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Post by Brazil on Jan 14, 2013 19:28:02 GMT -5
June 18, 1908
Port of Santos, São Paulo - SP
Brazil Luciano was nervous. It was supposed to be a very simple thing; Kiku Honda would arrive with his people in a cargo ship, a noticeably big thing named Kasato Maru, departing from Kobe to Santos. He had no idea what the name meant, probably something in Japanese to ward off sea monsters or whatever the Asian believed in, what mattered was that they were coming, and coming to stay. Kiku was a curious man: closed in his little world, which meant a way of speaking all his and no one else’s, something Luciano never understood much, but he wasn’t judging. It meant a whole culture he failed to understand from the little he had seen, the veiled words and overly polite ways to ask for a simple cup of coffee, it meant people with a completely different appearance than his own, with pale skin he wasn’t quite sure would handle the tropical sun and tugged eyes that looked like nothing he'd seen before. It meant a change he wasn’t sure he, or his people, could deal with. Still, he supposed he had found a friend in the smaller man, although they knew pretty much nothing about each other and, formally, it would be considered a first meeting. He supposed that it happening in his own lands would grant him hope, some minimal luck because he did need that, but he wouldn’t make any bets. He hoped Japan’s people wouldn’t have much trouble learning Portuguese, and of course, he’d eventually learn it back, as he had with German and Italian. Maybe he’d even be able to keep a conversation in Japanese with Kiku one day… A boy could dream. The Brazilian hoped the new influx of people wouldn’t change him, and bring good things. He liked learning about new things even if he hated studying, and he would soon try to stir up a conversation with the newcomers. He wanted them to feel at home, welcome, even if he had no idea what to do with them, or how to treat the new workers... Luciano was certain he was missing out a lot of obvious facts, but everything would work, the brunet told himself insistently. Well, until, of course, he just began to doubt himself all over again. Right, a representative of his boss was around to make sure he wouldn't say anything stupid, what a minimal comfort that was. The ship’s loud horn cut through the air as it docked at the Brazilian port, making Luciano snap his head up to watch it. He adjusted his tie and waistcoat — a tanned boy who looked not a day older than seventeen dressed in true European clothing was certainly the odd sight, but he had to cause an impression. He combed his hair with his fingers next, or tried to, putting his hat on again with a grin plastered on his face as the first Japanese began to come down from the ship. C’mon, Luciano, just do things right for once in your life... He hoped things were going to work out between him and Kiku. Things had to.
((There you go. If you need me to change anything, just say so!))[/i] |
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Post by Japan on Jan 16, 2013 14:13:28 GMT -5
The Journey had taken 52 days in total and the sight of their destination was met with a sigh of relief by everyone on board. 52 days in any one location would have gotten to the best of men, but such a small confined place as a boat with around 700 other men took its toll on everyone on the ship.
Kiku had been assigned a private room, as one of the 12 individuals to travel on the ship. The workers conditions were not as luxurious, but complaints were small if spoken up at all. They were eager to find new fortune and return home to their beloved home country and her embrace. He was not going to be staying, that was a fact. He was not so sure for his people.
When the Friendship, Trade and Navigation Treaty had been signed in 1895 in Paris it had seemed too good to be true… which it had proved to be. Due to a crisis, in the industry his men were about to enter, the immigration had been held back and in that time individual Brazilian states had been given the right in 1907 to make their own immigration policies… or in short, curtail immigration into the country. São Paulo was only going to accept 3000 Japanese in 3 years. It barely took the edge off of the dire situation on the home front, and with each day the world was growing to be a tenser place. Kiku was ever aware that he was perilously close to losing face with the Western nations.
Which is why he had taken this way out, despite the guilt he felt. He was planning to leave his people here, in a nation he had yet to visit and with a nation he had yet to meet. It did not settle well with him, but he did as told. And he had been told that the prospects in Brazil were prosperous, that he was giving them all the chance of a lifetime. And he had to believe it, the words were supposed to have come from the Emperor himself – or so the foreign minister had said. And even the most educated – who did not fall for the cult – obeyed his orders as though he were a God.
