Semente

On Love

" Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses. You build up a whole armor, for years, so nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life... You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' or 'how very perceptive' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. Nothing should be able to do that. Especially not love. I hate love."

o The character "Rose Walker" in The Sandman #65

Impressions

impression |imˈpre sh ən|
noun
1 an idea, feeling, or opinion about something or someone, esp. one formed without conscious thought or on the basis of little evidence

Esta es para ti, Cariño.

All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to
It's true...I was made for you
I climbed across the mountain tops
Swam all across the ocean blue
I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules
But baby I broke them all for you
Because even when I was flat broke
You made me feel like a million bucks
You do
I was made for you
You see the smile that's on my mouth
It's hiding the words that don't come out
And all of my friends who think that I'm blessed
They don't know my head is a mess
No, they don't know who I really am
And they don't know what
I've been through like you do
And I was made for you...
All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to
It's true...I was made for you

Brandi Carlile

You could be happy

You could be happy and I won't know
But you weren't happy the day I watched you go

And all the things that I wished I had not said
Are played in loops 'till it's madness in my head

Is it too late to remind you how we were
But not our last days of silence, screaming, blur

Most of what I remember makes me sure
I should have stopped you from walking out the door

You could be happy, I hope you are
You made me happier than I'd been by far

Somehow everything I own smells of you
And for the tiniest moment it's all not true

Do the things that you always wanted to
Without me there to hold you back, don't think, just do

More than anything I want to see you, girl
Take a glorious bite out of the whole world

Fire inside

Theres a hard moon risin on the streets tonight
Theres a reckless feeling in your heart as you head out tonight
Through the concrete canyons to the midtown light
Where the latest neon promises are burning bright

Past the open windows on the darker streets
Where unseen angry voices flash and children cry
Past the phony posers with their worn out lines
The tired new money dressed to the nines
The low life dealers with their bad designs
And the dilettantes with their open minds

Youre out on the town, safe in the crowd
Ready to go for the ride
Searching the eyes, looking for clues
Theres no way you can hide
The fire inside

Well youve been to the clubs and the discotheques
Where they deal one another from the bottom of a deck of promises
Where the cautious loners and emotional wrecks
Do an acting stretch as a way to hide the obvious
And the lights go down and they dance real close
And for one brief instant they pretend theyre safe and warm

Then the beat gets louder and the mood is gone
The darkness scatters as the lights flash on
They hold one another just a little too long
And they move apart and then move on

On to the street, on to the next
Safe in the knowledge that they tried
Faking the smile, hiding the pain
Never satisfied
The fire inside
Fire inside

Now the hour is late and he thinks youre asleep
You listen to him dress and you listen to him leave
Like you knew he would
You hear his car pull away in the street
Then you move to the door and you lock it when
Hes gone for good

Then you walk to the window and stare at the moon
Riding high and lonesome through a starlit sky
And it comes to you how it all slips away
Youth and beauty are gone one day
No matter what you dream or feel or say
It ends in dust and disarray

Like wind on the plains, sand through the glass
Waves rolling in with the tide
Dreams die hard and we watch them erode
But we cannot be denied
The fire inside

-Bob Seger.

Your Choices...

...are half chance. Just like everybody else's.

Existentialism

What is the meaning of life?

Sunset on the Tagus 2

Sunset on the Tagus

Tirar conclusões

A realidade é algo difícil de definir. Se optarmos por “descrevê-la” de forma, enfim, tradicional, empírica, segundo o modelo Objecto-Observador, então deixamos de fora certos conceitos. Conceitos como a virtualidade. Se a realidade é o mundo mensurável, então a virtualidade deverá ser o oposto. Algo que não conseguimos tocar, sentir. Ou seja, segundo os modelos seguidos à milénios, a virtualidade não existe. É algo imaginado!

E a Realidade Virtual? Que dizer dessa senhora que nos dias que correm, tanto botão faz premir? A conjunção das duas palavras: Realidade e Virtual, num só termo, aponta para uma objectivação da virtualidade. Como que a reforçar a sua existência. Ou antes, a sua não-existência.

O perigo eminente para a humanidade não é o aquecimento global. Não é a escassez de recursos ou população excessiva. É sim a Realidade Virtual. Esta desumanizadora imparável leva-nos para mais longe da Natureza. Para mais longe de nós próprios.

Isso ou os modelos tradicionais estão incompletos.

The coldest I've been

New Liskeard, Canada.

Tegucigalpa

Cidade deprimente num país em "desenvolvimento" explorado pelas maquilas de países mais "avançados".

Monologo

Que será que procuras?

Não sei. Só sei que tenho muitas perguntas.

Que perguntas?

Bem, o costume, tentar fazer sentido disto tudo.

Ah sim? E que tal?

Bem, não tenho grandes conclusões. Por vezes é tudo tão claro. Tão impírico. E depois...

E depois...?

E depois lá aparece ele outra vez. Estraga tudo. Estava tudo tão claro, tão simples, tão... definido.

Ele quem?

Tu sabes, ele...

Ah! Certo. Já sei. O Amor. E então?

Pois, não sei. Fica tudo um caos. Fico sem direcção. Assim como o Régio. E sabe bem. Parece uma saída.

Saída?

Sim. Como que uma porta. Uma libertação. Saber...

Saber? Saber o quê?

Saber que ela está.

Ah...Ela... e basta? Basta saberes que ela está?

Sim. Por vezes está “ocupada”, mas chega-me. Chega-me saber que está ocupada. Longe, distante, ocupada... mas está.

Сибирь

The Novosibirsk opera and ballet theater, just across the road from the office building where I write this from.

A long time

Well it's been a long time, long time now
since I've seen you smile
and I'll gamble away my fright
and I'll gamble away my time
and in a year, a year or so
this will slip into the sea
well it's been a long time, long time now
since I've seen you smile

nobody raise their voices
just another night to mourn to
nobody raise their voices
just another night to mourn to

No Secret

Secret heart
What are you made of
What are you so afraid of
Could it be
Three simple words
Or the fear of being overheard
What's wrong

Let em' in on your secret heart

Secret Heart
Why so mysterious
Why so sacred
Why so serious
Maybe you're
Just acting tough
Maybe you're just not man enough
What's wrong

Let em' in on your secret heart

This very secret
That you're trying to conceal
Is the very same one
That You're dying to reveal
Go tell her how you feel

Secret heart come out and share it
This loneliness, few can bear it
Could it have something to do with
Admitting that you just can't go through it alone?

