Semente

A Good year

This has been a good year. With all its ups and downs, the balance is, well, good. Good good good.

My quintessential song

Hold me close and hold me fast
The magic spell you cast
This is la vie en rose

When you kiss me heaven sighs
And tho I close my eyes
I see la vie en rose

When you press me to your heart
I'm in a world apart
A world where roses bloom

And when you speak...angels sing from above
Everyday words seem...to turn into love songs

Give your heart and soul to me
And life will always be
La vie en rose

Sung by L. Armstrong

Bliss

bliss |blis|
noun
perfect happiness; great joy
• a state of spiritual blessedness, typically that reached after death.

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 thinkin' about is you
Ain't nothin' in this world
I can do about it
All I'm thinkin' about is you

All the way home

Não vou nem tentar descrever este trabalho. Está perfeitamente sintetizado aqui (roubei-te a imagem...). Mas se conseguissem percorrer o corredor das minhas memórias encontrariam muitas vezes este senhor em quartos a cantar alguns episódios desta curta e insignificante existência.

Arrisco dizer que é o melhor album até agora, mas claro, ainda só vou na segunda vez que o ouví. O tempo o dirá. Escusado será dizer que recomendo vivamente. Até porque isto da música é como a vida: o que um vê o outro poderá não discernir.

Nota para "Maria's Bed", que me fez abanar a cabeça que nem um "maluquinho" com os fones nos ouvidos e esta fabulosa linha:

Holy man said, "Hold on, brother, there's a light up ahead."
Ain't nothin' like the light that shines on me in Maria's bed

Isto num album em que a palavra God aparece 11 vezes e temos uma música entitulada Jesus was an only son. Fabuloso.

Nota também para Matamoros banks com um cheirinho a Tom Traubert's Blues.

É pois com esta música (ou antes, estas doze músicas) no ouvido, que escrevo este post. E o seguinte...

2nd day sailing

The second day of our sailing course was again packed with strong emotions. Today we headed out downriver and we had quite a bit more wind than last Sunday. We hoisted the mainsail totally at first but eventually had to reef it one notch because of the conditions. The river was also choppy which added to the fun, i.e., the spray hitting us in the face as we plowed to weather.

When we reached Paço-de-Arcos we came about, this time with the wind behind us and the tide coming in too. Since we’d not tried this before we got caught off guard a couple of times and the boat almost came about into the wind. But having the tide to our advantage brought us back in good speed.

Still, I got the feeling that most of the handling was second nature, for both Vasco and I, which builds confidence and makes us want to learn more and faster. The four hours we were out on the water felt like an instant and although coming back up river I felt a slight bit of sea-sickness, it was nothing that couldn’t be tolerated.

1st day sailing

Having met Rogério (the skipper) at about 9:30, we waited for the second participant for the course (Vasco) and entered the “Bom Sucesso” dock (good success…), proceeding then to board the 25 foot yacht, Rukas. At about 11:00, having been briefed about the main points of the boat, we headed out into the Tagus River using the engine. Up to here nothing new; I’d had this similar experience when taking the skipper license.

But when we got to mid-river and prepared to hoist the mainsail, the excitement started to grow. Having switched the engine off, the moment arrived and it will be worth remembering. Suddenly the noise of the engine dies away and you’re left with… just wind. With the mainsail up, we headed further out into the river and proceeded to get used to how the boat handled under wind power, eventually hoisting the jib.

It was a fantastic experience: the weather was exceptional, coming in from a westerly direction at a steady 5 to 10 knots. The tide was rising and the water was flat. Having the sail hoisted and towering above is exhilarating, and the interaction with the environment is complete.

We were out for a good four and a half hours but it felt like much less. The nautical terms for what we did while we were out on the water will come with time but we pretty much got things going and not too bad, if I may say so, for a couple of first timers. Both Vasco and I had never done any sailing before

Rogério runs the Ar do Mar sailing school. A very friendly person who quickly sets you at ease and communication is thus facilitated. Vasco proved to be a great companion on this first day of our 32 hour sailing course and I believe he too was enthralled by the experience.

Oficialmente empregado

De novo num espaço confinado, com ar condicionado e a competetividade a jorrar por sorrisos e boas vindas hipócritas.

Acho que estou a precisar de férias.

A depressão regressa...

Hoje sinto que é Domingo.

O regresso

Lá voltamos, o Semente e eu, duma bem merecida pausa da correria da cidade.

Por falar em pausas merecidas, o dia 1 de Maio num Domingo?

Oficialmente Desempregado

Finalmente livre do emprego anterior eis que começa um período interessante. Nunca dantes tinha estado desempregado. É uma sensação estranha – meio entre a liberdade que é não ter que aturar chefes e chefinhos, e uma preocupação controlada que é ter que encontrar novo meio de sustentação. Controlada por enquanto, pois se o tempo passar e nada se arranjar, enfim, começará a ser incómodo não ter dinheiro para pagar as contas. No mínimo incómodo.

Mas por enquanto, regalo-me desta situação. Ter conseguido sair de um lugar onde as relações humanas já não se podiam considerar tal, e onde as expectativas saíram mais que defraudadas é, para mim e para já, um feito.

