thegoodfellas/blogset-br huggingface dataset:
in order to get from one place to another. This is roughly the same situation that the Western Zone of Rio de Janeiro experiences regarding the new and the old, the crowded and the empty, the clean and the filthy, the rich and the poor. This is one of the things these two cities do have in common: the one side cannot understand the other and therefore teases and taunts it s adversary about not qualifying as being the true heart of each of their respective cities. "You don t live in Rio if you can t see the ocean." they say. "Petropolis is Pedro s city and you must be able to take walks around the Imperial Museum if you want to feel the soul of The Imperial City." Now, what should I say about dress codes? Let s see, Cariocas think nothing of slipping on a pair of flip-flops and heading off to the store for a beer, making small talk with anyone they find along the way. This is nearly unacceptable by Petropolitan standards, where taking pride in dressing up forms part of their public profile. Petropolis city dwellers will often spend over an hour fixing themselves up just for a short stint, since their climate most certainly allows for over dressing in leather shoes and sometimes even complete with a scarf. On the other hand, for a hot climate Carioca this makes no sense because clothes are not compatible with heat. Consequently, whenever a citizen of Rio de Janeiro moves their residence up into the Sea Mountains, they are frowned on by the locals for not taking clothes seriously, or even for their choice of radiant colors; Petropolitans prefer the quieter shades. I ve even noticed how much more brightly painted Rio s buses are in comparison with the Imperial City s transportation system. Perhaps all these colors are attributable to the Portuguese maritime fishing culture where boats and houses were often set in gay hues. Of course, residents within the three mountain cities remind me that today things are not as they once were. Supposedly Petropolis used to have so little contact with the rest of Southeastern Brazil that it was easy to secure such rigid traditions, but that since the advent of internet and modern transport systems all these rules are now changing fast. This may be the case, however, I believe that some traditions fit so well into a city s environment that in such a case as that of Petropolis, they will never fully adopt Rio de Janeiro s characteristics, nor would Cariocas ever truly want them to. So if ever you find yourself on Copacabana beach down in Rio de Janeiro, be sure to ask a Carioca for their opinion on the Imperial City; and when they tell you that Petropolis is an island lost in the Southeast of Brazil, you ll understand why...
On the side of 'the interstate br-40', which links Rio de Janeiro to both Belo Horzonte and the north of Brazil, I keep waiting for a bus that just won t come. I study for my next English language class which will be with the director of 'GE Celma', a place where jet turbines are overhauled in Petropolis. Then, as a bunch of filthy trucks pass by on the highway, leaving me in a cloud of smoke, I turn to the German-English dictionary to check if a certain Anglo-Saxon word is German or Latin based. I notice that the word for 'Magic Wand' is 'Zauberstab', but that the word 'Verwandeln' in German means 'To Transform'. That s it, the word Magic Wand in English must also mean to transform! You must understand that I could really use a Magic Wand to beam myself straight to work right now. Suddenly, as a 'Danish Maersk Sealand truck' comes chugging up the grade, I decide to look up the word 'Wand' alone, just to make sure I m really onto something interesting. However, it translates into Wall; a division between to spaces; and how about 'Ander'? I see that 'Ander' means 'another'; like in 'Andermatt Switzerland', or 'another Swiss meadow'. Hey I like that; 'Wand', 'Verwandeln', 'Ander'- to switch to another or 'Transform'! 'Wand' probably employs the word 'Ander' to suggest that it moves something from one place to another. How s that for studying on the side of the highway while waiting for a bus that never comes? I look over to the other 'would be passengers' to check if they ve seen the bus, but the women are holding babies and talking about what makes them so much tougher than their husbands. In the case of the men, the conversation is about why their wives can t keep them locked up at home. I hold my breath as a china shipping convoy growls it s way up the highway past my bus stop; black smoke filling our lungs with toxins, but still no bus. I glance at my watch to make sure I still have time to arrive at work, who wants to lose two hundred bucks because of a faulty transport system. The next truck to approach on the BRASIL-40 interstate highway is my favorite transport company, 'Hamburg Sud', since they were responsible for bringing European immigrants to the southern states of Brazil in the 1800 s. They, like many other trucks, always travel in pairs for road security, and that keeps me entertained because I know there ll always be another one after the first passes, and flashes of yesteryear will go through my mind when I think of hitchhiking around northern Germany as a young man. I figure these trucks are evidence that the port city of Hamburg still exists, for as long as these containers keep passing by on this Brazilian road, there has got to be a port. I keep imagining the cargo coming up from 'Sud Amerika', and being unloaded onto trains under foggy North Sea skies.
