Adventure in Brazil

It's P-Time in Brazil

In international marketing and management classes, one subject covered is time-orientation: polychronic or monochronic. America is monochronic. Time is money. Don't be late. Don't waste time. The way I always remembered the cultures that were monochronic was if the country was a huge, industrialized economy (US, UK, Australia, etc.). Brazil is polychronic, as is Gabriel. A running joke of ours is, when Gabe is late, he says he is on 'P-time'. P-time: it is okay to be late.

I got my first dose of P-time at the Sao Paulo airport during my transfer flight to Recife. At check-in, I'm told my flight is delayed. Would I like to be bumped to an earlier one which arrives in Recife at 1am (as opposed to 3 am)? Sure! Do I have time to make the flight? Yes, it boards in ten minutes. No big deal. Ten minutes? And I have to go through security again? Being the monochronic American I am, I book to security and then my gate. My gate, which was actually a bus stop incapable of housing a cargo jet, displays a screen which doesn't read 'Recife' nor my flight number. A lady in the TAM Airlines getup tells me "Late fifteen minutes," scratches out the boarding time on my ticket and writes a new time, which I don't look at. No big deal. At least I'm in the right place. Thirty minutes later, I see the time she wrote on my ticket has passed. A long time ago. In fact, I hadn't touched down from my first flight at that time. Then, on the loudspeaker, "Blah Blah Blah, Tres Tres Cinco Zero, Blah Blah Blah, Recife …" I am told that my flight is now boarding upstairs at a different gate. I'm upstairs in a flash. Forty-five minutes later, I board the plane. Initially told I would board in ten minutes and arrive in Recife at 1am, I actually boarded in ninety minutes and landed in Recife at 2am. No big deal. I'm here.

Another brief example of P-time. We're at the mall. I brought no clothes to Brazil in fear of looking as out of place as I did in Amsterdam, where I wore nice, clean clothes among a bunch of druggie, dirtball hippies. After getting Brazilian clothes, Gabe tells me we are meeting his friends to get drunk. What time? 2:30, he says. What time is it now? 3:30. We arrive at the bar at 4:00. Let me get this straight. We agreed to meet at 2:30, and we're just getting here at 4:00? That's P-time. It's okay to be late. My favorite part – his friends aren't there yet! And so P-time goes in Brazil. When in doubt, throw up your hands and say "Fuck it." And to the server: "Amigo, caipirinha, por favor."

Hot and Cold in Brazil vs. America

My first day in Brazil, I met a girl named Deia who lived in the Milwaukee area for a year. She didn't like America because the people are cold. At the time, I didn't fully realize what she meant because it was only my first day in Brazil. By the end of my trip, I knew exactly what she meant. In fact, after having returned, when meeting / greeting a female, I still want to give the air-kisses and hold hands. When meeting a person of the opposite sex (regardless of age) in Brazil, you touch right cheeks together and kiss, then left cheeks together and kiss. You may also hold hands for the first minute or two of conversation. It is a much more touchy-feely culture. I like that. But this is not the extent to how Brazilians are warmer than Americans. It comes down to a basic caring for others.

Gabe's male friends reached out to me as no other group of males have in my life. Consider a situation if a friend of yours has a foreign friend in town for a week here in America. I would be nice to the guy, of course. But, honestly, I don't really give a fuck if he has a good time or not. I don't give a fuck whether he gets laid or gets robbed. I just don't care. Gabe's friends, on the other hand, wanted me to have the best vacation of my life just as much as Gabe did – and they had never met me before. On my second night, we went to a bar where there was a forro (pronounced fo-ho) band. Within five minutes of meeting Jorginho, he was drumming the rhythm of the music on my back. We ended up getting trashed off caipirinhas, shots of cachaca, and Brazilian beer. I'm being taught how to dance forro by a tall, slim, beautiful girl named Sandra. After several songs of dancing, the guys start chanting "Beija, Beija, gringo!" Kiss her, gringo! Then the girls join in this chant. So Sandra and I are making out now, and the guys are going absolutely wild. This is warm vs. cold. Cold: A foreign friend of a friend of mine visits America and hooks up in a bar? Cool, but I don't really give a shit. Warm: I hook up in Brazil and now Gabe and his friends are trashed and sweaty and forming a ring with arms on each others' shoulders repeating some Portuguese chant with the word 'gringo' in it. I honestly think this was the highlight of their night: seeing the gringo hook up and have a great time. They are very oriented towards others. Here in America, we are self-oriented. In America, the highlight of my night is when I hooked up, or when I was having a fabulous time doing whatever.

