Rio De Janeiro Quotes

Remember Rio de Janeiro, the size of God’s hand, sardines fleshed-open at the market, the way I entered you and moved inside? Looking down, is this the kind of density you can live with? What is the slightness of our bodies to stay, to be good at loving a second time? My mouth pretends it is an oar when it lives inside your mouth, but you are far away.

One of the most obvious features that characterizes any technology is its in-betweenness. Suppose Alice lives in Rio de Janeiro, not in Oxford. A hat is a technology between her and the sunshine. A pair of sandals is a technology between her and the hot sand of the beach on which she is walking.

Have you ever taken a good look at a public garbage can in Paris, a paving stone in Rio de Janeiro, or a doorway in Dublin? Trust me -- the man or woman responsible for making those utilitarian objects was creating art.

Malcolm looked as if he wanted nothing more than to flee through the night, winding up in the morning perhaps in Rio de Janeiro or some other far-flung locale. Instead he sighed and resorted to the last bulwark of an Englishman under stress. “Tea?” he suggested.

When I was in London in 2008, I spent a couple hours hanging out at a pub with a couple of blokes who were drinking away the afternoon in preparation for going to that evening's Arsenal game/riot. Take away their Cockney accents, and these working-class guys might as well have been a couple of Bubbas gearing up for the Alabama-Auburn game. They were, in a phrase, British rednecks. And this is who soccer fans are, everywhere in the world except among the college-educated American elite. In Rio or Rome, the soccer fan is a Regular José or a Regular Giuseppe. [...] By contrast, if an American is that kind of Regular Joe, he doesn't watch soccer. He watches the NFL or bass fishing tournaments or Ultimate Fighting. In an American context, avid soccer fandom is almost exclusively located among two groups of people (a) foreigners—God bless 'em—and (b) pretentious yuppie snobs. Which is to say, conservatives don't hate soccer because we hate brown people. We hate soccer because we hate liberals.

Все пак да живееш на границата може и да не е толкова стресиращо. Границата вероятно ти позволява да видиш два различни свята. Може би да си на границата значи да си част и от двата. Може би тръпката на Рио е в това да прескачаш локви и хартиени боклуци, за да видиш зад стената празник на музиката и душата.

It could be Paris. It could be Rio de Janeiro. It could be anywhere but home: someplace, anyplace, disorienting enough to make him notice what he wouldn’t otherwise see. (The medicinal benefits of disorientation can never be overestimated.)

To this day most people still live close to the coastal areas, despite the dramatic decision made in the late 1950s to move the capital (previously Rio de Janeiro) several hundred miles inland to the purpose-built city of Brasilia in an attempt to develop the heart of Brazil.

interactions were valuable ways of accumulating social capital.

There had been three priests, proponents of so-called liberation theology. They had opposed the reactionary tide from Rome. And in all three cases the IEA had done the dirty work for Iwaszkiewicz and his Congregation. Corona, Ortega, and Souza were prominent progressive priests working in marginal dioceses, poor districts of Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paolo. They believed in saving man here on earth, not waiting for the Kingdom of Heaven.

My personal war against the so-called “soccer menace” probably reached its peak in 1993, when I was nearly fired from a college newspaper for suggesting that soccer was the reason thousands of Brazilians are annually killed at Quiet Riot concerts in Rio de Janeiro, a statement that is—admittedly—only half true. A few weeks after the publication of said piece, a petition to have me removed as the newspaper’s sports editor was circulated by a ridiculously vocal campus organization called the Hispanic American Council, prompting an “academic hearing” where I was accused (with absolute seriousness) of libeling Pelé. If memory serves, I think my criticism of soccer and Quiet Riot was somehow taken as latently racist, although—admittedly—I’m not completely positive, as I was intoxicated for most of the monthlong episode. But the bottom line is that I am still willing to die a painful public death, assuming my execution destroys the game of soccer (or—at the very least—convinces people to shut up about it).

Sometimes, she said, she could recognize a place just by the quality of the light. In Lisbon, the light at the end of spring leans madly over the houses, white and humid, and just a little bit salty. In Rio de Janeiro, in the season that the locals instinctively call ‘autumn’, and that the Europeans insist disdainfully is just a figment of their imagination, the light becomes gentler, like a shimmer of silk, sometimes accompanied by a humid grayness, which hangs over the streets, and then sinks down gently into the squares and gardens. In the drenched land of the Pantanal in Mato Grosso, really early in the morning, the blue parrots cross the sky and they shake a clear, slow light from their wings, a light that little by little settles on the waters, grows and spreads and seems to sing. In the forests of Taman Negara in Malaysia, the light is like a liquid, which sticks to your skin, and has a taste and a smell. It’s noisy in Goa, and harsh. In Berlin the sun is always laughing, at least during those moments when it manages to break through the clouds, like in those ecological stickers against nuclear power. Even in the most unlikely skies, Ângela Lúcia is able to discern shines that mustn’t be forgotten; until she visited Scandinavia she’d believed that in that part of the world during the winter months light was nothing but the figment of people’s imagination. But no, the clouds would occasionally light up with great flashes of hope. She said this, and stood up, adopting a dramatic pose: ‘And Egypt? In Cairo? Have you ever been to Cairo?… To the pyramids of Giza?…’ She lifted her hands and declaimed: ‘The light, majestic, falls; so potent, so alive, that it seems to settle on everything like a sort of luminous mist.

O Banco de Portugal é dirigido por Judeus (Ulrich); o «Lisbôa e Açôres» foi fundado por judeus (Mayer); é christão-novo Souto-Mayor fundador do «Banco Colonial Portuguez», do «Banco Portuguez do Brazil», da «Casa Souto-Mayor & C.ª» do Rio de Janeiro, etc.; Henriques Tota, christão-novo, descende do tecelão de sêda Gabriel Henriques Tota condenado por judaísmo em 1750; Vieira de Castro, banqueiro, é christão-novo que ainda hoje conserva a tradição; os Pintos, os Fonsecas, os Santos, os Vianas, os Burnays, todos, pertencem á raça dos judeus que hão conquistado o reino de Portugal!...

The Abominable Snowman has arrived,” he said to Milo. “If I’m not as clean as most abominable snowmen are, it is because I was kidnapped as a child from the slopes of Mount Everest, and taken as a slave to a bordello in Rio de Janeiro, where I have been cleaning the unspeakably filthy toilets for the past fifty years. A visitor to our whipping room there screamed in a transport of agony and ecstasy that there was to be an arts festival in Midland City. I escaped down a rope of sheets taken from a reeking hamper. I have come to Midland City to have myself acknowledged, before I die, as the great artist I believe myself to be.

Unequipped to hold their own in the ferociously competitive world of White America, in which even the language is foreign to them, the Navajos sink ever deeper into the culture of poverty, exhibiting all of the usual and well-known symptoms: squalor, unemployment or irregular and ill-paid employment, broken families, disease, prostitution, crime, alcoholism, lack of education, too many children, apathy and demoralization, and various forms of mental illness, including evangelical Protestantism. Whether in the favelas of Rio de Janeiro, the barrios of Caracas, the ghettos of Newark, the mining towns of West Virginia or the tarpaper villages of Gallup, Flagstaff and Shiprock, it’s the same the world over—one big wretched family sequestered in sullen desperation, pawed over by social workers, kicked around by the cops and prayed over by the missionaries.

MAY I ask you about your experiences as confessor to homosexual people? During the press conference on your return flight from Rio de Janeiro you famously remarked, “Who am I to judge?”           On that occasion I said this: If a person is gay and seeks out the Lord and is willing, who am I to judge that person? I was paraphrasing by heart the Catechism of the Catholic Church where it says that these people should be treated with delicacy and not be marginalized. I am glad that we are talking about “homosexual people” because before all else comes the individual person, in his wholeness and dignity. And people should not be defined only by their sexual tendencies: let us not forget that God loves all his creatures and we are destined to receive his infinite love. I prefer that homosexuals come to confession, that they stay close to the Lord, and that we pray all together. You can advise them to pray, show goodwill, show them the way, and accompany them along it.