Japan debarks from the boat in smart western clothes, somewhat standing out in the throng of his countrymen. He has a small case at his side, implying either that he packs light or does not intend to stay all that long. In reality it is a mixture of the two.
Kiku breathes in the foreign air with a faint look of relief, eyes shutting for the briefest of moments before his eyes are on the scenery. He is taken aback by the sights and smells despite his bland expression. What he does not convey however is scattered among the excited and anxious murmurings of his people.
It does not take the nation long to start searching for Brazil, not quite sure what to expect. He had heard the nation was young, but then a lot of nations he had been meeting as of late were younger than him. He was not quite sure what to make of the concept anymore. Old was centuries younger than China in Europe… what was old, here, in Southern America?
((It was perfect~ Just let me know if you have any issues with my half? ))
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Post by Brazil on Jan 17, 2013 11:36:43 GMT -5
Spot Japan wasn’t difficult at all, but Brazil had to say he was expecting something less… Western. Well, not that he was one to talk, dressed in European fashion — him, out of all people, who was always teasing Martín for trying to be what he never would. They looked so off, both of them, using clothes that didn’t belong with their persona… The Asian didn’t look much older than him physically, maybe four years at best, but in his eyes, Luciano saw an old man, who’d seen far too much of the world to be surprised about anything. It reminded him of his mother for a moment, always warning him about tall men in odd clothes, not trusting anything besides her own world. It made him tremble.
Still, he adjusted his hat, once again for luck, and walked towards the other, dodging people as he went, both Brazilian and Japanese. Kiku’s people were shy, perhaps scared, but he knew they’d feel at ease soon enough. It’s like inviting a stranger to your house and expect them to open the spice rack and cook on the first go — not that he’d ever understand what’s with Europeans and spices anyway.
“There you are!” Luciano beamed when he was at arms’ distance from the Japanese, opening his arms with a smile. “I’m Brazil, or Luciano da Silva, but you can just call me Luciano!” He presented himself, stretching a hand out for a firm shake — they bowed in Japan, according to what his minister had said, and did not hug, but Luciano… How do you greet someone without at least a friendly pat in the pat, loud and clear? Another thing he had yet to learn.
Oh, right, he also had practiced how to say ‘good morning’ but… The boy paused, bit his lower lip before he smiled again and decided to give it a try. “Ahm… Ohayo.” Well, that was perfect. He nodded to himself, because it sounded close enough to what his translator had said, although not quite. He’d learn with time. For now, he had to focus on causing a good first impression.
“From here, we’ll take the Santos-Jundiaí railroad, to São Paulo. My boss couldn’t come, he’s in Rio taking care of some business, but he does send his apologies.” The Brazilian started after, gesturing lightly as he explained things. “You’ll like São Paulo, it’s a nice city where progress shows, you know? And you can also crash for the night, or the week, because I don’t know how long it’ll take for your crew to restock the ship and return… I take it you’ll go with them, no?” Luciano blinked after, then waved a hand, laughing a bit as he shook his head — he should let Kiku speak a bit himself too.
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Post by Japan on Jan 17, 2013 17:25:01 GMT -5
Japan is not a tall man, so Brazil should not be all that scared. If anything Japan was the one who should be alarmed, finding himself jostled by his own people and Brazilians alike. He still wasn’t one for physical contact… he doubted he would ever become one for it either.
So the held out arms are the first thing to set his alarm bells going, eyes going wide for the briefest moment. His desire to run back to the boat and stay there was rather high as of the moment, although when the alternative of a handshake is offered he is more than happy to take the hand.
His handshake is minimal, weak at best. He has yet to become fully accustomed to the gesture and as such pulls his hand back to quickly and fails to full grasp the offered palm. He hopes it is something that will improve with time. He’s quick to bow afterwards, the gesture automatic and far more elegant than his hand shake would ever be. ‘Kiku Honda. It is also a pleasure to meet you.’
