Matador Network's Blog, page 2246

São Paulo when Brazil scores [vid]

Image via o.canada.com

As a Brazilian and São Paulo resident, I’m used to the emptiness of the city streets when an important match is on. But when that match is a World Cup game, and is being played in São Paulo, and is the tournament opener…well, it’s something else entirely.

German national and São Paulo resident Claus Wahlers captured the sound of São Paulo as Brazil scored three goals during its game against Croatia last Thursday. Behold:

Thanks, Claus. Nice one.

The 8 stages of learning German

Photo: Simson Petrol

This post is written by Adam Fletcher, author of the hit dual-language book Wie man Deutscher wird / How to be German in 50 Easy Steps.
Stage 1: Don’t learn German

Dear diary, guess who moved to Germany? Me! Yeah, crazy, right? It’s a great adventure. Berlin is just amazing. I was born to live here. I can feel it in my soul. I have this super sweet WG down by Sonnenalleye, with this crazy Spanish artist guy and this lesbian couple from Canada who have a dog and a parrot, and one has a tattoo of a wolf on her butt. Can you imagine that? I know.

Yeah, I’m so happy to be out of my home country. Boring! That place was just stifling my creativity. Everyone should travel more.

Anyway, the only problem is people speak German here. It’s really hard to understand them. I’m not learning that shit. Did you see what Mark Twain said about the terrible German language? He said it was pretty much the hardest language in the world to learn. I don’t have time for that. I’ve got this big art show thing coming up. It’s probably easier to learn Chinese than stupid German. In German they even have this thing with genders. Did you know that, diary? Der, Die, Das. Totally crazy. I’m probably not going to stay very long. A few months max, I reckon. No need to learn it.

Stage 2: Don’t learn German

It’s been a year already, diary? Unglaublich. See how I said unglaublich there? You can have that one for free, Bitte schön. Yeah, can’t believe I stayed a whole year already. It’s been wild. I love Germany. Especially the beer and the six streets of Neukölln that I know. I think I’ll live here forever. But I’m still not learning German. I mean, I already learnt quite a lot. I get by. Basic conversation. In bakeries, sorry, I mean die Bäckerei’s!

Anyway, I’m going to leave pretty soon, I’m sure. A few more months. I don’t really need German, you know? I work in English. When I work. I have many German friends. Pretty much all my friends are German. We even speak a few words of German together, manchmal.

Stage 3: Don’t learn German

Two years already, diary? Unglaublich. See how I said unglaublich there? You can have that one total kostenlos, Bitte schön. Yeah, can’t believe I stayed two years already. It’s been wild. I love the Fatherland. Especially the beer and the eight streets of Neukölln/Kreuzkölln that I know. But, I’ve still not really learnt German. I work only in English, you know.

I can speak “enough.” Just the other day someone confused me for a German, when my back was turned to them, and I hadn’t said anything, and I was wearing a hat. Yeah, happens all the time. Anyway, I’m going to leave pretty soon, I’m sure, a few more months, max. I love it here, but I’m just getting tired of all those new expats coming in and totally ruining the Kiez. Stupid Ausländers, they don’t even, like, try to fit in.

Yeah, I don’t really need German. I speak “enough,” you know? I get by. I mean, I’ve tried. Of course I’ve tried. But every time you speak auf Deutsch, they just reply in English. It’s pretty much impossible to speak German to them. They all just want to practice their English with you. Maybe I should pretend to be Russian.

Stage 4: Don’t learn German

Three years here already? Seemlich Ziemlich Verruckt! See how I said zeimlich Verruckt? Ja, you can have that one total kostenlos, Bitte sehr. I can’t believe I’ve stayed a whole three years already! It’s been a techno-filled blur. If I didn’t have the 8,201 photos of partying I uploaded to Facebook, I’d not remember a thing.

It’s been really wild. I’m thinking about doing a startup now. Yeah, I’m just tired of that whole “arts” scene, you know? Or maybe I’ll try some kind of DJ thing. Or I’ll open a restaurant, maybe something with cakes. I don’t know. Let’s see. Many options.

It did get a bit embarrassing the other day when someone commented on meiner mein meinem Portemonnaie and I reacted angrily because I thought they were talking about my gut. I got a bit fat, or should I say dick (hehe!) on Bier und Wurst. And port can mean, like, fat in English, you know?

My lack of German is getting really peinlich now. I think I’ll start learning it. I probably won’t stay much longer though, a few more months maybe, max. But still, I think I’ll do a course at the Vauxhallschooler Vaulkshallschule Volkshochschule. Foreigners really should make an effort to learn German. No, diary, Volkshochschule is not a place where they make cars. It’s a public-funded college thing, so it’s super cheap, but most of its teachers lost the will to live back in 1973 and now are just going through the motions. It’s just round the corner. I start on Monday. It’s super cheap.

Stage 5: Erste Deutsch Unterricht

Wow, it was awesome. It’s amazing how much I already knew. I guess you just pick it up over the years, you know? Like osmosis oder etwas. The course was good. The instructor didn’t speak a word of English to us, right from the erste Klasse. Bin beeindruckt! So, the beginning class was pretty easy. Names, ages, hobbies, and all that. I can’t wait for class tomorrow! I’m totally nailing this German thing now. I have no idea why I waited so long to get started. I love Sprachen lernen! Ich bin ein Berliner!

Stage 6: Grammar

I hate foreign languages. I hate foreign people. I hate life. But mostly I hate German. The class is okay. I’m one of the worst, which can be super peinlich. I try to do my homework Hausaufgabe, but the class is in the morning. You might not have heard of the morning, diary, since I mention it so infrequently. It’s basically all the things that happen before lunch. I know, crazy that they expect people to do anything before lunch, never mind complete tables of irregular boring verbs.