You may think that the people are only so warm because I am a friend of a friend. I really didn't get that impression. My first night we went to a putaria (which literally translates to 'slut-house') to see an axe band (pronounced ah-shay). Axe is a mutt between samba and salsa with vague hints of reggae influence. I love axe. I am dancing all night long, saturating my clothes with sweat. The lead singer of A La Ursa singles me out. I can't quote him, but I got the impression whatever he said on the mic meant 'the American likes axe'. Later, in English with Portuguese accent, he gets my attention and says "What's going on?" Later, when I am well inebriated, he summons me. A few Brazilian guys push me up to the stage where the lead singer puts the mic in my face. "Viva Brasil!" Nobody in the crowd cares. "Viva Recife!" Nobody in the crowd cares. The lead singer suggests something to me in my ear. "Puta qui pariu!" The crowd goes wild! I am happy, and the singer gets his band back to work making the crowd move. ('Puta qui pariu' literally translates to 'a bitch that gave birth.' It is the equivalent to saying 'what the fuck' in English. I guess a foreigner saying bad words with an accent is always funny.) Anyway, I've strayed from my point a bit. The lead singer of this band, who didn't know me or Gabe or Gabe's friends, took quite a liking to me or felt the need to involve me in the show. This has never happened to me at a concert in America. The guy gave me a big handshake after their set. He really wanted me to love axe and Brazil.

Warm is more social. Communal. Friends play such an important role in life and happiness. When we go to a restaurant, we order a plate of chicken and cheese. The server brings a giant plate of chicken and cheese with side plates. The table shares the food. We all eat the same thing. In America, I order my food. In Brazil, we order our food. In America, I order my beer. In Brazil, we order our beer, which is a 22 oz. bottle with glasses. It is like ordering pitchers, which are present in America but not common. This style of eating and drinking is Brazil. Warm is not just being friendly, it is a genuine concern and affection for others.

Is it Cliché to Fall in Love in Brazil?

So one night I find myself with Gabe, Jorginho, and three Brazilian women in this sleazy, sex motel with hourly rates. I had just heard a lengthy, Portuguese negotiation between Gabe and the one disgusting woman. The other two women are absolutely gorgeous. One looks like Pocahontas, but more sensual. The other looks like Nia Long (actress from Friday) but not so skinny, bigger eyes, bigger lips, and hair down to her shoulders. At this point, anyone who knows me definitely knows which girl I want. However, there had been this lengthy discussion between Gabe and the old, ugly one. Having not been born yesterday, I assume these girls are prostitutes. Why else would such beautiful women be interested in us? And why would they come to this sleazy sex motel within an hour of meeting us?

So I'm on the bed making out with Nia Long, who will be referred to as my moreninha or my little dark princess from now on. Gabe takes Pocahontas in the bathroom and Jorginho is on the couch with the mustached "cousin". (Thanks Jorgi, we owe you one!) My moreninha does not speak English or Spanish so our communication is quite limited. She puts the champagne bottle to my lips and says "Para ti?" I drink and say "Ahora, para ti." And this is the extent of our verbal communication. But trust me: love is all in the nonverbals. We are not just making out. We are having mouth sex. I have never kissed like this in my life. She is examining my teeth, gums, and the roof of my mouth with her tongue. I give her an examination. Tongue-nibbling, lip-nibbling, tongue-sucking, etc. Twice, we each bite each other too hard and the other releases a cry in pain. But we don't stop.

