Usually if I find that something works I repeat it many times to see if it keeps working, and if it does then I can start developing an optimal game. With Western girls I find that cockiness mixed with humor and teasing will be the most consistent means to have sex with a large number of them. I can roll up into Anycity USA, make a couple witty sarcastic jokes, and have the girl asking me personal questions. I can meet an Australian girl in a hostel, ask what’s wrong with her hair, and have her asking about my plans later in the night. I can make oogly eyes with a white South African girl in a bar, tell her I’m a farmer, and get a fun back-and-forth going. Unfortunately this type of game does not work on Brazilian girls.

By my estimates I’ve probably interacted with 100-150 Brazilian girls in both Brazil and the United States, and my hook up percentage with them is about a third of what I can get with American girls. I tried many angles, like being nice, being direct, being mean, being aggressive, being aloof, being a comedian, being dark and disturbed, etc. and absolutely nothing has worked with any type of consistency that I can share with you. Every time I bang a B girl I feel like luck played a large role.

A big difference is that in America girls will indulge you even if they don’t like you off the bat. This is how you can turn the tide with strong game. But in Brazil the girls don’t give you the chance if they’re not into your look and vibe, which means less opportunity to use classic game to build attraction. If it’s not there almost immediately you’re pretty much done. On one hand you save time but on the other how can you use brainpower and skill to get what you want?

So then I worked backwards on the set of hooks ups I’ve already had. Like a statistician I poured over the data to see if anything stood out at me. I’m also in touch with a dozen or so guys who’ve banged Brazilians and have their experience in the back of my mind as well. From this analysis there was a very clear pattern of B girls who got banged by a gringo…

They already like Westerners. In particular they like the English language and Western culture. They watch American movies and listen to American music. They go to Starbucks and Irish pubs. They have either visited or lived in a Western country. They’re at least 24-years-old.

Every Brazilian girl I’ve slept with has spoken at least passable English, and they enjoyed practicing.

Every Brazilian girl I’ve slept with has put out strong interest within two minutes of talking to them.

Every Brazilian girl I’ve slept with has mentioned in passing other gringo “friends,” a German guy here, an English girl there. I’m never the first gringo they got to know. Two girls I used to see are currently dating a gringo.

Every Brazilian girl I’ve slept with has complained about Brazilian men to some degree. They are looking for something different.

Every Brazilian girl I’ve slept with has been at least 24-years-old. While I have kissed B girls as young as 18, they seem to be more about kissing than fucking. Pursuing a young B girl is generally a waste of time.

I know two guys who have banged a quality B girl who spoke no English and didn’t fit the model above, but neither of them could sustain the relationship and make it to bang number three. I think these girls did it more for the novelty of it, not because they genuinely liked gringos.

During my six months in Colombia, I was the first gringo for most of the girls I slept with. For two of the girls I was the first gringo they had ever met, something that has never been the case with Brazilian girls. There I found that hanging out in a place with a lot of gringos generally wasn’t a good idea as it killed my exotic status.

In Brazil (at least for Rio) that seems to be the opposite. I actually bomb when I’m in a place that has no gringos, because the girls probably don’t care for them. Girls in Brazil know which bars and clubs have gringos, and if they like going there then guess what—they like gringos and it will be easier for you.

If you want to bang a Brazilian in Rio, go to the spots that have gringos first. Being the only gringo in the club is great if you like standing out, but it won’t automatically be easier.

There is this one club I do well at. Until recently do you know what I would tell other guys when describing the place? “Yeah music is alright but it has a lot of gringos… sucks.” It could be 20% gringos at times! I didn’t realize that my complaint was helping me get consistent results there.

I’ve been to another club four times. There are maybe 2% gringos at the most. I’ve never hooked up there—not even gotten a measly number—even though it’s in a poorer part of town. Here I get blown out most of the time. Girls simply don’t give a shit.

There’s a guy I knew in Rio who spoke very good Portuguese, something you’d think would increase his chances of banging a lot of Brazilians, but it hasn’t done anything of the sort because his ability is merely driving him to girls who don’t already like gringos. He has a ton of conversations in Portuguese that go absolutely nowhere. His language skill merely delays the inevitable rejection.

So I have no idea how to bang a Brazilian girl who doesn’t speak English or who doesn’t already come pre-programmed liking gringos. Your guess is as good as mine. But now when I approach a girl, I ditch after a minute if she’s under 24 and she doesn’t try to say a few words in English. Otherwise I simply run cool guy game, tell her my story, crack a couple jokes, tease her very gently, and sit back as she’ll do most of the work for me. With Western girls I definitely work at building attraction and it may be several minutes in until I “hook” her, but with Brazilian girls if attraction isn’t there almost immediately then nothing will happen.

Game in Brazil is more venue selection, persistence, and attractiveness than what you already think of as game. The best advice I can give you before coming to Rio is to hit the gym hard and look your best. Then once down here approach daily.

I really wish I could give you a complete strategy, and maybe I can some day, but until then don’t waste your time gaming Brazilians who are skeptical of gringos.

POSTSCRIPT: Since originally writing this I’ve banged a B girl using only Portuguese. She said I was her first gringo. I believe it was for the novelty because I couldn’t get to the third bang.

Props to you if you can steal my drink without me noticing. My mind must’ve been elsewhere to not give a damn about the product of my hard labor. But if I catch you stealing my drink, and you double down, then we have a problem.

There is a bar in Rio called Ovelha Negra (Black Sheep) that doesn’t sell beer, wine, or spirits—just champagne. It was embarrassing for my Danish roommate when we went the first time and he asked for Skol, a cheap Brazilian beer you can get for $1.50 on the street. He realized the type of establishment he was at and quickly adjusted, adopting more of a nouveu rich accent that would have the King of Denmark proud.