Anyway, learning Vokabeln was fun, but now all we do is this total langweilig grammar shit. If I hear the words Akkusativ and Dativ one more time I’m going to punch someone in dem Kopf. It’s total sinnlos. The German language is such a dinosaur. Not even one of those good and dynamic dinosaurs like a T-rex, just a shit dinosaur that makes no sense like die Vaterkrautasaurus. I missed class today, for the first time. I had a headache, and I hadn’t done my homework. I’ll totally be back there tomorrow though.

Stage 7: Language no man’s land

I didn’t end up going back to class, diary. I missed a few with that really bad headache, more of a migraine really, a severe one, actually. Then I’d missed so many classes, I just couldn’t really go back because I’d be too far behind. But it’s cool, I’ve got the books and CDs and stuff. I’m totally going to study at home. I’ll start tomorrow. If I just do one hour a day, I’ll be fluent in six months.

Author’s note: This stage can last for several years, and it’s only when the weight of public shame becomes so great, when sheer embarrassment has crushed all your excuses into dust and you’ve finally accepted you aren’t going to leave Germany in a few months, that in fact Germany is your home — only after all that can you pass through to the final stage of German language learning.

Stage 8: Endlich Fließend

Heute habe ich endlich mit Englisch Sprechen stopped aufgehört. Egal, wer mit mir redet, jetzt antworte ich nur auf Deutsch. Ist peinlich, ich hasse es, niemand kann ein interessant Gesprach mit mir habe, weil ich wie ein Kind mit zwei Jahre rede, aber egal, ich muss das machen. Da gibt keine shortcuts Abkürzung, keine mehr excuses Entschuldingungen. Ich möchte hier bleiben. Ich möchte Deutsch sprechen. Ich möchte mit dir Familie von meine Partner sprechen. Es wird nicht einfach sein. Aber, enough genug ist genug.

Author’s note: This is the final stage. You must refuse to speak English with everyone. Even English people. That’s it. Once this realisation is made, it’s just a matter of repeated effort, refusal to speak anything but German, and the normal passing of time before you’ll reach fluency, or at least the working semi-fluency you’ll never really need to improve upon.

This post originally appeared at Venture Village and is republished here with permission.

Syrian refugees in Jordan [pics]

Not since the horror of World War II has the planet seen a forced migration the size of the Syrian diaspora that began three years ago when seemingly innocuous government protests escalated into a bloody civil war. The subsequent implosion has left 9 million Syrians displaced, 2.5 million of whom have fled across borders into neighboring countries as refugees.

The Kingdom of Jordan has taken in over 600,000 Syrians since the fighting began, struggling to house the unanticipated numbers of new arrivals in refugee camps whose resources have been pushed well beyond their limits. An estimated 80% of the Syrians in Jordan have hunkered down outside camps, fending for themselves to avoid the poor conditions and detainment associated with camp life. The tradeoff: Outside the camps, Syrians have less access to the aid on offer and are more susceptible to the unsavory forces attracted to those in positions of desperate need.

Wherever Syrians have found themselves, in addition to having lost their homes and their livelihoods, they’re saddled with the emotional traumas inflicted by witnessing their communities destroyed and families and friends senselessly murdered. While proving challenging beyond all initial estimates, the difficulty of providing logistical solutions to their influx will pale in comparison to the greater long-term task of healing these deep wounds.

This post was shot by Oculi collective photographer David Maurice Smith, documenting Syrian refugees in Jordan and looking at those living outside camps in the urban areas near the Syrian border.

1


Soud Hazza was a sheep herder in Syria before fleeing to Jordan as a refugee when fighting found its way to his home village of Maqsar Hisan. Everything he left behind is confirmed to be destroyed, and now as a refugee he's forced to sit idle, legally prohibited from working. (March 30, 2014. David Maurice Smith/Oculi.)





2


An elderly Syrian woman, face marked with traditional tattoos, looks out the widow of a rented house in Azraq, Jordan. (March 29, 2014. David Maurice Smith/Oculi.)





3


The central mosque in Azraq, Jordan. For many of the male Syrian refugees now calling Azraq home the mosque has provided a needed feeling of connection and stability. (March 29, 2014. David Maurice Smith/Oculi.)












4


A man reads from the Koran at the central mosque in Azraq, Jordan. (March 31, 2014. David Maurice Smith/Oculi.)





5


Hammoud Banikhaled greets his four-year-old daughter Ghazal at the door to their rented house in Azraq. A farmer, Hammoud fled his rural village of Masqar Hisan with his wife, mother, and five children, leaving behind his eldest son, who'd been imprisoned by the regime. (March 29, 2014. David Maurice Smith/Oculi.)





6


Six-year-old Imran Banikhaled pauses during play outside his family's rented home in Azraq. Since arriving as a refugee in Jordan, Imran hasn't been able to go to school and has taken a job working in a local shop. (David Maurice Smith/Oculi.)





7


Hammoud Banikhaled rouses his six-year-old son Imran early in the morning to go to his job working in a local shop. All the men in the family have found temporary jobs to help support the family. (March 30, 2014. David Maurice Smith/Oculi.)





8


Six-year-old Imran Banikhaled at his job in a local shop in Azraq. (David Maurice Smith/Oculi.)





9


The town of Azraq, Jordan, a name translating to “blue” in Arabic (a reference to the abundant water pools that used to grace the region). Because of its location near the Za’atari refugee camp and the Syrian border, Azraq's become a destination for many Syrian refugees. (March 31, 2014. David Maurice Smith/Oculi.)












10


Syrian girls play games on their street in Azraq, Jordan. (April 1, 2014. David Maurice Smith/Ocui.)





11


Syrian refugees living in the Jordanian town of Azraq. (March 31, 2014. David Maurice Smith/Oculi.)





12


Sixteen-year-old Omar Banikhaled works as a renderer to help support his family in Azraq, Jordan. As a refugee Omar's not legally allowed to work and risks being sent back to Syria if caught. However, like so many other men, the immediate need of helping provide for his family outweighs the risks involved. (March 31, 2014. David Maurice Smith/Oculi.)