Let em' in on your secret heart

This very secret
That you're trying to conceal
Is the very same one
That you're dying to reveal
Go tell her how you feel
This very secret heart

Go out and share it
This very secret heart

finalmente,

Fausto | Por este rio acima

CD1

1. É o mar que nos chama
2. O barco vai de saída
3. Porque não me vês
4. A guerra é a guerra
5. De um miserável naufrágio que passámos
6. Como um sonho acordado
7. A ilha
8. A voar por cima das águas
9. Olha o fado

CD2

1. Por este rio acima
2. O cortejo dos penitentes
3. O romance de Diogo Soares
4. Navegar, navegar
5. O que a vida me deu
6. Lembra-me um sonho lindo
7. Quando às vezes ponho diante dos olhos

Carpe diem

To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry:
For having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.

All special people/ Tudo gente especial

é só isso / não tem mais jeito / acabou, boa sorte. não tenho o que dizer / são só palavras / e o que eu sinto / não mudará. tudo o que quer me dar / é demais / é pesado / não há paz. tudo o que quer de mim / irreais / expectativas / desleais. that’s it / there is no way / it over, good luck. i have nothing left to say / it’s only words / and what i feel / won’t change. tudo o que quer me dar [everything you want to give me] / é demais [it too much] / é pesado [it’s heavy] / não há paz [there is no peace]. tudo o que quer de mim [all you want from me] / irreais [isn't real] / expectativas [expectations] / desleais. mesmo, se segure / quero que se cure / dessa pessoa / que o aconselha. há um desencontro / veja por esse ponto / há tantas pessoas especiais. now even if you hold yourself / i want you to get cured / from this person / who poisoned you. there is a disconnection / see through this point of view / there are so many special people in the world / so many special people in the world / in the world / all you want / all you want. tudo o que quer me dar [everything you want to give me] / é demais [it too much] / é pesado [it’s heavy] / não há paz [there is no peace]. tudo o que quer de mim [all you want from me] / irreais [isn't real] / expectativas [expectations] / desleais. now were falling into the night / um bom encontro é de dois.

Yearning

Somewhere, beyond the sea
Somewhere waiting for me
My lover stands on golden sands
And watches the ships that go sailing

Somewhere, beyond the sea
She's there watching for me
If I could fly like birds on high
Then straigt to her arms I'd go sailing

It's far beyond a star,
it's near beyond the moon
I know beyond a doubt
My heart will lead me there soon

We'll meet beyond the shore
We'll kiss just like before
Happy we'll be beyond the sea
And never again I'll go sailing
Some sailing

I know beyond a doubt
My heart will lead me there soon
We'll meet I know we'll meet
Beyond the sure
We'll kiss just like before
Happy we'll be beyond the sea
And never again I'll go sailing
No more sailing
So long sailing
Goodby farewell, my friend,
No more Sailing....

Taj Mahal

My latest trip has taken me back to India and has left me once again in awe at not only the human condition of one fifth of the world's population, but also the marvel of marvels: the Taj Mahal. There have been monuments before and certainly will be monuments after but this is the one building that has to be seen to be taken in completely. Photographs do it no justice at all and although the temperature was in the high thirties (centigrade) shivers were felt in the presence of this true wonder.

The trip from Delhi took over fours hours in an air conditioned "luxury" car. Breakfast at 7am consisted of 600ml of cool local beer and some "funny" cigarettes... so, feeling high and happy, we drove through the conundrum that is the Indian highway, with cows, buffaloes, donkeys and camels sharing the road with Rickshaws, small city cars and trucks. Traffic rules? forget that. At one stage we were on the "other" side of the road with oncoming traffic. Everything flows, even if occasionally the obvious accident proves that even Indian driving philosophy is prone to "hick ups".

After visiting one or two temples, we finally arrive in Agra. A dusty, dirty place where lies the Taj. On approaching the Taj, only electric vehicles are allowed so we changed into a battery operated rickshaw. We went through the northern entrance, which is supposedly reserved for VIPs and arrived at an outer courtyard readying ourselves for a step into the gardens that surround the Taj. The place is bustling with people, even though it is low season, given the heat. I'd hate to see this in peak season.

The whole area is symmetrical, with one exception, which my guide told me and got me very curious. I'll not let it out here. I'll also not say anymore about the Taj itself, only that whoever reads this, should consider putting the Taj Mahal high on their priority list of things to see before you die.

This is Bhoop Singh, my friend/driver/guide from Rajastan, taking a rest on the way back to Delhi at a roadside bar/café.

Travels thus far

create your own visited countries map

A perfect day

Few are those days when one can truly say that it is worth breathing. Today, was one such day. Great, no, wonderful weather, good company and perfect sailing on a pretty boat make up the ingredients for a good time.

Random love

This post is dedicated to all those people that cross my path and share a momentary love with me. To those fleeting moments of free caress and tenderness that are all too few in this ever lonelier life.

Thought of the day

"Lindor(50): women are expensive and high maintenance (no offense zyla) - your better off with a good book, a few beers and the occasional hooker"*

*-From a discussion on FICS.

Thanks broe*

A sense of nostalgia by DiCaprio's accent, a sense of indentity with "TIA"...

* - "Broe" is short for broeder, which means brother in Afrikaans

On beliefs

Beliefs are dangerous.
Beliefs allow the mind to stop functioning.
A non-functioning mind is clinically dead.
Believe in nothing.

Travels thus far

create your own visited countries map

Obrigado pelo llink, Elsa.

Não vou por aí!

A minha vida é um vendaval que se soltou.
É uma onda que se alevantou.
É um átomo a mais que se animou...
Não sei por onde vou,
Não sei para onde vou,
– Sei que não vou por aí!

Jingle Bells

Yeah, I guess you could say that I've lost the christmas spirit.

Damn.

San Francisco

If I had to choose one city to live in... this would be it.

Jamaica

O que dizer desta terra?

Não posso falar do que não vi. Não vi as praias de areia branca. Não vi o pôr do sol de um hotel com vista para o mar numa praia paradisíaca. Vi o pôr do sol de um hotel no centro de Kingston com vista para o porto da cidade, que diga-se, é tudo menos paradisíaca.

Depois de andar quatro horas à descoberta em S.Petersburgo uma semana antes, tentei obviamente o mesmo feito esperando poder conhecer melhor este local tropical.

Bastou-me uma volta ao quarteirão.

Longe da imagem publicitada pelas agências de turismo, a realidade aqui é bem diferente. A pobreza é geral e na generalidade, crónica. Bairros de lata com condições..., enfim, de bairros de lata. Estradas cheias de buracos. Quando chove! é o caos total: as àguas das chuvas fazem das estradas rios.

Problemas com crime, tráfego e passagem de droga e desemprego fazem desta sociedade uma de constante luta pela sobrevivência.

Blue jeans never looked so good

I can't say that my first impression of Russia was a pleasant one. The morning spent handing in papers at the consulate in Lisbon reminded me that the country was not too long ago in the hands of the king of bureaucratic systems.