Hoje é o último dia do ano. Em todo o mundo que este calendário rege andam as pessoas entretidas a debates consigo mesmas as boas ações que tencionam praticar no ano que entra, jurando que vão ser retas, justas e equânimes, que da sua emendada boca não voltará a sair uma palavra má, uma mentira, uma insidia, ainda que as merecesse o inimigo, claro que é das pessoas vulgar que estamos falando, as outras, as de exceção, as incomuns, regulam-se por razões suas próprias para serem e fazerem o contrário sempre que lhes apetece ou aproveite, essas são as que não se deixam iludir, chegam a rir-se de nós e das boas intenções que mostramos, mas, enfim, vamos aprendendo com a experiencia, logo nos primeiros dias de Janeiro teremos esquecido metade do que havíamos prometido, e, tendo esquecido tanto, não há realmente motivo para cumprir o resto, é como um castelo de cartas, se já lhe faltam as obras superiores, melhor é que caia tudo e se confundam os naipes. Por isso é duvidoso ter-se despedido Cristo da vida com as palavras da escritura, as de Mateus e Marcos, Deus meu, Deus meu, por que me desamparaste, ou as de Lucas, Pai, nas tuas mãos entrego o meu espirito, ou as de João, Tudo está cumprido, o que Cristo disse foi, palavra de honra, qualquer pessoa popular sabe que esta é a verdade, Adeus mundo, cada vez a pior. Mas os deuses de Ricardo Reis são outros, silenciosas entidades que nos olham indiferentes, para quem o mal e o bem são menos que palavras, por as não dizerem eles nunca, e como as diriam, se mesmo entre o bem e o mal não sabem distinguir, indo como nós vamos no rio das coisas, só ditamos. Esta lição nos foi dada para que não nos afadiguemos a jurar novas e melhores intenções para o ano que tem, por elas não nos julgarão os deuses, pelas obras, também não, só juízes humanos ousam julgar, os deuses nunca, porque se supõe saberem tudo, salvo se tudo isto é falso, se justamente não é sua ocupação única esquecerem em cada momento o que do cada momento lhes vão ensinando os atos dos homens, os bons como os maus, iguais derradeiramente para os deuses, porque inúteis lhes são. Não digamos Amanhã farei, porque o mais certo é estarmos cansados amanhã, digamos antes, Depois de amanhã, sempre teremos um dia de intervalo para mudar de opinião e projeto, porém ainda mais prudente seria dizer, Um dia decidirei quando será o dia de dizer depois de amanhã, e talvez nem seja preciso, se a morte definidora vier antes desobrigar-me do compromisso, liberdade que a nós próprios negamos.

When social and economic relationships are recast along an imaginary axis of center and periphery, geographical space can also become freighted with moral significance. The periferia designates not just a geographic locale but also an associated nexus of social, economic and moral conditions. Anyone who has spent significant time in Brazil inevitably will have been warned of the periferia, a term that identifies not only the perimeter of urban space but also the marginal conditions believed to prevail there. In its most narrow usage, periferia refers to the shantytowns and blocks of low income housing that have sprouted along the edges of Rio de Janeiro and other urban centers in Brazil. More broadly periferia denotes a boundary zone, frontier, or hinterland, but like all liminal terminology it lends itself to a web of referents expanding its meaning beyond the purely spatial to encompass both the moral and social connotations of life on the edge: marginality, lawlessness, immorality and chaos. It is often used as synonym for favela, although not all favelas are located on the periphery.

By his early-twenties, John F. Kennedy was living one of the most extraordinary young American lives of the twentieth century. He traveled in an orbit of unprecedented wealth, influence, global mobility, and power. As a student and as diplomatic assistant to his father, who served as U.S. ambassador to the United Kingdom from 1938 to 1940, Kennedy journeyed to England, Ireland, France, Moscow, Berlin, Beirut, Damascus, Athens, and Turkey, pausing briefly from a vacation on the French Riviera to sleep with the actress Marlene Dietrich. He met with top White House officials and traveled to Cuba, Rio de Janeiro, Buenos Aires, Santiago, Peru, and Ecuador. He gambled in a casino in Monte Carlo; visited Naples, Capri, Milan, Florence, Venice, and Rome; rode a camel at the Great Pyramid at Giza; attended the coronation of Pope Pius XII; and witnessed a rally for Italian dictator Benito Mussolini. He recalled of these momentous years, 'It was a great opportunity to see a period of history which was one of the most significant.' In a visit to British-occupied Palestine, Kennedy recalled, 'I saw the rock where our Lord ascended into heaven in a cloud, and [in] the same area, I saw the place where Mohammed was carried up to heaven on a white horse.

In 1934, strongman Fulgencio Batista forced President Grau’s resignation. Then in 1940, Grau lost his bid for the Presidency to his adversary Batista. Four years later in 1944, he did win the election and took office for a four-year term starting on October 10th. After Grau won the election and was the President elect, Batista still in office, blatantly attacked the National Treasury, leaving the cupboards bare by the time Grau was actually sworn in as President. Since Grau and Batista were staunch adversaries, it is highly unlikely that any deal could have been made in 1946 to allow “Lucky” Luciano into Cuba, especially with Luciano having been exiled to Sicily by the United States government that preceding February. Still, Lansky had enough political pull within the Cuban government to prepare for a strong Mafia presence in Havana. In October of 1946, in an attempt to keep his whereabouts a secret, “Lucky” Luciano covertly boarded a freighter taking him from Naples, Italy, to Caracas, Venezuela. Then Luciano flew south to Rio de Janeiro and returned north to Mexico City. On October 29, 1946, he arranged for a private flight from Mexico City to Camagüey, Cuba, where Meyer Lansky met him. Having the right connections, Luciano passed through Cuban customs unimpeded and was whisked by car to the splendid Grand Hotel. Luciano, having just arrived in Cuba, was looking forward to setting up operations. Cuba would actually be a better place than the United States for what he had in mind.

The wit and grace of Machado’s writing never diminish in these stories, and the scene is almost always the same. We are watching the bourgeoisie of Rio Janeiro at play, and occasionally trying to be serious. They misunderstand each other, they get married, they worry about dying, there is the occasional violent murder. Money and the business of keeping up appearances are large questions. The characters read Hugo and Feydeau, Dumas père and Dumas fils, and indeed the general tone is that of nineteenth-century Paris as reconstructed in so many Latin American locations of that time. Machado is gently mocking this class that believes only in borrowed culture, or in what the Brazilian critic Roberto Schwarz calls “misplaced ideas,” but he is not advocating any kind of nativism. When the chief character of “The Alienist,” refusing distinguished positions offered to him by the king of Portugal, refers to the Brazilian city of Itaguaí as “my universe,” we laugh because he seems to have made his world so small. But then we may also feel that his grandiose claim for his hometown and the exclusive fascination of others with the culture of Europe are simply rival forms of provincialism. There is a third way. We can take all culture, local and international, as our own, and this is the practice suggested by Machado’s own allusions, as it is by those of Jorge Luis Borges, writing a little later in a neighboring Latin American country. “We cannot confine ourselves to what is Argentine in order to be Argentine,” Borges says, and Machado might add that we don’t have to believe that Paris is the capital

The Personal Job Advertisement These two activities are likely to have encouraged some clearer ideas about genuine career possibilities, but you should not assume that you are necessarily the best judge of what might offer you fulfilment. Writing a Personal Job Advertisement allows you to seek the advice of other people. The concept behind this task is the opposite of a standard career search: imagine that newspapers didn’t advertise jobs, but rather advertised people who were looking for jobs. You do it in two steps. First, write a half-page job advertisement that tells the world who you are and what you care about in life. Put down your talents (e.g. you speak Mongolian, can play the bass guitar), your passions (e.g. ikebana, scuba diving), and the core values and causes you believe in (e.g. wildlife preservation, women’s rights). Include your personal qualities (e.g. you are quick-witted, impatient, lacking self-confidence). And record anything else that is important to you – a minimum salary or that you want to work abroad. Make sure you don’t include any particular job you are keen on, or your educational qualifications or career background. Keep it at the level of underlying motivations and interests. Here comes the intriguing part. Make a list of ten people you know from different walks of life and who have a range of careers – maybe a policeman uncle or a cartoonist friend – and email them your Personal Job Advertisement, asking them to recommend two or three careers that might fit with what you have written. Tell them to be specific – for example, not replying ‘you should work with children’ but ‘you should do charity work with street kids in Rio de Janeiro’. You will probably end up with an eclectic list of careers, many of which you would never have thought of yourself. The purpose is not only to give you surprising ideas for future careers, but also to help you see your many possible selves. After doing these three activities, and having explored the various dimensions of meaning, you should feel more confident about making a list of potential careers that offer the promise of meaningful work. What should you do next? Certainly not begin sending out your CV. Rather, as the following chapter explains, the key to finding a fulfilling career is to experiment with these possibilities in that rather frightening place called the real world. It’s time to take a ‘radical sabbatical’.

Tim Tigner began his career in Soviet Counterintelligence with the US Army Special Forces, the Green Berets. That was back in the Cold War days when, “We learned Russian so you didn't have to,” something he did at the Presidio of Monterey alongside Recon Marines and Navy SEALs. With the fall of the Berlin Wall, Tim switched from espionage to arbitrage. Armed with a Wharton MBA rather than a Colt M16, he moved to Moscow in the midst of Perestroika. There, he led prominent multinational medical companies, worked with cosmonauts on the MIR Space Station (from Earth, alas), chaired the Association of International Pharmaceutical Manufacturers, and helped write Russia’s first law on healthcare. Moving to Brussels during the formation of the EU, Tim ran Europe, Middle East, and Africa for a Johnson & Johnson company and traveled like a character in a Robert Ludlum novel. He eventually landed in Silicon Valley, where he launched new medical technologies as a startup CEO. In his free time, Tim has climbed the peaks of Mount Olympus, hang glided from the cliffs of Rio de Janeiro, and ballooned over Belgium. He earned scuba certification in Turkey, learned to ski in Slovenia, and ran the Serengeti with a Maasai warrior. He acted on stage in Portugal, taught negotiations in Germany, and chaired a healthcare conference in Holland. Tim studied psychology in France, radiology in England, and philosophy in Greece. He has enjoyed ballet at the Bolshoi, the opera on Lake Como, and the symphony in Vienna. He’s been a marathoner, paratrooper, triathlete, and yogi.  Intent on combining his creativity with his experience, Tim began writing thrillers in 1996 from an apartment overlooking Moscow’s Gorky Park. Decades later, his passion for creative writing continues to grow every day. His home office now overlooks a vineyard in Northern California, where he lives with his wife Elena and their two daughters. Tim grew up in the Midwest, and graduated from Hanover College with a BA in Philosophy and Mathematics. After military service and work as a financial analyst and foreign-exchange trader, he earned an MBA in Finance and an MA in International Studies from the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton and Lauder Schools.  Thank you for taking the time to read about the author. Tim is most grateful for his loyal fans, and loves to correspond with readers like you. You are welcome to reach him directly at tim@timtigner.com.

30 de Janeiro Os troncos afundam-se na escadaria no declive sumptuoso da superfície branca. São fantasmas, de costas geladas, vejo o lugar inteiro recolhendo os passos vagarosos da neve. A neve traz sucessivos dedos, figuras maiores como amantes fluídos que se concentram, se metem a caminho, para encontrarem fora dos astros a origem da fábula, da paródia, da tragédia do vaudeville. A neve escuta, e olha, regressa das cadeias abstractas onde também havia corações e noites de Agosto e a infância dos nomes em transformação. Na senda reclusa, o pinheiro argênteo feneceu. Dois homens hão-de chegar para cortá-lo. Desistiu, pensei. Cansou, atalhei remediando. Seria nas primeiras névoas de Novembro, foi nas branduras de Outubro. O pinheiro tornou-se num ramo de cabelos sem odor, irrompido de intrépida mudez. Mas agora, tão cândido por entre a cerração, grito de alvura, à despedida, sem nada já saber do apelo e da velocidade dos minutos, ainda os membros rendidos para o carambelo, asas púrpura de um cardeal a entrarem-lhe no corpo, ainda um pintarroxo a ver-se nos seus galhos, como em alcácer, como obra-prima no sítio de nascer. É meio-dia, bateu meio-dia no velho relógio sobre o jardim dos Prosoros. À distância, o sonho, com Moscow e a estonteada floresta passam, passa o limite lôbrego do rio. Abalada e giratória a luz vinda de todos os lados, a luz acordará Nicolai Lvovitch Tusenbach: «Uma árvore secou, mas eis que balança, a par das outras, tocadas pela brisa. Isto me diz que farei parte da vida mesmo depois de morrer»[1]. O tempo caminhando, a flecha do tempo a consumar o fogo e a rebentar as trevas, tudo é terrível de ambíguo enojo, vamos decerto arder depois de florirmos íngremes de mensagens, voar na planície ignota, mas não seremos esquecidos, Olga Prosorov, o pintarroxo além, como em alcácer, a nossa ressurreição, vê.

Brasil convertia-se em uma República Federativa constituída por vinte estados autônomos e um distrito federal, a cidade do Rio de Janeiro, onde funcionaria a sede do governo até que se construísse uma nova capital, no planalto central do país.

President George H. W. Bush flew to Rio de Janeiro to sign the U.N. Framework Convention on Climate Change, which committed its signatories to preventing “dangerous anthropogenic interference in the climate system.”107 President Bush then pledged to translate the written document into “concrete action to protect the planet.

The media have indeed informed the public about threats to our air, water and food. Ever since 1962, when Rachel Carson published Silent Spring, more and more information has been made available. And the public has responded. About fifteen years ago, public interest in the environment reached its height. In 1988, George Bush Senior promised that, if elected, he would be an environmental president. In the same year, Canadian Prime Minister Brian Mulroney was re-elected, and to indicate his ecological concern he moved the minister of the environment into the inner Cabinet. Newly created environment departments around the world were poised to cut back on fossil-fuel use, monitor the effects of acid rain and other pollutants, clean up toxic wastes, and protect plant and animal species. Information about our troubled environment had reached a large number of people, and that information, as expected, led to civic and political action. In 1992, it all reached its apex as the largest-ever gathering of heads of state in human history met at the Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro. “Sustainable development” was the rallying cry, and politicians and business leaders promised to take a new path. Henceforth, they said, the environment would be weighed in every political, social and economic decision. Yet only two weeks after all the fine statements of purpose and government commitments were signed in Rio, the Group of Seven industrialized nations met in Munich and not a word was mentioned about the environment. The main topic was the global economy. The environment, it was said, had fallen off the list of public concerns, and environmentalism had been relegated to the status of a transitory fad.

on the first night of the program. She waltzed around the set topless. She asked what asparagus was and said, “Rio de Janeiro, ain’t that a person?” She referred to East Anglia as “East Angular,” thought Portugal was in Spain, and complained that she was

During the return flight from Rio de Janeiro I said that if a homosexual person is of goodwill and is in search of God, I am no one to judge. By saying this, I said what the catechism says. Religion has the right to express its opinion in the service of the people, but God in creation has set us free: it is not possible to interfere spiritually in the life of a person.

Dei o nome de Primeiros Cantos às poesias que agora publico, porque espero que não serão as últimas. Muitas delas não têm uniformidade nas estrofes, porque menosprezo regras de mera convenção; adotei todos os ritmos da metrificação portuguesa, e usei deles como me pareceram quadrar melhor com o que eu pretendia exprimir. Não têm unidade de pensamento entre si, porque foram compostas em épocas diversas - debaixo de céu diverso - e sob a influência de impressões momentâneas. Foram compostas nas margens viçosas do Mondego e nos píncaros enegrecidos do Gerez - no Doiro e no Teia - sobre as vagas do Atlântico, e nas florestas virgens da América. Escrevi-as para mim, e não para os outros; contentar-me-ei, se agradarem; e se não... é sempre certo que tive o prazer de as ter composto. Com a vida isolada que vivo, gosto de afastar os olhos de sobre a nossa arena política para ler em minha alma, reduzindo à linguagem harmoniosa e cadente o pensamento que me vem de improviso, e as idéias que em mim desperta a vista de uma paisagem ou do oceano - o aspecto enfim da natureza. Casar assim o pensamento com o sentimento - o coração com o entendimento - a idéia com a paixão - cobrir tudo isto com a imaginação, fundir tudo isto com a vida e com a natureza, purificar tudo com o sentimento da religião e da divindade, eis a Poesia - a Poesia grande e santa - a Poesia como eu a compreendo sem a poder definir, como eu a sinto sem a poder traduzir. O esforço - ainda vão - para chegar a tal resultado é sempre digno de louvor; talvez seja este o só merecimento deste volume. O Público o julgará; tanto melhor se ele o despreza, porque o Autor interessa em acabar com essa vida desgraçada, que se diz de Poeta. Rio de Janeiro, julho de 1846.

