... is where I am going on Monday, December 1st.
It's a hard life I lead, I know.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Loving and hating São Paulo
São Paulo, the ultimate megacity, is a city of contrasts. I feel great affection for the city just as much as I loathe it. Sure, it is a cliché, but as I approach nearly two months living in one of the world´s largest cities with roughly 20 million inhabitants, I must admit that my relationship with the city has developed into a love-hate relationship.
I arrived in São Paulo with an ambivalent attitude, feeling lost in the giant metropolis and scrambling to try and find my bearings. Part of me wanted to go back to Curitiba, the pleasant capital city of Paraná province, with its pleasant parks, smaller size, and already some promising contacts in the Chinese community. But I knew that São Paulo was the big prize of Brazil, where tens of thousands of Chinese immigrants have flocked to over the past couple decades. How I was going to tap into this community was a challenge, quite honestly, I wasn´t sure I was capable of meeting.
My experiences in the city are reflective of these conflicting feelings, contrasting environments. Within my project, I have been able to witness and follow many strands within the Chinese community -- everything from living in a Buddhist temple to watching the Chinese mafia sing karaoke. I´ve followed both the Taiwanese and mainland communities -- which share as many similarities as differences.
There are many things I love about this city -- the amazing music, the multitude of cultural events available every day and nearly every hour, the vitality of the city. Of course, I´ve also seen the dark underside of the city: the violence, the fear and suspicion, the coldness that great cities seem to create from too many humans living too close to one another. I think whatever your feelings are about São Paulo, like any great photo, it will make you feel something. Maybe it is disgust, maybe joy, maybe anger.
I´ve got two more days left in São Paulo, and over these two days (and probably more), I´m sure I´ll be thinking a lot about all that has transpired here, and over these past five (FIVE!!!) months in South America. Five months have gone by remarkably quickly, but at the same time my arrival in Lima, Peru, seems like lightyears ago.
Sadly, I´m now on my third camera (first one stolen, second one broken and in the U.S. being fixed). On the other hand, I think my photography has improved a lot, and my hair has grown to a previously unimaginable length.
I arrived in São Paulo with an ambivalent attitude, feeling lost in the giant metropolis and scrambling to try and find my bearings. Part of me wanted to go back to Curitiba, the pleasant capital city of Paraná province, with its pleasant parks, smaller size, and already some promising contacts in the Chinese community. But I knew that São Paulo was the big prize of Brazil, where tens of thousands of Chinese immigrants have flocked to over the past couple decades. How I was going to tap into this community was a challenge, quite honestly, I wasn´t sure I was capable of meeting.
My experiences in the city are reflective of these conflicting feelings, contrasting environments. Within my project, I have been able to witness and follow many strands within the Chinese community -- everything from living in a Buddhist temple to watching the Chinese mafia sing karaoke. I´ve followed both the Taiwanese and mainland communities -- which share as many similarities as differences.
There are many things I love about this city -- the amazing music, the multitude of cultural events available every day and nearly every hour, the vitality of the city. Of course, I´ve also seen the dark underside of the city: the violence, the fear and suspicion, the coldness that great cities seem to create from too many humans living too close to one another. I think whatever your feelings are about São Paulo, like any great photo, it will make you feel something. Maybe it is disgust, maybe joy, maybe anger.
I´ve got two more days left in São Paulo, and over these two days (and probably more), I´m sure I´ll be thinking a lot about all that has transpired here, and over these past five (FIVE!!!) months in South America. Five months have gone by remarkably quickly, but at the same time my arrival in Lima, Peru, seems like lightyears ago.
Sadly, I´m now on my third camera (first one stolen, second one broken and in the U.S. being fixed). On the other hand, I think my photography has improved a lot, and my hair has grown to a previously unimaginable length.
Friday, November 21, 2008
A lack of photos and posts
I realize that I haven't been keeping up with my output of photos or blog posts of Peru or Paraguay. The main reason is my poor access to internet in Sao Paulo, i.e., my house doesn't have internet. I can go to an internet cafe, but that gets expensive, so if I want to spend an hour on the internet, then I will go to a cafe and use my computer.
