It all started out last weekend when Vere and I started asking some of our fellow capoeira members if they wanted to go out dancing. We just wanted to spend a little time with them outside of class and get our groove on like we used to back in the day in Korea. That weekend, no one was really able so we started making plans for the following weekend nice and early (it would be my last weekend in Brasilia so it was a now-or-never situation). We really only intended for it to be a few people...whoever wanted to...and to be a simple thing.
A couple days before it, though, we got invited to a group chat called "Samba das Gringas" that included our entire capoeira group. That was already taking it a little extreme because it wasn't meant to be about the two of us and we didn't mean for the planning to be so complex. From that point on though, plans were made and pretty much everyone ended up coming.
Vere lent me some heels (I had to forego mine when I packed my backpack and left Ohio) but they were a little bit too big for me, which proved to be my first problem of the night. We took a bus to the mall where we were going to meet our friends. All-too-excited to finally be hanging out with our friends and all-too-confident now that we were going dancing instead of going to fail miserably at another capoeira class, I happily jumped down off the bus. Bad move. As I landed, something went wrong with the heels and I completely lost balance. On my way to eat some pavement, I grabbed some random girl standing in front of me and kept myself from falling all the way. I'm sure it wasn't a pretty sight but it was HILARIOUS. I was laughing so hard that I couldn't even say sorry or thank you to the girl that I used to save myself from falling on my face. I laughed hysterically as we walked toward our meeting place, through the 30 or so people who were standing there waiting for buses, and didn't stop for quite a while after.
Our friends finally came to meet us and they took us to a live-samba club called Calaf, where we had reserved a table. We sat chatting for a while and then later got up to dance. Our friends were teaching us to samba and life was all good! One friend took some pictures and put up a facebook status with #despedidagringa which was when I realized that this was sort of a goodbye party for me...even though that really wasn't we had intended.
A bit later, our friends decided we should go dance in front of the stage where the band was playing so a large group of us moved over there. After a song or two, the band stopped and the singer said a bunch of things in Portuguese that I wasn't even listening to and then...said my name. All my friends starting laughing and yelling and pushing me towards the stage. I didn't quite know what was going on but I knew enough to absolutely refuse. I said no and planted my feet firmly where I was standing but I was no match for a whole team of capoeiristas. They told me I had to go on stage and all but pushed me up there...some guy that worked there even came and took my hand, dragging me past security and up onto the stage.
I walked out with the singer still talking to me into the microphone, even though I had no idea what he was saying, and I just stood there with the bright lights shining down in my eyes, the band behind me, and my horrible friends standing down below, cheering and getting out their video cameras. Rude. People cheered and the band started playing. I probably would've just kept standing there the whole time but one of my friends down below (the one who'd mostly been teaching us how to samba in the first place) pointed at her feet and started dancing. I just looked at her feet and copied what she was doing like I had been the rest of the night and waited for the horribly embarrassing moment to be over. The song ended, the singer said something else, people clapped and I was finally dismissed.
I got off the stage, face bright red and ready to wring each of my friend's necks. Vere later told me that she'd thought someone was going up there with me or else she would've and I even later found out that the singer had been telling ALL of us to go up. But since I didn't speak Portuguese or know what was going on and had only heard him say my name, they very conveniently could pretend that it was just supposed to be me. Rude, rude, rude, rude, rude. And yet another reason I need to learn Portuguese.
It was horribly embarrassing to dance samba in front of a club-full of Brazilians who actually know how to dance it and to have no idea what anyone was saying the entire time. BUT...I know how important it is to be pushed outside your comfort zone. They pushed me way out and, for that, I have to be grateful. I wouldn't have said that in the moment but, looking back, I'm sure it was good for me.
Once that whole mess was over, we kept on with our dancing and enjoyed the rest of our night together. I'm grateful to my friends in this group, who I haven't even known for a full month yet, for everything they've taught me during my time here in Brasilia. Not only did they help us a ton with capoeira, but I've learned from them about courage, leaving our comfort zones, happiness, peace and health. They've given us tons of laughs, multiple rides, and all came out to party, just because it was my last weekend. This capoeira way of life is really beautiful and I'm glad to be a part of it, even if every time (playing capoeira or dancing samba) is extremely humiliating. This means I'm growing, right?
