Tonight I had the opportunity to go out with friends, but I decided to stay in instead. Why would I do such a thing? The one word answer can be found in the title of this entry. If that doesn't convince you, read on. I think there exists no word more fit to describe the current disposition of my mind.
The first reason has to do with health. Overcoming today’s sore throat and the day before yesterday’s fever were both unpleasantly familiar tasks. When I realized that I had a fever, I debated whether or not I should tell my Brazilian family that I was under the weather. Not because they wouldn’t have done anything to help me, but because the thought, “This sure is better when Mom is here,” was in my head. I ended up keeping to myself. And even now that I’m almost 100 percent, I notice a differences in my own behavior. Normally at this stage of any healing process, I would be convinced that I’m recovered enough to carry on with life and go out. But such experiences--missing two football games from pneumonia and leaving senior prom early from strep throat--give me an excuse to stay at home and indulge in feelings of homesickness.
The second reason has to do with American sports. The New Ulm Cathedral Greyhounds just won the school’s first state tournament. I watched it online (with two Rysdahls and one Fischer), but I can’t ignore the fact that I wish I could have been at the dome to watch my boys live and celebrate with my friends. The selfish part of me dares to ask, “Why couldn’t you have waited to win state until I came back?” to which the unselfish part of me replies, “Shut up.”
The third reason has a little to do with science. According to surveys done (I think) by psychologists who work with Rotary, normally at four months exchange students feel the most homesick. I don’t exactly understand why four months is the magic number, but there’s nothing about the proposition that makes me want to disprove it. Even if the graph were a work of fiction and I were only under the illusion of homesickness simply because I know how long I’ve been here, I have a hard time dismissing the feelings that I’m experiencing as unworthy of my own time.
The word to describe it all can be partially defined as follows:
“Portuguese and Galician word difficult to translate, which describes a deep emotional state of nostalgic longing for something or someone that one was fond of and which is lost… In the latter half of the twentieth century, it became associated with the feeling of longing for one’s homeland.”
For those of you who enjoy reading Wikipedia articles about etymologies and such, I strongly recommend this one.
In Brazil, the official holiday is not officially celebrated until January 30th. But with Thanksgiving having just passed and Christmas creeping over the horizon, Saudade Season may as well have begun.
Please don’t get the impression that I’m looking for pity. Saudade is not synonymous with sadness. The truth is, I feel grateful right now. To be numb to this feeling would be unfortunate--in a similar way that it would be unfortunate to not feel sad after the passing of a family member or close friend. The reason I miss home is that I know home is worth missing. And if I can't be home, I might as well be in the place I call my house--at least for tonight.
Congratulations to all Greyhounds; once again, I couldn’t be prouder. Thanks for reading.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Traffic
In Londrina, people drive fast but not because they’re in a hurry. Cars don’t follow the traffic laws, yet they all still seem to be on the same page with one another. Public transportation makes it easy and affordable to get wherever you need to be, but sometimes it takes more than an hour to travel about five miles. Motorcyclists are crazy, but nearly all of them wear helmets. Stop signs are treated as suggestions -- sometimes interpreted by drivers as “do not change speed,” other times interpreted as “speed up” -- while speed bumps offer convincing reasons to decrease velocity. Taxis are expensive, but it’s better to pay someone than to be robbed. Drivers consciously avoid potholes and other cars, but pedestrians have to be careful. I can’t think of a great word to describe this traffic, so I’ll just mention ‘hectic” and let the reader decide for him or herself.
I don’t know if there are more or less serious traffic accidents in Brazil than in the States, but in my first weeks I would enter cars with the feeling that crashing was a serious possibility. Since then, I’ve become more comfortable with the fact that the lane lines on the road seem to be ignored, and that some drivers change lanes without looking or signaling. I think that they think that any potential collision mate is and ought to be on the lookout for such occasions. A few days ago a technologically distracted driver in front and to the right of us made a blind lane change, almost crashing into us. My host father hit the breaks and sighed, nonchalantly saying, “Falando por celular.” I would bed his heart rate went up at least a little (mine did), but on the outside he remained completely relaxed, almost uninterested. Close calls happen all the time, although it seems people never honk their horns.
“Driving” is included in the four big no-nos of Rotary Youth Exchange. I don’t intend to break that rule, but if I did I would first have to learn how to operate a stick shift because that’s what most people in Londrina own. In the beginning of my exchange I felt like a nuisance asking for rides, and at times I had to summon up courage in order to do so. It wasn’t because my host parents gave discouraging looks when I asked for rides, but rather, because they never said no. I never knew if it bothered them or not. I’d had a car to drive since I was sixteen, so the feeling of needing to be chauffeured around all the time was uncomfortable. That was part of the reason I didn’t join the weight room at the sports club; getting to and from AREL every day seemed like an onerous task. I don’t remember exactly when -- I think after being in Londrina for over a month -- I asked my host dad if there was a bus schedule that I could look at or if he could just show me how to use the bus. He said yes, but he never said when this was to happen.
After more than a month of not-happening, my desire to leave the house overcame my desire to not be a nuisance, so I joined the gym and started asking for rides to the sports club almost every day of the week. I don’t think going to the club was ever a problem, because my parents leave the house in the afternoon anyway. It was coming back that required a special trip. A few days of playing the taxi who works for free caused my host dad to tell me it was time to learn how to use the bus. (I like to think of it as my personal transformation from a stop sign to a speed bump.) My host parents were nice enough to buy me a bus card, but now I have to take the much slower bus home from the sports club. By car, the trip is about 15 minutes. By bus, it’s more than an hour. And I was just getting used to my new lack of independence.
One time I saw a lady fall off her motorcycle. My favorite primary source told me that there is about one motorcycle accident each day in Londrina. When I asked why, he said because the cyclists don’t know how to ride. Well then how did they get their motorcycles in the first place? The response: there is a deal where a person can buy, not lease, a motorcycle for about 100 reais per month for 20 months, the equivalent of about 1,200 dollars, and the sellers will sell to anybody. The deal is appealing because most people with a job can afford it, and it’s faster and more convenient than taking the bus. It’s unappealing because it’s dangerous. The motorcyclists that I’ve seen really are reckless, and lots of them are ill-trained and unlicensed. The driving age is eighteen for motorcycles and cars, but there is a sixteen year-old boy in my class who told me that he drives a motorcycle. My host dad told me that because of there are not enough police in Londrina, it’s difficult to catch people riding illegally -- in two senses of the word: weaving through traffic at high speeds and operating without documentation.
It's easy to argue that one shouldn't drive recklessly, but here's some evidence. On the 22nd of October, I spoke with a distressed Brazilian woman who experienced some culture shock after returning to Brazil from America and seeing a bloody, dead man on the streets of Londrina. He had been struck by a car.
I have a love-hate relationship with taxis. Here are the positives about calling a taxi: I get a discount because I’m an exchange student, and I’m fairly certain that, to begin with, taxis here are less expensive than in America; I don’t have to bother my host parents up at 4:00 am; and its safer than walking alone in the dark. I have an Australian friend who has been mugged three times here. Here is the negative: even though I get a discount, it’s still counterintuitive for me to dish out that kind of cash. After all, I am currently unemployed. Normally, I’ve had to pay between 10 and 20 reais, 7 to 14 dollars, per trip. I don’t recall ever having my teeth pulled as a child, but I would imagine that it’s like paying for a taxi.
Big city Brazilian transportation is indeed different from what I’m used to. I have my likes and dislikes. I’m still adjusting to some things, but overall the process has not been stressful.
I still intend to finish what I started with this “Differences Series,” but of course I won’t be able to do it in a trilogy like I said earlier. Right now I'm just gonna see where the flow takes me. Thanks for reading, and stay tuned.
I don’t know if there are more or less serious traffic accidents in Brazil than in the States, but in my first weeks I would enter cars with the feeling that crashing was a serious possibility. Since then, I’ve become more comfortable with the fact that the lane lines on the road seem to be ignored, and that some drivers change lanes without looking or signaling. I think that they think that any potential collision mate is and ought to be on the lookout for such occasions. A few days ago a technologically distracted driver in front and to the right of us made a blind lane change, almost crashing into us. My host father hit the breaks and sighed, nonchalantly saying, “Falando por celular.” I would bed his heart rate went up at least a little (mine did), but on the outside he remained completely relaxed, almost uninterested. Close calls happen all the time, although it seems people never honk their horns.