Digamos que a revolta evidenciada neste espaço tem também neste acto uma razão de ser, pois o relato e o acordar para situações injustas estarão intrinsecamente ligadas à situação pessoal vivida nos últimos meses.

Lost and Found

If anyone happens to find a PDA (Palm Tungsten E) in the toilets of Heathrow Airport's Terminal 2, please drop me a line.

Thank You.

Yet another

It´s off to the land of the Wild Rover and Molly Malone. Again.

Finalmente o Zeca

Depois do Sérgio e do Fausto, eis que finalmente meto os ouvidos na musica do Zeca Afonso. Não que não o tivesse já ouvido, mas nunca o tinha ouvido. Desta vez passei o serão com ele a deliciar-me com as suas palavras e melodias sendo que estas se entranharam imediatamente pelo ser. Foram apenas 23 musicas que elevam o português a um ponto sublime. É aqui que se pode encontrar a identidade de quem nasceu português por terras d’áfrica. É aqui que a revolução nasce. É aqui que nasce a revolta dos eternamente revoltados. É aqui que se descobrem melodias que nos fazem querer saltar e pular de alegria, dançar que nem putos na maior das inocências. É aqui que se descobre a tristeza e a eterna saudade.

1. Lago de breu
2. Canção longe
3. Tecto do mendigo
4. Já o tempo se habitua
5. Cantiga do monte
6. Coro da primavera
7. Sete fadas me fadaram
8. Se voaras mais ao perto
9. O homem voltou
10. Como se faz um canalha
11. Tinha uma sala mal iluminada
12. De não saber o que se espera
13. Eu dizia
14. *
15. Papuça
16. A acupuntura em Odmira
17. Teresa Torga
18. Ailé ailé
19. Vai, Maria vai
20. O cavaleiro e o anjo
21. Altos castelos
22. Os eunucos
23. Vampiros

Mais uma vez obrigado amigo. Tu sabes quem és.

* - a minha favorita não consegui identificar.

Hope

"Uma sombra projectada no silêncio é um depoimento pessoal sobre a vivência de uma Depressão, feito já numa etapa avançada de recuperação do elan vital e de reconstrução das estruturas basilares da personalidade; é uma tentativa de ajuda para quem sofre de Depressão e para quem sofre com a Depressão de alguém; é um incentivo para que todos os que se sentem «sombras projectadas no silêncio» reconstruam a sua forma e recuperem a voz, e um contributo para que os outros os compreendam um pouco melhor e os possam ajudar; é um espaço aberto à partilha de sensações, um convite ao diálogo, uma forma de quebrar o isolamento e a solidão de quem sofre na primeira pessoa ou de quem sofre por ela."

Concluiu-se um trabalho que tem verdadeiro sentido de serviço público. Parabens Cátia.

Insomnia

That place where you want to write something but nothing makes sense.

Le monde d'Amélie Poulain

Ver imagens ampliadas

[Merci Sombra pela correcção do francês ;) ]

Celebrating the attraction of the sexes

A Rh D Positive

You most likely know your star sign.

You most likely know which clothes, shoe and sunglass manufacturers most identify with your personality.

You probably know the TV schedule for your favourite programs.

You probably know a lot about your job.

But do you know your blood type?

For She

I've got you under my skin
I've got you deep in the heart of me
So deep in my heart, that you're really a part of me
I've got you under my skin

I've tried so not to give in
I've said to myself this affair never will go so well
But why should I try to resist, when baby will I know so well
That I've got you under my skin

I'd sacrifice anything come what might
For the sake of having you near
In spite of a warning voice that comes in the night
And repeats, repeats in my ear

Don't you know you fool, you never can win
Use your mentality, wake up to reality
But each time I do, just the thought of you
Makes me stop before I begin
'Cause I've got you under my skin

Need I say more?

Pensamentos comuns

Queria apenas linkar-vos para o blog onde encontrei este post. Mas se são alguma coisa como eu, sei que os links dão trabalho - ter que abrir uma janela nova, carregar no botão do rato mais que o necessário, desencoraja qualquer um. Por isso decidi copiá-lo na integra para que se quiserem perder um pouco do vosso tempo sem ter que abrir uma janela nova, aqui está:

"Pensamentos soltos

À coisa de uns mêses, assaltaram-me o carro. Fiquei sem o bem mais precioso do meu veículo, o Rádio. Foi da maneira que comecei a cantar, como um vagabundo das ruas. As letras, que saiem do meu orifício bocal, não fazem sentido, pois, a única coisa que interessa é dar uso às minhas cordas vocais para apagar o silêncio. Este silêncio acompanha-me em todos os instantes da minha vida. Tudo não passa de um luxo, um extra, que advém da complexidade do meu cérebro, da qual a única certeza que tenho é que precisa de sobreviver. A natureza só se interessa pela sobrevivência, e é por isso que somos dotados de egocêntrismo. O amor, o ódio, a tristeza e a felicidade não passam de emoções momentâneas que nos influenciam no nosso dia-a-dia. Todo o ser humano ama e é amado, odeia e é odiado, é feliz e é triste. Todo o ser humano exprime essas sensações, sem ter qualquer controle sobre elas. Assim, sendo o ser humano um ser social, vai exprimindo essas sensações nas actividades em que está inserido, seja na religião, seja na música, sejam nas imagens, seja no que for. Ao contrário do que se diz, não acredito que estejamos a procura do consenso. Acho que estamos, simplesmente, a procura de transmitir as nossas mensagens. Quando transmitimos uma mensagem, exprimimos emoções, que, por sua vez, são recebidos por um receptor, que, por sua vez, exprime outras emoções, e assim sucessivamente. É o ciclo social. O único propósito da vida é não morrer, e morrer é a única coisa que não podemos evitar. Desculpem-me se vos fiz perder tempo ao ler este texto, mas eu não sei se perdi tempo ao escreve-lo. Só sei que estou a sobreviver para viver a morte."

