sábado, 27 de abril de 2013

Escalator






It was Sunday, the holy day. The day when we do nothing, but enjoy our own laziness. And that was their plan. It was a rainy day, so they went to the mall. Basically they wanted to walk around... Maybe they could even have a piece of cake... The only certainty they had was this: they wanted to be boyfriends. He was so confident as he looked at his boyfriend. It was that kind of confidence only someone who knows how much love there is in a relationship can have. His boyfriend was beautiful, indeed. But it was more than this. They were connected by the touch of their skin. Their warm hands fitted perfectly. It was love. As simple and as complicated as only love can be.
His boyfriend wanted to eat some cake. How about chocolate? He chose a large piece and had it "to go". They went to the mall's central square and sat near the garden. His boyfriend opened the package and took the piece of cake with his bare hands. With a smile on his lips, he offered the piece to him. Of course he accepted it. He ate and... And it was tasty. But it was also sweet. Too sweet. Now, he needed some water.
They stood up and kept walking around. The mall wasn't that interesting now. Same windows, same brands, same people. And suddenly they caught themselves standing in front of an escalator. He wanted to go up. So his boyfriend said: "No problem, I will go with you". But the problem was that he wanted to go alone. He needed that. He needed some alone time. His boyfriend asked why. Why couldn't they be together? Didn't he love him? But he didn't know the answer. Indeed, all they had was sweet. But too sweet. He needed some time alone. 
So the boyfriend understood: "You go, my love. Go wherever you want. I will wait here, ok? Come back and I will wait for you".
So, he gathered all his courage and started walking. He looked back and smiled at his boyfriend, who was standing there, waiting for him, carrying a sad smile on his face. So he stepped forward and started going up. But then he changed his mind. Was this what he really wanted? And quickly he started running back. Running out the escalator back to his boyfriend's arms.
His boyfriend was happy with that and hugged him and kissed him. "Do you want me to join you now?" he said, hopefully.
But no. He still wanted to go alone. As he told that to his boyfriend, he broke his hearth a little bit more. He apologized, but that was the truth and there was no choice. This time he went to the escalator again, with a little bit more confidence. He was still afraid, but he didn't look back. Again, feeling weird, he starting going up. He managed to get half way up the stairs. But his fear was stronger. Again, he went down, landing on his boyfriend's arms. It was so good to be there... To know that his safe spot was still there. His boyfriend hugged him strongly, almost in tears. So he grabbed his hand, firmly, and said:
"Let's go somewhere else, sweetie. I am tired of waiting here and I want to see more of the first floor. With you. The two of us together."
This time he didn't say anything. He smiled and finally understood everything. He gave his boyfriend a long sad kiss. And walked away in the direction of the escalator. During this trip he was looking back at his boyfriend all the time, but he went all the way. His boyfriend looked sad, of course, as he disappeared of his sight. 
He arrived on the new floor, alone. And it was exactly the same as the floor beneath his feet. Same windows, same brands, same people. With one difference: now he was alone. His boyfriend wasn't there anymore. He understood, then, how he would miss him. He rushed back downstairs, hoping to find his boyfriend waiting for him! But it was too late... When he finally arrived there, he couldn't find him anymore. And it was all the same: same windows, same brands, same people. Only now there was no boyfriend.

quinta-feira, 25 de abril de 2013

Dönnerstag!








Hallo Leute!

How's it going? Has spring caught you, yet? I am sure the warm wheater and the smells, colors and sounds of spring are already making a difference in everyone's life. But hold on. It is not summer yet. We still need to work hard before we can enjoy our vacation. And I must tell you that this week has been a quite hard one! At least for me this has not been easy. But this is good! Easy things are boring... And I think it is always better when it is harder ;).
That is why I think today I could use a very light Dönner, to match the heaviness of the week. Whatcha think?
So, come fly with me...

Would you like to travel in time? 
Flóra Borsi, a bulgarian photografer would. And she made her dream come 
true with those funny photoshop pictures!



But who needs a time machine, when you have Vanity Fair showing us the marvellous Audrey Hepburn being as diva as one can get! Oh, the sixties...



You know what? I really enjoyed this travelling in time thing... So, let's go to Communist Romania with Andrei Pandele. I am glad he took those forbidden pictures. But I was even more amaze by his interview. Check it out here.



Well... Was it too much? Sorry. Let's go back to lighter things. To keep the theme of old things and turing back time, how 'bout some Cher?