Regarding my photos, I've run into an interesting problem. Aside from not having a good camera for about three and a half weeks, my camera is now "too good." The camera my dad loaned me, a Canon XSI, has twelve megapixels, which produces files so large that my little computer says "not enough memory to complete this operation" when I try to resize them. I will have to find another solution.
Regarding my photos, I've run into an interesting problem. Aside from not having a good camera for about three and a half weeks, my camera is now "too good." The camera my dad loaned me, a Canon XSI, has twelve megapixels, which produces files so large that my little computer says "not enough memory to complete this operation" when I try to resize them. I will have to find another solution.
Being robbed in Sao Paulo
"Assalto! Assalto!" (Assault! Assault!) It was somewhat eerie listening to the entire congregation at the Chinese Baptist Church in Liberdade (the "Asian" district), Sao Paulo practicing their Portuguese, with these violent words. The church is made up of almost entirely mainland Chinese immigrants, including the Fujianese man who was murdered a fortnight ago.
The Taiwanese pastor was having the entire church practice saying "assalto" for two reasons. Should the churchgoers be robbed, they would (1) know that they were being robbed -- robbers always say "assalto" -- and (2) they would be able to call 190, the police, and inform them of the robbery.
(The first point shouldn't be taken for granted. A Buddhist friend told me of a robbery of a Buddhist congregation in Aclimacao district in Sao Paulo, when two men came in with guns yelling "assalto." The Buddhist service continued without interruption, the monks reciting from sutras, unaware what "assalto" meant. Only my friend spoke Portuguese, and had to inform the Chinese congregation that they were being robbed, and later had to serve as a translator for the robbers when they tried to extort money from the monks. She had to explain to the robber that Buddhist monks have very few possessions or money.)
"Say 'Assalto,' as clearly as possible. Do not say 'Asado,'" the pastor said half-jokingly and half-seriously. "'Asado' means barbeque."
* * *
"Assalto! Assalto!"
About five seconds passed before I realized that the restaurant was being robbed, and I was in it, and there was no escape.
In fact, my first thoughts when these two men came running in were that I recognized one of the men. Hey, is that Nivaldo, the nice man who has been attending and working at the Buddhist temple for ten years? Who puts his hands together in prayer every time we meet? No, that can't be, this guy's got a scar on his left cheek. It was not in fact Nivaldo, the guy from the temple. Noticeably more aggressive. Oh. Crap. He's robbing the restaurant. Crap.
* * *
I hopped on the back of Li Jinwang's motorcycle, a friend of a family friend, and rode down Cons. Furtado street in Liberdade. I normally try not to walk down the street; it is somewhat desolate during the day, and noticeably dodgier than the main streets of Liberdade. But as we rode off, I noticed Chinese restaurants here and there, which I had never seen because of my avoidance of the street.
Parking outside a nondescript Chinese restaurant, we went inside, into a quiet Hot Pot restaurant. We chatted with the Taiwanese owner for a while, going through the list of usual conversation topics:
1) The economy and local business
2) The wildly fluctuating exchange rate (It was 1.8 reais to the dollar when I got to the Brazilian border in Paraguay, and now it is 2.4 reais to the dollar.)
3) How much better the U.S. is than Brazil (with my futile attempts to convince them otherwise)
4) The recent spate of robberies and murders in the Chinese community
At about 10:30 pm, as the restaurant was closing up and the security guard had already packed up and gone home, the two men came in screaming that word the Chinese have come to fear and recognize.
My second thoughts, after realizing we were being robbed, was that I had my camera on me. Not any old camera, but the camera that I had only gotten two days ago when my parents left Sao Paulo and my dad left me with a fine, working digital SLR. How awful would it be to have this camera robbed, just two days after finally having a working camera, after all the bad stuff my cameras have been through? Luckily they didn't take it, they were after cash and not much more.
Both men had one hand in their shirts, as if to conceal a firearm. They never showed it during the entire robbery, which was to last less than ten minutes; I seriously doubted they had guns, but it was not something I could do anything about.
