Last week in Sao Paulo I had an encounter with one of the most charming men I met in my life. I was introduced to him by very close friends who know me deeply and emphatically endorsed him to me. I was very curious with such vehemence and insistence and always fascinated when chased I ended up accepting this determined, mysterious, meticulously planned invitation.

The meeting was a pure manifestation of powerful seduction and mutual magnetism that ended up in a strange state of emotional confusion and evasive daydreaming. Both observed each other moves, carefully and meticulously challenged in order not to loose and certainly gain rules or control. Mistakes in this introductory first impression battlefield were for sure not allowed and the chase and future conquest promised to be too interesting.

The witnesses around us were watching breathless a play of an intricate chess game were the moves were certain and repeatedly tested in several previous lives. Our souls scanning, attentive observance of our physical actions constantly took place; looks were rigorous and intensely profound. Both of our at times tenuous at times stronger role positions won and lost several rounds, and the exchange seemed to be equally balanced. At the end, as a risk taker, I decided to give him some advantage and see how far and where he would go.

Like the most renewed Kurdish Muslim Sultan Saladin warrior from Tikrit, he offered me and his friends hospitality in his house, like if we were in a Palace. We, his guests of honor, and me as a princess on the inevitable direction to be worshiped like a queen. He changes his clothes, dances and invites his friends to dance with him, offers fresh drinks and emanates inviting scents from incense, the music is involving, he translates lyrics and poems, the words, just pure magic. He seduces in Portuguese but Arabic is in the subtitles. Venetian, African, Greek and English are the pieces of art surrounding us spinning around in a harmoniously conquered space and lounge in the Sao Paulo neighborhood of Jardins. He explains his artwork and whispers in my ear that he is from the desert and shares his dreams of human unity, noble values and visions with me.

Like the founded Egypt, Syria, Yemen, Iraq and Mecca, I definitely surrender to his strategy. I decide to believe everything he says about my “watched aura” being beautiful, true, enlightened; he says he feels me, knows I am protecting myself and, like his final pray, the kingdom of Jerusalem, I am defending myself more than the 88 years of the Crusades; in just a few 30 minutes I am about to give him partial victory and before total loss I ask him on time to escort me safely back home.

He agrees and, as Saladin the Sultan, Prince of Islam, known for his chivalry and merciful nature, he is a man of honor, leaves in my hand a DVD called “Harem, a Desert Fantasy” from the English Soprano Sara Brightman with his hand-written note of a remembrance of happy moments together as a commonly agreed “term” of release giving me space and time to go back to the US intact and protected like the weakened and defeated citizens of Jerusalem.

The next day my mind wanders… the mystics of this warrior of peace and while going to walk on a fashion show of a friend of mine who is launching a clothes’ collection from Morocco called Noor (Light) in Arabic, he appears two minutes, while I am getting changed, with another DVD, the “Kingdom of Heaven” about the Crusades, sends me a deep intense look, leaves as quickly as he appeared and wishes me a safe flight back home.

Jael was a biblical figure that killed Sisera to deliver tyrannized Israel from the cruel troops of King Jabin. She lived in the desert, like many other women in gypsy-like tents, as a good gypsy named Joelle (Jael in Hebrew), I decide to quickly consult my Cabbalistic Tarot cards before the fashion show begins… What this encounter means to me? Who is this man in my life?

The cards show “The Tower”… a card about war between a strong structure of lies and the lightning flash of truth. Representation of imminent danger without a comeback.
A mission of a free gypsy wandering among tents or of a queen in a magnificent and luxurious palace?
Before I go out to the street catwalk wearing intricate slave gypsy style sandals, jewelry and embroidered Moroccan Berber Caftan and skirt I recall the story of audacious Jael, a protector of her people, the Israelites.

Makes me think that both Saladin and Jael have something to share being courageous warriors of peace within their own surroundings and people… one in palaces the other in tents, each of them meticulously seduce, with strategic intelligence and extremely dangerous kindness; they both diligently achieve their goals. Their cause is always for the good even if conquering cruelty is sometimes needed, knowing that someone has to do what’s necessary while others don’t have the courage or take responsibility on their acts.