13


Young Syrian refugees play soccer at dusk in Azraq, Jordan. (April 1, 2014. David Maurice Smith/Oculi.)





14


Awad Alsayaleh lives in a canvas tent with his wife and six young children in the town of Azrtaq, Jordan, after fleeing their village near Homs almost a year ago. They spent several weeks moving from one town to the next in Syria, evading the regime’s bombing campaigns, until making their way to the border with Jordan. (March 31, 2014. David Maurice Smith/Oculi.)





15


Sharkieh Hamada (seated in black, surrounded by family members) describes the harrowing journey that brought her husband and six children to live in Azraq after fleeing for their lives from their home in Homs, Syria. (March 31, 2014. David Maurice Smith/Oculi.)












16


Faten Khdairi, surrounded by five of her six children in the temporary shelter they've erected on a plot of land they rent in Azraq, Jordan. The family fled Homs over a year ago after their home was bombed on two separate occasions. (April 4, 2014. David Maurice Smith/Oculi.)





17


Ghusn Khdairi cleans dishes in the kitchen area of the temporary shelter her family rents in Mafraq, Jordan. (April 4, 2014. David Maurice Smith/Oculi.)





18


Syrian refugees living outside of camps in Mafraq, Jordan.





19


Sameeh Faware with his four sons in the modified shopfront they call home in the Hei Al Hussein neighborhood of Mafraq, Jordan. Sameeh and his boys left Syria with nothing but the clothes on their backs during a bombing campaign on their neighborhood in Homs. For the boys, life has been hard; prior to their escape their mother was found dead, presumably the victim of a regime sniper. (April 5, 2014. David Maurice Smith/Oculi.)





20


Sameeh Faware (right) with one of his four sons (left) and a neighbor on their street in the Hei Al Hussein neighborhood of Mafraq, Jordan. (April 5, 2014. David Maurice Smith/Oculi.)





21


Faten Khdairi feeds the youngest of her six children in the temporary shelter they've erected on a plot of land they rent in Azraq, Jordan. (April 4, 2014. David Maurice Smith/Oculi.)





22


A Syrian family gathers outside the shopfront they're renting in the neighborhood of Al Hussein, Mafraq, Jordan. (April 6, 2014. David Maurice Smith/Oculi.)





23


A young Syrian girl pauses in the doorway of the empty shopfront her family has rented on a busy street in Mafraq, Jordan. With over 600,000 refugees flooding into the country, many desperate Syrians are renting rooftops, storage containers, shopfronts, and sheds from Jordanians eager to benefit from the increasing rents associated with the growing demands. (April 6, 2014. David Maurice Smith/Oculi.)

Photography and text by David Maurice Smith. This post was originally published at The Huffington Post and is reprinted here with permission.

30 best views in US national parks

HOW WOULD YOU go about designating, managing, and protecting the prime wilderness areas of the United States, a country of 3.8 million square miles and many of the most spectacular natural features in the world? Despite the enormity of the task, the US National Park Service has done a phenomenal job.

Americans and those who visit the US from abroad have access to 59 different national parks, whose characteristics and opportunities, taken together, are more diverse than those of anywhere else in the world. From the frigid peaks of Gates of the Arctic’s Brooks Range, to the subtropical wetlands of Florida’s Everglades. From the below-sea-level simmer of California’s Death Valley, to the mist lifting off the ridges of Shenandoah in Virginia. From glaciers to mangroves to waterfalls to canyons to towering forests — if you visited all 59 of America’s national parks, you would have a pretty thorough understanding of our planet’s geology and ecology.

Many of these park names will be familiar to you. Some you may be hearing for the first time. But whether they see 10 million annual visitors (Great Smoky) or barely a 1,000 (Kobuk Valley), all are worth a trip. Here’s some inspiration to get you planning.

1

Wrangell–St. Elias National Park
The largest park in the country, Wrangell-St. Elias lies in a corner of southern Alaska, adjacent to the Yukon's Kluane National Park just over the border. Its 20,000 square miles make for a whole lot of potential exploration; pictured above is a hiker on the Skookum Volcano Trail.

Photo: Wrangell-St. Elias National Park & Preserve





2

Canyonlands National Park
Just south of Moab and the more recognized Arches National Park, Canyonlands also features some impressive sandstone arch formations, as well as canyons of monumental scale, carved by the Colorado and Green Rivers.

Photo: John Fowler





3

Shenandoah National Park
Encompassing a long strip of both the Blue Ridge Mountains and adjacent Shenandoah River Valley, this Virginia national park gets super popular during the fall, when leaf peepers arrive to complete the 105-mile Skyline Drive.

Photo: Brandon Atkinson












4

Yellowstone National Park
The world's first national park is also one of its most unique and well visited. The 3,400 square miles of Yellowstone hold geysers, mountain lakes, forests, river canyons, waterfalls, and many threatened species. Above is an aerial shot of the Grand Prismatic Spring, the third-largest hot spring in the world.

Photo: Wikimedia Commons





5

Congaree National Park
I had honestly never heard of this park prior to researching this piece, but after reading up, I totally want to go. Congaree protects a vast tract of marshy hardwood forest along the river of the same name just southeast of Columbia, South Carolina. Its old-growth cypress trees are some of the tallest in the American East.

Photo: Hunter Desportes





6

Death Valley National Park
Low and hot—Death Valley is home to both the lowest elevations and hottest temperatures in the US. But the landscape in this part of California is actually incredibly diverse, ranging from saltpans like the Devil's Racetrack, pictured above, to snow-capped mountains reaching 11,000ft.

Photo: Chao Yen





7

Bryce Canyon National Park
Bryce sits in southern Utah and features a massive collection of natural amphitheaters covered in rock formations known as hoodoos. Find this particular view on the Queen Mary trail.