He pauses, studying the younger man with curiosity. He couldn’t say the younger nation – for he must have been younger – looked any more comfortable in Western clothing than he did. It however did suit him better. Perhaps because he was a former colony of Portugal’s.
The Japanese brings a surprised smile to his lips. The nation had dragged the second syllable to long but, the accent was actually surprisingly good. ‘Ohayou Gozaimasu,’ he replies, bowing once again at a 45’C angle. He couldn’t help but be charmed by the younger nations efforts, his disposition slightly lightening up towards him.
The exaggerated gesturing reminds him of Kabuki, the personal joke entertaining him as he watches the man. He’s listening rather intently, nodding every so often to indicate as such. ‘Ah, yes. I am sorry to say that my visit must be short. I believe the ship is currently planning to stay a week…’ He pauses, ‘I would like to… ‘crash’ with you, if it is not inconvenient.’ The new word lies heavy on his tongue, cautiously watching the man’s reaction to gauge the man’s reaction. Hopefully he had used it in the right way.
He looks around the port, watching his people group together as though the sudden open space made them crave the small rooms of the ships. ‘Do you mind me asking where my people will be going?’
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Post by Brazil on Jan 18, 2013 19:54:19 GMT -5
The weak handshake was like a bad omen for him, after all, how is it Japan’s people would work in the fields, plow the lands if Kiku himself would rather bow? Luciano didn’t hesitate, however, blamed it casually on the fact the other just wasn’t used to the gesture and carried on. His boss had warned him the Italians would be better, but Hell if he hadn’t messed up that one too… Diplomacy, one day, he’d get the hang of it. At least the other seemed amused enough at the attempt of a Japanese, which was enough to make Luciano laugh back once Kiku bowed again and replied not only with the correct intonation, but also the rest of the phrase, which he had forgotten. Well, he supposed it wouldn’t make much of a difference in the end. “One week, then.” He nodded to himself, clapping his hands once and looking around. It was a noticeable ship, that would certainly serve as a cargo later on, but Luciano wasn’t very keen on the subject, nothing like Portugal. Still, he knew enough to understand that a week was a rather quick period… Ah, then he hoped that these people would show such hurry with his coffee plantations too, as God knows he needed more workers. Luckily, it brought money to him, which would certainly keep his economy prosperous as long as people carried on drinking coffee. It was a strange thing to depend on, he had to agree, but things were working and if he wasn’t giving these people the chance of a lifetime, then he’d change his name to Pepito and move in with Pedro and Itzel. Simple. Right, so Kiku would stay for a week… He wouldn’t say no to hosting the man at his place, although he wasn’t sure how much Kiku minded his privacy… Or perhaps he had meant in a more metaphorical sense? Luciano would see to that once they were at São Paulo. “It’s not a problem at all, Kiku!” He smiled, taking the liberty of calling him by first name. “Come on, the train should depart soon, and we don’t want to be late.” He waved a hand, then started to walk off towards the station, hoping the Japanese would walk after him. The noise also did distract him, and the boy was quick to diverge his attention from the other nation to his people. They were already being guided to their respective trains, some scared and looking at the ship with longing. The Brazilians didn’t seem all too happy either, rushing them and gossiping between themselves. From the distance, Luciano got a journalist commenting that at least, they are clean… Or so seem to be. Things weren’t… great, so far, but hopefully his own people would ease up. He knew it all would help when Kiku’s folk began to mingle with the natives, and as soon as they learned Portuguese properly, all the tension would dissipate. Oh, right, Kiku was talking again. “Huh? Oh, well, they’ll work in the coffee plantations, that’s why I called them here to begin with.” He laughed nervously, a bit lost at Japan’s question at first. He had guessed the man knew already… He wasn’t promising money, or anything, but he had offered them a job, a place to stay, a community where anyone could start life over, what else mattered? “They’ll take the railroad towards the west of São Paulo, where the fields were. They used to be at Rio, but the earth here is better for planting, I think you understand… They’ll live there, and their descendants will be Brazilian, speak Portuguese... Is that what you wanted to know?” He shrugged, smiling warmly once again to get his point across as they approached the station.