E pronto. Não deixem de ver outro blog do contra.

África Minha 2

Depois de ver África Minha, posso dizer que fiquei com uma dose de nostalgia insuportável. Daquelas doses que vêm de longe a longe mas que quando aparecem extremecem os pilares da sanidade mental.

A verdade é que este filme com 20 anos relata uma realidade que me afectou para o resto dos meus dias: os grandes espaços abertos do continente africano. Não sei se existirá outro lugar no planeta que consiga transmitir a tão imensa insignificancia dos mortais aos mortais. Acredito que sim. Mas este é para mim o sitio. Sim. O sitio.

A certa altura, o personagem de Robert Redford, Denys, constata que, sem conseguir explicar cientificamente o facto, se pode ver mais longe numa noite clara nas planicies africanas do que em qualquer outro lugar. Pois eu gosto de pensar que assim seja. Recordo-me perfeitamente de olhar para o ceu numa noite clara e sem luar na selva de uma reserva no norte da África do Sul, e ver mais estrelas do que algum dia tinha visto e que desde então nunca mais consegui ver. A Via Láctia estava escarrapachada perante o meu olhar incrédulo.

África Minha

"We're not owners here, Karen. We're just passing through."

Obrigado Cátia

É amanhã

Em dia de reflexão não se devia fazer campanha. Isto não é, portanto, campanha.

Faço a minha passagem pelos blogs do costume. Confesso que a blogosfera me tem atraído bastante no que toca aos assuntos políticos nacionais, já que a televisão não me satisfaz como meio de comunicação. A opinião relatada nos blogs faz transparecer uma humanidade que pelo menos dá alguma credibilidade a quem a está a relatar; não é mais que isso: opinião.

E ao ler os pensamentos dos outros, posso também perceber onde me coloco perante certas questões, como por exemplo, a presente etapa eleitoral. Ao ler o Barnabé, que nem é dos meus blogs favoritos (diria aliás que até nem gosto muito, salvo a excepção que é o Rui Tavares e o meu amigo Nuno Sousa), fico contente em ver dois posts que permitem definir melhor a minha posição em relação ao dia de amanhã.

Já comentei num outro blog que o voto deve ser segundo a nossa consciência. Ora essa consciência pode ter várias posições. Segundo o Nuno, votar no partido que melhor poderá fazer com que o rumo do país (atenção, não é campanha, sério) volte a ser tal que permita uma melhoria de vida para todos, e em particular para os menos favorecidos (é assim que eu interpreto o nome “Partido Socialista”) parece ser a escolha acertada. Mesmo que essa escolha não coincida com as nossas ideologias. Garantir a maioria absoluta para esse partido poderá ser uma garantia de estabilidade.

A questão coloca-se então se a nossa consciência acredita que isso seja verdade, ou seja, será que se o PS tiver a maioria o país vai realmente melhorar? E é aqui que a minha opinião mais se aproxima da do Rui. Eu não acredito. Eu não acredito que a classe política consiga agradar a gregos e troianos e que como tal, depositar a minha confiança num partido só porque pedem a maioria para poderem governar em paz, não me parece correcto. Se tiverem que governar com os “humores” do BE pois que assim seja.

Porquê?

Chamem-me pessimista mas não acredito no futuro de Portugal. Não acredito no futuro da Europa. Acredito que já se iniciou o fim de mais uma era politica – a era da democracia moderna. A era da democracia materialista. A era da democracia capitalista. A era da democracia de mercados. A era da democracia da globalização. É nesta descrença que amanhã vou votar.

Não vou votar em branco nem nulo porque acho que seria dar poder ou razão às ideologias que levaram a que a democracia esteja num estado análogo ao que Estaline fez com o comunismo. Não voto no partido que pede a maioria porque na minha descrença existe ainda a esperança de que se possa inverter as tendências. Que se possa evitar o seguidismo de modelos já em decadência.

O isolamento

A condição de isolamento forçado tem muito que se lhe diga. Sentado no cubiculo que é o apartamento onde estou instalado, e depois e tratar das acções rotineiras (que no fundo nos prendem à realidade) como cozinhar e lavar a louça, passa-se irremediavelmente pela condição de “couch potato” fazendo o zapping habitual pelos 38 canais (apenas dois dos quais são em inglês...) vezes sem fim. Como dizia o tio Bruce, 57 channels and nothing on.

Mas como já foi referênciado, o isolamento é tambem uma viagem ao interior, torcendo-nos, esticando-nos, comprimindo-nos à nossa essência.

Só espero é que pare de nevar nesta terra para que possa voltar no fim-de-semana, pois já tenho saudades do Semente e tenho que ir votar.