Photo: Srikanth Jandhyala





8

Great Smoky Mountains National Park
Great Smoky is surrounded by kitschy tourist towns and is the most visited national park, thanks to its location near the East Coast and free admission. Still, once you're there, you can see scenes like this.

Photo: Red Wolf





9

Grand Teton National Park
Named for the largest of its three signature peaks, Grand Teton National Park also contains lakes, forest, and a section of the Snake River. It sits just south of Yellowstone in western Wyoming, and together they represent one of the largest protected ecosystems in the world.

Photo: Sandeep Pawar












10

Olympic National Park
Covering nearly a million acres on the peninsula of the same name in northwestern Washington, the terrain of this park is super variable, ranging from Pacific coastline to alpine peaks to temperate rainforest.

Photo: Lucia Sanchez





11

Great Sand Dunes National Park
One of the country's newest national parks (designated in 2004), Great Sand Dunes lies in the San Luis Valley of southern Colorado. Featuring the tallest sand dunes on the continent, backed by multiple 13,000ft mountains, this is also one of the few places in the country where you can try sandboarding.

Photo: Larry Lamsa





12

Yosemite National Park
The central draw of Yosemite is the 7-square-mile valley of the same name, with its glacially carved peaks, sequoia groves, and spectacular waterfalls. To beat the crowds, get out and explore some of the other areas in this massive park in the Eastern Sierras.

Photo: Adam Selwood





13

Arches National Park
This aptly named park in eastern Utah, just north of Moab, is home to some 2,000 sandstone arches that come in all shapes and sizes. Above is one of the most photographed, Delicate Arch.

Photo: Joe Parks





14

Glacier Bay National Park
There are no roads leading to this park in southeastern Alaska, so your choices for getting there are: by raft via the Tatshenshini and Alsek Rivers (from Canada), by plane (usually out of Juneau), or, most commonly, by cruise ship.

Photo: Christopher Michel





15

Kings Canyon National Park
Like Sequoia National Park next door, Kings Canyon is home to some seriously massive trees. Seen above is a stout ponderosa pine on the Bubbs Creek Trail.

Photo: Miguel Vieira












16

Big Bend National Park
Expansive desert plains, 7,800ft mountains, and high Rio Grande canyons (Santa Elena Canyon shown above) define Big Bend National Park in western Texas. It's also distinguished as an International Dark Sky Park, marking it a great place for stargazing.

Photo: Robert Hensley





17

Denali National Park
As far as views from the visitor center go, this one is pretty spectacular. The 6 million acres of Denali, in central Alaska, include the highest section of the Alaska Range (with the peak that gives the park its name), glaciers, river valleys, and abundant wildlife such as grizzly bears, caribou, gray wolves, golden eagles, wolverines, and Dall sheep.

Photo: Srikanth Jandhyala





18

Everglades National Park
Preserving one of the most significant wetland ecosystems anywhere in the world, southern Florida's Everglades protect rare species such as the Florida panther and American crocodile. The water in the park is actually an enormous river that runs from Lake Okeechobee to Florida Bay at a speed of about a quarter mile per day.

Photo: Chris Foster





19

Gates of the Arctic National Park
As its name suggests, this is the northernmost park in the US, and is also one of the largest. Its predominant geographic feature is the Brooks Range. With zero road access, you have to hike or fly in, but once there, you've got pretty much an endless list of wilderness hiking and camping options.

Photo: Paxson Woelber





20

Grand Canyon National Park
For the past several million years, the Colorado River has been slowly but steadily grinding its way through the rock of the Colorado Plateau in northern Arizona. Reaching a width of 18 miles and a depth of 6,000 feet, the Grand Canyon is on a scale of few other places on Earth.

Photo: faungg's photo





21

North Cascades National Park
Often overshadowed by Rainier, its sibling park to the south, North Cascades is a great place to go for smaller crowds and protects some stunning mountain wilderness. Pictured above is Mount Shuksan.

Photo: Michal Osmenda





22

Petrified Forest National Park
The main feature of Petrified Forest National Park, in eastern Arizona, is pretty clear. Fossilized logs (like the one seen above) and other organisms dot a landscape of badlands and desert colors.

Photo: Petrified Forest





23

Acadia National Park
Acadia is the oldest national park in the East and covers the majority of Downeast Maine's Mount Desert Island and a few surrounding areas. Pictured above is the Bass Harbor Lighthouse, on the southern tip of MDI.

Photo: Chris Potako





24

Zion National Park
The 15-mile Zion Canyon, cut over millennia by the North Fork of the Virgin River, is the main feature of this park in southwestern Utah. Hit the Canyon Overlook trail to attain this incredible view.

Photo: Todd Petrie





25

Glacier National Park
Northern Montana's Glacier National Park is over a million acres in size and contains multiple peaks over 10,000 feet, along with a dwindling number of glaciers. The only public vehicular access is via the Going-to-the-Sun road which, depending on the past winter's snowfall, is usually only open a few months out of the year.

Photo: Jeff P





26

Redwood National Park
The backbone of a much larger system of federal and state park land charged with preserving the coast redwood, Redwood National Park lies in northern California and is home to many of the tallest trees on Earth. While the exact locations of the most titanic redwoods are kept secret, many groves are easily accessible, particularly those along the Avenue of the Giants in Humboldt Redwoods State Park.

Photo: Krishna Santhanam





27

Sequoia National Park
Named for the largest tree species in the world, Sequoia is located in California's Sierra Nevada and is directly adjacent to Kings Canyon National Park. General Sherman, a giant sequoia whose bole volume of 1,487 cubic meters makes it the largest living tree on Earth, is a centerpiece of the park. Pictured above is the fallen Buttress Tree.

Photo: Tobias





28

Joshua Tree National Park
The iconic Joshua tree gives this desert park in southeastern California its name. Fun fact: It's larger than the state of Rhode Island.

Photo: Dan Eckert





29

Mammoth Cave National Park
True to its name, Kentucky's Mammoth Cave protects the longest known cave system on Earth, with 400 miles of explored passageways. Visitors can choose from a variety of guided tours.

