jaipuriano

Brasão no distrito de Damão (antiga Provincia do Norte)

2011-11-16T10:13:00.000-08:00

2010-05-21T07:25:00.000-07:00

Apesar de ser mais difícil ler do que escrever, como diz PVG, este blog entra em férias pelo menos até inícios de 2012, enquanto eu me afundo cada vez mais nas águas turvas da tese.

Taste of India

2010-02-08T00:21:00.000-08:00

"Gosawi is the mad man"
Ram confided to me
Up in the mountain
Stays a guruji

This is the taste of India
And these are some cutchilis
Ram stole a matchbox
and gave it to me.

Leaving Atish's flat on the 2nd January morning...

2010-01-03T09:45:00.000-08:00

...after a light breakfast, I made my way into Vasco. At the train station, I was sold a Sleeper class ticket on waiting list no. 47 bound for Pune over the Ghats and was told not to worry.

I hurried back to Pangim and collected my savings from the Velho house and my laundry from the New Market. I rushed back on a pilot to Ribandar to pick up my luggage a directed the same pilot back to the train station in Vasco.

On the way we passed the village of Merces where I saw a stray dog sleeping on the pedestal of a votive cross. I took that as a sign of good omen for my coming odyssey through out the Northern Konkan.

In the overcrowded train, I was quite surprised to find my name on the ticket collector's list...especially since i was given an upper berth. In Londa, many people alighted and I managed to get some sleep after a simple pulao rice.

I arrived in Pune where my agent and friend Saurabh had informed me about the rikshaw strike...still, it wasn't difficult to hire one a bit further from the station who, for double the usual price, transported me happily to Salisbury Park.

Saurabh offered me water and an excellent bed to rest. I was going to need it before our journey together.

Breakfast with Mr. L on the 24th December morning...

2009-12-25T02:43:00.000-08:00

...implied getting up at 04:20 in the morning to undertake the trip from Sai Baba Nagar to Road "A" behind Churchgate. Sanjeev came out with me and procured a taxi near the main drag. From there we raced down the Western Highway, passing close to places like Kandivali Candolim; Goregaon Goregão; Andheri Anderim; Vile Parle Irle-Parlem; Santacruz Santa Cruz; Bandra Bandorá; and so forth. Close to the S. Gandhi national park, the early morning midst felt cool and pleasant. later on, the stench raising from the Mahim creek was the right queue to break air without molesting my driver. When we entered "A" road, I woke up some night watchmen to pinpoint my benefactor's apartment building.

Mr. L. had obviously just got out of bed when I rang his door bell at 05:50. However, with a lungi tied round his waist and his hair slightly dishevelled, he was still the coolest secretary in the Maratha Government by far. And he ushered me into his living room outlooking towards the Arabian Sea.

I showed him my permission letters and some other paperwork. At the same time, he cooperated with his wife in serving me breakfast, including papaya, tangerine, onion-tomato uttapam, toasts and tea.

Time elapsed and my train was leaving shortly from VT. Mr. L. offered to drive me to the station on his car and came down with a special light to be fixed over the hood in order to make haste. However, another resident had parked in front of his car, obstructing it. Mr. L. then suggested we should grab a taxi. Walking a little beyond his building, we reached Churchgate, where a lot of cabbies stood their ground; however, none was keen to take us to VT, a very short distance away. Finally, at the fourth refusal, Mr. L. coolly mentioned to the driver something with the words "police", "Maratha government" etc. and we were on our way. As we stepped out of the cab at VT's gate, I had exactly three minutes to locate and board the Mandovi Express before its departure.

Mr. L. rushed in front of me carrying my white linen suit for Fernando's wedding and I followed close on his heels carrying my brown suitcase full of olive oil and gifts and my black mochila with the working material and paperwork. And so it was that we found the train in platform 17 and Mr. L. made sure I was set on my way to Goa, towards a different landscape and different food.

As I sat back on the berth and took a long breath in, I reflected upon those ten days in the great city of Mumbai. According to the best interpretations, the preliminary work for my Konkan Surveying Tour could be considered a success.

Manuel de Souza, a Goan from Saliago working in the Gulf, entertained me for the rest of my trip.

Recorrente

2009-09-29T11:10:00.000-07:00

No início, o mar está sempre calmo, é inofesivo e silencioso. Depois de umas braçadas, começam a nascer as ondas, devagar, ondas engraçadas...depois crescem. Quando atingem os 4 ou 5 metros, a costa já está a quilómetros de distância, as pessoas e os guarda-sóis na praia já não se distinguem. E então as ondas levam-nos para o mais fundo do mar, em turbilhões de espuma e areia...finalmente o aquecimento global vingou. E então, começamos a reastejar lá em baixo, debaixo das águas, em direcção à praia, porque a água das ondas desapareceu...agora são apenas bolhas de oxigénio que fazem um barulho ensurdecedor ao quebrarem na areia. Na praia, a polícia inspecciona a disposição das toalhas, brinquedos, etc. E vamos ser multados - ou presos - porque está tudo um caos.

Segunda de Reentreé

2009-09-09T14:13:00.000-07:00

Começou com uma manga para o pequeno-almoço seguida de uma deslocação aos correios de D. Pedro V. Sinceramente, não sei o que põem no café daquela malta, mas são todas de uma simpatia enternecedora. Seguiu-se uma viagem até Coimbra e encontro com algumas pessoas que já não via há muito. O prato social estava bastante aceitável nas azuis; seguiu-se o cafézinho lá em cima e uma tarde em frente ao computador. A caminho de Aveiro, o meu carro avariou na autoestrada e tive de esperar uma hora e meia pelo reboque. Entretanto, veio o tipo da Brisa que ainda ficou a conversar comigo durante um cigarro e uma olhadela ao motor. Jantar remeteu-se para perto da meia-noite. E assim começou mais uma temporada.

1999 - 2009

2009-08-30T08:51:00.000-07:00

Manhãs Caídas

Quando te vieram prender,
Eu sei sem ninguém me ter contado,
Toda a tua coragem veio ao de cima
Enquanto se ofereciam copos de vinho

Quando friamente amanheceu,
Eu sei sem ninguém me ter contado,
A morte não te conseguiu prender
Apesar de teres ido com ela.

(Agosto de 2009)

The famous tout of Jodhpur

2009-08-27T03:16:00.000-07:00

is about 10 years old and not higher than my wasteline. He comes straight at you, eyeing you like a kill in a weird and twisted safari. He then tries to lead you inside any of the numerous shops that line up the main drags of the old town. He's a freelancer - he has no allegiance to a particular shopowner and probably gets a general commission from the whole neighbourhood or from the older and shop-based touts. He speaks fluent english and is aware of the tourist's basic needs - shopping and water.
And if you see him in Jodhpur, you know just where you stand.

Nahargarh fort...

2009-08-22T11:07:00.000-07:00

...is one of the closest to Jaipur and a favourite "time-pass" place for the city's teenagers. The luckier ones take their sweethearts with them on the bike. Up amongst the fort's shrubs and trees, the young couples steal a smooch or two, away from the conservative stares of Jaipur's families.
The cops, once in a while, set up a road block at the foot of hill to stop the couples approaching by bike. Demanding that the girl remove her head scarf and shades to be identified - and thus be exposed together with her indecent behaviour - they threaten her with a forced ride home and a reprimand to ther parents. And they only back down after some baksheesh.

Cops and young couples become therefore involved in a romantic / immoral corruption scheme. The male loverboy would be wise not to haggle with cops before his sweetie.

BBB in da house

2009-08-13T01:16:00.000-07:00

Foto by Vivek Menezes, 2009

2009-07-03T06:38:00.000-07:00

eu demito -me

tu demites -te

ele demite -se

nós demitimo s -nos

vós demitei s -vos

eles demitem -se

(não é nada fácil...)

E agora, tudo a fazer chifres!

Tomates de Macaco(s)

2009-06-27T07:55:00.000-07:00

http://remainsofthedesi.wordpress.com/2009/06/26/monkey-impersonator-hired-to-scare-monkeys-in-lucknow-train-station/

Camadas do Vasco

2009-06-21T10:58:00.000-07:00

E a documentação do restauro (1957)

António faz 18

2009-06-14T12:26:00.000-07:00

Fernando (=superman) em grande!

2009-06-07T19:00:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dw-ZUTSpIvc&feature=related

2009-06-06T17:13:00.000-07:00

Maturna

Antes dela, tu
Já pisavas estas vagas
Que quase nos embalam

E tu, e tu,
Em vão procuram
Ainda os cais que nos chamam

Nos teus olhos a fundura
Nos teus cabelos o vento
Dos vazios que permanecem.

Junho, 2009

arrumação primária

2009-06-05T15:23:00.000-07:00

2009-06-01T10:39:00.000-07:00

2009-05-17T06:03:00.000-07:00

Os voos das moscas em suspensão no meio da sala lembraram-me as aulas de fisica-química, quando me tentavam explicar a natureza do movimento dos electrões. Falámos um pouco sobre a correspondência familiar e as plantas do quintal. Agora, é altura de arrumar de a casa.

Back to da house

2009-05-14T09:51:00.000-07:00

all in a day's weird weekends

2009-05-03T19:31:00.001-07:00

2009-05-01T13:05:00.001-07:00

where it's at

2009-04-22T17:07:00.001-07:00

London and the US. 12

2009-04-17T03:10:00.000-07:00

Authenticity (Athens, Tennessee)

Many of us grew up watching and "hearing" the US through screens and loudspeakers. Some of us were overexposed to these images and sounds and thus they became familiar to us as a (half-) culture we could almost call our own. Consequently, when europeans travell to the US, they might be affected by an eerie feeling - on one hand, they sense their surrounings to be familiar; on the other, they perceive them to be dream-like, unreal, artificial.

A cinematic veil shrouds everyday experiences, rendering them less real, less authentic...ephemeral in nature.

This feeling may trigger a reaction on part of the traveller: the longing and search for the authentic experience in the US. A struggle against the pervading sensations of artificial, superficial, ephemeral, etc; a search for the unveiled experience, a longing for strong emotional interactions, to override the dream-like encounters.

I stumbled over a bit of the authentic right there, near Athens, Tennessee. Gathered around the family house porch, the southern folk talked about baseball, the evils of socialism and the lastest travell gossip from Europe. The gently sloping landscapes where cattle grazed was lush with green; the muddy creek had filled up some and was lined by crooked trees with bear branches scratching the blue skies. A tornado had come and gone and there we were, all gathered for easter sunday.

All was bound by the southern accent and the fragile patriarchal figure of Popa, in overalls and checkered shirt and a straw hat.

After lunch, the family gathered on the porch. One of the older brothers spat to the side, in that unmistakable way. And there it was, in that very gesture, the authentic spirit of America.

The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down (The Band)

2009-04-11T21:51:00.001-07:00

Dixie Stampede Finale

2009-04-11T21:06:00.001-07:00

London and the US. 11

2009-04-09T21:14:00.000-07:00

Memories of Playmobil

As we sat at our places in the arena of the Dixie Stampede, I had an eerie feeling when our waiter presented himself in a basic confederate uniform; he definitely reminded me of something familiar...but not from a movie scene - I could not put my finger on it, though. Later, I recalled the moment and the flashback became clear: the waiter reminded me of the playmobil figures from my childhood.

The waiter, the cowboys, the so-called audience volunteer partaking in the magic trick, the host, Dolly Parton's plastic image on the tv screens, the other waiters, they were all part of a thematic circus that complimented Dollywood, just across Pigeon Forge's river.

It's not a light-hearted affair to see how such a traumatic experience as the american civil war can and has been mellowed down into light entertainment shows like this one. Sure enough, the show ended with a patriotic display and message of unity, in spite of its cashing in on the north-south divide that clings on to american core values.

Dixie.
a nickname for the Southern United States [probably derived from] privately issued currency from banks in Louisiana [...] labeled "Dix", French for "ten", on the reverse side. [...] The notes were known as "Dixies" by English-speaking southerners, and the area around New Orleans and the Cajun-speaking parts of Louisiana came to be known as "Dixieland" [...]

Stampede.
an act of mass impulse among herd animals or a crowd of people in which the herd (or crowd) collectively begins running with no clear direction or purpose [...]

Dolly Parton.
(born January 19, 1946) an [...] American [..] known for her prolific work in country music [...]

Dollywood:
a theme park owned by country music singer Dolly Parton [...] It is located in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. In addition to standard amusement park thrill rides, Dollywood features traditional crafts and music of the Smoky Mountains area. Dollywood also owns the adjacent Dollywood's Splash Country, and the chain of Dixie Stampede dinner theaters [...] as well as other national and local musical acts [...]

London and the US. 10

2009-04-09T20:33:00.000-07:00

Networking # 2

We were walking along the road prong trail, close to the Sugarlands entry to the Smokies, just like - or almost - many other americans. The trail was a 2m paved strip that meandered up to a small waterfall; as people crossed each other in opposite directions, casual greeting were sometimes exchanged. I remembered the "Berg Heil" story from another mountain range...and how mountains have the curious effect of making man feel smaller and closer to his creator.

Up ahead, as two parties were crossing each other along the path, I heard one young american ask out loud "Do you believe in Jesus Christ?"; the other one answered "Yes, I'm a born again Christian". I noticed how the question had been triggered by a conspicuous tshirt. "Me too. Where are you from?"; "Minnesota".

Back in Cleveland, I gave up trying to keep track or distinguish between the various churches that line up the roads. My uncle told me that there were maybe two hundred churches in Bradley county alone...an average of 185 inhabitants per church. Just maybe...this is stout Republican ground, sure enough.

mais do mesmo

2009-04-08T07:28:00.000-07:00

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/Goa/Mystery-over-Georgian-queens-relics-at-Old-Goa-continues-/articleshow/4371818.cms

(deve ser a vigésima terceira notícia com este título em periódicos indianos...)

Shore leave

2009-04-07T20:54:00.001-07:00

London and the US. 9

2009-04-06T13:11:00.000-07:00

Networking

- "Have we met?"

That was and is the most practical way to initiate networking on a given event of your field. Especially if your self-confidence is high and your skills valuable. And you assume it natural that you should meet everyone else attending the same event as you. I guess I would have heard that line quite a few times if I had attended all the gatherings of this particular event and stayed in one of its HQ hotels (Hilton, Sheraton or Westin). And maybe people were also put off by the unfamiliar name - both my own and that of my affiliation. Accordingly, I only heard this sentence once; and it was in the bar queue, trying to get a beer on the opening reception at the convention centre.

He turned out to be one of the curators at the Library of Congress...and eventually guaranteed me an adequate help and facilities if my research would ever take that side of the world's library trail.

I still wonder what networking is all about.

London and the US. 8

2009-04-03T19:02:00.000-07:00

Arriving on first impressions

There was some fuss leaving the town of London due to my previous travels to Germany, India, etc. and because of my mixed background. However, arriving in Newark - and after waiting for over an hour in the queue - the customs officer that cleared me was indeed polite and caused a remarkable first impression. Maybe he was of portuguese origin...he literally welcomed me to the US after two or three simple questions about my business.

Next was a crowded flight to LA (the belly of the woman sitting next to me actually spilled over the armrest into my seat); and a shuttle to Pasadena. My room at the V. Inn felt as ample as the avenues that line this city and that extend it to the edge of the mountains on the north.

When you sense your room to be adequate to your travelling needs, it always feels good to spread your stuff around and make use of the available appliances to create an ephemeral stage of transitorial permanence.

Hotel rooms should come with a documentation of their most notable previous usages and guests.

London and the US. 7

2009-03-27T07:17:00.000-07:00

Don Teodoro

doesn't feature in any Lonely Planet guide for London. Why should it? It caters to a very exclusive community of portuguese expats that hang around that side of town. The atmosphere is shabby and ran down even when compared to a small village café in the forsaken countryside of Portugal. The only thing that shines is the TV, for that is the main raison d'être of Don Teodoro: football matches.

As Dona Maria Olívia brought us the chouriços and superbocks, I couldn't help but overhear the owner of the place - sitting at a table close to ours - talk to a veteran soldier of the colonial wars. The veteran, as we were informed, is trying to buy Don Teodoro from Sr. Pereira. The words "evitar pagar o tax" kept popping up during the conversation. We were also told that if the deal comes through, they might diversify the kitchen's menu and start serving some chicken african style, etc. Dona Olívia doesn't know if she will remain in charge of the kitchen then.

The reward of coming to Don Teodoro comes towards the end of dinner, when you ask Dona Olívia for a cafézinho.

London and the US. 6

2009-03-24T10:50:00.000-07:00

Politeness and bye

I couldn't help but notice how my sister, who has lived in this town for a few years, plans her social affairs a good week a head. She informed it was a common attitude here; still, I thought that most of the Portuguese or Goans stranded in London would retain the custom of going out or inviting a close friend to go out on an impulse - say, on a friday night at tennish.

Well, both Portuguese and Goans adapt quite fast to this new mentality. And some might even find it impolite if you don't follow this etiquette.

Anyway, when the objective is to follow the nocturnal diversion of the town you're in, you might as well adapt to your surroundings.

2009-03-18T12:19:00.000-07:00

London and the US. 5

2009-03-18T12:04:00.000-07:00

Hospitality

You can't measure hospitality - it's either present or absent. It consists in the difference between a host that shows interest in you and wants to share something and the host who avoids you and treats you as a nuisance, making you feel unwelcome.
After a fortnight in London town, I finally got a taste of English hospitality.

Over dinner, in a typical house near Sloane Square, our hosts shared with us savoury moments and conversations. The topics included Anglo-portuguese relations in India; the various ecological concerns of an English country-house; and the recent memories of humanitarian work at a hospitable in Moçambique.

I will not elongate on the food our hosts cooked for us - but it was delicious.

Here's to Hans Sloane. Cheers!

London and the US. 4

2009-03-14T07:18:00.000-07:00

Hammersmith and City.
T
She came in the carriage and asked a young asian boy to give up his seat to her. He shifted a couple of seats down. Sitting down with a big bag and her strange clothes, she turned towards him and started an apparently inane conversation; only that she did so shouting with a very angry voice.

"Today I cleaned up my room, I did! All spec and clean for my Amie to cook! she comes around sundays you know! Yeah, all nice and tidy! No one can complain now! Because those people! You know who they are, oh they're vicious mind you! Yeah but they can't say a word now! All spec and clean and mind you! I even cleaned behind the stove and those high shelfs! Amie comes around on sundays, you know!

She shouted so loud everyone was gazing at her. The poor boy was naturally in pain. Eventually, she started talking to other people.

(There's alway a crazy person on the bus)

London and the US. 3

2009-03-10T11:53:00.001-07:00

Rsponse from the British Library

Dear Mr Mendiratta

Thank you for your email detailing your experiences in the Asian & African Reading Room last week. I am sorry the problems you encountered hampered your research and that you found some of the staff to be unprofessional. I forwarded your message to the Reading Room Manager who will be raising the issues you have listed at her next staff meeting.

I apologise for the problems you experienced with the reader call light system. In the next couple of days, the Reading Room manager will be carrying out checks on all the desk lights and lamps and any lights found not to be working will be replaced.

The member of staff was wrong to inform you that you could not order any more material. Issue desk staff have been briefed to either order more items by proxy (on behalf of the reader), or to suggest that the reader requests a temporary extension to their reader limit (this can easily be arranged and in a short space of time). I regret that this did not happen in your case.

I am sorry that you were disturbed by the staff talking. We are aware sound does travel in the reading rooms and have reminded staff to speak quietly. A certain amount of noise is inevitable at busy issue desks, staff do have to communicate with each other and of course answer readers' queries, but we will remind staff again of the need to keep noise to a minimum.

I am very concerned by the observation you made regarding a fallen book and the staff member's response. A book can slip from a trolley if its not stacked correctly, but in a situation like that we would expect any member of staff to pick the book up immediately and to check for any damage. The Reading Room Manager has already raised this issue with the staff who were working on the Issue Desk during your visit and reminded them of the correct procedure.

I would like to apologise again for the unsatisfactory experience you had. The British Library prides itself on delivering good customer service and it is very disappointing to hear that we have fallen short of our own high standards. I do hope that your next visit will be more successful.

Yours sincerely

London and the US. 2

2009-03-08T12:50:00.000-07:00

Letter to the British Library [abridged]

from: Sidh Losa Mendiratta, architect and PhD student
to: Service Improvement, The British Library
sub.: Asia, Pacific and Africa room improvement

Dear Sirs,

I have been using the Asia, Pacific and Africa room for the last three days [...] and have found, to my disappointment, that various issues seriously hamper my academic research there - and probably that of other researchers. The British Library is proud of being an Institute for researchers, as every new member is inormed by the staff on arrival. And I believe that, in general, members comply with the Library rules and acknowledge the monumental importance of the Institution. If the users stick to the rules, it is only fair that they should expect the staff working in the library to stick to their own rules and commitments of service towards the users. In these last three days, I have found that part of the staff at the Asia, Pacific and Africa room has not carried out at leat one of these commitments and has in other forms shown un-professional attitudes. This is what happened:

1. I was informed, on my first day, that the orders placed on the computers in the room would be available within a maximum period of 70 minutes and that, when the material would be available to be procured from the main desk, a red signal light would appear in my seating place. In these three days, this light didn't switch on once. When the 70 minutes had expired, I went to the main desk and enquired and only then my requested material was delivered to me. [...] And I couldn't help but to have the strong feeling my requested material had been languishing on the main desk for quite sometime. If the signal light system is not working, users should be clearly informed.

2. In one situation, I requested ten items when I arrived in the morning. Enquiring after the 70 minutes about my order, I was told that six out of those ten items were not available because they were awaiting repair. I asked if I could place another additional order to substitute the six items that were not available. The staff rejected this request what I found to be unfair.

3. The next day, a very similar situation happened. This time, my request was only granted after the intercession of a staff member not working in the main desk.

Other un-professional attitudes:
[...]

B. One staff member dropped a heavy book as she was carrying it in a cart, behind the main desk. She failed to pick it up and returned to her working place. When a user (who, like me, had seen this) informed her of the book lying on the floor, thinking she had failed to notice it (so much was the noise at that moment in the front desk), the staff member said "It's ok, I'll pick it up later". The book fell next to a doorway.

I would like to express my thanks to other staff members that have been quite helpful. I would also like to make a more formal suggestion if the Library feels that it would be helpful for service improvement.

Thank you for your attention,

Sidh Losa Mendiratta
user 823680

Efectivamente...

2009-03-06T11:20:00.001-08:00

London and the US. 1

2009-03-04T15:36:00.000-08:00

Faux pas in Wiesbaden

En route to the city of London, I chanced upon a small and cozy party in the town of Wiesbaden. Here I met my old friend I. and naturally our conversation led us back to India and into my recent research about Indo-european stories. After a while, a woman sat close to us, casually eavesdropping on our lively debate as she talked to other germans. Eventually, I. asked me if I was looking forward to my stay in London. To which I replied "Well, I don't like english people in general, you know". I was going to elaborate and somehow justify the rather obnoxious statement but couldn't because the woman next to us burst out in a loud laughter that caught the attention of the whole affair of the party.
"Oh my God!" she said in tones of cockney. Athough she had been talking all the time in perfect german, she was a subject of her Majesty and just couldn't believe her ears.
What could I do? I stumbled upon an apology and tried to wriggle my way out of the hole surrounding me. To no avail - the english woman made it a point to let everyone know what had been the cause of her startle and indignation and I had to endure the ensuing dissaproval of the gathering untill retreating quietly back into my quarters.

2009-02-22T07:09:00.000-08:00

Spirit

Now the cities are just scars
We gather around fires and streams
The night is thick and anyway
Filled with beasts and evils spirits
So shut your eyes tight.

Should they wake up
In the middle of your sleep
May the Good Spirit protect you
In your wanderings

But if you find the Secret gate
Back to the Golden Days
Don't forget to come back
And tell us the way.

(February 2009)

Sai Baba variations

2009-02-11T08:51:00.001-08:00

T
I just need
Jesus, Sai Baba and the profit
Mobiles, Parsis and pan
Everything is so familiar
Riding in this state bus
Through the Deccan.

(May 2007)

2009-02-05T06:24:00.001-08:00

Mar ensanguentado

2009-02-03T16:44:00.000-08:00

T
"Ao Regedor [de Tabona, zona de Tidore, Indonésia] mandou [D. Jorge de Menezes] atar as mãos, e deitallo a dous cães de filhar mui feros, junto com a praia que estava cuberta de gente, que sahio a ver tão nova justiça. Foi piedoso espetáculo ver arremeter os cães a elle, e começar a esfarrapar-lhe as carnes às dentadas, mordendo-o cruelmente, e os gritos que elle dava com as dores. O regedor, que era animoso, se foi chegando para o mar, cuidando que nelle o largariam os cães; mas encarniçados nelle o seguiram, e vendo-se elle em tamanho tormento, andando já nadando com os pés, que com as mãos não podia por as ter atadas, fez volta aos cães que o seguiam, e com muito esforço, e acordo, se começou a defender com os dentes, mordendo os cães, assi como elles o mordiam, de que todos estavam attonitos, e andando com as carnes espedaçadas, afferrou hum dos cães per huma orelha, e afferrado se metteo com elle debaixo d'agua, onde se affogou, deixando a todos com grande espanto, e maior mágoa, chorando de verem morrer tão cruelmente hum homem tão esforçado.

[...]

Dalli por diante teve Cachil Daroez mortal ódio a D. Jorge, e aos Portugueses, e desejava de os matar a todos, e livrar a terra de seu jugo."

Décadas da Ásia, IV

Miranda July: Are You The Favorite Person of Anybody?

2009-02-01T10:14:00.001-08:00

via S. F.

Service Conduct

2009-01-28T14:59:00.000-08:00

"Do not engage in inane conversations with strangers"

Era o que dizia a bíblia...

Stick strictly to business (the pants business...)

At least for the duration of the war

Hurra Torpedo - Total Eclipse of the Heart

2009-01-24T14:23:00.001-08:00

...uma sugestão do saudoso T. Quadros

"Macaulay" de PVG e comment

2009-01-24T07:03:00.000-08:00

Macaulay
21.01.2009
Paulo Varela Gomes
Os ingleses nem sempre foram os dominadores arrogantes e bêbados que, enquanto tal, passaram à história e ao folclore do Ocidente e do resto do mundo. Houve tempo em que eram como todos nós: deixavam-se enganar, faziam disparates e chegavam a beber vinho em vez de cerveja. Mas isso foi antes do início do século XIX. De facto, concordam quase todos os historiadores que, por esta altura, os ingleses, pelo simples facto de que dominavam o mundo, convenceram-se de que eram uma raça de senhores e tornaram-se, ipso facto, odiosos e eficientes. Foi então que começaram a desprezar os portugueses por sistema. Já os (nos?) desprezavam aleatoriamente, mas, a partir dos primeiros anos de Oitocentos, passaram a considerar os portugueses sempre piores que pretos: mestiços, ou seja, preguiçosos, incompetentes e, para cúmulo, católicos. É exemplar a prosa de Richard Burton, o explorador e intelectual que escreveu sobre Goa em 1859. São algumas das mais odientas linhas alguma vez escritas contra o Portugal decadente, tropical, pobre, de pele escura e uniforme roto que alguma vez foram postas no papel. E não foi o único, longe disso. O governo que, com o Ultimato de 1890, deu praticamente dez minutos à administração portuguesa para deixar de armar em grande potência em África habituara-se há muito a considerar os portugueses uma raça inferior.É por isso que custa muito ver o triunfo dos maneirismos ingleses nas partes da Índia que já foram portuguesas ou onde a cultura portuguesa em tempos deu cartas: não é só o facto de toda a gente falar inglês; são as festas, sessões solenes e casamentos organizados à inglesa, com gestos, falas, rituais aprendidos em escolas de orientação inglesa, o triunfo absoluto do imperialismo britânico na vida social de milhões de indianos - incluindo os da antiga Índia portuguesa. Os media contemporâneos (dominados por uma cultura americana com masala) vão provavelmente dar cabo disto. Mas até lá todos os dias aturamos o fantasma triunfante de Thomas Babington Macaulay (1800-1859), o político inglês que começou a construir a Índia britânica. De cada vez que, num casamento em Goa, o compère grita em êxtase: "Let's have a big hand for...", ou "Please raise your hands for..." ou outra frase feita inglesa, eu, vivendo em Goa, um sítio que eles consideraram o exemplo do falhanço de Portugal como nação, eu, entredentes, amaldiçoo Macaulay. Mil vezes.E depois lembro-me de que quem promoveu a educação em inglês nas escolas de Goa no século XIX foram as autoridades portuguesas - que, liberais ou republicanas que eram, partilhavam com os ingleses a ideia de que o velho Portugal era tão decadente que nem a língua se lhe aproveitava, ideia através da qual se irmanavam com a elite goesa, todos, goeses e portugueses, olhando com inveja a obra a que Macaulay deu origem na Índia britânica, esquecidos dos insultos ou, pior, assimilando-os, curvando a cerviz, dando aos dominadores o pleno domínio. Let's all put our hands together for Macaulay!

Richard Burton disse no livro citado por PVG (publicado em 1851) que não haveria em toda a Ásia raça mais feia e degenerada do que a resultante da mistura entre indianos e portugueses. E, no mesmo livro, é esse o leitmotif para explicar tudo o que estava mal e decadente na Goa de cerca de 1850 (e concordo que deveria ser um sítio profundamente decadente - pelo menos aos olhos de um oficial britânico). Burton teve a bondade de nos legar na sua publicação duas vistas de Velha Goa e uma descrição informativa de alguns edifícios da cidade abandonada e de Pangim. À primeira obra impressa de Burton ("Goa and the Blue Mountains") seguiu-se uma produção monumental, que culminaria praticamente 30 anos depois com a tradução dos Lusíadas e apontamentos biográficos sobre Luís de Camões - de quem Burton se havia tornado confesso admirador. Pelo meio, ficou por imprimir a primeira tradução do Kama Sutra e vários outros textos queimados pela sua mulher após a morte de Burton.

A carreira aventureira de Burton foi muito diferente da de Thomas Macaulay, advogado e que esteve poucos anos na Índia. Mas havia algo muito forte, algo de visceral, que unia os espíritos destes dois homens. Ambos acreditavam que pertenciam a uma raça superior com uma missão civilizacional; e ambos acreditavam que a mistura racial - pelo menos entre colonizadores e colonizados - era algo de nefasto, sujo, e contra-producente para a mesma missão.

Ambos acreditavam na segregação racial mas cada um à sua maneira. Podemos dizer que Macaulay acreditava na segregação de forma "clássica" enquanto que Burton - que era, sobretudo, um explorador e investigador - acreditava de forma mais "espiritual"...
Burton disfarçava-se frequentemente de Muçulmano e não se coibia de conviver de perto com todos os aspectos dos variados natives, desde o Afeganistão ao Uganda ao Brasil. Gabava-se de ser tratado em pé de igualdade pelos sacerdotes Bramânes ou pelos mestres Sufi. Mas sempre com o nobre objectivo (a missão) de observar, estudar, anotar e julgar (de forma moral) aquilo e aqueles que lhe interessavam. Assim, não espanta que os colegas de Burton na Índia lhe chamassem de "white nigger" e lhe acusassem de "going native"...uma acusação que não tirava um minuto de sono a Burton; mas que, se porventura tivesse sido proferida contra Macaulay, poderia-lhe lhe ter causado algum (dis)stress.

Mas a verdade, por muito que custe a aceitar, é que eles tinham razão - pelo menos em relação à Índia. A mistura racial tinha efeitos contraproducentes para a dominação dos Europeus na Índia, pelo menos à escala que os britânicos ambicionavam na altura - e que obtiveram após 1858.
De forma muito simples, se os ingleses se misturassem com os Indianos, perderiam a sua "casta" - pior, tornar-se-iam "halfcastes"...pelo menos aos olhos das castas superiores, especialmente dos Bramânes.
Se havia algo que "unia" a Índia - tal como os Britânicos a viam em oitocentos - era o sistema de castas. Essa condição ancestral da sociedade assentava precisamente em noções de segregação, contaminação, etc. Naturalmente que os europeus não poderiam integrar o sistema, mas se não se misturassem, formavam um sistema paralelo - uma hierarquia competidora. Para além do mais, a insulação dos britânicos e do seu aparelho de administração conferia-lhes superioridade moral para julgar imparcialmente os Indianos de todas as castas; e o carácter laico do mesmo aparelho conferia-lhe autoridade para poder tratar todas as religiões da Índia por igual.

Com essa mentalidade, os britânicos implementaram um rígido sistema de segregação racial na Índia após 1858. Que vingou de forma assustadora. Quando Mountbatten "lavou as mãos" apressadamente em Agosto de 1947, acelerando o processo de independência da Índia, fê-lo porque todo o sistema de segregação - religiosa, de castas e racial - estava prestes a desabar. Os ingleses saíram "ilesos" da sua missão colonizadora da Índia. E os filho de Macaulauy vingaram até hoje.

A ideia de segregação racial foi o trunfo da colonização britânica na Índia. E tornou-se norma comum para todo o Império; mas a noção seria certamente mais antiga. De qualquer modo, os povos Ibéricos com os seus impérios decadentes e corruptos, nomeadamente os portugueses (que misturavam, de facto, o seu sangue com o dos colonizados) eram o exemplo a evitar...

Blade Runner Deleted Scene

2008-12-26T18:45:00.001-08:00

"Blade Runner" came out two years after "Dune" but the stories are chronologically and thematically light years apart. However, both rely on visionary images of the future, a common theme to science fictions movies.

The thing is that "Blade Runner" benefits from an unforseen (I think) advantage: the tense working relationship beteween R. Scott and H. Ford had an impact not only on Ford's acting - looking upset, annoyed or just stressed - and with voice-over but also, and consequently, on the whole atmosphere of the film. This remarkable twist gives the definite film-noir touch to Blade Runner, providing it with a thick layer of disillusionment: originally, Ford's disillusionment with Scott; but, in the end, the feeling of disillusionment of the whole film concerning the bleak and bitter reality of LA in 2019

Peace 08 / 09

2008-12-24T04:40:00.000-08:00

2008-12-22T13:06:00.000-08:00

e no antípodas do "streamlined", um bicho blindado da rússia imperial....

2008-12-21T09:31:00.001-08:00

uma das razões para não trabalhar ao domingo

http://www.cyriak.co.uk/

one of these days

2008-12-20T14:44:00.000-08:00

gostava de receber algo streamlined...podia até ser uma torradeira, ou um isqueiro, ou...

http://www.jamd.com/gallery/22835

Formigas brancas

2008-12-19T11:16:00.000-08:00

"Unfortunately i have some bad news [...] your bags have been attacked by white ants & all your stuff inside like clothes etc as well as the bags themselves have been destroyed. The only items that survived are toiletry & similar item that were inside plastic containers. I have kept whatever I could salvage [...]"

Recebi esta notícia de um amigo de longa data em Pangim. Eram essencialmente livros e roupa que tinha acumulado - e deixado em terra - durante várias estadias em Goa...

2008-12-16T13:56:00.000-08:00

Janela Indo-portuguesa, Diu

Penitentes e Velha Goa

2008-12-07T05:19:00.000-08:00

"'Now everything is enjoy, enjoy, enjoy,' the elderly priest told UCA News.
Penitential pilgrimages to Old Goa preceding the feast were popular in the past, he recalled, but have shown “a dramatic decline” in recent times [...] priests used to stress the fear of Judgment Day and the focus was on penance. But now priests preach about changing one's mind and way of life, he added."

http://www.ucanews.com/2008/12/05/penitential-pilgrimages-to-old-goa-on-the-wane/

A Descodificação de Resende possível para já

2008-11-30T17:02:00.000-08:00

"D. Miguel de Noronha delegou a tarefa em António Bocarro, cronista do Estado da Índia; este aceitou a incumbência, mas cingindo-se apenas à componente textual. Bocarro sugeriu que Resende se responsabilizasse pela componente iconográfica, visto que este teria já em sua posse diversas representações de cidades no Oriente, feitas para sua própria “curiosidade”. Resende, talvez pressionado pelo vice-rei, aceitou ceder os seus desenhos."

(excerto de texto elaborado com Joaquim Santos)

Sugestão

2008-11-30T09:02:00.000-08:00

T
já tentaste praticar o bem
fazendo mal?

já tentaste praticar o mal
fazendo bem?

já tentaste praticar o bem
fazendo bem?

já tentaste praticar o mal
fazendo mal?

já tentaste praticar o bem
não fazendo nada?

já tentaste praticar o mal
fazendo tudo?

já tentaste praticar tudo
não fazendo nada?

e o contrário, já tentaste?
já?

seja qual for a tua resposta,
não sei que te diga.

Alberto Pimenta, Ascensão de dez gostos à boca, 1977

5 memórias

2008-11-22T17:00:00.000-08:00

Lembro-me que eram ritmos bem diferentes - o meu, de criança, e o dos meus avós, de refeições e chás e sestas e...de fazer tudo mais devagar.

Na Pasteleira, depois de voltar da escola, o tempo arrastava-se pelas cortinas (uma roxa, outra azul, outra amarela) media-se pelo imperceptível deslizar dos raios solares pelo soalho, ecoava nos sons vindo do rio que trepavam pela janela do sótão...onde me escondia entre livros enigmáticos.

Nessas alturas, aprendi a dar valor ao tempo que passava comigo próprio. Estava em casa dos meu avós mas não convivia muito com eles, para além das refeições - apressadas da minha parte - e do chá das 5.

De passagem, recordo-me de cinco memórias do meu avô.

Primeira: A seguir ao almoço, a espalhar as migalhas recolhidas da mesa e das latas das bolachas sobre a guarda de madeira da varanda.

Segunda: Ao entardecer, se eu estivesse sentado a ler numa das poltronas da sala, a passar por mim e ligar o candeeiro mais próximo (dizendo algo do género "...ler às escuras estraga a visão...")

Terceira: De manhã, o som da máquina de barbear a aparar, pacientemente, pêlos brancos numa pele flácida.

Quarta: O meu avô a conduzir o Sunbeam de luvas, quando eu estava cheio de calor e a suar.

Quinta: Quando era ainda mais novo, o chá das cinco era por vezes substituído por um lanche a sério no Orfeuzinho. Entre os velhotes amigos do meu avô, tenho impressão que me lembro de um "Soares", talvez "engenheiro Soares". Invariavelmente, o meu avô consumia um galão...por vezes uma torrada.

Mysterious scene

2008-11-16T14:11:00.001-08:00

Can anyone tell me if this scene is present in the 2007 "Final cut"?

Much obliged.

2008-11-16T11:31:00.001-08:00

deleted scenes

definição chega a Asserim

2008-11-13T10:11:00.000-08:00

"Para a parte do norte [do planalto fortificado de Asserim] fica o Passo das Vacas, chamado assim porque por ele se provém de vacas para sua sustentação, guindando-as por uma janela que cai sobre o exterior da serra, por não poderem entrar nela por onde entram os homens."

Paulo da Trindade, Conquista Espiritual do Oriente, ca. 1629.

se todas estivessem assim a jeito...

2008-11-10T10:24:00.000-08:00

http://static.publico.clix.pt/docs/cultura/tesouroescondido/

fds

2008-11-07T10:37:00.000-08:00

aquela horinha de sexta quando os amigos todos transmitem:
"se saíres hoje diz coisas"

yepa yepa yepa

2008-11-04T11:51:00.001-08:00

silvério em grande compensa a má qualidade do video...

enviesamento

2008-11-01T18:15:00.000-07:00

T
"Com sorte, farta-se, segue o link para o teu blog e vai começar a ler-te a ti."

(de um comentário apagado a um post retocado de um blog não citado)

(desenterrado recentemente aqui na Pasteleira...)

2008-11-01T17:00:00.001-07:00

Guativanda

Em Xirás atanazada
A rainha do Gorgistão
Foi pois desenterrada
Pelo Ambrósio sacristão

Que de Goa lançado
Em Isfahan cansado
E a Góri chegado

Mostrou ossos ao filho
(Que rezou então em latim)
E dividiu-os por fim
Regressando com estrilho

Para o convento da Graça
Onde o martírio é massa
E com eles foi a enterrar
No chão capitular.

(2004)

Notícia do Público 28/10/2008

2008-10-29T11:47:00.000-07:00

"O arquitecto que sabia resolver as esquinas"

28.10.2008, Sérgio C. Andrade

É uma exposição que condensa a produção de Arménio Losa e do seu sócio Cassiano Barbosa. Arquitecto e urbanista, Losa foi uma figura marcante do movimento modernista.

Arménio Losa (1908-1988) é o menos conhecido e o menos citado dos arquitectos do movimento modernista português no Porto e no Norte do país. O seu nome surge normalmente secundarizado pela proeminência que ganharam as obras de um Januário Godinho (1910-1990) ou de um Viana de Lima (1913-1991), seus colegas no curso de Arquitectura da Escola de Belas-Artes do Porto - que, aliás, viriam a diplomar-se mais tarde -, mas a produção de Losa (que foi casado com a escritora alemã fugida ao nazismo Ilse Losa) merece ser mais bem conhecida, divulgada e apreciada. É esta a convicção do arquitecto Manuel Mendes, responsável do Centro de Documentação da Faculdade de Arquitectura da Universidade do Porto (FAUP), docente, investigador e coordenador da exposição Arménio Losa/Cassiano Barbosa Arquitectos - Nosso Escritório (1945-1957), que hoje às 22h00 é inaugurada no Edifício da Alfândega, no Porto, no dia em que se comemoram os 100 anos do seu nascimento. "A obra de Losa está ainda mal estudada", como desconhecida permanece também a sua efectiva contribuição para a mudança dos paradigmas da prática da arquitectura no Porto e no Norte, realça Manuel Mendes. No texto de apresentação da exposição, este arquitecto escreve que Arménio Losa e Cassiano Barbosa (1911-1998) - dois nomes associados naquele que ficou registado como "Nosso Escritório" entre 1944 e 1963 - deram um assinalável "contributo à ampliação da cidadania da arquitectura, do seu ofício e saber, nas suas dimensões técnica e artística, política e cultural". Mas esta não é uma ideia nova ou recente de Manuel Mendes - já em 1995, num texto que escreveu sobre a obra de Losa aquando da homenagem póstuma que lhe foi prestada pela Câmara Municipal de Matosinhos (que lhe atribuiu a Medalha de Ouro da cidade), este investigador considerava que o arquitecto era membro de pleno direito do movimento modernista. Na mesma altura, e na mesma brochura editada para a homenagem em Matosinhos (uma edição da autarquia e da Afrontamento), o arquitecto Pedro Ramalho, que acompanhara a actividade de Losa desde 1955, dizia que ele tinha entendido "a modernidade no conceito do seu tempo", e que a via precisamente como "oposição e consciência de ruptura". Mendes e Ramalho surgem agora de novo juntos neste programa que assinala o centenário de Arménio Losa, cabendo ao segundo a organização das actividades paralelas à exposição documental: um concurso de fotografia, um ciclo de conferências, uma mesa-redonda, uma visita guiada à mostra da Alfândega e ainda um concerto.Para a exposição, Manuel Mendes pensou inicialmente documentar a produção dos anos 1940/50 do "Nosso Escritório" (a expressão está manuscrita por Losa numa folha de papel com um desenho para um móvel que foi instalado no escritório dos dois arquitectos). A parceria profissional de Arménio Losa com Cassiano Barbosa deu continuidade a uma amizade certamente fundada nos anos em que ambos frequentaram a Escola de Belas-Artes, na viragem dos anos 20/30, e que o segundo chegou a evocar no seu Álbum Esquecido: "As nossas controvérsias tinham como motivo o modernismo na arte e como cenário o claustro (...) do Museu Soares dos Reis, onde injuriávamos a arte clássica, exaltávamos Picasso, Calder, Corbusier e Frank Lloyd Wright...". Nessa produção da sociedade Losa/Barbosa avultam dois edifícios ainda existentes no Porto, e que são raros sobreviventes de uma produção "que em grande parte está destruída", lamenta Manuel Mendes. São o bloco de habitação da Boavista/Carvalhosa (1945) e o edifício da Rua de Sá da Bandeira (1946), ambos desenhados para um mesmo cliente, entendidos como "acções fundadoras" daquela sociedade, e dos quais foram recentemente depositados nos arquivos da FAUP documentos que permitem conhecer em detalhe todo o processo de projecto e de construção.

