Drift Reality

An old buddy of mine who is a hell of a basketball player is going to be appearing in a new reality show on LOGO television called ‘Shirts & Skins.’

A brief synopsis of the show:

SHIRTS & SKINS is a reality show that follows some the San Francisco Rockdogs. The show focuses the lives of players DeMarco, Chris, Jamel, Mikey, Peter, and Rory as they share a house in the Mission district of San Francisco and attempt to balance twelve different personalities from various ages and backgrounds to come together in time for the national tournament.

The Rockdogs are the defending Gay Game gold-medal winning basketball team from 2006 and must reunite to uphold their city’s three-generation legacy of international gay games gold medal, and national tournament wins.

After their last gold in 2006, the Rockdogs fell apart, only to be rallied back together by their founders to defend their title at the upcoming National Gay Basketball Championship in Chicago.

When the Rockdogs join together as family, they win. So will this new generation of talented players be able to put aside their differences, love lives, and late night rumbles in time to get their game on and bring home the championship?

Tune in to LOGO on Monday, September 15, 2008 at 10pm to follow the drama on the court, and off.

More Information:

Shirts & Skins Facebook page: http://tinyurl.com/shirtsskins

One of the reasons we had such a great time down in Rio is because I had the good fortune to know a few cariocas beforehand through a good friend of mine in the US.  We all corresponded via e-mail before we arrived and the evening of our arrival they drove down to pick us up at our hotel before taking us to one of the more popular clubs in Lapa.

Throughout the week, our amazing hosts took us to a variety of places throughout Rio that we would have never had the opportunity to visit otherwise and because of them, we managed to have a depth of experience beyond what most tourists to Brazil (who are here for one week) can expect. 

In addition to their sense of hospitality and warmth, here are a few other traits I have noticed:

1. Cariocas are laid-back: Cariocas remind me of people I met when I was living in San Diego (except they are more genuine).  They wear sneakers when they go out at night, they love to drink beer, and they seem genuinely relaxed and comfortable with their surroundings and themselves.  This comfort extends to their physicality, as it is not unusual to see overweight men and women in Rio wearing tightly fitted clothing in clubs or small swimwear on the beach with no real sense of self-consciousness. 
2. Cariocas are affectionate - It is really amazing to walk around the city and see how many young couples are physically affectionate with one another in public.  I recall walking down one street and in-between each car on the street was a young couple embracing.  Also, the scene in many of the clubs resembles a high-school party after about 2 in the morning with everyone making out.  In addition, it is common practice for men to greet one another with two kisses, something you rarely see in the States.
3. Cariocas work to live - Although some of the people we met seemed genuinely interested to know more about what we did professionally, the topics of work and/or business rarely came up in social situations.  Most of the time, people seemed interested in cracking jokes or telling stories that really had nothing to do with what they did at work. 
4. Cariocas are passionate - We became particularly good friends with one of our hosts, who managed to spend practically every evening with us despite the fact that he was working a fulltime job and taking classes.  By the end of the week I feel as though we had developed an extremely strong bond despite the short amount of time we had known him.  I get the feeling that people here aren’t as guarded and reserved with their emotions.  If a carioca likes someone then they will make no bones about it.

At any rate, I am sure that more observations will pop into my head but I wanted to jot down some of the more obvious characteristics I have noticed.  If anyone has anything to add, please feel free to leave a comment!

It is making me a little ill to recount last night because the dinner was so God awful. 

I feel bad because the service was pretty solid at the venue but I have to say that Guapo Loco was one of the worst Mexican restaurants I have ever eaten at in my entire life.  I also think I got some minor food poisoning because after eating there I felt exhausted and nauseous for the next several hours and even this morning when I recount my meal it brings back memories that make me feel slightly ill.

At any rate, we met up with our host at our hotel at about 9PM or so.  We wanted to treat him to dinner after he had been such a fantastic host over the past weekend so we settled on a restaurant in Leblon called Guapo Loco.

We sat down and snacked on nachos (the highlight of the meal) while sipping on some really crappy margaritas.  I settled on a taco platter that literally was on par with the tacos at Taco Bell.  George had a burrito that had been garnished with a generous helping of curry (bleeagggghhh). 

I was starving so I basically dumped a load of tabasco on my food and went to town despite the flavor.  I also ate a substantial portion of George’s meal before realizing that I didn’t feel very hot. 

We had a nice conversation during dinner and I was a bit surprised when the bill came and it was about 130 real (about 90 dollars or so) for what I considered to be the culinary equivalent of three meals from Taco Bell.  In fact, I think it is debatable whether Taco Bell serves better food than Guapo Loco.

At any rate, we walked (hobbled?) out of the restaurant and stopped in Copacabana for 1 drink before we made it an early night.