Photo: Peter Rivera





30

Rocky Mountain National Park
In the Front Range of Colorado's Rocky Mountains, northwest of Denver, this park is one of the best for easily accessible overnight camping trips, with 359 miles of trail and dozens of backcountry camping areas.

Photo: Steven Bratman

This post is proudly produced in partnership with Brand USA, with whom Matador is currently working to produce a series of monumental videos showcasing the best of the US national park system. Stay tuned for more.

How to piss off a Brazilian soccer fan

Photo: Roland Moriz

Prefere em português? Tudo bem! Leia e comente esse mesmo artigo na MatadorBrasil. Aproveite e nos siga no facebook.
Remind us of the maracanazo.

On a Sunday afternoon in 1950, Uruguay came from behind to win against Brazil in the World Cup’s final match, leaving the 200,000 fans overcrowding the Maracanã stadium absolutely mute. The maracanazo (something like “the Maracanã stadium blow”), considered the worst disaster in soccer history, took shape eleven minutes before the end of the game, with a goal scored by Ghiggia, who later declared: “The silence was such that, if a fly passed by, we’d hear its buzz.”

The mere recollection of the episode is enough to kill the mood of anyone who experienced the 1950 World Cup, and its retelling gives goosebumps to those who were born after.

Praise Galvão Bueno.

Galvão Bueno, the most famous voice in Brazilian TV, has narrated eight World Cups (including two won by Brazil), the Formula One titles conquered by Ayrton Senna, and some Olympic games. And, after making several live blunders, he gave rise to a social-media movement called Cala boca, Galvão (“Shut up, Galvão”), forcing his TV channel to lower the ambient volume inside soccer stadiums to muffle the sounds of the crowds swearing at him in chorus.

It’s impossible for any Brazilian soccer fan not to think of Galvão Bueno when a World Cup approaches. But this is about to change. Galvão’s already announced his intention to retire from World Cup commentating after 2014 in Brazil. The crowd cheers.

Employ some Argentinian gamesmanship.

This strategy’s been working for decades. If you speak Spanish, wear the blue and white jersey, and start faking an injury or provoking any of our players, we’ll be pissed. And our team as well.

Tell us soccer is corrupt and the results are fixed.

At the 1998 World Cup, Brazil’s best player, Ronaldo, fell mysteriously sick before the final and couldn’t play. Brazil lost the match to France, igniting conspiracies. In the 2002 World Cup final, it was Ronaldo’s deftness (and two howlers by German goalkeeper Oliver Kahn), that won the world title for Brazil.

Three years later, 11 games in Brazil’s national tournament were annulled due to a bribery scandal involving referees. The trophy was taken from the hands of the actual champions and given to Corinthians, a soccer club that built a private stadium with taxpayer money intended to fund the World Cup.

The Brazilian soccer fan has seen all of this. And more. But don’t you dare say our beautiful game is just make-believe. After all, there’s hardly any money flowing behind the scenes…

Look down on our national league because we send all our young talent to Europe.

Yes, we export our jewels early. Ronaldinho went to Europe when he was 20. Robinho, when he was 19. Pato, 17. But it’s also true that the Brasileirão, our league, has been bringing back many of these idols lately: Ronaldo, Ronaldinho, Adriano, Robinho, and Pato are just a few examples of stars who returned from Europe to play in their homeland.

At the end of the day, the Brasileirão is commonly said to be the most challenging tournament in the world and therefore the most exciting to watch, and the one which least deserves to be looked down on.

Argue about which is the strongest regional rivalry in the country.

Gaúchos (people from Brazil’s southernmost state) will defend their local derby. Corinthians’ fans will mention their rivalry with neighboring Palmeiras. Cariocas (people from the state of Rio de Janeiro) will refuse to speak about anything besides FlaFlu, their famous regional derby.

As my grandma would say, there’s a Brazilian triad you should never argue about: politics, religion, and soccer.

Defend the referee, the linesman, or, even worse, the lineswoman.

In Brazil, soccer referees are universally seen as evil people. The linesmen, in their lonely and cursed task of applying the offside rule and disallowing goals, are declared guilty for almost any defeat.

The situation is even worse for lineswomen. Lineswomen were already being harangued and provoked before Ana Paula Oliveira, the most famous lineswoman in the country, posed nude for Playboy after being withdrawn from the national league for mistakes she committed. After this episode, noise-canceling headphones are definitely recommended for lineswomen on duty.

Maintain the same coach for a few years.

Brazil’s national team has never had the same coach for more than six years. For a club, retaining a coach for more than two is cause for celebration — probably not a long-lasting one. A bad spell always comes, the responsibility falls on the coach’s shoulders, the club brass yields to the pressure of the fans, and the cycle goes on.

Get litigious.

In 2013, after a controversial court ruling secured them a spot in the first division, Fluminense (a popular soccer team from Rio) became a target of ire for fans of all the other clubs in the country. Portuguesa, the team that was relegated to second division in Fluminense’s place, received support and sympathy while struggling, unsuccessfully, to repeal the court’s decision to deduct points from the club.

Later, Portuguesa signed a sponsorship deal with a carpet company (“big carpet” is the Brazilian expression for dubious court appeals executed by soccer teams). Then, they threatened to play the second division wearing Fluminense colors, and team management considered quitting the championship all together. Portuguesa is just one example. Every Brazilian soccer fan hates court actions (the “big carpet”). Kind of the way Europeans hate Brazilian divers who play in their leagues.

Forbid the sale of beer inside stadiums.

I was too young to pay much attention when the ban on alcohol sales in Brazilian soccer stadiums went into effect. But, judging by the enthusiastic way news of the ban’s reversal has been received, I’m pretty certain fans must have been truly irate when the prohibition was made.

Would you swim in Jellyfish Lake?

