the brasil story: page 8

Holy sh*t…I can live in Brasil, I really can!!!
I stumbled upon a Brasilian website that showed apartments for rent. Things started looking up. Remember, the exchange rate from U.S. dollars to Brasilian dollars is still over 2 to 1! Add to that, the lower wages in Brasil make the cost of living much lower than the U.S.–bottom line is, I was finding nice apartments for US $300 a month! I remember even e-mailing the realty company, asking “Is this rent for a week???” to which they replied that the prices I saw were indeed monthly rental charges.

After doing some math, I came to the realization that if I made some small changes (like rented my house out and selling my car), I could afford to live in Brasil! I would have to quit my day job here at the radio station, as Program Director and Afternoon Guy–but I could still produce Sunday Nite Slow Jams in Brasil, and still make American dollars. Today, with modern technology, a DJ can produce his show anywhere in the world. Just the thought of hosting Sunday Nite Slow Jams live from Brasil made my hairs stand up. This could really happen.

I went out to dinner with my girlfriend to hear a Brasilian band play Bossa Nova music downtown (a rare find in Tucson, Arizona), and that’s when I made the decision to go for it. Sitting there, listening to Saravá play those sweet sounds of Brasil on that warm summer night made me decide right then and there, if there was a way to live in Brasil, I would do it.

Again, my dream was almost crushed, when after I realized I could afford this journey, reality smacked me upside the head, as it came to my attention that you just can’t decide to “live” in any country you want. Every country has immigration laws, and I soon found out Brasil’s rules were tough. Unless you were over 55 and retired, had $200,000 to start up a company there and hire ten Brasilian employees, were a college student in Brasil, or a missionary doing religious work, you just can’t decide to live in Brasil. I was screwed. Dream over…

Until I had lunch with Mrs. Houston. Remember her? My Spanish teacher?

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