Finally, as these red shipping containers leave me behind, my late bus arrives, but it s too full to get into. I m not feeling gay today to ride like sardines, and will just have to wait for the next one. A thick layer of ocean fog begins rolling into the deep mountain valley now until eventually we are all enveloped in it s cleanliness. Clouds seem cold and clean but their dampness hurts my lungs, especially since I m a Southern California man. After some minutes I start pretending that Petropolis is a place called Hamburg Sud, and continue imagining loading docks down in Rio de Janeiro lifting these heavy containers onto 'Dampshifffahrers', or 'huge ships' bound for Europe. I return to my dictionary and look up the word 'Augenblick' which I d picked up from my favorite news channel- the Deutsche Welle'; the word means 'A Moment'. I now flip through the musty old pages (everything in Petropolis gets musty), and what comes up for 'Augen' is 'eye' and for 'Blick' is 'blink or glance'. Wait a second, the term for 'Moment' in a German s mind is seen as 'a glance of the eye'?! 'Augenblick' or 'eye blink', is that right?. I step back from the pavement to let another truck convoy pass; it s an 'Itaipava beer truck' this time. Oh, this beer brewing company is Brazilian, I remind myself, and I make up a new theory that the cleanest trucks are national companies. The multinationals such as 'White Martins' tend to keep their minds on the money and not worry about what their dirty trucks look like. Glancing over now at the pretty girls who ve just arrived, and taken shelter from the advancing cloud drizzle under the bus stop roof, I see that they return my attention till I become self conscious; I m married, I can t keep looking at them. But their stares inspire a thought. What will become of the forgotten people of the world as these big businesses come creeping in and gobbling up all the resources? Then I notice that every other truck that passes honks their horns at the girls. The teenagers sometimes yell back in fun- "Is your money the kind that folds or the kind that jingles?" That s what it s all about when you re family can t make ends meet. I get mad at the Brazilian government, and start swearing under my breath- They ll never invest any real money to fix this mess, will they? According to my dictionary 'Vergangenheit' is the German word for the past. Brazil s destructive and negligent past allowed endless children to be born, but the country never invested in them. Perhaps this hard reality will change soon, with all these multinational companies clogging up the highways... The fog is coming in thick now, almost like a blast of refrigerated air, cooling my overheated body; nice. I fan my face with the book as my thoughts go back to childhood visits during winter, before I became aware that Petropolis
actually gets hot in the summer. The next truck to work it s way up the pavement is 'Malibu Transports'. I must say that they run a clean show for a foreign company; no black sided trucks. Also the exhaust pipe faces left instead of right so the 'would be passengers', practically sleeping at the bus stop by now, don t get smoked out this time. I think back to my dad counting till- 'four' and then pretending to fine the transport company for not overhauling their engines when they got worn out, like the highway patrol used to do back in California; good attitude Malibu! I think the future of the world is to be able to ship apples from California so that Australians can eat them out of season, and produce cheap shoes in china so that Americans can still afford to be nicely dressed even if they lose their jobs, and all this without messing up everybody s countries. Let s check the dictionary under the heading 'future' shall we? Oh, in German it s 'Zukunft', or 'Still to Come'. Of course, the future hasn t yet arrived, it is still coming. Languages are quite logical, aren t they! Finally as a 'Transpallet Passenger Jet Turbine Transport Truck' passes us on it s way to the same place I m going, I see another bus. A bus!!! Hold on, I must just make sure it isn t a mirage... No, it s a real bus! Checking my watch I realize that I ve been waiting for one hour already. That s Brazil. It stops and I get on. All the windows are closed because most Brazilians have an aversion to rain and cold, so the bus is like a moving sauna and I begin trying to take off my jacket, but without success, since the bus is too full for me to move. The final stop is inside 'the Bingen bus terminal' where I hop onto a cool and empty bus towards downtown. I get off in front of GE Celma just as the next wave of fog blasts past me, freezing the air again. Their compressor house is working at full force to keep the overhauls going as night falls, and the tractors are beeping their way around the buildings in order to unload jet turbines from 'the Transpallet trucks' which pull up one after the other. I think back to my childhood and understand what makes this place seem so familiar to me. I remember going skiing at Snow Summit Ski Area in Southern California as a kid, when my dad was still alive and supervising the mechanic s office there. It was always on Friday nights when the entire school would be skiing, and the snow making jets sounded like turbines, as delicate ice particles filled the cold air. Suddenly, I recall the German word for 'The Past' which is 'Vergangenheit', and philosophize about how we carry memories around with us till the end of our lives, even when we move far away from home. I