Guess where I am

Heroine

Although a bit late, congratulations are due to an extraordinary feat. Well done Ellen!

The Rising Sun

What can I say? It’s been a tough week. After months of suppressed rage, the time came to blow the top off and let the steam out. And it’s still blowing. I don’t think it’s even hit me full on yet, the whole reality of my situation.

I won’t bore you with the details; it suffices to say that a leap has been taken, and as more and more I begin to perceive it, freedom (or a breeze that brings a feint scent thereof…) is mostly felt at times of great change. And quitting the corporate job is one such change for me.

A friend said just yesterday as I broke the news to him, that we should all change something major in our lives every four years or so – house, lifestyle, region of residence… How true his words sound to me. Maybe that’s why after twenty odd years he’s still my friend. (this is where I send you the hug)

So a new page is turned. All the fear and uncertainty of change mixed with the great relief, ecstasy and joy of leaving a “safe” burden behind, lifts me up into a drugged state that I know won’t last, but hell! while it does…, it makes me feel that much closer to utopian freedom.

Or maybe its just the flu pills… ;)

One of those days

It's cold. I've got a cold. I'm far away from home.

Aaarrrggggggghhhhh.

Reality check

Sailing

'Recomend downloading the 3D viewer program and running the trip.

Utopias

No meu país das utopias em que a liberdade não é um conceito mas sim a realidade, não preciso de votar. Existe uma consciência colectiva de respeito pelo outro e logo cada um governa-se a si próprio não havendo necessidade que essa governação seja feita por terceiros.

Mas o caminho para a Utopia é longo. É árduo. Tomar uma atitude anarquista perante o acto eleitoral (ie: não votar) é, neste momento, um acto inconsciente. Apenas quando a consciência colectiva tiver predominantemente esta ideologia é que se pode passar de uma realidade em que são os outros a ditar a nossa governação para a realidade de sermos nós os capitães de nossas naus. Das nossas vidas.

Até lá, teremos que puxar pela consciência colectiva para que ela 1.) queira ir para a Utopia e 2.) perceba que só com um passar por uma condição social de franca entre-ajuda é que se embarca no caminho para Lá.

Enquanto houver classes sociais e ditaduras de mercado não vamos Lá.

Enquanto houver descriminação racial, religiosa e sexual, não vamos Lá.

Enquanto houver pena de morte, não vamos Lá.

Enquanto isto e muito mais não mudar, fico a sonhar com a Utopia.

Sombra

Um tributo a ti, que por aqui passaste e deixaste uma agradável...sombra. Obrigado pelos comentários e que voltes sempre.

Animação

Quando os almoços entre amigos já não nos animam é porque as coisas estão mesmo mal.

Ok, I suppose this one will do

Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind

At a lack of finding a picture for this movie, I'm just going to write a few words.

Words are hard comming to describe this work of art. Just as they are when it comes to describing an emotion like love. But here we are shown how the mind (which supposedly is where all emotions are generated and stored) can be used to suppress such a feeling. Or rather, how an external effort to suppress this feeling is futile. How this feeling completely encompasses us and recedes to our earliest recolections, our earliest memories.

And so the person we love becomes so interwoven in our mind that they cannot be erased.

A touching and sensitive portrail of the stuf which keeps us all going.

PS - Jim Carrey at his best, no makeup, no funny faces. Kate Winslet - supperb!

O porquê de elas durarem mais

Será que sofrem menos do coração?

Não me consumas

Entre uma viagem ao Algarve, histórias de amor - o x conheceu a y através do messenger, e agora vai deixar Amsterdam onde trabalhava na Opel há já uns bons anos para vir para Portugal (de vez...) - jogos de setas (com o relato do Sporting como musica de fundo) e cartas (com um Faustozinho à mistura...), as frases do costume:" então vizinho, isto é que foi uma tragédia (Sudoeste Asiático)!?", as eleições na Palestina (where the fuck is that??) e uma bela gripezinha, assim se passou o fim-de-semana.

Adeus que me vou embora.

Fim

Quando eu morrer batam em latas,
Rompam aos saltos e aos pinotes,
Façam estalar no ar chicotes,
Chamem palhaços e acrobatas!

Que o meu caixão vá sobre um burro
Ajaezado à andaluza...
A um morto nada se recusa,
Eu quero por força ir de burro.

Mário de Sá Carneiro

Despertares

Para fazer tributo a quem influenciou as cores deste blog (Semente) indirectamente, há já alguns anos, pela musica que nos deu, um post no Barnabé.

New Year's Resolution

...To not make any new year's resolutions.

Nova entrada

Pois é. Mais um. Este com pleno sabor a... rotina. Grupo de amigos, comeres e beberes com fartura, jogos de tabuleiro e a indubitável suéca, musiquinha (este ano com a presença de Fausto e Sérgio Godinho) e pronto. Nada se discute, fala-se da tragédia na Ásia, as inevitáveis referências ao futebol e pouco mais. Valha-nos o Trivial Pursuit.

Ainda uma nota para o golpe publicitário da passagem do ano em que a contágem decrescente foi feita utilizando um... anúncio. Ao que isto chegou.

Insignificance

Orion.

Mais um começo...

Pela mão do ns., mais uma vez... o que de melhor há.