Yet, upon arrival at the airport in St. Petersburg, that impression immediately started to change. A race into town in a taxi (got ripped off with 4 times the regular fair...), quickly let that first impression vanish. The city is the biggest metropolis so far north in the world. After settling in at the hotel, I started out on a four hour trek through the city and trying to stay close to the river, the Neva, walked through quite a few places which left me most impressed.

Indeed the whole city feels like one huge monument and while being dubbed the Venice of the North it has a personality of it's own. Not only does it dwarf its Italian counterpart in sheer size, but the whole planning of the city is a lot more organized. Not that that makes the peak hour traffic any better, for in this sense St. Petersburg rivals any other metropolis too, but it just feels like the city was pre-planned, and it was.

Again, walking for four hours doesn't cover much in a city of that size but the sights are truly worth seeing, and although it isn't a tourist friendly town (try getting into the subway without knowing how to read the Cyrillic alphabet, let alone understand the Russian language...) it is one that I definitely recommend.

I came away feeling that Russia is indeed a very developed country, although I'm sure in other, perhaps interior regions, the same can't be said. Plagued by corruption, it has managed to come away from the hindering system that made it into a world power, although it does let me feel a little cheated. The level of education is of course very high, yet the Russian population could not learn from the mistakes of other democratic countries and has also fallen prone to the shortcomings of this system.

Wind*

In some movie, some character talks about a man somewhere with a hole in his heart, a hole he had to fill by building a totem pole which he would erect to fill the void. And let him sleep.

Truth is, once this hole gets installed, it can’t ever be filled again. Like a black hole, it sucks everything in. Until the very memories that make up the soul are sucked in and the very reason that created the hole vanishes, wiping out the self.

In a desperate attempt to hold on to some kind of reality, the body is pushed by the mind to follow helpless, hopeless dreams, in the hope that perhaps those dreams would make sense of the senseless existence that comes about when, this hole appears.

And how hard does the mind try to wipe out the incomprehensible aspect that led to the hole in the first place! How it connives to reduce to mathematical, logical reasoning that which it cannot even begin to fathom.

How it tries to apply ideological reductions with allusions to “complete freedom” and how this unfathomable condition enslaves, imprisons and so is “unnatural”.

But alas! Never can it win. Never can it succeed. For the hole is there.

Like the wind that cannot be seen.

*Note: Delayed post from 21 Oct 2006

I wish I was watching*

Sitting here, in this hotel room in the middle of nowhere, things clear up for a while. The conclusion has been reached that you were always an excuse to end relationships, for everyone else was always going to be compared to you, and of course never live up to the challenge.

Silly notion obviously, since no two human beings are alike and each has his/her qualities and flaws. Yet so is this mind. How feeble to think that the condition induced by you could be replicated. As if it were some kind of chess game where you could just resign and start over. Ha!

The future? Who knows... Looking at the past to know who we are can help, I suppose. But at least the conclusion has been reached. You were the excuse. And always will be.

Yet this moment of clarity is passing. And again the fog that clouds the heart is coming in. I wish I could say, as the song that repeats endlessly in the background:”Every move you make, Every vow you break,… I’ll be watching you,…, Every breath you take, Every move you make…, I’ll me watching you…”

*Note: Delayed post from 21 Oct 2006

Airport lounges

About a year ago I had just returned from a fantastic trip to China. Two years back, Ghana changed the way I see the world. Now, at the outset of a new adventure, I sit at the airport lounge in Lisbon contemplating life as usual.

The taxi conversation on the way here was, not surprisingly, about the weather, and how that has changed too. Just one of those topics that have become routine, bland. It used to be that talking about the weather was an ice breaker (no pun intended), now, climate change has taken that spot.

Looking at the courtesy magazine for the flight, I see that someone has up and gone do what has been at the back of my mind for some time now: move off to some 3rd world country, break away from the “developed” world. Kind of makes me feel cheated. But I suppose, again, it’s no surprise: when the going gets tough, the tough get going (oh how I hate clichés).

On the omnipresent and omnipotent TV screen, some music channel is playing scantly clad women trying very hard to transmit some kind of emotion that I can’t exactly figure out.

The overhead speaker blurs something about some flight to some destination.

The wait. The endless waiting. How I hate airport lounges.

Golfinhos no Tejo

Depois de um fim-de-semana de vela, Sábado solitário e Domingo com o João (não, não o Semente), confesso que não posso deixar passar sem escrever umas palavritas acerca das aventuras no Tejo.

Como já disse, a saída no Sábado foi solitária, o que aumenta sempre as sensações, desde o sair ao regresso somos presenciados com enumeras tarefas que com um ou mais companheiros parecem menores, mas que a sós necessitam de um esforço, ou talvez atenção, redobrados. Com farto vento, ao ponto do poste que segurava a bandeira ter sido literalmente arrancado do barco, o passeio foi excitante. Nada melhor para nos trazer à realidade depois de mais uma semana fora em trabalho.

Domingo foi um dia preenchido. Começando pela manhã com a falta de uma bandeira, requisito obrigatório para se poder navegar num qualquer porto nacional. Pois após ter comprado o dito icone num quiosque por um preço, que enfim, nem vou mencionar, lá saímos Tejo abaixo com o pouco e fraco vento que havia. E durante a maior parte do dia seria este o seu comportamento. Com a calmaria, deixamo-nos levar com a corrente que estava a vazar.

A certa altura, começamos a avistar uma das boias da entrada da barra e dado o lento andamento causado pela maré, nem pensamos que podessemos estar em rota de collisão. Mas enfim, erro de percepção, pois aos poucos lá nos fomos chegando à dita boia até esta roçar no casco. E diga-se, aquelas boias são bastante pesadas.

Passado este primeiro acontecimento, lá fomos indo mais uma vez com a maré e com o fraco vento que se ia fazendo notar esporadicamente. Para nosso espanto, começamos a avistar golfinhos a escassos metros do barco. Um verdadeiro espectáculo, pois estes brindaram-nos com os seus repetidos saltos, fluidos e harmoniosos. Pena não haver registo fotográfico, mas fica sem dúvida a memória: golfinhos no Tejo.

Tempo também ontem para fundear. Pela primeira vez largou-se o ferro, lá perto do Bugio. Largou-se o segundo também para descargo de consciência. Uma vez convencidos que não estavamos a ser levados pela maré, passamos ao almoço. Também um acontecimento digno de registo, ver o Bugio ali perto, almoço no Tejo.

Depois de almoçados, lá levantamos os ferros, altura em que o suporte do motor fora de bordo se entorta, deixando-nos quase sem meios mecânicos para navegar, o que diga-se, nesta fase de aprendizagem teria sido complicado, pois mesmo já tendo alguma experiência abordo, com falta de vento e sem os remos preparados, teria sido perigoso. Mas enfim, com alguma proeza e uns cabos aqui e ali, lá se conseguiu endireitar o supporte e ter mais uma vez o para já ainda fundamental auxilio motor.