By the way, these girls aren't prostitutes. Gabe was negotiating with the "cousin" to assure her that we were harmless guys and they should come with us to a place where we could play some music and have some drinks (Gabe is great with stuff like that). But not prostitutes. Every time I try to take off my moreninha's pants, she squeals. She literally squeals and says something in Portuguese. So I relax. This is P-time. There is no hurry. I just need to slow down and enjoy my little dark princess. If it happens, it happens. I get so relaxed during our mouth sex and heavy petting that this crazy thought comes into my head. Some people believe in free will and that man chooses what he does and thinks, but some people are more fatalistic and believe in destiny and everything happens for a reason. I don't know which way I am, but this thought came into my mind while I was lying on my back and her big soft lips were gently sucking my lips, which I kept still. I thought this feels so nice and she is so gorgeous. I COULD BRING HER BACK TO AMERICA! I could pluck my little dark princess out of her Brazilian ghetto and take her home with me. Give her a green card and a fabulous life with a tall, successful, handsome American. (Not that there is any success or money in my life right now, per se, but you get the point). I don't care about the circumstances, I could be happy with a girl that kisses like that.

And our make-out session goes on for like two hours. Making out does not last so long in America. Here, after 20 – 30 minutes, the male may say something to communicate "Look, either we're fucking or I'll see you tomorrow." This night in Brazil, there is no sex for me. No happy ending. It's bright outside when we all leave and I am somewhat frustrated. How did I not get laid? What's wrong with me? We're taking the girls home and my moreninha is sitting on my lap. She is caressing my forearm hair exactly the same way Annie did (you see, love is in the nonverbals). We bid a warm goodbye. With just the guys heading home, I vent my sexual frustration. I learn nobody got a happy ending. I guess that makes me feel better; there's nothing wrong with me. But come on!!! Gabe has wise words for me. He says I didn't get laid, but I probably enjoyed that more than I would enjoy some sex in America. You know what? He's right. I had a partner a week or so before Brazil that I regretted as soon as I woke up. No last names, no phone numbers. Politely shooed her out in the morning. I cringe at the thought of that episode. How degrading for me! But my moreninha? That was wonderful. I love that girl, whoever she is.

Does Every Brazilian Want to be American?

I didn't catch this thought until my second-to-last night in Brazil. We went to a bar / club in Rio de Janeiro. It was the first place in Brazil I went with a considerable line to get in and a cover, which was equivalent to $10. It turned out to be the most expensive bar as well. A live cover band played top 40 American hits from the last ten years. Red Hot Chili Peppers, Blues Traveler, Justin Timberlake, 50 Cent and, of course, a few songs by the Black-Eyed Peas (if you don't have bad taste, this music SUCKS). The bar was decorated with pictures reminiscent of the American Civil War. The entire wall leading to the bathrooms was wallpapered with stars and stripes (red, white, and blue). Behind the band was a poster with a big red star. Above and below the star were the words for 'beer' in several different languages. This is the inscription on a Budweiser. The only point-of-sale in the place was Heineken, which they didn't sell. I assume this is the most American-branded POS they could get their hands on, since Anheuser-Busch isn't in Brazil. This crowded, expensive bar is a shrine to America. It would probably be a little too in-your-face to have actual American flags with portraits of George W. Bush, Bill Clinton, Reagan, JFK on the walls. So they went with their chosen décor.

So I'm trashed and have this thought: Does every Brazilian want to be American? Once I have a thought like this and I'm trashed, I'm done for the night. This thought is my only focus. So I start to think about it. When I bought clothes in Brazil, I was frustrated that I couldn't find any clothes with Portuguese on them. I went into dozens of stores and saw dozens of authentic Brazilian brands. All these brands make clothes with English words. I can't think of any American brand that makes clothes in Portuguese. Why do all the Brazilian brands make clothes with English words on them? I only saw one shirt in all of BRAZIL with Portuguese on it – a soccer shirt that read 'Brasil' (spelled 'Brasil' as opposed to 'Brazil'). Speaking of clothes, there were two brand names I saw everywhere on Brazilians. Shirts with the Coca-Cola logo or the Everlast logo. Coca-Cola is obviously an American icon and symbol of capitalist imperialism. And there is no sports brand more American than Everlast. (given Nike does a lot of foreign advertising / sponsorships). Originating in the Bronx, Everlast is the brand to represent American success in boxing. Tyson, Holyfield, Jones, Mayweather. Don't forget Rocky! Everlast and Coca-Cola. Why so popular in Brazil? Will mainstream Americans ever wear Guarana shirts or anything related to Brazilian soccer players? Don't hold your breath.