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The Police – Maracanãzinho, 1982. Uma noite quente no Rio de Janeiro, com todos os seus 40 graus estampados, e empapados de suor na camiseta escura do vocalista. Logo aqui embaixo, o couro come no palco. Iluminação simples de matizes rasta. Time de metais dando o tempero com discrição e esperteza. E, para a alegria dos -aqui nebuloso- quatro ou cinco mil presentes, um verdadeiro supergrupo em plena forma, fazendo uma certa história. Esse pode não ter sido um “show que mudou o mundo”, como se diz daquele Sex Pistols em Manchester; ou, mais na nossa categoria, o Nirvana no Morumbi, em 1993. Mas, nesse 16 de fevereiro de 1982, o Police, ainda que de maneira fugaz, nos iluminou no Maracanãzinho. Para além da música, a presença da banda no Brasil, nesse momento, nos deu uma sensação praticamente inédita de, com o perdão da palavra, modernidade. De frescor, de novidade…Foi a captação, a sacação coletiva, ao vivo e com riffs e coros, do tal zeitgeist do pop planetário. Durante um par de horas, fizemos parte do mundão dos bons sons.

In all the occupations throughout the United States and around the world, from Rio de Janeiro to Ljubljana, from Oakland to Amsterdam, even in cases when they lasted only a short time, the participants experienced the power of creating new political affects through being together.

Naquele tempo, à noite, Luanda inteira cheirava a jinguba (amendoim), pois era com óleo extraído das sementes desta planta que se iluminavam as ruas. Fradique dizia que as cidades, como as mulheres, se podiam distinguir pelo odor. Os portos da África ocidental francesa, dizia ele, cheiram fortemente a cebola frita em manteiga, mistura que os jovens friccionavam no corpo como se fosse um perfume; o Rio de Janeiro cheira a goiabas maduras, e Lisboa a sardinha, manjerico e deputados. Arcénio de Carpo pai lembrou que no Sul de Angola, entre os cuamatos, as mulheres untam os cabelos com esterco de vaca, e que esse cheiro representa para elas a mais delicada fragrância.

The mountains of Rio de Janeiro were laughing, deep in their intimacy of earth and stone and roots and organic matter from dead leaves and animals and dumped dead bodies; they were laughing at all that anxious human drama: people love one another, kill one another, roll boulders, and at the end of the day none of it makes much difference. The mountains’ time is different; so are their frames of reference.

Killings by cops on the job continued to rise. . . . they became an institutionalized way for police to settle scores. "We stopped being peacekeeping police and turned into troops at war," Mário Sérgio said.

It didn't take much prompting for Cariocas who were sick of living with violence to advocate violence as a solution.

It was time to take up the discussion over governance, housing, transportation, security, health care, and education—to define the country we wanted and outline our terms. Who were we. . . . What were our limits and our ambitions?

You kill one, there was another in his place, and what's worse, his nephew now hated you, his friend now hated you. . . . There was no end.

he had to end this war—not win it

This was about more than semantics; it represented a dangerous shift in perspective. Rio was not at war, I pointed out; and even if it were, wars have rules.

The reality is fuck the animals, fuck biodiversity, fuck the laws, and long live construction," [Ricardo Freitas] said. "All of this is being done because some people will make a lot of money, and it's being done with no monitoring, no support, no rescue of species.

Really, what is the law when it stands in the way of what the government wants to do?

The city is physical, concrete," Pedro [da Luz] said. "When we make a mistake, it is a mistake that will last for forty, fifty years. That's a problem.

You’re not going to die, said Comrade Inês. But her body no longer seemed to have the will to live. In her letter to Chico, Manuela wrote, with revolutionary flair: I admire you so much. Your strength, your ability. If I don’t make it, please find a way to notify my parents in Rio de Janeiro. Tell them that I never regretted coming here. Dying sick in a bed isn’t the same as dying in a war against the enemies of the people, it is true, but even so I don’t regret it. I also want to say that I really like you. I wish life were different. You know. Really different. Completely different.

Carlota, as filhas princesas e outras damas da corte tinham desembarcado com as cabeças raspadas ou cabelos curtos, protegidas por turbantes, devido à infestação de piolhos que havia assolado os navios durante a viagem. Tobias Monteiro conta que, ao ver as princesas assim cobertas, as mulheres do Rio de Janeiro tiveram uma reação surpreendente. Acharam que aquela seria a última moda na Europa. Dentro de pouco tempo, quase todas elas passaram a cortar os cabelos e a usar turbantes para imitar as nobres portuguesas

Yet hundreds of years ago cartographers from Europe decided that Madrid was above Rio de Janeiro and that Australia should be way “down under.” From then on, we have always looked at the world from the same fixed viewpoint.

Crônica da Cidade do Rio de Janeiro No alto da noite do Rio de Janeiro, luminoso, generoso, o Cristo Redentor estende os braços. Debaixo desses braços os netos dos escravos encontram amparo. Uma mulher descalça olha o Cristo, lá de baixo, e apontando seu furgor, diz, muito tristemente: “Daqui a pouco, já não estará mais aí. Ouvi dizer que vão tirar Ele daí.” “Não se preocupe”- tranquiliza sua vizinha – “Não se preocupe, Ele volta.” A polícia mata muitos, e mais ainda mata a economia. Na cidade violenta, soam tiros e também tambores: os atabaques, ansiosos de consolo e de vingança, chamam os deuses africanos. Cristo sozinho não basta.

reorganização do Império passa também por transformações culturais. Lisboa deixa forçosamente de ser o centro único de onde se irradiam o ensino, as letras e as ciências. Em 13 de maio de 1808, dia de seus 41 anos, D. João funda a Impressão Régia, que publica os textos oficiais mas está também autorizada

Would you buy a used car from your occupier? For the first six months of the intifada, Ehud Gol was the official Israeli Foreign Ministry spokesman. Every day he had to go before the world’s press and defend Israel’s treatment of the Palestinians. But in the spring of 1988, Gol was made the Israeli Consul General in Rio de Janeiro and he had to sell his car before he left the country. Practically the first place he went was to a Palestinian car dealer in the West Bank town of Ramallah. “Intifada or no intifada, this was business,” Gol explained to me. “The car dealer even came down to the Foreign Ministry and we went over all the papers in my office. There I was, the Foreign Ministry spokesman, and this guy, whose son was probably out throwing stones, was ready to buy from me—and it was a used car!” A Palestinian teacher I knew was driving from Ramallah to Jerusalem one afternoon when he saw a colleague of his from Bir Zeit University and offered to give him a lift. “This fellow came from a small village near Ramallah,” said my teacher friend. “The whole way into Jersualem he was talking to me about the intifada and how it had changed his village, how everyone was involved, and how the local committees of the uprising were running the village and they were getting rid of all the collaborators. He was really enthusiastic, and I was really impressed. As we got close to Jerusalem, I asked him where he wanted to be dropped off and he said, ‘The Hebrew University.’ I was really surprised, so I said, ‘What are you going there for?’ and he said, ‘I teach an Arabic class there.’ It simply didn’t occur to him that there was any contradiction between enthusiasm for the intifada and where he was going.

Caio Cesar, a Brazilian voice actor who dubbed Daniel Radcliffe as Harry Potter, was also a police officer and died when he was only 27 after being shot in his neck in the slums of Rio de Janeiro.

Bolsonaro venceu a eleição de 2018 porque parte dos brasileiros foi seduzida pela ideia da violência redentora. Diante da crise econômica e da descrença na política, os eleitores escolheram um justiceiro para governá- los. Como se o país decidisse abandonar suas instituições democráticas para se tornar uma enorme Rio das Pedras gerida por princípios milicianos.