The bar has only one room in the shape of a long rectangle. There are little tables on one side and then a big table in the middle where most of the action happens. Starting at 6pm the place packs with the professional happy hour crowd. Almost everyone speaks English and $1,000 jailbroken iPhones make constant appearances.

It can be challenging to pickup here because everyone is in large groups, but really it’s not because those guys with the girls are usually coworkers. Girls are looking to flirt, and Danish and I have done well enough that we’ve become regulars. The young bartender with the moppy haircut greets us with a thumbs up whenever we come in but I keep forgetting his name. I think it’s Thiago.

It was so packed one night that we ordered two bottles to ride out until closing. A lot of people go to a place like this and get the second cheapest bottle of champagne, or at least something that’s not the absolute cheapest, but we always get the cheapest (R$ 37). We don’t know the difference between a champagne and sparkling cider and we’re not going to pretend like we do. Is it making us burp? Are we feeling tipsy? Garçon this is great champagne!

My roommate likes to start his approaches with a cigarette angle. If we’re outside he asks for a light and if we’re inside he asks to bum a cigarette. He did this on one girl and she walked out with him to find smokes from a street vendor, leaving me with the bucket of two open champagne bottles. By now we had finished one and was about to get started on the other. As usual the bartender put a salt solution in our bucket, ensuring the second would be near freezing temperature when we were ready for it.

The bucket was on the communal table and I stood in front of it behind a high bar chair. To my right was a girl that looked cute from the back—I was working on getting facial confirmation—and to her right was an obviously drunk girl in a white dress. Sitting next to her was a guy petting her back, her boyfriend maybe, or at least trying to be for the night. Across the table were three more of their friends.

I’m standing there with my champagne glass, trying to act cool, when I see the drunk girl in the white dress reach over and grab the neck of our full bottle. Good thing I was watching it, I thought.

“No no no excuse me that’s our bottle.” I said it very loud, almost shouting, because I know how drunk people can be hard of hearing when it comes to things that hint at possibly limiting their alcohol intake. My face had not a hint of humor or generosity or kindness or anything to suggest I wasn’t serious. I was a father scolding his little girl.

The bottle was now out of the bucket, dripping with icy water as it very slowly traveled past the girl next to me and directly in front of white dress. It approached her glass. There was no time to think about specific actions. No time to devise a battle plan. The autopilot light in the cockpit burns bright orange and your belief system take over.

“Hey hey no, that’s mine and I’m sorry but you can’t have any.”

From the side of her face I could see a quick frown, but she kept going. Her right hand began tilting the bottle towards her glass. She looked at me, squinted her eyes, and then made the “just a little bit” sign with her left hand. She didn’t care what I said and was going to take whatever she wanted.

Slow motion. I’m moving. The weight of my body shifts to my left foot and then I take a big step with my right. I’m next to her friend now, touching the side of her body. My hand shoots like a rocket from my hip. It’s flying through the air across the table. I’m leaning. The back of my right shoulder hits the chin of the girl next to me. She scrunches her face and flinches backwards. White dress is beginning to pour, an entitled, upper-class smirk on her face. I make contact with the neck of the bottle. My hand muscles tighten. Death grip. My knuckles are white. I tilt it upwards. I’ve stopped breathing. Now I’m snatching and pulling. Pulling away. It’s raining champagne like New Years on my arm, on the drunk girl, on the girl who got sidearmed, on the guy who wants to get laid. Cheap champagne on the dark wood table, on professional work clothes. I’m pulling still, and bring it safely back to my side. I step back. Less than a second.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING YOU DON’T JUST STEAL SOMEONE’S FUCKING BOTTLE LIKE THAT WITHOUT ASKING WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE I DON’T BELIEVE THIS SHIT!”

I’m flailing my left arm in the air like an excited monkey. My right hand is still squeezing on tight to the cheap bottle of champagne. My arm and hand is wet and cold. Then silence.

White dress is beginning to cry. Her five friends are staring at me with their mouths gaped open. Half of the bar is looking at me. I’m the bad guy, the arrogant, angry gringo who doesn’t know the capitals of European countries and comes to Brazil only to bang prostitutes and do cheap drugs.

Fuck you all I don’t care what you think.

All her friends gave me the “calm down” sign, apologizing. I pursed my lips and nodded my head up and down. I took a deep breath then put the champagne bottle back in the ice bucket.

I looked at her glass. Only a few drops made it in.

Brazilian game as told to me by a Brazilian guy:

Alright all you have to do is walk up to her and say ‘What’s your name?’ Then you give the two cheek kisses but make sure you do it nice and close. Then make her laugh a couple times and touch a lot and after that go for the kiss. Just go for it. It may take a couple tries.

You’ll find a lot Brazilian guys who say, “Yeah Brazilian girls kiss so fast. It’s very easy to kiss them.” But it’s not necessary because the girls are making fast moves, it’s because Brazilian guys go for it incredibly quick (the ones who have game, anyway).

Now I do think Brazilian girls put out an early “kiss me” vibe, but the guys guys definitely don’t waste any time. In other words if you’re a guy who isn’t aggressive with Brazilian girls, you may not automatically come to the conclusion they’re fast kissers.

(Now compare that to gringos I see in the hostel talking to some hippie girl for four hours in the patio without even touching her when you know he wants to hit. It’s like they’re waiting for the girl to be a man and step up.)

The guy who told me his strategy (let’s call him Renato) is from Recife, a city in the northeast. Along with three of his other friends, they were kissing a random girl in Pipa every night. One of them kissed a girl who couldn’t have been older than 14.

I was floating through a crowd with Renato’s friend and approached two Brazilian girls with something casual. It opened and we’re each talking to the girls. Lucky for me one of them spoke fluent English, but unfortunately she lost her voice and I could barely understand her. I tried reading her lips but that didn’t work so the best I could do was pick out a word here or there and pretend like I understood.

