it happen?" I'd been asking myself the question hundreds of times after my mind cleared, somewhere in Harlem.

She explained that they have to witness certain things and they have their procedures for probable cause or whatever the hell it is, so that they have to watch before they can do anything. I thanked her for her help and hung up.

So I have a message for the NYPD:
I really admire you and all the work you have done to make our city safe, especially after 9/11. I really do. But I don't give a fuck about probable cause, so the next time you see a pervert harassing a clueless woman on the subway, TELL her right away and get the fucking sicko, or you're just as guilty as he is.

again?!

You may recall that awhile back I posted a story about a US immigration officer who raped a boy in Rio, though I never did hear about his sentence. So here is the latest involving the absolutely outstanding US Foreign Service in Brazil. I think you will agree with me that the best punishment for this man would be castration.

From the Associated Press, by Matthew Barakat, July 10, 2008:

"ALEXANDRIA, Va. (AP) — An ex-diplomat convicted of having sex with teenage girls in the Congo and Brazil and taping the encounters is asking a judge for leniency, claiming that cultural differences in those countries make sex with girls more acceptable.

Gons G. Nachman, 42, pleaded guilty in April to possessing child pornography after admitting that he had sex with 14- to 17-year-old girls while serving as a consular officer in Brazil and Congo and documenting the encounters in pictures and videos.

The judge has agreed to delay Nachman's sentencing until Aug. 22 so that he can be examined by noted forensic psychologist Stanton Samenow. Defense attorney Stephen Stine said in court papers that a psychological examination might show that cultural differences led Nachman to believe that sexual contact with teenage girls was acceptable, and that should have an impact on what kind of sentence he receives.

Prosecutors rejected the notion that Nachman's victims somehow deserve less protection because they were not born or raised in America.

"Children in the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Brazil have the same inherent value as children in the United States," prosecutor Ron Walutes wrote in court papers.

Prosecutors are asking for a 20-year prison term, the maximum he could receive under the law and much higher than the term of nine to 11 years called for under federal sentencing guidelines.

In a letter Nachman wrote from jail to the director of the Foreign Service pleading with him to intervene and get the charges dropped, Nachman explained the cultural differences as he sees them.

"In the Congo, women develop quickly, both physically and emotionally, due to the substantial responsibility society places on them from early childhood," Nachman wrote. "In Kinshasa, the vast majority of teenagers are sexually active with men that are substantially older. ... Their main concern is marrying young girls to men with financial stability, a concern dating thousands of years and cutting across cultural lines."

The case has been unusual on several fronts. It includes allegations that Nachman pressured attractive female visa applicants in Brazil for sex. Nachman admitted that he had sex with two women whom he met in the visa application process, but he denied coercing them and he was never charged in the matter."

hallucinations

Today I was innocently reading over the shoulder of the man next to me on the train, and I was listening to Brazilian music on my Ipod, still in disbelief that I had become a commuter again. I thought I was hallucinating with saudades when I saw a group of Baianas dancing in a photograph in the man's New York Times, but I looked closer and realized I was not imagining it:

"A group of Brazilians gathered on West 46th Street in Manhattan on Wednesday to hold a kickoff celebration for a festival called Lavagem, a spiritual cleansing that dates to the 18th century. The event was the preview of the main ceremony which is scheduled for Aug. 30 in conjunction with Brazilian Day."

It made me smile.

Weeping parrot

When we went to the zoo, we came across this parrot. Out of nowhere, he started sobbing like a baby. We sat around watching him, and while we were watching a toddler fell down and started to cry. I guess the parrot hears a lot of crying babies, because he has got it down pat. It's kind of creepy.

it's monday, but fear not

Three things to keep your Monday interesting:

1. Answering the Rio Real Estate quiz, the three bedroom, turn-of-the-century small mansion in Botafogo is going for R$1.2 million, about US$736,000. On this note, the dollar is at 1.63 reais as I write this. I'm trying not to cry.

2. If you need a laugh, go to this article about a parade for dogs in Ipanema. The catch? Their owners had to dress them up like brides and grooms. Click on the "Veja galeria de fotos" to see the ridiculousness.

3. Indiana Jones comes out in just three days, but I will be seeing it in two because there's a "pre-estreia" in Rio!

stalkage

I love stalking my Feedjit map to see where all my readers come from. It just tickles me to think people in Morocco, South Korea, Armenia, the Netherlands Antilles, and Saudi Arabia all accessed my blog in one day! It is weird, though, that today someone accessed it from the same city in India where there was a terrible bombing (Jaipur). Weird. I also know some of the people who are reading it, like my friend in Ecuador, a fellow gringa in Mozambique, and a guy who always reads my blog from Venezuela (who are you guy?! Sign my guestbook. Speak Spanish to me! I'm in serious Spanish withdrawl).

Now if you will excuse me from stalking you all, I have to go stalk the novela on my street.

saudade for RD

The weather in Rio could not be more glorious than it has been for the past few days: clear blue skies, high 70s, an occasional breeze...I'm less jealous of you people up in spring right now.

Anyway, two things that made me miss the DR today:

• a hilarious blog, that makes fun of Stuff White People Like, called Stuff Dominicans Like. So true, and so good.
• Globo has a video on the Rio news page showing a guy on a motorcycle carrying two women and an infant, and a whole accompanying story. The gist of it is saying how illegal and irresponsible it is to carry a baby on a motorcycle, as well as overload a motorcycle with people. In the DR, this is a scene you see all the time, in the cities and in the countryside. Sigh.

Earthquake!!!!!!!! (?)

