The bottom line is... Who truly wouldn't want to live a life of freedom?
Where you can say absolutely anything you wanted and do just as you please, without upsetting anyone?
If they had shown me a clip from a mini-showdown of my life now... A free-spirited woman, making her life... Her fantasy. I would have laughed at the impossibility of the idea! We each have the tools hidden within us to make space for new possibilities in our lives. Whether we choose to use them in our own way or keep them hidden forever yearning to get out... Is our choice and our right.
Travelling to South America had always been a 'dream'. It was time to make that dream into reality.
Hala and I took a month off to visit a few destinations in the continent of 'incredible bodies', the natural beauty of the land, 'steak and red wine' and 'modern apartment blocks' for the 'extra' cash around.
Our first destination was Rio - a picturesque city. The balcony of our twelfth-floor hotel room faced the Ipanema beach; a never-ending bay with wide sandy beaches and a wavy sea. The Portuguese-tiled, black-and-white promenade onto the road which was closed off to cars on Sundays is where a crowd of all ages kept fit by power walking and jogging in both directions. Others played volleyball in their perfect bodies. We were told that the majority of people here had plastic surgery from a young age. I can't quite believe that! They sure looked natural!
Each promenade, as in Ipanema Beach and Copacabana Beach had their own individual design of black and white tiles. These tiles were brought in by the Portuguese on board ships as ballast to be replaced by treasures from the islands, after the 1808 fleeing of the Portuguese monarchy to Rio from threat of the Napoleonic invasion.
Our hotel view overlooked the twin peaks of 'dois Irmois', the two brothers, blunt like two crayon tips. Apparently, the locals called them 'The Two Tits'! They may be that... Just not the surgically enhanced sort!
On our first night, we met up with our relatively new friend (at the time) from London, also visiting Rio. Connor had met a cute Brazilian girl who joined us with her friend and all the stories of 'the friend' having been approached by a couple of old-time swingers from San Francisco!
Being in Rio was like being at home! We fitted the part of 'los Cariocas', the natives quite well. We went to a local restaurant with the group of friends Connor had accumulated since his arrival a few days ahead of us.
Next to our table of six, was a Scandinavian-looking man. Fit, so he must be living there. Tanned, golden brown with white skin which had been getting a fair share of the sun; with a shaved head and blue colour eyes. He was dining on his own and simply glanced our way as we settled into our seats, mine being the closest to his table. I let a little time pass, he was definitely on his own. Although he seemed to be reading, his attention had clearly been diverted by our noisy arrival.
"Hello, I'm Haldita. And you?" I questioned the poor guy before he knew what hit him!
"Hi, I am Swen," he said with a dry smile. Well, he was fit enough to be an older footballer of about late forties but definitely not the football manager!
He quickly softened up in a friendly but detached manner; as if he didn't want to give too much away about himself, which always makes me more curious. Fair enough! I would say he was one of those 'exile characters'... A fugitive in Rio!
Swen joined us on the beach the next day and only gave away a slight hint of his 'ideal' lifestyle in this city of marvel with the hottest young babes any city could offer and how business through the internet brings many possibilities worldwide. It was interesting meeting him as he left us after a very pleasant afternoon of chatting and people-watching, not to be seen again.
We visited the city's many attractions. Once out of the bubble that carried us to the top of the mountain... I looked so high up to the 'Corcovado' that my hat fell off behind. Getting close to the magical gigantic statue of Jesus with open arms, overlooking the panoramic view of the surrounding islands, was pure joy. How funny that the whole world has now turned into 'Japanese tourists' due to digital cameras. So we played our part in that.
We also rekindled with a good Brazilian friend; Alicia from Paris, who organised a trip by car to the Brazilian St Tropez of Buzios. It was a favourite spot of Brigit Bardot's in her heyday. They had a bronzed statue of her by the sea. I had to sit on her lap for a photo shoot! I and Brigitte became mates! Alicia and her very dear friend Rena took us out to Caipirinha tasting; a delicious Brazilian cocktail made in different juicy flavours. And site-seeing through their city of wonder.
We spent a pleasant afternoon at the beachside residence of Alicia's close family friends in Buzios, who welcomed us with such warm hospitality. I tried to learn some Portuguese. Todo ben? ... Si... todo ben. Obrigado. Translation being... All's well? Yes... all's well. Thank you. It is good to learn just a couple of courteous, useful words wherever one goes. It does make a difference in getting a connection, however small, with the locals. We kept getting lost there every time we came back from the beach to the small hilltop posada, run by a lesbian couple who were so helpful in rescuing us every time we got re-routed into another nameless area. Wasn't easy! We spent an evening walking around the little upbeat village, listening to a live band playing Bossa Nova in a cosy bar.
Back in Rio, amongst our tourist attractions, one cloudy, rainy morning, Hala looked into our guidebook which did not leave her side and called the tour guide direct on his line for a tour of the favelas! 'The infamous hotbed of gun and drug crime'. We also decided not to mention our adventure to our friends as it would cause them unnecessary concern. Now... I haven't seen the movie 'The City of God' which was pointed out to me later as a true story of violent scenes in the favelas... Known as the slums! Just as well. I like to have an open mind and no fear... of people or places.
We would minimally wear Havaianas flip-flops and comfy gym clothes. No jewellery and tanned to the colour of the locals. Los Cariocas after all. A small minibus tour of eight people, all couples except Sis and I.
At the first stop, we bought a self-made CD from a rasta-looking man who smiled a lot. I thought in a worldly language, he mentioned 'marijuana'! What a super friendly chap! Not sure what was said between us, I offered him some reais (local money) and we left his stall to carry on with the tour. Next was a centre for the children in the favelas; where parents left their young ones for recreation and education for the day while they went to work. Manuel, our tour guide who himself was from a favela, explained how part of the money from the tour goes to this centre.
Walking through the dark alleys where divisions of unlit rooms with a door opening, half-covered with a piece of cloth could just be visible, I could see into the simplicity of these people's lives; a rug, a chair, barely any furniture or light. The people seemed friendly and accepted my offer of taking photos with them. Music and dancing play a large role in their culture... in their sanity.
They dance and show their bright teeth with a burst of laughter that says... 'When I'm dancing... I'm happy. Nothing matters!' So... Let's dance away!
At the end of the tour, as we were getting on the bus, the rasta-man re-appeared almost breathless running uphill, approached and handed me a CD bag, gave us a kiss on the cheek and left!
"You ARE Brazilian... Right?" Asked Manuel who must have sussed out what we were up to and seemed sure of the answer.
"No..." was my answer with a cheeky smile.
"You're not?" He did seem surprised!
For the dancing, we visited the Lapa area of the city. In this lively house, on different floors, there were endless pieces of antique furniture hanging from ceilings, on walls... scattered all over the place. We sat down to a lively dinner, met some fun French guys who we chatted to and watched the band play through the opening which ran through the middle of the building.
To follow... Meeting Shakira in a private bar was epic!
Where you can say absolutely anything you wanted and do just as you please, without upsetting anyone?
If they had shown me a clip from a mini-showdown of my life now... A free-spirited woman, making her life... Her fantasy. I would have laughed at the impossibility of the idea! We each have the tools hidden within us to make space for new possibilities in our lives. Whether we choose to use them in our own way or keep them hidden forever yearning to get out... Is our choice and our right.
Travelling to South America had always been a 'dream'. It was time to make that dream into reality.
Hala and I took a month off to visit a few destinations in the continent of 'incredible bodies', the natural beauty of the land, 'steak and red wine' and 'modern apartment blocks' for the 'extra' cash around.
Our first destination was Rio - a picturesque city. The balcony of our twelfth-floor hotel room faced the Ipanema beach; a never-ending bay with wide sandy beaches and a wavy sea. The Portuguese-tiled, black-and-white promenade onto the road which was closed off to cars on Sundays is where a crowd of all ages kept fit by power walking and jogging in both directions. Others played volleyball in their perfect bodies. We were told that the majority of people here had plastic surgery from a young age. I can't quite believe that! They sure looked natural!
Each promenade, as in Ipanema Beach and Copacabana Beach had their own individual design of black and white tiles. These tiles were brought in by the Portuguese on board ships as ballast to be replaced by treasures from the islands, after the 1808 fleeing of the Portuguese monarchy to Rio from threat of the Napoleonic invasion.
Our hotel view overlooked the twin peaks of 'dois Irmois', the two brothers, blunt like two crayon tips. Apparently, the locals called them 'The Two Tits'! They may be that... Just not the surgically enhanced sort!
On our first night, we met up with our relatively new friend (at the time) from London, also visiting Rio. Connor had met a cute Brazilian girl who joined us with her friend and all the stories of 'the friend' having been approached by a couple of old-time swingers from San Francisco!
Being in Rio was like being at home! We fitted the part of 'los Cariocas', the natives quite well. We went to a local restaurant with the group of friends Connor had accumulated since his arrival a few days ahead of us.
Next to our table of six, was a Scandinavian-looking man. Fit, so he must be living there. Tanned, golden brown with white skin which had been getting a fair share of the sun; with a shaved head and blue colour eyes. He was dining on his own and simply glanced our way as we settled into our seats, mine being the closest to his table. I let a little time pass, he was definitely on his own. Although he seemed to be reading, his attention had clearly been diverted by our noisy arrival.
"Hello, I'm Haldita. And you?" I questioned the poor guy before he knew what hit him!
"Hi, I am Swen," he said with a dry smile. Well, he was fit enough to be an older footballer of about late forties but definitely not the football manager!
He quickly softened up in a friendly but detached manner; as if he didn't want to give too much away about himself, which always makes me more curious. Fair enough! I would say he was one of those 'exile characters'... A fugitive in Rio!
Swen joined us on the beach the next day and only gave away a slight hint of his 'ideal' lifestyle in this city of marvel with the hottest young babes any city could offer and how business through the internet brings many possibilities worldwide. It was interesting meeting him as he left us after a very pleasant afternoon of chatting and people-watching, not to be seen again.
We visited the city's many attractions. Once out of the bubble that carried us to the top of the mountain... I looked so high up to the 'Corcovado' that my hat fell off behind. Getting close to the magical gigantic statue of Jesus with open arms, overlooking the panoramic view of the surrounding islands, was pure joy. How funny that the whole world has now turned into 'Japanese tourists' due to digital cameras. So we played our part in that.
We also rekindled with a good Brazilian friend; Alicia from Paris, who organised a trip by car to the Brazilian St Tropez of Buzios. It was a favourite spot of Brigit Bardot's in her heyday. They had a bronzed statue of her by the sea. I had to sit on her lap for a photo shoot! I and Brigitte became mates! Alicia and her very dear friend Rena took us out to Caipirinha tasting; a delicious Brazilian cocktail made in different juicy flavours. And site-seeing through their city of wonder.
We spent a pleasant afternoon at the beachside residence of Alicia's close family friends in Buzios, who welcomed us with such warm hospitality. I tried to learn some Portuguese. Todo ben? ... Si... todo ben. Obrigado. Translation being... All's well? Yes... all's well. Thank you. It is good to learn just a couple of courteous, useful words wherever one goes. It does make a difference in getting a connection, however small, with the locals. We kept getting lost there every time we came back from the beach to the small hilltop posada, run by a lesbian couple who were so helpful in rescuing us every time we got re-routed into another nameless area. Wasn't easy! We spent an evening walking around the little upbeat village, listening to a live band playing Bossa Nova in a cosy bar.
Back in Rio, amongst our tourist attractions, one cloudy, rainy morning, Hala looked into our guidebook which did not leave her side and called the tour guide direct on his line for a tour of the favelas! 'The infamous hotbed of gun and drug crime'. We also decided not to mention our adventure to our friends as it would cause them unnecessary concern. Now... I haven't seen the movie 'The City of God' which was pointed out to me later as a true story of violent scenes in the favelas... Known as the slums! Just as well. I like to have an open mind and no fear... of people or places.
We would minimally wear Havaianas flip-flops and comfy gym clothes. No jewellery and tanned to the colour of the locals. Los Cariocas after all. A small minibus tour of eight people, all couples except Sis and I.
At the first stop, we bought a self-made CD from a rasta-looking man who smiled a lot. I thought in a worldly language, he mentioned 'marijuana'! What a super friendly chap! Not sure what was said between us, I offered him some reais (local money) and we left his stall to carry on with the tour. Next was a centre for the children in the favelas; where parents left their young ones for recreation and education for the day while they went to work. Manuel, our tour guide who himself was from a favela, explained how part of the money from the tour goes to this centre.
Walking through the dark alleys where divisions of unlit rooms with a door opening, half-covered with a piece of cloth could just be visible, I could see into the simplicity of these people's lives; a rug, a chair, barely any furniture or light. The people seemed friendly and accepted my offer of taking photos with them. Music and dancing play a large role in their culture... in their sanity.
They dance and show their bright teeth with a burst of laughter that says... 'When I'm dancing... I'm happy. Nothing matters!' So... Let's dance away!
At the end of the tour, as we were getting on the bus, the rasta-man re-appeared almost breathless running uphill, approached and handed me a CD bag, gave us a kiss on the cheek and left!
"You ARE Brazilian... Right?" Asked Manuel who must have sussed out what we were up to and seemed sure of the answer.
"No..." was my answer with a cheeky smile.
"You're not?" He did seem surprised!
For the dancing, we visited the Lapa area of the city. In this lively house, on different floors, there were endless pieces of antique furniture hanging from ceilings, on walls... scattered all over the place. We sat down to a lively dinner, met some fun French guys who we chatted to and watched the band play through the opening which ran through the middle of the building.
To follow... Meeting Shakira in a private bar was epic!
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