O desvio de armas e munições da própria polícia para os criminosos que eles combatem pode parecer, à primeira vista, incongruente ou suicida. No entanto, era esse mercado que azeitava a engrenagem da guerra que fortalecia a polícia. Por um lado, se as armas e munições de calibre pesado traumatizavam a população da cidade, por outro, ajudavam a transmitir à população a ideia de que os policiais e as forças de segurança eram imprescindíveis para combater o caos e a desordem no Rio.

If you could only see Tonight’s moonrise over Rio Then you would understand Just why my heart aches so Christ the Redeemer Can’t even compare To the spectacular wonder Climbing high over there So far above me So out of reach Lighting the city Lighting the beach With a heavenly glow With God only knows Endless beauty to behold Moonrise over Rio

But who is he, my protagonist? Jacob? Marusya? Genrikh? Me? Yurik? No. No one, in fact, who is conscious of an individual existence, of birth and an anticipated, and unavoidable, death. Not a person at all, one might say, but a substance with a certain chemical makeup. And is it possible to call a “substance” something that, being immortal, has the capacity to transform itself, to change all its fine, subtle little planes and angles, its crooks and crevices, its radicals? It is more likely an essence that belongs neither to being nor to nonbeing. It wanders through generations, from person to person, and creates the very illusion of personality. It is the immortal essence, written in code, that organized the mortal bodies of Pythagoras and Aristotle, Parmenides and Plato, as well as the random person one encounters on the road, in the streetcar, on the metro, or in the seat next to you in an airplane. Who suddenly appears before you, and calls up a familiar, dim sensation of a previously glimpsed outline, a bend or a curve, a likeness—perhaps of a great-grandfather, a fellow villager, or even someone from the other side of the world. Thus, my protagonist is essence itself. The bearer of everything that defines a human being—the high and the low, courage and cowardice, cruelty and gentleness, and the hunger for knowledge. One hundred thousand essences, united in a certain pattern and order, form a human being, a temporary abode for each and every person. This is, in fact, immortality. And you, a human being—a white man, a black woman, an idiot, a genius, a Nigerian pirate, a Parisian baker, a transvestite from Rio de Janeiro, an old rabbi from Bnei Brak—you, too, are just a temporary abode.

De Oranjes mogen van mij in de leer gaan in Rio de Janeiro.

He grew up in Rio de Janeiro. So, it could be so many things. Such a rich tradition of comfort foods. Maybe not something entirely traditional. Umm... churros?" She said it exactly the way he had taught her to say it, many moons ago, while feeding the crisp-on-the-outside, pillowy-on-the-inside confection into her mouth and then tasting the sticky sweetness on her lips.

Amid the luxurious freshness of Ipanema each building has its own secret police.

from their peak in 2006, and the decline is explained entirely by the evaporation of interesting, intelligent mid-budget films. Studios realized their assumption that they had to make every type of movie for everyone was no longer true. So they focused on the types of movies that delivered the biggest and most consistent profits to their publicly traded parent corporations. Increasingly, that meant movies that appealed to audiences in Russia, Brazil, and China. These consumers weren’t likely to understand the cultural subtleties of an American drama or to consider people talking or even running for their lives to be adequate bang for their buck on an expensive night out. They expected spectacle, particularly if they were paying premiums for an IMAX or 3D screen, and they wanted stories that made sense to a villager in China, a resident of Rio de Janeiro, or a teenager in Kansas City. Transformers, in other words. And The Avengers. And Jurassic World and Fast and Furious and Star Wars. With the exception of 1997’s Titanic, which made a spectacle out of the sinking of a cruise ship and Leonardo DiCaprio’s eyes, the forty-eight highest-grossing Hollywood films overseas are all visual-effects-heavy action-adventure films or family animation.

The United Nations has declared June 8, as World Oceans Day. The concept of a ‘World Ocean Day’ was first proposed in 1992 by the Government of Canada at the Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro.

Como brasileiro eu simplesmente falaria contra a internacionalização da Amazônia. A Amazônia é brasileira! Como humanista, sentindo o risco da degradação ambiental que sofre a Amazônia, posso imaginar a sua internacionalização. Assim tudo o mais importante para a Humanidade. Se a Amazônia deve ser internacionalizada, internacionalizemos também as reservas de petróleo do mundo inteiro. O petróleo é tão importante para o bem-estar da humanidade quanto a Amazônia para o nosso futuro. Contudo, os donos das reservas sentem-se no direito de aumentar ou diminuir a extração de petróleo e subir ou não seu preço. Tal qual, o capital financeiro dos países ricos deveria ser internacionalizado. Se a Amazônia é uma reserva para todos os seres humanos, ela não pode ser queimada pela vontade de um dono, ou de um país. Queimar a Amazônia é tão grave quanto o desemprego provocado pelas decisões arbitrárias dos especuladores globais. Não podemos deixar que as Reservas financeiras sirvam para queimar países inteiros na volúpia da especulação. Antes mesmo da Amazônia, eu gostaria de ver a internacionalização de todos os grandes museus do mundo: O Louvre não deve pertencer apenas à França. Cada museu do mundo é guardião das mais belas peças produzidas pelo gênio humano. Tal qual o patrimônio natural amazônico, não se pode deixar que esse patrimônio histórico cultural, seja manipulado e destruído pelo gosto de um proprietário ou de um país. O Retrato do Dr Gachet de Van Gogh Era de propriedade de Ryoei Saito. O milionario Japones pediu para ser cremado com a pintura. Antes, aquele quadro deveria ter sido internacionalizado. As Nações Unidas estão realizando o Fórum do Milênio. Mas alguns estadistas tiveram dificuldades em comparecer por constrangimentos na fronteira dos EUA: Nova York, como sede das Nações Unidas, deve ser internacionalizada. Pelo menos Manhatan deveria pertencer a toda a Humanidade. Assim como Paris, Veneza, Roma, Londres, Rio de Janeiro, Brasília, Recife. Cada cidade, com sua beleza específica, sua história do mundo, deveria pertencer ao mundo inteiro. Se os EUA querem internacionalizar a Amazônia, pelo risco de deixá-la nas mãos de brasileiros, Internacionalizemos todos os arsenais nucleares dos EUA. (Até porque eles já demonstraram que são capazes de usar essas armas, provocando uma destruição milhares de vezes maior do que as lamentáveis queimadas feitas nas florestas do Brasil). Candidatos à presidência dos EUA têm defendido a ideia de internacionalizar as reservas florestais do mundo em troca da dívida. Comecemos usando essa dívida para garantir que cada criança do Mundo tenha a possibilidade de comer e de ir à escola. Internacionalizemos as crianças! Não importando o país onde nasceram, tratemo-as como patrimônio que merece cuidados do mundo inteiro. Ainda mais do que merece a Amazônia. Quando os dirigentes tratarem as crianças pobres do mundo como um Patrimônio da Humanidade, eles não deixarão que elas trabalhem quando deveriam estudar, que morram quando deveriam viver. Como humanista, aceito defender a internacionalização do mundo. Mas, enquanto o mundo me tratar como brasileiro, lutarei para que a Amazônia seja nossa. Só nossa!

Os paramilitares se dirão defensores da ordem e da tradição, contra a imprevisibilidade proporcionada pela venda de drogas. Já os traficantes se dirão contrários à cobrança de taxas a moradores e comerciantes, além de se colocarem como resistência a uma polícia opressiva e corrupta. Na prática, contudo, o que move ambos os lados é a busca por mais dinheiro e poder.

