thegoodfellas/blogset-br huggingface dataset:
So here I am!!! How do I feel? I guess the words "really good" is a good way to start to explain how lucky, anxious and hiper happy I am :DSomething funny in the airport in Portugal...you have to pay to use the internet. Eight euros no kidding! And I can't even get free internet sitting in front of McDonald's - fail!!! Now off to immigration: to start off I did my homework. First thing I thought was - here I am this young, single and female Brazilian entering to Europe to backpack and visit friends. This is the truth. I am not going to live here, hook up with a guy and stay illegally in the country - nope, no such thing. And being so I have nothing to be afraid of but if I am here backpacking then I have to look the piece. - no makeup - no high heels - no jewelry- no tight clothes complimenting the best parts of my body = no tight pants increasing my Brazilian bottom hehehe- nothing sexy, revealing, low cut, flashy or bright.- no nails painted in bright red or showy pink. Actually all I went for was a light almost see-through nail polish. I did: - wear comfy and somewhat baggy clothes. Not bumish nor poor looking just casual and in neutral colors. - I went for the young and innocent look. Carefree and happy. If I came across as a femme fatale I am sure my fate would be boarding a plane back to Brazil. No thanks! - sneakers- white ones at that...the total American tourist look.Brazil immigration: stupid me didn't even know I would be going through immigration in Brazil and had only expected it once arriving in Portugal. In front of the young female Brazilian immigration officer I handed her my passport while she looked at it for a long while, looked back at me, typed up a thing or two on her computer, looked back at me again. Trying to look as nonchalant as possible I waited for the questions to begin. Finally:She: where are you going to? Me: Paris, ORLYShe: Are you going on leisure or is there another motive? Me: no just on leisureAnd then came the totally unexpected question as she looked straight into my eyes:She: do you have any family there? Any relatives there?I know this is a normal question but for some reason I wasn't ready for it. Or maybe what I wasn't ready for was the way she asked it, the way her eyes caved into me. Me: no. Still looking into her eyes. She after a pause: ok. You may go. Handed me back my passport.For some reason I knew I had answered the question correctly (and honestly as well) and that if my answering had been otherwise questioning would be the next step to take place. I could just see it in her eyes. Flight: Once everyone was seated I felt extra lucky to see at I had two whole seats all for myself -yes! So first some book
reading followed by a different movie called "Two days in New York" though it doesn't really have anything to do with New York but is more about the queer French people... Just my luck as I am going to Paris. Didn't think I would be able to but after making myself comfortable by lying on my two seats, propping my head with many pillows and covering myself up I soon dozed into a quick sleep. To my non luck my seat was right in front of the bathrooms and to top it off there were two mothers who most certainly never learnt that when a baby cries it needs to eat, sleep or be changed. They must have mistaken that for waking up tired flight passengers. Argh! Ok so here comes "Embarrassed Christy #1:" my nose started running and I needed tissue paper to blow it...and not when the bathroom line shortened. I needed it now! So I start scanning for the flight attendant when in the aisle straight across me I see a woman with a black sweater and red vest standing up. "Hello M'am! Excuse me. Could you get me some tissue paper please?"And that is when the embarrassment started to dawn on me. She was a passenger, just like me who decided to wear the same color clothes as the flight attendants just so I could make a fool of myself. Oh