One man kept lookout at the doorway while the other, with the scar, ushered all the restaurant patrons -- maybe fifteen in all -- into the back room and had us put our hands on the ground. He yelled at all of us angrily, most of which I couldn't understand. He demanded our money, especially dollars. I had about 35 reais (about $17 dollars) and about five U.S. dollars on me, which wasn't anything I was terribly concerned about. I handed it over. The Chinese man behind me, who let out a sigh, handed over more than 50 reais (about $25 dollars); Li Jinwang handed over 20 reais. An old Chinese family handed over a measily 6 reais, or three dollars. They were clearly smart and perceptive. I should have been smarter, these guys clearly weren't pros, and handed over some pitiful amount of money.
He then demanded our phones; I think all of us caught onto the fact that this guy didn't know what he was doing, and I don't think anyone handed over their phones, even though all of us had them. He pointed to me demanding my phone, and following the lead of Li Jinwang, who showed the man an empty cell phone case, I said "Nao tenho," (I don't have it), shrugging my shoulders. I gave myself a mental pat on my back.
Unfortunately, the guys made off with about 800 reais from the poor restaurant owner. I felt really sorry for her, and her workers. As we left about five minutes after the robbery, all I could say was "I'm really sorry" and patted her on the back. Li Jinwang offered to pay by credit card, which she declined.
Being put out twenty dollars is no big deal, but the psychological effects of such an episode can be far greater. A range of emotions overcame me that night -- anger, a desire for vengeance, fear. I wanted some sort of justice, some sort of karmic retribution for the two men. I mainly felt for the poor restaurant owner and her workers -- how hard they must work to earn money, only to have it taken away in blink of an eye!
But as dark and despicable these acts of violence are, I cannot let them cast
a shadow over my time in Sao Paulo, or my life in general. So many people have been victims of robberies here -- Li Jinwang said it was his fourth or fifth -- that there's no point in whining about it. Life goes on, business as usual; I will keep shooting photos; the Hot Pot restaurant will open tomorrow.
The Taiwanese pastor was having the entire church practice saying "assalto" for two reasons. Should the churchgoers be robbed, they would (1) know that they were being robbed -- robbers always say "assalto" -- and (2) they would be able to call 190, the police, and inform them of the robbery.
(The first point shouldn't be taken for granted. A Buddhist friend told me of a robbery of a Buddhist congregation in Aclimacao district in Sao Paulo, when two men came in with guns yelling "assalto." The Buddhist service continued without interruption, the monks reciting from sutras, unaware what "assalto" meant. Only my friend spoke Portuguese, and had to inform the Chinese congregation that they were being robbed, and later had to serve as a translator for the robbers when they tried to extort money from the monks. She had to explain to the robber that Buddhist monks have very few possessions or money.)
"Say 'Assalto,' as clearly as possible. Do not say 'Asado,'" the pastor said half-jokingly and half-seriously. "'Asado' means barbeque."
* * *
"Assalto! Assalto!"
About five seconds passed before I realized that the restaurant was being robbed, and I was in it, and there was no escape.
In fact, my first thoughts when these two men came running in were that I recognized one of the men. Hey, is that Nivaldo, the nice man who has been attending and working at the Buddhist temple for ten years? Who puts his hands together in prayer every time we meet? No, that can't be, this guy's got a scar on his left cheek. It was not in fact Nivaldo, the guy from the temple. Noticeably more aggressive. Oh. Crap. He's robbing the restaurant. Crap.
* * *
I hopped on the back of Li Jinwang's motorcycle, a friend of a family friend, and rode down Cons. Furtado street in Liberdade. I normally try not to walk down the street; it is somewhat desolate during the day, and noticeably dodgier than the main streets of Liberdade. But as we rode off, I noticed Chinese restaurants here and there, which I had never seen because of my avoidance of the street.
Parking outside a nondescript Chinese restaurant, we went inside, into a quiet Hot Pot restaurant. We chatted with the Taiwanese owner for a while, going through the list of usual conversation topics:
1) The economy and local business
2) The wildly fluctuating exchange rate (It was 1.8 reais to the dollar when I got to the Brazilian border in Paraguay, and now it is 2.4 reais to the dollar.)
3) How much better the U.S. is than Brazil (with my futile attempts to convince them otherwise)
4) The recent spate of robberies and murders in the Chinese community
At about 10:30 pm, as the restaurant was closing up and the security guard had already packed up and gone home, the two men came in screaming that word the Chinese have come to fear and recognize.
