The beauty and the ugliness are an equal draw...

I have lived in New York since my college days, and though I come from Texas, and country beginnings, I thrive on the energy of NYC.  Brazil has that same energy, the big city kind, and yet it also has forest and beach, and mountains.  Something both places share is a disparity between classes.  I believe the negative aspects of Brazil, the poverty, the sexism and the corruption are part of what makes Brazil "cook"; just like NYC.  In Brazil, the negative is offset by the spontaneity and warmth of the people. 

I can think of no better experience from Brazil to explain the mix of negative and positive, than relating my experience walking up to the "Christ the Redeemer" statue in Rio de Janeiro.  Why hike up 12 miles to a popular tourist site that had both cable cars and taxis to reach it?  Because the day before I went, a taxi driver half convinced me with his 12 words of English that the hike was just a little over 5 miles.  My ego backed by my frequent stints of 5 mile  jogs on the treadmill in gyms across America further convinced me that I was up to the task of hiking to the top. 

Approximately 8 miles in, I realized that I'd taken on more than I could handle. I found myself walking along the edge of a poor neighborhood and thrust into the theater of a chicken, a disheveled man and a half naked baby around 2 years old.  First I observed the chicken running after the child, a boy, pecking very close to its chubby legs,  and then I realized that the man was watching me very closely from a slab of concrete that filled in as the porch of his home.  Something about the way the building was leaning quite precariously against the next, made the word favela come to mind.  The man starred, and I became uncomfortable, but then we both turned as we heard the chicken clucking loudly; the child was now chasing it and attempting to grab its tail feathers.  No longer threatening the father looked on proudly and smiled, just a a laugh came from my mouth, and no further communication was needed. 

I kept walking energized by the contact, but 10 miles in the encounter and the beauty of the rain forest surrounding me, were no longer enough to sustain me, and the tea and the raisins, and nuts that I'd brought along were finished.  At this point, a taxi driver stopped offering to take me the rest of the way for free, because I looked so tired.  In the end, he did ask for payment, a kiss on the cheek, and in less than two minutes I was at the statue.  I was sooo tired that after wringing out my t-shirt and and buttoning my jacket to act as a shirt, I barely took five pictures of this huge Christ statue.  However, what I lack in pictures, I am rich in memories, of the way I felt, changing from being threatened by the man's stare to sharing in his joy and pride over his son's hutzpah.  Who knew my most beautiful memory of the Christ the Redeemer journey would be a father's pride.

What's His Name?

It's funny, when I tell people I've been to Brazil over 12 times, for many people the next question is "What's his name?"  Though there are many men who travel to Brazil just for the women, and come back with multiple girlfriends, or even a wife.  I have never had a boyfriend in Brazil, and that's not why I go... 

One of the reasons I enjoy my visits is the music, there's nothing like going to a Samba club, and having what begins as a theatre style Samba music performance by a live band turn into a club wide party with smiles, appreciation, joy and over-all breaking down of barriers.  It's most similar to an old school, jazz jam in the Village in New York with musicians joining in, or a freestyle rap cypher, or a drum circle in a park. 

...or a political rally (they almost always include a band and drinks after the politicians speak) on the beach in Salvador, Brazil where the audience is one big gyrating mass.  You forget that you don't know the dances and you feel comfortable joining in because no one is judging you.

The last example I'll give here that is especially unique to Brazil, is a Friday night party in Lapa.  Lapa is a neighborhood in Brazil famous for its nightlife and landmarks, particularly Carioca Aqueduct, also know as Arcos da Lapa (An aqueduct constructed in the mid-18th century).  It is near these arches that a cluster of clubs is surrounded every Friday night by food and drink vendors, and Samba bands that play out in the street.  Some nights the parties spill out of the "clubs" that are basically brazilian hip-hop jams, with only a beer/wine licquor bar inside, and restrooms, and speakers facing the streets.  Brazilian street parties are an equal mixture house party, and block party, which is includes street people, and tourist and Carioca all dancing together.  Best enjoyed when attended by a large group of friends, who go with the attitude, "we come to sweat".

Why Brazil and not somewhere else?

Through my daytime gig, I've seen beautiful beaches in Costa Rica, Barcelona, Tel Aviv, Nice, Mexico, Venice, and Cape Town, and its not just the beaches.  I've gone to wonderful outdoor markets, in each cities and many more but its not just the markets.  I exhale in Brazil, I forgive myself, and let go of the control and expectations that I've tortured myself with for much of my life, and I can just enjoy.  Control and expectations are a part of any upwardly mobile civilization, however in Brazil, and Rio specifically for me, I seem to be able to slow down.  As my "PAPA" (my mother's father) would always tell me, "Rita! hurry up and slow down."  Even to monitoring how many sheets of toilet paper I use in the bathroom; instead of in typical "Ugly American fashion" rolling off as much as I feel entitled to use...I slow down and appreciate many small things that I enjoy in Brazil. 

When I first came to Brazil, in 1999, it was a pleasure trip with a great friend, from elementary school, who put me on as her companion which allowed me to visit, Salvador, Bahia.  It was amazing, acaraje, and colors, and cachaca, and drum schools, and art, lots of art.  But I kept coming back because after 9/11 I was so dissatisfied with the U.S. and governments decisions.  I wanted to find a new home.  I did a documentary about how teenagers, felt about 9/11 called VOICE OF THE FACELESS that went to a few festivals, including the African Diaspora Film Festival in New York and the London Black Film.  Not realizing that getting in festivals was a job in itself, I dropped the ball.  Instead I focused on making a living in film, and then as a jewelry designer.  It was when the economy first began to fall, early in 2005, that I decided to try hand as a flight attendant.  To my mind I was forsaking the arts, and committing to curiosity.  The only problem, is the arts, and in particular filmmaking is in my blood.  From that access I have since been to Brazil over a dozen times and began filmming what is now the feature documentary WHY BRAZIL?  So many asked me, Why do you keep going back?  This question helped me focus my filming, and do some interviews with people that answer that question and at the same time presented others.  This blog is my journey.