more photos from Brazil
My friend Amos,
a warm and wonderful young performer (who makes a mean moqueca baiana, I might add - for more info on moqueca, check wikipedia ... but, in a nutshell, it's a very hearty stew with seafood [in Amos's case, camarao - shrimp] dende [palm oil], coconut milk, onion, tomatoes, garlic, chili, and whatever else one fancies including in the mix) from Salvador, recently sent me his photos from our time with Lume.
Here are a couple from the evening henceforth known as "A gringa palada" (the naked gringa).
A fantastic clown trio from Sao Paulo performed a fantastic show called "Los Kamaradas" in the Feverestival. My Portuguese comprehension was barely approaching functional at that stage, but their physical work was so strong that I understood nearly everything (and I had my friend Gui on hand to assist with the occasional phrase). The story, peppered with generous and highly amusing audience participation, centered largely around the clowns' quest for love (and the endurance of their friendship). Near the beginning of the show they asked, among other things, "quem e solteira/ao" (or something like that - feel free to correct my abominable spelling/grammar/etc) - "who's single?" - and "who's from Barao Geraldo/Campinas/Sao Paulo/Brazil/nowhere near here at all?" A French guy and I raised our hands appropriately. That evening I wore, as I often did (see photos for evidence), my bikini top in the sweaty, summery soup that is Brazilian weather in February. The show continued, some minutes later one clown asked the other, "Whom do you fancy in the audience? Who catches your eye?" "I like the gringa pelada!" he replied (we'd already had a little exchange about New York and my name and so on...). Much to my delight, they integrated me into the performance and, at the end, I participated in the finale - the wedding of the two main clowns - and I left the theater, at the clowns' urging, with a lovely accessory (pictured below). I tied it to the bike I borrowed while I was there (tragically, foolishly, I didn't take any pictures) and left it for Carol, the owner of said bike. Carol, incidentally, is a dancer who has a small, beautiful, semi-public yoga studio in her home and the studio was where I slept.
We are in Bar do Jair, a lovely, bustling place with extraordinarily tasty coxinhas (deep fried snack things often with minced chicken in the center and, at Bar do Jair, always with catupiry [a very creamy cheese] and massa di mandioca [mashed casava]).
With me is Gui, a dancer and professor of performance and all-around fierce fella. I think it's possible that the caipirinha next to Gui wasn't the first one of the evening. That's why I'm all sideways-like in that first one. Really.