Visionaries? Missionaries? May be, but they are “Warriors of Light,” as Brazilian writer Paulo Coelho would call them, and of unity for sure.

It’s getting late, I must run, the guests are waiting for me… I am walking slowly under Sao Paulo sun dreaming of the Sinai Desert… at least I am free, He’s gone…

Suddenly, biip, blip my Pearl Blackberry texts a message for me:

“You were beautiful… wonderful, irradiating luminous energy and happiness around you, I am having lunch with a friend in the countryside thinking of you…”

But for God Sake where is he?

This post is certainly dedicated to this man that made me surrender to his charm in the smartest and most calculated way… Him and his incredible vision are in my mind.

But, my gypsy heart belongs to what is my real destiny. Time will tell. Enchallah.
Related links:

The Music: Natasha Atlas “Light of Life” Ibelin reprise from movie soundtrack King of Heaven

The lyrics “LA ILLAHE ILALLAH” from the Koran “There is no other lord worth worshipping than God”
The books: http://www.amazon.com/Women-Bible-Jaels-Story-Novel/dp/0451217896

http://www.amazon.com/Warriors-God-Richard-Lionheart-Saladin/dp/0385495625

The talks:

http://www.technorati.com/tags/Saladin

The store: http://www.adrianabittencourt.com.brThe movie:

http://www.apple.com/trailers/fox/kingdom_of_heaven/theatrical_small.htmlp://www.apple.com/trailers/fox/kingdom_of_heaven/theatrical_small.html

The 3D animation:

http://www.metacafe.com/watch/122895/saladin_animation_movie_trailer/cafe.com/watch/122895/saladin_animation

I’ve lived almost half of my life in São Paulo.

It was in a beautiful house in a neighborhood called Morumbi. There were cooks, other staff members, dogs, turtles, gardeners, parrots from the Amazon, coffee beans shrubs, personal trainers, computer trainers, dog trainers, orchids, a pool, Nandinas trees, spice pepper trees and anything that you could imagine. It was a perfect and suspended platform on top of the city, a small Brazilian Shangri-la. I was protected and treated like a princess and my orders were executed like the ones of a powerful queen. I was surrounded 24 hours a day, by an intimidating, aggressive and well trained army of security to preserve my agenda and make sure that any unplanned outside interference would not disturb my perfect, structured and established life.

One day when the trees grew, the orchids bloomed, the kids matured, the house beautifully aged and harmoniously functioned I heard a call; the call of my gypsy soul. I started traveling around the globe using to my Brazilian store as a trampoline to look for the answers and reasons of that call. Other people and different cultures were constantly teaching me their philosophies and way of life, my clients were continuously and increasingly thirsty of my wanderings through the world and their quench for products that I would bring from those distant lands were the result of the constant ’sold out’ stickers on the store shelves.

The rooms of my house would constantly change according to the last destinations of my trips, there was a general family unsecured expectation about my returns with “what is she going to change now?”

After my trips to Bangkok, my bathroom would transform itself into a Thai spa, after Jaipur, the bedroom into a small and cozy sanctuary, Africa would suddenly influence my white work desk becoming a symbol of fertility and wealth. But as a gypsy, my caravan changed, and working on a speed limit of the law of technology, I discovered that I had to have a faster way to be and live. Wanting to be everywhere at the same time I realized that time and space were just an illusion, and that call was telling me more and more about changes that had to take place in my life.

While my mother followed my route through maps or on National Geographic TV shows and asked concerned through long phone conversations:” Qu’est ce que tu cherche, ma cherie? (What are you looking for sweetheart?) I visited countries like Burma, China, Japan, Thailand, Argentina, India, Israel, Africa, Colombia, most of Europe, Egypt, Polinesia, Usa, Mexico, Brazil, Greece, Turkey and many others. (You can check in my website more than 250 pictures are available in the “Joelle at work photo gallery” section.) http://www.joelle.com.br/en/photo_gallery1.htm

Continuously listening to the a call of my spirit that needed dramatically to be free, I kept a diary mostly all my life and now I understood that this diary had to have a voice, the Joellelifestyle project, for the simple sake of helping others manifest what they feel about themselves, were and how they would like to live, and their internal spaces or homes to be.