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
Monday, March 23, 2015
It's like a giant hug :)
The entire time I've been in Brazil, I've been in constant shock by how nice people are to me and to each other.
First, we can look at it from a customer service perspective. I just spent three months in Peru, where the customer service philosophy is certainly different than the one we have in the U.S. (you know, the one where the customer is the most important and is always right). In Peruvian stores, it was often high school kids working who didn't care one bit about answering your questions. I made some great friends in some of the smaller shops but, as far as big stores are concerned, customer service seemed a bit useless to me. In Brazil, on the other hand, I've never had such over-the-top customer service and I feel like it's weird to be treated this well just for shopping in someone's store.
Vere and I were buying yarn and material at a little shop one day and could not have been more obnoxious customers. We asked what felt to me like 100 different questions, had the ladies who worked there retrieve and put back countless strings of yarn and meters of material, and then stood there discussing our different options for way too long. If we were leaving that store in the U.S., the workers would've fake-smiled and (somewhat sarcastically) wished us a nice day because they had to, even though we were just a giant pain for them for the past hour. Well here in Brazil, for some reason, these women seemed ridiculously grateful to have had us in their store. As we were leaving, the one touched our arms, looked into our eyes, and gave us the most sincere thank-you I think I've ever heard. I was so confused.... We walked out of the store and I ranted the whole way back about how we were such pains in the ass and the fact that I didn't understand how she could be so nice to us.
In my opinion, a perfect synonym for Brazil would be patience. It seems to be the foundation of every aspect of life here. For example, the majority of the music we've heard is a very chill type of samba or forro. The majority of it is not crazy-fast like my favorite salsa songs, but a lot calmer. Even the language, itself, is extremely patient. The Brazilian Portuguese intonation is slow, calming, beautiful and reassuring. I'm pretty sure that anyone freaking out about something could be immediately pacified if they simply had a conversation in Portuguese (although I won't really be able to test that out for sure until I'm entirely fluent and don't have the language barrier, itself, stressing my out). I automatically feel happy, relaxed and at-peace when someone is speaking to me in Portuguese. It's beautiful.
Even though I'm currently in Brasilia, where the people are not even close to being considered the kindest in the country and where there's no ocean to be found, I feel that relaxed, island vibe everywhere I go. It's warm weather, beautiful blue skies and pure tranquility all around; the sounds of Portuguese and Brazilian music float through the air and smiles greet you everywhere you go.
Since I've been able to stay in one spot in the country for a while now, I've gotten to know some people and have noticed how much more touchy-feely Brazil is than other places I've been. I've noticed that even older married couples are always holding hands, rubbing each other's shoulders or touching in some way when they're in public, the way we do in the U.S. when we're in middle school or high school. It's really sweet but totally caught me off-guard at first.
Friends do this, too. I went to a get-together of Vere's coworkers (who are all close friends) and I noticed that they were all doing things like holding hands, touching arms, and playing with each others' hair. Someone even started playing with my hair at one point and I'd just met them. In the U.S. it's only close girl-friends that do this and it's not as often. This group seemed like a giant family to me, though; everyone (different ages, skin colors, sexual orientations) was equally included and loving toward each other. It seems that, in Brazil, touch is a much more widely-used love language than in the U.S. I could see a lot of people in the U.S. being uncomfortable with this but I, who love hugs, love it!
First, we can look at it from a customer service perspective. I just spent three months in Peru, where the customer service philosophy is certainly different than the one we have in the U.S. (you know, the one where the customer is the most important and is always right). In Peruvian stores, it was often high school kids working who didn't care one bit about answering your questions. I made some great friends in some of the smaller shops but, as far as big stores are concerned, customer service seemed a bit useless to me. In Brazil, on the other hand, I've never had such over-the-top customer service and I feel like it's weird to be treated this well just for shopping in someone's store.
Vere and I were buying yarn and material at a little shop one day and could not have been more obnoxious customers. We asked what felt to me like 100 different questions, had the ladies who worked there retrieve and put back countless strings of yarn and meters of material, and then stood there discussing our different options for way too long. If we were leaving that store in the U.S., the workers would've fake-smiled and (somewhat sarcastically) wished us a nice day because they had to, even though we were just a giant pain for them for the past hour. Well here in Brazil, for some reason, these women seemed ridiculously grateful to have had us in their store. As we were leaving, the one touched our arms, looked into our eyes, and gave us the most sincere thank-you I think I've ever heard. I was so confused.... We walked out of the store and I ranted the whole way back about how we were such pains in the ass and the fact that I didn't understand how she could be so nice to us.