well, I was waiting for it - though it seriously didn't have to happen so soon. Immigration in Portugal: Once in the immigration line with passport and small bag with all the paperwork inside (I had loads of documents ranging from my company papers, drivers license, invitation letters, car documents, travel insurance...and the list goes on) my eye caught a beautiful young Portuguese woman with a large smile on her face. Yep an immigration officer with a smile - a large smile. I glanced around to the other officers and noticed their serious cold faces. That moment I knew the smiley woman was the one for me. Much to my luck the other immigration officers stayed a long time questioning the poor nervous souls in front of them while my smiley woman passed the three other people in front of me in less than a minute or two - and then motioned for me to come over.Me: Good afternoon.She: good afternoon. Passport please.Me: here you are.She: where are you going to? Me: Paris, ORLY.She: still today?Me: yes.She: when do you return to Brazil?Me: January 20th.She: what is the purpose of your trip? Me: I'm going backpacking.She: alone? Bigger smile even on her face.Me: yes, alone. I have friends in Europe, but yes, still alone.She: wow you are brave!!! Stamping my passport.Me: I guess - my mom is not too happy with the idea though. Big smile on my face.She: well have a good trip. There you go. Hands me back my passport. And that was it! I was in Europe and now only had to worry entering immigration once in England - and there was still a
month to go until then! YES!!! I waited for about an hour to catch my next plane from Lisbon to Paris, met an American woman that lives in Paris who was going back to the USA because of the Sandy Disaster and after some small chat I am in the plane and on my way to Paris. See you soon Paris!!!Entao aqui estou eu!!! como sente? acho que as palavras "muito bem" e uma boa forma de comecar a explicar quao sortuda, ansiosa e hiper-feliz estou :DAlgo engracado do aeroporto de Portugal...voce paga pra usar internet. 8 euros sem brincadeira. nao consigo internet nem sentando em frente ao McDonalds - que miseria! Agora para imigracao: Pra comecar fiz meu dever de casa. Primeira coisa que eu pensei foi - aqui estou eu, uma mulher Brasileira, jovem e solteira entrando na Europa para fazer um mochilao e visitar amigos queridos. Essa e a verdade. Nao irei morar aqui, me juntar com algum gringo e ficar ilegalmente no pais - nada nem perto. Sendo assim nao ha motivo de eu ficar nervosa mas se e isso mesmo que estou fazendo e essa a impressao que tenho que mostrar. - nada de maquiagem- nada de salto alto- nada de bijuteria ou joias - nada de roupa apertada mostrando o meu corpo = calca colada aumentando minha bunda Brasileira hahaha- nada sexy, com decote ou de chamar muita atencao- nada de unha pintada de rosa pink ou vermelho vivo. Na verdade pintei as unhas com uma renda clara. Como fui: - vesti um conjunto bege de calca moleton bem soltinha junto com um casaquinho. Tudo de boa qualidade e bem arrumado - um look bem casual.- Optei por o visual de uma garota jovem e inocente, feliz e curtindo a vida. Se eu aparecesse vestida toda female fatale creio que meu destino seria o aviao de volta ao Brasil em vez a Paris. Nao obrigada!- tennis brancos...parecia uma turista Americana - hah!Imigracao no Brasil: Incrivel que pareca nem imaginava que teria que passar pela imigracao no Brasil - achava que era so uma vez que chegasse em Portugal - assim fui pega de surpresa. Uma vez em frente da jovem oficial de imigracao entreguei o meu passaporte a ela enquanto ela demorou um seculo olhando pra ele, me encarando e olhando de volta pra ele novamente. Ate que emfim ela datilografou uma coisa ou outra no seu computador e me encarou novamente. Tentando ficar mais calma possivel esperei pelas perguntas comecarem. Finalmente:Ela: Pra onde voce vai?Eu: Paris, ORLY. Ela: Voce esta indo a passeio ou tem outra razao pela viagem?Eu: Nao, so a passeio. E entao veio a pergunta totalmente inesperada enquanto ela olhou direto nos meus olhos:Ela: Voce tem alguma familia morando la? Algum parente?Eu sei que essa e uma pergunta de praxe mas por alguma razao nao estava preparada por ela. Ou talvez o que nao estava preparada foi a forma que ela fez a pergunta, os olhos dela cavando dentro dos meus. Eu: Nao. Mantive o olhar dela. Ela depois de uma pausa:
Ok. Voce pode ir. Me devolveu meu passaporte. Por alguma razao sei que tinha respondido a pergunta corretamente (e honestamente tambem) e que se eu tivesse respondido que sim uma longa intrevista seria o proximo passo. Dava pra ver nos olhos dela. Voo: Uma vez que todos estavam sentados me senti super sortuda quando percebi que o assento do meu lado estava vazio entao tinha dois assentos so pra mim - yes! Comecei lendo um livro seguido por um filme chamado "Dois dias em Nova York!" mesmo que nao tem nada a ver com Nova York e sim com pessoas francesas estranhas...sorte minha ja que estou em direcao a Paris.Nao achei que seria possivel mas depois de me ajeitar deitando nas duas poltronas, botando varios travesseiros debaixo da minha cabeca e me cobrindo toda dormi igual um bebe. Pena que nao durou muito porque nao so era o meu assento bem em frente ao banheiro havia duas maes que nunca aprenderam que quando um bebe chora ele precisa dormir, comer ou ser limpo. Acho que na cabeca delas choro de bebe e so pra acordar os outros passageiros mesmo. Que odio!Ja no aviao paguei o meu primeiro mico: "Meu nariz comecou a escorrer e eu precisava de um lenco para assoar o nariz...e nao quando a fila do banheiro acabasse. Eu precisava era agora! Entao comecei a procurar a aeromoca quando avisto uma mulher alta vestida com uma blusa de manga comprida preta e colete vermelho no corredor logo em frente de mim. "Ola moca! Com licenca. Teria como eu ter alguns lencos para assoar o nariz porfavor?"E so nesse momento e que a vergonha bateu. Ela era uma passageira que por acaso estava vestida com a mesma cor de roupas que as aeromocas - so pra eu morrer de vergonha enquanto o aviao inteiro olhava pra mim! Bem, ja sabia que ia acontecer - mas fala serio, eu poderia pelo menos ter chegado na Europa antes. Immigracao em Portugal:Na fila de imigracao com meu passaporte e papelada na mao (tinha de tudo quanto e papel - desde carteira de motorista, carta convite, documentos do carro, seguro de viagem, papeis da empresa...e por ai vai) vi uma bela mulher Portuguesa com um grande sorriso no seu rosto. Sim, um oficial de imigracao com um sorriso - um grande sorriso. Eu dei uma olhada nos outros oficiais de imigracao e percebi seus rostos frios e serios. Naquele momento soube que a mulher sorridente era a certa! Novamente tive sorte porque enquanto os outros oficiais de imigracao ficaram um tempao interrogando os pobres coitados na frente deles a minha mulher sorridente passou tres pessoas em menos de dois minutos cada - e depois me chamou pra frente. Eu: Boa tarde.Ela: Boa tarde. Passaporte porfavor.Eu: Aqui esta.Ela: pra onde voce esta indo? Eu: Paris, ORLY.Ela: ainda hoje?Eu: sim.Ela: Quando voce volta pro Brazil?Eu: 20 de Janeiro.Ela: Qual e a razao da sua viagem? Eu: Estou fazendo um mochilao.Ela: sozinha? Sorriso maior ainda no rosto.Eu: sim, sozinha. Eu tenho amigos na Europa mas estou viajando sozinha.
Ela: uau, quanta coragem!!! Carimbando meu passaporte.Eu: Pois e - minha mae nao esta muito feliz com a ideia. Grande sorriso no meu rosto. Ela: bem tenha uma boa viagem. Aqui esta. Ela me devolve o passaporte. E foi isso ai! Estava dentro da Europa e so tinha que me preocupar com imigracao novamente uma vez na Inglaterra - e ainda havia um mes ate la! YES!!!No aeroporto esperei por volta de uma hora para pegar meu proximo voo de Lisboa para Paris, conheci uma mulher Americana que mora em Paris e que esta voltando pros EUA porcausa da Sandy e depois de conversar um pouco embarquei no aviao rumo a Paris.Ate daqui a pouco Paris!!!
