I was going to name this post “I’m on a Boat!” for reasons soon to be discovered because I think my blog hasn’t had enough played out pop culture references, but I thought that would be too easy. How about a nice Wassssssssssssssssssssssssup! to get us going. Man, I also miss 7-Up’s zany advertising campaigns. Anyways, I’m not going to lie, I have been putting on a brave face for this blog because I didn’t want to use it to complain (disregard complaints about girls from the last post), but coming to Brazil has not been all great. I’ve been having fun but not this crazy awesome experience you often hear about from people who study abroad. These past few days have definitely started to bring me around though.
It started with our program director, Clara, offering us free tickets to see this guitarist and singer play. My naturally frugal nature could not resist free tickets, so I accepted not really knowing what the concert would be like. I ended up meeting some people from school in the packed theater and within minutes this guitarist came out and started rocking some flamenco guitar like I have never heard. He gave one of the best guitar performances I have seen and was then accompanied by another man and woman who sang and clapped, which sounds weird but their claps went surprising well with the guitar. At the end the woman started doing this stomp dance to the guitar and was getting really into it while people from the audience were cheering her on. They really brought down the house and it was a unique Latin American experience I’m glad I didn’t pass on a whim.
As cool as it was, that whole affair was overshadowed by going with my entire class of 50-some people on a boat tour around the bay. I can honestly say it was one of the most fun times I’ve had. We left early in the morning and got on this huge boat that took us to two different islands with basically no one on them. At the first island, we just jumped off the ship and swam to shore. We played soccer for about an hour and somehow ended up in a game of boys versus girls. The boys obviously won based on the scientific principle of boys rule, girls drool but I think I upset some girls after I scored my second goal and started into my usual routine of “sorry, we are playing sports not vacuuming” and “there is no Title 9 in Brazil, maybe you should just start getting my dinner ready” among others. People are still getting a grasp on my sense of humor. Fortunately, my speedo prevented me from running too much so my competitive nature did not go overboard.
Right before we got to the next island, they stopped the boat and everyone jumped off the boat and swam for about half an hour. Then we got to the next island which was completely deserted and ate a huge lunch of chicken, rice and beans and hung out on the beach for a few more hours. Oh I forgot to mention that the ship had a huge cooler and stereo system which led to a constant party the whole day. The drinks came out early and it didn’t take long for speedos to envelope the boat. My personal pick of bright blue on pale will be all the rage on Paris runways this spring, just wait. It was just so much fun, I can’t get over it. On the way back, as I was finishing the last of my many drinks, we caught the sunset and some genius put in a power mix of “Can I Kick It?” by Tribe and a series of Lauryn Hill/ Fugees jams which broke all attempts I had made to maintain myself. It was such a perfect end to a fun day which culminated in me somehow getting back to my apartment, walking in screaming “Boa!” and giving thumbs up to my host mom and passing out in my speedo. I would just like to take this time to reiterate how much fun this trip was and that everyone should have the pleasure of waking up confused in an excessively bright speedo after sailing around tropical islands all day.
Oh, there was lots of bikinis too if you are questioning why I mentioned speedos so much in this blog. Maybe I just like the freedom, I’m not trying to wear pajamas on the beach I was looking at the bikinis I swear no you’re gay!
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Escape from BA
Brazil is continuing to provide eventful weekends, I must say. On Thursday afternoon, I accepted an invitation from some friends to catch a bus to a beach further south called Praia do Forte and spend the weekend there. The hostel and bus ride were cheap so I agreed, thinking it would just be a few people. Unbeknownst to my knowledge, a group of girls who have already decided I’m weird got to come too. Lots of them fought each other and started all this drama. Luckily only the girls were really lame and the guys who invited me were cool and weren’t standing for their Real World shenanigans either. We decided to bail on all that and have fun; I know lame people in the USA but don’t ever have the chance to explore South American beach towns.