My last night, I met this guy who loves hip hop. He doesn't like Brazilian hip hop, only American hip hop. 50 Cent and Lloyd Banks. His dream is to move to America. He wasn't sure he would like it, but he wanted to give it a shot. He was a cool guy. I hope he makes it. What is my point in this subsection? I don't know. I doubt every Brazilian actually wants to be an American, but there is something more to this Americana fetish. I just don't know what it is.

Conclusion

Obviously, I am pretty biased toward taking a wife from Brazil or South America in general. Whenever it is that time in my life, I would like my wife and the mother of my children to be of that warm attitude, and I really like the look too. I don't just want to return to Brazil. I want to live there. Fortunately, there is great opportunity for people in business in Brazil. Goldman Sachs has coined BRIC (Brazil, Russia, India, China) to identify those countries it believes will eclipse the traditionally rich countries of the world. Brazil is a huge, emerging market. If I take a brand big there in the heart of its boom, I would be a ruler of the world. Plus, it was just great being there, and I will use Europe to contrast it. Yes, Europe was fun and eye-opening. But why go somewhere where everything is insanely expensive, the dollar sucks, the people don't care about Americans, and the girls aren't as beautiful or as warm? Or you can go to South America where the cost of living is cheap, they love the gringo-ness, the girls are gorgeous and stare at you in the bars. Easy decision.

But that is the logical approach (cold). There is also the emotional approach. The warm approach. I made so many friends I need to see. I never got to make out with Deia. I never got in a fight and thrown in jail with Cilo. I never went to the putaria with Jorginho. I never tried to hook up with Roberta. I never had a political discussion with Thiago. I never found out if that hip hop guy ever made it to America. I never really got to know Davi, Mario, 'Black Power', Guillermo, Nico and all those other people. And I still have to find my moreninha and marry her. I made so many friends that Gabe set me up on Orkut (Brazilian myspace). I miss my peeps! Got to get back!

Miscellaneous Brazilian Oddities

• My first time sitting on a Brazilian toilet, I noticed a ventilated wastebasket next to the toilet. I assumed its purpose, but I couldn't be sure. I was later told that, indeed, used toilet paper is thrown in the wastebasket as opposed to flushed down the toilet. After using the paper, you fold it (using the poop as an adhesive) so it looks like a crumpled piece of paper.
• All the servers and bartenders are men. I was told that there are female servers, but I didn't actually see any. And I went to a lot of places.
• The nice parts of Recife look like East LA, but less spread out. The nice parts of Rio de Janeiro look like Miami.
• Driving rules and custom are similar to the unsaid rules regarding time and punctuality. It's not a big deal. Red lights need not be adhered. Clear, defined lanes of traffic aren't really kept. Blinkers are generally not used. Speed limits are completely optional. Gabe told me driving in the US is boring. He also claimed to have seen a study suggesting that there are fewer accidents per capita in Brazil.
• I ate at least a dozen fruits I had never tried before. I had never heard of many of them and many of them have no translation in English.
• The Atlantic Ocean in Recife was warm!!! Like a heated pool. Having swam in the Pacific, Atlantic, and Gulf of Mexico (all in the US); I assumed all oceans were cold. But the water in Recife was like the kiddie pool, even in winter.
• Soccer is obviously a big deal in Brazil. However, when we went to watch a match, the crowd wasn't really screaming at the tele like American sports fans do. Nor did they go wild when Brazil tied the game. It was a tranquil affair.
• It is apparently a common misconception in America that sex is no big deal in Brazil, that casual sex in common. I was told on my first day that it is easier to get laid in America. Brazilian chicks are quick to kiss / hook up, but much more conservative when it comes to 'sexual relations'. I did not get laid in Brazil.
• It is true that Brazilian women are more beautiful. (Sorry, American girls). You can't drive down a street in Brazil without seeing some long-haired, golden goddess in skimpy clothes.
• Every flight I took from a Brazilian airport was significantly late and left from a different gate than I was first told. Usually 1 – 2 hours and 2 – 3 gate changes.
• Instead of Red Bull & Vodka, Brazilians prefer to mix Red Bull & Johnny Walker Red (Scotch).
• One night looking from Gabe's balcony, I saw a young man washing his two horses in the ocean.
• Christ the Redeemer was the most breathtaking view I have ever seen.
• Thongs and Speedos on the beach are common.

Brazilian Funk - MC Marcinho "Glamurosa"



Ala Ursa YouTube video: