Thursday, May 29, 2008

“Tuguinhá, tenho feijão coarrôis feito, quer vir jantá?”

Desde que aprendeu a expressão “Tuga”, “Tugolândia” não quer outra coisa.

O convite veio às 7 da tarde (que caso fosse holandesa teria como resposta “posso marcar um appointment 4f a uma semana, das 7 as 9, pode ser?) de um “excêntrico” brasileiro, que tem ar-condicionado em casa (e não aquecimento) pois “não suporto temperaturas acima dos 15 graus”. Hoje “ama Bethânia” porque “ela é tudo de bom” com a mesma volatilidade que amanhã a acha “chatinha, num-é-não?”. É um pagode e um prazer trabalhar com ele.

Adora cozinhar (abençoado) e faz um arroz de feijão que é uma maravilha. Ensinou-me a fazer pão de queijo (bom, bom, mas bom), ao qual ganhei o nome de “Maria Aparecida”, no sentido queridinho da palavra “ó Aparecida, cê é já da casa, dá pra mim a saladeira, faz favô?”. Samba e dança o mambo como ninguém e deixa-me voicemails mais ou menos “Pálhaçáda, vê se atende esse telemóvel”. Uma espontaneidade que nunca vi em ninguém!

Ah e se ainda não perceberam joga da equipa contrária! :-( O que, por outro lado, nos possibilita a ter diálogos como estes:

E: “esse grandão tem qualquer coisa! Gente, só de pensar...” (pronúncia brasileira)
A:”olha que eu acho que ele joga na minha equipa” (tuga)
E: “Tuga, você é muito fechada! Eu sou assim, super liberal, super aberto, assim, numa boa, ele gosta de mulher, tudo bem, sem preconceito, por mim aceito, sem exclusidade.”

E: “não! A espanhola veio novamente de bota branca! Ai, vou lá falar com ela! (pronúncia brasileira)
A : “mas estás louco?! Tens lá tu a ver o que é que ela calça” (tuga)
E: "Não, pára! Não viaja! Bota branca, não!” (pronúncia brasileir)
A: risos
E: “fála a sério! Eu não
saio contigo se voce me aparecer de bota branca”

E: queijo bom! É de portugal? Parece brasileiro...
A: é assim! Em alguns aspectos a colonização foi bem feita...

E: e eu que estava começando a gostar de você

E: Oi? Não entendo a tua pronúncia.
A: Qual pronúncia? Tu é que tens pronúncia... Mas estás doido. Português de Portugal ou é Português do Brasil?
E: Ahhh, vê se me erra!

Enfim, os exemplos poderiam continuar mas voltemos ao jantar: esta personagem, de vez em quando faz feijão com arroz para a “Tuguinha”.

Da última vez resolvi aprender: "ah, o segredo está no feijão e você experimenta fazer o refugado com bacon – só um pouquinho, não vai abusar”.

Muito bem, fim-de-semana seguinte lá fui eu com o objectivo de encontrar “feijão preto”. Qual não é o meu espanto que encontro esta marca por lá! Quer dizer então que tenho família envolvida em negócios por essa América Latina fora e não sabia de nada...

Lá segui as instruções do Mestre – 2 dias de molho para depois cozer melhor. Fazer o refugado em lume brando com os ingredientes normais (e poder acrescentar outros a gosto). E depois juntar o feijão, já cozido. E pronto! Nada mais simples.

Quando lhe liguei a contar a novidade, perguntou: “Ficou cozido? Assim, tenrinho?”. “Claro, agora deixava lá o feijão cru? Acho só que ficou um bocado para o picante”. “Mas ficou cozido mesmo? Muito bem, tuguinha estou impressionado?”.

Ainda não sei o que queria dizer com isto, mas parece que é difícil cozer feijão à primeira :)


Ah, e tenho mais algumas expressões para acrescentar:

  • “viajar na maionese”, significa ideias estapafúrdias
  • “barriga de tanquinho”, pessoa com abdominal definido... relacionado com os tanques tradicionais de lavar à mão. Um exemplo... hummm, Cristiano Ronaldo.
  • “falar abobrinha”, dizer disparates
  • “matar cachorro a grito”, desespero.
  • "boca de chupa ovos", pessoa que não tem lábio superior.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

O melhor anúncio a passar na TV holandesa

Não sei porquê sempre tive um enorme fascínio por anúncios, por isso é algo que me intriga é a publicidade na Holanda. Não percebo, não acho piada, não conectamos no sentido de humor.

É o primeiro sítio aonde vejo outdoors em que separam a palavra no final da linha. Enfim... se calhar os famosos "choques culturais" - ou se calhar a forma mais fácil de justificar.