She didn’t want to dance, instead preferring to stand right underneath the club speaker, and she also didn’t want to move to the quiet, dark alley nearby. She was asking me questions that I couldn’t hear so on the surface she seemed interested, but to me the situation seemed rather hopeless.

Eventually I just gave up and stopped talking to her. I deemed this an impossible case. (If she wanted to dance though it would have been relatively easy.) Then Renato moved in. Actually he tried to move in before I was done but I casually blocked him out.

I watched him to see if he would do anything differently. He had her hand on her side, same thing I did, and made her laugh with a couple jokes, which I did as well. But then the frustration on his face became apparent when she tried talking. He kept putting his hands up in the air as if saying, “I can’t hear a single fucking thing that’s coming out of your mouth!” She declined to dance with him as well. I knew he felt what I did and was about to bow out.

Ah but there would be no post if he did.

He changed tactics and instead of asking her questions and trying to maintain a conversation, he just kept talking nonstop as if reading from a monologue. The things he was saying must’ve been cocky because she kept playfully hitting him, a sure sign you’re on the right track with a girl. Then he went for it. Only three minutes after I stepped aside, he tried to kiss her. She leaned way back to avoid his mouth and he gave a look that said, “Hey, what’s wrong?” She strongly shook her head no.

Over the next 15 minutes, Renato went for it at least seven times. It was painful to watch him get rejected again and again, especially when I saw it coming each time. Her body position was permanently set in a way to get ready for the backwards lean and after every rejection he would just make her laugh some more and keep touching to get ready for the next rejection. She didn’t walk away from him though, and kept playfully hitting him.

I walked around and when I came back I caught the instant where Renato went in for one more kiss. He grabbed her in a way which made it very difficult for her to move back, almost forcing her but not quite, and this time it worked. They went at it hard and sloppy.

I can’t stress how strongly she did not want to kiss him. Her rejections were so brutal, again and again, and if Renato was a close friend of mine I’d tell him to give it up to preserve his dignity.

If you see this type of caveman game you think, “Hmm this seems to be where it’s at. I just have to be super aggressive.” This is what I thought at first, but I kept watching and hanging out with Brazilian guys on subsequent nights, and the dirty truth is this: Brazilian guys kiss a lot of girls, but they don’t get a lot of bangs. Let me demonstrate why this is with an example from the world of book sales.

Say you wrote a book on knitting and was looking to advertise it on some knitting blog. You submit three different advertisements and run them all simultaneously. Here are the ads:

1. “Click here to check out an incredible new knitting book.”

2. “Finally! A resource that helps you knit clothing for you and your friends. Click here to learn more.”

3. “Click here for dozens of new knitting patterns.”

The ads run for a week and each get displayed 100 times. Here are the results:

1. 4 clicks and 2 sales. 50% conversion rate

2. 12 clicks and 3 sales. 25% conversion rate

3. 20 clicks and 1 sale. 5% conversion rate

The problem with the first ad is that it oversells—you’re telling people to just buy a book. Not many people will click the ad, but those that do will probably buy it. In the third ad you’ll get a lot of clicks from people looking for free knitting patterns but then they’ll get turned off when they find out you’re selling something. The second ad has the best mix. By saying “resource” you imply this may not be free, so you get clicks from people who are curious about new knitting information and may want to pay for it.

Clicks are kisses and sales are bangs. Very roughly speaking, American guys use ad one and Brazilian guys use ad three.

American guys roll up to a girl and say okay here is my job and my Netflix queue, click here to have sex with me. Many girls say no, but if they eventually do get the kiss chances are they’ll have an decent chance of banging.

Brazilian guys roll up to a girl and say “Hey what’s up you look pretty tonight” and then bam try to kiss. I’m not exaggerating. Brazilian guys go around certain clubs basically assaulting girls until they find one that submits to relentless pressure. Many times I’ve seen a guy corner a Brazilian girl and just force her to kiss while she tries to squirm out of it. They get it a lot of time, but of course it doesn’t result in a lot of “sales” because kissing alone isn’t enough to make a girl want to have sex with you.

The problem with going for the kiss super fast is that is disturbs the bang progression. To get bangs you build attraction over time, punctuating her increasing interest with escalation in the form of personal questions, touching, heavy touching, and then kissing. You’re building a storyline that shows your personality but also hints at passionate things to come. You form tension that is begging to be relieved in the bedroom.

Brazilian guys form no storyline, no tension. The whole interaction is about the kiss. And when they get it then the story comes to an early close. I’ve seen guys get the kiss and then two minutes later they’re back with their group of friends. Plus the guys insist on slobbering over the girl’s face, leaving very little imagination for increased pleasure that could come later.

But if you were to tell a Brazilian guy to delay the kiss, he’d call you crazy. I believe to them kissing is more important than banging, but to me banging is more important. I’m not going to kiss a girl unless she invests into the interaction by showing interest (asking me questions, reciprocating some touches), because that’s what it takes to close the sale.

The ideal time to get the kiss is at the 1 or 2 hour mark, depending on the girl’s culture. By then the girl will be invested enough, and the kiss will increase the interaction’s energy so that you only need 2-4 more hours to get the bang, assuming she’s that “type” of girl. So that’s 3 hours or more for the one night stand. (If I haven’t gotten the kiss by hour three, then it’s unlikely I will get the one night stand.) A downside of this is that you do commit your Friday night or whenever to one girl, but if you’re in the business of banging and not just kissing then this is how it’s done.

My intention here is not to trash the game of Brazilian guys. Their aggressiveness is admirable and I have picked up a couple small things from them, but no matter how long I stay in Brazil I don’t think I’ll completely adopt their strategy because the sales data shows they are on the extreme end of the spectrum. Passive Western guys who don’t try anything, like the hostel guy I mentioned in the beginning, are at the other end. It’s working the middle that will see the most bangs, where you are aggressive but allow the girl to be aggressive as well. Only when she puts in a good bulk of the work will you seal the deal consistently.