I made the mistake, a few years back in Belize, of scuba diving without a wetsuit. I wasn’t seriously hurt or anything, but I came out of the water with dozens of stings from tiny little jellyfish. Ever since then, I’ve given jellyfish a wide berth.

So hats off to Nana Trongratanawong, who took this GoPro video of her freediving in Jellyfish Lake in Palau wearing just a bikini. These jellyfish are, in fact, stinging jellyfish, but their sting is relatively mild, and is usually only noticeable on sensitive areas of the body. Still, I’d be wearing a wetsuit if it were me.

If you’re particularly bold and want to give something like this a try, you’ll need to travel to Eil Malk Island in Palau. Eil Malk sits in a rocky, mostly uninhabited archipelago, and this lake is one of several similar marine lakes. Jellyfish Lake is the only one open to tourists, however, and only if you’re planning on snorkeling: below 15 meters are high levels of hydrogen sulfide, which is toxic.

10 World Cup blooper moments

Mwepu Ilunga’s reverse free kick (1974)

During a Group 2 game against Brazil, Zaire defender Mwepu Ilunga decided to take matters into his own hands on defense during a free kick. Ilunga, part of Zaire’s wall, took off in a sprint and blasted the ball away before the free kick was taken, confusing both the players and spectators alike. The move earned him a yellow card, though Ilunga later stated that he had hoped to earn a red card in protest of the team’s players not being paid.

Andrés Escobar’s an own goal (1994)

In a match against the United States, Andrés Escobar extended himself in an attempt to deflect a pass from John Harkes. Unfortunately, the ball was deflected past the Colombian goalie and into the back of the net. Sadly, this blooper turned absolutely tragic when Escobar, now the subject of several documentaries, was killed upon his return to Colombia. A bodyguard for members of a Colombian cartel, Humberto Castro Muñoz, was charged with Escobar’s murder.

Roberto Baggio’s penalty kick (1994)

Roberto Baggio is considered one of the greatest players of all time, but his famous penalty kick during the 1994 World Cup final against Brazil is a blemish on his career that few Italians have forgotten. Baggio aimed to place the ball in the direct center of the goal, knowing Taffarel would dive in one direction or the other. Taffarel dove, but Baggio’s shot sailed way over the crossbar, costing Italy the cup.

Rene Higuita vs. Roger Milla (1990)

Known for his showmanship and risky style of play, Colombian goalie Rene “El Loco” Higuita was stripped of the ball 35 yards from his own goal by Roger Milla during a World Cup match against Cameroon. Milla left “El Loco” in the dust and scored on an open goal. For those wondering what Higuita was doing so far from his goal, well, that was one of his trademarks.

Diana Ross’s penalty kick (1994)

Less heartbreaking than the other moments on this list, Diana Ross performed during the 1994 World Cup opening ceremony in Chicago. The performance was meant to be completed with a penalty shot at a makeshift goal, which would split in two as the ball ripped into the back of the net. She missed the shot. The goal still split in two, making it all the more awkward.

Rivaldo’s high drama (2002)

Players are known for taking dives and putting on performances worthy of Academy Awards during the World Cup. Rivaldo made sure no one would forget his. Upon being struck in the knee by a soccer ball kicked in his direction by Turkish player Hakan Unsal, Rivaldo gripped his face, threw himself to the ground with force, and began writhing “in pain.” The Oscar-worthy acting performance earned Unsal a red card. “It doesn’t matter where the ball hit me. It was the intent that mattered,” said Rivaldo.

Josip Simunic’s third yellow (2006)

Typically, two yellow cards warrant a red card, upon which a player is removed from the game. Graham Poll, the officiating referee during a 2006 World Cup match between Croatia and Australia, forgot about this rule. Poll penalized Josip Simunic with two yellow cards, but for some reason allowed the Croatian player to continue. It was only after a third yellow that Poll pulled out the red as well, sending the player off the field.

Jimmy Greaves’ new friend (1962)

During a 1962 match between Brazil and England, a stray dog ran onto the field. The dog evaded every player’s attempt to catch it until Greaves was able to do so by getting down on his knees and calling the dog over. He was rewarded for his valiant efforts with dog urine all over his jersey. England lost the match, too.

Yakubu’s one-in-a-million miss (2010)

Nigerian striker Yakubu had a chance at an open goal during a 2010 World Cup match against South Korea. Mere yards away from the goal, he received a pass (which the goalie unsuccessfully attempted to stop) and was left with an open net in front of him. His foot met the ball, which veered just left of the goalpost. Yakubu redeemed himself by scoring on a penalty kick later in the game, but the final score of 2-2 was not enough for Nigeria to advance past the group stages.

Robert Green’s fumble (2010)

Robert Green was selected last minute as England’s goalkeeper for the 2010 World Cup opening match against the United States. In the 40th minute, American Clint Dempsey fired off an on-goal shot, which appeared a relatively straightforward stop for Green. But the ball bounced in and out of his hands, rolling into the goal. All he could do was watch. The match ended in a draw, and not long after, Green was dropped from the team.

Watch: A gorgeous video of Indonesia

Indonesia has never been on my travel radar. For whatever reason, I’ve only ever wanted to go to the countries around it, like Malaysia, Papua New Guinea, Australia, or the Pacific island nations.

But a pair of videos on Vimeo have completely turned that around for me. One of them, showing a filmmaker’s surf trip in Indonesia, I’ve already written about, but this week, I stumbled across a new video by filmmaker Nhi Dang, and it looks incredible.

As far as I can tell from the two videos, the Indonesian archipelago may well be one of the most beautiful places on Earth.

A Father’s Day open letter

Photo: Christos Loufopoulos

To my Dad, with immense gratitude for how you support my travels.

Dad,

When I was little, I didn’t know what I wanted to be or do when I grew up, but I knew I wouldn’t, couldn’t be like you. You, with your 70-hour workweeks driving trucks, reporting to a boss you couldn’t stand. Your doing Every. Single. Thing with “elbow grease,” when all I wanted to do was slide by and find the easy, fun way out of a project. Your chosen lifestyle seemed like hell, and I didn’t understand you. I could only focus on the chasm of glaring differences that divided us.