Just a brief update. 

After having spent most of the day yesterday wandering around the city we decided to head back to the beach today.  Unlike Monday, when we spent most of the day at the beach in Ipanema we decided to stay closer to our hotel and set up camp in the middle of Copacabana.

After sitting under the sun for about 30 minutes I decided to try the water, which had felt icy when I dipped my toes in at Ipanema Monday.  I slowly waded in, diving in fully when a large wave emerged and the shock from the icy water jolted me into a different state of conscience and I suddenly felt fully awake and alert.  

Although we have done quite a bit during the first few days here I feel like my mind has been fragmented and I have been reflecting on work, family, life, etc.  Today was probably the first day since we arrived that my mind has felt completely clear and I feel like I am actually in Rio - mind, body and spirit.

I went jogging along Atlantic Avenue this evening and simply enjoyed the sights, sounds and smells of Copacabana.  There was a slight haze in the air and with the sound of waves in the background I could finally begin to understand what made my friend fall in love with the city.

Tonight we are going to meet up with some of his friends and head over to an Irish pub in Ipanema and watch a football match.

After spending a few days hanging out with some of my buddy’s guy friends for the past few days in Rio I gave one of his female Carioca friends a call who seemed extremely friendly and spoke impeccable English.  We made plans to meet at the Astoria and then head to a club in Leblon called House. 

She arrived with a couple of her girl friends at about 9:00 and George and I hopped into the car and we headed off to House.

I was a bit skeptical at first because while the club had an extremely cool vibe to it, we were literally the only ones there however the doorman assured us that the place would fill up later in the night.  We sat outside on the front deck and had a few drinks while chatting about Rio. 

At around 10PM, people slowly started filling into the venue and I became suddenly aware that English was being spoken all around us.  George informed me later that evening that we had unwittingly stumbled onto some sort of event being held for American and European students in Rio. 

Before long, two floors of the club were completely packed with an international crowd - most of whom were speaking English.  It was actually sort of a nice change-of-pace to socialize with people who spoke my native tongue instead of trying to piece together broken Spanish and Portuguese to get things across.  I  met a group of British architecture students who were doing a semester abroad in Rio as well as several American students who were also studying in Rio. 

The night was actually quite enjoyable until about 2 or so, when the place started to resemble a British University club at the end of the night with people stumbling around and making out in corners.  I started to feel my age when I realized I was more disgusted by the debacle than amused by it and really started to feel my age when I started contemplating intervening and putting several girls (who looked underage) in cabs home who were making out with a random assortment of young males.

Fortunately, George shared my sentiments as did our hosts so we headed off to indulge in some late night McDonalds before heading home and to sleep.

Yesterday morning, George and I grabbed breakfast at the hotel and then hopped in a taxi and headed to Corcovado to check out Chris the Redeemer.  We each brought about 50 or so real with us and this left us in a somewhat problematic situation when we arrived to find that tickets on the tram up the mountain would cost about 36 real each. 

After paying for the taxi, paying for the tram would have left us with a collective sum of about 3.75 real but we decided to worry about that later. 

The 30-minute tram ride up was quite enjoyable and offered some truly amazing views of Rio.  We were also entertained by a samba group that came into our train and performed several songs.  I gave them a real at the end of the set to George’s dismay and that left us with a grand total of 2.75 real.

The statue itself is also quite a spectacle and well worth the trip up. 

It is worth noting that George mockingly asked “Who is that?” in reference to the statue as we arrived on top of Corcovado.  “Is that the president of Brazil?”

The questions resulted in a few dirty looks from some Canadian tourists within earshot. 

Regarding the statue itself, I won’t go into that much detail but Wikipedia has a pretty solid article on Christ the Redeemer if you are interested.

After about thirty minutes of snapping photos and mocking other tourists, we decided it was time to go so we headed back down on the tram and discussed our options for getting back to Copacabana. 

We came up with the following list:

1. Hike five miles back to Copacabana
2. Beg for money on the streets near Corcovado to cover bus fare
3. I use our pooled resources to pay for 1 bus ticket and then come back in a taxi to pick George up (we promptly realized that this was no longer a viable option after I gave that real to the samba group)
4. Take a cab back and simply pay him when we got to our hotel

Clearly, the final option was the most intelligent but we decided to try option #1 and began walking back to Copacabana despite having a pretty shoddy tourist map and no spatial understanding of Rio.

From the top of Corcovado I thought I had figured out a route back but we quickly got lost and it took some help from a sympathetic pedestrian to get us back on course.

After about two hours of serious walking we finally emerged onto Copacabana beach, starving and exhausted, but unscathed.

