Browse Month: September 2010

Beijos, minha irmã…

Last week, I watched my sister fly downwards towards South America, where she’ll undoubtedly paint Brazil a brand new shade of red as she makes her home there for the next four years. I’ve watched her travel the world for roughly twenty years, and whenever I could gather up the time and money, I followed her–to Europe, to Africa, to Haiti, to various places around the States.

My sister and I in her bedroom many moons ago. Note the beloved 'Pound Puppy' in her hands! Hers or mine? Can't say for sure...

When I was 12 years old, I cried, completely inconsolable, when she moved to Italy. When she came home for Christmas that year, and left again after the holidays, I cried harder than before. Eventually, I stopped crying because I realized that all her travel abroad meant wonderful things. New homes abroad for her meant exciting trips abroad for me. In turn, exciting trips abroad to visit my sis meant quality time and good adventuring with her. So began many fun and memorable trips all over the place…

When I was fifteen years old, I went to West Africa on my own to stay with her for three months, and celebrated my sweet 16th during that time. I went back the next year for two months. Even at that young age, I knew better than to take such an experience for granted. This time spent in a quiet part of Africa, in the presence of my sister whom I admired and adored unabashedly, remains a uniquely formative and unforgettable time in my life.

My sister styling my mane back in the day. Sacred duty!

Long and scenic road trips, elegant train travel, not-so-elegant train travel, funny airplane rides, spine-rattling clunker taxis with herds of goat strapped to the roof–we’ve experienced it all together. She is–and will always be–my favorite travel partner. We haven’t done a big trip together in a longish while, so I think about Brazil with great excitement, thinking of the good times to be had when I go visit (often!) in the coming years.  The anticipation doesn’t fully make up for the heavy heartedness that I felt at her leaving, but it levels the emotional field a bit.

Me, my sister, Venice in 2004

So off I go to work on a little Portuguese, and to add people, places and things to my South America bucket list. And to my dear sister– happy trails to you; até logo!

My sister-- dressed as a traveling marchande, gazing out towards distant lands during the late 1970s.


There are a couple of movie channels on the tube that show Bond flicks on a daily or weekly basis, and lately, I’ve been tuning in quite often. They are stylish, exciting, and showcase some great stuntwork. They are chock full of humor–both intentional and unintentional. I’m feeling like sometime in the future, I’ll have to do a full-scale deconstruction of this phenomenon, but in the meantime, I wonder about one thing. I was watching Moonraker a couple of days ago. A few minutes after it started, Bond started making out with some air hostess that he met perhaps 30 minutes earlier, if that. I’m wondering if he uses condoms? Bond probably has more sexual partners than most people working in the world’s oldest profession.

I’d love to see a new installment in the Bond franchise–a new chapter that speaks to the bleak, unimaginative viewer who is not capable of suspending reality. A new phase in Bond’s life in which he works through some challenging setbacks… Something like Bond getting a “Hey-I-wanted-to-introduce-myself-to-you” phonecall at work from a fully-grown biracial lovechild. Or Bond writing a series of child-support checks to keep his brood properly fed and clothed. Or Bond trading in his Aston Martin for a Hyundai so he can help send his twelve or thirty kids to university. Just a thought.

Come on, James, make me laugh ’til my belly hurts. Of course if Mr. Bond does use condoms, these become moot scenarios.

007 doing what he does best!
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