a piece of string

this unique space saving waste bin is a must for every kitchen. the 'soft touch' closing makes opening a joy. and with the removable plastic inner bucket, it's even easy to clean. the special ventilation holes in the inner bucket prevent vacuum when removing the filled bin liner. the bin is made of durable corrosion-resistant materials. the plastic protective bottom rim prevents damage to the floor.

this, of course, is the description taken from the brabantia website. but i must say, being the proud owner of a brabantia 40L waste bin, the description is pretty accurate. it truly is a good and decent piece of design. it should thus be no surprise that the boyfriend thinks of this waste bin as my most valued possession in my apartment in amsterdam. he loves the simplicity of it. he loves the soft touch opening mechanism - which is exactly at the height of where your fingers are when standing up. well thought through.

and like the waste bin, the rest of the netherlands is well designed. everything has a function, a plan. no traffic light is out of place, no piece of cutlery is left untouched by the design police. every thing has a master plan behind it. the entire public space is designed, planned, re-ordered, re-mastered to suit the dutchmen's and -women's needs.

hm - how about rio de janeiro? well, if ever there was a master plan, it got lost. maybe somebody needed it to scribble a phonenumber on it. maybe a child folded it into an airplane or a hat. oh there is design, there are plans, there are ideas. but most of the time the plan is not entirely accomplished. or the plan itself is faulty. like building a clock but forgetting -or simply not bothering- to put the hands on it. or, like i have seen in the beautiful parque do flamengo, putting plans of a park all over the park, but not indicating anywhere on the map where you are. simple enough, no?

instead of design the cariocas rely on salsicha. salsicha means fixing your car with a piece of string, repairing a window with cardboard, propping up your bed on a pan, turning an empty can into a cup or a lamp or a vase or a piece of art or a radio. salsicha is the art of improvising. not just for a temporary solution, no for a permanent solution (well, or however long it takes for the piece of string to snap). in a way, salsicha is the ultimate anti-design.

so now, after a period of 2 weeks in a perfectly designed environment, i have come back into the realm of improvisation. of things being held together by strings, elastic bands, tape and goodwill.

but don't get me wrong. going from design to salsicha is not a step back. nor is it a step forward. it is a step to the side. for a society based on salsicha does ofcourse mean you sometimes get annoyed, because things do not work the way they could or should do. but it also means i have moved from a society where everything functions according to a plan to a city where everything is a possibility; an invitation to be creative, a chance to do things your way. i traded a country where even spontaneity requires a -well designed- form to be filled in for an urban jungle with little rules, and what little rules there are can never stop the music and the joy and the people from simply happening. so what if it is held together by a piece of string?

gold medal

always when i see the statue of christ in rio (cristo redentor) i think he is about ready to jump into the bay of botafogo, make a beautiful double summersault and a twist - or whatever the professional terms are for it - and dive into the blue water with a tiny little splash.

better yet would be ofcourse if he would land on the water and walk away. if that does not give him a gold medal, what would?

random rumbers

who doesn't like lists? they give you the feeling that you're in control. so, here's a list of random numbers, composed back in amsterdam after 6 weeks in rio.

88228535 - my telephone number in rio. something tangible and real. a connection to the outside world. several numbers already stored in the memory - the careful beginnings of a new circle of friends.

1000's - sandgrains i brought back to the apartment from ipanema beach. they're everywhere. in my clothes, my bag, my book. sometimes one wonders how it is possible that there is any beach left, what with so many visitors to the beach each bringing back home so much sand. slowly the whole of rio ought to turn into one big beach.

702 - the apartment number where i have been living the past 6 weeks. where i have been writing my previous blogs. where i have woken up with a hang-over. where i have learned to like my boyfriends strange, favorite breakfast (mashed bananas with oats). where carlos has woken me up during carnaval with coffee - and coca cola. where a certain mike has stayed over. and carol, after the manu chao concert. where i have felt lonely, watching the godfather parts 1 and 2, whilst the boyfriend was away in far far away curitiba (eventhough i could still appreciate the quality of the films). where i have felt so hot. where i have solved quite a few sudoku's. where i have not been able to enter a certain night, because the boyfriend had lost the key. where we have been living in the dark for 2 days because we got cut off from electricity. where i have made a start.

123 - the favorite busline of the boyfriend and me. for a mere R$2,20 (€0,75) it is a true tourist attraction. open the windows and enjoy the fresh air in your face. the 123 races from the centre past the flamengo parc and the beaches of flamengo, botafogo and copacabana - straight to ipanema.

41 - degrees celcius. the hightest temperature in rio since i arrived so far.

30 - protection factor of the sunlotion i use. i want to stay nice and white - and also: not get skincancer.

5 - entrance fee in reais to the botanical garden. a true tropical paradise. in a city with too much noise and dirt it is a blessing to have a place where you can get away from it all. and eventhough i did not get to see the monkeys that i was promised by the guidebook, i did get to see squirles and orchids. nice too.

2 - number of keys gone missing. 1 lost by the boyfriend, 1 stolen from me.

0 - regrets i have so far of this adventure.