Dear Son-of-a-bitch Who Stole My Bike....

This was my actual bike

To the stupid a**hole who stole my bike yesterday while it was parked (AND LOCKED) in front of a busy finance office on Praia de Botafogo where I was giving a class for only ONE HOUR, please kindly burn in hell.

I don't want to believe you stole my R$1000 bike to sell her parts for R$50 to support your drug habit.  I want to believe that you desperately needed a bike because you can't afford the bus.  Because you needed a way to get your kids to school.  Because you wanted to be a delivery boy and it was the only way to get the job.  I want to give you the benefit of the doubt that you weren't just a stupid jackass and believed, for some reason, that you were entitled to what was mine, just because it was left locked and unattended.

Am I the sucker here?  I locked my bike.  Why do I feel so guilty?  Like I didn't lock it enough... like I should have put two locks on it.  Or I should have tried harder to find a garage to put it in.  Like I got too comfortable and this was just a bit of reality stabbing me in the kidney just to put me back on the right track.  The track of fear and mistrust.  I hate this feeling.  I want to be able to trust people and to live in a safe place where I can leave my bike locked on the sidewalk in front of a busy building and trust that nobody will steal it.  I want to at least trust that a bystander on the street would see a guy with BOLT CUTTERS cutting the lock off my bike and try to stop him...

I've been told, and I believe, that I've been very lucky living here for almost 2 years.  I've never had any kind of trouble with theft, or even with suspicious people.  I take the bus alone. I take my IPhone out on the bus.  I walk through tunnels.  Things that people constantly tell me not to do, I do.  Because wtf!  I don't want to have to give up my right to freedom!  Sometimes I swear that if I were robbed I would not give in easily.  But again, I've never actually been in that situation so I can't say for sure how I would react.  In my 'robbing fantasy" (yes, I have fantasies about being robbed - well, they're more like daydreams) I always grab the guys' weapon and scream "No! You give me YOUR money!" and they get scared and run away and I'm a hero.

But I dunno.... I can't really trust that I'll follow through on that... especially since everyone who comments here will say "Are you crazy!  Just give him everything he wants!"  I know, I know.... 'thing's aren't worth your life'.  I agree.  I just feel so pissed that my husband worked so hard, saved his money for months, bought and surprised me with this beautiful blue bike, and some jackass comes along and takes it.

Probably to sell for R$50 to support his drug habit.  Prove me wrong, thief.  Return my bike and prove me wrong!

Here are some pics of me enjoying some beautiful days on my bike.... Tear!  I love you my beautiful bicycle!

I Heart My Bike

Inspired by Danielle's blog about her quest for an appropriate gym, I thought I'd share some of the exercise in which I've been partaking. 

I won't even bother with the details of our gym search in our new place in Jacarepagua (like how one gym doesn't even LET you do several necessary exercises, or how one gyms equipment was practically falling apart and ripping the skin from my thighs).  No, I will not bother with that.

We did find a gym that is pretty good.  We're happy enough (even though they close on Sundays, blast!).  It's decent. 

But sometimes it's hard to go... Y'know we're tired after work, I'm too fat and lazy... blah blah blah!  We were also pretty used to getting around via bicicleta in Canada so we bought ourselves some bikes to make the trip to the gym easier (irony???) and just to generally get around. 

Lately, Ro took it upon himself to be CRAZY and start biking to work.  When I say crazy, I mean really out of his mind.  It's about a 16 km ride each way.  Throw in there a day of work and you got yourself one crazy mo-fo.  So, logically, I was jealous (as I usually am when he starts doing more exercise than me).  I got myself so jealous-ed up that I decided "Fine!  You wanna ride to work?  I'M gonna ride to work!"  Right.  Totally logical and sane and not at all obsessively competitive. 

So today was my first bike ride to work.  It's definitely less distance but still about 10-11 km each way.  My class starts at 7am which meant leaving the house at 6am.  I had my bag packed... my little flat shoes and cardigan tucked inside, my music ready, a towel to absorb all the buckets of sweat sure to come out of my face and armpits and probably butt. 
Oh shush, you know your butts get sweaty.  Try sitting down after a workout and see if there's not a sweat stain on that seat.  If there isn't, you didn't work hard enough!

Ahem.  Pardon me.  So I ride.  And about 30 seconds in I ride over some glass!  Then I think the tire is leaking air.  It didn't look that flat before, did it?  I panic.  I almost actually just give up, right there, after 30 seconds.  The fastest give up ever!  I call Ro.  He tells me to put air in the tire.  I whine I've never put air in the tire before!  He says it's ridiculously easy.  I whine, maybe to you, you've done it before! 
(P.S.  It IS ridiculously easy... perhaps the one thing that Brazil has that is far easier than N. America!) 

Moving on.  I figured out how to put the air and I'm happy again.  I ride.  As I ride, I pass many men who are on there way to work.  I laugh at how 'prepared' I am for this bike ride and how these guys are biking in flip flops and bent up tires.  Seriously bent up.  Every guy I pass looks at me and about half of them ding their wimpy little bells and kiss at me.  Brrrring brrrrrring!  One guy passes wearing a drywall mask and a towel on his head and gives me a long, heart-felt brrrrrrrrring!  How did he know that paper-masked men ringing bicycle bells are what really get me excited???  I was feeling preeeeetty confident after that one!

When I finally arrive at my students' office, I am literally a hot, sweaty mess.  But the trip took longer than I thought so I had to run in without a chance to rinse off.  After sitting in a plastic chair for an hour in the same pants I rode in in... what do you think I left behind?  A big, embarrassing, sweaty butt mark! 

But I did feel pretty freaking awesome so I'm afraid my student will have to endure my sweatiness... at least once a week. 

Moral of the story. 
Biking is...
good for your soul
good for your legs
good for the environment
good for your stress

Biking is...
bad for your butt (sweat)
bad for your students' chair
bad for your student in general
bad for your ego (or do I mean good? wink wink)

Moral of the moral = Get a bike!