Un-Amazonia

If I stand out on the balcony of this hotel room, on the corner of Jau and Lobo, I can see unevenly tall buildings in the distance and the forefront.  On the roof of one building there are trees topped with reddish blooms.  Along the fence of another are clothes hanging out, presumably to dry, although it is overcast and a bit misty today.  Dr. Seuss-looking potted palms stand on the roof of a concrete-colored building, and to my right is a large shade tree set amidst short, dense cottages with orange tiled roofs.  One building is pink, another is yellow with blue accents, one about a block away is bright white and reminds me of a cruise ship that you'd see on the Mississippi.  As far as my eyes can see, there are buildings.  

It is Manhattan times ten.

Our flight into Sao Paulo was the most jarring flight I have ever taken.  As soon as we entered the Gulf, the plane began jerking side to side, and then lurching down and back up again, only to rest for a moment, and then resume the same dance.  At one point, I looked to my right and saw two men with British accents holding their cups of coffee out in front of them, trying to keep them from spilling on their preppy white pants.  I laughed out loud, and then hoped they didn't think I was laughing at them.

In part, I was laughing because I used to fear flights like this.  Any touch of turbulence sent my hands gripping the inadequate armrests, and my mind rushing to the horrible thought of death.  Not to mention my heart, which pounded so hard it blurred my vision.  I would look around at the stewardesses and wonder why they weren't running for their lives, even though there was no where to run.  

Not this time.  I found myself amused by the jiggling airplane, amused by the absurdity of all of us up there, enduring this sky-quake just to leave where we were to go somewhere else.  I even smiled at the thought, especially as we were passing over Amazonia, of falling from the sky.  Imagine landing on the bed of green jungle below.  What a place to perish.

When I wasn't pointlessly trying to sleep, I was reading "Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind" by Shunryu Suzuki, one of my favorite teachers.  The last sentence I read before we landed was:

"Just to practice zazen and put ourselves into the oven is our way."

Welcome to Brasil!