Petrópolis, also known as the Imperial City, is about an hour and a half bus ride from Rio de Janeiro and is not to be confused with propolis, the throat spray, as I have a tendency to do. I also have a tendency to overreact to the prospect of sitting on a bus for over an hour, but in spite of the steady drive into the mountains, it wasn’t nearly as terrible as I expected. Continue reading “A Weekend in Petrópolis”
I went to see Paterson primarily because I’m homesick and I get a special type of enjoyment out of seeing NJ’s hills, changing leaves, and, sometimes crumbling, brick architecture in it’s larger, more Northern cities. Guffaw all you want at the statement, but New Jersey is beautiful. Plus, my father’s family is from Paterson, as is Allen Ginsberg, and I always liked that connection.
German architecture, changing autumn leaves, hot chocolate, Tibetan temples, and snow are rarely the images that come to mind when most people think of Brazil. But Gramado isn’t like anywhere else I’ve seen in Brazil.
Continue reading “Gramado, Brasil”
At the grocery store, I reached behind one of the employees to grab something from the frozen foods section. “Excuse me,” he said, “but what kind of exercise do you do?”
As a woman, “excuse me but” can be a dangerous phrase that typically leads to some kind of small, frustrating microaggression that usually has to do with my appearance and the general audacity of being a woman out in public.