In my opinion, a perfect synonym for Brazil would be patience. It seems to be the foundation of every aspect of life here. For example, the majority of the music we've heard is a very chill type of samba or forro. The majority of it is not crazy-fast like my favorite salsa songs, but a lot calmer. Even the language, itself, is extremely patient. The Brazilian Portuguese intonation is slow, calming, beautiful and reassuring. I'm pretty sure that anyone freaking out about something could be immediately pacified if they simply had a conversation in Portuguese (although I won't really be able to test that out for sure until I'm entirely fluent and don't have the language barrier, itself, stressing my out). I automatically feel happy, relaxed and at-peace when someone is speaking to me in Portuguese. It's beautiful.
Even though I'm currently in Brasilia, where the people are not even close to being considered the kindest in the country and where there's no ocean to be found, I feel that relaxed, island vibe everywhere I go. It's warm weather, beautiful blue skies and pure tranquility all around; the sounds of Portuguese and Brazilian music float through the air and smiles greet you everywhere you go.
Since I've been able to stay in one spot in the country for a while now, I've gotten to know some people and have noticed how much more touchy-feely Brazil is than other places I've been. I've noticed that even older married couples are always holding hands, rubbing each other's shoulders or touching in some way when they're in public, the way we do in the U.S. when we're in middle school or high school. It's really sweet but totally caught me off-guard at first.
Friends do this, too. I went to a get-together of Vere's coworkers (who are all close friends) and I noticed that they were all doing things like holding hands, touching arms, and playing with each others' hair. Someone even started playing with my hair at one point and I'd just met them. In the U.S. it's only close girl-friends that do this and it's not as often. This group seemed like a giant family to me, though; everyone (different ages, skin colors, sexual orientations) was equally included and loving toward each other. It seems that, in Brazil, touch is a much more widely-used love language than in the U.S. I could see a lot of people in the U.S. being uncomfortable with this but I, who love hugs, love it!
To punch, or not to punch?
Well, I've met some interesting characters lately. Vere, being the generous soul that she is, offered to let two French travelers that she'd met on a bus a few weeks before come stay at her house. I love couch surfing and was obviously on-board with the whole idea. I hadn't woken up yet that morning when they rang the doorbell and was just getting out of bed, as they were coming up the stairs. As they walked in, Vere said, "This is Shannon. She's from the U.S." The French guy, sounding burdened, responded immediately with "Oh. So we're speaking English then." I was slightly offended (even though that's a fair assumption for the majority of Americans) and answered that we could speak Spanish or Portuguese (the only other possible options for he and Vere) if they wanted and that I'd be able to keep up. It turned out, though, that the French girl only speaks French and English so it was because of her that we needed to speak English. That was no problem, of course, but I was a little annoyed by the fact that this dude had tried to blame the fact that we only had English as a common language on me. If I were a monolingual American, I would've had to just accept the condescension in his tone and assume it really was my fault that we only had one common language.
Then later, as we sat around having breakfast together, we started discussing different aspects of Brazilian culture (traffic, racism, social classes, attitudes toward traveling, etc...) and comparing them to our home countries of France, Mexico and the U.S., as well as the many other countries that the four of us had traveled to. I went off on a bit of a tangent explaining realities in the U.S., which I constantly feel like I have to do in order to explain to the world that average life there is not necessarily what we portray on TV, through music and in Hollywood movies, nor is it the perfect dream land we try to tell the world it is. Just like Americans have misconceptions about other countries before going there, people in other countries have misconceptions about the U.S. before going. Every country in the world is great but I like to remove other people's "the grass is always greener" ideas when possible since I've been in multiple yards.