Pedro and Itzel are, respectively, Mexico North and Mexico South.
The west of São Paulo, or oeste paulista, is basically what is shown in this map here, or rather, the area painted in green.
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Post by Japan on Jan 24, 2013 10:30:24 GMT -5
Kiku observes the fellow nation, as he tends to do when thrown into such haphazard situations and surroundings, and can’t help but be stricken by his naivety. He seemed to be hoping for the best in a bad situation. It was quite refreshing, and something that reminded him of intellectuals back home but, it also spoke of how young the fledgling nation was. Like humans he hoped for the best in the future in the face of adversity… and it was something only age and experience could fix.
He hides his shock when the boy uses his first name so easily, following after the man and heading towards the station with him after taking a moment to collect himself. He had grown somewhat used to the familiarity of the west, and while he did not practise it himself he would not condemn another nation for doing so. That did not mean that it did not catch him out each time however. He had come to accept that it was a mere cultural difference that neither the Japanese nor Kiku seemed to want to change and they would not ask the west to change either, to accommodate them.
His attention is torn away from the younger Nation’s back when he hears some of the whispers and barks of instruction. Kiku’s Portuguese is rusty at best and he struggles to understand the Brazilian’s people, his own people just as lost. But they all picked up on the tone. It was something Kiku was accustomed to… they were being spoke down to and gossiped about. His eyebrows knit in a small frown as he’s lead away from them, pushing down the urge to huddle them all back and take them home… to where they belonged and wouldn’t be judged for their race.
He’s pulled out of his plots by the younger nation, nodding. He had meant the question more literally, as in what region would they be situated in. He, and his people, had been lead to believe that they would be being paid but since Brazil said nothing to negate that he does not voice any complaints. Thankfully he doesn’t need to push as the nation continues to talk, specifying the region.
The next part alarms him, watching the nation cautiously. He was sure his people would crave their home country before long, or at least the majority would. He knew there were some on the ship who looked forward to the excitement of exploring a new country with a culture different to their own. There were also a few who did not like the direction the country was heading in and felt the need to find a new start elsewhere. But he was confident that even these people would crave their country. You could not take out the Japanese in a person, or so he and everyone else had been lead to believe.
‘I think many will try to return before that occurs,’ he reassures the younger nation, and himself. ‘Although I do suppose they themselves will learn enough Portuguese to get by… I think you will find their work ethic to be acceptable, Brazil-kun.’ He pauses before adding on, ‘I hope this venture if beneficial to us both now and in future.
He smiles slightly in response to the Brazilian’s apparent kindness and follows him into the station, eyes immediately straying to the architecture.
-kun. Kiku is actually talking down to Brazil here, a bit. He’s already decided the hierarchy of their relationship and probably due to his seniority and his impression of Brazil so far has decided they’re not quite equal. Kiku is putting himself on a bit of an upper foot here. This is probably also to do with the fact that Brazil was once a colony as well.
It also has to do with the fact that Kiku is reciprocating Brazil’s familiarity. You would use –san a lot with strangers and once the relationship grew closer you could refer to them as –kun (or –chan). Very close friends drop suffixes altogether and use first names.
I think he would probably consider it more of the latter than the former. Although the former reason is what Hima gives to explain why Italy is called ‘Italy-kun’ by Japan.