was bound to find something familiar down here in the foggy mountains of Petropolis. At last , I put on my visitor s badge and walk through the gates, thinking about just how educational my Brazilian commutes always turn out to be.
Serendipity s Matterhorn is on its way to becoming a household name seeing as it is at once modern and archaic. Who has ever heard of a Hansel and Gretel remake set way down south in the Brazilian mountain town of Petropolis. Of course this little city was settled by German immigrants in the 1800 s, created and still owned by a royal family, and has lots of fog-shrouded woods in which to shelter an old gingerbread house. Some of the main characters will surely be found dancing at the Oktoberfest, which is actually held during the June and July winter months when the sun is low and the shadows are long. Does anyone know the reason behind the story s name? I won t be able to reveal this for fear of spoiling the plot, but I will say that children confuse facts on account of their worlds being so small, so you can imagine that if Serendipity were a boy s name, then his Matterhorn must be some mountain. Now the trail is getting warmer, since you may know that there are three of these mountains to the story; The Rio Matterhorn, The Disneyland Matterhorn, and The Real Swiss Matterhorn... How could a child of five understand this difference? So then Serendipity s Matterhorn begins in the perfect place since, being only an hour or so from the city of Rio de Janeiro where The Rio Matterhorn towers above, tends to create a zone of friction between the cool, quiet mountain world of the Petropolitan Europeans, and the noisy, bustling and hot atmosphere of the typically Brazilian city of Rio down on the beach below. There is a certain irony to the whole story, since multiple worlds often do exist side by side, and a potential reader of the book will also soon discover that although a person matures, their deepest emotions tend to continue driving at the same unfulfilled childhood desires. If Hansel and Gretel were a pair of kids left to perish in the midst of a deep forest, then perhaps they would have needed this wretched experience to uncover a bad stepmother s, and an ugly witch s plan. Maybe this is the only way a person can grow up to the ranks of a beautiful white swan, and feel the lightness of flight through a bright morning sun, towards a new beginning ... If you pick up Serendipity s Matterhorn, A Contemporary Fairy Tale, I promise that you ll only put it back down after you ve finished it. E finalmente eu voltei, quer dizer, pretendo ter voltado de vez..Andei perdida em meus pensamentos, momentos e papeis, sim, troquei o meu diario virtual por simples folhas de caderno com palavras rabiscadas, e sinceramente? Nada que suprisse a minha necessidade de desabafos, nao sei, e estranho escrever no papel, parece que nao tem a mesma firmeza, e dificil explicar, mas eu cheguei a conclusao que prefiro o meu espaco colorido, as minhas palavras brancas, os meus registros separados por mes, enfim, meu lar doce lar, meu blog.Definitivamente
revoltas me inspiram mais do que uma vida cheia de cores e de ar sereno, mas hoje eu nao sei o que aconteceu, meu estado de espirito esta extremamente positivo e ainda assim eu estava morrendo de vontade de brincar com as minhas amigas palavras. Perai, como assim eu nao sei o que aconteceu? Eu sei sim, e como sei.. Sabe aquela historia de ver o valor nas menores coisas? E, meu bom humor esta realmente em alto nivel, essa parada de valor nas menores coisas e tao broxante, mas tao verdadeira. Um dia, algumas risadas, poucas pessoas, muito valor, diversos sorrisos, inumeros minutos, varios pensamentos, intensos desejos e uma palavra, somente uma palavra.Sobre o dia de hoje, eu estava com saudades de cozinhar, de fazer piadinhas, de ser util, de chamar de mae quem nao e minha mae de verdade, de chamar de amor o meu bebe pequeno e meu nenem grande, de trocar uma ideia esperta com a minha avo, que nao e minha, enfim, de dedicar um tempo a minha segunda familia, o meu pequeno refugio.Ps. Parabens pro meu amor pequeno, quero logo os 4 anos pra rolar um skate.