À excepção deste anúncio. da pesquisa da internet parece-me que os cérebros são estrangeiros, mas é, para mim, o melhor anúncio a passar na televisão holandesa.


Creepy...

O nível da moralidade está tão baixo em Portugal que hoje dei por mim a pensar que a Manuela Ferreira Leite seria uma lufada de ar fresco.
Depois o cérebro foi irrigado e atribuí esta falta de discernimento ao excesso de trabalho que me impede de vir aqui.
Como diz a Brasuca "viajar na maionese"...

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Muito que magoei!

Que o gajo pareça que engoliu 10 dm3 de ar de tão inchado que está e que tenha tomado um porradão de valiums antes de entrar em palco apenas me choca.

Que seja a prova viva de que o tempo por todos passa e num ápice precisaremos de ajuda para executarmos as tarefas mais simples ... uma porra, mas aceita-se.

Que o concerto tenha sido não "Milton e banda" mas sim "banda, a histérica que provavelmente não ouviu uma palavrita do que o Mestre cantou já que gritou o tempo todo, pior antecipava as letras das músicas com um nível de decibéis que provavelmente seria alvo de referência do Francisco Ferreira no "Minuto pela Terra na Antena1" ("por motivos de saúde pública mantenham-se afastados daquela louca do concerto de Milton com cabelo esquisito" com aquela música de fundo, um bocado irritante que eles têm) e eventualemente o Milton" ok uma pequena desilusão mas os músicos eram bons.

Agora que o Beatriz tenha saído do alinhamento do concerto, isso não há desculpa... Andou para lá a tocar Ravel com uma sanfona que sinceramente quase não se ouviu. Deu solos a todos os músicos que estavam com ele. Beatriz, népia!

Aliás, nem Beatriz, nem Sertão das Águas, nem nada... vá la que tocou "Maria! Maria!" que levou o Coliseu cá do sítio ao rubro (e a doida que passou o concerto a gritar a subir às parede).

Só por causa disso, dois meses sem ouvir a música...
dois não... fogo... vá um... ma semana
ok, passo a ouvir a versão da Maria João

E da próxima vez vou estar na primeira fila só para demonstrar todo o meu desagrado com esta situação :-)

É a votar, pessoal!

Este anúncio merece o vosso voto. Mais não seja porque o cérebro é português e é minha amiga.

You Gotta Lick It!

A dita Liberdade

For Abdel-Qader Ali there is only one regret: that he did not kill his daughter at birth. 'If I had realised then what she would become, I would have killed her the instant her mother delivered her,' he said with no trace of remorse.

Two weeks after The Observer revealed the shocking story of Rand Abdel-Qader, 17, murdered because of her infatuation with a British soldier in Basra, southern Iraq, her father is defiant. Sitting in the front garden of his well-kept home in the city's Al-Fursi district, he remains a free man, despite having stamped on, suffocated and then stabbed his student daughter to death.

Abdel-Qader, 46, a government employee, was initially arrested but released after two hours. Astonishingly, he said, police congratulated him on what he had done. 'They are men and know what honour is,' he said.

Rand, who was studying English at Basra University, was deemed to have brought shame on her family after becoming infatuated with a British soldier, 22, known only as Paul.

She died a virgin, according to her closest friend Zeinab. Indeed, her 'relationship' with Paul, which began when she worked as a volunteer helping displaced families and he was distributing water, appears to have consisted of snatched conversations over less than four months. But the young, impressionable Rand fell in love with him, confiding her feelings and daydreams to Zeinab, 19.

It was her first youthful infatuation and it would be her last. She died on 16 March after her father discovered she had been seen in public talking to Paul, considered to be the enemy, the invader and a Christian. Though her horrified mother, Leila Hussein, called Rand's two brothers, Hassan, 23, and Haydar, 21, to restrain Abdel-Qader as he choked her with his foot on her throat, they joined in. Her shrouded corpse was then tossed into a makeshift grave without ceremony as her uncles spat on it in disgust.

'Death was the least she deserved,' said Abdel-Qader. 'I don't regret it. I had the support of all my friends who are fathers, like me, and know what she did was unacceptable to any Muslim that honours his religion,' he said.

Sitting on a chair by his front door and surrounded by the gerberas and white daisies he had planted in the family garden, Abel-Qader attempted to justify his actions.

'I don't have a daughter now, and I prefer to say that I never had one. That girl humiliated me in front of my family and friends. Speaking with a foreign solider, she lost what is the most precious thing for any woman. 'People from western countries might be shocked, but our girls are not like their daughters that can sleep with any man they want and sometimes even get pregnant without marrying. Our girls should respect their religion, their family and their bodies.