A Odebrecht não era a única a agir assim. Praticamente todas as grandes construtoras tinham seu canal privilegiado com PC — OAS, Andrade Gutierrez e Cetenco estavam entre as mais próximas. E não só empreiteiras, mas também laboratórios farmacêuticos, montadoras de automóveis, mineradoras, empresas de ônibus. Havia esquemas para todos os gostos e necessidades. E um punhado de operadores, como o secretário de Assuntos Estratégicos Pedro Paulo Leoni Ramos, o PP, o secretário particular, Cláudio Vieira, o secretário-geral, Marcos Coimbra, ou Lafaiete Coutinho, presidente da Caixa Econômica Federal. Todos, claro, prestando contas a PC Farias. Aos empresários mais chegados — incluindo os executivos da Odebrecht —, o primeiro-amigo costumava dizer que o presidente da República lhe impusera uma meta: “O Collor quer ganhar do Quércia, que juntou 1 bilhão com a política”. Isso até o dia em que um dos mandachuvas da construtora foi visitar PC na casa que ele mantinha em São Paulo, no bairro do Morumbi, para “reuniões de negócios”. Ao rememorar o episódio anos depois, em uma entrevista, o empresário contou que chegou no final da manhã de um dia de semana e encontrou PC confraternizando com um grupo de pessoas, chacoalhando o copo de uísque à vontade e entre risadas. “PC, que diabo é isso aí?!”, ele foi perguntando, enquanto o outro lhe estendia um copo. “Estamos comemorando 1 bilhão de dólares de arrecadação.” Mais intrigado do que espantado, o empreiteiro fez de cabeça umas contas rápidas. “Mas com o que nós [as construtoras] lhe pagamos ainda não pode ter dado para juntar isso tudo.” PC riu. “Vocês são bestas, vocês são merda! Nossa maior fonte [de propinas], sabe qual é? As telefônicas! A quantidade de equipamentos que essas telefônicas têm de comprar é uma enormidade!”, respondeu PC, ligeiramente satisfeito por ensinar o pai-nosso ao vigário.5 No Rio de Janeiro, o presidente da estatal de telefonia, indicado por PC, era um jovem economista chamado Eduardo Cunha.

Que novidades há? perguntou Félix sentando-se à mesa.  — Nada que me conste, respondeu Viana imitando o dono da casa; o Rio de Janeiro vai a pior.  — Sim?  — É verdade; já não aparece um escândalo. Vivemos em completa abstinência, e chegou o reinado da virtude. Olhe, eu sinto a nostalgia da imoralidade. 

At the height of this construction frenzy, a couple of opportunistic real estate developers hang a sign near the top of the hills surrounding the valley to advertise their new housing development. It has fifty-foot-high white letters that spell out HOLLYWOODLAND. It is meant to stay there only for one year, or until all the units are sold, whichever happens first, but it never comes down. Shortened to HOLLYWOOD in 1949, it becomes a hovering symbol of the industry of dreams, and to this day watches over Tinseltown like the giant statue of Jesus over Rio de Janeiro. With

É bom, meu caro Senhor Doutor Prefeito, viver na pobreza, mas muito melhor é morrer nela. Não se levam para a cova maldições dos parentes e amigos deserdados; só carregamos lamentações e bênçãos daqueles a quem não pagamos mais a casa. Foi o que aconteceu comigo e estava certo de ir direitinho para o Céu, quando, por culpa do Senhor e da Repartição que o Senhor dirige, tive que ir para o inferno penar alguns anos ainda. Embora a pena seja leve, eu me amolei, por não ter contribuído para ela de forma alguma. A culpa é da Prefeitura Municipal do Rio de Janeiro, que não cumpre os seus deveres, calçando convenientemente as ruas. Vamos ver por quê. Tendo sido enterrado no cemitério de Inhaúma e vindo o meu enterro do Méier, o coche e o acompanhamento tiveram que atravessar em toda a extensão a Rua José Bonifácio, em Todos os Santos. Esta rua foi calçada há perto de cinquenta anos a macadame e nunca mais foi o seu calçamento substituído. Há caldeirões de todas as profundidades e larguras, por ela afora. Dessa forma, um pobre defunto que vai dentro do caixão em cima de um coche que por ela rola sofre o diabo. De uma feita um até, após um trambolhão do carro mortuário, saltou do esquife, vivinho da silva, tendo ressuscitado com o susto.

El Dr. Sergio Ralon es actualmente Jefe de Unidad de la Primera Cirugía de Adultos del Hospital General San Juan de Dios y Profesor titular de Cirugía de la Universidad de San Carlos de Guatemala. Realizo sus estudios de Medicina en la Universidad de San Carlos de Guatemala y post-grado de Cirugía en el Hospital General San Juan de Dios donde fue Jefe de Residentes. Curso el Postgrado de Cirugía General y Cáncer en la Universidad de Tel-Aviv, Israel y Mastología en el Instituto Nacional du Cáncer en Rio de Janeiro, Brasil. Ha sido becado del Colegio Americano de Cirujanos y de la Federación Internacional de Cirugía estudiando en las Universidades de Stanford, Brown, Boston, Harvard y Cardiff en Gales. Realizo el entrenamiento de Cromoendoscopia para diagnostico precoz de cancer gastrico en el Instituto Nacional de Cancer de Tokio, Japon. Ha sido instructor de cirugía de la Universidad Francisco Marroquin y realizo servicio voluntario en el Ejercito Israelí sirviendo en areas de conflicto siendo el unico Guatemalteco en ser nombrado instructor de KAPAP-LOTAR de las fuerzas especiales Israelies. Pertenece a varias asociaciones quirúrgicas nacionales e internacionales, entre ellas la Sociedad Americana de Cirugía Oncológica y la Sociedad internacional de Cirugía, Colegio Americano de Cirujanos, Sociedad Americana de Cirujanos Mamarios, Sociedad Americana de Oncologia Clinica y la Sociedad Americana de Trauma. El Dr. Ralon tiene estudios de Terrorismo y ContraTerrorismo por la Universidad de Leiden en la Haya Holanda y estudios sobre Medio Oriente por la Universidad de Tel-Aviv, Israel

Sob um clima abrasador, em uma cidade onde o termômetro atinge facilmente os 40 graus à sombra, (...) os brasileiros se obstinam a viver e a se vestir como se fossem europeus. Eles trabalham nas horas mais quentes do dia, das 9 da manhã às quatro da tarde, como se fossem negociantes londrinos. Eles passeiam nas ruas trajando jaquetões escuros, cartolas de copa alta e se submetem ao martírio com a mais perfeita resignação. O problema é que, apesar das aparências, eles não dispõem de meios para viver nos trópicos. A municipalidade do Rio de Janeiro não garante sequer o saneamento adequado da cidade, periodicamente assolada pela febre amarela.

A Valdete, professora de português e literatura, graduada em Letras, possui mais de 50 anos de experiência em sala de aula. Apesar de estar aposentada, ela continua ministrando aulas particulares de redação, tanto no formato online quanto presencial, em sua residência em Copacabana, no Rio de Janeiro, Brasil. Além das aulas de redação, ela também ministra aulas particulares de português e faz correção de redação assim como também revisão de textos em geral, tais como, teses, livros, e artigos.

Rio Private Tours is a tour company in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. It has been founded in 2009 by a reputable local private tour guide. It offers hassle-free private tours to the major and famous Rio de Janeiro attractions such as Christ the Redeemer statue and Sugar Loaf, but also to off-the-beaten-path sites that only knowledgeable locals know. The founder has guided tourists from dozens of different nationalities and has accumulated hundreds of excellent reviews due to his commitment to excellence.

the Indians whom Magellan and his crew would encounter in Rio de Janeiro:

13, 1519, the fleet entered the lush and gorgeous Bay of Saint Lucy and approached the mouth of the River of January—Rio de Janeiro.

This ebook contains 28 photos of 4 Brazilian girlfriends of mine: Mariana, Eva, Tereza and Angela. All beautiful women wearing bikinis on the beaches of Rio de Janeiro.

Houve um tempo em que, se tivesse de optar entre duas cegueiras, escolheria ser cego ao esplendor do mar, às montanhas, ao pôr-do-sol do Rio de Janeiro, para ter olhos de ler o que há de belo, em letras negras sobre fundo branco.

Maximum speed was restricted to M 2.2 in order to use conventional aluminum alloys (flights above M 2.2 require titanium and special steels because of thermal limitations). The first test flight of the French prototype was on March 2, 1969; M 1 was reached briefly for the first time on October 1, 1969, and M 2 was sustained on November 4, 1970. Extensive testing of both prototypes followed, and commercial operations began on January 21, 1976, with concurrent flights from London to Bahrain and from Paris to Rio de Janeiro.

His Night Visit to Bahia, and the consequent Flight of the Enemy.—Lord Cochrane's Pursuit of them.—His Visit to Maranham, and Annexation of that Province and of Para.—His Return to Rio de Janeiro.—The Honours conferred upon him. - 223 CHAPTER XI [1823-1824.]