Boa noite.Ja comecei logo pique Jornal Nacional ne? Como se eu estivesse pra isso, bem pelo contrario, acordei virada do avesso, nao sei o que me deu..Hoje pensei em aproveitar o meu momento pra postar alguma coisa diversificada, nada de textinho mela cueca, to decepcionando a faccao dos orgulhosos e prepotentes com esses posts. Resolvi falar de transporte publico, mais especificamente dos trolebus (nao e troleibus como dizem as placas da Metra, mas trolebus), AHAM, alguem vai me zoar pelo assunto, tenho certeza absoluta que ja vai pensar besteira, so dou duas dicas pra voce acertar quem vai encher meu saco com isso, o nome da pessoa comeca com BRU e termina com NA, quem conseguir acertar pode se presentear com um grande e forte tapa na testa, voltando, vou falar dos trolebus mesmo, afinal, tenho experiencia com eles (risada gigante de alguem agora), eu os utilizo todos os dias, as situacoes dentro dele sao as mais diversas, citarei as mais irritantes:1) Jovens irritantes portando celular com alto falante.Meu, voce sabe o que e fone de ouvido? E, talvez voce ate saiba, mas existe uns filhas da puta que nao sabem, ou que sabem, mas nao entendem a utilidade do mesmo, mas agora me diz, o que custa tornar pessoal o momento de desfrutar do seu lixo musical? Sim, lixo musical, porque eu NUNCA vi alguem com um bom gosto musical expondo suas musicas pro trolebus inteiro ouvir, sempre e um MC SouPobreMasTocoNoTrolebus ou aquele pagode bem safado do Grupo Construindo a Laje, deixo aqui meu pedido muito educado aos queridos amigos que nao tem o menor senso de ridiculo, DESLIGA ESSA PORRA DE CELULAR SEU GRANDE FILHA DA PUTA, obrigada.2) Criancas de ate 12 anos que nao sabem sentar a bunda na porcaria do banco e ficar quieta, parece que tem que experimentar todos os bancos pra ve se algum vai vibrar ou alguma coisa assim, fora que fica gritando pra sua super mae pamonha que parece achar lindo a exposicao de deficiencia mental do filho, 'MAAAAE, JA POSSO DAR O SINAL?', me explica, eu deixei de sentir alguma sensacao ou aquele botao nao oferece nenhum tipo de prazer quando apertado? Ah ta, um dia eu descubro de quem e a doenca, da futilidade alheia ou a minha falta de paciencia.3) Nossos queridos e amaveis idosos, eu sempre achei os velhinhos bem simpaticos, depois de comecar a utilizar os trolebus eu tomei uma verdadeira raiva desses seres super experientes que nao sabem porra nenhuma, afinal, nunca sabem que devem embarcar pela porta da frente e esmurram o trolebus caso o motorista nao abra a porta de tras, AHAM, isso mesmo, hoje eu presenciei uma super figura de cabelos brancos chutando o trolebus porque o motorista nao abriu a porta de tras, e e esse mesmo filho da puta que vai brigar com voce ou fazer cara de cachorro sem dono do seu lado caso voce esteja sentado e nao haja lugar vazio pra ele, afinal, socar o onibus todo mundo aguenta, mas pra viajar em pe eles reclamam. Fora a necessidade
que eles tem de utilizar o transporte publico no horario de pico, o infeliz e aposentado, nao faz nada da vida e tem que entrar com as varias sacolas do supermercado cheias de caixa de leite e tomate da promocao no trolebus, e ops, caso voce esbarre na sacola voce toma bronca, afinal, onde ja se viu ter que comer tomate amassado?Deixo aqui as minhas observacoes e indignacoes com o comportamento social dentro do transporte publico.