My personal life today has changed, I consider myself a ’Technomad’ a term coined by Steven Roberts to describe a nomadic person who remains connected through online nomadic living. It’s also about the intelligent home living where soon the consecration of the cocoon effect will be transformed in a high-tech cavern customized to our personal needs through technology like biometric digital and electronic codes identification of our own and unique dna, eye iris, voice, fingerprint. Wireless domestic equipments and safety security detectors will protect us from unwanted intrusions. The ideal is to link this concept to the one of Nature, beauty and aesthetics, emotional wellbeing, physical and spiritual health.

I decided this time, due to a short trip from New York to my Sao Paulo, to test a new approach of living 36 hours in the way most of the technomads live today. I picked the hotel Emiliano, realizing that I could be able to work, receive guests, socialize, relax, listen to music and have the lifestyle that perfectly reflects the speed in witch I am operating and at the same time be nurtured with everything I need in my very different hectic and agitated agenda. While Felipe Silva the Emiliano’s sales manager and I chat about the world’s new concept of modern living regarding articularly the new hotel’s concept and their integrated condos, others guests, arrives and sits down around the same rectangular elegant African Zebrano table designed by Arthur Mattos Casas (along with the rest of the hotel) gently asking us, if he and his team were interfering in our conversation by watching a social campaign of Bahia in the large plaza screen TV in front of us. The 36 hours passed in a second, just the way I personally need to live, I successfully managed to do it all and above everything else, I also enjoyed my stay.

I am taking in serious consideration that to live among the simplicity of the brothers Campanas’s furniture design, doing business in a wi-fi hi-tech environment, recharge in a Zen-like rooftop spa, savour connoisseur food, and socially connect with a friendly and sophisticated surrounding might be my new all year-round personal project commitment to live in style in the Brazilian and already global city of Sao Paulo.

A message for the International investors in Brazil, just watch me!!!

Related Links:

The Hotel: http://www.emiliano.com.br/emiliano.html
The Designer: http://www.arthurcasas.com.br
The Furniture Design: http://www.designboom.com/eng/interview/campana_mov.html
The web site: http://www.joelle.com.br/

Gwen Stefane is a super chick!

Maryline Monroe blond look, super thin, white skin, dark red lipstick, dressing her own brand of chlothes, Gwen fritters glamour away. She is dramatically luxurious and chick! Her new MTV hit, Luxurious, composed together with the rapper Slim Thug is a smash. She dresses like Carmen Miranda, her belly button showing through her small belly’s flowers, leaves and nothing else. What matters is her elegant and soft attitude moving around. Words are ludicrous and banal, but the scent of luxury comes out of the TV and invades the surroundings. My connection of the week is with luxury, luxury is luxury when unusual, especially if you contact it by chance.

I’ll explain … I planned to have lunch with my Kabbalah teacher at a lunch house at the corner of Peixoto Gomide street and Alameda Lorena. Ten minutes ahead of time, I decide to stop ant take a look at a new small shoe store. Thou hungry, I decide to forget my hunger and choose half dozen crochet sandals, with ropes, without ropes, with jewels, with laces, without laces, panther skin, daring, audacious, simply haute couture. Psychologically conditioned to eat french-fries and hamburger, I enter the store with an Ali Baba cave decoration wanting a lot to behave just like the 40 thieves and take everything with me.

If you go out shopping carrying your credit-cards and checks at any elegant avenue of any large metropolis in this cosmopolitan world and find what I found, yes, it is luxurious, but find this small masterpieces of art in the middle of a regular day routine, yes it is really a luxury.

The concept of luxury was lately assessed, redefined and exploited. Some may express it as being the proper management of our time – since time is currently considered a commodity. It has to do with the emotion provided by any given action.

I like to define it as a privilege; the privilege of being in contact with something energetically and almost supernatural of any type of creative process. Luxuries are then the hours spent weaving, dyeing, sewing, admiring a well-resolved work that sometimes, depending on the intention, goes beyond all expectations for it speaks by itself.

It is the awareness of contacting something that provides the soul with a proper emotion, like going to a museum and appreciating something that one does not necessarily need to acquire with money, and then why not, the experience of sensually touching something that other hands touched when producing it. i

The Kabalists calls the world of matter Malkhut, or the fallen feminine aspect of God. Gwen Stefani compares with intelligence her boy-friend lap to a confortable limousine, and to be elegant to the way of conducting their passion as it multipies.

Regarding me… now that I had a breath of urban art, I will order a cheese salad casher, nothing more luxurious for a hungry soul.

Related Links:
http://www.francescagiobbi.com.br

“O God, save the queens
It’s our party and I’ll cheer
Now is the time, my love,
Perola Negra is here
The show will start.”

These are some of the lyrics of the song that the members of the School-of-Samba Perola Negra (Black Pearl) are learning every Sunday evening at 8 o’clock in a warehouse at the Vila Madalena a neighborhood near my office.

The theme for the 2006 parade is a homage to all women as divine creations deserving the right to be queens.

The lyrics are about several queens of different civilizations and cultures all over the world. Among them: the Queen of Darkness, a Halloween witch; the Queen of Tarot and her divination’s; the Queen of Drums with her faithful squadrons; the Queen of Sabah in the heart of King Salomon; Hyppolita, the Queen of the Amazon, a courageous warrior with a powerful belt; the Queen of Egypt, Cleopatra, sensual and enigmatic like the Naja, her snake companion; the Night Queen; Iemanja, Queen of the Sea (one of my favorite,) and many others like the queens of the Bee, Chess, Fairy, Flower, and Hortencia, that although a name of a flower is the Brazilian Basketball Queen. To end the long list, Carmen Miranda, the greatest Queen of all queens of the Carnival folly.

Schools of Samba are not like a regular teaching institution. A School of Samba is an association of people generally from a same neighborhood, usually part of the working class community (or favela) in a suburban area. They meet together regularly for samba rehearsals and nights. These Schools of Samba provide valuable jobs to the community, employing people year-round to produce costumes and big floats. The school PerolaNegra will be dancing in the avenue in the heart of the city of Sao Paulo on February 26 as the 7th school out of 9.
It was founded in 1973 after the merging of the Academic School of Samba of Vila Madalena and the carnaval block Bocas das Bruxas (Witches Mouth) and was named after a bottle of black pearl beer over a bar table. To be honest with you I can really barely wait for carnival time.

Since last month, every little bar and hidden neighborhood is already in the mood of the great folly. I was invited to watch them rehearse and as you can already see I am right there figuring out which ”fantasia” or costume I am going to wear. If I want to work hard to represent the school on the avenue in this fierce competition I will probably go out in the “wing” of Iemanja, the Queen-Goddess of the sea.

I marched once in Rio in a school called Grande Rio, and my kids were very annoyed when I told them it had been one of the greatest emotions of my life almost like giving birth or getting to walk through the aisle of the synagogue on your own wedding.

Therefore, at this point, I wish you all get this amazing experience at least once in your lifetime –if you’re not ready yet to be part of it every single year…. Think it over. After all, you still have a little time left to become a king or a queen of a kingdom that you can pick up in few minutes to live in for five great fairy dreamlike days and never forget it for the rest of your life.

Let then the poet Vinicius de Morais sing for us to remind.

To place a reservation of your “fantasia”, on the phone is (55 11) 7712-5344 and talk to Edilson.

Yesterday, staying with a friend of mine, I was about to finish my breakfast when I heard her from the living room say, “I am leaving J. Have a nice day. By the way, Ricky Martin is in town.” The sip of tea that passed through my lips and through bounced back to my mouth.

”What do you mean he’s in town?” I run after her but I only manage to find an empty elevator…. How can she go away on me with such news! Ok then, I’ll check in the blessed internet. Apparently they have been announcing the show for the last month at the Credit Card Hall and nobody has ever told me! I immediately bought the last two tickets on line,(I’ll surely find company) not caring about row or seat number – this one is the only show, and believe me my friends, I would never miss it for anything in the world.

The problem is that today Sao Paulo is in one of those days like in New York: when it rains everything stops. And today is not just raining, it is pouring. But again, I don’t care, Ricky will against all odds be under my sight in just a few hours.

I leave my office after making a few phone calls trying to figure out who’ll be going to the show, and apparently nobody I know will. ”Well…. he is not exactly my cup of tea – Yes I heard about but I am not that motivated – Of course I’d love to go, but Pearl Jam is here – Are you nuts? Under this rain??” Finally my housekeeper’s daughter, my hostess and I get in a car for a long journey under a heavy storm to a distant place named Credit Card Hall.

I decide to wear something pretty and festive in case HE by accident decides to gaze or just notice me. But at my arrival I realize that I have a lot of competition; most girls around me are wearing a “la Vida Louca look” ready to jump into a ballroom or on stage if invited. Men and women share the same passion as mine, that dramatic latino-sexy style. Gel on the hair for the men, low waist broken jeans, open shirts for all, crosses, cigarettes, high heel sandals and stilettos, strass, red lipsticks, wet hair …Wow! I feel I am a bit in South Beach Miami.

Ricky appears behind a fabric curtain full of believe it or not, OM’s (God) symbols from India at a gentle rhythm melody of an Indian tune on an electric guitar announcing his entrance on stage. Therefore I really don’t know if I have to faint now and loose part of the show or just do it when I get back home. Obviously he is singing just for me.

I must tell you, independently of your liking his music or not, Ricky is a master when it comes to producing a show. A huge background stage lights panel transform the energy and space around with different designs and patterns varying from Japanese warriors and geishas to African cheetahs and electronic video game heroes. He manages to melt the detail of light and design technology with the romantic sounds of songs like Te Extraño, Talvez and Si Tu Te Vas. Ricky wears a black band on his hair, a sleeveless shirt proudly showing his well-defined muscles in his shoulders while he carries you through the mysticism of a flamenco group drum session. He feels, moves and breaths every beat with his voice and expression clearly perceivable in the two gigantic screens placed on each side of the hall.

The energy spread through the fans goes to a climax when, yes, he threats to take out his incredible strass black shirt to show what we all know is underneath…. don’t ask me to describe the tanned look of his skin – whatever I say would never be enough. Apart from being a great professional, he is more gorgeous than ever with very well trimmed beard and a strong conscious and powerful innocence in his face that makes you understand how much he really knows about life. Life is the name of his new album. The end, the bis. My favorite Dj Reaggeton the king of the new Latin Hip Hop music wave, arranged Ricky latest hit of this season Muevete Duro-Drop-it on Me. It’s delirious.

On the way back, my friend is having a discussion with a man that wants to be paid for the “rental” of the garage that belongs to his neighbors where we have parked our car, while at my right a young girl is crying desperately, “He is ‘lindo’, he is gorgeous,” and next to her, an older woman, probably her mother, says, ”it’s ok baby, I understand, but no need to cry sweetheart.”

I am as usual in my own dimension of thoughts, thinking within myself that if Ricky would ask me to marry him right now, I wouldn’t say no.

I have finally arrived in Brazil with 2 extra pounds on my scale. Let’s not forget that here it’s summertime and I must wear my bikinis to go to the beach. I could not take anymore of those amazing French cheese and baguette bread and those Greek olives that my French paparazzi friend Cedric keeps on bringing to my apartment with the excuse that we only live once; nor of those inevitable chocolate blue frosted cupcakes from the Magnolia bakery in Soho that Natasha, a friend of my daughter, makes also a point in bringing to the apartment for just a small taste as a comfort from the New York’s cold weather.

Part of my plan for the weight loss is an emergency coconut water diet to detox and I have immediately called a clinic that does miracles in sculpting female bodies without the traditional knives and scalpels. If I recall, the phone number is the same, but the answering machine voice sounds more like an AT&T operator just like at home in the States. “If you want to schedule an appointment, press the touch tone key 1, but this is just for one appointment; if you want to cancel an appointment press 2, for all other enquiries please stay on the line, an operator will soon assist you”.

After waiting on line for enquiring how I loose 5 pounds I am asked if I want my lymphatic drainage massage in the bungalow or inside the house. Bungalow? What Bungalow, do I have the wrong number? Apparently not, the operator’s voice recognizes me and warmly greets me with a: “ Welcome, Joelle, everything has changed, you’ll love it! Huuuff, I am back in Brazil.