Reinventar o lote estreito

O edifício da Boavista/Carvalhosa é a expressão mais feliz daquilo que era a visão de Losa para uma arquitectura familiar e doméstica, a que ele dedicou grande parte do seu trabalho. Manuel Mendes diz que Losa - que considera "o mais criativo e o mais modernista" dos dois sócios - actualizou esta tipologia muito característica da arquitectura portuense, e que aquele designa como "de lote estreito de contiguidade" e que era ainda regido pelas fachadas estreitas vindas do século XIX.Outro exemplo desta vertente na obra de Losa é a cooperativa de habitação que ele fizera, antes, para a Boavista/Pinheiro Manso (1936), num projecto que mostra a sua capacidade e a originalidade com que resolve edifícios de esquina, de que se torna "um especialista", diz Manuel Mendes. O edifício em Sá da Bandeira é já outra dimensão da produção Losa/Barbosa, e Mendes classifica-o mesmo como "uma espécie de Broadway" na Baixa do Porto; é um edifício que corta com o convencionalismo até urbanístico que imperava à época, e que expressa um modernismo "que vai beber ao racionalismo italiano, mas também à vertente mais decorativa da Werkbund alemã", nota o professor da FAUP. A exposição na Alfândega, apesar da exiguidade do espaço disponível, acabaria por crescer para a documentação de 86 trabalhos, que são "condensados como uma prenda", diz Manuel Mendes. Nelas são apresentados projectos, mas também o contexto urbano e social em que eles foram idealizados e implantados. E das múltiplas dimensões da obra de Losa representadas avulta o seu trabalho de urbanista, que, nota o responsável pela exposição, inicialmente se pensava ter sido desenvolvido apenas mais tardiamente, mas que afinal vem já da década de 1930, quando Losa colaborou com o gabinete de Aucíndio dos Santos, na Câmara do Porto. Nesta área, estão citados os planos urbanísticos realizados para Gaia (1945-49) e para Macedo de Cavaleiros (1945-51), mas também o da Zona do Hospital Escolar (São João), no Porto (1951-56), ou o de Matosinhos-Sudeste e da envolvente do Mosteiro de Leça do Balio (1961-68). De todos eles, Manuel Mendes destaca "o plano fabuloso" realizado para o Hospital Escolar de São João, "o primeiro que em Portugal segue a Carta de Atenas" que introduz o conceito de "cidade funcional" e a separação das áreas residenciais, de lazer e de trabalho.

"Nosso Escritório"

2008-10-28T05:42:00.001-07:00

28/10/2008
Abre hoje pelas 22:00h, no edifício da Alfândega do Porto, a exposição sobre Arménio Losa / Cassiano Barbosa, integrada nas comemorações do centenário de nascimento de Arménio Losa(que se prolongarão durante o mês de Novembro).

flyer

O brinde na Germânia Superior

2008-10-25T12:48:00.000-07:00

Como já o fazia Salazar - nós levamos o vinho muito a sério. Reflexo desse espírito, não costumamos descurar a ocasião do brinde. Mas, nos dias liberais que correm, reduziu-se ao mínimo as condições para que um brinde seja efectivamente um brinde - espera-se que os copos dos brindantes tenham líquido, que toquem entre eles, e que deles seja sorvido algum conteúdo antes de se pousar novamente o copo na mesa. Em tempos passados, este ritual seria concerteza mais elaborado, conforme as ocasiões e meios onde de se celebrasse. Mas hoje-em-dia, reunidas as três condicionantes descritas, o brinde é eficaz e benigno.

Das primeiras vezes que participei num brinde nas terras do Norte, cometi uma gaffe. Era uma ocasião com um número razoável de comensais, talvez oito. A princípio, tudo se parecia com o nosso ritual...copos em punho foram projectados para a zona do centro-de-mesa, entre uma palavra proferida em coro (que me soou demasiado afrancesada). Após alguns dos copos se terem tocado confusamente, eu retirei o meu e aproximei-o dos lábios para disfrutar daquele néctar (Riesling, se a memória não me falha). Acto contínuo, soaram vozes e intejeições de protesto por parte dos outros comensais que me paralisaram no gesto sorvedor. Olhei em redor, espantado. O que teria corrido mal?

Os alemães seguem escrupulosamente três regras quando brindam. E gostam de dizer que se alguém quebrar qualquer uma dessas regras, esse infeliz terá sete anos de "sexo mau". Esta maldição merecia só por si uma análise mais profunda...o que é propriamente sexo mau? Naturalmente que homens e mulheres, gays e "straights" terão ideias diferentes do que poderá ser sexo mau, aliás, penso que toda e qualquer pessoa adulta neste planeta imaginará coisas diversas quando confrontada com esta anti-fantasia de sete anos de sexo mau. Bom, adiante...afinal quais as regras do brinde?

1. Cada brindante terá de tocar com o seu copo nos copos de todos os outros brindantes. À priori, isto poderá parecer linear, mas se imaginarem uma mesa de oito pessoas ou mais, a situação complica.

2. No momento exacto em que os copos dos brindantes se tocam, estes terão de se olhar olhos nos olhos.

3. Os braços dos brindantes não se poderão cruzar (no plano horizontal) enquanto estes projectam os copos.

Voltando à noite do riesling, os meus amigos insistiram que eu cumprisse estas regras antes de beber. Contra-feito voltei a projectar o meu copo, que fez "tlim" com outros sete copos, cujos donos foram olhados nos olhos um por um, evitando o cruzamento de braços. Lembro-me que tudo isto demorou alguns minutos (escusados, na minha opinião) e que, quando finalmente levei o néctar à goela, bebi-o de um só trago, dado o incremento da sede produzido pelo exercício físico.

Satisfeitos os meus comensais com o brinde eficaz, perguntei-lhes se faziam isto sempre, mesmo em situações de mesas com doze ou vinte pessoas. Garantiram-me que sim.

A obra desconhecida de Arménio Losa / Cassiano Barbosa

2008-10-23T04:59:00.000-07:00

Inaugura na próxima terça-feira, 28 de Outubro, no museu da Alfândega do Porto, a exposição sobre a obra de Arménio Losa / Cassiano Barbosa.

Mais info:

http://www.oasrn.org/cultura.php?id=95

O Trato na Germânia Superior

2008-10-21T05:34:00.000-07:00

http://ultimahora.publico.clix.pt/noticia.aspx?id=1346910&idCanal=11

Conheço bem demais o dilema que Sarkozy agora enfrenta...mas não é culpa nossa, não é culpa dos Machos Latinos com ML grande. A verdade é que o dilema é tão profundo como interessante como potencialmente perigoso...mas tudo não passará de um ligeiro mal-entendido se as alemãs (e alemães) mantiverem o sentido de humor e nós a cabeça fria.

Vejamos. As minhas deambulações pela alemanha levaram-me a concluír provisoriamente que existem basicamente 4 tipos de trato (relativamente ao nível de proximidade) empregues no acto da saudação entre pessoas que não tenham, assumidamente, uma relação íntima.

1 - O cumprimento formal. Resume-se à linguagem verbal ou gestual. Não há contacto físico.

2 - O cumprimento informal. Acrescenta um bacalhau ao primeiro.

3 - O cumprimento amigável. O mais difícil, geralmente, para os não-germânicos. Consiste numa espécie de meio abraço, um gesto contido e delicado, no fundo, uma arte.

4 - O cumprimento exótico. Geralmente apenas correspondido pelos alemães fora da sua pátria...mas excepcionalmente, poderá ser empregue na Alemanha. Foi isto que aconteceu ao Sarkozy...espetou uns beijos à Merkel...até que ela se fartou do exotismo.

Ora bem...para os não germânicos que têm de cumprimentar um germânico(a), o segredo está em saber discernir qual o trato a empregar em cada situação. Geralmente, se o germânico for educado e culto, ele próprio se encarregará de mostar o caminho para o trato adequado. Contudo, e especialmente quando se trata de um homem não alemão a cumprimentar uma mulher alemã, esta poderá ficar momentâneamente desnorteada, esquecendo-se deste pormenor de civilidade, deixando ao homem a iniciativa de entabular um trato para o cumprimento.

Nesta situação, recomendo calma. O mais seguro, e sempre recomendável para o primeiro encontro, é o cumprimento 2. Em situações muito excepcionais, poder-se-à empregar o cumprimento 3 num primeiro encontro, desde que a mulher tome essa inciativa. Contudo, para o homem que já tiver alguma experiência neste assunto, poderá ele próprio avançar com o cumprimento 3 num primeiro encontro, desde que consiga inferir a partir de outros indícios que a mulher está receptiva a tal gesto.

