& Moira Bianchi: Copacabana
Mostrando postagens com marcador Copacabana. Mostrar todas as postagens
Mostrando postagens com marcador Copacabana. Mostrar todas as postagens

terça-feira, 1 de janeiro de 2013

Advices for 2013!

 Happy new year!

2012 was a good year for me, in spite of its even number. Usually years that finish on an odd number are sweeter for me, can't imagine why. I first noticed this when in my cups - let me confide in you, my cups were overflown!! - during a fantastic New Year's celebration in Copacabana.

champagne 2013 revéillon

It was the turn from 2002 to 2003 and that year had been malignant with me. A very wise advice that I'll post here later this week says that 

 

'In time, everything turns into an anecdote. So don't fret too much now.'

 

Thankfully I can't remember what was so bad in 2002 and I'm not planning on trying to remember. Let bygones be bygones. But mercifully a great friend called us on December 31st, 19:30pm.

'Hi, honey. What are you guys planning for later today?' He asked.

'Mmmm...' I frowned. 'We´re going to join the throng in Copacabana and maybe I can find myself a way to drown my sorrows in a midnight sea bath.' I answered miserably.

'My boyfriend's got 4 tickets for the 1st Stage's VIP party at Leme beach? Wanna come?' He offered.

I guess he's deaf 'till this day from the 'YYYYYeahh!!' I shouted.

 

I drank all the Veuve Clicquot I could, not minding my waist, sips of water between the sprkling wine flûtes, eating something, whatever. I drowned my sorrows as best as I could. We danced and sang on top of our lungs, it was awsome!!!
new year's fireworks

Let's not discuss my January 1st, it was brutal... Let me repeat that: B R U T A L. But 2013 did start with the right vibe and that was when I noticed my 'thing' with odd numbered years.

May 2013 be just great!

May this blog keep getting 2000 visits/month!

May my book keep selling!

May my new book be a similar success!

May we all have wonderful days that will put our bad days to shame!

 

colin firth charmsFor inspiration, I remebered this old, old, nice and good piece of advice. For me, this is everlasting as Mr Darcy 's charms, Dead Poets Society and Ferris Bueller's Day Off . You may not want to see it everyday (except from Mr D, of course!) but once you get your eyes on it, it's awsome again.

 

 

 

Advice, like youth, probably just wasted on the young

A newspaper column by Mary Schmich, published by the Chicago Tribune on 01 June 1997.


Ladies and gentlemen:

Wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.

Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.  

Travel. This is Hot Rio Chick's advice!

Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen. 

Copyright © 2006, Chicago Tribune
reblogged from The full text 



Let's have fun in 2013!

terça-feira, 26 de junho de 2012

Casa Bonita

Hello, hello!

Casa bonita, Casa bonita!


This last week, aside from surfing the thrill of the comments on the last chapter of 'How Will Darcy persuaded Lizzy Bennett' AKA Foask, I´ve been hosting a dear friend in Rio.
'Darling, I´m glad we´re having this other honeymoon in Rio. What if we move here?'
Yes, Mr Darcy! Move here!


His first time here - my friend, not Mr Darcy - an European guy lost in the middle of Rio + 20 UN Environment Forum, my Hungarian friend is enjoying a colorful South American week.
Yummy!

As he loves South Park, I can´t help by comparing our sight seeing to Cartman´s mad run to enjoy all Casa Bonita has to offer. That´s also one of his favorite episodes and not only has he quoted it while we planned our days, he especifically said he wouldn´t do a Cartman here in Rio.

Ah, well my friend, I will!
Sorry, BFF!  ;)

Crazy crowd of (fake) Brazilian Indians - Hare Krishnas - free hugs offers - Greenpeace sun - African activists - political manifestations - bare chested women on the sluts protest - beer drinking and grass smoke cloud: check!

Meal in a Brazilian weigh-your-own-dish buffet: check!

Patience with a whiny 3 year old: check! 
Thank you, friend... :S

Devassa pub: check!

Quinta da Boa Vista and the (ahem) National History Museum: check!

Paço Imperial and a very expressive modern art exhibit: check!

Forte de Copacabana and Colombo cafe: check!

MAC Niterói, Icaraí, São Francisco, Charitas: check! 