Haha! Now... Let's be serious, guys... Let's come back to art, with Alexa Meade! She basically mixes reality and paintings. She paints real people as they were work of art. Check it out!




And to close this thursday with some laughs, tell me if you agree that being in your late twenties is not the same as being in yout early twenties... I know I do!


Have a great Thursday everyone!

Love,


quarta-feira, 24 de abril de 2013

Mais que bermudas, o que a primavera quer da gente é coragem



Ando preocupado esses dias. Tá tudo diferente. O sol tá nascendo mais cedo. Tá se pondo mais tarde. O vento tá soprando mais brando. A água cai em mim em gotas agora. As coisas estão mudando, eu consigo sentir. Mas não gosto de mudanças. Cada dia é diferente do outro. Cadê minha certeza? Cadê minha segurança? Cadê meu chão? 
Respira...
Acordo com o sol no meu rosto. Olho pro relógio: 6h30. Preciso comprar cortinas. Viro pro outro lado e volto a dormir. Quando acordo, estou atrasado. Fazer o que, né? Banho, roupa, comida e já to no trem. 
Na minha frente uma moça com botas, sobretudo, cachecol e luvas. Ao seu lado, um rapaz usando bermudas e óculos de sol. Tudo tão estranho. Isso não tá certo. Semana passada, ninguém ousaria sair de casa sem suas ceroulas e luvas, agora tem gente de bermudas. Que absurdo! Onde esse mundo vai parar? Meu coração começa a bater mais rápido de ansiedade. 
Respira...
A voz diz o nome da minha estação, chegou minha hora. Na rua nada de neve. Cinco dias já que ela não dá as caras. Foi embora sem deixar recado, parece até que fugiu. E agora, escuto pássaros cantando. Em minha frente, passa uma jovem mãe. Ela de vestidinho verde. O bebê, mais empacotado que não sei o quê. Não faz sentido! Simplesmente não faz!
Respira...
Minha mente tenta compreender isso tudo. Ela tenta se casar com o novo. Mas o medo de se decepcionar é grande. Se não gosto de mudanças, tenho especial desprezo por decepções. Essas não são bem-vindas nunca. Simplesmente não dá!
Sinto um peso constante dentro de mim. A cada dois passos tenho de parar e me lembrar a respirar. 
E agora tem essas tulipas vermelhas e amarelas que teimam em crescer. Coitadas. Vão morrer na próxima nevasca, vão ver só... Uma bicicleta passa voando em minha frente. Quase me atropela. O cara da bicicleta, de bermudas, solta um palavrão,  me gritando pra prestar mais atenção! Meu coração quase pula do meu peito de susto! Oxente! Ele que preste mais atenção! Vai pegar uma gripe, mostrando as pernas desse jeito!
Me recomponho do susto, apoiando minhas mãos nas pernas e respirando profundamente. Respira, Marcos. Respira... Por alguns segundos, vejo em minha frente um velho cansado, arfando por ar. Ele tem o rosto amargurado, e fechado. Olho pra ele e ele olha pra mim. Sorrio pra ele e ele sorri de volta. E então compreendo que é meu reflexo na vitrine de uma loja.
É isso, amanhã uso bermudas. 

terça-feira, 23 de abril de 2013

More than shorts, what spring really wants from us is courage...