So once we decided we’d catch Laguna Beach on Tivo, we found the town was really cool. It was definitely designed for tourists but it was kind of nice to have tourist comforts after being in the city for so long. The air felt so clean and the water was blue and beautiful. The palm trees jutted into the water just like a post card, it was amazing. There was a small crowd by the entrance to the beach but you could easily walk a little father down and have the whole place to yourself. When I went exploring with my two white friends, Cole and Riley, we went unhassled by any employees in the really expensive resorts and we were able to get to some pretty cool remote spots. Finally, my unnecessarily vast amount of freckles has come in handy. We found some pretty cool palms hanging over the water by one resort and Cole taught me how to climb palm trees. He is one of those robot guys who is just naturally good at everything and therefore was shocked that I didn’t know how to climb palm trees. “Dude you are from Mendocino, how do you know how to climb palm trees?”
There was also a crazy tide that sucked out in the morning about… well I don’t know a very far distance and left some pretty cool tide pools in front of a lighthouse. There were old Brazilian men fishing off the edges and you could swim out to boats pretty easy. We caught crabs (yes, yes jokes) and found some awesome live coral that looked like octopi (grammar check) spread over rocks. The hostel we stayed at was also really nice and had very comfy hammocks that were being fought for by the end of the weekend. They also gave a wristband for free entrance into this sea turtle restoration project that was part of the town. The project had a bunch of huge sea turtles but we are all pretty disappointed to find out you couldn’t touch or swim with them. Some people claimed they swam with some in the wild later in the day while I was eating but I’m choosing not believe them. It started to rain when we were debating to go making the decision to leave much easier. Overall, it was a pretty cool place and definitely a relaxing break from the crowds and noise of the city.
So to sum up this weekend: jerky girls, cool beach, tide pools, hammocks, sea turtles.
So once we decided we’d catch Laguna Beach on Tivo, we found the town was really cool. It was definitely designed for tourists but it was kind of nice to have tourist comforts after being in the city for so long. The air felt so clean and the water was blue and beautiful. The palm trees jutted into the water just like a post card, it was amazing. There was a small crowd by the entrance to the beach but you could easily walk a little father down and have the whole place to yourself. When I went exploring with my two white friends, Cole and Riley, we went unhassled by any employees in the really expensive resorts and we were able to get to some pretty cool remote spots. Finally, my unnecessarily vast amount of freckles has come in handy. We found some pretty cool palms hanging over the water by one resort and Cole taught me how to climb palm trees. He is one of those robot guys who is just naturally good at everything and therefore was shocked that I didn’t know how to climb palm trees. “Dude you are from Mendocino, how do you know how to climb palm trees?”
There was also a crazy tide that sucked out in the morning about… well I don’t know a very far distance and left some pretty cool tide pools in front of a lighthouse. There were old Brazilian men fishing off the edges and you could swim out to boats pretty easy. We caught crabs (yes, yes jokes) and found some awesome live coral that looked like octopi (grammar check) spread over rocks. The hostel we stayed at was also really nice and had very comfy hammocks that were being fought for by the end of the weekend. They also gave a wristband for free entrance into this sea turtle restoration project that was part of the town. The project had a bunch of huge sea turtles but we are all pretty disappointed to find out you couldn’t touch or swim with them. Some people claimed they swam with some in the wild later in the day while I was eating but I’m choosing not believe them. It started to rain when we were debating to go making the decision to leave much easier. Overall, it was a pretty cool place and definitely a relaxing break from the crowds and noise of the city.
So to sum up this weekend: jerky girls, cool beach, tide pools, hammocks, sea turtles.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Country Grammar
My Portuguese, though still pretty bad, is improving a quick rate. I can pretty much understand my host moms if they speak to me like I’m five or an idiot and have now added “I’m going” to my two heavily employed staples of “I like” and “I want”. We have been watching telenovelas together (I found time for it in between my strict regimen of push ups, eating red meat and beating up nerds, that’s right), which has helped too. The most popular show in Brazil is a telenovela that is set in India which really weirded me out at first. A show with South Americans speaking Portuguese and living in India just doesn’t seem right, I feel like America should be involved in some way. I have been able to pick up some good words from it though and have actually gotten a general idea of whats going on. Man I cannot wait for that slut Josefina to get hers. Anyways, during commercial breaks we have conversations and my moms are pretty funny. Barbara told me she saw my picture and didn’t want me because I looked scary. In my defense, the hair was looking pretty crazy from driving with the windows down and the Brazilian Consulate said they would reject your visa if you smiled so I had a pretty hard look on. They also both agreed my old hair was nice but my new hair is much more bonito. I also regretfully managed to tell them my dad is Italian and now they won’t stop bringing up this soccer game where Brazil beat Italy 2-0. “They didn’t even score one goal!” I’m not sure what game they are even talking about and brought up the fact that Italy won the last World Cup but was promptly ignored. Leana came up to me during breakfast today and whispered “Cero” while holding a big zero in my face with her fingers then just walked away looking at me like I was a sucker. Damn these people love soccer.
Domingo! Domingo! Domingo!
This past weekend’s events included bump-and-grinding with my 40 something instructor during a Samba lesson and singing “Twist and Shout” in unison with an entire bar, but all were trumped by going to my first Brazilian soccer game. There are two rival teams in Bahia (the place where I’m at), Vitoria and Bahia FC, which each have their respective die hard fans. What I did not realize is how intense these fans really were. I went with a big group from my school to watch Vitoria play Palmeras, one of the best and most hated teams in the Brazilian league (at least according to my host mom’s brother). The game also had some extra important relevance revolving around league positioning for reasons explained to me in rapid Portuguese that I pretended to understand. Whatever it was, the Vitoria fans were operating on a level the likes of which I had never seen.
As soon as I stepped off the bus, it was unreal. The stadium is dug into a big hill and only high, decaying prison-esque walls are visible from the outside. People were everywhere, singing, yelling, fighting, while mobbing into the stadium. Friends who arrived early had to go inside because Vitoria fans were throwing homemade bombs at the visiting Palmeras fans. Yes, bombs. Don’t worry though, there was riot police throughout the entire junction. The police are very intimidating; they wear military fatigues and have giant machine guns and batons, which, it seems, they don’t hesitate to use. Even if I was a native white person, I don’t think I would like them. To be honest, I’m surprised I made it inside.
Walking in the stadium is very daunting. You enter at the top of the hill through the prison wall and look down on a u-shaped sea of screaming red and black. The stadium has watch towers, high fences and a jungle barrier; its really how I imagined a prison here just with a soccer game going in the middle. Did I mention the intimidating, prison like atmosphere yet? Because it was all up in there.
After not being able to find good seats in the stands, my friend claims he was able to parlay his immense charm into wristbands to get to good seats we didn’t pay for. Frankly, I think the wrist band lady was just scared of the sunburned drunk man with broken speech and poor grammar yelling in her face, but either way the wrist bands he got us were for seats 4 rows up from center field. Or at least from the high fence and cop-laden barrier that separates the field from the stands. Vitoria scored the first goal and the stadium absolutely lost it. I have never seen anything like it. The entire left side of the stadium, probably over 15,000 people, ran across the bleachers and back in unison while jumping, screaming and setting off fireworks and smoke bombs. Five GIGANTIC flags that covered about ten rows sprung up out of nowhere and began to sway to the many Vitoria chants and songs that began to thunder through the stadium. Its very hard to capture in words, but it just seemed like pure chaos spread all over 25,000 people . The energy surging through the stadium was unbelievable. Then Palmeras scored two goals; their brave traveling fan section sent out a loud celebration and a riotous feeling seemed to creep over the crowd. At the half, police in full riot gear who were surrounded by another barrier of riot police with K9s escorted the refs off the field. That’s right, it was felt that not one but TWO barriers of police and attack dogs were necessary to get the refs safely off the field.
Luckily, for entertainment and safety reasons, Vitoria came back in the second half and scored 2 goals to win the game. People flooded out into the streets afterwards celebrating and harassing Palmeras fans. Traffic was gridlocked as people clogged the streets celebrating. It was a very incredible experience that has already made me decides to come back for the World Cup, which I imagine would, somehow, will be even more intense.