Sunday morning George and I woke up and began wandering down Avenue Atlantica in search of a cafe.  We hadn’t walked for longer than ten minutes when we heard someone shouting our names from down the street.  In a twist of fate we had actually bumped into one of the three people we knew in Rio, Felipe.  Him and his brother were visiting their Grandfather for Sunday lunch and on their way in had spotted “two strange guys” walking down the street.

They invited us to have lunch with them and despite our protests and what I believed to be a slight imposition we ended up having lunch with their family on Sunday afternoon.  We enjoyed a home cooked meal of pasta primavera before heading off to Maracanã to watch the Flamengo football club take on Fluminense in a “friendly.”

Standing outside the stadium, waiting in line for tickets amidst a chaotic mass of Brazilian soccer fans I was fully expecting an overwhelming, daunting experience but was pleasantly suprised when we entered the stadium and found it to be a controlled, pleasant environment.  We promptly found four great seats at midfield and plopped down. 

About thirty minutes before the game commenced it got interesting as the Flamengo fans (which included two large fan clubs) began singing team songs and waving flags.  I did my best to join in despite having zero aptitude in both Portuguese and football etiquette. 

The game itself was pretty exhilirating and I found myself completely engaged in the game throughout its entire duration.  There was a kinsmanship that exuded throughout the Flamengo fans, which culminated in a tremendous uproar when Flamengo scored their first goal to tie the game at 1-1.  As we hopped up and down like lunatics shouting “gooooooaaaaaalllllll” while hugging one another it did strike me for just a minute that I had absolutely no reason to be so happy about the score but the thought passed in an instant as I let myself get caught up in the celebration.

As the game progressed into the second half I did notice that similar to the previous night at the club in Lapa, there was really no aggression or friction on display.  I attribute some of this to the generally amiable attitude of the people in Rio and also some to the fact that alcohol isn’t allowed in the stadiums - a regulation I think some American stadiums might want to consider.

We left shortly before the end of the game (it ended 2-2 with a Flamengo goal in the final two minutes) and headed back, exhausted after another amazing experience in Rio.

Let me preface this entry by saying my brain is completely sun-drenched and I am writing on a sticky keyboard (it took me about four changes of computer at this PC room to find one that was at least semi-suitable) so if any of this is poorly written, well, you get the picture.

George finally arrived in Rio around 6:30 or so on Saturday after also experiencing flight issues. I had called some friends of friends earlier in the day and we agreed to meet at 9AM at our hotel so we had a couple of hours to grab dinner before we headed out for the evening.

We strolled around Copacabana until we came upon a decent-looking churrascaria and headed in. For a set price (of about 50 real) we enjoyed a delicious buffet that contained fresh vegetables, sushi, and fruits, and a barrage of brazilian barbecue that seemed endless. We even tried chicken hearts, which is something I’m glad I did but probably won’t soon be doing again.

After we were nice and stuffed we headed back to the Astoria bar and had a few Skols (a local beer) while waiting for our friends to arrive, which they did promptly at 9PM.

Three guys dropped by the Astoria and although I had never met them personally (they were only friends of one of my close friends in the States) we instantly clicked. Their English was actually pretty solid and we connected over a couple bottles of Skol before heading out the door.

After picking up another car and a few more people, we drove up to Lapa, a neighborhood closer to downtown Rio. The area was absolutely congested with people and traffic and it took around thirty minutes or so to wade our way through the mass of cars and people to a parking space near our destination.

I didn’t know what to expect heading into Rio Scenarium but immediately felt comfortable when we walked in. The entire ambiance of the club was fun and laid back. The design and layout of the venue created the distinct impression that one was walking into a large house party - for those familiar with DC, it felt much more like Science Club than a place like Ibiza.

As we walked in the door they handed us drink cards that the bartenders would later mark-up as they served us drinks. At the end of the night, you handed the drink card to a cashier who then tabulated your bill for the evening. The method definitely facilitated a smoother experience at the bar.

Inside, we walked up three flights of stairs. Each level contained a dance floor, several bars, and lounge areas where patrons could sit and talk. By that point our group had grown to about seven or eight so we walked through the crowd and found an open space by a bar on the third floor where we stayed for the majority of the evening.

Although I didn’t really do much socializing outside of our group (there is a definite language barrier in Brazil) the night was an absolute thrill and I got to connect with our extremely warm and gracious hosts. The crowd itself was unassuming and clearly there for no other reason than to have a good time. I don’t think there was one dirty look in the entire venue nor any sense of pretension. Even though the crowd was packed there was no problems wading through the crowd and from what I could tell there wasn’t much of a sleaze factor either.

At about 4 in the morning we cleared our respective bills and headed home, drunk and happy from the evening’s festivities.