On Sundays, you’d spend your precious little free time perusing National Geographic magazines, traveling far and wide for an hour or so, if only in your mind. You’d talk about distant lands with conviction and passion, like you actually knew the places you were talking about. It was painfully sad to me, realizing deep down that no matter how much money you and mom managed to save, it would always go to fix the septic tank or to buy me new skis. Never in a million years would you use it to get on a plane to actually experience those foreign lands that attracted you so. That’s another way we were different — everything you did was for the benefit of others. I already knew I was much more selfish than that. I knew as an adult I’d more likely say to hell with the septic tank and take off on the first flight to a place I couldn’t pronounce, and I felt like an outsider in our family because of that.

Living my dreams full on, following my heart, is my gift to you.

Our family vacations pissed me off, and I never told you. I didn’t want to go eat fudge yet again at Mackinaw Island. I didn’t want to go stand in three-hour lines in the scorching sun for the rides at Cedar Point, even though I logically understood that these were the vacations that were possible, time-wise, comfort-wise, and money-wise, for our family as a whole. I should’ve been grateful for these trips, but instead I was really mad at you that we couldn’t go dogsledding together in Siberia. Or spend the night under the stars in the Sahara. Or drink some interesting ‘voodoo juice’ together deep in the Amazon. I blamed your blue-collar job and your put-responsibilities-first attitude for my inability to travel how I wanted. Really, I didn’t get it. I didn’t get at the time that anything I sincerely wanted and actually voiced, no matter how grandiose, you would have bent over backwards trying to make happen.

It’s taken me a while, Dad, to realize that even though you’ve never been out of the country, you of all people made me the traveler I am today. In high school when I wanted an exchange student (I think at the time I wanted her almost like a pet, nothing more than something exotic to play with, to distract myself with), you instead made Sandra family. You took every opportunity to get to know her, to make food with her, to talk, laugh, and communicate with her family as though they were long-lost friends of ours. You took such genuine interest in getting to know her culture, and I saw how deeply you were able to connect with her. For the first time, I was able to admit to myself that you inspired me. You had a skill I knew I wanted to learn.

I know you had such high hopes for me, your National Honor Society golden student, signed up for the Air Force Academy. (I’m still laughing at the ridiculousness of the idea of hippie me, there, flying a fighter jet. Wtf?) Only I came home from school one day to tell you I called the Academy. I told them that instead of flying their planes, I intended to road trip solo, camping my way across the US. Instead of raging with disappointment in me, which I totally knew was well within the range of possible outcomes, you took me to MC Sporting Goods to look at tents. If your daughter was going to say fuck everything to camp, of all things, then dammit, she’d be doing so in the best tent you could afford! I take that lesson with me now, with my own kids. If my daughter wants to be a surfer, so be it. No matter that we live in the middle of the Andes. I’ll get that girl on a surfboard no matter what, because thanks to you I know how wonderful it feels to have dreams be supported.

When I realized that being a suburban soccer mom was not for me and bought one-way tickets for me and my family to Argentina (not knowing Spanish, not ever having been there, and not having a plan), you had the right to be mad. I was taking your beloved grandkids very, very far from you, and for what? A whim? But do you remember what you told me as you brought my luggage out to the car, when you were going to drive us to the airport? You stopped me in the stairwell, our last moments alone. You got choked up. You said one simple thing before your tears started to fall: “You’re doing something I never had the balls to do.” And I couldn’t stop my own tears for most of the four-hour car ride. Those words guide me today. I made a decision at that very moment to live, all balls out. Not just for me, but for you. Because you lived your entire life doing what you felt was best to support me and the rest of the family. It’s the least I could do in return. Living my dreams full on, following my heart, is my gift to you.

You get me at my core. You have the wanderlust deep inside.

It couldn’t have been more than a week later, when I Skyped you the first time from Argentina, when I saw you’d already traded your favorite University of Michigan “Go Blue” shirt for one that instead said “Vamos Azul!” I told you how dorky it was, but I actually loved it. I knew you wore it just hoping, hoping, that some Latino somewhere would stop to chat with you, and it would give you the opportunity to tell them all about your daughter who was living in Argentina. Your pride warmed my heart, and I realized that even though you were thousands of miles away, we were in this move together.

After all these years, I realize even though when I was younger I wanted to focus on our differences, you get me at my core. You have the wanderlust deep inside. You feel the magnetic attraction to the exotic, to the unknown. You have the traveler’s spirit. When I had to return to the US to go through my ugly divorce, you gifted me, of all seemingly random things, Greek cooking lessons to cheer me up. It was perfect. You understood intuitively that my world would feel small while in your conservative Midwest town, that I’d want a foreign fix. We watched endless Anthony Bourdain reruns together, and I loved pointing out to you the places I’d been to. I actually felt much more accomplished in your eyes in those moments than had I turned out to be that fighter pilot. And in custody court, you stuck up for me, even though it could’ve been all too easy for you to try to convince the judge to keep your grandkids in the US. You said your grandkids would be healthiest when their mom was the happiest, and you knew I’d be happiest living like a free little bird in my mountain refuge on the other end of the world. That selfless support meant the world to me.

Sometimes I’m so happy I feel guilty. Sometimes I don’t even share with you some of the places I’m at while working as a travel writer because I know you deserve being there more than I do. You worked your ass off your whole life and never once got to leave the country. I want you to know I order scotch when I do restaurant reviews, even though I hate it, because they’ll give me “the good shit” that you’d appreciate and should be drinking. I order steak even when I really want hummus or quinoa, because it’s a world-class steak that you should get to eat that night. I go fly fishing, just because it seems like something you’d really like. I climb mountains sometimes for nothing more than to make you proud of raising the kind of daughter who climbs big mountains.