As soon as I stepped off the bus, it was unreal. The stadium is dug into a big hill and only high, decaying prison-esque walls are visible from the outside. People were everywhere, singing, yelling, fighting, while mobbing into the stadium. Friends who arrived early had to go inside because Vitoria fans were throwing homemade bombs at the visiting Palmeras fans. Yes, bombs. Don’t worry though, there was riot police throughout the entire junction. The police are very intimidating; they wear military fatigues and have giant machine guns and batons, which, it seems, they don’t hesitate to use. Even if I was a native white person, I don’t think I would like them. To be honest, I’m surprised I made it inside.
Walking in the stadium is very daunting. You enter at the top of the hill through the prison wall and look down on a u-shaped sea of screaming red and black. The stadium has watch towers, high fences and a jungle barrier; its really how I imagined a prison here just with a soccer game going in the middle. Did I mention the intimidating, prison like atmosphere yet? Because it was all up in there.
After not being able to find good seats in the stands, my friend claims he was able to parlay his immense charm into wristbands to get to good seats we didn’t pay for. Frankly, I think the wrist band lady was just scared of the sunburned drunk man with broken speech and poor grammar yelling in her face, but either way the wrist bands he got us were for seats 4 rows up from center field. Or at least from the high fence and cop-laden barrier that separates the field from the stands. Vitoria scored the first goal and the stadium absolutely lost it. I have never seen anything like it. The entire left side of the stadium, probably over 15,000 people, ran across the bleachers and back in unison while jumping, screaming and setting off fireworks and smoke bombs. Five GIGANTIC flags that covered about ten rows sprung up out of nowhere and began to sway to the many Vitoria chants and songs that began to thunder through the stadium. Its very hard to capture in words, but it just seemed like pure chaos spread all over 25,000 people . The energy surging through the stadium was unbelievable. Then Palmeras scored two goals; their brave traveling fan section sent out a loud celebration and a riotous feeling seemed to creep over the crowd. At the half, police in full riot gear who were surrounded by another barrier of riot police with K9s escorted the refs off the field. That’s right, it was felt that not one but TWO barriers of police and attack dogs were necessary to get the refs safely off the field.
Luckily, for entertainment and safety reasons, Vitoria came back in the second half and scored 2 goals to win the game. People flooded out into the streets afterwards celebrating and harassing Palmeras fans. Traffic was gridlocked as people clogged the streets celebrating. It was a very incredible experience that has already made me decides to come back for the World Cup, which I imagine would, somehow, will be even more intense.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
A Weekend At Himundo's
This past weekend was pretty intense. So far on my trip, I have considered myself unsusceptible to what some lesser beings call “culture shock”. That is some psychologists’ term for wussies who can’t adapt. That was until Saturday at any rate. I woke up relatively early and as I sleepily went through breakfast my host moms gave me two options: go to an island for the day for a family member’s birthday or go to a party at night. I wanted to go out with some people from school to watch Brazil’s World Cup qualifying game at night, so I chose an easy trip to an island, or what I thought would be one. I figured we would drive to the ferry terminal, wait in line for a few minutes and sit on a beach. But then we left and everything changed.
During breakfast, Leana (one of my host moms) mentioned picking some things up for the store to bring to the party. Yeah sure, whatever you want to do. It was Brazilian Independence Day this past weekend, so there were even more people than normal on the streets and, well, everywhere for the 3 day weekend. We went into a grocery store and it was a total madhouse. We picked a bunch of cases of beer and soda and waited in this huge line and when we got to the front, Leana told Sandra, the German exchange student in our building, and I to pay for these presents. I didn’t realize I had to pay and had no money. Neither did Sandra. Then I’m really not sure what happened; next thing I knew we were in the street flooded with people and Sandra and Leana were arguing in, Portuguese and Portuguese-German respectively, about what we were doing. I just told them I’d go to an ATM to quell tempers and before I knew it had spent 38 reals on beer for people I didn’t know going to some place I didn’t know. I just really felt like I had no idea what was going on and we hadn’t even made it to the ferry terminal.