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Post by Brazil on Jan 25, 2013 17:21:19 GMT -5
The train station of Valongo, Santos, was truly something to admired — and another building Luciano was proud of. The railroad had been built with the help of England, simply because Luciano... Well, he wasn't quite good at building railroads crossing mountains, or railroads at all, and heck, if he could get help (which he did), it would be more than welcome. He hoped Kiku wouldn't feel dizzy taking a train which travelled very close to the edge of a mountain and, instead, would appreciate the view, but you never know... Some tourists vomited, it could be bad. Then again, he had heard there were mountains in Japan too, so perhaps he'd feel more at home? Luciano would have to wait and see, all of Kiku's reactions were new and unexpected in some way, this would be no exception. Back to the architecture. The station had been built in 1867, the very first in the state of São Paulo, and imposing was one way to describe it, until he built the Estação da Luz, at the city of São Paulo itself. He let the Japanese admire it as he pleased, the beige tones with the details in white, a bit dirty from the come-and-go of the trains and the smoke from coal, yet nothing that drew the beauty away. The dark rooftop too, in a charming tone of green and why not, the four lions England had insisted on, like a mark of his in distant Brazilian lands. On top, the clock marked the precise time, and at the station itself, the train waited. The place wasn't crowded, although it would be soon enough, when all the Japanese moved from the port to... here. Hah. Valongo was also an imposing neighborhood back in those days, so of course Luciano let him admire the buildings nearby too, as well as the Brazilians, if he could let himself be that cheeky. Not that he dared voice that very last part out loud, Japan would certainly not take it well, or as the joke he had meant. Luciano explained everything on his way to the Asian, telling him all of the place's history soon enough, as he wanted the other to feel perhaps not so foreign, and also to somehow break a bit of his reputation internationally, of being a country where the jungle reigned and people still walked around naked, not an ounce of culture to see. He greeted one of the guards nearby and presented him a set of tickets — alright, there was a minimal talk about politics, Luciano had to explain to the white-haired man about the Japanese, but the subject was dropped quickly and soon enough, Luciano was hopping on the train itself, towards São Paulo. "I told you to call me Luciano! And hurry up now, or else we'll lose the train — well, you will." He laughed from the small stair at the end of the first wagon, wandering inside quickly then. He had decided to drop the subject about the future of these immigrants, and hoped Japan wouldn't notice it. He had seen what happened to the Italians and the Germans, they would not come back to soon, or get all the richness they had dreamed of because Luciano had never promised to be an El Dorado to begin with, but... He wasn't there to frustrate anyone, not yet, not exactly.
The train station of Valongo, Santos, can be seen here.
In the first paragraph, Luciano is talking about Serra do Mar, which goes more or less like this. |
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Post by Japan on Jan 29, 2013 17:33:51 GMT -5
Japan cannot help but be stricken by how similar the place feels. An imitation of Western Styles in a foreign country. How new it looked in comparison to the buildings of Europe only increased his sense of nostalgia. The building was objectively beautiful, and well constructed, but Japan was perhaps expecting something different. Something more… exotic.
He supposed this was the disappointment officials from Western countries faced upon docking in Japan. They were expecting traditional architecture only to be encountered with their own – mainly because the people who had preceded them were homesick and had too much time to spare.
The commentary keeps Japan amused as they cross the station, eyes taking in the architecture as the Brazilian points it out. He enjoyed listening to other countries boast about their architecture, if only cause he could never do it himself.
By the time they reach the platform Japan has noticed the shift in subject but is not one to pursue open confrontation. He would see how this immigration panned out before passing his judgement on the scheme, and the country ahead of him.
He quickly follows him up the stairs, somewhat alarmed at the continual mentioning of time. He would not want to hold up the train in anyway whatsoever. ‘I’m sorry Braz- Luciano-kun.’ He follows the man further onto the train, looking this way and that.
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Post by Brazil on Jan 31, 2013 16:46:21 GMT -5
Once they were in the train, Luciano slowed down his pace again, laughing cheerfully and sometimes, even pestering a few humans he passed by, his people as he added mentally with some care. He had been in a hurry before, having already gotten quite the ear-tug for showing up late by his boss, and after a while, you either learn to be on time for at least this one thing, or you lose an ear. Not that he was complaining about anything, honestly… Perhaps his knack for angry bosses, but what could he do about that?