Dogville

Ao contrário do meu amigo ns., eu gostei deste filme. Para mim (e daí este post estar sob esta categoria) um filme tem mais valor quanto mais conseguir relatar a realidade que é a vida, e ontem identifiquei-me várias vezes nesta "peça". Dei por mim a rir por causa dessa ironia. A ironia que é ver e ouvir aquilo que já sabemos mas ainda não tinha sido materializado em pensamento consciente.

Ainda um nota em relação a Nicole Kidman: confesso que não tinha grande ideia dela . Aqui sim tive uma surpresa positiva em relação aos outros trabalhos que produziu.

Dear diary...

São 8:30, Sábado de manhã. Normalmente ainda estaria a dormir. Quanto muito, o Semente teria-me acordado mas voltaria para a cama e não teria muita dificuldade em voltar a adormecer.

Hoje não.

Hoje a raiva adormecida começa a despertar.

Raiva adormecida

se te obrigam a fugir
mais te obrigam
a chegar junto de ti
valeu a pena?

...
É impossível
não é possível
correr tanto
e pensar tão
lucidamente
o coração
não aguenta
a cabeça também não
porque tenta
ultrapassar os seus limites?
provavelmente
é por vontade de viver
(quente quente ...)
que ultrapassa os seus limites
«Estamos quites!»
diz para o seu coração
«Ainda não, ainda não ...
sentes que valeu a pena?
se te obrigam a fugir
mais te obrigam
a chegar junto de ti
valeu a pena?

S.G.

A terra dos assentos

Enfim de regresso á terra dos assentos, onde a primeira noticia que ouço ao entrar para o taxi é que o governo vai ser dissolvido.

Uma boa noticia, parece-me.

Até amanhã.

"One day you'll explain to me why this song makes you cry..."

Tom Traubert's Blues

Wasted and wounded, it ain't what the moon did, I've got what I paid for now
See you tomorrow, hey Frank, can I borrow a couple of bucks from you
To go waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda,
You'll go waltzing Mathilda with me

I'm an innocent victim of a blinded alley
And I'm tired of all these soldiers here
No one speaks English, and everything's broken, and my Stacys are soaking wet
To go waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda,
You'll go waltzing Mathilda with me

Now the dogs are barking and the taxi cab's parking
A lot they can do for me
I begged you to stab me, you tore my shirt open,
And I'm down on my knees tonight
Old Bushmill's I staggered, you'd bury the dagger
In your silhouette window light go
To go waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda,
You'll go waltzing Mathilda with me

Now I lost my Saint Christopher now that I've kissed her
And the one-armed bandit knows
And the maverick Chinamen, and the cold-blooded signs,
And the girls down by the strip-tease shows, go
Waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda,
You'll go waltzing Mathilda with me

No, I don't want your sympathy, the fugitives say
That the streets aren't for dreaming now
And manslaughter dragnets and the ghosts that sell memories,
They want a piece of the action anyhow
Go waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda,
You'll go waltzing Mathilda with me

And you can ask any sailor, and the keys from the jailor,
And the old men in wheelchairs know
And Mathilda's the defendant, she killed about a hundred,
And she follows wherever you may go
Waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda,
You'll go waltzing Mathilda with me

And it's a battered old suitcase to a hotel someplace,
And a wound that will never heal
No prima donna, the perfume is on an
Old shirt that is stained with blood and whiskey
And goodnight to the street sweepers, the night watchmen flame keepers
And goodnight to Mathilda, too

Well, I can't explain it clearly yet - these things to be like a lifting fog - you know the horizon is there, it's just a question of waiting for the fog to clear before you can make it out.

Maybe this has something to do with it:

The words unfamiliar to non-Australians are: swagman : is the Australian equivalent of a hobo. The swagman's "swag" was his bundle of belongings.

Waltzing Matilda : When swagmen met each other at their gatherings, there were rarely women to dance with. Nonetheless, they enjoyed a dance, and so they danced with their swags. Thus, to "Waltz Matilda" is to travel from place to place with all one's belongings on one's back wrapped in a blanket or cloth. Another interpretation is the one given above, in "waltzing."

A kiss for a smile...

Fisherman's blues

I wish I was a fisherman
tumblin' on the seas
far away from dry land
and it's bitter memories
castin' out my sweet line
with abandonment and love
no ceiling bearin' down on me
save the starry sky above
with light in my head
with you in my arms...
i wish i was the brakeman
on a hurtlin fevered train
crashin head long into the heartland
like a cannon in the rain
with the feelin of the sleepers
and the burnin of the coal
countin the towns flashin by
and a night that's full of soul
with light in my head
with you in my arms...

And I know I will be loosened
from the bonds that hold me fast
and the chains all around me
will fall away at last
and on that grand and fateful day
I will take thee in my hand
I will ride on a train
I will be the fisherman
With light in my head
You in my arms...

Light in my head
You in my arms...

Light in my head
You...

With light in my head
You in my arms...

...for something completely different

Quem já viu Magnolia terá, pelo menos, a noção que na vida existem conicidências que são óbvias demais para conforto. Foi assim para mim ao ver o filme de Claude Lelouch (que, admito, até então não conhecia).

É de facto uma lufada de ar fresco, como aliás pelas cenas no mar, somos levados a experimentar, comparado com tudo o resto. E entre o musical e o romance, transparece um relato do que é a vida: entre o sonho e a realidade, e o incontornável passar do tempo, a vontade de escapar para o mar...