When we did get there after a long walk carrying all the cases of beer for the women, things didn’t get much better. The line was insane and it took us almost three hours to make it onto the boat. The baking sun and smell of pee accompanied us the entire time. While waiting I began to calculate time and when I asked my host mom when we’d come back, she was just like, “who knows, we’ll probably just spend the night.” That really brought things to ahead for me. I didn’t think I’d have a problem adjusting to “Brazilian time” but the stores and ferry pushed my limits and now this was over the top. I didn’t want to spend the night or even really go but I didn’t say anything because frankly I didn’t know how too, without hurting her feelings at least. By the time I was on the boat (which was overcrowded and appeared to have very shotty looking sonstruction), I decided to just roll with the punches and have some fun because my three hours or 38 bucks weren’t coming back. I was glad I did.
The ferry ride was calm and actually quite fun. Sandra and I talked with some little girls across from us who had never seen a person with so many freckles and were impressed by the fact that we had both ridden on airplanes. The water was a very bright blue when we arrived to Ilha Grande (I’m not actually sure that’s its name) and I couldn’t wait to jump in, but first we had to find the house. As we walked away from the dock the paved roads turned into dirt and palm trees lined a beautiful view of the city.
Within ten minutes we had arrived and I was introduced to the man of the house and the hour, Himundo, also known (appropriately) as Hi. He welcomed me to his home in broken English and immediately took me under his wing. He sat me down with his friends at a table while the women went off to help cook and poured me an entire glass full of whiskey, which I could not refuse without insulting him because whiskey is an imported delicacy here. This would begin a day of constant, unabridged drinking. Because its so hot here, Brazilians have developed a system where one giant, cold beer is kept in a coozy in the middle of the table and everyone is poured small glasses; otherwise, your drink would just get hot before you could finish it. An ingenious plan, no doubt, but not one concerned with measuring how much you have drank. The entire time I was there, my cup was just being refilled. Another beer is opened and poured before your glass is empty. The drinks were paired with the best Churrasco steak of my life. My program took us to a fancy steakhouse but this cut charred in the island beach house was much better. Unfortunatly though, it did little to stem the tide of alcohol in my body.
After I finished eating, I managed to sneak away from the drinks and went to the down to the beach. As soon as I jumped in, some local kids swam over to me to practice their English. They were using pieces of packing styrofoam to try and ride the waves and I bodysurfed with them and we practiced the numbers 1 to 20 in both languages. The water just seemed to be the perfect temperature; warm but still chill enough to still cool you down. We proceeded to name fruits and began launching into flips. When their mom came and told them they had to leave, they begged to stay and bargained 15 more minutes out of her. Its funny how kids having fun act the same way in different parts of the world. Anyway, I got out with them and shared my towel and their mom offered to let us stay at their house, but we maintained we had a party to get back too and what a party it would become.
Hi was now insisting everyone, especially me, samba dance. He also dropped a very poetic version of Imagine by John Lennon on the keyboard, which involved some pretty sweet new lyrics given his limited English vocabulary. I mentioned in between songs that we should probably start getting a move on to the ferry. We had our final drink and about 9 final drinks later the last ferry was gone and we were on a way to a karaoke bar to watch the soccer game and, of course, drink some more. Brazil beat Argentina and karaoke went on for quite a while at the bar. At this point, I didn't hesitate to belt out the only song available in English, “My Heart Will Go On” by Celine Dione. I thought I was being ravished with praise for my spectacular performance but it turned out Brazil had just scored a goal. On our way back, the streets were clogged with people celebrating Independence Day. A band played on top of a big truck and lights strung between 2 palm trees dimly lit a courtyard packed with gyrating bodies. After we got back, I went with Hi’s daughters and their boyfriends to the dance and stayed Sambaing until 4:00 in the morning. At 2:00, I was like this will stop, no one can possibly dance for this long, but they weren’t even phased. I thought the same thing at 3:00, but it just kept going. Out of all the times I have stuck out as that random white person in my life, I can honestly say this by far took the cake. One week ago I was in a rich suburb, drinking lattes and discussing the pros and cons of universal healthcare and now I was the only white person sambaing at 4:00 in the morning on a tropical island full of black people who spoke no English. We walked back along the palms under nothing but moonlight and, needless to say, I passed out hard.
