The complete fail of the Brazilian purse


It is absolutely unacceptable that, in country notable for its citizen being highly subject to several forms of violence and crime by simply walking out the door – where the most notable and common form or crime are known to be wallet, phone, handbag and purse theft (aforementioned executed mostly in a clever and concealed manner by experienced criminals) – all the purses, handbags, clutches, backpacks and akin are poorly executed and offer little if no protection against these thieves.
You will hardly (if at all) find a carrying device that has a double zipper that allows you to use a lock. All handbags have a very regular zipper that has the blind end sticking out out the bag, leaving a gap underneath that may be used not only as a way to steal from your bag, but also as a way to throw something inside your bag without your permission (hey, we live in the terrorism ages). Most carrying devices closing mechanisms are nothing but a magnet button. Or no button at all. No need to say that no bags come without a lock.
A special attention should be given to the bags meant to be used specifically at the beach, a very popular item between Brazilian women. These are as open as they can. They have a closing mechanism just good enough to keep things from flying outside due the the wind in the beaches. they do not protect against sand, and they do not hide and protect your goods at all. It’s just all out there, semi-hanging outside the purse in the open for everyone to see and steal as they like.
As you can now see, it’s not only the Brazilian people, the Brazilian economics and the Brazilian politicians that are unreliable.
Unless you live in a country with nearly zero crime rate and/or wish a purse/wallett/backpack/handbag for decorative or souvenir reasons only, do not buy Brazilian designed and made handbags and alikes.



Catharsis – Desabafo


In order for this to flow properly I had to write in my first language, that is, Brazilian Portuguese.

Antes de qualquer coisa: não escrevo este post para posar de viajada cosmopolita fajuta. É só um desabafo.

Toda vez que eu volto pro Brasil eu fico homesick. Mas não é homesick de acordo com e significado americano. É o contrário, porque eu só me sinto em casa, de verdade, estando lá fora. Toda vez que eu saio da Brasil, a pior parte é voltar. Eu jamais sinto saudade. Eu nunca tenho vontade de voltar pra cá. O único sentimento que eu sinto em relação ao Brasil é medo, vergonha e tristeza. Nunca como em todos os lugares para os quais eu viajei eu me senti tão à vontade, tão livre, tão cidadã, tão respeitada, tão ser humano, tão SEGURA, tão bem-quista, tão parte de uma sociedade de bem, que tem valores em comum com os meus.



Back home again…


Just arrived from a trip to Israel w/a pit stop in Zürich.


Out of all memories the traveler brings along when returning from a trip, my dearest is an unlikely one:  the feeling of being safe and free.


Having been assaulted many times and witness to countless acts of violence, it’s no secret I’m greatly distressed over the problem of violence in Brazil. Yet, even I myself wouldn’t suspect I was stressed to such a high degree.  Returning from Israel and Switzerland, my fondest memories are those of being able to open the door of your house without prior surveiling for random thugs in the surroundings. You can actually walk side by side with people without thinking they are too close and would pull a gun or knife on you. You don’t have to hold your handbag in intricate ways that would make sailor’s knots look amateur. You can actually go out alone in the streets at night. You don’t have to watch out for the shadows behind you, you don’t have to change your path or take an unlikely shortcut or enter some food place or whatever is in front of you just because there is a likely bandit following you. You don’t have to stand fucking crack-heads. You can actually use your watch and your jewelry. You can use your laptop and cell phone out in the streets. You don’t need to have your place protected by electrified fences, personal security guard, 5 locks in the main door. You don’t feel caged in your own private apartment prison when all the bad guys are out there free, laughing at you, just waiting for you to go out so they can party on you all night.


Of course I’m not naive to think these things only happen here and not anywhere else. But in here it happens to an extent and degree 6,02×10²³ higher than in any other place daring to call itself  “civilized”.


I nearly cried when I stepped foot back in Sao Paulo and caught myself doing the habitual survelliance again… 🙁
Being very serious, I advise anyone to consider all this before remotely considering a visit to Brazil.


I really love my country, but feeling safe is priceless.



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