Com o calor abrazador, lá fomos mais uma vez com as velas a abanar, com a maré. A certa altura torna-se de facto deseperante a calmaria. Pensa-se em tudo: esperar que venha o vento, deixar o barco em Cascais pois seria demasiado longe para o motor relativamente fraco nos levar de volta a Belem, esperar que a maré vire e nos ajude a voltar, pensa-se no infinito mar, na noite, pois se esta chegar seria também novidade para nós (navegar á noite).

Mas certo é que, com o entardecer lá se levantou a nortada. E eis que depois de sete horas à deriva, fizemos uma verdadeira corrida de regresso à doca em apenas hora e meia. Com a maré e o vento a ajudar, velas bem afinadas e o zelo de querer chegar mais uma vez a terra.

Caso para dizer, "Porque haveria de ter saudades tuas, ao longo de um claro rio de água doce"...

Piatsa and a hangover

If you're looking for a typical Munich restaurant to eat at, try the Piatsa on Leopoldstrasse. Its a great greek place that used to have belly-dancing on the tables, plate bashing and Zorba the greek collective dancing. They don't have it anymore because of safety issues, but you can still get good food there.

The hangover? Oh yeah, I've got one today and it sucks. I suppose that's one way of measuring how good the previous night was??!! whatever. It still sucks today.

Munich

Starting the series on visited countries/cities with Munich. A cosmopolitan town, with its own rhythm, and although it isn't snowing today (actually its a sunny spell breaking the rainy days of late), this is the famous Glockenspiel on Marienplatz.

Change

It has been a while since I've payed any major attention to this here virtual repository of ideas, experiences with my son, political ideology, social criticism and general nonsense.

The reasons, as always, are several: construction/alteration work on the appartment, new job, lack of interest in conveying any of the above info to a hypothetical crowd (even though I know that a couple of friends do loose their time in reading this space). Easy to find reasons for the absence...

The fact is though, that this blog is also a space that mirrors personal development and the last few months have been of particular introspective analysis, times which always warrant a certain isolation and lack of will to communicate.

The time has come again to change. Those "clever" little aphorisms are going to be inserted into a post. Any new aphorisms will be posted. I'm also not going to tell you anymore to stop watching TV. This is not going to be an "evangelical" site anymore (lol...).

My work on my boat will be posted as I get the will to do it. I'll try to get some pictures going.

Since I'm travelling again, a new section about the cities I visit should appear. If only as a memory hole.

The phylosophy of having links on a blog to ensure that we are someone in this virtual world is also going to change.

And that's it. I don't want to make the mistake of promissing myself too much and then not come through.

Terra Ardente

Mesmo antes que acabe de ouvir escrevo algumas palavras sobre este trabalho, esta obra, que me levou durante hora e tal ou mais, numa viagem pelos sonhos e sofrimentos dos navegantes, navegados, duma época longinqua que ainda hoje tem um encanto, um fascinio - pelo menos para mim - enorme.

Obrigado amigo pela pequena amostra que me fez água na boca, e que agora bebo em grandes goles. Fazendo o percurso ao contrário, por assim dizer, começando pela "Obra Mágica", e, agora com as "Crónicas", veremos se consigo chegar "Por este rio acima"...

Nem sei qual devo mencionar, mas talvez o pobre Sepúlveda (até porque hà muito tempo também estive alojado numa Sepulveda Boulevard lá para os lados de Santa Monica):

por aqueles matos tão adentro
sem chorar
nem dizer coisa alguma
tão adentro
partiste p'ra sempre
sozinho
Sepúlveda

Miami

Miami veio revelar-se uma agradável surpresa. Fechando os olhos - e é difícil fazê-lo - à opulencia, à riqueza exagerada, desproporcional (não é sempre?) da maioria das gentes nesta zona preveligiada que é Miami Beach, pode-se apreciar um ambiente descontraido, de verdadeiro ritmo latino e com as inegáveis influências cubanas e das Caraíbas em geral.

Passear por Ocean Drive é um verdadeiro ataque aos sentidos: os olhos são brindados com uma arquitectura "arte deco" (o hotel Delano sendo um dos expoentes máximos) e os sons e cheiros dos restaurantes populados pelas gentes referidas anteriormente convidam ao prazer aqueles que, enfim, podem.

De dia, a paisagem de água a rodear as ilhas e a servir de "quintal" para inumeras "casinhas" completas com o respectivo lugar de estacionamento para o transporte maritimo (muitos destes preenchidos...), vulgo yacht, faz com que o passeio pela Venetian Causeway seja obrigatório a caminho de down-town.

O tempo, tropical, ora chove torrencialmente ora faz sol abrasador, humidade - constante.

4th of July

Writing from the land of Uncle Sam has left me with a confirmation of how I saw this land before crossing the atlantic a third time. A people so diverse as the geographical scope of the boundaries they reside in and the origins of their forefathers. Truelly a land where anyone's ideology can be acomodated in one or other comunity, there being space for them all.

Still, like a giant sitting back on his couch eating himself to death, this is the land of the SUV, the land of granny-drives-a-5-litre-"truck"-out-to-do-her-shopping, the land of car culture, a culture so dependent on their private transportation that makes the 4th of July seem like a silly idea.

And it seems like their oversized cars have lead them to "grow" into obese samples of homo-sapiens, there being a real problem in the country in this respect. Still, it's hardly surprising when you consider that any food portion served would suffice for a family of more frugal eaters. And when you have to drive to anywhere you're going, that accumulated, undigested food tends to, well, accumulate.

Still, you have to wonder how long this empire of consumerism will remain comfortable in its couch, feeding on itself, and what it will do when it realises that it's too fat to get up and confront those cultures that are leaner and with a completely different mindset.

Ausência

Qualquer dia isto fica mesmo tudo vermelho, preto e... cinza.

Ou talvez não. Talvez não.

Change

I won't talk about the oppression felt in a company that is the perfect marriage between savage capitalism and slave driving communism. I won't talk about the injustice and inequalities that arise in a business startup environment or about the fact that "in Rome do as the romans do" but when the romans come they do like they do in Rome. I won't talk about the "little" irony of the office floor being located in a building smack in between the US embassy and an office of the communist party, both places "proudly" hoisting their flags. No. These things are of little importance.

I will talk about change and how it can be liberating. How it can feel like a dense fog lifting, the sun rising, or a fresh breeze after a long period of stagnant calm. How the words of friends can be a herald to the direction one should take. Because sometimes our friends know us better than we know ourselves. Or perhaps they only give us that little push that we need, to do what we've always known needs to be done. Whichever the case, change allows us to see where we stand, where we've been and provides a chance to choose where to go next. And it is this choice that is so akin to complete freedom. Knowing that you can really choose what to do with yourself.

1ª Regata... quase.

Não fosse o vento, ou antes, a falta dele, hoje teria sido a primeira regata. No barco do vizinho, a convite dele, entenda-se.

Your life ending

You remember clearly when you were about six years old and had chicken pox.

Now your son has it.

What log?

This is suppose to be about sailing. So a post about sailing then.

Went out yestarday. Wind was breezy and the sky partly cloudy. Because of the full moon, we caught waves of about 3 meters, making me feel seasick.

On the way back in, lost the (only) winch handle - a contribution to Neptune.

Engine started smoking heavily and constantly - nearing its end perhaps.

Some repairs done today.

Blues

As I sink deeper into this new year's depression, I can't help but cling to little things like... uumm.., well..., like... humm... there are no little things to cling to. I'm just sinking.

Good grief.

First post 2006

On one episode of Garfield, the lazy fat cat sits on a couch with a droopy face and sighs: "Oh boy I'm bored...". While he says this, he uses one of his claws to open a hole in the couch, bringing the stuffing out onto the floor, effectively maming the couch.

How many are out there feeling just like that? Even on New Year's eve and day...??

'Can't help but fall into a depressive state when someone say's that while going to the local supermarket to buy some groceries, the place of origin of a stem of garlic is... China!

Or the 10 second countdown clock cleverly using a publicity stunt to promote a brand of beer... (humm, dejavu).

Or going to work early on Monday for some big ass corporation who doesn't give a rat's ass about its workers.

Or sitting in trafic to get there because of some stupid accident blocking the motorway.

AAAAGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!

Hell of a way to start.

Açores

Não deixem que a sobriedade desta imagem vos leve a pensar que neste local não há cor. Pois se há sitio que ficará na memória pelos seus verdes pastos e montes suaves serão os Açores. Nove ilhas (das quais apenas consegui visitar 5) no meio do nada que é o imenso oceano atlantico com um clima que até em finais de Novembro deixava andar de T-Shirt (e só não digo de calção pois não os levei) e um ritmo próprio de quem quer viver... lentamente. O pior transito que se verificou foi numa estrada secundária lá nas entrenhas de São Miguel onde umas vaquinhas leiteiras de aspecto saudável faziam a transição de pasto...

Recomendo vivamente.

A taste of India

A glimpse of India through Crossplanet. Really nice photos.

China Memories 6

China Memories 5

Macao

Now Macao had been a Portuguese colony until 1999, whence it completed its 500 year contract and was turned over, once again, to Chinese administration. 500 years, however, does leave its mark on a place and the cultural contrast here is even greater than in Hong Kong. Traditional Portuguese architecture is mixed with local Asian design and the effect is stunning. Having lived in Portugal for some time now, it kind of felt like a home away from home. Even though I was only there for a few hours. A must visit is the Macao Tower, for a 338 meter “bird’s eye view” of the area. Breathtaking.

China Memories 4

Hong Kong

Having had a brief glimpse of Hong Kong on the bus ride from the airport to Shenzhen (and of course the idea one gets from movies) I was anxious to discover the city. I was not disappointed. The first impression you get is one of complete awe at the skyline. the number of skyscrapers is really amazing. Yet the best regarding the skyline was yet to come. The next thing that gets you is the amazing mixture of people. Of course the British influence is still felt with whole pub culture and drinks in the middle of the afternoon bit. But it is really a crossroads between East and West, and the ethnic groups walking the streets really make Hong Kong a melting pot.

At night the city transforms itself into a dazzling show of neon lights and the skyscrapers come alive. At eight o’clock every evening residents and visitors are graced with a symphony of light as the main buildings shoot their lasers into the night sky in a coordinated manner. On special occasions there is a complementary fireworks display as well. Truly beautiful, particularly when seen from the Kowloon (northern part of the territory, linked to mainland china) area, as the sea reflects the lights from above. Although i didn’t see much more of Hong Kong, I did get the main feel for the place. People were generally friendly and there was a stark contrast with the mood in Shenzhen. Like a kind of weight is lifted from your shoulders...

China Memories 3

Window of the World

This theme park looked at first sight like “just another theme park”. but the experience quickly transformed itself from “just another theme park visit” to “I want to go to all these places”! As a true window of world cultural heritage, Window of the World presents its visitors with scaled down versions of most of the well known global attractions. Some of which I have visited, but many which I had no idea of. The result was a desire, a burning desire, to go to all those attractions. A desire to travel and see and contact with the cultures on display. This I think is the best compliment that can be given to a place like this: that it makes you want to go to all those sites depicted there.

China Memories 2

On the beach

After a week of “cultural” training, where we were presented with the company’s code of conduct, an outing was arranged together with a few other departments to go to the beach. This would turn out to be a great day. Not only was everyone very friendly, but there was a wholesome atmosphere in the air. A kind of harmony that just was not apparent during work hours. We all sat round barbecue tables in groups of ten or so and basically everyone cooked the food they wanted to eat. Communication was sometimes difficult but all in all, everyone made themselves understood. Besides lunch, the day was spent with beach activities including volley ball, soccer, tug of war, card games and of course swimming in the warm waters of the south China Sea. Dinner was held at a restaurant close to the beach where we had traditional Chinese dishes – all very delicious.

China Memories

Either for lack of time or simply for being engulfed in the whole experience that was China, the chronicles were not realized. However, I do think it appropriate to write down some of the memories now, as a reminder to myself of the wonderfully different culture that is China.

I entered China through its southern “gate”: Shenzhen, a bordering city with Hong Kong. On leaving Hong Kong airport one is presented with many a skyscraper of apartment building. Definitely a city that would require a mandatory visit... Had it not been for that initial sight, Shenzhen would have been impressive in itself as a city of many high rise buildings. A modern industrious city, it is a showcase for China’s rapidly increasing development and economy. And whoever enters through here is bound to think that they are entering into a highly developed and modern society. Yet this is far from the truth. I would come to realize that this facade was built up to present the western, developed countries with an interface that would allow for interaction at both business and social level. That, and a special zone where local private initiative might have an opportunity to flourish.

The corporation I work for is something of a mirror of the state run country. New local employees are required to undergo and initial training that among other things includes a military discipline not much different to that of the official army: lining up in platoons and shouting out replies to what I’m sure are orders or strong words of encouragement from some superior. This was somewhat of a surprise as on the first day I arrived at the hotel complex (which belongs to the company) I heard these shouts and wondered: “Where am I?”. It soon became common though, seeing new colleagues lined in platoons being marched on to whatever it was that their “tutors” were saying.

Post insignificante

São 2:20 da manhã e não consigo dormir. Numa noite rara de insónia, vontade de escrever um post insignificante.

E pronto. Aqui está.

China

Having traveled quite often at the company i previously worked for allowed me to see a few European cities. I suppose you could say that I’ve seen my fair share of neat, tidy, organized “1st” world capitals. But one trip changed me. It happened as I was going through a particular moment of personal change and it not only intensified that change but opened my eyes to the reality of a large portion of a population that lives on the threshold of survival. Ghana. Being a third world country was quite a shock in comparison to all those “clean” European hubs.

Times got tough and I left that company.

Another opportunity presented itself and I’m now under the employment of a major Chinese multinational. An initial training is normal and as I write this I am on my way to China to receive this training. An affair that will last a month.

This is then an attempt to record the experiences of this trip that I expect will be somewhat on the same level of personal impression as Ghana was.

Back into the water

It’s been a while but i think it’s time to log another entry here.

OK, first things first. “Navegante” is finally back in the water again and has been the source of great emotion on the first two sailing outings I've had so far.

A laborious month went quickly by with every bit of spare time spent in completing the tasks that i set out to do before being able to take it out for a sail. After a general wash and removal of superfluous equipment, the cockpit had to be restored. It had laminated wood on the seats and that was screwed on to the fiber seats. After starting to strip this wood i quickly realized that it simply had to go. And it did. I was however, left with the screw holes to deal with, and these were filled with epoxy resin, sanded and finally painted over. The final product isn’t anything perfect, but the outcome is good enough for me.

It is the culmination (or the first step) of a dream that started over three years ago in a boat show down in the Algarve. Having taken the licenses to pilot a recreation boat and a 32 hour sailing course were the personal preparation for this first step. Now comes the time to practice and continue the learning and also to share the experience with those close and those that were witness to the awakening of this yearning for the sea, namely my Spanish teacher who so attentatively listened to my poor excuse for Spanish trying to get the idea across of how i found sailing attractive.

The first day back in the water was a rush of emotion and a particularly stressful one. The last minute preparations were just barely completed. Anyway, the travel-lift lowered us (my friend João that had participated in one of the sailing lessons was to be my helping hand on this task) stern first into the water. This presented the first challenge: reversing is definitely not one of the better abilities of this boat under motor power. So we had a close encounter with the boats close at hand since the entrance to the travel-lift is in a marina cluttered with boats. With a bit of sweat we managed to get the bow pointed in the direction of the exit of the marina and were off into the river, motoring to the usual berth in the next marina downstream.

We motored into the berth and managed to get a perfect parking procedure done. Not bad for our first time. We knew that luck had a hand in helping us and that not all parkings were going to happen this well. Once stopped however, we proceeded to gather ourselves from the initial excitement, get a bite to eat for lunch before taking Navegante out into the river again, this time to try the sails...

The wind must have been blowing in the range of 15 knots so we decided to hoist just the mainsail as the genoa was too big a sail for the conditions and we wanted to get a feel for the boat in any case, learning in steps how it handles in different situations. Yet what joy! With the main hoisted, we started to move and the slow sway offered by the boat was very satisfying, proving immediately that it was indeed a sea kindly vessel. And not too slow at that either! Obviously without any electronic equipment to give us an exact reading of wind and boat speed we could only guess, but intuitively we knew. Other boats with more sail (or rather, better tuned sails since we should perhaps have reefed the main and set the weather jib) weren’t catching us so some thing must have been going right.

We reveled at the progress a couple of rookies were making. Having beat to wind downriver for about an hour we turned around and headed back to the marina, fulfilled and satisfied with our first outing. As it happens, our second docking wasn’t so successful and a fool I must have seemed trying to maneuver Navegante to the berth. But fortunately nothing too tragic happened and we managed to steer clear of the other boats.

And so our first sailing day with Navegante ended.

First impressions

It is now a week since “Navegante” was taken out of the water. The experience was a mix between unfulfilled expectations and bewilderment at the prospect that this might actually become “my boat”.

The previous owner was waiting at the dock and had already prepared the boat for leaving. This was really just getting a battery installed, since the original was dead, and making sure the engine started. Which it did when I turned the key.

Being used to Rogério's Elan 29,5, a more recent and lighter boat, I found Navegante to be highly unresponsive both to tiller and the engine and the act of taking it out of the berth was not entirely successful. In part due to the light wind that blew in the marina but also because of my lack of experience in taking boats out of the actual berths, we ended up almost hitting into other boats and very nearly did so on at least two occasions if it weren't for the previous owner putting a leg out to avoid the collisions. Eventually I decided that it would be best for him to get the boat out into the open water, which he did.

I then took the tiller and steered the boat upriver to the dock where the travel lift would take it out of the water. Again the sensation of sluggishness. I also realized that we were taking very long to cover the distance to the travel lift and this also spoiled the experience for me. Knowing that the tide was at its peak I was sure that the slowness was due to some other factor. Of course I had every intention of letting this discontent show since I hadn't come to a final decision about buying the boat yet.

We eventually arrived at the travel lift and the boat was hoisted out of the water. When I first saw the bottom I couldn't believe my eyes. The amount of marine life that had installed itself on the hull was impressive. Of course I once again let my reaction show. But on the inside I was quite pleased: a modified full keel! And finally a look at the whole picture. The lines of the hull were everything I'd imagined them to be. A traditional design along the lines of an Alberg 30.

With the boat settled in the supports and still dripping, I made my final offer. This led to a renegotiation and the owner made his counter offer. I delayed the decision one more day and finally, the next morning after having spoken to the person who is going to do the bottom cleaning and painting (at least this year) I decided that a fair price had been arrived at. Done deal.

Everyday that passes makes me more eager to get it ready for sailing, but the prospect of all the projects that have to be completed also excite me. I've spent hours everyday just sitting, lying, inspecting and generally thinking about how I want the end result to look and feel like.

Navegante

What started as a whim after seeing a boat show in Vilamoura about three years ago, has finally materialized into something physical. Something real.

With the acquisition of “Navegante”, a 30 foot sloop of uncertain origin (...), the final, or rather – the initial! - step in the process of going to sea has been taken. Against all logic/reasoning of obtaining a small boat to start with, of practicing more nautical miles on the boats of others, of waiting and seeing other boats before making the decision to buy – against all this – the deed is done.

But it is not an thoughtless decision. After months of sailing on the internet, acquiring knowledge shared by others on their trials and tribulations, the conclusion was this: the first impression is most important. And beauty is an unexplainable factor. So follow the heart was the first guideline. Then, three simple rules from “Sailing with a Purpose”: buy small, strong and cheap, made the final decision a little clearer. Mix in the fact that the owner was pretty anxious to get rid of the boat, a good reduction in the initial asking price, a final renegotiation and there you have it.

A lot of work is now needed to bring the boat to safe standards and going out onto the water. A lot of time and money needs to be invested. But the flow of the lines of the hull invite all this effort as an exchange for many news places to be discovered. Both in the world outside and within.

8th day sailing

The sailing course came to an end today. With over 32 hours on the water I feel that I'm going to be longing for more in no time. Today we had another guest on board, Sandra, Dinora's friend. A convert too just as João last week.