Geralmente, na Alemanha, o cumprimento 3 é reservado à família e ao círculo das amizades. À medida que o não-alemão for conquistando estas posições, poderá dominar com maior confiança essa arte do meio-abraço. Em resumo, é este o melhor método para o empregar: com confiança, o homem coloca o braço direito no dorso do germânico(a); aproxima o lado esquerdo do rosto ao lado esquerdo do rosto do germânico(a); dependendo do grau de confiança, os rostos poder-se-ão tocar ligeiramente ao nível do zigomático; dependendo do contexto, poder-se-ão dar umas pancadinhas meigas com a mão direita no dorso do germãnico(a).

O não-alemão que conseguir elevar-se entre os germânicos, pelas suas qualidades, charme pessoal e gabarito afirmado em praça pública, poderá chegar ao patamar do cumprimento 4, embora recomende-se muito bom senso na sua utilização. Basicamente, poderá então cumprimentar o germânico, e mais particularmente as germânicas, com o trato do seu país de origem.

Contudo, deverá reverter para o cumprimento 3 ou 2 ou mesmo 1 se pressentir que a sua cotação desceu junto do alemão ou alemã em questão. Isto para evitar o que aconteceu ao nosso amigo Sarkozy.

o que aconteceu ao Vastulec?

2008-10-21T05:13:00.000-07:00

é a nota contestatária deste frequentador assíduo...

19 Out 08

2008-10-20T09:36:00.000-07:00

Aniversário de Alexandra em Esposende

Via Ana

Blood Alley

2008-10-16T10:45:00.001-07:00

Um dos maiores épicos de propaganda e orientalismo...directo do ano de 1955

É que era...

2008-10-01T08:09:00.000-07:00

http://static.publico.clix.pt/homepage/infografia/sociedade/metroporto2008/

Viva a Associção de moradores que irão ser servidos (num futuro próximo) pelo metro do Campo Alegre: A.M.Q...etc!

2008-09-29T03:27:00.001-07:00

via Candice B.

2008-09-23T04:07:00.000-07:00

Fwd: Fwd: Fwd: Re: Re: Re: urgent

6/54 Monteiro & Giro

2008-09-23T02:50:00.001-07:00

T
T

Aurora de Quelimane, (autor desconhecido) ca. 1962

Graças ao Nuno Ferraz, intrépido viajante, podemos espreitar uma das obras mais complexas (e bem preservadas!) de Losa/Barbosa:

http://ferraznoindico.blogs.sapo.pt/7239.html

A Hora Mais Exacta

2008-09-21T06:46:00.000-07:00

T
Imagens
que voltavam devagar,
se encostavam a ela sem pudor.
E no silêncio, a esfinge impenetrável,
sabendo-lhe de cor o coração:
desistente dos barcos,
depondo pelo chão de outros palácios
as armas mais preciosas.
“Não posso”, acrescentara
sentindo aproximar-se a hora
exacta.

Ana Luísa Amaral, 2000

para onde foi o Obliquar?

2008-09-14T09:19:00.000-07:00

...é a pergunta que anda na boca do povo.

Elementary, my dear Watson...

2008-09-09T17:31:00.001-07:00

Vender o peixe...

2008-09-04T05:22:00.000-07:00

(ver: Day minus one do post "Week 19")

Mundano de sexta à noite

2008-08-30T09:07:00.001-07:00

- Fogo...Aquela gaja conseguiu entornar cerveja no meu bolso das calças...
- Hmm...Aquele tipo anda a evitar-me porque acha que eu quero ter mais alguma coisa com ele...que anormal.
- Pois...que burro.
- Vais saír amanhã?
- Não...às vezes sabe bem ficar em casa para variar...
- Pois sabe, então não sabe.
(equanto esperava pelo primeiro 500, reparei que há agora morangos na selva)

Mundano de quinta à noite

2008-08-29T12:17:00.000-07:00

- Outro burro que traz o carro para aqui...
(aproxima-se um mercedes preto, descapotável, topo de gama, conduzido por um homem careca de blazer e com olhar esgroviado)
- Hmm...pois...mas ele até tem espaço para passar...porque é que ele não avança?
- Estranho...parece que vai saír do carro...
(o homem careca sai do carro, tranca as portas - completamente desnecessário dado a capota estar toda aberta mas coerente com a irrealidade da situação - deixa-o no meio da rua e entra num bar)
- Olha, agora vem aí um táxi...
(o táxi aproxima-se do mercedes preto imobilizado na via e pára, visto não poder seguir caminho)
- Hmm...o taxista já saiu do carro, está com cara de mau...
- Agora saiu o cliente...mas...mas, é o tipo dos gatos amestrados!
- Ei...pois é...e tá completamente fora...
(o homem careca sai do bar com um copo de vidro cheio de cerveja, entra calmamente no carro, o tipo dos gatos amestrados vai falar com ele, dir-se-ia que trocam palavaras de cortesia...muito sorrisos...e os carros proseguem lentamente por entre o ajuntamento).

Returning to the convent

2008-08-25T12:25:00.000-07:00

The Augustinian convent at Old Goa was closed down in 1835 and all its property confiscated by the state. Most of the religious artefacts – statues, crosses, retables, choirs, pipe-organs, etc – were acquired by smaller churches in Goa. For a brief period, the convent was reused as a Hospital; however, it proved too costly to maintain. It later came under military authority but was never reoccupied. In 1846, the huge stone vault of the church collapsed. This led to the fast decay of the whole convent. In the 1930s, very little was left standing except for the main façade and its right-hand side tower. At this time, the members of the Archaeological Committee of Goa started to clear the vegetation and debris within the ruins of the church. They also “saved” some of the church’s glazed tiles by removing them and reaffixing them in other churches. The clearing of debris, vegetation and entangled roots near the main façade caused its collapse. Only a portion of the tower still remains, stoically resisting the ravages of time.

"Welcome to this first symposium on the higher consciousness transcendental tantric karmic...this thing."

2008-08-20T07:01:00.001-07:00

Celebrating 10 years!!!

What goes around comes around

2008-08-18T09:17:00.000-07:00

Having just turned 24, I visited Goa for the first time. A few years prior to that, I came to know through books and friends that Goa was the place where Portuguese and Indian cultures had mixed more intensively. I figured we (Goa and me) had necessarily a lot in common since we were both the result of an indo-portuguese marriage. Naturally, by the time I set foot in Goa, my expectations about the place were running very high.

This marriage, although agitated and ending in a messy divorce, had originated beautiful fruits. Fruits of singular beauty - a beauty not always apparent but sensed and discovered. A beauty entangled with irresistable stories...the stories that spring fourth from the encounter between East and West.

The stories of this encounter - in which I include my own story - mesmerize me more and more. Although the stories often have a violent or painful backdrop, they also inlude precious moments of travelling, home coming and...biteer-sweet moments of homesickness.

Moments of adventure.

When I set foot in Goa for the first time, having just turned 24, I literally ran back inside the airport. Having realised there was no one to pick me up, I had to escape a mob of excited taxi drivers who, in the thick of the monsoon station, were really in need of customers.
Back inside the airport, I called my contact. He gave me the proper instructions and directions concerning the taxi voyage.

There was some suspicious stuff at the pre-paid counter...I later realised they overcharged me something like 30rps.

That first drive from Dabolim to Taleigão left a deep imprint in my memory...everything was covered with a layer of green so...green it almost hurt the eyes to look at. The sun shone vigorously through the clouds. The ambassador slowly cruised along the Zuari riverfront...

...I knew then that Goa would not only live up to my expectations but greatly surpass them.

It still does.

The most useful CAD command

2008-07-24T04:50:00.001-07:00

Via Diogo Paradinha

Week 19

2008-07-07T01:19:00.000-07:00

Day Minus Three (7th July)

How I indulge in departures and arrivals...it is indeed the ultimate high. And thus the only way of keeping myself mentally healthy. The friends and places I shall revisit - how much has changed and how much remains unaltered.

And then those places and friends become too familiar and my home too small and so it will be time to leave again.

I was musing about all this yesteday while I sat on the pebbles next to a creek inside the Molem forest. LV and the rest of the party had gone for a walk and I stayed behind, near our resting spot. In the middle of the river was a big tree and the water ran crystalline around it, with a strong current thanks to the rains.

When they returned from the walk, Valmiki showed me a little leech he had spotted and picked up. Placed anew on the ground, the leech started taking relatively giant leaps in the air towards the direction of sensed heat - me. Its body stretched like a serpentine and then recoiled and in this manner the leech advanced.

Likewise the leech, my travell is much dictated by the search for warmth, human and climatic.

In the hope of refuelling my vital saps.

Returning to Pangim, I had dinner at Edu's with PVG and PV and again talked about arrivals/departures and stalemates. In both of these state-of-minds, poetry and coincidences can and often do happen.

Now, I confess to sadness upon facing the task of closing the suit-case.

I wish I could just travell without it.