I awoke just a few hours later to more Samba music blaring from the house. There is never enough Samba in this country. My back was in knots from sleeping on the bad air mattress I shared with another person and when I got into the kitchen Hi greeted me with a shot of whiskey. I thought he was joking, until he downed mine and took his right after. It was 8:00 in the morning; simply put this man is an unadulterated beast. He then went to the fridge and offered me a beer. I told him that I just badly needed some water and he looked at me laughing and said one of my now favorite quotes, “There is water in beer, man”. Ah Himundo, So true, So true. He sat back with his beer, layed his baby granddaughter over his gigantic stomach, looked out to the blue ocean and said, “This is guhd”. Still aching, I couldn’t have agreed more.
During breakfast, Leana (one of my host moms) mentioned picking some things up for the store to bring to the party. Yeah sure, whatever you want to do. It was Brazilian Independence Day this past weekend, so there were even more people than normal on the streets and, well, everywhere for the 3 day weekend. We went into a grocery store and it was a total madhouse. We picked a bunch of cases of beer and soda and waited in this huge line and when we got to the front, Leana told Sandra, the German exchange student in our building, and I to pay for these presents. I didn’t realize I had to pay and had no money. Neither did Sandra. Then I’m really not sure what happened; next thing I knew we were in the street flooded with people and Sandra and Leana were arguing in, Portuguese and Portuguese-German respectively, about what we were doing. I just told them I’d go to an ATM to quell tempers and before I knew it had spent 38 reals on beer for people I didn’t know going to some place I didn’t know. I just really felt like I had no idea what was going on and we hadn’t even made it to the ferry terminal.
When we did get there after a long walk carrying all the cases of beer for the women, things didn’t get much better. The line was insane and it took us almost three hours to make it onto the boat. The baking sun and smell of pee accompanied us the entire time. While waiting I began to calculate time and when I asked my host mom when we’d come back, she was just like, “who knows, we’ll probably just spend the night.” That really brought things to ahead for me. I didn’t think I’d have a problem adjusting to “Brazilian time” but the stores and ferry pushed my limits and now this was over the top. I didn’t want to spend the night or even really go but I didn’t say anything because frankly I didn’t know how too, without hurting her feelings at least. By the time I was on the boat (which was overcrowded and appeared to have very shotty looking sonstruction), I decided to just roll with the punches and have some fun because my three hours or 38 bucks weren’t coming back. I was glad I did.
The ferry ride was calm and actually quite fun. Sandra and I talked with some little girls across from us who had never seen a person with so many freckles and were impressed by the fact that we had both ridden on airplanes. The water was a very bright blue when we arrived to Ilha Grande (I’m not actually sure that’s its name) and I couldn’t wait to jump in, but first we had to find the house. As we walked away from the dock the paved roads turned into dirt and palm trees lined a beautiful view of the city.
Within ten minutes we had arrived and I was introduced to the man of the house and the hour, Himundo, also known (appropriately) as Hi. He welcomed me to his home in broken English and immediately took me under his wing. He sat me down with his friends at a table while the women went off to help cook and poured me an entire glass full of whiskey, which I could not refuse without insulting him because whiskey is an imported delicacy here. This would begin a day of constant, unabridged drinking. Because its so hot here, Brazilians have developed a system where one giant, cold beer is kept in a coozy in the middle of the table and everyone is poured small glasses; otherwise, your drink would just get hot before you could finish it. An ingenious plan, no doubt, but not one concerned with measuring how much you have drank. The entire time I was there, my cup was just being refilled. Another beer is opened and poured before your glass is empty. The drinks were paired with the best Churrasco steak of my life. My program took us to a fancy steakhouse but this cut charred in the island beach house was much better. Unfortunatly though, it did little to stem the tide of alcohol in my body.
After I finished eating, I managed to sneak away from the drinks and went to the down to the beach. As soon as I jumped in, some local kids swam over to me to practice their English. They were using pieces of packing styrofoam to try and ride the waves and I bodysurfed with them and we practiced the numbers 1 to 20 in both languages. The water just seemed to be the perfect temperature; warm but still chill enough to still cool you down. We proceeded to name fruits and began launching into flips. When their mom came and told them they had to leave, they begged to stay and bargained 15 more minutes out of her. Its funny how kids having fun act the same way in different parts of the world. Anyway, I got out with them and shared my towel and their mom offered to let us stay at their house, but we maintained we had a party to get back too and what a party it would become.