We are planning another outing, this time an intensive course of 16 hours where we'll travel to Setubal and spend the night in the marina, thus taking a weekend. That should be interesting as we would get the chance to sail out in the open water and also spend a night aboard.

Today we travelled upriver, with the tide, and went to the Seixal bay. At one time we were getting pretty close to the pier so to avoid any risks, Rogério decided to turn on the engine to get us clear. I thought it was unnecessary but then again, it's not my boat... I am really anxious to be able to make my own judgments, take my own risks and make my own decisions. And of course, suffer my own consequences. Avoiding the engine altogether is definitely high on my list of things to try. I found myself going to the front of the boat every time the engine came on.

Having had a taste of the real thing, it won't be long before I have to take the next step.

Auto-análise bloguítica

A ideia surgiu lá para finais de 2003 quando um amigo divulgou o seu blog.

-Mas o que é?

-É pá, é uma cena tipo diário. Metes lá o que quiseres e está acessível a todos. Como estás a começar com esta cena do mar até seria uma boa ideia para fazeres um log...

Pois é. Juntando o acordar para os assuntos do mar com o 1º aniversário do João (que acabou por dar o título ao blog) assim se criou o Semente. Uma tentativa de coleccionar os acontecimentos marcantes na vida do meu puto, e também relatar as experiências com o mar, começando pelas cartas de navegador de recreio e mais recentemente com o curso de vela que tanto prazer me tem dado.

Mas a certa altura o Semente cresceu como blog. Passou a ser um espaço onde alem do que foi inicialmente planeado, havia também crítica social, e, mais importante, um espelho daquilo que me ia (e vai) nos miolos. Nos últimos mêses tenho alegado que a viagem que fiz ao Ghana em muito alterou a maneira como via o mundo. Mas creio que seria mais sincero se dissesse que a revolta tinha começado antes. E acho que se pode provar aqui, no Semente. Mas adiante.

A questão é que este espaço permitia (e permite) dizer, gritar aquilo que ninguem quer ouvir sem ter obviamente a pretensão que alguem se pudesse interessar com isso. Mas o exercício em si já tinha efeito. Um escape, por muito virtual que seja, mas um escape na mesma. E assim de repente certos horizontes se foram alargando e com o crescimento do blog associa-se o crescimento do autor.

Há já uns tempos que ando para fazer este post. Começou com o reconhecimento que este blog é muito...- e peço desculpa mas falta-me um adjectivo melhor - chato. Aqueles dizeres ali ao lado, por exemplo. Frases feitas que tentam “iluminar” a ideia daqueles que supostamente não seriam importante que visitassem o blog. Posso sempre tentar justificar a ideia com a lógica de que muitos dos dizeres são de facto coisas em que acredito e como tal devo transmiti-las. Mas que interesse tem isso?

Pensei mesmo em pôr um fim ao blog.

A questão da crítica política e social: houve uma altura em que pensei que todo o pouco que se fazia era productivo, pois a ideologia de fundo o justificava. A “luta” contra a direita era justificada pela posição antagónica em relação a muitos temas. Mas que interesse tem isso? Qual vaidade de pensar que algum efeito poderiam ter tido uns posts ranhosos na luta fútil das ideologias? Falamos de questões de fundo que não podem ser resolvidas com palavras! Uma pessoa ou acha que a sua “raça” é superior a outras e acredita piamente nesse “facto” ou não acredita e acredita tambem nesse facto. A partir daí ou se fica por aí ou parte-se para a violência. O que adianta discutir que uma mulher deve ter o direito de decidir por ela mesmo o que fazer com o seu feto se isso é confundido com homicidio e como tal deve estar nas mãos de outros tomar essa decisão?

Este blog é uma vaidade.

Este post é uma vaidade.

Mas tinha que o escrever. Pois marca também uma viragem. E as viragens devem ser assinaladas. Não digo que tudo é mau. Se assim achasse teria posto um ponto final e ponto final. Não. Tenho que escrever mais sobre o mar. Mas sobretudo, tenho que escrever mais sobre o Semente, que, no meio desta confusão cristalina é quem mais interessa.

7th day sailing

The best day yet. It would appear that it just keeps getting better! And it does. We caught all kinds of conditions today, from flat calm to 22 knots wind which had us in the splashes.

I took a friend as a guest and he was delighted. I’m sure he’s hooked too.

Felt a little queasiness today while going below deck to get something to eat but this happened as a result of the waves we were suffering without having wind to get us under way. A very strange situation.

My body still feels like I’m on the water rocking to the motion of the waves under the boat.

At the end of the lesson, Rogério had us take down and remove the mainsail since he’s putting in an extra reef point. All part of the learning process.

6th day sailing

With Vasco’s wife pregnant and near her time, he had to quit the sailing course so Rogério (the skipper) asked me to join the Saturday class. Thus I met Dinorá and João (having already met José on the last outing) and we had a very pleasant afternoon on the river, with conditions once again varying but always with plenty wind.

Rogério’s new boat is a 31 foot sloop, an Elan 295, and it is quite different to the 26 footer we used on the previous lessons. The extra length and weight give the boat an added stability making it much easier to handle and more forgiving. It also makes for a more physical boat, especially the jib which required hard work to set, even using the winch.

It was the best sailing day yet. We managed 7,5 knots at times but it wasn’t so much the speed that impressed but rather the roll induced by the huge mast towering above us. Having been three weeks without sailing this was definitely a welcome dose of anti-stress treatment.

Good grief

When a Sunday feels almost worse than a Monday.

No sailing today on account of the skipper having sold his boat and gotten a new one which didn't arrive on time for today's lesson.

All that's left is to go with Joshua.

A tribute to Joshua Slocum

First man to solo circumnavigate. Aboard Spray.

Um breve resumo da história do meu país

Our ancestors have been strutting around Mozambique for over 2 million years, and Homo sapiens have been settling the area for at least 100,000 years. Starting around 2000 years ago, Bantu peoples (named for their language group) began migrating into the area, bringing iron tools and weapons with them. Toward the end of the first millennium, several towns along the Mozambican coast grew into Bantu trading ports with links to other parts of Africa, the Middle East and India. The Arab influence in these ports was strong, and Swahili was the lingua franca of trade.

This is the Mozambique that greeted Vasco da Gama when he arrived in 1498. His goal was to establish supply points for Portuguese sea routes to India - a job that brought him into conflict with the resident Arab traders. A flourishing trade in gold and ivory persuaded the Portuguese to overcome such adversities. By the mid-1700s, slaves were added to the cargo. Meanwhile, the Portuguese were moving inland and colonising the country in earnest.