“Driving” is included in the four big no-nos of Rotary Youth Exchange. I don’t intend to break that rule, but if I did I would first have to learn how to operate a stick shift because that’s what most people in Londrina own. In the beginning of my exchange I felt like a nuisance asking for rides, and at times I had to summon up courage in order to do so. It wasn’t because my host parents gave discouraging looks when I asked for rides, but rather, because they never said no. I never knew if it bothered them or not. I’d had a car to drive since I was sixteen, so the feeling of needing to be chauffeured around all the time was uncomfortable. That was part of the reason I didn’t join the weight room at the sports club; getting to and from AREL every day seemed like an onerous task. I don’t remember exactly when -- I think after being in Londrina for over a month -- I asked my host dad if there was a bus schedule that I could look at or if he could just show me how to use the bus. He said yes, but he never said when this was to happen.
After more than a month of not-happening, my desire to leave the house overcame my desire to not be a nuisance, so I joined the gym and started asking for rides to the sports club almost every day of the week. I don’t think going to the club was ever a problem, because my parents leave the house in the afternoon anyway. It was coming back that required a special trip. A few days of playing the taxi who works for free caused my host dad to tell me it was time to learn how to use the bus. (I like to think of it as my personal transformation from a stop sign to a speed bump.) My host parents were nice enough to buy me a bus card, but now I have to take the much slower bus home from the sports club. By car, the trip is about 15 minutes. By bus, it’s more than an hour. And I was just getting used to my new lack of independence.
One time I saw a lady fall off her motorcycle. My favorite primary source told me that there is about one motorcycle accident each day in Londrina. When I asked why, he said because the cyclists don’t know how to ride. Well then how did they get their motorcycles in the first place? The response: there is a deal where a person can buy, not lease, a motorcycle for about 100 reais per month for 20 months, the equivalent of about 1,200 dollars, and the sellers will sell to anybody. The deal is appealing because most people with a job can afford it, and it’s faster and more convenient than taking the bus. It’s unappealing because it’s dangerous. The motorcyclists that I’ve seen really are reckless, and lots of them are ill-trained and unlicensed. The driving age is eighteen for motorcycles and cars, but there is a sixteen year-old boy in my class who told me that he drives a motorcycle. My host dad told me that because of there are not enough police in Londrina, it’s difficult to catch people riding illegally -- in two senses of the word: weaving through traffic at high speeds and operating without documentation.
It's easy to argue that one shouldn't drive recklessly, but here's some evidence. On the 22nd of October, I spoke with a distressed Brazilian woman who experienced some culture shock after returning to Brazil from America and seeing a bloody, dead man on the streets of Londrina. He had been struck by a car.
I have a love-hate relationship with taxis. Here are the positives about calling a taxi: I get a discount because I’m an exchange student, and I’m fairly certain that, to begin with, taxis here are less expensive than in America; I don’t have to bother my host parents up at 4:00 am; and its safer than walking alone in the dark. I have an Australian friend who has been mugged three times here. Here is the negative: even though I get a discount, it’s still counterintuitive for me to dish out that kind of cash. After all, I am currently unemployed. Normally, I’ve had to pay between 10 and 20 reais, 7 to 14 dollars, per trip. I don’t recall ever having my teeth pulled as a child, but I would imagine that it’s like paying for a taxi.
Big city Brazilian transportation is indeed different from what I’m used to. I have my likes and dislikes. I’m still adjusting to some things, but overall the process has not been stressful.
I still intend to finish what I started with this “Differences Series,” but of course I won’t be able to do it in a trilogy like I said earlier. Right now I'm just gonna see where the flow takes me. Thanks for reading, and stay tuned.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Part Deux: School Activities
4. Starting in fifth grade, and extending until my graduation, I had the opportunity to be involved in a number of extracurriculars: band, choir, theatre, football, basketball, baseball, golf, speech team, and knowledge bowl. My school day would go from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m., would almost always include a period of music, and would be followed by an athletic practice of some sort; after practice I would eat supper at home and if I were in a musical, I would go to rehearsal. Friday nights almost always included a football or basketball game. My days were filled by a plethora of activities, and they all in some way were related to my school. Although my American schedule wasn’t necessarily typical, I know for certain that I would have had a much different experience had I been raised in Brazil. My exchange has given me a better appreciation for the school activities in which I used to participate.
As I’ve previously mentioned, the school day is short. So when class ends at 12:30 p.m., students have until 7:15 a.m. the next day to figure out what to do with their time. Some lift weights at athletic clubs. I have friends who take lessons in mixed martial arts, and tennis. And of course, everybody plays soccer, but I’ll get to that later. When it comes to music, the most popular choice is guitar. Other than (one) harmonica, drums, and bass; guitar is the only instrument played by people that I’ve met. I’ve heard some talented singers in the break time mini-shows, but I have yet to meet someone who has ever been in a choir.
The closest thing to organized school sports is the boys indoor intramural soccer championship, of which I am a participant. Two male teachers supervise the games: one is a referee and the other keeps the book. Teams are permanent, and were chosen by the players; a team usually consists of a group of six to eight friends. Each team plays one night per week. Most games are go on without spectators, save the on-deck teams and the occasional parent.
One evening, while watching a game, I asked one of my friends if any schools sponsor traveling soccer teams. I imagined that some of the best intramural teams at my school could come to America and compete for a high school state title. After an answer and some follow-up questions, I learned that Brazilian schools don't have the money to finance such things, and I also came to understand just how much of a commitment it takes to play ‘competitive’ soccer in Brazil.
Soccer balls enter the lives of Brazilian children at very young ages, but it’s at around age seven when boys start playing on hard courts at clubs. After a few years the good players start to separate themselves. Around the ages of ten or eleven, the decision has to be made. What will be your focus: soccer or school? Most choose school. But the ones willing to take the chance choose soccer, and they begin to play on grass fields. I would imagine that it’s a decision made by parents who are advised by people who know how the system works. I’ve heard from a number of sources that most professional soccer players came from poor families, and that soccer was their way to escape their unfortunate beginnings. It is this kind of commitment that explains the fact that Brazil has won the World Cup five times.
To my understanding, there is at least one boy in the league who is going to college in the U.S. next year on a soccer scholarship. The fact that he’s ‘only’ going to an American college and not pursuing competitive soccer in Brazil tells us that he’s really good, but he’s not good enough to go pro. However, the fact that he goes to a private school means that he is a lucky one. He didn’t have to sacrifice his education to pursue the game he loves, and an American education will look good on his resume later in life.
It's interesting to think about how many great soccer players there might be -- in Brazil and in other countries -- who have never had the opportunity to play in front of other people.
There is an obvious desire to be active, musically and athletically. I think clubs and private lessons do a good job in satisfying that craving, however, whenever I talk to my Brazilian friends about American high school, the first things that come to mind are the activities. A few nights ago I was working on a PowerPoint presentation about life in America that I will deliver in English class, and I noticed that most of the best memories I have about high school all involve football, basketball, band, and theater.
I am definitely a promoter of youth exchange, and I want people to come to America. I imagine that the people here who play guitar would also be singers and would play other instruments, if they had attended an American high school. I was excited to hear that my friend Barbara, who recently left for an exchange to Oregon is taking a drama class at her school.
I think that the competitive athletes would all find their places on the school teams. I was also happy to hear that a friend of mine who went to Texas for an exchange a few weeks after I arrived, is on his school’s football team. Although he did mixed martial arts in Brazil, when I talked to him in class about playing American football, he seemed a little hesitant to go out for his future school’s team. I like to think that his school has a welcoming and encouraging coach (similar to the one I had) who convinced him to give American football a try.
I also know that Barbara brought her tennis rackets to Oregon, and I would be surprised if she isn’t one of the best players on her school’s team.
Although slightly ashamed, I now feel comfortable admitting that when I was asked what I would say to convince a potential exchange student to come to America, I thought I was just giving the logical ‘good interview answer’ by talking about the sports teams and school activities. But now that I’m away from it all, I can see that those things meant much more to me than I had ever realized.
Thanks for reading.
As I’ve previously mentioned, the school day is short. So when class ends at 12:30 p.m., students have until 7:15 a.m. the next day to figure out what to do with their time. Some lift weights at athletic clubs. I have friends who take lessons in mixed martial arts, and tennis. And of course, everybody plays soccer, but I’ll get to that later. When it comes to music, the most popular choice is guitar. Other than (one) harmonica, drums, and bass; guitar is the only instrument played by people that I’ve met. I’ve heard some talented singers in the break time mini-shows, but I have yet to meet someone who has ever been in a choir.