There are days when you wake up and think: "How fortunate I am. I am waking up in Paris but I can't yet believe it!"I am sure not everyone feels this way but my whole life I grew up reading stories, looking at beautiful picture books and watching some of my favorite Hollywood movies - all which happened in one place: Paris! And here I am...the last place I expected to be.Many, many months ago when I started planning this trip I had totally crossed off Paris. It wasn't even an idea, not even an option. I knew no one in this huge city, had heard loads of stories of how rude and cross Parisians can be and after giving a quick look on the lodging prices - well any enthusiasm I might have had for Paris totally vanished.But as I say - the universe has its peculiar way - call it law of Murphy, Law of Attraction, Of Positive Thinking (or in my case, negative thinking!); whatever! All I know is that my mother gets a French Portuguese student, I get her a place to stay, pick her up in the airport and we become great friends. In one of our "blab days" I mention to her my crazy Euro trip and add that I am not going there. Her eyes open up in shock and surprise: "How are you not going to Paris?!!! That is my city and it is the MOST beautiful city in the world! You HAVE to go to Paris!"Somehow after many days spent together and friendship built, my friend Fanny somehow convinced me that Paris was a must on my travel list.Even then I still wasn't totally convinced but mentioned to my friend Richi (American but lives in Munich) that I was thinking about going to Paris and was buying my ticket for the 25th of November. To my huge surprise his answer back is "Can't you go on the 21st? I get five days off from work and if you buy your ticket earlier then I would join you in Paris!"That was all I needed to make my final decision. I found a good ticket to Paris on the 20th at night and before I knew it here I was waking up to beautiful Paris.At this time I still hadn't fallen in love with this city which I now hold so dear to my heart - but even in my first morning I could smell good times in the air.Tom, always the gentleman; warmed up some croissants, made some fresh hot coffee and showed me how to get to the train station. This morning Richi was arriving from Munich and from there we would meet at the subway station near Tom's place, from there we would go to another subway stop where I would meet the owner of the flat we would be renting for three nights.- Look at this. I just received a message from your friend, Richi.I looked at the message and read aloud: "Hello Christy. I just arrived. See you soon. Richi"In
a hurry to get out the door I put my scarf, gloves, hat, neck warmer and hat while at the same time Tom helped me strap on my huge pink backpack and as an extra stuffed a last croissant covered with Speculoos into my mouth.- Bye Tom! See you in a few days! Was all I managed to say with my mouth full.To my great luck Tom agreed to stay with both my huge and small red bags as after spending the four days in the flat I would be coming back to his place and spending a few more days with him at his place. Being so I was taking a small amount of baggage for these next few days.After less than a fifteen minute walk I found myself in front of Hoche subway station. I entered and scanned the place for Richi but nothing. I went to the information desk and asked the lady how many exits/entrances there were and she pointed out there were three: the one I was at, one 100 meters in front and another right across the street. And so I walked to the other two entrances. Nothing once again. I went back to the lady and told her maybe he had stayed in the subway platform so she let me inside to take a look. Not a trace of Richi. I went back to each subway entrance once again. Richi was nowhere to be seen.All this took about an hour or so and by then everyone in the streets - Negros and Middle Eastern people - were looking at the lost girl carrying her pink backpack on her shoulders with the most frustrated look on her face. Walking through those dirty streets with street sellers, Arabic being shouted out on the street, Muslim women walking with their eyes looking at the floor and muscular Negro men looking and smiling towards me with their perfectly white teeth made feel like as if I were in another world.I was about to walk back to Tom's place when I decided before to enter a small street to get away from the onlookers weird looks Turning in the street there is a couple walking in my direction speaking...PORTUGUESE!!! I instantly jump in front of them and ask: "Oi, Voces sao do Brasil?" ("Hello are you from Brazil?"). They smiled and nodded their heads and we soon started talking. I explained to them my dilemma when the husband picked out his cellphone and told me to give Tom a call as who knows, maybe something had happened to Richi and the only number I had given him was Tom's. Ten seconds on the phone with Tom and he tells me there is an incoming phone call and puts me on hold. A minute later he tells me that was Richi who had just called saying he had arrived in Hoche station. I thank the Brazilian couple over and over again and they just laugh saying they know what it's like to be in my situation: feeling totally lost! We said