View from my kitchen

I live on the edge of Favela Dona Marta, a “pacified” slum where police operations two years ago have removed all drug gangs. There is a police outpost inside the favela and also one right outside, and it’s not uncommon to see them traveling to and from the posts with guns drawn. Once I saw a officer walking alone with a gun in each hand as if he’s seen too many Hollywood action movies, but not once did I hear a single gunshot for the first six weeks I lived there.

One night I was trying to fall asleep around 3am when an explosion went off. It seemed similar to the fireworks that the teenage boys usually set off so I thought little of it and went to sleep.

Six hours later I woke up to the sound of a helicopter circling overhead. I’ve seen helicopters before but it was so close to the ground that it felt like something out of a Vietnam war movie. The blades made a very intimidating and ominous sound, suggesting that any attempt at escape would be impossible. I looked outside my window and saw a black helicopter with the word “Policia” written on the side. It climbed up the hill and then there was a quick burst of gunfire followed by small explosions that created big balls of smoke. Then silence.

On the other side of my window in front of the building there was a tank with the BOPE insignia and fifty officers mingling nearby with their M-16 rifles. BOPE is the elite special forces of Rio that is basically a war arm of the police. They get called for special protection missions and also to extract suspected gang members. They’re so efficient at killing people, including innocents, that human rights organizations have complained about their “shoot first, ask questions later” policy and alleged use of torture during interrogations. Basically if BOPE gets called there will be loss of human life.

A plains-clothes man with shorts and a wife beater seemed to be directing the officers. He had a walkie-talkie in his hand. Maybe an informant? Then the helicopter began firing again. The soldiers started up the tank, made a terrifying war cry, and started running up the hill behind it. The helicopter continued to circle overhead. Here’s the exciting footage I managed to catch before I hid in my closet and curled into a fetal position:

The guys came back down, regrouped, and then went in again an hour later. I didn’t understand why they repeated the same procedure. Was it a training exercise or an enemy they simply could not take out? I got a little excited about living in the middle of an urban combat zone and imagined how many panties I’d make wet by the telling of this story if I somehow survived. Then my Brazilian roommate came home and I asked him what the fuck was going on. “Oh, they’re filming a movie.”

Damn.

I wasn’t the only person who missed the memo as there was a big dustup about everyone thinking it was the real thing.

For the next day I heard the sound of helicopters everywhere. My ceiling fan was a helicopter. The running shower was a helicopter. The airplane flying overhead was a helicopter. And when I thought of the helicopter I thought of gunfire. I now have a better understanding now of how post-traumatic stress syndrome works. If I am exposed to the brutalities of war for an extended period of time I’m certain I would be permanently damaged. Someone slammed a car door… fire in the hole!

Turns out they were filming Tropa Elite 2, a follow-up to an excellent movie. “I saw the filming of Tropa de Elite 2 because it was right outside my place.” I’ll take it. At the end of the shoot they took a crew picture right in front of my gate. My humble shack is famous.

POSTSCRIPT: I got body searched by the regular cops two nights ago while walking home (second time it’s happened to me in Brazil). It included a very rough crotch inspection. As much talk as there is about America being Big Brother, I’ve never been searched in the States. On the bright side, Brazilians don’t have tazers—if you give them lip they merely beat you with batons.

PREVIOUSLY: Part One

Fast forward three days later. The memory of the Mexican girl is fading and I’m in my top bunk trying to get over a bad cold when a Brazilian girl checks in.

I thoroughly checked her out while she was bending over to store her things and deemed her nothing special. The Mexican girl had a better overall face and body, but of course the Brazilian had a better ass.

I found out later that night she doesn’t speak any English, so I took it as an opportunity to practice my Portuguese. She was nice and allowed me to mangle her language while correcting my horrible pronunciation, and since so few gringos speak Portuguese I earned 1,000 bonus points for being able to communicate in her native tongue. During our conversation I concluded that her appearance was homely but not ugly—she was simply a plain girl you’d see anywhere, not worth a second look if you caught sight of her on the street.

While we talked I noticed she had a peculiar stare. She’d squint her eyes ever so slightly and part her lips just a hair, a sensual look you’d expect during intimacy and not in a casual conversation. I like to think this was an unconscious gesture on her part and not something to “game” me, but then again at some point in her life she must’ve realized that it has an effect on real men.

She asked me if I was going out and I told her I was going to be a loser and stay in, as the next day I was meeting an old flame and wanted to be as vigorous as possible for the sex that would likely ensue. She then began to get ready, and like a caterpillar morphing into a butterfly, she literally transformed.

First she showered her body. Her hair stayed dry in it’s already perfect state, long to the small of her back, soft and feathery like you’d see in a Pantene Pro-V shampoo commercial. After changing in a short black dress that came halfway up her thighs, she escaped to the bathroom with a brush and returned ten minutes later, suggesting that hair like hers is no trivial matter to maintain. I don’t think she’ll ever get an ugly bob cut like an American girl, who works forty hours a week pushing papers that contribute nothing to the progress of the world but is too lazy to spend a few extra minutes a day on her hair.

She then got out her compact and began applying makeup. She put on a dark rouge to stand out against her olive skin, glossy lipstick to match, and thick eyeliner which made her eyes look twice as big. You can imagine what that did to her stare and it’s here I noticed that my breathing picked up in speed. She slipped into five-inch heels that highlighted her freshly painted toenails, a bold orange color that matched her fingernails, so fresh in appearance it had to have been done just a day or two prior. I really have no idea how she could walk in those heels but she made it look effortless, like she practiced often starting from a young age. If they killed her feet I doubt she would let a man know.