The closest thing to organized school sports is the boys indoor intramural soccer championship, of which I am a participant. Two male teachers supervise the games: one is a referee and the other keeps the book. Teams are permanent, and were chosen by the players; a team usually consists of a group of six to eight friends. Each team plays one night per week. Most games are go on without spectators, save the on-deck teams and the occasional parent.
One evening, while watching a game, I asked one of my friends if any schools sponsor traveling soccer teams. I imagined that some of the best intramural teams at my school could come to America and compete for a high school state title. After an answer and some follow-up questions, I learned that Brazilian schools don't have the money to finance such things, and I also came to understand just how much of a commitment it takes to play ‘competitive’ soccer in Brazil.
Soccer balls enter the lives of Brazilian children at very young ages, but it’s at around age seven when boys start playing on hard courts at clubs. After a few years the good players start to separate themselves. Around the ages of ten or eleven, the decision has to be made. What will be your focus: soccer or school? Most choose school. But the ones willing to take the chance choose soccer, and they begin to play on grass fields. I would imagine that it’s a decision made by parents who are advised by people who know how the system works. I’ve heard from a number of sources that most professional soccer players came from poor families, and that soccer was their way to escape their unfortunate beginnings. It is this kind of commitment that explains the fact that Brazil has won the World Cup five times.
To my understanding, there is at least one boy in the league who is going to college in the U.S. next year on a soccer scholarship. The fact that he’s ‘only’ going to an American college and not pursuing competitive soccer in Brazil tells us that he’s really good, but he’s not good enough to go pro. However, the fact that he goes to a private school means that he is a lucky one. He didn’t have to sacrifice his education to pursue the game he loves, and an American education will look good on his resume later in life.
It's interesting to think about how many great soccer players there might be -- in Brazil and in other countries -- who have never had the opportunity to play in front of other people.
There is an obvious desire to be active, musically and athletically. I think clubs and private lessons do a good job in satisfying that craving, however, whenever I talk to my Brazilian friends about American high school, the first things that come to mind are the activities. A few nights ago I was working on a PowerPoint presentation about life in America that I will deliver in English class, and I noticed that most of the best memories I have about high school all involve football, basketball, band, and theater.
I am definitely a promoter of youth exchange, and I want people to come to America. I imagine that the people here who play guitar would also be singers and would play other instruments, if they had attended an American high school. I was excited to hear that my friend Barbara, who recently left for an exchange to Oregon is taking a drama class at her school.
I think that the competitive athletes would all find their places on the school teams. I was also happy to hear that a friend of mine who went to Texas for an exchange a few weeks after I arrived, is on his school’s football team. Although he did mixed martial arts in Brazil, when I talked to him in class about playing American football, he seemed a little hesitant to go out for his future school’s team. I like to think that his school has a welcoming and encouraging coach (similar to the one I had) who convinced him to give American football a try.
I also know that Barbara brought her tennis rackets to Oregon, and I would be surprised if she isn’t one of the best players on her school’s team.
Although slightly ashamed, I now feel comfortable admitting that when I was asked what I would say to convince a potential exchange student to come to America, I thought I was just giving the logical ‘good interview answer’ by talking about the sports teams and school activities. But now that I’m away from it all, I can see that those things meant much more to me than I had ever realized.
Thanks for reading.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
What's the Difference Between Me and You?
I apologize for the abrupt Font change, from the slightly curvy, yet still practical Georgia style, to the thin, straight, banal Times New Roman script. Before publishing my last post, I gave Times a try, just to see what it would look like. Once I decided that I didn’t like the change, this obstinate blog website would not allow me to return to Georgia, as if to calmly say “once you go Times, you never go back.” But I went back. And now that I’m in Georgia, I’ll tell you about the differences between Brazil and the United States. (Now that’s an ambiguous sentence.)
I’ll admit, when I arrived, I expected to see monkeys in the street. Nah, kidding. But in all seriousness, when I got here I felt like I missed out on my share of culture shock, if that makes any sense. Because I was well informed of Brazilian lifestyle, thanks to former exchange students from Brazil, and the Rotary program, things weren’t as foreign to me as I would have expected. I wasn’t ever knocked off of my feet in the way some ex-exchange students had described their arrivals to different countries. But I’ve made an effort to notice specific differences between things at home and things in the southern part of Brazil, and I’ve divided them into seven categories : Catholic influence, poverty, extra curricular activities, transportation, scenery, things that relate to mealtime, and climate. I’ll even throw some Justin Bieber in there, too. Don’t worry, though. I’m not going to make you listen to his music, I’m only going to talk about him.
1. I had never seen a crucifix in a bank until I came to Brazil. The fact that about 75 percent of Brazilians consider themselves to be Roman Catholic, not just Christian, explains why when I made a transaction at Citi Bank, I saw a crucifix as opposed to just a cross.
Most people have probably seen a picture of the Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio de Janeiro. Well it doesn’t only exist in Rio. There are mini replicas of it all over the place. My host parents and I took a road trip to visit relatives in a city called Dourados, seven hours northwest of Londrina, and it seemed like every town on the way sported a smaller version of the statue. Jesus is well-liked here.
In my Catholic school education, I learned that it was a mortal sin in violation of the fifth commandment to drink to the point of intoxication. I think Brazil prefers a loose interpretation of the Ten Commandments because even though everybody’s Catholic, they’re not afraid to inebriate.
2. I have heard Brazil being referred to as a “third world country” a few times since I’ve been here. This weekend, I got a small taste of what the phrase actually means. We passed through many small towns on the way to Dourados, and it was not uncommon to see adults and children sitting on curbs in dirty clothes, barefoot, wearing tired and gloomy expressions. Moreover, on the way home, I noticed a group of about forty one-room homes made with tarp roofs and walls. I’ve been told that the south of Brazil is an area that is less poverty-stricken compared to other places. In Rio de Janeiro, there is a tarp community of over 100,000 people.
The political leaders in Brazil are not helping the poverty situation. It’s election season, and my host dad is not a fan of the current president. During my first month, he told me about the political corruption in Brazil. At first I imagined that his statistics were greatly exaggerated when he said that half of the country‘s tax money goes into President Lula‘s pocket. But while we were in Dourados, his claim became more realistic. We watched a segment on the national news about the scandal that unfolded right in our relatives’ hometown. Twenty eight of Dourados’ municipal officials including the mayor, the vice-mayor, and the mayor’s wife were all convicted of embezzlement.
In the U.S., increased taxes are frustrating a lot of people. But I imagine that it would be even more frustrating to know that greedy politicians are literally “taking the money out of your pocket,” not spending it on roads or public schools that desperately need improvement. More frustrating than that, I think, would be to not any have money in the first place; to know that the people who were elected, probably having made claims to get the country out of poverty, are more interested in getting rich themselves than helping the poor. I imagine that embezzling politicians are not easing the discomfort one feels while sleeping under a tarp.
3. Justin Bieber is the cutest thing since sliced bread. Well, that’s what they tell me anyways. I don‘t actually know what he looks like. The only reason I can attach a name to the annoying falsetto singing “Baby Baby” (is it a falsetto or is he just twelve?) is because of the fact that Brazilian girls drool over him. I spent the better part of Monday thinking about the young star, and how the female brain works; fascinating, the latter. Someone should write a book about it.
I got to thinking about JB because of what happened Last Friday night, while I was out on the town with some exchange students. It was about 1 a.m. when we decided to go to a Karaoke bar. As we arrived, two girls outside of the bar saw, and reacted to, my friend Lars, a tall, slender, sixteen year-old German boy with nice hair.
“O JOO SHTEEN BEE BER!” screamed the more excited, and more intoxicated, of the two. (The article ‘o’ is a form of the word ‘the.’ In regular speech, the masculine ‘o’ and feminine ‘a’ are placed before names, corresponding with gender.)
It was his hair that sealed the deal. That long, soft, thin, tantalizing, light brown hair. How’s a girl supposed to resist?
We chatted outside the bar for a few minutes, and eventually went in and sat at table with the girls and their friends. The rest of the night, because of the language barrier, notes were passed back and forth between the boy wonder and the intriguing stranger. Yes, notes. Like in middle school. Get over it. English is Lars’ second language, and he speaks very little Portuguese, so we were glad to assist him with the note composition. Of course, we had to include our own creativity and interpretation to the messages.
The final outcome of Lars’ encounter remains to be seen. Phone numbers were exchanged, although Lars doesn’t have a cell phone (poor thing). You can use your imagination to decide how things played out because, if and when they ‘play out,’ I’m not going to post the results on this blog, as that would be uncouth. Perhaps I’ve already been uncouth.