Cachacinha: check!

Barcas: check!

Caipirinha: check!
Ypióca + lemmon: yummy!

Concrete Christ: check!
Brrr.... cold!

St Jude's church, Largo do Boticário, Corcovado train: check!

Aterro do Flamengo: check!

Caipirinha: check!
51 + lemon: yummylish!

Barra, Recreio, Prainha, Grumari: check!

3 year old Mogli boy: check!

Sorry again...
Churrascaria: check!

Picanha a brasileira: check!

Catching up on a life long friendship: check!

Saara: check!

Beaches: check!
Yeah, bitches!

Bothanic garden: check!

Churros, goiabada, pé de moleque, doce de leite, brigadeiro: check!

Caipirinha: check!
Lime + magnífica: yummy x 2!

Sugar Loaf: he says it´s gonna be almost the same view as the Christ's (it doesn´t matter how much I say that it won´t) and is declining the visit. He´s actually scared shit of the cable car.

Me and my friend, we´ll still have several Museums (ahem), beaches, tastes and sights to see but one thing I can say: Rio still has lots of work to host tourists... We lack directions in English or any other language, although we are very nice to tourists. We love to see the city crowded and the white, white skinned who go pinkish from our mad sun!

See ya on 2013, 2014 or 2016?



bj



THE HUNGARIAN SPEAKS FOR HIMSELF: Staying in Rio with Moira for me was like a dream...in the first days i couldn't believe it that i'm here. I actually swore that i won't run thru all the things and excitements as Master Eric did...though i totally understand his attitude. Rio is absolutely different from other towns and countries I saw in Europe, and i really loved the places, bars, food and the people. The people who were always kind and helpful - even if they called me a gringo, which was surprising for a guy coming from Eastern Europe and saw Gringos only in the films of Sergio Leone...I also got another nickname here: cachaceiro, meaning a cachaca-addict, someone who loves drinking caipirinha cocktails. The latter name i liked more....:))) 
 
Now it's Moira's turn to visit me in Europe...
Até logo !

Here you go, BFF! Now you´re one of us! :*
Hope you come back really soon, friend!
And damn yeah, I´m going to Europe in the near future!!!


Disclaimer: for once, some of these pics are mine! yay! Mostly, they were found on Google.

terça-feira, 8 de maio de 2012

Small town blues, poetically speaking

Good morning everyone!

I start off quoting Chico Buarque, Brazilian Firthness: cool, charming, manly, sexy, whatever.

'You, who invented sadness, please be so kind as to uninvent it.'


At this point of 'Frienship of a special kind', Lizzy has brought Mr Darcy to Meryton, and he recieved a Bennett intensive care treatment. How about that?

'I´m actually happy to be your knight in shining armour today.'

'At least one of us is glad about this trip...'

Lizzy is a bit squirmish to visit her small town, Darcy meeting her parents, commitment... Things getting too real. She says that coming to Meryton enhances her disconfort. Makes sense, let´s be sincere. Especially because her first husband also was from Meryton.

I was born in a small town too, and I couldn´t get out soon enough. During my senior year, I counted days to move here (Rio) and start college. Ah... a whole new life waited for me here. 

Preparing this post I came across several accounts of living in small towns - choosing to live in a small town. Check 'Why I run' way of saying it: 'I love living in a small town. I love the traffic, or lack thereof. I love the fields and animals that are so close. I love the small town newspaper. I love the school,... I love that I know so many people. Although I am not naive, I like feeling safe here. However, by choosing to live in a small town, I give up some things. We have about 3 good restaurants in town. Shopping is limited... There's just no sugar coating that one.' 

Neatorama's Alex says something very real: 'Taxes are low, the cost of living is low and the kids enjoy school. But the family (who moved from Florida to a North Dakota small town) also found a cliquey community that treated them like outsiders. "For my wife, it’s been a culture shock," the husband said.'

Yep, cultural shock. What a drag...

'The nice part about living in a small town is that when you don´t know what you're doing, someone else does.'


Yep. That´s why I couldn´t get out fast enough. 