(Speaking of heels, not once have I seen a Brazilian girl take off her heels and then put on sneakers for the bus or subway ride home after work. It’s because they don’t do things that purposefully make them look like an idiot. If you can’t wear attractive footwear because they hurt your feet or are hard to walk in, then maybe you should get a stay-at-home job instead of embarrassing yourself in public. Either do it right or don’t do it at all.)

She walked in and out of the dorm room to the bathroom, and the girl I witnessed earlier in the day was gone, replaced by this sexual creature I’d do all that I could to bang. I’d happily spend hours in the club with her, dancing, touching, and drinking for a chance to violate her body. I believe any man would. While her genetic appearance was only average, she has figured out that by maximizing her look she can gain the attentions of men like myself who resist chasing average women. It’s true that my interest may not carry over after sex, but at least she has a chance at hooking a man, for a woman who can’t even get sexual attention is already dead in the water. Tight game for men is words and a cocky attitude, while for women it’s looks and a playful attitude. I don’t know why this is so hard for Westerners to understand.

The Brazilian girl didn’t leave right away—she had to wait for a friend who was staying in the bunk above hers to return. She sat down on her bed and then very slowly and deliberately started putting lotion on her long legs. They did not have mosquito bites or mountain bike bruises and cuts like the gringas in the dorm next door. By now I’ve already run out of my good Portuguese and had nothing more to say, frustrating to a man who in English can talk to a wall for five hours nonstop without interruption.

She’s stroking her legs and I’m catching this from the corner of my eye, rubbing my beard roughly at the torture I was witnessing. Then she does the inexplicable: she lays down on her bed while dangling her legs and feet (heels still on) over the bunk’s wooden ledge. Her dress snaked down to the very top of her thigh where it meets with her body and only two more inches until her vagina would be in plain view. Her hair is splayed across the bed and she’s inspecting her finger nails and it got too hot for me so I stopped out for a couple minutes to get some air. She left soon after.

The next day she looked average again but I saw her differently. Loose jeans covered her body but I didn’t forget the ass in the black skirt that bent over to retrieve feminine hygiene products from the locker. She had a plain t-shirt on but I didn’t forget the way her back curves into the meaty part of her hips. Her hair was up in a bun but I could still pick apart its thickness and length. My attraction for her didn’t decrease because I knew in a couple hours time she’d transform back to what aroused me.

Here’s a business idea for a Brazilian woman out there: write a book called “Why Brazilian Women Get All The Men,” in the spirit of “French Women Don’t Get Fat.” Teach Western girls to look their best at all times, to know how to maintain eye contact with a man, how to move, how to properly laugh at a man’s jokes, and how to exercise the ass. An entire chapter must be dedicated to ass exercises. Teach them to forget about being witty or snarky or funny or “intelligent,” as those things decrease attraction instead of increasing it. Teach them well so that when I go to an American bar I don’t see average girls with chipped nail polish, flip flops, masculine movements, and a generally sloppy appearance—I see a sexual creature that I want to get to know, possibly for more than one night.

When I arrived in Rio I stayed with a friend for a few days then moved to a hostel until I could find a suitable rental. There in my six bed dorm room was a 24-year-old girl from Mexico with a pretty face but a body I’d say was bordering on sloppy. She spoke fluent English and for all intents and purposes she was American.

Excited at the opportunity to game in English, I ran cool guy game until I was reasonably sure that I had her interest. Then I gathered my Portuguese books and said, “Cool well I’m going to study downstairs now.” At first she pretended she didn’t hear me and kept talking, but I cut her off and said that I really needed to catch up on my studies.

When you’re gaming a girl in a bar or club, leaving on top is an ill-advised move. Simply stay put, build attraction, and go for the kiss. But when you’re stuck with the girl for hours on end like in the hostel environment, you don’t want to drag on conversations for too long if you’re unable to immediately escalate when the iron gets hot. You must be scarce to keep things from going stale.

On our second meeting a few hours later she started asking me questions interview-style. I didn’t answer directly to any of them, mentioning at one point that my job was operating a porn site, until she said, “Okay I’m curious now, stop lying to me.” Then suddenly I felt the immediate urge to take a shower. I grabbed a towel, excused myself, and she said, “You’re always leaving!” I was pleased that my technique was receiving positive feedback.

After my shower and shave she invited me to join her with three other gringos at a nearby bar. I accepted. There we sat next to each and chatted for a short while, when I noticed the nails on her left hand. Two nails weren’t colored, and the rest was a mixture of fading purple, teal, and green, while on the other hand they were faded red. It almost looked like a prank her friends pulled on her while she was asleep, and I believe it would have looked better if she simply had no nails. This bothered me and I asked her about it.

“Why are your nails different colors? Do you have a fungus?”

“Haha fungus, no. Actually today I bought some remover but didn’t get a chance to do it.”

“Well it looks bad,” I said, matter-of-factly.

“You’re mean!”

Two minutes later she begged me to travel with her the next day to a nearby island (Ilha Grande). I politely declined.

I was dressed in jeans, a t-shirt without any holes in it, and a pair of shoes. As already mentioned I had showered and shaved. She was wearing some cheap sandals bought in a handicraft market, a fraying jean skirt, and some 80’s style top that didn’t do it for me.

Two other gringos in the group were guys and they were wearing t-shirts, shorts, and flip flops. The remaining gringa girl looked like a farmer’s wife with greasy face, frizzy hair, and some cheap dress ensemble that went down below her knees. Her footwear was also flip flops.

The Mexican girl is pushing me to drink but I’m still nursing my first beer. I know how to get some in this case: simply drink with her for a couple hours, wait for the lame gringos to drop out since they had to go hiking or something the next day, and then make my move while pushing for a visit to a motel to just “relax” or “take a nap.”

But I’m staring at this girl’s nails, and I’m thinking, “This girl now wants me to put that full effort into banging her while she’s looking like trash?” Her genetic appearance was agreeable but because she didn’t feature her best qualities all I could focus on were her negative ones. They were glaring, insulting me and questioning why I was even out with her.