This section is about Justin Bieber and a Karaoke bar, so it’s about time I talk about some music. That night, I was happy to have found “Strangers in the Night” by Frank Sinatra in the song book. Unfortunately, the girls were outside smoking while I sang, so the only props I got were from a friendly old man.
I now know why Justin Bieber trades musical integrity for a catchy, ring-tone-esque sound. He would rather appeal to young girls than to old men. That’s fair, I guess.
For now, the female brain remains un-figured-out.
Speaking of female brains: this just in! Literally 18 minutes ago, my mother told me via Facebook that my blog ‘needs dusting off.’ Because I never disobey my mother, I will take her hint and publish this blog entry in the form of a Trilogy. You just read part one.
Thanks for your time. Stay tuned.
I’ll admit, when I arrived, I expected to see monkeys in the street. Nah, kidding. But in all seriousness, when I got here I felt like I missed out on my share of culture shock, if that makes any sense. Because I was well informed of Brazilian lifestyle, thanks to former exchange students from Brazil, and the Rotary program, things weren’t as foreign to me as I would have expected. I wasn’t ever knocked off of my feet in the way some ex-exchange students had described their arrivals to different countries. But I’ve made an effort to notice specific differences between things at home and things in the southern part of Brazil, and I’ve divided them into seven categories : Catholic influence, poverty, extra curricular activities, transportation, scenery, things that relate to mealtime, and climate. I’ll even throw some Justin Bieber in there, too. Don’t worry, though. I’m not going to make you listen to his music, I’m only going to talk about him.
1. I had never seen a crucifix in a bank until I came to Brazil. The fact that about 75 percent of Brazilians consider themselves to be Roman Catholic, not just Christian, explains why when I made a transaction at Citi Bank, I saw a crucifix as opposed to just a cross.
Most people have probably seen a picture of the Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio de Janeiro. Well it doesn’t only exist in Rio. There are mini replicas of it all over the place. My host parents and I took a road trip to visit relatives in a city called Dourados, seven hours northwest of Londrina, and it seemed like every town on the way sported a smaller version of the statue. Jesus is well-liked here.
In my Catholic school education, I learned that it was a mortal sin in violation of the fifth commandment to drink to the point of intoxication. I think Brazil prefers a loose interpretation of the Ten Commandments because even though everybody’s Catholic, they’re not afraid to inebriate.
2. I have heard Brazil being referred to as a “third world country” a few times since I’ve been here. This weekend, I got a small taste of what the phrase actually means. We passed through many small towns on the way to Dourados, and it was not uncommon to see adults and children sitting on curbs in dirty clothes, barefoot, wearing tired and gloomy expressions. Moreover, on the way home, I noticed a group of about forty one-room homes made with tarp roofs and walls. I’ve been told that the south of Brazil is an area that is less poverty-stricken compared to other places. In Rio de Janeiro, there is a tarp community of over 100,000 people.
The political leaders in Brazil are not helping the poverty situation. It’s election season, and my host dad is not a fan of the current president. During my first month, he told me about the political corruption in Brazil. At first I imagined that his statistics were greatly exaggerated when he said that half of the country‘s tax money goes into President Lula‘s pocket. But while we were in Dourados, his claim became more realistic. We watched a segment on the national news about the scandal that unfolded right in our relatives’ hometown. Twenty eight of Dourados’ municipal officials including the mayor, the vice-mayor, and the mayor’s wife were all convicted of embezzlement.
In the U.S., increased taxes are frustrating a lot of people. But I imagine that it would be even more frustrating to know that greedy politicians are literally “taking the money out of your pocket,” not spending it on roads or public schools that desperately need improvement. More frustrating than that, I think, would be to not any have money in the first place; to know that the people who were elected, probably having made claims to get the country out of poverty, are more interested in getting rich themselves than helping the poor. I imagine that embezzling politicians are not easing the discomfort one feels while sleeping under a tarp.
3. Justin Bieber is the cutest thing since sliced bread. Well, that’s what they tell me anyways. I don‘t actually know what he looks like. The only reason I can attach a name to the annoying falsetto singing “Baby Baby” (is it a falsetto or is he just twelve?) is because of the fact that Brazilian girls drool over him. I spent the better part of Monday thinking about the young star, and how the female brain works; fascinating, the latter. Someone should write a book about it.
I got to thinking about JB because of what happened Last Friday night, while I was out on the town with some exchange students. It was about 1 a.m. when we decided to go to a Karaoke bar. As we arrived, two girls outside of the bar saw, and reacted to, my friend Lars, a tall, slender, sixteen year-old German boy with nice hair.
“O JOO SHTEEN BEE BER!” screamed the more excited, and more intoxicated, of the two. (The article ‘o’ is a form of the word ‘the.’ In regular speech, the masculine ‘o’ and feminine ‘a’ are placed before names, corresponding with gender.)
It was his hair that sealed the deal. That long, soft, thin, tantalizing, light brown hair. How’s a girl supposed to resist?
We chatted outside the bar for a few minutes, and eventually went in and sat at table with the girls and their friends. The rest of the night, because of the language barrier, notes were passed back and forth between the boy wonder and the intriguing stranger. Yes, notes. Like in middle school. Get over it. English is Lars’ second language, and he speaks very little Portuguese, so we were glad to assist him with the note composition. Of course, we had to include our own creativity and interpretation to the messages.
The final outcome of Lars’ encounter remains to be seen. Phone numbers were exchanged, although Lars doesn’t have a cell phone (poor thing). You can use your imagination to decide how things played out because, if and when they ‘play out,’ I’m not going to post the results on this blog, as that would be uncouth. Perhaps I’ve already been uncouth.
This section is about Justin Bieber and a Karaoke bar, so it’s about time I talk about some music. That night, I was happy to have found “Strangers in the Night” by Frank Sinatra in the song book. Unfortunately, the girls were outside smoking while I sang, so the only props I got were from a friendly old man.
I now know why Justin Bieber trades musical integrity for a catchy, ring-tone-esque sound. He would rather appeal to young girls than to old men. That’s fair, I guess.
For now, the female brain remains un-figured-out.
Speaking of female brains: this just in! Literally 18 minutes ago, my mother told me via Facebook that my blog ‘needs dusting off.’ Because I never disobey my mother, I will take her hint and publish this blog entry in the form of a Trilogy. You just read part one.
Thanks for your time. Stay tuned.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Recent Happenings
One, two, go!
1. Last weekend I went to my first Rotary Inbound Orientation. I met 31 other exchange students from the following countries: Denmark, Germany, Japan, Thailand, Taiwan, the U.S., Mexico, Colombia, and Argentina. We spent Friday afternoon through Sunday morning in an exquisitely scenic farm/hotel. I felt like I was at summer camp. (I've never actually been to summer camp, but I imagine it to be just like my Rotary Orientation.) We swam, went horseback riding, played soccer, learned some funky dance moves, ate food, and spent a lot of down time getting to know each other. The fact that we all share similar circumstances makes us exchange students become fast friends. I dig that.
2. I had my first real tennis lesson on Wednesday, but I'm not going to tell you about that. I'm going to tell you about the event preceding it. Long story short, my neighbor's mother offered to pay for my membership to the club in exchange for English lessons. My heart skipped a beat when I heard the offer! Of course I accepted her proposal, but I felt kind of guilty taking money from a generous woman, in exchange for work that I knew I would enjoy. But after thinking about it for awhile, I discovered a new perspective. After recalling a day in the first week of my exchange when she told me how badly she wanted to learn English, I began to realize how lucky I was to have been born in an English-speaking country, and that I might as well share my good fortune with anyone who shows interest. The biggest reason why I know that I'm going to enjoy this experience, is that she is truly eager to learn.
Everybody in Brazil wants to learn English. I don't know exactly why, but I have some theories. My host dad told me that whenever an American businessperson comes to Brazil, the negotiations are done in English, not Portuguese. The ability to speak English gives people a leg up in workplace. Even our Rotary Orientation which featured students from nine different countries was conducted in English. However, I also think there is something about the language that just captures people's interest. Barbara's mom doesn't need English for any vocation, she simply wants to learn for her own enjoyment -- which, in my opinion, is an excellent reason.
I like our agreement because it’s mutually altruistic. ‘I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine.’ It’s a perfect system. My neighbor isn’t asking me to be forever indebted to her. Although I absolutely consider what she’s doing to be a favor, (tennis lessons are not cheap), I still maintain the fact that she presented to me the opportunity to ‘earn my keep.’ Everybody likes to feel useful, and I’m no different.
Before I came to Brazil, I entertained the notion that later in my life I might want to teach English as a second language, to young children in unfortunate areas. I have friends and family who have taught in other countries, and it seems like the kind of job that would both open doors for other people and give me a lot of personal satisfaction. Teaching my neighbor will give me incredibly useful 'hands on' experience. If my first pupil ends up succeeding with the language, I will have the confidence to pursue this kind of endeavor in the future.
It was a good week.
If anyone knows anything about teaching English as a second language, please email me at frankiej84@hotmail.com. I have ideas about which direction I will take, but I am very, very open to suggestions. Thank you very much for reading.
1. Last weekend I went to my first Rotary Inbound Orientation. I met 31 other exchange students from the following countries: Denmark, Germany, Japan, Thailand, Taiwan, the U.S., Mexico, Colombia, and Argentina. We spent Friday afternoon through Sunday morning in an exquisitely scenic farm/hotel. I felt like I was at summer camp. (I've never actually been to summer camp, but I imagine it to be just like my Rotary Orientation.) We swam, went horseback riding, played soccer, learned some funky dance moves, ate food, and spent a lot of down time getting to know each other. The fact that we all share similar circumstances makes us exchange students become fast friends. I dig that.
2. I had my first real tennis lesson on Wednesday, but I'm not going to tell you about that. I'm going to tell you about the event preceding it. Long story short, my neighbor's mother offered to pay for my membership to the club in exchange for English lessons. My heart skipped a beat when I heard the offer! Of course I accepted her proposal, but I felt kind of guilty taking money from a generous woman, in exchange for work that I knew I would enjoy. But after thinking about it for awhile, I discovered a new perspective. After recalling a day in the first week of my exchange when she told me how badly she wanted to learn English, I began to realize how lucky I was to have been born in an English-speaking country, and that I might as well share my good fortune with anyone who shows interest. The biggest reason why I know that I'm going to enjoy this experience, is that she is truly eager to learn.
Everybody in Brazil wants to learn English. I don't know exactly why, but I have some theories. My host dad told me that whenever an American businessperson comes to Brazil, the negotiations are done in English, not Portuguese. The ability to speak English gives people a leg up in workplace. Even our Rotary Orientation which featured students from nine different countries was conducted in English. However, I also think there is something about the language that just captures people's interest. Barbara's mom doesn't need English for any vocation, she simply wants to learn for her own enjoyment -- which, in my opinion, is an excellent reason.
I like our agreement because it’s mutually altruistic. ‘I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine.’ It’s a perfect system. My neighbor isn’t asking me to be forever indebted to her. Although I absolutely consider what she’s doing to be a favor, (tennis lessons are not cheap), I still maintain the fact that she presented to me the opportunity to ‘earn my keep.’ Everybody likes to feel useful, and I’m no different.
Before I came to Brazil, I entertained the notion that later in my life I might want to teach English as a second language, to young children in unfortunate areas. I have friends and family who have taught in other countries, and it seems like the kind of job that would both open doors for other people and give me a lot of personal satisfaction. Teaching my neighbor will give me incredibly useful 'hands on' experience. If my first pupil ends up succeeding with the language, I will have the confidence to pursue this kind of endeavor in the future.
It was a good week.
If anyone knows anything about teaching English as a second language, please email me at frankiej84@hotmail.com. I have ideas about which direction I will take, but I am very, very open to suggestions. Thank you very much for reading.
Monday, August 9, 2010
The One That Got Away
If you were paying attention to structure, you might have noticed that I left the third prong of my most recent post, Catching Up: Family, Food, School, and Sports. Obviously I meant to include a description of my school, but unfortunately what I had written did not save. I was in a hurry when I rewrote the ending of the post and clicked the "Publish Post" button, so I did not notice the omission. Here is the belated, extended version of prong number three: School.
School in Brazil is different. The schedule, the classes, the building, and the people are all unlike anything I'm used to.
I would estimate there to be approximately 600 students in my school. There are three grades, primera, segunda, and tercera: sophomores, juniors, and seniors. Students are assigned a single classroom where they spend the whole school day, 7:15 a.m. to 12:30 p.m., save biweekly lab periods and twice daily 15 minute breaks. I think each grade has three classrooms. The teachers rotate from class to class, and every student in each homeroom takes the same lessons: physics, chemistry, biology, math, Portuguese, English, history, geography, literature, and philosophy. English is the only class where I understand what is going on, but in the other classes I feel that I'm picking up words and phrases and improving my Portuguese ear.
My first day of school was the first day of second semester, and I was overwhelmed by how rambunctious the students were. Imagine 60 sixteen year olds being told to sit still on the first day of school after a month-long break.................................. Yes. That's exactly what it's like. With classes being in the form of lecture, even though the teachers were very enthusiastic about their subjects, they still struggled for respect. They practically had to implore the class to pay attention. During the first week, students felt completely comfortable talking loudly, listening to their headphones, texting, and throwing balls of paper at one another. On the first day I remember thinking that even Albus Dumbledore would have his hands full trying to keep these kids in line. But in the two weeks that have passed, a girl has been asked to leave the class for talking, and a boy's iPod has been taken away from him. I think this discipline has helped calm things down because now it feels like at least some people are learning.
Except in English class. Last week, we had a 'discussion' about AIDS and the legalization of marijuana, in English. As interesting as those subjects would appear to be from the perspective of high school students, the class still felt no reason to appease the desperate teacher's wishes. No one really wanted to talk to her in English. But as an analytical, opinionated, English-speaker, I was happy to share my thoughts with her. She told me that I was her favorite student, then asked me if her English was 'good enough.' I told her that it was not my place to be the judge of that.
It's difficult for me to describe the uniquely structured building in which I attend class each day. The front of the school has doors, but the back does not. There are three floors shaped like horseshoes, and the classrooms are on the outer edge of the semi-oval. In the middle of the bottom floor is the foyer, a slowly escalating ascent towards the 'back' of the school. If you walk far enough, you will pass through an opening forty yards wide and end up outside, near a playground and a fenced gym area. Next to 'outside' are two staircases that take you to the second and third floors. In the upper floors, there is nothing in the middle of the 'horseshoe.' There is a ledge that allows any viewer to look across to the opposite side, or down to the bottom foyer area. If I ever figure out how to post pictures on this blog, I will show you a better description of the school.
During break time of the second week, an acoustic guitarist/singer performed, as did a student rock band, in the foyer. They mostly played American music, songs like Seven Nation Army, Are You Gonna Be My Girl, Your Body is a Wonderland, and others that I don't remember. Some musician friends, in need of a singer, asked me if I sung or played any instruments. I told them I was still a novice guitar player, but I could sing. So in the near future I might be performing with a band during break.
I really like going to school each day, not because the classes thrill me, but because I'm meeting loads of new people (as well as kissing lots of girls on their cheeks, standard form for introducing oneself). It's not difficult to be an exchange student here because everyone is so welcoming. They are very patient with me when I speak Portuguese, and they talk slowly when I ask them to, so it's easy to make friends.
To me, learning a second language and meeting new people are both exciting things. And unlike many other things that are exciting at first, I highly doubt that this will ever get boring.
Thanks for reading, and as always, there will be more to come.
School in Brazil is different. The schedule, the classes, the building, and the people are all unlike anything I'm used to.
I would estimate there to be approximately 600 students in my school. There are three grades, primera, segunda, and tercera: sophomores, juniors, and seniors. Students are assigned a single classroom where they spend the whole school day, 7:15 a.m. to 12:30 p.m., save biweekly lab periods and twice daily 15 minute breaks. I think each grade has three classrooms. The teachers rotate from class to class, and every student in each homeroom takes the same lessons: physics, chemistry, biology, math, Portuguese, English, history, geography, literature, and philosophy. English is the only class where I understand what is going on, but in the other classes I feel that I'm picking up words and phrases and improving my Portuguese ear.
My first day of school was the first day of second semester, and I was overwhelmed by how rambunctious the students were. Imagine 60 sixteen year olds being told to sit still on the first day of school after a month-long break.................................. Yes. That's exactly what it's like. With classes being in the form of lecture, even though the teachers were very enthusiastic about their subjects, they still struggled for respect. They practically had to implore the class to pay attention. During the first week, students felt completely comfortable talking loudly, listening to their headphones, texting, and throwing balls of paper at one another. On the first day I remember thinking that even Albus Dumbledore would have his hands full trying to keep these kids in line. But in the two weeks that have passed, a girl has been asked to leave the class for talking, and a boy's iPod has been taken away from him. I think this discipline has helped calm things down because now it feels like at least some people are learning.
