thegoodfellas/blogset-br huggingface dataset:
to speak the languages of both countries? If not them, who? You ain't gonna get tourists that way, guys. Better fix this up by 2014. Besides that, I have been taking the first steps towards applying for a M.A. in Linguistics in Europe. I recently sent copies of my transcripts to one university to see if it would be appropriate to apply, and they replied, that no, it would not be, because their M.A. programme assumed a B.A. in Linguistics, or similar. I spent the last days angrily composing a letter in German explaining that I do, in fact have a B.A. in Linguistics.Otherwise, today, some client for whom I did a translation, sent it back with 'corrections'. They only had a couple of corrections which were correct - the rest were synonyms for the words that I had chosen - which were wrong. I made those choices because they were still accurate, but more appropriate-sounding in English than the literal translation. I'm stubborn, and I'm right. Four years of English classes at FISK can't equal a native English speaker, and certainly not a translator. (Again - I am not a professional translator but I have studied a lot about it so I have some idea, at least. I have also studied several languages to fluency so I know the amount of time and dedication that it takes.)Another angry, sarcastic post. I'm hoping to reduce the number of such angry posts in the near future, I'm hoping. I'm hoping... *To clarify: I also think Australian Consulate Officers are useless; Iranian Consulate Officers are useless... from personal experience. For haters: IT IS NOT JUST A DIG AT BRAZIL!
The other night, while still at our old republica, Guillaume and I went to get some acai at the fruit stall just near our house. There, on the steps near the fruit stall was a very-neatly-trimmed grey Maltese puppy, looking up at his owner who was having his acai. 'He's so cuuute', I squealed to Guillaume, 'he looks fresh, fresh out of a banho e tosa, as though he literally walked out of a grooming session before coming here!' Guillaume agreed in regards to the Maltese's cuteness, but disagreed with my remark, 'If he had just walked out of a grooming session he would have a lot of glittery shit stuck to his forehead, Shiva.'I had to concur. This is something that I have noticed about Brazil in general: Brazilians absolutely love their dogs. And they demonstrate this love through the use of cute costumes, hair accessories, glittery jewels, and hairdoes on their canine friends. Cats do not seem to be nearly as popular.I first became aware of this national obsession when visiting my friend Rodrigo's home in Pocos de Caldas, Minas Gerais. He also had a cute little Maltese named Nina, whose hair was adorned with little clips and who had a little diamante stuck to the middle of her forehead, almost like an Indian bindi. I asked him, why did Nina have a bindi on her forehead? 'She came from her banho e tosa (bath) like that. They always put decorations like that on her. At Christmas, they put green and red for example...' I remember finding this very amusing. Since then I haven't ceased to notice the extravagant dog-decorations on the Brazilian dogs I see in the streets.This is the connection that my brain makes everytime I see one of these Brazilian toy puppies with diamantes stuck to their furry foreheads. Unfortunately, the original Nina was unavailable for a photo at the time of writing this blog as she lives 5 hours away in Minas Gerais.That's okay - It's funny, and most of all, cuuute!!!!! Yesterday I got back from my Foz/Paraguay Trip (#2). Hang on, I can hear you saying, didn't you already blog about this, Shiva? Well, yes, I went there about 6 weeks ago, and now I've just gone back to get a tourist visa, as my student visa was going to expire. On Sunday we went on a 16 hour bus trip to Foz do Iguacu. When we arrived at 8am, we hopped straight on a bus to Paraguay. At this point it was already well above 30 C. A girl even fainted in the seat behind me on that bus ride. We crossed over into Paraguay within an hour (normally it takes about 20, 30 minutes - it was peak hour), by just passing over a river. On both ends of the bridge there are customs offices but...nobody (really, nobody) stops at them. We made it to the consulate office in Ciudad del Este a few minutes walk later. I showed the lady my documents. She said, "oh, where is the stamp to say