He picked a small cabin for the two of them after a while, though, sitting down at the corner by the window. In the middle, there was a small table, for coffee or if the travelled wanted to take notes, and the rest basically fit four, maybe six people sitting down and a minimal number of luggage. He already felt cramped, his face contorting into a minimal pout at the tiny cabin, but of course, nothing that would take his attention away from the important matters. He let Kiku take his time and adjust his belongings (how the Hell did he manage to fix clothes for a whole week in that tiny handbag?!), pick a place to seat or whatever else the Japanese felt like doing, seriously, take his clothes off, make a sandwich, scream for mother…
Luciano blinked, snickered at his own mental image, shook his head and looked up, already slouched in his seat.
“There we go, sir, one hour to entertain ourselves during the ride!” He sighed heavily, despite the cheerful tone, looking out of the window as he heard the train’s departing whistle. “Anyway, I’m being a bad host.” He paused, scratching the back of his neck as he looked up. “Do you have any… questions about me? My people? Or you could talk a bit about Japan yourself.” He smiled at that last part, as if that had been a brilliant idea. “How is it there? The people I’ve seen but... The culture, the habits, what’s happening there?” He suggested, and then waited.
Kiku didn’t seem the type to ramble much about himself in general, or speak about his own land with pride, but perhaps, he could catch some hints at what was coming, what would happen to him in a few months or years. And by Japan’s questions, he’d know just how he was seen out there, in the international scenario, and then adjust the tone of the conversation to that. His reputation probably wasn’t the best, but he’d wait and see.
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Post by Japan on Feb 7, 2013 16:22:00 GMT -5
Japan watches the nation interact with his people, eyebrows furrowing lightly in concern. His heart went out to the Brazilians… he only hoped the nation wouldn’t turn his taunting to him. He had already met a variety of nations who revelled in embarrassing him. He didn’t need another nation taking it up as a sport.
He sits himself opposite the man, but not before putting his bag in the overhead luggage stand and taking off his coat to deal with the heat. He folds it neatly, settling it on his lap as he sits opposite him. The size of his bag did not allude to how many clothes he had packed. He had just simply learned to pack smartly, what with all the travelling he had been forced into the last through years.
Japan blinks in surprise at the statement, not quite sure how to reply. He is even more confused when the man sighs, not sure how to take the juxtaposition. No one had told him that Luciano’s mood changed so drastically… he would have to make sure to be a better guest to avoid such awkwardness in the future.
Japan has some questions, although the Brazilian does not give him a chance to ask them. He seems far more interested in Japan’s culture at the moment. He settles his hands in his lap, briefly glancing out the window before he thinks of an adequate answer.
‘Japan… At the moment we are working on maintaining a harmonious national consciousness.’ He pauses, briefly tugging at his tie before he continues. ‘The culture… I am sure it is a lot like what you have heard, we are a modern nation at the edge of Asia.’ He does not look comfortable saying that, but it is obvious the words are something he has been told to say. For the greater good of the country, he obeys. Not only that, but his people are making an effort to improve their country and he cannot help but appreciate it, even if he worries for the culture they are losing. ‘Many foreign guests are actually disappointed that it isn’t as exotic as they would have liked.’
He decides to change the topic to Brazil, ‘What about your culture? Do you think there will be any aspects my people will struggle to come to terms with?’
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Post by Brazil on Feb 9, 2013 11:57:22 GMT -5
Japan's actions were quite funny, for all that Luciano thought. He watched the man settle his bag aside, fold his coat neatly and then let it rest on his lap, the heavy fabric not remotely fit for the weather. It's strange for him, at first, watch the shorter man and his composed, casually measured-out actions, as if he was never honestly being himself. It reminded Luciano for a moment of Uruguay, the blond who was always well-dressed, sipping his mate much like Martín but so very different. He remembered when they shared a house, when the other tried make him look a bit more presentable than the monkey the Europeans saw him as, when they... His mind cut those memories short, wondered then to the fact perhaps Kiku thought the same, that he was dealing with an unruly child, so Luciano just pushed himself up on his seat and tried to sit up a bit more like a man, smiling once again.