My second thoughts, after realizing we were being robbed, was that I had my camera on me. Not any old camera, but the camera that I had only gotten two days ago when my parents left Sao Paulo and my dad left me with a fine, working digital SLR. How awful would it be to have this camera robbed, just two days after finally having a working camera, after all the bad stuff my cameras have been through? Luckily they didn't take it, they were after cash and not much more.
Both men had one hand in their shirts, as if to conceal a firearm. They never showed it during the entire robbery, which was to last less than ten minutes; I seriously doubted they had guns, but it was not something I could do anything about.
One man kept lookout at the doorway while the other, with the scar, ushered all the restaurant patrons -- maybe fifteen in all -- into the back room and had us put our hands on the ground. He yelled at all of us angrily, most of which I couldn't understand. He demanded our money, especially dollars. I had about 35 reais (about $17 dollars) and about five U.S. dollars on me, which wasn't anything I was terribly concerned about. I handed it over. The Chinese man behind me, who let out a sigh, handed over more than 50 reais (about $25 dollars); Li Jinwang handed over 20 reais. An old Chinese family handed over a measily 6 reais, or three dollars. They were clearly smart and perceptive. I should have been smarter, these guys clearly weren't pros, and handed over some pitiful amount of money.
He then demanded our phones; I think all of us caught onto the fact that this guy didn't know what he was doing, and I don't think anyone handed over their phones, even though all of us had them. He pointed to me demanding my phone, and following the lead of Li Jinwang, who showed the man an empty cell phone case, I said "Nao tenho," (I don't have it), shrugging my shoulders. I gave myself a mental pat on my back.
Unfortunately, the guys made off with about 800 reais from the poor restaurant owner. I felt really sorry for her, and her workers. As we left about five minutes after the robbery, all I could say was "I'm really sorry" and patted her on the back. Li Jinwang offered to pay by credit card, which she declined.
Being put out twenty dollars is no big deal, but the psychological effects of such an episode can be far greater. A range of emotions overcame me that night -- anger, a desire for vengeance, fear. I wanted some sort of justice, some sort of karmic retribution for the two men. I mainly felt for the poor restaurant owner and her workers -- how hard they must work to earn money, only to have it taken away in blink of an eye!
But as dark and despicable these acts of violence are, I cannot let them cast
a shadow over my time in Sao Paulo, or my life in general. So many people have been victims of robberies here -- Li Jinwang said it was his fourth or fifth -- that there's no point in whining about it. Life goes on, business as usual; I will keep shooting photos; the Hot Pot restaurant will open tomorrow.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Qin-Qi! (Relatives!)
This post is probably an inaccurate description of my relations, but that doesn't seem to matter because however tenuous the relation, we're somehow relatives:
Today I met up with distant distant relatives; I think it goes like this: my mom's dad's distant cousin's child married a woman, whom I call Goy yi-yi, who is also a distant relative of my mom's, but has a different last name (Li as opposed to Rong, my mother's maiden name). Apparently the government moved Goy (Li) to the "Wang" village after a dam was constructed flooding her village, and the "Wang" village shunned her, and she asked my mom's family (Rong or the Wu's... my maternal grandmother's family) to get her out of China. My mom's family in the U.S. had a distant relative who was willing to marry Goy and thus bring her to the United States. They now live in New York City; Goy sells fruit on the streets.
Goy is close to my mom's family, she shows up at all of the family gatherings in NYC. She is an extremely generous person, despite what little has come her way. Goy's younger brother's wife is the younger sister of a woman who I am staying with her. So there you go. We're Qin-qi (relatives)!
I think I've complained here more than once how conservative and "closed off" the Chinese community is, just about anywhere. I'm not saying they aren't nice, but in general, they aren't the sort of people who will let acquaintances or even friends into their personal lives easily. I've found this insularity is both somewhat lessened and exacerbated within the diaspora. For instance, one family in Curitiba was extremely open to me, even after knowing me for just a couple hours. I'd hypothesize that it might have to do with the relatively small Chinese population in Curitiba -- to see another Chinese person was cause for great excitment. When I insisted on paying for a drink and they refused, they said "You're Chinese! Chinese people must help one another!"