I choose the bungalow, this evening, at 7. The space has drastically changed; I am at a totally different place at the same address, maybe the Jymbaran hotel spa in Bali? A young and pretty girl takes me to a corridor where old Balinese wooden fences surround a Jacuzzi and Nandina plants, a kind of bamboo used by the Japanese to throw their worries on and keep the negativity out at every main entrance door of their houses.

Candles and cement Asiatic lanterns are located on a small bridge under which carps are swimming elegantly in a little water pond. Half a dozen rooms are named, on their walls, after Indian gods like Shiva, Ganesh and Devi. I am already feeling that goddess- to-be sensation by smelling from far my favorite aphrodisiac scent, Ylang Ylang, prepared especially for me in the form of an essential oil waiting to be spread on my skin in the so expected bungalow. Before I take my clothes off, my attention is caught by the picture, in a Playboy magazine cover of this month, framed and hung on the wall, of an bombastic and pretty girl that I have met in person, thanking the owner of this place for we all know what.

Ok, my decision was perfect, my lymph and all the water that I retained in my cells all these months in NY will leave my body so fast that my picture will one day be hung on the wall of someone special to me, very soon. The sound and sight of a gracious and very noisy waterfall is not allowing me to hear the pretty masseuse screaming that my bungalow is right in front of me…. I am already dreaming of a thinner me on a beach under another bungalow.

The hammock is warmed to a temperature of 22 degrees, the orchids, ventilation, oils, mask for the eyes and infrared light for extra warmth on the feet are on place, and no, I am not in Bali, nor in São Paulo, I am in heaven.

To be honest, I must be honest, lymphatic drainage massage hurts tremendously if you have some extra weight to loose, but you see, this is what sculpting is all about. The little Rodin girl, while applying this strong and firm massage to my body, is asking me with a voice full of disappointment and astonishment: ”Joelle, why did it take you so long to come back???”

My answer was, while watching the sapê fiber and raw wood ceiling: Never ever again, I promise.

Related Links:
http://www.hara.com.br

There’s a song that the Corinthians soccer team fans sing, and it goes like this: ”Corinthians my life, Corinthians my story, Corinthians my love.” Well, it sounds a bit like my own song. Twenty-six years ago I got married to a Brazilian in Belgium, as I wore a white dress wrapped in a huge Corinthians flag, the flag of the ‘people’ of Brazil. Today, after 26 years, I no longer have the husband, but no negotiations accepted – I kept the country and the team.

It is a very important date; The São Paulo Soccer Club will be hosting today the Corinthians versus Ponte Preta game, which will take place in front of 70,000 confirmed Corinthians fans, against 200 from the opposite team.

Coincidentally, a friend of mine invited me to join his group of friends when he heard about my enthusiasm in watching the game live at the stadium. Here I am, gladly accepting his invitation without any hesitation. The only thing that scares me is that I had happened to hear that he is part of the Gaviões da Fiel (The hawks of the Faithful) which is a … how can I describe it…. a group with a very hearty and intense way to support its team, sometimes with such a passionate devotion that goes beyond anything and anyone in their life… but whatever, I read in the newspapers that 1015 policemen are in the streets protecting the population around the stadium–by the way, near my house I might as well go then.

Everybody is nervous. We are 2 hours in advance and apparently we are late. It’s ok, I am already used to this ritual so I follow the flow. You must know that to go on a game like this in São Paulo, Rio or Goiás, you must have a small kit. Sunglasses, hat and sneakers are very important, but it is extremely important to bring a as small and as old as possible AM radio to be able to listen to journalist Silverio from Bandeirantes radio station screaming and yelling in details every move and breath of every player in the field. All you wear or bring to the stadium must be black or white, or if you wish, carry the team’s logo; By the way, you must not make mistakes, like wearing “wrong” colors that might suggest a sympathy for the other team, and still wish to sit around. It is your choice to carry flags with you. Obviously they will be sold to you on the way to the stadium.

My ticket for the blue sector, entry number 6, is carefully kept tight in my hands while I listen to the numerous recommendations of my friends – who are not happy anymore to have invited me, since I have a camera in my hands and besides, they do not want to ‘nurse’ any tourists. Specially if the game becomes tense or very loose, whatever… After all, we are about to be champions of the Brazilian Soccer Championship for the fourth time.

