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                                                 Sao Paulo, Brazil   
July 8, 2002

After lunch, Luis drives us around in the rain. We cruise around his old hood where he grew up and some shantytowns in the outskirts of Sao Paulo. Like “The City Of God”, they’re all controlled by drug lords and a little suicidal to walk around. An investigative reporter doing a piece on a local drug lord got whacked just the other day while we were still in the Amazon.

We eventually end up back at Jun’s bachelor pad. Jun has a few more days before his Malaysian chinese bride shows up. Tonight will be like a stag with the guys for Jun, his last hurrah before his wife stakes her claims to make an honest dude outta him. After we leave, there will be no more carousing into wee hours of the night at exotic Brazilian strip joints for this brother.

Jun’s working overtime convincing our “goodie two shoe” friend Luis into coming out tonight. My innocent student assistant Mark is cheering him on. Mark’s dying to feast his virgin eyes on some Brazilian G-strings before we head home. I promise I won’t tell his mom when we get back even though she did ask us to keep the lad outta trouble. I don’t make a good babysitter.

After dinner, Cheuk retires to the hotel leaving us to a night of bar hop debauchery. Jun takes us on a Brazilian “Striparama”. He and Mark are like kids at Christmas. Most of the joints Jun took us seem to be Asian hangouts so they weren’t that different from places in Asia, nothing much to write home about. Our last pit stop was more local and colourful… but extremely seedy.

Black Vanilla and her beer are both sitting on my lap again. It’s my birthday nightmare in Tamatave coming back to haunt me. This time around, she tells me she fancies cute little Asian compacts and wants to bear my children. I’m not sure if I should take that as an insult or was she talking about a Honda hatchback. But I keep my cool and continue to humour her. You never know if one of them “Pistol-Pete’s” leaning against the bar happens to be her pimp.

Endless rounds of booze come throughout the evening without asking. Those gals can really put away the booze! I got slapped with a bill like this once in Shanghai. I kept my mouth shut since this is Jun’s and Luis’ town and they should know what they’re doing, but I’m having my doubts. Needless to say the bill came for the night and I’m cleaned out of Brazilian reals. It was either that… get pistol-whipped or join the dead journalist from last week’s headlines. Pick your poison. The girls, of course, move on to the next suckers once they realize we’ve been sucked dry… so much for bearing my children.

On our last day, I wake up horny, sexless… broke and hung over. The sun has set and it’s time to say goodbye. On our way to the airport I stop to shoot the streaming evening traffic and catch one final shot of ghetto kids playing soccer underneath a derelict highway overpass, a bit cliché but a typical Brazilian image. We bid our goodbyes to the gals from Ipanema and caught our long flight home.        


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