On the other hand, in a big city like Sao Paulo, where there are many clans and subcommunities within the Chinese population here, people tend to be more suspicious. You can't just be "Chinese," you have to be "Li," "Wang," "Xie," and not only that, but from the right clan of Li Wang or Xie. Throw in the recent violence (and the likelihood of complicity within the Chinese community) against the Chinese, and everyone has slammed the door, and probably locked it, on the gringo-Chinese dude who popped out of nowhere with the funny accent. And the funny last name (Bien is extraordinarily rare... as is Rong, my mother's last name).
On the other hand, if you have Qin-qi, you're golden. Even if the relationship is as unclear as it is to them as it is to you, most Chinese people will treat you like a long-lost child/sibling.
Today I met up with distant distant relatives; I think it goes like this: my mom's dad's distant cousin's child married a woman, whom I call Goy yi-yi, who is also a distant relative of my mom's, but has a different last name (Li as opposed to Rong, my mother's maiden name). Apparently the government moved Goy (Li) to the "Wang" village after a dam was constructed flooding her village, and the "Wang" village shunned her, and she asked my mom's family (Rong or the Wu's... my maternal grandmother's family) to get her out of China. My mom's family in the U.S. had a distant relative who was willing to marry Goy and thus bring her to the United States. They now live in New York City; Goy sells fruit on the streets.
Goy is close to my mom's family, she shows up at all of the family gatherings in NYC. She is an extremely generous person, despite what little has come her way. Goy's younger brother's wife is the younger sister of a woman who I am staying with her. So there you go. We're Qin-qi (relatives)!
I think I've complained here more than once how conservative and "closed off" the Chinese community is, just about anywhere. I'm not saying they aren't nice, but in general, they aren't the sort of people who will let acquaintances or even friends into their personal lives easily. I've found this insularity is both somewhat lessened and exacerbated within the diaspora. For instance, one family in Curitiba was extremely open to me, even after knowing me for just a couple hours. I'd hypothesize that it might have to do with the relatively small Chinese population in Curitiba -- to see another Chinese person was cause for great excitment. When I insisted on paying for a drink and they refused, they said "You're Chinese! Chinese people must help one another!"
On the other hand, in a big city like Sao Paulo, where there are many clans and subcommunities within the Chinese population here, people tend to be more suspicious. You can't just be "Chinese," you have to be "Li," "Wang," "Xie," and not only that, but from the right clan of Li Wang or Xie. Throw in the recent violence (and the likelihood of complicity within the Chinese community) against the Chinese, and everyone has slammed the door, and probably locked it, on the gringo-Chinese dude who popped out of nowhere with the funny accent. And the funny last name (Bien is extraordinarily rare... as is Rong, my mother's last name).
On the other hand, if you have Qin-qi, you're golden. Even if the relationship is as unclear as it is to them as it is to you, most Chinese people will treat you like a long-lost child/sibling.
"Who's killing all the Chinese people?"
"Who's killing all the Chinese people?"
This isn't the question you want to hear asked of you, especially when you're researching the local Chinese community.
Yet after explaining my project at a bar in Sao Paulo, I was asked this very question. Not a good sign, eh?
I don't know the answer to this question, but it's a fascinating subject. Four Chinese merchants have been murdered in the past two months, and forty to fifty have been robbed. The circumstances are usually more or less the same: someone breaks into an apartment, usually at night, perhaps knowing who is living there, takes the cash. Whether or not violence follows seems completely unpredictable. Apparently it is well known here that many Chinese immigrants keep their money (in cash) at home, rather than putting it in a bank. Many carry loads of cash around themselves in the first place. I've heard some people claim that this is a cultural difference, but it may also be a very practical thing -- many immigrants here are illegal, and therefore don't open any sort of account.
I happened to stumble upon the crime scene of the last murder, which didn't fit this profile at all. A Fujianese man was beaten to death in the early morning of a Saturday, inside of store on a quiet street in Pari, a commercial district. He was just a worker, and not the owner -- and given the strangeness of the crime -- the murder seemed completely random. Other Chinese merchants around the area knew about the murder, but didn't know him nor any details. One Taiwanese family two streets down was good friends with him, and said he was a very... "straight" and "abiding" man (terrible translations, sorry). Apparently he used to live in Ciudad del Este with the Taiwanese family, and were regular churchgoers in Sao Paulo.