What the hell, Luciano, to remember about the most random people so suddenly!
Still, the Brazilian listened to the answer with care, eyebrows vaguely twitching at the answer. It's like Kiku was told to say that, which is strange and Luciano couldn't even grasp why. Don't they all have problems? So, what's with the poise… Not a century ago they were all calling Argentina an stupid anarchist, and he was certain it was not all that different in Asia. Or perhaps it was, Luciano always failed to understand why those guys used so many fancy words to state things that could be resumed into 'It's all fucking shitty, thank you'. Huh. Still, he smiled and nodded, because he could be a polite guy too, contrary to what Portugal always said.
"That's great to hear.. We wanted just that, people who know their way around technology, y'know?" He hummed, leaning over a bit. Oh, a question… Well, he had to think a bit to answer that. Luciano tapped his own chin, thinking before he laughed again. "Well, perhaps they'll find the food weird? I'm not sure how down-to-terms they are with Portuguese food, Italian food, or even what my people came up with a cuisine… They do look uptight? I think they won't have problems, just maybe the language." The brunet winced at that, always remembering how Portuguese was mentioned as a hard language to learn. "But if I learned it after Tupi, they'll certainly have no problems!" He assured the other, reaching over to pat his knee.
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Post by Japan on Jun 1, 2013 11:51:12 GMT -5
Japan sits back when the other leans forward, eyebrows furrowing in embarrassment. He was not quite used to people invading his personal bubble so suddenly. He tugs on his collar, a reaction to the humid weather. It was far too close for his liking.
He forces a smile at the reply, 'As long as you have rice I am sure my people will survive.' He tries to relax, although it's hard with such a forward and young nation. Everything is setting him on edge. 'As for language... Hopefully they will pick it up soon. Some of them should already be aware of the alphabet.'
He moves his jacket to the side, sitting it beside him in an effort to combat the heat. The climate was quite different from the Honshu Island where he mainly stayed. He only hopped it didn't affect his people as much as it did himself. 'Where do you mainly derive your protein from in your diet? Fish or Meat?'
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Post by Brazil on Jun 22, 2013 17:07:09 GMT -5
This Kiku was a really funny, old man... He had not heard that gentle pats on the knee were so shameful or invading someone else's space— but then again, his notions of invading a personal space meant something else entirely. Still, Luciano pretended not to notice the other's embarrassment, or even disapproval, and merely laughed at the hint he caught from the heat.
"I think as soon as we reach São Paulo, you'll have a better time... It's not so hot there, but if you're used to less... At night we get to even 10°C, I'd say, there. Not as close to snowing, though!" The moreno teased, tapping the window's glass that was at arm's reach. "Or I can crack open the window, sure the breeze will do." To him, the temperature was alright, the winter was coming and soon, it may as well even rain. By now, however, there was more than enough sun to enjoy the day outside — if only for those damned uptight layers and layers of clothing...
To Hell, he might as well dunk himself in the nearest river while Japan stared at him horrified. Oh, yeah, right, conversation.
"Oh, there's plenty of rice here, but you can sure harvest. Old man Portugal always said you can harvest anything here and it'll grow..." The boy rolled his eyes, scratching the base of his neck because there was not much more shame than that. Parents... He could have had none, being a country, but he ended up with a sap and an angry woman. Perfect, great wow.
Focus, Luciano. You do have a guest.
"Hm?" He blinked lazily once he noticed he had ignored the Japanese to stare out at the window. "Oh, food, right. Ah... It's pretty balanced, I'd say? We have a good quality of meat, but there's plenty of fishing, if your people want to venture to the rivers or even the ocean. Here, in this one state, meat is a bit stronger, but unless your people is into some bizarre sorta very-asian-only fish, you won't have problems." He smiled then, trying to be nice and welcoming as possible. "I mean, I hope they like sea bass!" Because seriously, robalo was delicious.
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