Forte do Costelo, Cidade Vehla, the Shopping Center Iguatemi

Note to self: if you order 100 double-sided color copies in Belem without notice, a mere 45 minutes later you should expect 40 copies, black-and-white... but double-sided and delivered with a great smile and many obrigados. Thus started day 2. Success in my book.

Another success would be the decision to head to Cidade Velha (Old City), the oldest residential part of Belem. It was a colorful neighborhood, complete with street music that sounded to me like 1950s diner music in the United States... except in Portuguese and a lot more interesting. We wandered upon the Forte de Prespio, which was founded in 1616, and sits at the merger of the Rio Guama and the Baia do Guajara. Let me tell you this: this is the place to watch a storm come in- which it eventually did- sending us straight to....wait for it....the mall....wait for it...in a cab :(

Note to self: if you ask a Belem cab driver in Spanish what the favorite soccer team is, you'd better wait until the soccer game on the radio is inaudible due to the operation of the windshield wipers. But once you have his attention, he will be sure to tell you Payssandu is the team of choice and give the thumbs down to the two teams on the radio. Because those teams are losers, unlike Payssandu, which he described as similar in ability to the Boca Juniors of Buenos Aires. After sharing the love of soccer, it was to the mall! In the states, I would have been very upset with myself for such a blatant caving to consumerism, but this was an interesting place- if you like fishbowls and high-end goods. What I mean is that being African-American in Brazil has been an experience. People love the Obama, I can tell you that. However, if I were going to be honest with you- I felt on display at the Shopping Center Iguatemi, an elite consumer vaccuum of white noise, pizza hut and McDonald's cafe. Serves me right for entering, even if only to escape the rain. We debated whether people were looking at us or looking at me- we didn't reach a concensus, but in my 35 years of life, I've been able to tell when I'm the object. Then we discussed whether they were looking at my skin color or tattoos. Never got an answer to that one... but it didn't much matter when I went into the sporting store to ask for a Payssandu jersey. There is no color in soccer, except those of your favorite team's uniform.