By the early 20th century a pattern was established in Mozambique. Rather than developing the country, the Portuguese simply rented out the available resources. This included human labour hired to neighbouring countries, particularly South Africa and Rhodesia, thus removing a large segment of the male labour force. Even more Mozambican men left the country after harsh working conditions were made worse by the rule of Fascist leader Antònio Salazar in Portugal from 1932 to 1968. Salazar introduced cash crops such as cotton and rice and required all males over 15 to work on plantations for half the year, often in chains. Accompanying the rise in cash crops was a drastic drop in food production, leading to widespread famine in the 1940s and 1950s.

To make matters worse, the Portuguese made no pretence of social investment in Mozambique. Of the few schools and hospitals that did exist, most were in the cities and reserved for Portuguese, other whites and privileged African asimilados. It all came to a head in 1960, when Portuguese soldiers opened fire on peaceful demonstrators protesting taxes, killing about 600 people. The independence movement was born.

The Mozambique Liberation Front, or Frelimo, formed in 1962. Led by Eduardo Mondlane, Frelimo sought to completely liberate the country from Portuguese rule. The war lasted over 10 years, effectively ending in 1974 when the fascist regime was overthrown. The independent Republic of Mozambique was proclaimed on 25 June 1975 - and then troubles really began.

The Portuguese pulled out virtually overnight, leaving the country in chaos: lacking skilled professionals and infrastructure, bleeding capital, the economy plummeted. Frelimo, now the governing party, turned to the Communist governments of the Soviet Union and East Germany for help.

By the early 1980s the country was nearly bankrupt. Money was worthless and shops were empty. Compounding this instability were growing tensions between Mozambique and Rhodesia and South Africa, both of which sought to destabilise Mozambique for harbouring bases of their respective independence movements. Rhodesian-trained rebels in Mozambique formed the Mozambique National Resistance, or Renamo, and were eventually taken over by South Africa.

What followed has typically been described as a civil war, but some point out that Renamo was created, trained and supplied wholly by foreign agents. Renamo's aim was the wholesale destruction of Mozambique's social and communications infrastructure and the eventual overthrow of the government. The drought and famine of 1983 brought the country to its knees. Renamo attacked relief trucks and burned grain stores. Frelimo gradually yielded to the pressure and began opening up to the west, which responded with infusions of food.

Relations with South Africa had improved slightly by the late 1980s, but not until Frelimo jettisoned its Marxist ideology in 1990 was the Renamo threat abated. Both sides signed a peace treaty in 1992, officially ending hostilities.

Elections in 1994 were surprisingly smooth and fair, resulting in the election of the head of Frelimo, Joaquim Chissano, to the presidency. Mozambique has done much to rebuild itself since then, though landmines, droughts (one as recent as 1998) and cyclones have continued to plague it.

In January 2001, floods killed about 700 people, left half a million homeless and devastated the economy. Some of the flooded areas - and many others besides - were then hit by a drought the following year. The economy remained crippled by debt, with annual payments almost twice the public health budget. Thankfully, plans to export huge natural gas reserves to South Africa were expected to pump billions into the economy over the following 25 years.

from Lonely Planet

5th day sailing

We had a very calm day on the water today, with almost no wind and a blazing sun. With these conditions, tuning the sails became imperative as the correct balance allows us to get the most from the little wind that there was. We went upriver with the tide and against the wind again for the first part of the trip and later came back down. With almost no wind we were resigned to turn the engine on, which for me kind of spoiled it a bit, but for time’s sake we had to.

We took the opportunity to learn how to use the autopilot which is really not that complicated to figure out.

Um post pequenino

Quando comecei a viagem ouvindo Sérgio Godinho, fiquei logo mordido pela beleza da língua portuguêsa, que até então nunca tinha percebido que pudesse chegar tão perto das cordas que nos tocam a vida. Logo ali percebi que havia algo na história recente deste povo (que também é meu) que se encaixava perfeitamente no meu sentido de revolta.

Quando depois passo o meu olhar através do ouvido para horizontes mais distantes, no tempo e no espaço, com o Fausto, acentuou-se esse sentimento que nos leva a perceber o caminho que percorremos. Que vamos percorrer. Como que uma visão do futuro pelos olhos do passado.

Têm aqui um post pequenino - sim, pequenino porque não diz o suficiente acerca desse mundo, dessa aventura, cantada pela voz e guiada pela música de Fausto - que descreve melhor os caminhos que podem percorrer, se quiserem.

Happy Birthday!!!

On your special day.

4th day sailing

'Caught varying conditions today, having gone upriver against the tide at the start of the lesson. To leeward the boat was harder to control and we had to pay attention to the direction of the wind so as not to be caught off guard and come about inadvertently.

Coming back was much easier and the conditions helped too as the wind lessoned a bit and we had the sails all the way up.

Took some photos today and this one seems to be appropriate since it’s the sight that got me the first time out (even though here the sail isn’t fully hoisted).

Once again I’d like to mention the amazing feeling of hearing just the wind and the boat cutting through the water leaving a wake.

Last note for the sight of watching a 40 something footer with blue hull cruise past us. The gracefulness of a yacht gliding across the water under wind power is sure to impress many.

Fausto

Ontem foi o concerto do Fausto no C.C.B. Foi obviamente uma pérola no que toca a concertos, pois não é todos os dias que este artista nos brinda com actuações ao vivo e nem é todos os dias que se ouve música assim.

Foram na maioria músicas do último album mas também algumas mais antigas e duas que desconhecia pois ainda não ouvi a obra toda.

Esperava um ambiente mais festivo mas no C.C.B não se pode esperar grandes farras. Ainda assim uma grande ovação no final que foi mais que merecida.

3rd day sailing

On our third day out things came even more natural than before. Once again the conditions were perfect: the tide was rising and the wind was coming in from the northwest so that it was pretty much aligned with the current caused by the tide.

We traveled upriver for an hour getting a beautiful view of Lisbon with the sun bringing out the wonderful light the city seems to emanate. Not a usual sight for those that have never been on the river and seen the city from that perspective.

Turning back downriver against wind and current, we made good progress due to the direction of the wind (west – northwest) and only once got caught off guard by an unexpected gust which nearly turned us in our tracks.

Last note for the moments of complete silence (between the conversations we usually have during these sessions) which heighten the experience and are really relaxing.

Corrida à beira Tejo

Saindo pela manhã com a chuva a querer entristecer o dia, fui até ao rio para uma corridinha. Chegando a Belém já a chuva tinha desaparecido e o sol prometia um dia alegre.

A maré estava a encher, e, com o pouco vento que se fazia sentir, a àgua estava serena - mar chão.

Pelas 10:30, os veleiros das escolas de vela e não só, faziam-se ao rio. Os turistas tiravam fotografias ao Padrão dos Descobrimentos e os quiosques iam abrindo.

Nem tudo aqui é mau.

Anticipating the 1st of June...

All I'm thinkin' about

All I'm thinkin' about is you, baby
All I'm thinkin' about is you, honey
All I'm thinkin' about is you, baby
All I'm th