Before Rio I had been traveling through points north for five weeks, enjoying the views of Brazilian women who are obsessed with their appearance. Even during the day, even to class, and even to the dive bar (called “dirty feet” bars here), they put care into how they look with no less than crazy high heels, stylish outfits, makeup, luxuriously flowing hair, and a sensual walk that I really can’t fault gringas for lacking. And these Brazilian women have been rewarded with my attempts to make sex with them. A Brazilian woman looks in the mirror and asks, “How can I make myself look even better?” A gringa does the same and says, “How can I show that I don’t need a man?”

I can’t respect myself if I try to fuck a girl who doesn’t respect herself. I used to be able to, but I can’t anymore. After one beer I threw away my chance at a Mexican flag by leaving.

CONTINUED: Part Two

When you’re talking to a B girl and she asks for your Facebook or Orkut name before the interaction is over, the interaction will soon be over. While she is curious about you, she’s asking because she’s ready to dip and meet other people. What you gotta do is say, “Yeah sure, but let me go to the bar/bathroom real quick—hold on,” then walk away quickly before waiting for her response. Your best bet is to use scarcity to reengage later, but odds of recovery are slim.

There’s a psuedo-rock club I go to where the Brazilian guys have zero game. They don’t approach and even when a girl likes them they find a way to blow it by chasing too hard or saying something like, “If I was a girl I’d wear those pantyhose too!” So what always happens there is I’ll be talking to a B girl and I’ll hear the guys speaking English in a mocking manner near me, but never loud enough so that I can make out what they’re saying. And then I run into them and I look them in the face and I say, “Were you saying something in English earlier? I couldn’t hear it.” They put on a fake smile and ask me where I’m from, but then when they walk away they’ll again mutter something unintelligible. I don’t blame them for hating because I am taking their beautiful women out of circulation, but they should reconsider their strategy of putting so much energy into me than on the women.

Sometimes you’ll get the partial cockblock when a girl persists in hovering around and not letting you isolate her friend. If she’s cuter than the girl you want, all you gotta do is engage her instead, insinuate that her friend is nice but not your “type,” and then invite her to the bar to make out with her instead. Of course this assumes that the original girl is being occupied by someone else. The strategy of making out with the cockblocker works in cultures where the cockblocker is not automatically a disgusting pig (e.g. United States). If you’re wondering why not go for the cockblocker instead, it’s because B girls have friends scattered all over the club and you may have invested in a girl based on incomplete information.

I’ve found that talking to the ugly B girl of the group to get to the pretty one rarely works. What happens is the pretty ones will back off and let her friend “have” you. B girls don’t seem to like competing for guys like American girls do. Perhaps they take their friendships more seriously maybe.

If a B girl is super fluent in English, and hits you with sarcastic or witty jokes, then you need to ramp up the dial on your cocky game and assume she is like an American girl, because she basically is. And when she calls out one of your jokes or teases as offensive, yet still stands there talking to you, keep doing it you big stud.

There is a lot of prejudices against Americans in Brazil, not just from the millions of American guys that come for sex tourism but also our way of imperializing the world. Even though Brazilians like English and American entertainment, most will tell you without hesitation that they prefer British or Europeans more. I can see the disappointment on some girls’ faces when I say Eu sou Americano. Fuck ‘em.

A B girl asking where you’re from is like an American girl ask you what you do—it doesn’t mean she’s interested. She needs to dig deeper than that before you can say she’s into you.

I used to think that it was better to tell a girl you’re staying for many months instead of say a week, but when you’re somewhere for a short time you have a built-in urgent storyline and can get her in bed faster well before she flakes out. I used to lie and insinuate I’d stay a long time (or at least be vague about it), but now I don’t bother. Since 99% of B girls you meet in the club would never consider a long-term relationship with you, there is very little advantage is saying you’re staying if you’re not looking for a long-term relationship yourself. Some girls like it that she can have sex with a guy who is going to disappear forever. Don’t underestimate the value of semi-anonymous sex.

In A Dead Bat In Paraguay I wrote:

While packed in the procession dancing along with my friends, Skol beer in hand, I realized how much worse Carnival would be if I didn’t know anyone. I wouldn’t know which blocos to pick and there would no one to tell me what the Carnival songs meant. And I definitely wouldn’t know that the cloudy white liquid in plastic bags shaped like condoms were caipirinhas. For foreigners who come alone, I don’t see how Carnival can mean anything more than getting drunk with a strange crowd.

The main feature of Carnival is the street parties called blocos. It usually starts as a prosession led by either a truck full of speakers or a band in a train car. Samba is the music of choice. They stick one song on repeat (if you’re lucky they change it up after a dozen or so plays), and a crushing crowd follows the lead car. Then the car stops and everyone focuses on drinking and talking. That’s Carnival.

The result is you go to a bloco, have a few beers, pretend you’re having a great time to another culture’s song and dance, and then go to another one. Carnival is basically drinking cheap booze with the mob, to music you don’t know or understand.

The crowd is so thick that if you lose your friends you’ll have problems finding them again. It’s unbearably hot and sweaty bodies will be pressed against you like in a game of pickup street ball. While the actual blocos are free, you have to pay five times more for already crappy lodgings. Gringo gouging is common.

As for the girls, most hang out in huge groups of friends, and at the blocos they run into even more friends. While you can pick up in a bloco, they are not designed for you to do so. Do you think a quality Brazilian girl celebrating her country’s prime cultural event with a dozen friends wants to hook up with a gringo who doesn’t speak Portuguese? Most of the hooking up happens within the social circle, so if you have no Brazilian friends you’re at a huge disadvantage.