I know more times than not having a daughter like me is probably any parent’s nightmare. I do everything most parents don’t want their kids to do. I hitchhike alone. I sleep on strangers’ couches. I don’t check in nearly as much as I should. I walk myself home alone at night. I never know where my phone is. But rest easy knowing you raised me right. You instilled in me a good base of common sense (whether that may be apparent or not). The ability to stand up for myself. To see through people’s bullshit. And the feistiness to unflinchingly deck anyone along the way who may try to mess with your baby girl. I “keep my nose clean” (although until this last year I always thought that expression was just a way of advising me to not snort coke).

You’ve taught me to be able to shoot the shit with anyone, anywhere. You’ve taught me, when I do luxury hotel reviews in some pretty pretentious places, to keep it real. (“What, these people think their shit don’t stink?”) You’ve taught me what it means to celebrate people and to value friendships, both old and new, both lasting and fleeting. To be a good guest and an even better host. To have a plan B and a plan C and a plan D, and to know when to say screw it all, scratch all plans, drink that glass of scotch, and just go with the flow.

On the outside, you’re the antithesis of my ideal travel partner. Your back couldn’t make it one night sleeping on a hostel bed, let alone in a tent. You wouldn’t carry a backpack. Climbing a fence, running to get to the train on time — not likely. You’re a loud, larger-than-life, stereotypical gringo with too much luggage and probably too many scheduled plans. But the older I get, the more I’d give anything to travel with you, of all people.

While I know your bills at home and your declining health do not make international travel super likely, I have not given up on the idea. You always supported my dreams, and I want to support yours, no matter if we get there when you’re 90. Better late than never. I want to take you to Lithuania, help you find where your parents were born. We’ll eat kugelis and drink trauktinė. I want to take you to hang out with some shamans in the Amazon and be by your side when your mind is blown wide open and you end up giggling for hours at the wonderfulness of it all. I want to take you fishing in Argentina, followed by an asado de la puta madre, getting tipsy with you on malbec until we’re both singing Martin Fierro poems with the gauchos.

And if for some reason it’s not in the deck of cards for us, Daddy-o, I want you to know you’ll have traveled regardless. Your unconditional support constantly ignites my traveling spirit, and I feel your presence and your guidance no matter where in the world I end up. I really do consciously honor you with every adventurous step I take to follow my passion. Our passion. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for having sacrificed some of your own dreams so I could be sure to live out mine with gusto.

8 lessons I learned from a dirt bike

Photo: Fadzly Mubin

1. When you want to do something, dive right in without thinking.

I was waiting tables outside in the East End of Portland when I saw them. Five extremely beautiful women maneuvering a bright purple Yamaha and a sexy black Honda Rebel with an attached sidecar into one parking spot just five feet away from where I stood on the sidewalk. They were laughing and beautifully-sunbleached-hair-tousling as they took off their retro chic helmets and strutted into the restaurant. As the door shut behind them, one man on the patio said what we were all thinking, “DAMN!”

Three weeks later I was hoisting my leg over a 2004 Honda CRF150f that I had tracked down in Auburn, Maine. My toes barely hit the ground and I could feel all 240 pounds of the machine sitting awkwardly underneath me.

“Ya look real cute on her!” offered the man trying to sell me the thing. He was standing on the sidewalk with his big arms crossed over his big chest, wearing a United Steelworkers sweatshirt. His two preteen sons stood silently by his side. “Should we load her up or what?” he asked.

As I shut the truck door and rolled down the window to wave goodbye I heard him yell, “When you’re done with this one, get yourself a Harley!”

2. Learning something new is not easy.

Kick-starting a dirt bike that you can barely sit on is difficult. Kick-starting a dirt bike that has been sitting in a garage all winter is even more difficult.

I definitely cried a little bit. I felt stupid because I was wearing a brand new Honda sweatshirt and I couldn’t even start my Honda that I had withdrawn from my savings account to buy. And I’m 25 years old and can barely afford to shave my legs.

I blamed it on the boots I was wearing (totally unrelated). I jumped way too hard in frustration and the bike fell on me, and pinned me awkwardly against a wheelbarrow, and I had to yell for help.

Basically, I acted like a huge pussy.

But after two days and maybe 267 kicks, I got her started. (Then I cried again because I was pissed it took me that long. And I didn’t even feel like riding anymore.)

3. Don’t confuse things for things that they are not.

Do not confuse a clutch lever for a front brake lever. A clutch lever is never going to be a front brake lever no matter how much you want it to change.

4. Always be prepared.

Get everything you need to give yourself confidence. The triple-certified helmet. The new tires. The extra clutch levers. What’s that kid got on? Fucking badass-looking boots? Get the badass-looking boots.

5. Don’t pay other people to do your dirty work.

Because literally thousands of single teenage boys who haven’t gotten laid yet are on YouTube. And they have spent their quality time making detailed how-to videos on oil changes so you don’t have to walk into a motor sports shop and ask, “What is oil?”

If you’re going to ride a machine, learn how that machine works or it will ride you.

6. Power is a beautiful and addicting thing.

Once you taste a little bit, you’re going to want more. And dirt bikes are a gateway drug.

You can start small, but don’t start too small. If you’re like me, and you can see yourself absolutely killing it on a 1968 Bonneville T120R in a few years, then start on something you can grow into. (Even if it takes you two days to start it and an entire month to get it into third gear.)

7. You are going to fall.

There are two types of people in this world, those who have gone down and those who are going down.

8. Don’t envy a badass. Be a badass.

When I stood on the sidewalk in a mustard-stained white apron and evidence of a keg-explosion splattered all over my chest, I was almost pissed when those women walked by me. Some cynical, bitchy, scared part of me was a little bit angry that women that tragically hip even existed.

So I took a leap. And I can tell you from experience, coveting a 249cc engine in the parking lot is nothing compared to strapping one between your thighs.