Except in English class. Last week, we had a 'discussion' about AIDS and the legalization of marijuana, in English. As interesting as those subjects would appear to be from the perspective of high school students, the class still felt no reason to appease the desperate teacher's wishes. No one really wanted to talk to her in English. But as an analytical, opinionated, English-speaker, I was happy to share my thoughts with her. She told me that I was her favorite student, then asked me if her English was 'good enough.' I told her that it was not my place to be the judge of that.
It's difficult for me to describe the uniquely structured building in which I attend class each day. The front of the school has doors, but the back does not. There are three floors shaped like horseshoes, and the classrooms are on the outer edge of the semi-oval. In the middle of the bottom floor is the foyer, a slowly escalating ascent towards the 'back' of the school. If you walk far enough, you will pass through an opening forty yards wide and end up outside, near a playground and a fenced gym area. Next to 'outside' are two staircases that take you to the second and third floors. In the upper floors, there is nothing in the middle of the 'horseshoe.' There is a ledge that allows any viewer to look across to the opposite side, or down to the bottom foyer area. If I ever figure out how to post pictures on this blog, I will show you a better description of the school.
During break time of the second week, an acoustic guitarist/singer performed, as did a student rock band, in the foyer. They mostly played American music, songs like Seven Nation Army, Are You Gonna Be My Girl, Your Body is a Wonderland, and others that I don't remember. Some musician friends, in need of a singer, asked me if I sung or played any instruments. I told them I was still a novice guitar player, but I could sing. So in the near future I might be performing with a band during break.
I really like going to school each day, not because the classes thrill me, but because I'm meeting loads of new people (as well as kissing lots of girls on their cheeks, standard form for introducing oneself). It's not difficult to be an exchange student here because everyone is so welcoming. They are very patient with me when I speak Portuguese, and they talk slowly when I ask them to, so it's easy to make friends.
To me, learning a second language and meeting new people are both exciting things. And unlike many other things that are exciting at first, I highly doubt that this will ever get boring.
Thanks for reading, and as always, there will be more to come.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Catching Up: Family, Food, School, and Sports
Thus far my stay in Brazil has been excellent. I live with a great family, love the food, look forward to school each morning, and have found a new athletic hobby. No, it's not water polo.
As I mentioned earlier, my family consists of an electrical engineer father, a stay at home mom, a 18 year old brother, and a 16 year old sister. My brother Pedro and I have much in common. We both love music. On my second night in Londrina, Pedro showed me some blues technique on the acoustic guitar and I found out that he also plays blues harmonica. When I heard him play the harmonica, I thought of playing 'Groove Merchant' with the CHS Jazz band, and I instantly regretted not bringing my alto saxophone. I don't think I know anyone who can successfully read and play music on the harmonica, so my ears were dazzled when they discovered that Pedro was an accomplished harmonicist.
I have previously mentioned that Pedro is a former exchange student. When he was 16, he went to Denmark. He speaks four languages: Portuguese, English, Danish, and Spanish. I believe he also understands Norwegian and Swedish. With all of these common interests, I was not surprised to find out that Pedro and I have similar opinions about religion.
My host sister, Maria Luisa (i.e. Malu) is polishing her French before her exchange to Belgium. Awhile back, her parents bought her a guitar, but she never learned how to play. This is very convenient for me because she is letting me borrow her guitar for the rest of my exchange. I like Malu. She's very nice. Even though she and I don't share the same common interests that Pedro and I do, we get along very well during the time we spend together before, during, and after school.
My host mother, Marizelia, is adorable. She is very cheerful and cooks wonderful Brazilian food. She doesn't speak any English, and I really like the fact that during each meal, she addresses me and slowly asks me questions or explains things to me in Portuguese. That is the best way for me to learn the language.
My host father, Nelson, is an electrical engineer. He is very friendly to me and likes to keep me in the loop. I appreciate that. On Monday he gave me a tour of the city. But during the car ride I decided that I think he also likes to practice his second language on me. He speaks English to me in situations where it's not always necessary. Sometimes he points to things and calls them their English name. I proceed to repeat what he said with the intent to memorize the name of the object at which he pointed, in Portuguese. He then repeats what he originally said, again in English, and at that point I realize that he was speaking English the whole time. I only thought it was Portuguese because of his accent. So at this point, he has successfully taught me what something is called in English. In a situation like that, my biological father would probably say, "Good to know, Jake."
I realize that it would be a good idea for me to simply ask Nelson to speak to me in English less often and that blogging about it won't help me at all, but blogging is so much fun! And actually, during lively mealtime discussions his translations are helpful. So for the record, I'm not complaining; I'm observing.
Speaking of food...
To those of you who were worried that I might have trouble adjusting to Brazilian cuisine and starve to death: have no fear. I think I'll be okay. Authentic Brazilian food is amazing, and Marizelia is an artist in the kitchen. In addition to eating great food, the eating schedule is also worth mentioning. They've got it down to a science!
Brazilian breakfasts are light. I eat an apple, a banana, and some buttered bread each morning. Lunch, the main meal, is when things get serious. It goes down at 12:45, right after school, and usually it consists of a meat dish, chicken or steak, rice and beans, salad, cooked vegetables: corn, tomatoes, onions, green and red peppers, and sometimes potatoes. There is always enough food for me to go back for seconds, and thirds (if I have room). I mustn't forget that the food is always fresh. I think the corn I ate for lunch the other day was better than any corn I've ever had in Minnesota. The salad is very simple: a type of lettuce leaf that I don't know the name of, tomatoes, and a little oil and vinegar. But don't forget, the food is fresh, never frozen! It's great. I'll post a picture of it sometime.
Supper is a smaller meal, and it consists of tasty bread, cheese, pasta, and sometimes meat. A common dish is called pao de quejo, any kind of baked or fried bread, stuffed with cheese. One of my favorites is called pastel, a deep fried pasta stuffed with cheese or beef. Evening food reminds me of being at the county fair. The fried bread is that good.
I've been doing my best to keep busy after school. I have spent two afternoons at the local athletic club with a neighbor/classmate/future exchange student, her brother, and her brother's friend. In that group, I am the only person who is not an experienced tennis player. The other three have taken lessons for multiple years, and before this week, I had barely ever even picked up a racket. Yesterday at the club, I was told by the instructor to hit the ball against the wall to myself to get the hang of things, while the other three had a proper lesson. But afterward, Barbara and Leandros gave me an informal tennis crash course. We practiced the forehand, backhand, volley, and service.
Although at times I am a little bored, It would be selfish of me to expect anything more from Brazil. I like the people, I'm making progress with the language, I feel that the Rotary Program helped me become prepared to be here, and now it's time to go out there and live. Thanks for reading, and feel free to email me with any questions.
Tchau
As I mentioned earlier, my family consists of an electrical engineer father, a stay at home mom, a 18 year old brother, and a 16 year old sister. My brother Pedro and I have much in common. We both love music. On my second night in Londrina, Pedro showed me some blues technique on the acoustic guitar and I found out that he also plays blues harmonica. When I heard him play the harmonica, I thought of playing 'Groove Merchant' with the CHS Jazz band, and I instantly regretted not bringing my alto saxophone. I don't think I know anyone who can successfully read and play music on the harmonica, so my ears were dazzled when they discovered that Pedro was an accomplished harmonicist.
I have previously mentioned that Pedro is a former exchange student. When he was 16, he went to Denmark. He speaks four languages: Portuguese, English, Danish, and Spanish. I believe he also understands Norwegian and Swedish. With all of these common interests, I was not surprised to find out that Pedro and I have similar opinions about religion.
My host sister, Maria Luisa (i.e. Malu) is polishing her French before her exchange to Belgium. Awhile back, her parents bought her a guitar, but she never learned how to play. This is very convenient for me because she is letting me borrow her guitar for the rest of my exchange. I like Malu. She's very nice. Even though she and I don't share the same common interests that Pedro and I do, we get along very well during the time we spend together before, during, and after school.
My host mother, Marizelia, is adorable. She is very cheerful and cooks wonderful Brazilian food. She doesn't speak any English, and I really like the fact that during each meal, she addresses me and slowly asks me questions or explains things to me in Portuguese. That is the best way for me to learn the language.
My host father, Nelson, is an electrical engineer. He is very friendly to me and likes to keep me in the loop. I appreciate that. On Monday he gave me a tour of the city. But during the car ride I decided that I think he also likes to practice his second language on me. He speaks English to me in situations where it's not always necessary. Sometimes he points to things and calls them their English name. I proceed to repeat what he said with the intent to memorize the name of the object at which he pointed, in Portuguese. He then repeats what he originally said, again in English, and at that point I realize that he was speaking English the whole time. I only thought it was Portuguese because of his accent. So at this point, he has successfully taught me what something is called in English. In a situation like that, my biological father would probably say, "Good to know, Jake."
I realize that it would be a good idea for me to simply ask Nelson to speak to me in English less often and that blogging about it won't help me at all, but blogging is so much fun! And actually, during lively mealtime discussions his translations are helpful. So for the record, I'm not complaining; I'm observing.
Speaking of food...
To those of you who were worried that I might have trouble adjusting to Brazilian cuisine and starve to death: have no fear. I think I'll be okay. Authentic Brazilian food is amazing, and Marizelia is an artist in the kitchen. In addition to eating great food, the eating schedule is also worth mentioning. They've got it down to a science!
Brazilian breakfasts are light. I eat an apple, a banana, and some buttered bread each morning. Lunch, the main meal, is when things get serious. It goes down at 12:45, right after school, and usually it consists of a meat dish, chicken or steak, rice and beans, salad, cooked vegetables: corn, tomatoes, onions, green and red peppers, and sometimes potatoes. There is always enough food for me to go back for seconds, and thirds (if I have room). I mustn't forget that the food is always fresh. I think the corn I ate for lunch the other day was better than any corn I've ever had in Minnesota. The salad is very simple: a type of lettuce leaf that I don't know the name of, tomatoes, and a little oil and vinegar. But don't forget, the food is fresh, never frozen! It's great. I'll post a picture of it sometime.
Supper is a smaller meal, and it consists of tasty bread, cheese, pasta, and sometimes meat. A common dish is called pao de quejo, any kind of baked or fried bread, stuffed with cheese. One of my favorites is called pastel, a deep fried pasta stuffed with cheese or beef. Evening food reminds me of being at the county fair. The fried bread is that good.
I've been doing my best to keep busy after school. I have spent two afternoons at the local athletic club with a neighbor/classmate/future exchange student, her brother, and her brother's friend. In that group, I am the only person who is not an experienced tennis player. The other three have taken lessons for multiple years, and before this week, I had barely ever even picked up a racket. Yesterday at the club, I was told by the instructor to hit the ball against the wall to myself to get the hang of things, while the other three had a proper lesson. But afterward, Barbara and Leandros gave me an informal tennis crash course. We practiced the forehand, backhand, volley, and service.
Although at times I am a little bored, It would be selfish of me to expect anything more from Brazil. I like the people, I'm making progress with the language, I feel that the Rotary Program helped me become prepared to be here, and now it's time to go out there and live. Thanks for reading, and feel free to email me with any questions.
Tchau
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Flight, Family, and Fun
I was more than shocked to find out that my host dad was giving me a golden cufflink that once belonged to his father.
"Muito obrigado!" (Thank you very much!)
Why is he giving this to me? This makes absolutely no sense. I'm not his actual son. Why not give it to Pedro?
Silly foreigner, he's not giving it to you; he's showing it to you! After a day and a half with my new family, I finally had a really awkward miscommunication.
"Oh, yeah. That's more logical than my first interpretation," I mumbled in English. I doubt he heard me, but he probably understood that I felt stupid.
It does not seem like very much time has elapsed since I last saw my friends. The difficult goodbyes of Wednesday are over. But since my going-away-party, much has happened. I flew to Brazil, got lost, got found, and spent some quality time with my host family.
I woke up Thursday morning with a fever. Eventually, I took some ibuprofin and the fever subsided. That night my immediate family gathered in Chaska with my sister Sarah and my brother-in-law Mark (who is now on Facebook) for a last family meal before I departed.
Friday morning I stumbled off Sarah and Mark's couch with a fever, a sore back, and a sore throat. Luckily, I surround myself with the right people. My sister is a P.A. so she hooked me up. My mom drove me to the OBGYN Clinic (Spanish for a medical place that only serves women) and Sarah gave me a quick strep throat test. It came back positive, which really is negative, and she prescribed me some Penicillin. We picked it up, filled out a survey, got a free Powerade, and went to the airport. Efficiency!
I flew to Atlanta and then to Brasilia with three girls who looked after me. Once I was on my own, things escalated. I said goodbye in Brasilia, and my next stop was Sau Paulo. I made it there, like a champ, and boarded my next flight to Londrina. Or so I thought. Apparently we were making a pit stop in a city 600 kilometers from my destination. The ticket said we were dropping people off, but honestly, who reads tickets? To exascerbate the minor problem, I was sleeping during the flight and felt groggy during the landing announcements, and I spectacularly missed the message. I got off the plane, went to get luggage with another Rotary exchange student from Vermont, and eventually concluded that my luggage wasn't there. Go figure.
"Your luggage is in Londrina, where you're supposed to be," said the friendly Brazilian airport worker.
"Uff da. I thought this was Londrina."
After saying goodbye to Emma, I followed the Brazilian to a port where he told another worker my situation. The worker got me a new flight for 17:00, five hours later. For some reason when he told me the time of my next flight, I thought he said 'in eleven hours' which was totally not cool. Luckily, it was really only five hours.
My next task was to call my host family and inform them that there was a change of plans. I asked another worker for help; he figured out the pay phone for me (I didn't have Brazilian change) and he dialed the number I gave to him. My host sister, Maria Luisa answered and said some gibberish in Portuguese that I couldn't understand. I gave the phone to the airport worker, he explained everything to her, and the matter was settled.
After a five hour wait and a 45 minute flight, my plane landed, and I watched the sun set behind the skyline of Londrina. It was beautiful. My host family met me at the airport, and it was time to go home.
Finalmente!
As you can see, flights don't always go as planned, and language barriers are funny.
Thanks for reading. I still have much more to tell, but not right now. I have school in the morning.
Beijos
"Muito obrigado!" (Thank you very much!)
Why is he giving this to me? This makes absolutely no sense. I'm not his actual son. Why not give it to Pedro?
Silly foreigner, he's not giving it to you; he's showing it to you! After a day and a half with my new family, I finally had a really awkward miscommunication.
"Oh, yeah. That's more logical than my first interpretation," I mumbled in English. I doubt he heard me, but he probably understood that I felt stupid.
It does not seem like very much time has elapsed since I last saw my friends. The difficult goodbyes of Wednesday are over. But since my going-away-party, much has happened. I flew to Brazil, got lost, got found, and spent some quality time with my host family.
I woke up Thursday morning with a fever. Eventually, I took some ibuprofin and the fever subsided. That night my immediate family gathered in Chaska with my sister Sarah and my brother-in-law Mark (who is now on Facebook) for a last family meal before I departed.
Friday morning I stumbled off Sarah and Mark's couch with a fever, a sore back, and a sore throat. Luckily, I surround myself with the right people. My sister is a P.A. so she hooked me up. My mom drove me to the OBGYN Clinic (Spanish for a medical place that only serves women) and Sarah gave me a quick strep throat test. It came back positive, which really is negative, and she prescribed me some Penicillin. We picked it up, filled out a survey, got a free Powerade, and went to the airport. Efficiency!
I flew to Atlanta and then to Brasilia with three girls who looked after me. Once I was on my own, things escalated. I said goodbye in Brasilia, and my next stop was Sau Paulo. I made it there, like a champ, and boarded my next flight to Londrina. Or so I thought. Apparently we were making a pit stop in a city 600 kilometers from my destination. The ticket said we were dropping people off, but honestly, who reads tickets? To exascerbate the minor problem, I was sleeping during the flight and felt groggy during the landing announcements, and I spectacularly missed the message. I got off the plane, went to get luggage with another Rotary exchange student from Vermont, and eventually concluded that my luggage wasn't there. Go figure.
"Your luggage is in Londrina, where you're supposed to be," said the friendly Brazilian airport worker.
"Uff da. I thought this was Londrina."
After saying goodbye to Emma, I followed the Brazilian to a port where he told another worker my situation. The worker got me a new flight for 17:00, five hours later. For some reason when he told me the time of my next flight, I thought he said 'in eleven hours' which was totally not cool. Luckily, it was really only five hours.
My next task was to call my host family and inform them that there was a change of plans. I asked another worker for help; he figured out the pay phone for me (I didn't have Brazilian change) and he dialed the number I gave to him. My host sister, Maria Luisa answered and said some gibberish in Portuguese that I couldn't understand. I gave the phone to the airport worker, he explained everything to her, and the matter was settled.
