Moving on to my weekend, saturday after lifting I was hanging up some laundry when I was approached by a few Ecuadorian girls staying at the house. We have god knows how many people (12-15?) from Ecuador staying here on the other side of the house for a week or two. They seem pretty friendly, and a few of them know some basic english, while the rest know none.
We see them in the afternoon class sometimes, but other than that they seem to keep to themselves and as do us Gringos... So there's a bit of pointless segregation going on; at least this is the worthy cause that I adopted in order to justify saying yes when three latin chicks ask me to join them for a drink.
They told me to invite everyone else, I did, but nobody seemed interested. **** it, I'd go alone and just embrace the awkward if I had to. Luckily I convinced one guy to come along, and slowly the gringos came out of their shells and trickled in to join us.
The bar was pretty awkward at first. Keep in mind that I've spent the last two months honing my ability to flirt with girls in Portuguese, and now I have to flip a switch and try it in Spanish. Difficult. I had to learn French in middle school in Canada, then I switched to Spanish in highschool, I forgot both almost entirely until I came here and now those two have been popping up in my head since I've started with the Portuguese. The end result of this is a cluster**** of three languages floating around in my mind when I try to put together the most simple of phrases. Luckily with some beers I started to trust my instincts and could at least say a couple words in Spanish to try to contribute. As the night went on we all warmed up real well despite the language barriers, and ended up drinking until the sun came up. The girls, no joke, wanted to keep going into the morning. I literally got drank under the table by some small latina girls.
Then they didn't want to go home! They wanted to jump on a random bus and just ride it around town. Crazy girls. We managed to drag them to el casa as full daybreak hit.
This afternoon I woke up feeling like a 70 year old man. Dehydrated, underslept, outdrank, and sore from completing a tedious full body workout the evening before. I logged into facebook (part of my wake up routine where I delay getting out of bed for as long as I can) and low and behold, I've been punked.
I'll skip the explanation and just link you guys instead
The rest of today was just euphoric. I laughed my ass off over that fanpage all the way through lunch and then headed back to the beach for our third consecutive day of perfect weather. Today was especially windy and there was a ton of people doing parachute surfing (parasurfing?). This looks like probably the best water sport ever... hear me out. You have all the perks of regular surfing; cutting over blue waves, looking like a badass in front of onlooking Brazilian women in glorified lingerie...but with none of the paddling, the balancing, or the falling. I will master this endeavor.
Sitting at the beach today, the bigger picture really started to click for me. Fighting or not fighting, I think long term travel is going to be an enormous part of my life. Whether I make it into the UFC or fall flat on my face in my first professional fight, isn't going to affect that I'm going to live a interesting and fulfilling life. I've decided to look into T.E.S.L. Certification classes so that I can sustain myself while I travel. I'd love to go to Holland and train at Overeems gym. Or Korea and Japan.
I'd really love to live in Brazil one day again too... I have no doubt I'll be back. While we're daydreaming we could look at the possibility that in 6 years I could very possibly be able to represent Canada in the summer Olympics here in Rio for their trial run of BJJ. Would I do well? **** no. But Canada is hardly a talent rich country for BJJ, and in 6 years I could be in Brown/Black belt territory if I applied myself. It's not something I'm counting on, but it could very well play out!