I have been worried lately. Everything is different. The sun is rising earlier. Sunset comes later. The wind blows lightly on my skin. Now water comes to me as raindrops, not snow. I can feel things are changing. And I don't like it. I don't like changes. I don't like not knowing what to expect in my next day. Where is my certainty? How can one live like this?
Just breathe...
I wake up with the sunlight in my eyes. The clock tells me it is still 6:30 AM. Gosh, I really need some curtains! I go back to sleep and wake up late. This means quick shower, clothes and food. Now I am on the train.
I can't stop noticing that the girl sitting right in front of me is wearing boots, two coats and a scarf. And the guy next to her is wearing shorts and sunglasses. How dare him?! This kind of behavior is just outrageous! I get anxious just to look at those two... And I already start feeling my hearth beating faster.
Breathe... Just breathe.
The voice tells me the name of my station. It is time. I am now on the street. As I would have suspected, there is no sign of snow anywhere. It was gone. Five days already since the last time I saw it. And now I hear birds singing, for God's sake! Frankly, what is happenning to the world?! Tell me, can we relly on anything nowadays?
A mother walks by me. She is wearing a green dress, showing her legs. But her baby is wearing so many layers that I can barely see his face. It just doesn't make any sense to me! No sense at all!
Just breathe, Mark... Just breathe...
My mind is working fast now. Trying to assimilate all those news. The last time I had sun like this, it was for two days only. And then it got colder and colder. No, I will not fall for that again! The moment I start having hopes of a warmer future it will get worst!
Breathe, Mark.
I look at the small grassy sidewalk next to me. I stare at the yellow tulips. I am trying to get used to novelty. Trying to trust it won't go away. But it always go. Oh my... I feel so bad for those tulips. They don't have a clue that the snow will come back. The winter will be back in a feel days and they will all dye! 
As I looked my sad soon-to-be-dead tulips, a bike almost kills me! It passes only inches away from me! The guy from the bike shouts some bad words at me! He tells me to pay more attention! And I shout him back, saying that this is all I have been doing! I pay more attention than anyone! And this is why I know that I cannot trust anything!
The shock of almost dying so early in the morning, makes me even more anxious. I stop to breathe deeper. I feel so tired now... 
Just breathe, Mark, breathe...
I look for anything near where I can find rest for only a second. I lay my hand on the nearest wall. As I was busy breathing and calming down, I couldn't stop noticing there was someone watching me. I look up and I see an old man. He looks so old and tired and sad. But he looks deeply in my eyes. So I smile at him. He instantly smiles back at me...
And only after those seconds, I realize that I am looking at my own reflex in the window.
I am breathing and looking at myself.
Maybe tomorrow I will wear shorts.

domingo, 21 de abril de 2013

To Brasília, with love...



 
It was born of the primary gesture of someone marking a spot or even taking hold of it: two lines crossing forming a right angle. In other words, the sign of the cross itself.
Lúcio Costa (Architect, projector of Brasília)



When I died, one day I opened my eyes and it was Brasília.
I was alone in the world. There was a cab standing near.
No driver. 





And suddenly you miss, among so many monuments and state buildings and so much lightness of the pavements, the humble homes and the humble streets. These that, in other places, are the witnesses of the presence of a humanity, that might be unambitious, but which is loyal and ingrained.


Please, someone hold this city. It is gonna float.
Brasília contradicts itself. Its light arched columns, made of such rigid concrete, are at the same time almost embarrassed to touch the ground. You can feel through them the weight of the entire country.
Gustavo Carneiro 


This city, that first lived within my mind, is now free, 
and does not belong to me anymore, 
- it belongs to Brazil"
Lúcio Costa 

 

Happy Anniversary

Para Brasília, com amor

 
Nasceu do gesto primário de quem assinala um lugar ou dêle toma posse:
 dois eixos cruzando-se em ângulo reto, ou seja, o próprio sinal da Cruz.
Lúcio Costa



Quando morri, um dia abri os olhos e era Brasília. 
Eu estava sozinha no mundo. Havia um táxi parado. 
Sem chofer.



E de repente sente-se a falta, em meio a tanta monumentalidade dos edifícios estatais 
e tanta leveza nos asfaltos, das casas humildes 
e das ruas humildes que em outros lugares são o testemunho 
da presença de uma humanidade talvez pouco ambiciosa, 
mas fiel e enraizada.

Segurem essa cidade. Ela vai flutuar. 
Brasília é a contradição em si. Em suas leves colunas arqueadas, feitas do concreto rígido que, acanhado, quase não toca o chão, pode-se sentir o peso de todo um país. 
Gustavo Carneiro 
 


A cidade, que primeiro viveu dentro da minha cabeça, 
se soltou, já não me pertence, – pertence ao Brasil”
Lúcio Costa 

 