that you left Brazil?" Oh, fuck. Seriously? I had totally forgotten about that. Isn't the fact that I am here in Paraguay proof that I left Brazil? "Go back to Brazil and pretend you are entering for the first time", she told us. We walked about 30 minutes back over the bridge to Brazil, had breakfast next to the bridge, and walked back. I entered into the Federal Police's office (naturally, Guillaume and I were the only two people in there) and asked for an exit stamp. Guillaume asked the employee if it was usually this quiet. Hoje esta tranquilo, mas normalmente tembastante gente, she responded, "Today it's quiet, but normally there are quite a lot of people". We left with an exit stamp in our passports, wondering if by bastante gente she meant two, three, or possibly four more people. We walked across the bridge to Paraguay. While walking, Guillaume mentioned that the consulate in Bolivia had written back to him after he made some enquiries about my visa application, saying that in order to come to Bolivia to get a visa from them I would have to first get a visa to enter Bolivia. "Imagine that!" I chortled. Arriving at the end of the bridge, Guillaume grabbed me to go into the Paraguay customs office. I went and asked for an entry stamp. The man pointed to me and said (in Spanish, of course - on this whole trip we spoke Portuguese at people and they spoke Spanish at us), "She needs a visa". F**k. Up until this point I had thought that my temporary visa for Brazil gave me the rights to enter countries in the Mercosul area just like Brazilians had. For some reason I had just assumed it was like the Schengen Agreement. And I had been advised that (by a tour guide) about 6 weeks earlier when I crossed the border into Paraguay from Foz. "You can go to the Paraguayan consulate in Foz do Iguacu, or you can pay me $20", he suggested. (Paraguay uses US dollars because their currency is shit.) "You can get me a visa for $20?" I asked, not understanding that he had been asking me to bribe him. "No", he said. "Let's just walk out", I said to Guillaume, and we simply walked out into Paraguay. Walking from there to the Embassy we debated how to get around the problem of me having no entry stamp to Paraguay. When we arrived, the lady first approvingly looked at my exit stamp, then asked, confused, "But where is the entry stamp?" "They didn't give me one", I shrugged, "They said I didn't need it with my visa...I don't know why..." She looked confused but then took my documents for processing. Perhaps she was dumb, or perhaps she was just being nice because when we had first arrived at the embassy I had explained my sob story about how we were running on limited time and had had just enough time to come there with our holidays from Carnaval. Anyway, the important thing
was that I had an exit stamp from Brazil. Basically, the Brazilian consulate in Paraguay gave me a visa even though I was illegally in Paraguay. Hah.They told us to come back the next day, so we went and found a hostel on the Brazilian side. Foz do Iguacu is motherf***ing hot, so made sure it was one with A/C. We went to the waterfalls and went to a rodizio de churrasco for dinner. Rodizio is a (as far as I know) uniquely Brazilian style of dining. It is like a buffet where the waiters come to you to offer food. There is a salad buffet in one area of the restaurant, but the 'main' is served to you by waiters who walk up to your table and announce "(insert-name-of-meat-here)!", to which you say "Yes, please!", or "No, thanks", and they put it onto your plate. So far, I know of rodizios of churrasco (barbecue, meat), pizza, and sushi here in Brazil. This is something that Australia could take some advice on: all-you-can-eat type restaurants simply don't exist there anymore. I remember them as a child, though, up until about 1996... Eating out here in Brazil is great because rodizios and 'kilo' restaurants are very common - In a rodizio you pay a flat price (often at the equivalent of AUD 10) and can totally stuff yourself, and in a 'kilo' restaurant you can choose from a buffet and pay for the weight of your own plate, so you only eat what you want. In some places, they do it a little differently: you pay a flat price in a 'kilo' restaurant and you can take a plate full of whatever you like, but you if you leave anything on your plate you have to pay an extra 'fine'. Reasonable, right? I digress, back to visas.We came back the next day, already sweating furiously under the 9am sun, and payed the visa fee. I was supposed to get my visa that afternoon but ended up getting it the next morning due to *coughtheconsulateputtingupaclearlymisleadingsignregardingtheiropeninghourscough* a misunderstanding. On Wednesday morning, after at least 8 trips in and out of Paraguay, I got the bastard visa, and we decided to try to go to the bus station to see if we could change our tickets to leave from the Brazilian side instead (I had had to show proof of entry to Brazil at the consulate). We walked for about 40 minutes, much deeper into Paraguay than the average Brazilian-Moambeiro-Shopping Tourist probably has ever done, to find that bus station. To get to the entrance, we had to walk through a tent community. Yes. Anyway, we changed our tickets, got out of there, bought cheap European chocolates in US dollars, and 'entered' Brazil.Illegal in Paraguay A 'pub' that we passed every day on the way to the consulate. The sign reads: DUBLIN. THE AUTENTIC IRIS PUB. (sic) ...And what do they serve in this 'authentic' Irish pub? Sushi, of course. Yes, seriously, WTF?Brazilian borderThe beginning of ParaguayCiudad del Este...Oh, oh, am I in Paraguay or Brazil?