Hi was now insisting everyone, especially me, samba dance. He also dropped a very poetic version of Imagine by John Lennon on the keyboard, which involved some pretty sweet new lyrics given his limited English vocabulary. I mentioned in between songs that we should probably start getting a move on to the ferry. We had our final drink and about 9 final drinks later the last ferry was gone and we were on a way to a karaoke bar to watch the soccer game and, of course, drink some more. Brazil beat Argentina and karaoke went on for quite a while at the bar. At this point, I didn't hesitate to belt out the only song available in English, “My Heart Will Go On” by Celine Dione. I thought I was being ravished with praise for my spectacular performance but it turned out Brazil had just scored a goal. On our way back, the streets were clogged with people celebrating Independence Day. A band played on top of a big truck and lights strung between 2 palm trees dimly lit a courtyard packed with gyrating bodies. After we got back, I went with Hi’s daughters and their boyfriends to the dance and stayed Sambaing until 4:00 in the morning. At 2:00, I was like this will stop, no one can possibly dance for this long, but they weren’t even phased. I thought the same thing at 3:00, but it just kept going. Out of all the times I have stuck out as that random white person in my life, I can honestly say this by far took the cake. One week ago I was in a rich suburb, drinking lattes and discussing the pros and cons of universal healthcare and now I was the only white person sambaing at 4:00 in the morning on a tropical island full of black people who spoke no English. We walked back along the palms under nothing but moonlight and, needless to say, I passed out hard.
I awoke just a few hours later to more Samba music blaring from the house. There is never enough Samba in this country. My back was in knots from sleeping on the bad air mattress I shared with another person and when I got into the kitchen Hi greeted me with a shot of whiskey. I thought he was joking, until he downed mine and took his right after. It was 8:00 in the morning; simply put this man is an unadulterated beast. He then went to the fridge and offered me a beer. I told him that I just badly needed some water and he looked at me laughing and said one of my now favorite quotes, “There is water in beer, man”. Ah Himundo, So true, So true. He sat back with his beer, layed his baby granddaughter over his gigantic stomach, looked out to the blue ocean and said, “This is guhd”. Still aching, I couldn’t have agreed more.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Fresh like the First Day of School
School has now gone into full swing…well kind of. Its very nice for me because it takes me less than five minutes to walk to school and classes start on Brazilian time (late). My host mom held me by the arm and walked me to school on the first day too, she is so sweet! We took a placement test for Portuguese and I have switched up from beginner to intermediate (no biggy), at least I think so. We were learning the alphabet in the first class and now I am doing full words so I think that fits accordingly. We also started our Brazilian history/sociology type course where the T.A. scolded us for being rich Americans and told us we live in the bubble of Salvador and we haven’t experienced the real Brazil. I wasn’t sure if we were supposed to apologize but it looks like its going to be a great class. He does have a point though. Our neighborhood does seem very nice, especially considering Salvador is the poorest city in Brazil (which says a lot). There are other nice parts though. Last night, I went with some of the other kids from school to the Pelourinho district of the city, which is like the old colonial section, and they had a band playing and food and drink stands all along the street with lots of people out. It was kind of sketchy but relatively safe at the same time. I feel like that pretty much could describe my experience here all together so far. Oh and I’m trying to get tickets to watch the Brazilian national team take on Chile in something for the World Cup I’m pretty sure. They never play in Salvador either so people are getting extra excited for the game…wish me luck!
So Fresh, So Clean...So Full
My eating has now become out of control. My host moms have become personally offended by my skinniness and are on a mission to get me “big and strong”. It is impossible to eat this much. I eat a huge breakfast, go to class and come back two hours later to find an even bigger lunch. I never have time to digest anything let alone add more to my stomach. I believe everyone knows my pro attitude for eating but I am only one man. I guess I sound like a person complaining he has too much money, this isn’t a real problem, I just feel like it is an unachievable task. I think because most other really skinny people are living in poverty they think they need to step their cooking games up. I am trying to explain I’m just naturally skinny but failing.