Jeremy Irons e Patricia Kaas excelentes. Recomendo vivamente:

"And Now... Ladies and Gentlemen"...

Yearning...

...for the wide open sea.

Here's a story which was later depicted in "The Perfect Storm".

Ghana 4

You cannot go to a place like Ghana and not come back a diferent person.

Thank you:

Seth, who was my "guide" and showed me a little of the reality

Ben, for the history and personal opinion on the state of the nation

My east german friend, Thomas - who also saw Goodbye Lenin and was surprised that I'd seen it too!

Franz - 'wish you well in your early retirement. I also hope you find out a little more so that you can say whether your government is left or right wing (we eventually concluded that it's liberal with a central coalition)

all the ghanians that shared with me a little of themselves, a little of Ghana itself.

Adeus aldeia

Adeus Accra. Adeus Ghana.

Pelo menos até á próxima.

It's raining in Ghana

I smell the rain down in Africa. And it brings tears to my eyes. Reminisce of a time and place long left behind...

Ghana

Calor. Humidade. Confusao. Comida estranha. Calor. Humidade.

Africa.

Ciclos

Um repetir do post de 12 de Novembro de 2003. Hoje é mesmo necessário repetí-lo.

Sem titulo

She
May be the face I can't forget.
A trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay.
She may be the song that summer sings.
May be the chill that autumn brings.
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day.

She
May be the beauty or the beast.
May be the famine or the feast.
May turn each day into a heaven or a hell.
She may be the mirror of my dreams.
A smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell

She who always seems so happy in a crowd.
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud
No one's allowed to see them when they cry.
She may be the love that cannot hope to last
May come to me from shadows of the past.
That I'll remember till the day I die

She
May be the reason I survive
The why and wherefore I'm alive
The one I'll care for through the rough and ready years
Me I'll take her laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I've got to be
The meaning of my life is

She, she, she

Elvis Costelo

She knows who she is.

Phase 2

Today we got to the 2nd level in our license for piloting boats. We can now legally skipper boats up to 24m and without limit in horsepower, 5 miles from the coast and 10 miles from safe harbour.

It also marked the first time we handled a sail boat. This was definitely the high point of the day - even though the sails were down, i.e. we were just motoring.

A great way to end off the year.

Enjoo

Pois é, isto é tudo muito bonito mas quando toca ao enjoo, vai lá vai.

Hoje foi um grande dia de mar (ou antes, rio). Começamos de manhã com chuva a cair, a fazer mais uma vez as manobras de salvamento de homem ao mar. Tendo saído da Doca de Sto. Amaro fomos descendo pelo Tejo abaixo sem que o São Pedro nos conseguisse desanimar.

Até aqui tudo bem. Aliás, eu diria mesmo que foi memorável, ver Lisboa a partir do rio, e sobretudo nas alturas em que haviam abertas e o ar ficava límpido. Mas já quase á saída da barra, a ondulação começou a mudar...

E foi aí que voltamos para trás. E foi aí que as coisas mudaram. Subitamente os marujos até ali de espirito leve começaram a ficar..., brancos. Mas vá lá, vá lá, ninguem chegou a chamar por São Gregório.

Após um bom almoço, lá voltamos para fazer as manobras de atracação. O que, com uma embarcação de 10 metros não é assim tão facil quanto se pense. Especialmente para quem não tem experiência e quando a embarcação que normalmente tem dois motors a funcionar, hoje, só tinha um. Mas, felizmente, correu tudo bem para os marujos. E para o dono do barco, claro...

E assim está feita a parte práctica deste curso de Patrão Local.

Friends

Here's a warm hello to all you Johnies out there. Canada, UK, Germany and S.A.

Desilusão

Parabens Valencia.

:(

Suspense

The destiny of the America's Cup for 2007 is hanging in the balance for 4 cities, one of which is the one we live in.

Like the prelude to the decision of where the olympic games will be held, I imagine thousands of people must be full of ansiety to know the result.

We're one of them.

Stroll by the marina

Nothing like a calm walk down by the river on a grey November afternoon, seeing the moored boats lying peacefully in the marina. The gracefullness of these vessels ignites the sea passion in those that are receptive to it.

The older, wooden and more classical lines are the ones that do it for me.

Charts

Today sees the first attempt at plotting a course on a chart.

With the use of two squares and a compass (to measure distances with) and the variables spoken about two logs ago, two points were plotted: starting and arrival. The distance between the two was calculated and, given a certain speed, the E.T.A. - estimated time of arrival - was also obtained.

The first chart was off the Algarve coast, in the region of Portimão to Albufeira. The second was off Peniche with the Berlenga isle as destination.

Azimute, marcação e linha de posição

Numa navegação costeira, é necessário saber onde está a embarcação. Para tal, observam-se pontos conspicuos como por exemplo, farois, e mede-se o ângulo que a linha da proa verdadeira faz com os mesmos - azimute.

Ao interceptar mais do que um azimute temos a localização da embarcação.

A marcação é a medida para bombordo ou para estibordo a partir da proa verdadeira até ao objecto.

A linha de posição é o traço mais provavel onde a embarcação se irá encontrar.