Por esse intrincado labirinto de ruas e bibocas é que vive uma grande parte da população da cidade, a cuja existência o governo fecha os olhos, embora lhe cobre atrozes impostos, empregados em obras inúteis e suntuárias noutros pontos do Rio de Janeiro. [...] O subúrbio é o refúgio dos infelizes. [...] O Rio de Janeiro, que tem, na fronte, na parte anterior, um tão lindo diadema de montanhas e árvores, não consegue fazê-lo coroa a cingi-lo todo em roda. A parte posterior, como se vê, não chega a ser um neobarbante que prenda dignamente o diadema que lhe cinge a testa olímpica...

Miles away Matisse had had much the same reaction: he was at the frontier with his passport in his pocket and the boat was waiting at Genoa to take him to Rio de Janeiro; but, as he wrote to his son, “When I saw the endless line of people leaving I had not the least desire to go … I should have felt like a deserter. If everything of any worth runs away, what will remain of France?” France meant different things to Matisse and Picasso: but although Picasso remained a Spaniard through and through, France and above all Paris nevertheless for him meant light, freedom, and the living arts, and that intemporal country, beyond all national or geographic boundaries, was where his patriotism lay.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Tim Tigner began his career in Soviet Counterintelligence with the US Army Special Forces, the Green Berets. That was back in the Cold War days when, “We learned Russian so you didn't have to,” something he did at the Presidio of Monterey alongside Recon Marines and Navy SEALs. With the fall of the Berlin Wall, Tim switched from espionage to arbitrage. Armed with a Wharton MBA rather than a Colt M16, he moved to Moscow in the midst of Perestroika. There, he led prominent multinational medical companies, worked with cosmonauts on the MIR Space Station (from Earth, alas), chaired the Association of International Pharmaceutical Manufacturers, and helped write Russia’s first law on healthcare. Moving to Brussels during the formation of the EU, Tim ran Europe, Middle East and Africa for a Johnson & Johnson company and traveled like a character in a Robert Ludlum novel. He eventually landed in Silicon Valley, where he launched new medical technologies as a startup CEO. In his free time, Tim has climbed the peaks of Mount Olympus, hang glided from the cliffs of Rio de Janeiro, and ballooned over Belgium. He earned scuba certification in Turkey, learned to ski in Slovenia, and ran the Serengeti with a Maasai warrior. He acted on stage in Portugal, taught negotiations in Germany, and chaired a healthcare conference in Holland. Tim studied psychology in France, radiology in England, and philosophy in Greece. He has enjoyed ballet at the Bolshoi, the opera on Lake Como, and the symphony in Vienna. He’s been a marathoner, paratrooper, triathlete, and yogi.

Amor em Rios Ah Rio de janeiro Devolvas meu amor! Tu tens samba? Sei que tens E o mar é o mais bonito Tuas praias? Sem iguais Mas meu amor, que tem com isso? Se a tentas com paisagens Como o Cristo redentor Saiba que à minha terra pertence O Lacerda e o Pelô Saiba bem que nada disso Tentará ela a ficar Pois tudo que por mim sente Bem maior é que o Cristo Bem mais belo é que as praias E bem mais profundo é que o mar...

Tive um professor carioca, muito espirituoso, que dizia que ao fazer o Rio de Janeiro, Deus deu o compasso aos sambistas e desenhou os morros à mão. O que mais me impressiona, vejam vocês, são estes sólidos cuidadosamente arranjados no espaço, essas curvas transcendentais, parabólicas, esses côncavos virados para baixo, cheios de rocha poética… Deve haver uma equação algébrica que os desenhem como a mão livre os fez. O Rio, senhores, é o altar da geometria divina.

Que coisa? Não sei. Qualquer coisa, um feto que está nas entranhas do futuro, — ou cinco fetos para imitar uma senhora de Aracati, estação da estrada de ferro Leopoldina, que acaba de dar à luz cinco criaturas. Todas gozam perfeita saúde. Eis o que se chama vontade de criar. Parecem uns retardatários, munidos de bilhetes, que receiam perder o espetáculo, e entram aos magotes. Não, amiguinhos, não é tarde; qualquer que seja a hora, chegareis a tempo. O espetáculo é semelhante ao panorama do Rio de Janeiro, de Victor Meirelles; está sempre no mesmo pavilhão.

COMPRO CUECAS USADAS PARA FINS SENTIMENTAIS Pago R$ 50 por cueca usada. Cuecas slip brancas valem mais (R$ 60). Tenho fetiche por: AGROBOYS (cada cueca será comprada por R$ 5 a mais; R$ 10 a mais caso o vendedor esteja usando um chapéu de palha durante o encontro com o comprador); ADVOGADOS (R$ 5 a mais por cueca caso o vendedor se apresente de terno); LIMPADORES DE JANELAS (venha com o uniforme da empresa para ganhar mais R$ 7 por cueca usada); PILOTOS DE MOTOCROSS (venha a caráter e R$ 150 serão somados ao valor total); HOMENS QUE PINTARAM O CABELO DE LOIRO PARA O ANO NOVO (valor total dobrado!). Compro sungas usadas, secas (R$ 70 por peça) ou molhadas (R$ 80 reais por peça — atenção: é importante que as peças molhadas estejam embaladas em saco plástico transparente e que tenham sido utilizadas nas últimas doze horas, no máximo. Obs.: caso tenha sido banho de mar, pago R$ 10 a mais por item). Encontre-me às 16h em frente à escola Elysium, no bairro Cacau, Rosália (Região Metropolitana do Rio de Janeiro). Estou disponível de segunda a sexta. Sou branco, tenho cabelos e olhos claros, e sou razoavelmente alto (meço um pouco mais de um metro e oitenta). Estarei parado próximo ao portão do colégio esperando — por favor, não deixe que meu semblante sério o intimide: aborde-me... mas seja discreto! O pagamento será realizado em dinheiro vivo. Para mais informações, entre em contato comigo pelo Facebook. Pedro von Schwenderlauf. (Caixa de mensagens sempre desbloqueada.)

Back then, the total human population was roughly 5 million people, spread along coastlines and rivers all over the world. The total of humanity was smaller than the population of one of our big cities today: London, Bangkok, or Rio de Janeiro.

GuideFrancophoneRiodeJaneiro.com is a French-speaking tour guide in Rio de Janeiro. If French is your native language or you prefer a tour in French, don’t hesitate in reserving this reputable tour guide, who has been guiding tourists since 2004. With him, you can visit famous sites such as Christ the Redeemer statue and SugarLoaf, among other gems (Downtown, Lapa steps, old neighborhoods, markets, hidden beaches, cool museums, and many other tourist attractions in Rio de Janeiro).

RiodeJaneiroPrivateTour is a tour company in Rio de Janeiro. Although this specific website was created in 2023, its founder has been providing private guided tours since 2004. SugarLoaf Mountain and Christ the Redeemer statue on Corcovado Mountain are among the sites that can be visited accompanied by a reputable tour guide in Rio de Janeiro. If you are planning a trip to Brazil, you should definitely hire an experienced tour guide who has guided thousands a tourists from all over the world.

before long there were also pneumatic tube networks in Vienna, Prague, Munich, Rio de Janeiro, Dublin, Rome, Naples, Milan, and Marseilles. One of the most ambitious systems was installed in New York, linking many of the post offices in Manhattan and Brooklyn. This system was large enough to handle small parcels, and on one occasion a cat was even sent from one post office to another along the tubes.

Which is where the next ambitious ALG project comes in: African Leadership Unleashed, or ALU. Led by Fred Swaniker, ALU is a plan to establish a network of 25 universities across the continent by the end of the decade—Africa’s Ivy League—each of which will have 10,000 students. The first ALU has already opened in Mauritius. The idea is to apply the exact same boutique model of the African Leadership Academy to tertiary education. Once the 25 colleges are built and running, it will mean that every four years 250,000 young Africans trained in business, government, ethics, social policy, medicine and the arts will be entering the workforce. Among them will be the new generation of Africa’s leaders. Says Swaniker, “Hundreds of thousands of university graduates on the continent today are not equipped with the skills to lead change. About 45 percent of university graduates in Africa today are unemployed. This is a tragedy. I want to change this by applying ALA’s model in a tertiary space to provide the critical skills and leadership experience necessary for success.” Swaniker announced the project in a powerful talk at TEDGlobal 2014 in Rio de Janeiro titled “The Leaders Who Ruined Africa, and the Generation Who Can Fix It.” The talk has been downloaded over 1 million times and is a powerful and inspiring manifesto for this, the African Century.