Violence is a strange thing, which has unfortunately touched the heart of the Chinese community here in Sao Paulo.
This isn't the question you want to hear asked of you, especially when you're researching the local Chinese community.
Yet after explaining my project at a bar in Sao Paulo, I was asked this very question. Not a good sign, eh?
I don't know the answer to this question, but it's a fascinating subject. Four Chinese merchants have been murdered in the past two months, and forty to fifty have been robbed. The circumstances are usually more or less the same: someone breaks into an apartment, usually at night, perhaps knowing who is living there, takes the cash. Whether or not violence follows seems completely unpredictable. Apparently it is well known here that many Chinese immigrants keep their money (in cash) at home, rather than putting it in a bank. Many carry loads of cash around themselves in the first place. I've heard some people claim that this is a cultural difference, but it may also be a very practical thing -- many immigrants here are illegal, and therefore don't open any sort of account.
I happened to stumble upon the crime scene of the last murder, which didn't fit this profile at all. A Fujianese man was beaten to death in the early morning of a Saturday, inside of store on a quiet street in Pari, a commercial district. He was just a worker, and not the owner -- and given the strangeness of the crime -- the murder seemed completely random. Other Chinese merchants around the area knew about the murder, but didn't know him nor any details. One Taiwanese family two streets down was good friends with him, and said he was a very... "straight" and "abiding" man (terrible translations, sorry). Apparently he used to live in Ciudad del Este with the Taiwanese family, and were regular churchgoers in Sao Paulo.
Violence is a strange thing, which has unfortunately touched the heart of the Chinese community here in Sao Paulo.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Hard times in Sao Paulo
It has been over a week since I've last posted. I've been living in the guesthouse of a Buddhist temple here in Sao Paulo, which has been a fascinating experience. There are four nuns that live here, and one other person who lives in the guesthouse. Overall, I have been very glad to have had this experience. I am about to move to student housing after an unsuccessful quest for a Chinese homestay (see below). The guesthouse will be needed in the next week for a convocation of monks coming from the United States.
My time in Sao Paulo has been wrought with difficulties. My SLR camera has failed and it looks like the shop -- an authorized Canon dealer -- will not be able to fix it. I believe the problem is with the camera software, and not the actual camera itself, which means that probably only Canon will be able to deal with the problem.
On the project front, the Chinese community here is in crisis. There has been a recent spate of robberies, and more alarmingly, four murders in the past two months. All the murders have been of Chinese merchants in the 25 de March area. There is much speculation as to why this is happening: distrust between the Chinese merchant community and the Brazilians who work for them, distrust among the different Chinese clans; distrust within the different Chinese clans -- with the added twist of the Chinese mafia. These events have put the entire community on edge, perhaps reinforcing the clannish tendencies of the Chinese community.
Obviously, this makes for a fascinating case study of the Chinese population here, but has also made it doubly difficult for me to make way into a community deeply suspicious of outsiders, and made it impossible for me to find a homestay with a Chinese family.
My time in Sao Paulo has been wrought with difficulties. My SLR camera has failed and it looks like the shop -- an authorized Canon dealer -- will not be able to fix it. I believe the problem is with the camera software, and not the actual camera itself, which means that probably only Canon will be able to deal with the problem.
On the project front, the Chinese community here is in crisis. There has been a recent spate of robberies, and more alarmingly, four murders in the past two months. All the murders have been of Chinese merchants in the 25 de March area. There is much speculation as to why this is happening: distrust between the Chinese merchant community and the Brazilians who work for them, distrust among the different Chinese clans; distrust within the different Chinese clans -- with the added twist of the Chinese mafia. These events have put the entire community on edge, perhaps reinforcing the clannish tendencies of the Chinese community.
Obviously, this makes for a fascinating case study of the Chinese population here, but has also made it doubly difficult for me to make way into a community deeply suspicious of outsiders, and made it impossible for me to find a homestay with a Chinese family.
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