Look.

I went to Brazil and for a while, I couldn’t get it out of my head. I didn’t get it out until last week. If you have never been, there are million reasons why.

I could tell you it was the hot and humid in the middle of summer at the beginning of February. I could describe how the beaches were filled with soft giving scalding sand and how the clear green water was so cool after walking in the heat. I definitely wouldn’t forget the skin tones of the most sensual women I have ever seen and the way they looked at me-smiling, playful, interested. I could talk in detail about the architecture of Old Bahia the former heart of a city that is one of the oldest in the country. And, putting the whole country into perspective, I could talk about the Yoruba symbols carved into the slabs of concrete that make up the winding sidewalks around the city. I could even talk about the public buses with the turnstiles in the middle with cats taking changes. I could talk about that. I could even talk about the strips tied to my right wrist and the wishes I made on them. I really couldn’t though because those wishes wouldn’t come true. I could say that you aren’t supposed to take them off. They are supposed to fall off. One of them looks like it will fall any day now and when it does, I will be a bit sad. I will miss it.

But didn’t I just talk about it?

I could tell you all about the blancos and the sound systems and the heat and energy of a blanco coming by as the crowd outside jumps, dances, sweats and shouts to the pulse of the bass kicks. That is something to really talk about.

But when I went to the mall, I could really talk about how I was the darkest person in the food court and cats looked at me funny when I walked into stores until I started speaking and they heard English not Portuguese.

I would talk about all of that but you don’t want to hear that. You just want to know about the sun kissed skin of the women specifically their beauty and their willingness to sleep with you.  It’s true ya ‘know. But there is a story to tell and I ‘m not telling you that one. It ain’t even right. It definitely isn’t fair.

My story is the reclusiveness I have had since I got back. The way I sort of haven’t wanted to go out as much. I can’t go there, come back and just do the same things anymore. I saw too much. Namely that even though they have slightly less creature comforts that America - i.e. an internet café has tube monitors instead of flat screens and runs windows ’98 in stead of NT, XP or 2000 - they are overwhelmingly happier than the average American. It’s the culture. Their culture lends itself towards a happier more content mindset than America’s. It messed me up and I can’t even say I want to let this funk go. It’s already going but the marks been made y’all. The marks been made.

If you really want to read more about my trip, namely Carnaval ’06, check out my travel writing piece on Nat Creole.com.

But even if I rant on and on about how great it is, Brazil is not perfect. Just last week they went through a five day battle in Sao Paulo the city I flew into. The mafia attacked the police and after the melee was over, some seventy people were dead on both sides.

I don’t know what else to say about it. I just know it is a beautiful and dangerous place and I am going back.

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