Dos tempos da minha frequencia assidua a esse blog ate o presente momento ocorreram inumeras mudancas, isso e incontestavel, porem, o que pode ser mais destacado e o fato do meu sentimentalismo diminuir a cada dia mais, ha quem diga que e uma forma de esconder alguma coisa errada na minha vida, ha tambem quem diga que e rebeldia adolescente e acima de tudo, EU digo que e a melhor forma de se viver. Nao precisa necessariamente nao amar ninguem, voce pode amar, ou melhor, deve; Deve amar a voce mesmo, deve respeitar os seus limites, aprender a conviver com o seu humor, ressaltar o seu carater, afinal, quem e que dedica tempo e paciencia pra fazer tudo isso por voce?Existe o famoso slogan "Amor, passe adiante!", pois eu discordo completamente, vai passar adiante pra que? Com certeza sera feito um extremo mau uso, portanto deveriamos alterar a frase para "Amor, enfie no bolso!", obvio que o seu proprio amor direcionado a voce rendera um grande resultado. Eu nao sei por que as pessoas tem a mania de achar que dependem de algum outro ser vivo pra viver, voce nao nasceu grudado com ninguem, nao nasceu respirando pelo nariz do outro, como e que voce me diz que nao vive sem determinada pessoa?Dos ultimos meses pra ca eu vivi os melhores e os piores momentos de toda a minha vida ate agora, tirei um aprendizado excepcional, aprendi mais com os erros dos outros do que com os meus, ao contrario do que reza a lenda. Convivi com muitas pessoas e refleti inumeras vezes sobre, ate onde uma pessoa consegue ser sincera e ate onde ela mente pra confortar outra?Nem de longe e um texto admiravel ou algo assim, so uma introducao da volta, que eu espero ser definitiva.PS. As perguntas no final de cada paragrafo nao sao a toa, pense sobre.. Intrigante o fato de nos seres humanos nos limitarmos tanto. Seria conveniencia, comodismo, ou simplesmente falta de vontade misturada com aceitacao? Acho que cada um deve ter seus motivos para tal atitude. Hoje contemplando o sol se por, e as nuvens escuras se aglomerarem para darem inicio a chuva, eu pude perceber o quao unico e um dia, nao havera outro momento com as mesmas cores, as mesmas formas, o mesmo balanco da arvore. Engracado nos limitarmos aos mesmos obstaculos, as mesmas desculpas e a nossa mesma infame vida. E completamente compreensivel a visao humana deixar com que no futuro as coisas acontecam. Nao discordarei, acho que realmente as coisas devem acontecer naturalmente, porem, nao vejo problemas em evitar desde ja o que voce sabe que nao tera um bom desenvolvimento futuramente. A questao enfim, nao e somente tomar atitudes desmedidas no presente, mas ter condicoes de interpretar os indicios das condicoes futuras, e nao se conformar com o que acredita que deva acontecer, mas sim, alterar as condicoes atuais para evitar ou ao menos amortecer as consequencias. Sera que mudar por voce, esta tao fora do contexto humano? A capacidade de mudar habitos pelo proximo e tao natural, mudamos muitas
vezes de amigos, mudamos nossos conceitos, quando queremos algo ou alguem, assim, procurando o cliche da felicidade, em terceiros. Seria tao impossivel mudar por nos? Felizes sao aqueles que baseiam sua felicidade em um principio cabivel, realizacao.