Feliz Aniversário

sexta-feira, 19 de abril de 2013

Ao vencedor, as batatas


Berlim, 26 de setembro de 2012

É... Acho que fiz de novo. Comprei novamente o saco de 2 quilos de batatas no supermercado. É que é fica muito mais em conta comprar em maior quantidade, do que comprar apenas alguns. Já sabem o resultado, né? Batata assada. Batata frita. Batata Soutée. Puré de batata. E tanta batata assim se traduz em vários momentos na pia da cozinha descascando batatas. E daí que acho que descascar batatas é uma das coisas mais terapêuticas que existem. Tenho pensado tanto na vida quando estou na pia, descascando batatas. Hoje mesmo parei pra pensar que já estou aqui em Berlim há mais de um mês. E que as minhas aulas já começaram. E que já conheci meus colegas. Pensei em quanta bagagem diferente se encontra na minha sala. Pensei nas histórias de vida que cada um ali trouxe consigo. Como teria sido a infância da moça da Jordânia? E a festa de quinze anos da menina de Singapura? Será que o cara da África do Sul aproveitou a Copa, dois anos atrás? E como vai ser o Natal da moça da Croácia? E aí, pensei em como foi feio quando eu confundi Croácia com Ucrânia. E Romênia com Bulgária. E Colombia com Venezuela. Pensei em como não gostaria que achassem que eu fosse de outro país, quando já tinha me apresentado como brasileiro. Mas essas gafes diplomáticas são inevitáveis, né? O importante é se desculpar e aprender. Não vou tratar com indiferença o diferente. Pelo contrário, cada um na minha sala é um universo em si. E, na verdade, para isso basta ser "outro". Não é preciso vir da Eslováquia ou do México. Até mesmo o outro cara de Brasília, trouxe as suas experiências únicas. Vividas por ele apenas e por mais ninguém.
E foi assim que as batatas me fizeram sentir esse encantamento pelo mundo em meu redor. Antes fossem cebolas. Assim, teria desculpas para chorar. De alegria! 


You say potato, they say Kartoffeln



Berlin, september 26 2012


Yup... I guess I did it again. I bought again the two-kilo bag of potatoes at the supermarket. The thing is that it is so much cheaper to buy them in larger quantities… Well, you can guess what happens when a single person buys two kilos of potatoes, right? Backed potatoes… French fries... Sauteed Potatoes… Mashed Potatoes.... And all those potato dishes mean hours of peeling potatoes. And I am getting to the conclusion that peeling potatoes is one of the best therapies that exists out there. I have done some serious thinking, while I peel my potatoes by the kitchen sink. Today I thought about how I live here in Berlin for almost a month now. And I thought about how my classes have already started. And that I already got to know most of my colleagues. I thought about all the different backgrounds I can find in my classroom. I thought about how each single life story there is unique. How was it to grow up in Mongolia? And do you think the girl from Singapore had a sweet sixteen party? How about the South African guy... Do you think he enjoyed the World Cup two years ago? And how will the girl from Croatia celebrate Christmas. And then, I remembered how bad it was when I confused Croatia with Ukraine. And Romania with Bulgaria. And Colombia with Venezuela. And I thought how I wouldn't like if someone thought I was from another country once I had already said I was from Brazil. But I also thought how those mistakes are inevitable, right? And that the main thing is to say that you are sorry and learn with them. I will not treat with indifference the different. On the contrary, each person in my classroom brings an entire universe with them. And, to tell the truth, this happens to everyone in any context. All you need, is to be the "other" person. You don't have to come from Slovakia or Mexico. Even the other guy from Brasilia, my home town, brought with him his unique experiences. This guy was the only person who lived them, no one else. And this is how my potatoes made me feel marveled by the world that surrounds me. If only they were onions, I would have an excuse to be crying. Of happiness!

quinta-feira, 18 de abril de 2013

Quinta-feira tem Dönner (ou Dönnerstag)



Oi, gente!

Hoje minha quinta-feira foi ensolarada! Foi linda! Apesar de eu estar cheio de coisas pra fazer pro mestrado, eu acho que o sol merece uma grande celebração! Então, vamos nos esbaldar com a nossa Quinta-feira Dönner!

Esse aqui é o meu novo artista favorito! Aproveite o trabalho de Rubén, um jovem multifacetado artista Catalão, que desenha, escreve, filma... Ele simplesmente tem uma visão mágica do mundo (geralmente os posts são em espanhol, mas quando ele escreve em inglês... Ai... É tão charmoso quanto os seus desenhos)

 Dê algumas risadas pensando em como você se sente quando...

Entre no mundo mágico dessas fotos subaquáicas, de Bruce Mozert.

E tenha alguns momentos de reflexão com os posts (e as tirinhas) do Gabriel Bá e do Fábio Moon.

Continue no clima reflexivo pensando se a depilação é a burca do brasil...

E com esse mesmo espírito reflexivo, pensa comigo por que o brasileiro não reclama (ou melhor, não se indigna). Você concorda?