But there are poetical views of a small town. Several. I prever Brazilian poet Carlos Drummond de Andrade's, a genius with words. He could bend words, twist and make them behave whatever way he wanted. Here´s what he wrote about his small town, Itabira. 'Confidência' is the poem.

Drummond as he used to enjoy Copacabana beach everyday.

Alguns anos vivi em Itabira.                                                   For some years I lived at Itabira.
Principalmente nasci em Itabira.                                              Mostly I was born in Itabira.
Por isso sou triste, orgulhoso: de ferro.                                    That´s why I´m sad, proud: iron maden.
Noventa por cento de ferro nas calçadas.                                 Ninety percent of iron on the sidewalks.
Oitenta por cento de ferro nas almas.                                      Eighty percent of iron in the souls.
E esse alheamento do que na vida é porosidade e comunicação.   And this alienation of what is porosity and communication
in life.


I´m fairly proficient in Portuguese, I think it´s a beautiful language - in spite of my Orkut nemesis that accused me of burying Portuguese because I write in English -  but I could never translate 'alheamento da vida' as poetically as Drummond wrote it. I´m sorry for that.

But he was so accomplished that he wrote the following pearl, this little glimpse of how a poet´s mind should work. 'Poema das sete faces'. 

Quando nasci, um anjo torto                       When I was born, a twisted angel
desses que vivem na sombra                      one of those who live in the shadows

disse: Vai, Carlos, ser gauche na vida.         said: Go, Carlos, be gauche in life.

No one resists a chat with him. Believe me, when at Copacabana beach, you wont´t either.

And that of course, brings me to Chico Buarque. 'Até o fim.'


Quando nasci veio um anjo safado                 When I was born, arrived a croocked angel
Um chato dum querubim                               A bore of a cherubin
E decretou que eu estava predestinado          And he established that I was fated
A ser errado assim                                      To be this wrong
Já de saída minha vida entortou                    Right from the start my life he twisted
Mas vou até o fim                                       But I´ll stick to it.

I was thinking about how to describe Chico to you and considered poet, excellent composer, mild singer, writer, romancist, political activist, etc, etc. And then it came to me. The remembrance of my bosses - four lady architects - on my best internship, Chico lovers. If it were today, they would say in unison: 'Little Moira... let me teach you: he is sexy, handsome, inteligent, cool, perfect! Unique and universal. Chico is our Colin Firth.'

Blue eyes
Atittude

Of all his precious work, as big as the world, so inspirational, there´s a song I like the best and (oh, what a surprise, I found a song to fit this story...) totally fits this point of the story. Lizzy is opening up, Darcy is sure of what he wants. I give you Chico Buarque and his Future lovers.


Não se afobe, não                                Don´t rush, no don´t
Que nada é pra já                                'Cause nothing is urgent
O amor não tem pressa                         Love does not haste
Ele pode esperar em silêncio                  It can wait in silence
Num fundo de armário                           On the back of a closet
Na posta-restante                                On a post office's refused mail
Milênios, milênios                                  Millennia, millennia
No ar                                                  In the air

E quem sabe, então                             And who know, by then
O Rio será                                           Rio de Janeiro will be
Alguma cidade submersa                       A submersed city
Os escafandristas virão                        The scuba divers will appear
Explorar sua casa                                To rummage your house
Seu quarto, suas coisas                       Your rooms, your stuff
Sua alma, desvãos                              Your soul, garrets

Sábios em vão                                    Uselessly, wise men
Tentarão decifrar                                Will try to decode
O eco de antigas palavras                    Ancient words' echo
Fragmentos de cartas, poemas              Fragments of letters, poems
Mentiras, retratos                               Lies, pictures
Vestígios de estranha civilização            Traces of an odd civilization

Não se afobe, não                               Don´t rush, no don´t
Que nada é pra já                               'Cause nothing is urgent
Amores serão sempre amáveis               Love will always be lovely
Futuros amantes, quiçá                       Future lovers, maybe
Se amarão sem saber                          Will love each other without realizing
Com o amor que eu um dia                   That one day, this love
Deixei pra você                                  I had meant for you


Oh, Chico... this song is so perfect!

Don´t I know that?

Thanks for stopping by. Bj



Disclaimer.What´s due to me is the googling of all these pics. Everything else belong to the great people who originally posted them. Tks.