After a five hour wait and a 45 minute flight, my plane landed, and I watched the sun set behind the skyline of Londrina. It was beautiful. My host family met me at the airport, and it was time to go home.
Finalmente!
As you can see, flights don't always go as planned, and language barriers are funny.
Thanks for reading. I still have much more to tell, but not right now. I have school in the morning.
Beijos
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Six Days Away
Friday, July 30, 2010
Wake up. Eat. Hug Mom. Say goodbye. Board plane. Find seat. Sit down. Fly to Atlanta, then Brasilia, then Sau Paulo, then Londrina. Get out of plane. Look for a sign that probably says, "Francis Johnson." Meet host family. Greet host family. Find Luggage. Get in car (or perhaps public transport). Ride through Londrina. Get out at new home. Tour new home. Make bed. Take picture of bed. Send picture to Mom. Sleep.
That's how I envision my last day in America and my first day in Brazil.
Thank you for reading. This is the first of hopefully many entries. I think an appropriate way to start is to re-answer some of the questions I have been asked the last few months. After that, once I'm actually in Brazil, I'll tell you what I'm doing.
1. Yes. I am excited.
2. I'm doing an exchange mostly because of the influence of some of my friends: Isaac Rysdahl, Jon Braegelmann, Henry Kunerth, Tessa Makepeace, and Marie Torp. Perhaps you already know what they did, but I'll just clarify. Isaac volunteered in Guatemala with his brother David, and he is currently building a school in Peru with his brother Gabe; Jon went on an exchange to India; Henry went to Norway; Tessa went to Germany; and Marie is from Norway but went to Cathedral in New Ulm in 09-10. These friends of mine planted the idea into my head, and the Rotary program made it a reality.
3. Brazil was my first choice -- technically. Originally I wanted to go to Spain for two reasons: (1) they speak Spanish in Spain, and (2) Spain, being in Europe, is in close proximity with the rest of Europe. Those are legitimate reasons, right? However, when I went to the Rotary Country Fair, an event where inbound exchange students 'sell' their countries to potential outbound exchange students, I found out that I was too old to go to Spain or any other Spanish speaking country. Fortunately, I met a crew of Brazilian Rotary kids who thoroughly convinced me that I would love their country. I haven't looked back since.
4. I took three and a half years of Spanish, and I have spent the last seven months slowly converting my Spanish to Portuguese. I found out Brazil was my host country right before New Years. Portuguese and Spanish are Romance Languages. Portuguese shares similar words and structure with Spanish and has sort of a French pronunciation. I have used books, an online language software called Byki (which I strongly recommend to anyone who wants to learn the basics of a language without paying a cent), DVDs with Portuguese subtitles, and to save the best for last, some of the Brazilian exchange students: Marcos, Ricardo, Thaisa, and Ana Clara. It is thanks to them that I know some hip, youthful vernacular. However, it's also thanks to them that when people ask me to say something in Portuguese, I have to filter out language I wouldn't use in front of my mother.
5. The city I'll be living in is in the South. It's called Londrina, in the state of Paranรก. It's got a population of about 500,000, and it's absolutely beautiful. Check out some pictures at http://www.google.com/images?hl=en&biw=1366&bih=575&gbv=2&tbs=isch%3A1&sa=1&q=londrina&aq=f&aqi=&aql=&oq=&gs_rfai=
6. I'll be attending high school for approximately five hours each day, and I am required to "make an earnest effort to succeed." :) Yes, that's a smiley face.
7. My first home is a family of four: Nelson (dad), Marizelia (mom), Pedro (brother, 18), and Maria Luisa (sister, 16). Maria Luisa is going on an exchange in Belgium. She leaves during the second week of August. Pedro did an exchange in Denmark last year. He will be living at home and going to college when I'm there. I've been teaching myself guitar for about a year now, and I was very pleased to find out that Pedro plays classical guitar and that the Vieira family owns two acoustic guitars and one electric.
I didn't mention this in my introduction, but I'll be flying with seven other exchange students. We're all from Minnesota, and we're all going to different parts of Brazil. I can't put into words how excited I am. I have not felt one bit of nervousness. That's probably because almost every former exchange student that I've talked to says that the exchange was the best year of his or her life. As of now, it all looks to be smooth sailing. I know there will be difficult times, but that's life. I think the good ones will outnumber the bad.
If there are any questions that I have not answered, please let me know, and I will answer them. Thanks again for reading. Stay tuned.
Wake up. Eat. Hug Mom. Say goodbye. Board plane. Find seat. Sit down. Fly to Atlanta, then Brasilia, then Sau Paulo, then Londrina. Get out of plane. Look for a sign that probably says, "Francis Johnson." Meet host family. Greet host family. Find Luggage. Get in car (or perhaps public transport). Ride through Londrina. Get out at new home. Tour new home. Make bed. Take picture of bed. Send picture to Mom. Sleep.
That's how I envision my last day in America and my first day in Brazil.
Thank you for reading. This is the first of hopefully many entries. I think an appropriate way to start is to re-answer some of the questions I have been asked the last few months. After that, once I'm actually in Brazil, I'll tell you what I'm doing.
1. Yes. I am excited.
2. I'm doing an exchange mostly because of the influence of some of my friends: Isaac Rysdahl, Jon Braegelmann, Henry Kunerth, Tessa Makepeace, and Marie Torp. Perhaps you already know what they did, but I'll just clarify. Isaac volunteered in Guatemala with his brother David, and he is currently building a school in Peru with his brother Gabe; Jon went on an exchange to India; Henry went to Norway; Tessa went to Germany; and Marie is from Norway but went to Cathedral in New Ulm in 09-10. These friends of mine planted the idea into my head, and the Rotary program made it a reality.
3. Brazil was my first choice -- technically. Originally I wanted to go to Spain for two reasons: (1) they speak Spanish in Spain, and (2) Spain, being in Europe, is in close proximity with the rest of Europe. Those are legitimate reasons, right? However, when I went to the Rotary Country Fair, an event where inbound exchange students 'sell' their countries to potential outbound exchange students, I found out that I was too old to go to Spain or any other Spanish speaking country. Fortunately, I met a crew of Brazilian Rotary kids who thoroughly convinced me that I would love their country. I haven't looked back since.
4. I took three and a half years of Spanish, and I have spent the last seven months slowly converting my Spanish to Portuguese. I found out Brazil was my host country right before New Years. Portuguese and Spanish are Romance Languages. Portuguese shares similar words and structure with Spanish and has sort of a French pronunciation. I have used books, an online language software called Byki (which I strongly recommend to anyone who wants to learn the basics of a language without paying a cent), DVDs with Portuguese subtitles, and to save the best for last, some of the Brazilian exchange students: Marcos, Ricardo, Thaisa, and Ana Clara. It is thanks to them that I know some hip, youthful vernacular. However, it's also thanks to them that when people ask me to say something in Portuguese, I have to filter out language I wouldn't use in front of my mother.
5. The city I'll be living in is in the South. It's called Londrina, in the state of Paranรก. It's got a population of about 500,000, and it's absolutely beautiful. Check out some pictures at http://www.google.com/images?hl=en&biw=1366&bih=575&gbv=2&tbs=isch%3A1&sa=1&q=londrina&aq=f&aqi=&aql=&oq=&gs_rfai=
6. I'll be attending high school for approximately five hours each day, and I am required to "make an earnest effort to succeed." :) Yes, that's a smiley face.
7. My first home is a family of four: Nelson (dad), Marizelia (mom), Pedro (brother, 18), and Maria Luisa (sister, 16). Maria Luisa is going on an exchange in Belgium. She leaves during the second week of August. Pedro did an exchange in Denmark last year. He will be living at home and going to college when I'm there. I've been teaching myself guitar for about a year now, and I was very pleased to find out that Pedro plays classical guitar and that the Vieira family owns two acoustic guitars and one electric.
I didn't mention this in my introduction, but I'll be flying with seven other exchange students. We're all from Minnesota, and we're all going to different parts of Brazil. I can't put into words how excited I am. I have not felt one bit of nervousness. That's probably because almost every former exchange student that I've talked to says that the exchange was the best year of his or her life. As of now, it all looks to be smooth sailing. I know there will be difficult times, but that's life. I think the good ones will outnumber the bad.
If there are any questions that I have not answered, please let me know, and I will answer them. Thanks again for reading. Stay tuned.
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