our goodbyes and as I walked back towards Hoche subway station I couldn't help but think how lucky I once again had been; this couple told me they had lived for five years in Paris yet today was their last here as tomorrow they were getting on the plane back to Brazil. Woah!In front of Hoche station there was Richi standing with his sparse amount of baggage and looking the exact same as when I met him for the first time in January - almost a year ago! We hugged and smiled glad to see each other after a long time and he then explained to me why the whole mess-up and the reason for me not finding him at Hoche station when I arrived an hour ago: "The message I sent Tom saying I had arrived was the one I sent as soon as I had arrived in Charles de Gaulle Airport; yet you misunderstood my message thinking I had actually arrived here at the subway station and that is why you had to wait for so long until I got here."From there we tried to find our way around Paris-at-first-complicated subway station (though once you figure out how it works it's quick and easy peasy!) until we arrived at Gambetta station. Outside the station we met Agathe. She is the epitome of what I expected in any Parisian woman: cute, pretty, petite and very stylish without calling too much attention. She approached us asking "Hello. Are you Christy?" Once affirming I was so she led us to her flat in the sixth floor in a quaint apartment building. Inside she was very kind and helpful giving us all the information we needed to have a comfortable stay. Her friendly smile and short bangs made her look all the more girly to me. But despite her innocent look and pleasant way of being she all of a sudden took me by surprise when our conversation came to a her telling us a three month trip she did together with a friend in Mongolia which included trekking, hunting a wolf, sheep and some other strange creatures; spending a few days in a tent with a Mongolian family of more than 60 members and many other crazy and almost unbelievable adventures - though once going through the pictures of her trip there was the proof of how this sweet Parisian was braver than what I would have ever expected had I seen her walking in the street. After some conversation we said our goodbyes and she left.As soon as we heard her walk down the hallway we both opened our mouths wide open. Compared to the flat's in Paris this was HUGE! A big bathroom with a bathtub and full body mirror, a cozy kitchen with everything we would be needing to make our own home cooked meals, a veranda with a view to the street outside and a large main room which included a double bed, a sofa which would open up into another bed, large flat screen TV (which we never
even used once, hah!) and a large array of books, DVDs and tourist guide books from places all over the world - including Mongolia, of course! A very girly flat and one that totally matched with my daydreams of an ideal Parisian apartment. And all of this for not a cent more than 35 euros per night!!! It's so good to have friends!Not long after, Richi's two Brazilian friends, Fred and Vitor arrived at the apartment. They had met each other in Greece and since they both lived in Paris Richi had gotten in touch with them so they could show us around today.Vitor, an at first quiet and conservative Engineer student who speaks fluent French and Fred, a talkative and friendly person who works as a professor in the same university Vitor studied in. These two guys made us have an amazing time - nothing like having a local (or in this case an "almost local") who speaks the native language show you around the place.At first we walked to the "Marche Franprix" (local chain of grocery stores) where we did some shopping for the next day or two. Here you can find from fresh mushrooms to bags of selected green salad leaves, bright red cherry tomatoes, tomatoes with their stalks still on, juicy clementines and a huge assortment of wine and cheeses for unimaginable prices - cheap, cheap, cheap! Now meat on the other hand was another story...Fred told us that he worked as a chef in a fine restaurant in London for a year and so he would be our chef today as well. In less than half an hour he served us the best pasta meal I ate during my whole time in Paris. Adding many glasses of wine and animated talk we were ready to get out and see the city.The route for that afternoon and evening was to be the "Basilique du Sacre Coeur" followed after by "The Moulin Rouge". We got off Blanche Subway station and the boys all needed to go pee. I rolled my eyes but seconds later I was opening them wide in surprise as Vitor showed me the "public bathrooms in France": a medium-sized "room" in the middle of the large sidewalk is the bathroom. People stand in line and as soon as someone gets out from the bathroom the doors are closed and the whole bathroom is automatically washed. There is even enough room for someone on a wheelchair to use the bathroom. As soon as the bathroom is washed the doors open once again and the next person in line goes in for his or her turn. Vitor then told me how once his friend - who had no idea that the bathroom would wash itself clean - walked straight inside as soon as the person who was in walked out. Somehow the sensors didn't capture him entering and he was washed from top to bottom and left the bathroom soaking. Poor guy!After my amazement with the "high-tech bathrooms" we started walking towards the "Sacre Couer". As we walked