Florianopolis Travel Blog

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People here often give me akward glances as I walk down street, or if I´m sitting in a cafe having an espresso, smoking a cigarette, or writing in this journal.

Brazilians are different. It is not a sin to show affection or utter the words, I love you. Public affection is common and couples hold hands like lovers in movies.

It is a bit cold today, I can feel the breeze chilling my arms, forming tiny goosebumps. I think, ´I´m a red head now, am I having less fun?´

My father seems to have genuinely missed me, he keeps on bringing up the idea of permanent residency. At times, the thought seems like a good idea, the kind of thing one would feel like an idiot for turning down. Explore the world. Be a foreigner, CARPE DIEM and all that jazz. Why not, life is short. Everyone is busy trudging through this thing we call life. No one has time for themselves let alone anyone else.

What happened to my sense of adventure? I´m 22, the world should be my oyster, my memories my pearl. Instead all I have to show are a couple of grains of sand.

I think if I stay in NY, I´ll drown. It´s only a matter of time before I plummet to the bottom. Here, I can start fresh. Learn a new language and culture. Be an active participant in life, instead of its passive victim.


I feel strangely comfortable in Brazil even though I am often left at a literal loss for words. I´ve become an amateur photographer, who can´t help snapping trees, the sea, the people, the food, etc. and although I´m happy to be back in such a beautiful place, the sense of novelty is gone- I recognize streets and understand 90% of what people are talking about in Portuguese. I am even beginning to converse fairly well.

Two days ago, I went to a town called Porto Belo, which is inhabited by fishermen. Their boats were wooden and painted in bright colors. I was standing on this elevated area, not quite a mountain or hill when I spotted a blue butterfly, it was incredible something I had only seen in magazines or on the Discovery Channel.

What´s funny is that this time I feel homesick even though I am better accustomed to the place. I spotted Frank Sinatra on my father´s tape deck and sat in the living room smoking a joint, thinking about New York and the people I had left behind.

Yesterday, I got two more tattoos. The damn things are addictive. They´re on my wrists- two waves on the right and the words Carpe Diem ´Seize the Day´in cursive on the left. I like the designs I chose because they remind me of nature and to enjoy life because it´s fucking short- like that you´re gone in a flash.

Sometimes when I see something spectacular like a purple sunset framed by tree-lined mountains I think of him, I imagine him standing next to me in silent appreciation thinking ´Origado Senhor´ without actually saying it. I see him extending his hand toward me, gazing at the scene painted before us as the moon rises and illuminates the surface of the sea; stargazing feeling eternal in the midst of a split second existence.

I´m in the living room again, on the red leather couch, smoking yet another joint listening- silence at first thought, but then the rolling of the waves, the sounds of cars driving down the boulevard through open windows. I can hear the faint hum of the fridge in the next room, but the loudest sound is the clock´s ticking hands advancing like horses´ hooves against pavement. Then, the laughter of a child over the music of someone´s stereo rising to the 12th floor.



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photo by: Vagabondatheart