La Conferencia de las Naciones Unidas sobre el desarrollo sostenible denominada Rio+20 (Río de Janeiro 2012) emitió una extensa e ineficaz Declaración final. Las negociaciones internacionales no pueden avanzar significativamente por las posiciones de los países que privilegian sus intereses nacionales sobre el bien común global. Quienes sufrirán las consecuencias que nosotros intentamos disimular recordarán esta falta de conciencia y de responsabilidad. Mientras se elaboraba esta Encíclica, el debate ha adquirido una particular intensidad. Los creyentes no podemos dejar de pedirle a Dios por el avance positivo en las discusiones actuales, de manera que las generaciones futuras no sufran las consecuencias de imprudentes retardos.

Mrs. Henderson, Riley’s fifth-grade teacher, surveyed her class appraisingly. “Capital city of Brazil? Johnny?” “Rio de Janeiro,” Johnny answered quickly. Riley nearly shook her head, but stopped at the last minute. It was an easy mistake to have made, and nobody liked a smarty-pants. “No,” Mrs. Henderson replied. “Anybody else?” The class was silent. Riley wondered if any of the other students could name another city in Brazil. “How about you, Riley?” Riley sighed quietly. She briefly considered pretending she didn’t know the answer, but her mother had told her more than once that pretending to be something that you weren’t was the same as lying, and it was a terrible kind of lying, because it was lying to yourself. “Brasilia,” Riley answered. “That’s right,” Mrs. Henderson smiled. “I’m glad someone in this class has been paying attention.” Riley hadn’t been paying attention. She hadn’t even realized the lesson had moved from the geography of Europe to that of South America. She’d read about Brazil in a travel magazine her parents subscribed to. She toyed with her pen as Mrs. Henderson moved on to another South American country. She wanted to start writing, and to do it the way her great-grandfather had. She could put a story down in her notebook. If it was long enough, she might even fill two of them. Maybe someday she would even be published. The thought of seeing her own book on the shelf in a bookstore was just about the best thing she could think of.

Carioca is a demonym used to refer to the residents of Rio de Janeiro. The term originated as a mild insult to refer to the descendants of immigrants, but has evolved today to refer to any Rio native, and to membership in a distinct, coveted, moneyed lifestyle. “To be Carioca, you have to enjoy the beach and be casual in life,” one Brazilian told me. Another Rio resident defined Carioca this way: “You are social and friendly with everybody you meet.” Among the other definitions of a Carioca: Free-spirited. Not worrying too much about life. Letting things happen.

servers actually hacked the Pokemon go Server and made it dysfunctional for hours. 83. In India parents are allowing their children ton actually play the game as they are now visiting the temples and religious places which are Pokestops as the country is highly religious. 84. Countries with conflicting borders are extremely worried about the mapping of the game as they fear the as the governments fear that players might cross borders in search of pokemon.  85. Even Rio Olympics could not stay away from the Pokemon Go effect. It is believed that about 100 iPhones and around the same number of Android phones and cash along with other belongings were snatched and robbed from the hands of people who were moving about here and there in Ro De Janeiro in search of Pokémon's. 

Over the next thirteen years the viceregal capital, Rio de Janeiro, became the center of the Lusitanian world. It was a dual premiere: it was not only the first exodus overseas by a whole system of rule but the first time in the history of European maritime expansion that a ruling monarch had paid a visit to one of his colonies.

While Geyer was on the German steamship to Rio de Janeiro, his co-workers struggled to cope with intense emotions. The day after forty-five miners died in the Roslyn, Washington, explosion, Philadelphia suffered a tragedy of their own—one that would rock City Hall and its police force to its core.

opération. Et nous ne voulons pas de casse, ni chez vos hommes, ni pour nous, d’autant que Tel Aviv niera son implication si ça tourne mal. Mais, il y a moins de cinq ans, j’ai moi-même égorgé un responsable du Esbollah qui faisait partie de la liste de l’opération Colère de Dieu. Au passage, j’ai tué quatre de ses gardes du corps à l’arme blanche. Je vous rappelle, que nous sommes sous mandat direct de la Knesset, et qu’il s’agit justement d’une prolongation de Colère de Dieu. Les ordres donnés aux terroristes arabes à Munich en 72 l’ont été depuis ici. Donc, je viens. Je suis garante des compétences d’Eve, quant au jeune blanc bec derrière vous, Ezra, c’est notre meilleur homme de terrain. - Il nous faut une personne en support logistique, quoiqu’il arrive, conclut le militaire vexé. Donc, démerdez-vous comme vous voulez, à la courte paille si ça vous amuse. Mais, j’en emmène deux sur les trois. Pas les trois. - Au fait, ça vous sera probablement utile dit Eve, en tendant les plans et compte-rendu de Menouha. C’est assez parcellaire comme informations, mais, elle a quand même fait un bon boulot. 29 Août 1990 – Rio de Janeiro – Brésil Sarah préparait Thomas dans la salle de bain. - Il est où papa ? - Il est parti jouer au golf avec le monsieur qui nous a aidés à guérir ta sœur. - Il rentre quand ? - Ce soir. Nous, on va aller à la plage avec Chloé. Le petit garçon échappa aux mains de sa mère qui venait de lui enfiler son t-shirt et courut dans le salon. - Isabella, tu viens avec nous à la plage ? - Je ne sais pas mon grand, répondit la jeune infirmière. Maman veut peut-être rester seule avec ses deux bambins. - Non. Isabella, vous pouvez venir avec nous. Cela fera plaisir aux enfants, répondit Sarah depuis la salle de bain. Le temps était magnifique. Thomas courait devant, son ballon à la main, dans le sable blanc de la plage d’Ipanema. Sarah et Isabella portèrent Chloé qui arrivait maintenant à marcher sur des sols durs, mais pas encore dans le sable. Les deux jeunes femmes s’installèrent non loin de l’eau dans une zone surveillée par un maitre-nageur. Thomas s’était arrêté devant un petit groupe de brésiliens à peine plus vieux que lui qui jouait au football sur un terrain improvisé. Il aurait voulu jouer avec eux mais, il n’osait pas demander. Isabella s’approcha des enfants et en quelques mots leur fit comprendre qu’avec un joueur de plus, ils seraient en nombre pair, ce qui rendrait leur partie intéressante. - Mais, non… chuchota Thomas à l’oreille de la jeune infirmière. Regarde comme ils jouent bien. Ils vont se moquer de moi. - Je suis certaine que non. Et, puis, si c’est le cas et que ça ne te convient pas, tu auras toujours la possibilité de revenir nous voir sous le parasol. Mais, si tu n’essaies pas, si tu ne te confrontes pas à eux, tu ne sauras jamais s’ils étaient vraiment meilleurs que toi, s’il s’agit d’enfants moqueurs ou de futurs copains. Tu comprends petit Thomas. Il faut tenter. Prendre des risques, sinon, on n’apprend rien. Allez, va. Ils t’attendent...

Ölüm korkusu, yoğunlaştıkça siliniyor olmalıydı, mutsuzluk gibi.

José Bonifácio de Andrada e Silva, um homem sábio e experiente, defendia o fim do tráfico negreiro e a abolição da escravatura, reforma agrária pela distribuição de terras improdutivas e o estímulo à agricultura familiar, tolerância política e religiosa, educação para todos, proteção das florestas e tratamento respeitoso aos índios. Também já achava ser necessária a transferência da capital do Rio de Janeiro para algum ponto da região Centro-Oeste, como forma de estimular a integração nacional.

Our conversation was deep, so he lightened the mood in a second, finding an easy distraction in front of us – taking the call to join in with the cheering, and I followed. A Mexican wave got too big to ignore, pulling us to our feet, popping us out of our bubble, reminding us that we were not alone. But back down in our seats, our Gemini souls found more words, our minds unable to stop.

I was awestruck by Rio – the way the ocean, city and emerald mountains merged into each other and held hands.