Creoula

Today marked a couple of firsts:

João and dad's first visit to the oceanarium - wow.

João's first time aboard a ship - the 1937 codfish fishing ship "Creoula"

50% of the living species are in the oceans. Seeing the apparent peace through a glass, those magestic beasts so streamlined and graceful, contrasts with the ugliness created by man on land. The diversity is really overwhelming. A recomended visit.

The Creoula inspires the sea spirit. This four masted sea vessel all painted in white sets one dreaming of long passes at sea with the wind in sail and the breeze through one's hair.

Declinação e Desvio

A relação entre os 3 nortes é a seguinte:

Mede-se a Declinação em relação ao Norte verdadeiro dando-nos o Norte magnético

Mede-se o Desvio em relação ao Norte magnético dando-nos o Norte da agulha

Os ângulos criados entre estas marcações e a linha de popa-proa são:

Proa verdadeira, proa magnética e a proa da agulha.

North Star

Existem 3 Nortes:

Norte verdadeiro
O ponto onde o eixo de rotação da terra passa na superficie terrestre

Norte magnetico
Local onde as linhas imaginárias do campo magnético da terra convergem no hemisfério norte

Norte da agulha
Dado que as embarcações possuem sempre objecto metálicos (ferrosos), as agulhas (bussolas) sofrem influências e apresentam um desvio em relação ao norte magnético. Esta é portanto uma indicação dada por uma agulha.

As cartas de navegação vêm sempre referênciadas ao Norte verdadeiro.

Para se descobrir o Norte verdadeiro numa noite sem nuvens ou nevoeiro, basta procurar a estrela polar (North Star).

Sem titulo

She
May be the face I can't forget.
A trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay.
She may be the song that summer sings.
May be the chill that autumn brings.
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day.

She
May be the beauty or the beast.
May be the famine or the feast.
May turn each day into a heaven or a hell.
She may be the mirror of my dreams.
A smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell

She who always seems so happy in a crowd.
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud
No one's allowed to see them when they cry.
She may be the love that cannot hope to last
May come to me from shadows of the past.
That I'll remember till the day I die

She
May be the reason I survive
The why and wherefore I'm alive
The one I'll care for through the rough and ready years
Me I'll take her laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I've got to be
The meaning of my life is

She, she, she

Elvis Costelo

Latitude and longitude

Começou ontem a segunda fase no preparamento para a o mar.

Este segundo curso tem como principal acréscimo noções de navegação começando por definir as linhas para determinação da localização de um ponto na esfera terrestre.

Eixo de rotação da terra (que define os polos - norte e sul)
Equador - divide a esfera em hemisfério norte e sul
Meridiano de Greenwich - a partir do qual se medem os outros meridianos
Latitude - ângulo medido entre equador e lugar
Longitude - ângulo medido entre meridiano de Greenwich e lugar

Outra vez o tempo

Cloud cover over Europe in the last 24 hours (click me)

License to be a sailor

It´s oficial, as of today this would be sailor has a license to be on a boat and skipper it. Be though it may with some restrictions, but a first step never-the-less, to the dream of far away lands and cultures.

The restrictions imply that the boat can be no longer than 7 meters and sailing is limited to 3 miles off the coast and no more than 6 miles from a port. Sailing at night is also not permitted.

The next level stretches the limits somewhat, plus broadens the knowledge regarding sailing with charts and plotting courses.

Stay tunned.

Winds of Change

Today's log serves to give you a great link to all things related to weather. Have a look in the links area.

Fim da Primeira Parte

Chegou ontem ao fim a primeira parte do curso de marinheiro. Assim, após sete sessões intensas de nós, segurança, regras para evitar abalroamento, primeiros soccorros, marés e muita nomenclatura, passamos á fase de apuramento, ou seja, o exame.

Este é constituido por parte teórica e parte prática. Assim, quem estiver interessado poderá ir até á doca de Stº Amáro no Domingo de manhã para ver 5 pretensos marinheiros a manobrar uma embarcação. Por sorte, esta não se chama Titanic.

Já repararam que não existe nenhuma embarcação com este nome... por que será?

Apitos

Um apito curto - virar a estibordo

Dois apitos curtos - virar a bombordo

Três apitos curtos - máquinas á ré

Cinco apitos curtos - não percbo a manobra de outra embarcação

Primeiros socorros

112 - Número de emergência Europeu

808 250 143 - CIAV - Centro de Informações Antiveneno - em caso de envenenamento

Temperatura média do corpo humano - 36,5º

Nº de batimentos cardiacos de adulto saudável - 60 a 80 por minuto

Queimaduras:

1º Grau - pele vermelha e quente sem danos de tecido
2º Grau - formação de bolhas
3º Grau - tecido danificado

Baptism

And what a baptism it turned out to be! Having caught the ferry from Lisbon to Barreiro early in the morning, certain objects already started to have names and functions out in the water that before just passed by almost unnoticed.

Buoys and beacons with different colours, shapes and numbers, delineating safe passages through the river, implementing canals where ships have certain ways in which to pass each other (here in Europe we keep to the right with the green buoys on starboard side) and also danger areas where ships must avoid passing.

How wierd it is to pass by these objects now and really see them. It was the same with marinas and ports a few months ago. They were there, I saw them but it didn't register like everything related to the sea now registers.