'I have only two boys from now on. That girl was a mistake in my life. I know God is blessing me for what I did,' he said, his voice swelling with pride. 'My sons are by my side, and they were men enough to help me finish the life of someone who just brought shame to ours.'

Abdel-Qader, a Shia, says he was released from the police station 'because everyone knows that honour killings sometimes are impossible not to commit'. Chillingly, he said: 'The officers were by my side during all the time I was there, congratulating me on what I had done.' It's a statement that, if true, provides an insight into how vast the gulf remains between cultures in Iraq and between the Basra police the British army that trains them.

Sources have indicated that Abdel-Qader, who works in the health department, has been asked to leave because of the bad publicity, yet he will continue to draw a salary.

And it has been alleged by one senior unnamed official in the Basra governorate that he has received financial support by a local politician to enable him to 'disappear' to Jordan for a few weeks, 'until the story has been forgotten' - the usual practice in the 30-plus cases of 'honour' killings that have been registered since January alone.

Such treatment seems common in Basra, where militias have partial control, especially in the districts on the outskirts where Abdel-Qader lives.

While government security forces and British troops have control over the centre, around the fringes militants can still be seen everywhere on the streets or at the checkpoints they have erected. And they have imposed strict laws of behaviour for all the local people, including what clothing should be worn and what religious practices should be observed. There are reports of men having their hands cut off for looting and women being killed for prostitution.

Homosexuality is punishable by death, a sentence Abdel-Qader approves of with a passion. 'I have alerted my two sons. They will have the same end [as Rand] if they become contaminated with any gay relationship. These crimes deserve death - death in the name of God,' he said.

He said his daughter's 'bad genes were passed on from her mother'. Rand's mother, 41, remains in hiding after divorcing her husband in the immediate aftermath of the killing, living in fear of retribution from his family. She also still bears the scars of the severe beating he inflicted on her, breaking her arm in the process, when she told him she was going. 'They cannot accept me leaving him. When I first left I went to a cousin's home, but every day they were delivering notes to my door saying I was a prostitute and deserved the same death as Rand,' she said.

'She was killed by animals. Every night when go to bed I remember the face of Rand calling for help while her father and brothers ended her life,' she said, tears streaming down her face.

She was nervous, clearly terrified of being found, and her eyes constantly turned towards the window as she spoke. 'Rand told me about the soldier, but she swore it was just a friendship.

'She said she spoke with him because she was the only English speaker. I raised her in a religious manner and she never went out alone until she joined the university and then later when she was doing aid work.

'Even now, I cannot believe my ex-husband was able to kill our daughter. He wasn't a bad person. During our 24 years of marriage, he was never aggressive. But on that day, he was a different person.'

The mother is now trying to raise enough money to escape abroad. 'I miss my two boys,' she said. 'But they have sent a message saying that I am wrong for defending Rand and that I should go back home and live like a blessed Muslim woman,' said Leila, who is now volunteering with a local organisation campaigning for better protection for women in Basra.

One of those running the organisation, who did not want to be identified, said that Rand's case was similar to so many reported in Basra, with the only difference being she was in love with a foreigner, rather than an Iraqi.

'There isn't too much to say. Rand is dead. It is a tragedy and will be a tragedy for many other families in Iraq in the days to come.

'According to information we have been given, some from Rand's colleague, we have doubts that her love was reciprocated. We have the impression that Rand was in love, but the English soldier wasn't. But, for a girl to be paid nice compliments about her beauty and her intelligence, it was enough for her to think she was in love.

'She isn't here any more for her mother to ask any of the questions she would like to. Rand's case had repercussions because she fell in love with a foreigner. But what about the other girls murdered through "honour" killings because they fell in love with some of a different sect, or lost their virginity, or were forced to become prostitutes?'

Rand's mother used to call her 'Rose'. 'That was my nickname for her because when she was born she was so beautiful,' she said.

'Now, my lovely Rose is in her grave. But, God will make her father pay, either in this world ... or in the world after.'

in The Guardian

Sem Palavras

Então não é que a mulher também canta?! Ainda por cima tem bom gosto musical já que vai buscar reportório Tom Waits e pediu ajuda dele, de Dave Sitek, Nick Zinner e David Bowie.

Depois de ser a Musa do Woody Allen, de ter assinado a colecção para a Reebok (o trabalho fotográfico não está nada de especial - o coraçãozito como assinatura roça o piroso - mas vale a pena ver aqui). Eis que timba: o álbum de estreia.


Ah... e é menina para 23 anitos! (ehehe ainda lhe falta 45 anos de contribuições ao Estado)

Thursday, May 08, 2008

É hoje! É hoje! É hoje! É hoje!

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