Guitar Picks

Some of the girls from Asia were going shopping the third day. I took the elevator with them. I had talked to the man at the dock earlier about where to buy guitar picks, and he told me to try a store called Prima Vera right up on the square near the elevator.

One of them stopped to take a picture with a street performer provided by the city. Right after we turned the corner, I saw the store. I told them that was all I wanted to find, and that I was going to go back afterward, and they didn’t need to stay with me. I went in and I showed the people there the picks from Nick in my wallet because I didn’t know how to say it in Portuguese, and they showed me their selection. They were overpriced, but they were pretty. Whatever.

I walked back afterward.

I didn’t have anything on me. No camera, hardly any money in my wallet. I can’t even remember if I brought anything other than the money I needed and my ID card. I don’t think I did. The stories of all the muggings scared me a good bit and I didn’t feel like taking any chances if I didn’t have too.

I remember the German professor telling me at dinner to walk around with a plastic shopping bag instead of a backpack so you’ll look more like a local and less like a tourist. That made sense, though I never had to do it myself. I did tell friends though.

There’s a Japanese population in Brazil and so people know some basic Japanese, kinda like the way that Americans know how to say shalom. A lot of people who saw Xiao and Tien and the others would say konichiwa to them, thinking they must be Japanese people who lived there. That probably made the Chinese ones pretty upset. I thought it was interesting.