Somos os Pet Shop Boys!

A while ago, Raquel, a woman introduced to me by Sandra, my liaison with the university, asked if I'd want to see the Pet Shop Boys here. I told her surely, and she ended up not being able to go, so she sold me her ticket (R$45, the price for students and youth - everyone else pays R$90). Unfortunately, I couldn't find anyone to go with; neither her friends, nor my new queer friends at school. André tried to get some more tickets from a friend of the producer, but to no avail. I offered to sell the ticket to him, since he's apparently passionate about them, much more than I am. He didn't want to go himself, and I almost wasn't going to go myself, but I did.

Going to a concert, in any country, by yourself, is an interesting experience. You get to freely wander through the crowd, and pay more attention to the ambience as well. I was surprised that the average age was about 35, and more than half the crowd was straight. My friends at school love them, and when I learned about the Pet Shop Boys a year or two ago, I thought only gay people listened to them.

Not the Pet Shop Boys, but some other band, in the Arena at Chevrolet Hall -->
http://www.maristahall.com.br/novo/index.asp
(Chevrolet Hall official website)

I'm really quite a party pooper. While I gyrated the whole time, on my mind were some deep thoughts - what it must feel like to perform for a foreign audience. Aside from "Somos os Pet Shop Boys," they spoke in English, and occasionally, there'd be a pause after what they said while everyone processed the words and decided whether to clap, scream, or do nothing. Most people here in the higher echelons have some faculty of English, so there definitely wasn't total miscommunication. Speaking of said crowd, the vast majority of the crowd was very European-ish. Whiter people are richer here, so it makes sense, but the unconscious affinity with white faces (I can't help it) here made me tune in to the emotional vibes, and I became really aware of the fact that people all over the world are really all the same - with the same aspirations, needs, pleasures, etc. I also thought of the role of foreign investment here, as the name of the venue is Chevrolet Hall, and there was a car elevated next to the stage, and Chevrolet insignias scattered about with the slogan "Conte Comigo" (Count On Me).

Now, what I REALLY enjoyed this weekend (the show was nice, but really more of a sociological observation session for me, and occasional boy observation session too, of course), was going to a samba bar last night! Carla, with whom I have two classes, invited me, and she and her friends say I'm now converted to the religion. We went to Bar do Cartola, in memory of a famous male sambista of the same name, in Caiçara, a neighborhood to the NW of the city. It was absolutely fabulous, and any vision you have of Brazilians all sambando together, is totally true. While people don't samba in the streets and women don't walk around with hats of fruit, inside this newly-expanded bar, everyone was having a blast. Here, the men can actually dance, most of them, in contrast with American men who are quite reticent. For me, there was the constant underlying cruising eye, and guys I could have sworn were gay ended up making out with girls. The only thing that happened to me in that realm last night was a man in his 60s who was pretty damn drunk and was dancing near me when I was taking a rest in a chair. I could tell he was trying to meet eyes with me, so I just totally ignored him. I probably should have just not cared about him and danced whenever I wanted to (I forget if I was faking resting at any point), but older gay men still make me somewhat uncomfortable.

We left the bar around 4am, and Carla, her friend Gabriel, and myself went back to her apartment in the Centro. She said it was a pretty crappy apartment, but I felt right at home. With all the strange angles, plastic wire sheaths, washing machine in the kitchen, it felt just like my friend Julia's apartment in the Village. On the 16th floor, she has an incredible view of the Central Station, some plazas, the Santa Tereza Viaduct, and the mountains in the distance. She says the location is wonderful, nothing has ever happened to her in terms of crime, or anyone she knows in the area, but she just doesn't like the apartment itself. She'll be moving to Caiçara in July, to her brother-in-law's apartment, where the rent will already be paid for.

This morning, we went to the Hippie Fair (a craft fair that used to be entirely handmade things, but industrialized items, like Kipling bags, are slowly infiltrating it), passing through the Parque Municipal first. I didn't buy anything aside from some little things to nibble on. I felt, again, right at home; the park is like Belo Horizonte's Central Park, and the fair is very well-organized, and because it rained cats and dogs this morning, it wasn't too packed - I felt like I could have been in a fair in the U.S.

We're going to the Bar do Cartola again on Friday, and then one of the friends I met at that gay club I went to 2 weeks ago is having a birthday party on Saturday. I'm going to look into gay samba bars - I think samba is much more conducive to sensuality than wretched techno music - and I can't wait until I can unabashedly samba again. :)