The clubs are mostly empty at night because everyone is so tired from drinking during the day. Therefore it’s actually much harder to bang a Brazilian girl during Carnival than any other time. I’ll be in Rio for my second Carnival and I’m already preparing for a week of no new poon or going out. I plan to get some writing done and it’ll probably be my most productive week of the year.

In fact I have yet to meet someone who can explain to me why Carnival is worth it, but of course no one wants to say straight-up that it blows. But it does. Besides the colorful samba parade, which is great but only a few hours long, Carnival is a steaming piles of marketing bullshit designed to part you from your money. You won’t get laid, you won’t like the music, you won’t like the crowds, and you definitely won’t like the cheap booze. I really like Brazil, but I dread another Carnival.

New Years Eve is more of the same but with a pretty fireworks display. Save your money.

What a pleasant surprise this city was after waddling through the north of Brazil. A tip in the forum told me that it was a hotbed of Brazilian poon, so I decided to stop by for a night to check it out. I left ten days later.

The good: the female to male ratio here is extremely high and it was rare to be in a club with more guys than girls. The girls are beautiful and you can spend all night hitting on pretty ones without having to lower your standards (it’s continued experiences like this which make it impossible for me to permanently live in an American city besides maybe New York or Miami). It reminded me more of Cordoba, Argentina than anywhere else. Since Vitória is not a tourist destination you’ll likely be the only gringo in the club.

The bad: the girls are hard and snobby at the well-to-do clubs where attractiveness is highest. Out of six nights out I only got grimey on one, which for Brazil is not very good. The girls of Cordoba got far more excited at my gringo status than the girls here, and I’m nearly certain that Cordoba was in fact easier. Many girls here didn’t give me a chance or indulge my bad Portuguese for more than a minute. It wasn’t common to meet a girl who speaks English like I always do in Rio.

Another problem is there are no cheap accommodations—no pousadas or hostels. If you’re stopping by for only a weekend than stay at the pricey Ibis Vitoria hotel (R$125-155 a night), which is within walking distance of clubs in the posh Triangulo district. After a couple weeks of lodging in cheap pousadas the Ibis felt like a luxury penthouse.

If that’s too expensive for you then you have to head to sketchy centro a couple miles away, within walking distance of favelas. There your best option is the Cannes Palace, a clean hotel with wireless internet, air conditioning, and mini-fridge. It’ll set you back R$69 a night. If that’s still too much, then try the run-down Hotel Avenida two blocks away from the Cannes (Av. Presidente Florentino Avidos 347, tel. 27 3223 4317). It’s R$55 a night for their best rooms but you don’t get air conditioning or a fridge.

The key to not breaking the bank here is to go to clubs before 11 for their “happy” specials. Let me explain how it works. If you get to the club late you pay something like a R$40 or more cover and then drinks on top of that, but if you get there early then you pay R$50 for consumação, or consumption. This means your entire R$50 contribution goes towards drinks, which equals about six caipirinhas or three Johnny Walker Blacks. It’s almost like paying cover but drinking for free.

The most popular club in Triangulo is Casa (“Home”), which gets packed starting on Thursday night. Next door is Escritorio (“Office”), a bar owned by the same guy (start drinking at the office then continue at home—get it?). Most girls here are absolutely brutal but I won’t say it’s impossible. There are a handful of clubs nearby and they all seem similar. On weekends the streets pack and form a little bloco, making for fun street game attempts.

My top club recommendation is São Firmino, half a mile away from the Triangulo. It’s packed with girls that are slightly nicer than the ones in Triangulo but just as beautiful. This is where I got a little lucky, partially thanks to there being more girls than guys early on.

An alternative to Vitória is Belo Horizonte, the state capital of neighboring Minas Gerais. I haven’t been there yet but from what I read it seems like a larger version of Vitória but with nicer girls and a hostel. I also hear good things coming out of Porto Alegre and Brasilia, where being a gringo carries higher status than in Vitória and definitely Rio, which I believe is going through gringo fatigue.

I can’t say Vitória is better than Cordoba or Rio because of the accommodation problem, but with clubs that consistently pack them in and an excess of beautiful (but difficult) women, it’s worth your time if you don’t mind spending a little bit of money, especially since it’s only eight hours from Rio by bus. If you’re conversational in Portuguese then this is a must-visit city, as you have a decent chance of pulling.

Definitely Rio de Janeiro, maybe São Paulo and Florianopolis. If you come to Brazil chances are those are the cities you’ll visit first. But how about after that? Besides Amazon jungle tours or a visit to Iguazu falls, it’s not obvious where to go if you want to dig deeper into Brazil. So what I ended up doing was starting all the way up north in Fortaleza and in a month’s time worked my way down to Rio (traveling around 1,700 miles by bus).

Here’s where I went…

Fortaleza:

A large, plain city with several decent beaches to choose from. If you’re on a budget then head to the sketchy Praia de Iracema beach, which has rooms starting at 55 R$ (divide numbers in Brazilian reals by the exchange rate, which as of this writing is around 1.72). Get off on Avenida Beira Mar facing the beach and bargain with the over dozen hotels clustered nearby. If you have more money to spend then head to upmarket Praia do Futuro a couple miles away.

The great thing about Fortaleza is that the nightlife is easy to find. Simply go to Dragão do Mar, an area of bars, nightclubs, and restaurants within walking distance of Iracema. From Thursday through Sunday you’ll find something happening. Nearby Dragão do Mar is Mucuripe (Rua Travessa Maranguape, 108), a megaclub that has three different dance floors, including one that played decent house and American hip-hop when I went. The cover is 30 R$ and the girls have attitude, but it’s not bad for a visit.

Speaking of the girls, I’ve never seen so many husky women as I have in Fortaleza. It’s as if they’re all spawn of football players, which is interesting because the men appeared normal. While the women tend to be overweight with hammy arms, it’s their wide build which was most disturbing. This was the first city I visited after Rio, so the downgrade in attractiveness was shocking and took a bit away from the Brazilian woman mystique.