About three weeks back I took a 17 hour bus trip to Iguassu Falls, Parana, to spend a few days with my friend Simone. She is a Brazilian who I met last year when she came to study with her boyfriend at my university in Australia, and who was back home to spend the summer with her family.I arrived early in the morning, had breakfast and a chat in German with her gaucho father, and off we went to the Tres Fronteiras, where the three countries, Brazil, Argentina, and Paraguay meet. Later on, we went to the town's famous waterfalls, which, despite Simone's insistance that they were particularly 'dry' this year, were still amazingly impressive. Later in the afternoon, we went to the neighbouring Parque das Aves, a zoo where we were able to get close to and touch some toucans and araras. Parque das AvesCataratas - WaterfallsThat night, I met her aunt, uncle and cousin who had come down from Sao Paulo state to spend a few days in Iguassu. They were relatives from her Japanese side of the family, her mother's side. They were also enjoying popping over the border to Argentina and Paraguay to do some shopping during their stay. The next day, we joined them in Paraguay. Paraguay, for Brazilians, is shopping-central. It is not the most pleasant shopping environment (think: Manaus) but worth it for the money saved. We took a bus over the bridge which divided the two countries. On each end of the bridge was a former check-point, still standing but now more-or-less empty. Simone pointed out the tattered-looking fence on the sides of the bridge. Apparently, in order to get past the border guards, people used to buy contraband cigarettes in Paraguay and throw them over the side of the bridge to their 'business partners' waiting on the Brazilian side underneath the bridge (away from the guards). To counteract this, a barbed wire fence was put up. But people just made holes, and threw the cigarettes over anyway. And then the Brazilian government would fix them up again. And the smugglers would open them up again. Hence the tattered fences. Nowadays, thanks to Mercosul, the borders are pretty relaxed, and you can come and go as you please. When we took the bus back into Brazil, customs briefly stopped the bus, to pick on people with huge bags of purchases, and we went on our way. The next day, we went to Itaipu Binational, the second-largest hydroplant in the world. It powers practically all of Paraguay and about 20% of Brazil. It is a huge plant, with a huge number of employees, and has an important role in the region. On the way home from that excursion, I asked Simone about an anklet I had noticed her wearing the whole time I had been there. She explained that it was a Fita do Senhor do Bomfim, a little ribbon from Bahia, which is given as a gift. The user ties three knots into the ribbon, making a mental wish with each knot. When the
ribbon falls off, by disintegrating, the wishes are said to come true. The ribbon can only be given as a gift. Hearing this, I became very interested; I was, after all, in the middle of a job search and had been having a bit of bad luck recently. The only problem was, I needed someone to give me a fitinha as a gift. I asked if the ribbon would still work its magic if I asked someone to give it to me. I didn't know anyone going to Bahia soon. Would my attaching the wishes to the ribbon prevent them from occurring before the ribbon came apart, if the chance came? What would happen if I told someone my wishes? Her relatives noticed my apparent eagerness and Simone's cousin had a look in the glovebox to see if there were any fitinhas to give me. I was in luck! I carefully and strategically made my wishes. If they come true, I know who I will be writing my thank-you letter to! Hehehe.Fitas do Senhor do BomfimThat afternoon I got on the bus back to Sao Paulo. The trip back was 4 hours longer and 100% more frustrating than the trip down. I was stuck at the very back of the bus, next to a Paraguayan man who wouldn't stop talking to me, sweating to death, and was among the very few passengers on the bus who were not smuggling contraband whatever back up to Sao Paulo. I caught on to this after the third time the bus stopped in the middle of puta que pariu (Portuguese for 'woop-woop', as we say in Australia. It literally means 'the-whore-that-gave-birth') in Parana, and the same old man came around the bus collecting money from the same 20 or so people. He was collecting money to bribe police with. Needless to say, this happening, repeatedly, made the trip a bit frustrating. Especially when we crossed the border into Sao Paulo at 3AM and the police decided to wake me up, to do a random check on me, instead of, gee, I don't know, the 20 criminals around me. Yes. All in all (excluding my super-comfortable bus trip back, rs), I had a great time, with great people! Thanks Simone!Hosts in Iguassu Falls