Se você precisar de mais um pouco de mágica depois disso, entre aqui...

E, pra fechar, veja essa propaganda genial, feita pelo Sabonete Dove. Eu acho que eles tem razão aqui... Você é realmente mais bonito(a) do que você se enxerga!


E agora sai desse computador e vai aproveitar o restinho de quinta-feira! Que eu vou voltar pros meus estudos aqui...

Beijos!

Gustavofsc

Dönnerstag!



Hey, guys!

Today we have a great sunny Dönnerstag! Even though I am filled with work from school, I think this asks for a great celebration! So, let's take a break and enjoy our Thursday Dönner feast, then!

This is my new favorite artist! Enjoy the work of Rubén, a young Catalán, multi-artist, who draws, writes, films... He just has an amazing magical view of the world (he usually posts in spanish, but I love it when it is in english... his english is just as charming as his drawings)

Have some laughs thinking of what happens, when you live in Berlin!

Enter the magical world of these subaquatical pictures, from Bruce Mozert.

If you understand portuguese, have some reflective moments with the posts (and strips) from Gabriel Bá and Fábio Moon.

Keep the reflective moment and think a little bit about why should women change their names when they get married...

And with the same changing feeling, prepare yourself to travel in time! Only now Brazilian maids will have the same labor rights as everyone else (I know... I am ashamed to tell you that they were treated different as anyone else until weeks ago, but I think that slavery had to finally end at some point, right?)

If you need a little more magic, after this cruel truth, get a little more here...

And, let's close with this amazing, very well planned advertising by Dove. I think they made a really good point here... You are more beautiful than you see yourself!


Now get your ass off this computer and go to a park, or a piknik or something! Enjoy your Thursday and the sun!

With love,

Gustavofsc

quarta-feira, 17 de abril de 2013

I'd rather stay with the innocence of the children's answer



Hey guys!

Today I will restrain from writing to much. I have tons of work to do for School and I cannot think of anything to write here, once the song I translated for you already tells us everything.
This morning I had a special group riding the bus with me. A group of 6 year-olds going to a day trip with their teachers. They reminded me how simple and beautiful life really is! And this is something we should always keep in our minds!
I share with you one of my favorite songs! A beautiful Samba composed by Gonzaguinha. I also share with you our great brazilian singer Maria Bethania, giving this samba her version.
And for now, I go back to my papers and texts and all the rest... But keeping the children's answer close to my mind... Or even better: inside my heart.

Have a great Wednesday!

Gustavofsc



What is it again? (O que é, o que é?)

I'd rather stay
With the innocence
Of the children's answer
It is life! It is beautiful
And it is beautiful...

To live!
And to not be ashamed
Of being happy!
To sing, and sing, and sing
The beauty of being forever an apprentice always learning

Oh, my God!
I know, I know
That life should be way better (and it will be!)
But this will not keep me from repeating
It is beautiful, it is beautiful
And it is beautiful...

And life?
What is life?
Please, tell me, my brother
It is the beating of a hearth
It is a sweet illusion
Hê! Ho!
And life
Is it wonderful
Or is it only suffering?
Is it joy
Or is it moan?
What is it? What is it?
My brother...
Some might say
That our life
Is nothing
That it is just a rain drop, that it is only a moment
Less than a second....
Others might say
It is divine
A deep mystery
It is the creator's breath
And filled with love...

Maybe you say it is fight and pleasure
And others say life is just living
And she might even say that it is not worth living
Because she lost her love
And that life's true verb is "to suffer"...

All I know is that I trust in the lady
And in her I put my faith
We are the ones who build our lives
And make of it whatever we want...
 
Life is always wanted
No matter how wrong we are leading it
Nobody wants death
Only health and luck...
And the question remains
And our head keeps thinking about it


But for me...
I'd rather stay
With the innocence
Of the children's answer
It is life! It is beautiful
And it is beautiful... 
 