In other news, my bags finally arrived and I am feeling good with new clothes and freshly shampooed hair. When I got out of the shower, all my clothes were folded and put away and my bag was stowed in the closet. These ladies are working on a different level.
In other news, my bags finally arrived and I am feeling good with new clothes and freshly shampooed hair. When I got out of the shower, all my clothes were folded and put away and my bag was stowed in the closet. These ladies are working on a different level.
Leave it to Beaver...or Brazilians
Hey whats up everyone…I’m sorry to report that since I have settled down my life has become far the less kooky, so I don’t know how exciting this blog will remain, but I would still love to tell you about my life here because I’m conceded. I have since found out that my two host moms are cousins, not lesbians, aliens or secret government robots like some theories may have suggested. I must admit, at first, I was disappointed to be living with just two older ladies instead of with some Brazilians my age but now I am LOVING it. I can do no wrong, they are all about me. Since moving here, I have discovered I am incredibly bonito, a terrific eater, have great hair, a fast learner, the list goes on and on. I seriously don’t know why we have people on Prozac, we just send depressed people to a Brazilian house; I have never had such an ego boost in my life. Anyways, they are really great. Barbara works at a hospital and is gone most of the day and Leena (not sure about spelling) takes care of the house and students here.
My Portuguese is improving pretty quickly too. I picked up a pretty good tip that many words in Portuguese are the same in Spanish but with the letter “r” replacing “l”. For example, playa in Spanish is praya in Portuguese, plaza is prasa. It is very helpful but I am having trouble using it without feeling like I’m making fun of Chinese people trying to speak Spanish. It is assisting in furthering conversations with my host moms though. I have made some moves to get further into their graces as well. They asked me if I liked cute girls and I replied (still working at the language, mind you) ,“Yes, but it is necessary to be a good person too”– it was over. They were telling their friends about how thoughtful I was and I think they are trying to hook me up with their nieces now. Oh yes, their family is always coming by. They had a bunch of people over on Sunday and everyone had me read off this list I have with the names of foods translated into Portuguese so they could make fun of the names of things in English; “pineapple” had them rolling. It was pretty funny to experience. I tried to talk about soccer with them but was quickly exposed as a fraud, though we all concurred Ronaldinlho was very ugly (there was a spirited debate about Kaka).
I am also pleased to report that I am now eating like a true don. Every meal is huge portions, always with plates of fresh fruit and a pitcher of fresh squeezed juice. Its amazing, I’ve already decided this trip was worth it based on the meals alone. I think I have eaten more in these few days than I have in the last month. In other words, life at home is so far so good…next stop schoolio (the Portuguese isn’t that quick).
My Portuguese is improving pretty quickly too. I picked up a pretty good tip that many words in Portuguese are the same in Spanish but with the letter “r” replacing “l”. For example, playa in Spanish is praya in Portuguese, plaza is prasa. It is very helpful but I am having trouble using it without feeling like I’m making fun of Chinese people trying to speak Spanish. It is assisting in furthering conversations with my host moms though. I have made some moves to get further into their graces as well. They asked me if I liked cute girls and I replied (still working at the language, mind you) ,“Yes, but it is necessary to be a good person too”– it was over. They were telling their friends about how thoughtful I was and I think they are trying to hook me up with their nieces now. Oh yes, their family is always coming by. They had a bunch of people over on Sunday and everyone had me read off this list I have with the names of foods translated into Portuguese so they could make fun of the names of things in English; “pineapple” had them rolling. It was pretty funny to experience. I tried to talk about soccer with them but was quickly exposed as a fraud, though we all concurred Ronaldinlho was very ugly (there was a spirited debate about Kaka).
I am also pleased to report that I am now eating like a true don. Every meal is huge portions, always with plates of fresh fruit and a pitcher of fresh squeezed juice. Its amazing, I’ve already decided this trip was worth it based on the meals alone. I think I have eaten more in these few days than I have in the last month. In other words, life at home is so far so good…next stop schoolio (the Portuguese isn’t that quick).
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