Trully like learning a language that up until the moment had not been understandable. You hear, you know it's there but it doesn't mean much. Until you start to learn the vocabulary.

So it was with this thought in mind that I arrived at Barreiro´s ferry station and prepared for my baptism at sea. The weather, which you now have to become more aware of as well, was very cloudy with rain forecast. Never-the-less, after a breafing with Master Barradas, we got on his boat (5 of us and him) and headed out into a small bay where we started our practical training.

Of course it started to drizzle, but this actually added to the excitement and general seaman atmosphere. Going into the wind with the rain in your face, being in command of a boat for the first time has a special feel to it. Besides feeling wet, of course. Clearly, if you're out to become a sailor, expect to get wet.

Not that we were drentched, and at no time did the rain actually become uncomfortable. This was the weather destined for out baptism. The wind beat from a southerly direction ('don't know the name for this wind yet...) and the drizzle sometimes abaited sometimes became more intense, but being too involved in what was being said, it didn't really matter. The sky was obviously very overcast and grey, all in all, a very wintry day.

So we learn't how to do several manouvers with the boat taking turns at the wheel, culminating in the man overboard rescue manouver, and achoring. Pretty simple with a motor powered boat. What I really want to get at is true sailing. You know, with sails.

Nomenclatura

Being on a sea vessel involves a new language. Aqui estão alguns termos para começar:

Vante - frente

Ré - trás

Proa - parte á vante da embarcação

Popa - parte á ré

Bombordo - virado para a proa, o lado esquerdo

Estibordo - idem, o lado direito

Través - direcção a meio de bombordo ou estibordo

Amura - idem a 45º de bombordo ou estibordo a partir da proa

Alheta - idem a partir da popa

Quilha - parte inferior da embarcação que sustenta as balizas

Contra quilha - reforço das balizas por cima da quilha

Roda de Proa - prolongamento da quilha á vante

Contra roda de proa - prolongamento da contra quilha á vante

Cadaste - prolongamento da quilha á ré

Contra cadaste - prolongamento da contra quilha á ré

Baliza - costela da embarcação que lhe dá forma

Linha de água - linha de água

Obras vivas - partes e objectos abaixo da linha de água

Obras mortas - idem acima da linha de água

Comprimento - comprimento máximo da embarcação

Boca - largura máxima

Pontal - distancia da quilha á borda

Calado - idem á linha de água

Sotavento - direcção para onde o vento sopra

Barlavento - direcção de onde o vento sopra

And many more. Feel free to coment and translate.

Knots Landing

Anyone remember the TV soap from the eighties??

Back to the future...

Ropes are a fundamental piece of hardware on any sea fairing vesel. Dealing with knots for joining and ending ropes has become over the ages, an art.

Assim sendo temos:

Nó direito - para unir dois cabos (cordas) de bitola (espessura) igual
Square knot

Nó torto - como é torto não serve para grande coisa

Nó de escota singelo - para unir cabos de bitola diferente
Sheet bend

Nó de escota dobrado - igual mas com mais uma volta e mais seguro
Doubled sheet bend

Nó de azelha - como o nome indica não é grande nó

Nó de catau - para reparar uma parte dum cabo enfraquecido
Sheep shank

Lais de guia pelo chicote - quando se atraca para amarrar a embarcação
Bowline

Lais de guia pronto a disparar - igual mas solta-se rápidamente

Lais de guia pelo seio - para suspender um marinheiro em trabalhos na embarcação

Voltas de cunho - para amarrar a embarcação quando se atraca
Cleat knot

Volta de fiel pelo chicote - para segurar as defensas
Clove hitch

Falcassa de chicote mordido - para que o cabo não se desenlace no chicote (ponta)

Voltar aqui para ver mais nós no futuro.

...há ir e voltar

Começou hoje o que se pode considerar como o primeiro passo duma viagem já tantas vezes começada por outros: as lições nas coisas de marujos. Sim, porque a apologia de que se deve ir e depois aprender como, nem sempre tem as melhores consequências.

Simple things that can make a difference: seat-belts in a car, helmet and gloves on a bike and lifejackets on a boat can at least let our conscience rest a little easier.

So today, at least for today, safety comes first.

A reter, portanto:

No caso da embarcação se afundar, saltar com o colete salva-vidas posto por cima da roupa (e não tirar a roupa pensando que poderá nadar melhor - a ideia não é nadar mas sim preservar energia para se aguentar o pior inimigo - o frio) com um braço cruzado ao peito e a mão livre a tapar o nariz e boca.

Ter objectos que permitam uma facil identificação do homem ao mar - chamados "man-overboard" (os objectos, claro) - já que no mar não existem pontos de referência para calcularmos distâncias e direcções.

Pirotécnicos para chamar atenção.

A hipotermia mata em algumas horas! Um rádio baliza e uma balsa salva-vidas são essenciais.

Os fogos não são nossos amigos apesar de termos muitos litros de água a rodear a embarcação: o extintor de pó polivalente pode dar jeito.

Para já, isto e mais, e muito bom senso, poderá deixar as consciencias mais tranquilas quando se está cercado pelo horizonte e nele apenas se avista... o nada.

Sleep tight oh little seeds. There is sea and sea, there is going and returning.