I am ...how can I put this? ...continually shocked by my consistent bad luck here in Brazil. But I am too stubborn to give up and go home, however much I may feel like it.Don't judge me - I know that life isn't a bouquet of roses - and I am a reasonable, logical person. The past few months have just been really ...crap. I have even been feeling this in my body - Over the past month I have felt food-poisoning-like symptoms for at least 7 days. It occurred to me the other day that perhaps my nausea and awful stomach cramps might not in fact, be food poisoning, but just plain stress. I am esgotada.On Tuesday Guillaume and I got kicked out of our republica, our sharehouse. Why? Well, apart from the leaky ceilings, water literally inside of my walls, the fact that my room actually flooded once, yes, flooded, the very noisy work from the probably illegal construction on the house, the washing machine that made our clothes dirtier, the internet which constantly cut out, and the gossipy maids and construction workers reporting my every move to the landlady, the landlady was also a totally stupid, manipulative cow who thought that her boyfriend (one of the construction workers on our house - yet another example of her absolutely unprofessional and disgusting behavior) was interested in me, and decided to get rid of me, for her pure insecurity. So, when she came to me to report that 'everyone was complaining about me' (and believe me, I could write a whole essay on those people), I was not very impressed, and told her where to go. Why, after all, had she been coming to ask me every few days if her boyfriend was trying to flirt with me? It seemed very convenient for her to have a reason to get rid of me. After lying to me and trying to intimidate me about Brazilian laws (I did not fall for this crap), she also told me where to go. Com prazer! I told her, with pleasure.Needless to say, this verbal altercation did not leave us much time to get out of our place. Rafael, my good friend, who never ceases to amaze me with his problem-solving skills and engineering brain, cleaned up my mess with the maldita filha da puta vagabunda dona de merda landlady and helped us get our new place. Yes, you just witnessed my intense effort at swearing in Brazilian Portuguese, as you can imagine, I had a lot of practice using them in this past week. Now we are living in a much larger, more dormitory-style accomodation, in a better location, still near the university. It is a dorm with 34 other people, shared bathrooms and kitchens. A place which Guillaume once delicately described as Cap d'Agde, a reference to a nudist town in his native France. This, because in our few days here, we have encountered an astonishingly mostly male population walking around barechested. It's damn hot here, they can't be blamed, right? Guillaume however persists
in his dislike of our shirtless housemates. Amusingly, in our new place, there is this very-Brazilian microwave:Brigadeiro and cocada are in the easy-cook sections!We managed to move all of our belongings without any suitcases (we had them stored in Guillaume's aunt's place, 1.5 hours away, for lack of space in our old room), but by use of plastic bags, rubbish bins, cardboard boxes, backpacks, acai buckets, and hammocks-turned-bags. Another demonstration of the versatility of our Amazonian-bought hammocks. The next day, on the way to a voice recording for an English textbook (one well-paying but hard-to-find job for English natives here in Brazil), I took a hard fall down the marble stairs of my new place. Havaianas are comfortable and cute but they consistently seem to do me wrong while walking down stairs. Unfortunately this past Thursday there wasn't anyone at my side to catch me from falling and I got to top off my awesome week with a very sore back, neck, and lots of analgesics. I think this one will take a while.I am trying to not be a pessimist...