Natal:

Cleaner and smaller than Fortaleza, Natal has earned its spot in guidebooks as a city with tours around neighboring sand dunes and pretty beaches. The most common tour is the six-hour day trip up north to Genipabu Beach (60 R$). I hear trips to southern beaches are also nice but beware that all these excursions are extremely touristy, and if you can find an agency that rents buggies and has a decent map you may want to consider doing it yourself.

Praia Ponta Negra is the quaint tourist beach with clothing shops, modern restaurants, and a nightlife center. I stayed in Pousada Recanto das Flores for 50 R$ a night, a clean option located only one block away from the beach. I didn’t get to experience the nightlife but it’s around Rua Bezzera in Alto de Ponta Negra. The girls were cuter than in Fortaleza.

Praia de Pipa:

Further south you have Pipa, a beach village with laid-back hippie vibes. There are several nice beaches within walking distance of the center including Praia Madeiro, which is good for surfing (lessons and board rentals on the beach). On the main drag check out the restaurant with the big “Açai” sign for great sandwiches and… açai.

For nightlife there is usually something going on around Oz Music Bar starting late on Wednesday night, but on Thursday nights more people head to the beachfront in front of the reggae club. A block down from Oz (to the right towards the beach), there is a club with a hidden entrance that usually fills up on weekends. If you want to get laid here your best bet is to hit on the traveling gringas. They’ll be obvious to spot and you can open them with something like, “I have a feeling you speak English.”

The Brazilian girls that live in Pipa tend to be of the tattooed and dredlocked variety, but since this is a tourist destination you’ll get lot of well-maintained rich girls from cities nearby, though they’re usually traveling with family or significant others.

I stayed in the modern Pousada Rivas for 50 R$ a night. It came with a ceiling fan but if you pay a bit more you can get air conditioning. It was the best Pousada I’ve stayed at, with a nice pool, friendly family vibe, and a huge breakfast buffet that came with a great selection of juices, fruits, breads, cakes, meats, cheeses, and other goodies. I think the buffet is worth a stay here alone.

I greatly enjoyed my time in Pipa and definitely recommend a visit. It’s safe, offers good value, and is a refreshing break from the bigger cities.

Recife:

Besides being known as one of the most dangerous cities in Brazil (and for that matter the Americas), it also has the most dangerous beach. Environmental damage over the past two decades has destroyed food and breeding grounds for bull sharks, and they’ve responded by coming closer to shore and attacking humans. The local government has pretty much given up on the problem and is trying to turn the state from a beach spot into a “cultural” destination. The only culture I saw in upmarket Boa Viagem was dozens of streetwalkers, especially on the weekend, though people tell me I should have gone to colonial Olinda where most dirty backpackers stay.

Your nightlife options are the expensive asshole clubs scattered around Boa Viagem like U.K., Audrey, and Nox, or the commoner clubs in old town like Downtown and Burburinho where the quality is poor. All leave much to be desired.

If you visit Recife, and I recommend against it, stay in Piratas Da Praia for a budget option (35 R$/night) or Bamboo, a comfortable hotel for old gringo guys (75 R$/night). The latter allows you to bring guests back at no extra charge, but beware of the bar—all the girls that hang out there are professionals.

Salvador:

What an overrated piece of shit city. It’s literally one big favela that is not worth more than two hours of your time. Leave your bags at the bus station, visit the historic center, and then get the hell out of town to a place that’s not so dirty or dangerous. Or just watch the movie Cidade Baixa.

It’s the only city in Brazil where I didn’t feel safe walking around during the day. To give you an idea of how bad it is, at the hostel the clerk gave me a map and marked half of it as areas that I shouldn’t go to, leaving just a few square blocks that I could explore without surely getting robbed. If you insist on staying here for more than a minute, lodge in Barra instead.

I can’t wait to meet hippie gringos who tell me with a smug look on their face that they’re going to Salvador to experience “a more authentic Carnival.” I’ll respond by saying, “Let me guess, you’ve never actually been to Salvador.” You’ll like this city if you love to romanticize about poverty and note how starving little kids seem “so happy,” a month before you go back to your first-world lifestyle. Asshole.

Ilhéus:

A rustic city seven hours south of Salvador by bus, Ilhéus is often used by travelers as a waypoint to the beaches of Itacaré 90 minutes away, but I was beached out by this point and just wanted to chop up my trip further South. Ilhéus does have a pleasant small-town feel and isn’t bad for a couple days (reminds me of Tena, Ecuador a bit), but it won’t offer you much in terms of beautiful women or sights. Ask for a seaside room at the Pousada Brisa do Mar (73 3231 2644 / Av 2 de Julho 136) for 50 R$ a night. It’s within walking distance of the center.

Other Northern cities I’d visit if I had time and will:

Jericoacoara: Only two hours away from Fortaleza by bus and 4-wheel Jeep, Jeriocoacoara has a beautiful beach located in a fishing village, with good conditions for wind sports and surfing. It rivals Pipa in terms of hippie vibe.

João Pessoa: Along with a decent beach, I’m told this city has pumping nightlife on the weekends.

Maceio: Another choice for visiting nice beaches (see a pattern yet?). Nearby Praia do Gunga is supposedly the most beautiful beach in Brazil.

Here are some related topics on the travel forum:

• How To Prepare For Brazil
• Carnival In Salvador
• Beach Game Strategy
• Florianopolis Tips
• São Paulo Tips
• Good Country For Girls And Lifestyle?

In conclusion, the north of Brazil has some nice beaches and decent value, but it’s rougher and doesn’t have Brazil’s most beautiful women. For that you have to start in Minas Gerais or Espirito Santo, the two states north of Rio, and work your way south (I’ll have more about my visit to Espirito Santo in the future). Unless you got money and time to blow and want to learn about Brazilian culture, I’d skip the north.