terça-feira, 16 de abril de 2013

Sobre amizades e reclamações



 Berlim, 22 de Agosto de 2012

Querido diário,

E não é que a gente acha que as coisas são mais simples do que realmente são? Cheguei aqui pensando que meu mundo se abriria pra novidades com certeza. A comida, a pontualidade, a língua. Tudo isso era previsto. Mas tenho conhecido algumas coisas inesperadas.  Elas se apresentam despretensiosamente numa viagem de trem que faço nas terças à tarde. Enquanto nada especial acontece, de repente chega uma novidade e se senta ao meu lado. E na falta de companhia melhor acabo dando atenção. E foi assim que descobri o silêncio. Em nenhuma realidade paralela eu conseguiria imaginar o silêncio gratuito que temos aqui na Alemanha. Acho que é o sonho de qualquer professor primário, que tem que controlar uma turma de crianças chorando, gritando, puxando os cabelos... Imagine o que é estar numa estação de trem com umas quarenta pessoas e elas estarem todas em silêncio? A maioria está com um livro ou escutando música. Mas mesmo as que não tem como passar tempo também ficam em silêncio. Sem assovios ou celulares. Os que conversam com o colega falam num tom inaudível.  Ou seja, à distância, só fica o silêncio. Mas como tudo na vida vem em pares, como o sal e o doce, o bem e o mal, a Globo e o SBT, o silêncio também anda ao lado do seu contraponto: os alemães de origem turca.
Essa semana fui me cadastrar na prefeitura do bairro. Sim, porque os alemães são tão organizados que todos os cidadãos da cidade estão cadastrados e informam seu endereço à sua respectiva prefeitura. Fiquei numa sala de espera com cerca de oitenta pessoas. Estava um calor gigantesco, como nunca vi fazer no Brasil. Aí a gente fica com calor, sim, mas reclama. Olha pro vizinho e fala que está quente e se abana e pede pra abrir a porta. E reclamar alivia o calo. Com certeza! Já aqui, temos que aguentar o calor estático, sem vento algum. Isso dentro dos prédios feitos para aguentar frios de vinte graus negativos, sem janelas apropriadas para os trinta e cinco que estavam fazendo. E o pior é que ninguém reclama. Nem ao menos se abana. Todos sentam-se resignados, esperando seu número. E o silêncio reinava absoluto quando tocou um celular barulhento. A alemã ao meu lado, loiríssima, acho que tinha cara de Berta, não gostou nada daquilo. Berta olhou com uma cara de reprovação. O som veio de uma moça turca,  que sequer tomou conhecimento do desconforto que seu toque trazia ao nosso grupo de oitenta resignados cidadãos do bairro de Moabit. Ela vasculhava sua bolsa, enquanto a música de Bollywood evoluía. Cheguei a sentir vontade de ensaiar um bater de pés, mas fiquei com medo da reação de Berta. Finalmente a moça de sobrancelhas grossas encontrou seu celular. Atendeu e começou a conversar na maior altura possível numa língua ininteligível (não que eu entenda alemão, mas consigo reconhecê-lo com seus auf’s e ne’s).  E nesse momento o inesperado aconteceu: Berta olhou pra mim e faz uma cara de reprovação para o barulho que a turca estava fazendo. Chegou a trazer um leve sorriso nos lábios. Eu, claro, retribuí com um olhar de desapontamento. Expressei naquele olhar todo o indignamento que eu conseguia sentir pela pobre moça das sobrancelhas grossas. Afinal, quem era ela pra pensar que tinha o direito de fazer barulho num ambiente público? Nesse instante, senti que eu e Berta finalmente estabelecemos uma conexão. Pensei por alguns segundos se deveria puxar papo, falando “Tá quente hoje, né?”. Mas recuei. Melhor um pássaro na mão do que dois voando.