Day Minus Two (8th July)

A lazy start in the morning led up to lunch with AS and Romain at the Internationa Centre. The conversation eventually went towards the foreigner issue in Goa. And AS, being the only Goan present, kindly refrained from delving in the topic. I know he welcomes strangers and expats like us - still, the threat is real and people are reacting and it might just be a good thing that I take off now and let some of these things be settled by the Goans in my absence.
Later came the meeting with PVG and NT at the (in)famous Kala Academy cafeteria. On the table were the usual courses of Indo-portuguese cooperation regarding Heritage under the A.S.I.
At 19:30 was the reception at the Consul's residence, with the average selection of drinks and canapees. A holder of the cross of the Infante order struck up a jolly conversation about the lack of balls amongst the Portuguese in general since some remote past dating back to 1974, 1961, 1910, 1830 or 1665. I further believe that this lack of balls has also been afflicting the Indian male pool countepart for some time now...as I'm sure the cross-holder would agree. Therefore, I am doubly cursed by this handicap...where can one attend a "Have Balls" crash-course?
Dinner ensued a little later at Biblo's house. The carefree and hospitable Goan spirit was at its best...not to mention a bebinca accompanied by scotch. A wonderful farewell dinner from Goan Lands.

Time came to pass and I was back at LV's house, lying on the archbishop's bed and staring at the fan, as has happened time and time again during my stays in India. And now it occured to me that this four-poster bed, made out of Zimbó wood, with the sacred Heart of Jesus at its head, if clad with Ivo's trippy paintings on all sides and on top, instead of the common mosquito mesh, would become the perfect synthesis/metaphor of Goa - the Goa as I have known it so far...

Day Minus One (9th July)

I got up fresh and early with a sense of patriotic duty to be perfomed. This lasted untill breakfast - which was fortunately in the company of PVG and PV. By then, the patriotic feeling had subsided as I reflected upon the kind of information that I ought to provide the minister regarding Old Goa. It is such a sad story of disease, decay, abandonment and...overall lack of balls - even to this day.

Anyway, I followed the protocol and tried always to be close to the minister during the guided tour. This was not easy...these experienced ministers move very fast ahead.
A diplomatic analysis might state that the tour had two high points: the informal discussion regarding Heritage between the minister, the ambassador, the consul, PVG and NT in the middle of the transept at See Cathedral; and the visit to the nuns in Sta. Mónica.
In this last place, I could make out that the minister was moved by the warmth and hospitality displayed by the sisters and the novices.
At the door of this convent, and with the door of his Merc already open, I dismissed myself from the minister's company, wishing him a good journey back. I then returned my "uniform" (a Dutti shirt) to PVG - I still can't afford one of my own. At this juncture, I bade farewell to my two benefactors.

The last lunch was at the Velho's kitchen table: the sunniest spot in the whole of Goa. I was dropped at the airport by the extended family and made my way smoothly into the plane and then smoothly into Delhi.
After greeting Neeraj and Manasi, we had dinner in Rajouri Graden.

Day Zero (10th July)

Why does the prospect of going back to Europe make me nervous? Two main reasons: first, I owe a lot of money there; second, I possess a lot of material things there that require my attention and dedication.

You guessed right: I am not a very practical person.

My last night in India was therefore of troubled sleep.

However, I must confess that one thing strongly attracts me to the West at this particular time. That is the collective mood of crisis - narrowing on despair - that presently looms over the Portuguese nation. I feel that a people thus convulsed and confused tend to be rather romantic, quixotic if you will. Disillusionment brings the poetry back in to society as people live day-to-day in suspense regarding their future. I want to witness this as much as I want to see the sparkle of India glow...

Early breakfast was mango and tea. Neeraj's driver dropped me at the airport after dropping Neeraj himself at his office. The check in was prolonged but went through withou hastle.

I now board my plane...we fly now over Rajasthan, over Pakistan, over Afghanistan, Turkmenistan, the Caspian...we fly now over the Caucusus mountains...

We are in Europe.

At Heathrow, I headed towards the TAP desk in terminal 2. And - what a surprise! - at the desk was a beastly and arrogant woman, well into her fifties. Still, the telegraphical exchange in Portuguese was somehow conforting. With my reservation confirmed, I thought on ways how to entertain myself during the next 10 hours - the time lasting untill my connection flight to Lisbon.

I bought a sandwich and some chocolate and bunked down in the lounge.

At around 11, I stretched out across the chairs as was being done by other fellow-travellers.

Day One (11th July)

(The muffled sounds that pervade my wave lenghth while I try to sleep in the airport lounge: two Japanes girls talking in whispers, slightly suspicious of their surroundings; the constant flow of the rolling escalader; slight sounds of people coming and going and looking for places to rest; a party of italians that just have the opera vibes inside them and really distress me; and, every 15 minutes, the all imposing orwellian announcement that strikes like an electrical shock upon this otherwise cozy and peaceful corner of the airport: "UNATTENDED LUGGAGE WILL BE REMOVED AND DESTROYED"...)

Day one in Europe: the flight to Lisbon; the taxi in Lisbon to the train station (paid with five euros and one pound); the train to Aveiro full of beautiful Portuguese girls.

I have arrived.

Excuse me, Mr. Zimler?

2008-07-01T06:13:00.000-07:00

r
WR: Richard, what amazes me about your book is that you have never visited Goa and yet one gets a distinct impression as if you spent a year here...

RZ: What a wonderful compliment! I wanted to go to Goa, but English and Portuguese friends kept telling me how much it has changed over the last forty or fifty years, and I was worried that some aspect of its present landscape and culture would "infiltrate" the picture I had already formed in my head of Goa at the end of the 16th century. I didn't want to risk any modern details in the book – anything that wouldn't be accurate for the 16th and 17th centuries – so I didn't go.

(from an interview to Richard Zimler, published in the Goan Daily "Herald")

Ok...I have to get this one straight...Zimler formed an image of Goa at the end of the 16th century by working in the libraries and archives of Portugal or Europe. Possibly by looking at images of landscapes, buildings, objects and people. And when he had to decide if he should visit Goa, he took the advice of some people who told him Goa had changed a lot since 1961 and thought it better to stay put.
This means he did not consider it important to see or hear what the Goans - or Indians - think of the Inquisition or what traces this phenomenon has left in Goan culture and landscape. Therefore, his books relapses into a classical form of Orientalism - Zimler detatches himself from his topic, avoiding the "breathing in" and the first hand observation of the present culture whose past and historical phenomena he describes.

And I just wonder if it was a Portuguese of Goan background who influenced his decision not to visit this place...this place that continues weaving and exporting black legends.

Week 18

2008-06-30T23:31:00.001-07:00

Chillin at the Vihar after another Old Goa trekking day (Photo by Romain)

Week 18

2008-06-30T23:17:00.000-07:00

(1st July)

The good old Indian disregard for verifying historical facts:

http://blogs.reuters.com/india/2008/06/30/indian-newspapers-fall-for-baroque-nazi-war-criminal-hoax/

Week 17

2008-06-27T00:09:00.000-07:00

Encounters of the 1st degree...

"The natives, who first saw them, went to Cotta and informed the king that a new people had arrived, white and beautifully made, who wore iron coats and iron caps, and drank blood and ate stones; who gave a gold coin for a fish or even a lime; and who had a kind of instrument that could produce thunder and lightning, and balls which, put into these instruments, would fly for a great distance, break ramparts, and destroy forts."

[from a description when the Portuguese first arrived in Sri-lanka, 1505]

Week 16

2008-06-22T01:53:00.000-07:00

Towards the marvels of Dona Paula (21st June)

Shifting to my new temporary refuge, I feel my (self-imposed ?) exile to be sweeter than ever.

Home is, indeed, always somwhere else.

Are these holidays or working days or...just days?

"Igreja de Socorro.
- Trono sexteado com nichos em cada aresta para relíquias, no altar-mor. Proveniência: Convento da Cruz dos Milagres de Velha Goa."

Ricardo Michael Telles, Inventário dos objectos dos conventos e igrejas e palácios e fortalezas de Goa, Separata do "Oriente Português", 1935.

Week 15

2008-06-22T01:47:00.000-07:00

Again, I don't know where this week went...

Orientalism last epic moment

2008-06-13T07:42:00.001-07:00

...by the way, it's true and I had them all.

Week 14

2008-06-09T23:25:00.000-07:00

(2nd June)

Returning to my bearings in this land of goans and non-goans...the monsoon looms.

(3rd June)

The retro-Indiana Jones at the Inox and the delicious pizza at Edu's...the monsoon looms.

(4th June)

Another day at the University library with Pissurlencar's collection...the monsoon looms omniously.

(5th June)

Another day at the University Library...the monsoon omniously looms.

(6th June)

With LCO at the Old Goa museum...closed for visitors, somehow open for scholars.
Trekking with LV the Old Goa wall, we got drenched in rain, got lost, had to avoid suspicious buffalos and took rest near a cross. Later, dinner at the Venite with PVG and company...the mosnoon is so close.

(7th June)

LCO left.
The Monsoon arrived.
Portugal won.

(8th June)

Dinner with PVG and PV.
Who is coming down during the monsoon? only the fools.