Last night, an earthquake of 5.2 on the Richter scale hit Sao Paulo, and was also felt in Rio state, Santa Catarina, and Parana. The epicenter was in the ocean off the coast of Sao Paulo state, and was the sixth-largest earthquake in Brazilian history. In Sao Paulo, people felt it the most, with glasses breaking, walls cracking, pipes bursting, and in a really creepy traffic video, you could see the whole highway shake for ten seconds. Apparently this is normal due to shifts in the tectonic crusts. Freaky. I did not in fact feel the quake.

In other news, the state of Rio Grande do Norte is totally flooded due to heavy rains, which is unusual for the month of April. Yay for global warming.

a snippet from last night: the New Yorker

Scene: upscale club in Leblon.
Time: 1:30am
Scenario: drunken gay New Yorker has just hit on Eli's straight friend and has moved on to us.

Guy: You're from New York??!
Me: Yes, I grew up in Westchester.
Guy: Oh MAN that is so WEIRD! I'm from New York TOO!
Me: Uh huh!
Guy: squints at me through saucer plate pupils - You must be Jewish.
Me: How'd you know??
Guy: I'm from New York. I know these things.
Me: Ah.
Guy: So you live here? makes small talk yadayada
Me: politely answers small talk yadayada
Guy: Your parents must have been THRILLED when you moved all the way to Brazil to be with a Brazilian guy who didn't speak English!
Me: Not correcting him - Yeah well they've gotten used to it.
Guy: yadayadayadayadayada
Me: [........]
Guy, directing himself to Eli: So let me get this straight: a nice Jewish girl from Westchester moved to Brazil to live with you. [Insert extremely inappropriate comment/supposition here]

Eli's eyes light up and he nods furiously, laughing and slapping the guy's back, while I bury my face in my hands, ashamed of my own people, the New Yorkers.

Wtf Wednesday

Odd things I've seen today:

--lemons at Hortifruti (I've never seen a lemon in Brazil). They were labeled "limoes sicilianos" or Sicilian limes. They were expensive.

--men playing dominos on a corner in Botafogo. Loitering men: not a novelty. Dominos, what I thought to be a predominantly Caribbean pastime: a little odd.

--an American-style Volvo with a square-shaped hatchback. I've never seen one here before.

--TWO arrests in one day at the delegacia: one guy in a sweatsuit, getting taken in, and a couple, a guy with a scalp that looked like someone or something had pulled out about a dozen tufts of hair all over his head, awkwardly handcuffed to a woman in a skirt looking totally bewildered, being taken from the station to a cop car with two civilian cops, one with a very very large machine gun.

--My roommate actually doing some housework after I asked him but once!

--on Feedburner, new visitors to my website from Algeria, Dubai, and Malaysia; many visitors getting to my website via my Gay Pride Parade post. A good number of the people accessing the Gay Pride post are  come from the Middle East and Muslim countries in South Asia.

currently in my apartment

• one Siamese fighting fish named Spanish Mike
• a plant that not only I haven't managed to kill, but is growing at a freakish mutant rate
• three laptops
• two illegal immigrants (including me)
• one Swedish chef cooking us dinner
• "The Biggest Loser" on TV
• a cool breeze
• so many books it's practically a library
• an open Facebook picture album I can't say I'm proud of

Memo to God

TO: God
FROM: Rio Gringa
RE: High school

I'd just like to remind you how grateful I am that I am no longer in high school, and never will be again, despite an occasional nightmare once in a while that for one reason or another I have to go back.

I guess this could happen anywhere, but I get the impression that American high school girls are the most brutal, heartless bitches of high school girls anywhere. (Thoughts, brasileiros?)

Anyway. Thanks again. I'd rather be a poor twenty-something than a pampered, miserable 16 year-old.

K thanks bye.

for your consideration

This photo features items found after a police raid in a favela in a Rio suburb this week.

Small Small Small World

Ilha Grande is in fact, a very large island. It's 193 square kilometers, with various settlements that have tourist accommodations.

I'm really good at remembering faces, but not names. I can pick a face out of a crowd and remember everything about that person, whether we were friends or even if we only met briefly. But just sometimes, I remember a name and a face, instantly.

Yesterday, we were sitting on the dock in the teeny tiny beach town in Ilha Grande, waiting for the slightly crazy captain to get his boat running so we could get back to the mainland. We were chatting with this pompous Argentine man and peering over the side of the dock at the swarms of fish, and I was congratulating myself for managing to have a conversation in Spanish without sounding like a mental patient.

We sat down. We stood up. The captain was completely MIA. So we waited, and waited some more. Then two women and a little girl arrived with their luggage, also waiting for the crazy captain.

I absently stared at the newcomers, and I squinted at one of the women. She looked SO familiar, but it didn't seem humanly possible that I could run into anyone I knew in such an isolated place. So I stared. She stared back. I noticed she was with a little girl. I did some calculations. And I noticed she was speaking Spanish to one of the other women.  And I stared some more.

After sufficient staring, the woman took the little girl back down to the beach. I stopped her and asked her in Spanish, "Are you V*?"

She said "Yes! I knew I recognized you!"

And lo and behold, it was V.

V. works at the exchange program office in Buenos Aires where I studied for six months, and we were friendly, since the staff at the office contained the few portenos I could actually stand, and in fact really liked. She was on vacation with her little girl, on the exact same beach we were and was leaving on the same day at the exact same time we were.

We chatted a little, and took the same rusty, leaky fishing boat back to the mainland, where we said goodbye, and I marveled at what an incredibly odd place the world is.