Um beijo,

Gustavofsc

About friendships and complaining




Berlin, August 22 2012

Dear Diary,

Who would have imagined that things would be simpler than I expected. When I first arrived here, I knew that a whole new world would start for me, for sure. Food, punctuality, language… I was ready for all that. But now I notice that you can’t be ready for all novelties. They come to you, without warning, in a train ride in a Tuesday afternoon. As I just sit there, doing nothing, the novelty comes and sits right next to me. And, not having anything else to do, I just look at her and give her my attention. And this is how I meet the German silence. Have you ever heard of it? Well, I hadn’t. And I must tell you that I would never imagine how Germany can be so naturally silent. It is like I woke up in a primary school teacher’s dream (I am sure they imagine the silence I have here, every time they have to control 20 very talkative students in a classroom).
So, imagine with me how it is to be in a train station with, let’s say, 40 people. And all of them are in silence… So, this is it. Most people are reading a book, or listening to music. But even those who don’t have any kind of entertainment still keep waiting in silence. No cell phones, no whistling… If you are chatting with a friend, you do it in a very inaudible tone. And then, all that it is left is silence… But, as everything in life comes in pairs, like winter and summer, salt and sugar, Madonna and Cher, silence here also finds its counterpoint: my good Moabit friends, Turkish descendant Germans.
Last week I had to register myself at the neighborhood city hall. Yes, because here all citizens register themselves, giving their address to the neighborhood office. I had to wait for my appointment in this waiting room together with other 80 people. It was so hot, then! It was as hot as Brazil! But I believe it was worst here, because, in Brazil, when it is so hot, we just look to the person sitting next to us and complain, like it would make a difference (and it does!). You ask someone to open the door, or even (crazy!) you use the form you are supposed to handle to the officer as a fan… And, I don’t know why, it makes us feel better. But when you have to heroically go through the hot temperature, without speaking, without complaining to strangers, without trying to fix the weather… Well, it gets harder. And I believe that, being inside a building designed to face Siberian winters doesn’t help either.
Well, there I was, silently fighting against the hotness and waiting for my number to be called, when a cellphone rang. The music was really loud and, for me, a foreign to everything, it resembled a Bollywood song. The blond woman sitting next to me (I believe she could be a “Bertha”) didn’t like that at all. Bertha looked at the young girl with disapproval in her eyes. The girl, whose cellphone was still ringing, was brunet and used a veil in her head. She didn’t even pay attention to any reaction around her, as she looked for the cellphone inside her bag (and the Bollywood song was almost getting to its end). The music was actually really cool and I almost started clapping my hands, but I decided not to. Bertha might not like it.
Finally, the brunet girl found her cellphone and answered it. She started speaking very loudly, even for Brazilian standards in a language that wasn’t German. And then, the unexpected happened: Bertha looked at me and clenched her lips, disapproving the funny mess that was happening next to us. Of course, I gladly paid her back the confidence she gave me by also clenching my lips, trying to look disappointed by all that noise. Bertha even tried a shy smile. And I really liked that moment. I believe that now Bertha and me could finally inaugurate our friendship and start complaining about how hot the room was. But then, I stepped back. I mean, a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, right?

Yours,

Gustavofsc

domingo, 14 de abril de 2013

Where there is sun, this is where I am going...

Berlin, january 29 2013



Today, I saw the sun after a long time without it...

I was at the subway and, after silently sitting in my place, taking care not to establish any visual contact with anybody, I opened my book. Today I started reading again "The unbearable lightness of being". The woman sitting next to me smiled and said "que legal".

I looked at her and smiled back. And I asked if she had enjoyed the book. And that was it! I spent the next 10 minutes getting to know Isabela, who moved from São Paulo to Berlin, with her husband, one and a half year ago. In those ten minutes she told me about her soon to be borne child, about her new life here, about how difficult it is to learn psychology in German. Se even touched me in my arm, can you believe it?

When the voice announced it was her station, se smiled again and told me it had being a pleasure to talk to me.

No. We did not exchange contacts. I don't even know her last name.

But I am happy, because today I saw the sun after several long winter days!

Onde tenha sol, é pra lá que vou... (a Brazilian song that says: where there is sun, this is where I am going...).

sábado, 13 de abril de 2013

Onde tenha sol, é pra lá que vou...

Berlim, 29 de janeiro de 2013


Hoje vi o sol depois de muito tempo.
Estava no metrô e, após me sentar em silêncio, cuidando para não estabelecer contato visual com ninguém, abri meu livro. Comecei hoje a ler novamente "A Insustentável Leveza do Ser".
A mulher ao meu lado sorriu e disse: "que legal".
Eu olhei para ela e sorri de volta e perguntei se ela havia gostado. E pronto! Foram 10 minutos de conversa em que conheci a Isabela, que veio de São Paulo acompanhar seu marido e está aqui há 1 ano e sete meses. Nesses dez minutos ela me contou sobre o filho que está esperando, sobre a nova vida aqui, sobre como é difícil estudar psicologia em alemão. Ela até tocou no meu braço, acredita?
Quando chegou à estação dela, ela sorriu pra mim e disse que havia sido muito bom conversar comigo.
Não. Não trocamos contatos. Nem mesmo sei seu sobrenome.
Mas estou feliz porque hoje eu vi o sol depois de muitos dias de inverno!

Onde tenha sol, é pra lá que vou...