My friend Rafael is helping me practise my written Portuguese by giving me little essays each week which he corrects. This is our first one. As you can see, I was kind of pissed last week when I wrote it, ha. Here is my take on the Jeitinho Brasileiro. I know it could be a little bit more balanced, and I could have given a better example, but let's just see it as an exercise in 'opinion essays', as I was doing with my ESL students the other day, for example. Hehehe.O Jeitinho BrasileiroObs: Asvezes minha vista do Brasil pareca um pouco destorcida nesta redacao. Eugeralmente vejo o Brasil de uma forma positiva, mas fiquei desiludida aposacontecimentos recentes burocraticos. O conceito do jeitinho brasileiro eefetivamente uma maneira escondida de descrever o ato de manipular pessoas e situacoesem proveito proprio. Para entender o porque este apto eexclusivamente um apto brasileiro, precisa-se conhecer um dia tipico na vida deum brasileiro. Para realizar qualquer tarefa oficial aqui, e preciso se matartentando imprimir os documentos (o Xerox nao esta funcionando, o segundo quevoce tenta nao consegue abrir PDF, o terceiro esta sem papel, o quarto fazapenas Xerox e nao imprime, e o quinto, no caminho para qual voce se perdeudurante uma hora, esta sem grampeador); autentifica-los (voce tem que andar deonibus para chegar e os tres caixas eletronicas perto da sua casa nao estaofuncionando para voce sacar dinheiro para pagar a passagem); e levar paraqualquer agencia dita oficialpara esperar uma, duas horas numa (ou em varias filas nao esqueca que aquiexiste essa bobagem de triagem e uma obsessao nacional com a senha em todolugar) para um funcionario publico olhar, durante menos de um segundo, no seudocumento (se voce esta com sorte).Assim sendo, se der algum jeito de aceleraresse processo, a maioria das pessoas aproveitarao a oportunidade. Se voce temamigo que e funcionario publico ou se voce e boa em paquerar o funcionario nobanco, voce aproveita disso. Como se ve, ate realizar tarefas simples aqui exige uma enormequantidade de esforco, tempo, e dinheiro. E por isso que esse fenomeno podeparecer exclusivamente brasileiro. E uma consequencia do sistema brasileiro.Eu tenho juntado muitas experiencias comaquele jeitinho durante minha estadia aqui geralmente nao que eu mesma use,mas sim observo no comportamento de brasileiros a minha volta. Acredito que,como regra, estrangeiros nao sao tao habeis a aproveitar desse apto porcausa de uns obstaculos: 1) A nocao geral que o povo de uma sociedade desejam omelhor um para o outro 2) A expectativa que e razoavel confiar no sistemapublico para se ajudar a resolver seus problemas, 3) Uma falta de contatoslocais em varios lugares aos quais sepode recorrer quando se precisa. Assim, eu contarei uma experiencia que estabem viva na minha memoria porque trata-se da dona da minha republica, para quemeu paguei o aluguel essa noite:Em novembro do ano passado eu tive uma experienciatraumatica quando tirei meus dentes de siso, que envolveu muito sangue e umavisita na emergencia. Quando voltei para casa o Guillaume estava cuidando decada movimento meu, pois estava muito fraca e com muito dor. Ele dormia numcolchao ao lado