Now I am here, and in the middle of the Gaviões the ’batuque’ of the Brazilian drums are very close to us, It’s almost 4 o’clock pm, it’s 23 degrees centigrade and the sun is really striking hot against all. Who cares, you really think you are in Monaco on a boat, or in Capri with slaves turning the ombrelloni in your way to protect you from the shade?

A man is running before the game starts to sell some shade for 5 Reais, when I look at him I realize it’s a piece of bent cardboard, and the only thing worthy is that he is really risking his life because he is in the middle of about 10000 impatient and anxious Corinthianos one last minute before the great team appears in the field.

This is it!! Wartime. Betão, Gustavo Nery and the famous Carlos Tevez, number 10. Almost 70% of the fans shirts have number 10 on their backs, and all the other players’ names are mentioned out loud by the delirious crowd as if they were saying Gods names. The Iranian Kia Joorabchian, president of the MSI, invested 140 million in the team, obviously knowing what he was doing. I could not hear any player names from the opposite team.

Ponte Preta unfortunately manages to shoot one score and I do not feel comfortable. My astrologist would say it’s Mercury retrograde, the energy of my fellows around is not one of the best, many mothers of players of Ponte Preta must not feel that good too, their ears must probably be whistling.

After the interval, in the second part of the game, a penalty is on the way. I see men praying, kissing crosses, and all of the sudden they all look at me: let the’ baby’ take a picture of the beautiful penalty we are going to see. I felt a big responsibility, like that was my duty, they all made room for me to be comfortable to shoot the picture and I was scared, so I also prayed the ‘Ana Becoah’ an easy Jewish prayer.
We missed it, but fortunately we scored 3 x 0. We are now closer to the ‘tetra’ next week, after a game with Internacional.

My heart is pounding with joy while, as part of one of the biggest emotions of the game, I watch the enormous Gaviões flag opened on top of all of us, under the immense blue sky with yellow and red colors… The very special group and its energy: the Gaviões. A man by my side, who is in tears, asks his girlfriend to marry him…

After a small pause I look up, in the middle of all that chaos, and I thank God for existing, for turning me into a Brazilian, and into a Corinthiana.

Salve o Corinthians.
Amen

Well what can I say , this guy has always been my guardian angel.

Believe it or not I met him 10 years ago in a contest of young good-looking men and women to dispute the role of salesperson for my new home emporium flagship in Sao Paulo called Sig and Joelle. There he was quiet and ironically silent, only now I finally know the reason why.

This kid patiently listened and learned and absorbed everything he could without ever talking too much. He would just wisely watch. Through the many phases of my careeer he was always present, piling up products, developing samples, experimenting prototypes, selling, buying, managing the store, you name it, he was always there. Part of his job was to check on me in a hospital in India, rescue me from an angry American Indian, negotiate with a Turkish antique dealer, support me after a streneous discussion with a Chinese interpreter at a trade show.

There he is, moving like Nureyev in his own new stage. It was about time.

As usual he is upset, he does not like to take pictures while he works, the music is loud probably some of this tremendous Brazilian pop bands that melt within new the store, space furnished with exotic stone Buddhas, japanese old screeens,c eramics made in Brazil and of course an enormous amount of traditional Brazilian icons searched I believe in his trail through the north, probably Bahia. Coconut artifacts luxuriously arranged near daybeds from Minas Gerais that would easely be mistaken with Thai opium beds. We could say is has learned to be a magician.

As a strong believer with his own principles, he writes in the walls what he thinks and make it apoint to be a serious statement in a red background, you almost feel a little guilty when you read that whatever you do you have to be perfect on it otherwise don’t do it.

Bahianas candlesticks are everywhere blended with straw rugs that could fit in any small beach house in the neighborhioods of Sao Paulo.

What can I tell you, he offers me a drink? No he doesn’t but not as a guest, or a client I feel awfully at home and incredibly proud of him.

Delfina
Rua Delfina 112- tel. 38 16 28 62
Vila Madalena São Paulo / Brasil