Anyway, after getting all of that out in the open, I told them that I so appreciated conversations like this because I can't have them when I go 'home' to the U.S. They didn't understand, of course, because people in their countries travel more than people in the U.S. (I am again, obviously, excluding "traveling" to resort-type places...I mean staying in real homes, among the average people, learning about the actual life and culture there). They thought it was crazy when I said that the majority of the people in my family have never really traveled so I, therefore, can't talk to them about what it's like to live in different healthcare systems, work in different education systems, live with different traffic and social laws, live under different taxation systems and so on. French people travel a lot more than Americans so, when these guys go home, they can freely discuss what they've seen and done; the people around them not only understand but can add to it with their own ideas and experiences. It makes for amazing cross-cultural conversation. However...when I said all this, they yelled something along the lines of "What are you talking about?? Cross-cultural?! You've been talking about the U.S. for the past hour!" 'Hour' was certainly an exaggeration but my tangent had led to them making a joke about how even this conversation with an American was imperialistic...but I guess I brought that on myself. In trying to take away from certain U.S. stereotypes, I somewhat proved another one. Oops. Regardless, the conversation was awesome (it was cross-cultural) and it was my favorite part of the few days that we all go to spend together.
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A few days later, I was coming home from the grocery store and Vere's next-door-neighbor, an old dude from Belgium, heard me unlocking our door and said he was coming out to chat. Vere had introduced me to him when I first got here because he teaches English and she thought he might have advice for me on getting students. That very first conversation, he told me (with no fewer than a dozen grammatical errors) that he teaches advanced English to government workers and makes a lot of money doing so. We hadn't talked since and I wasn't going to ask him for help because he clearly doesn't speak English very well and, even if potential Brazilian students don't know that, I don't want him to be my reference. *I also want to explain: his grammatical problems are not the ones that we, native speakers, commonly use and therefore accept on some level. He was unsuccessfully trying to sound extremely intellectual by using words like "whom" but using them incorrectly.
Anyway, he heard me coming home so he came running to the door. He opened it up....no shirt on and, yes, I said he's old....and started chatting...about nothing. He seemed to be all excited to have someone to talk to and I felt sorry for his bored old soul (plus I couldn't think of an excuse to say no right away) so I accepted his invitation inside. He chatted away, every once in a while checking his facebook messages online, while I sat there and tried to be nice and listen politely. He kept getting more and more condescending, though, and I was becoming less and less of a fan.
At one point, he literally motioned to the books on his shelves and said "Look at all the books I've read." Yes. At another point, while talking about finding English students, he told me, "I could introduce you to people but first I need to know what you know" and went on to ask me if I'd read some book. I fought the urge to tell him that, while I hadn't read the book, I at least knew how to properly speak English and had been teaching it at least someone successfully for the past four years, which I doubt he has. I, instead, politely declined, reminding him that I already had students here and would be leaving the city soon anyway. He told me "Well, I know people all over the world. I can help you do whatever you want. You just have to tell me." Again, I declined.
At another point in this conversation (I think at a time when I'd said I needed to get going in order to skype a friend, which wasn't entirely true), he told me that we "Yankees" don't know our neighbors at all but that, here in Brazil, if you don't know your neighbors, there's a real problem. I've since asked multiple Brazilians about this and they said that, here in Brasilia, that's certainly not the case. I also informed him that, depending where you are in the U.S., you probably know a bunch of your neighbors as well.
I resisted all urges to punch him in his condescending, shirtless, old-man gut and instead headed home.
Then later, as we sat around having breakfast together, we started discussing different aspects of Brazilian culture (traffic, racism, social classes, attitudes toward traveling, etc...) and comparing them to our home countries of France, Mexico and the U.S., as well as the many other countries that the four of us had traveled to. I went off on a bit of a tangent explaining realities in the U.S., which I constantly feel like I have to do in order to explain to the world that average life there is not necessarily what we portray on TV, through music and in Hollywood movies, nor is it the perfect dream land we try to tell the world it is. Just like Americans have misconceptions about other countries before going there, people in other countries have misconceptions about the U.S. before going. Every country in the world is great but I like to remove other people's "the grass is always greener" ideas when possible since I've been in multiple yards.
Anyway, after getting all of that out in the open, I told them that I so appreciated conversations like this because I can't have them when I go 'home' to the U.S. They didn't understand, of course, because people in their countries travel more than people in the U.S. (I am again, obviously, excluding "traveling" to resort-type places...I mean staying in real homes, among the average people, learning about the actual life and culture there). They thought it was crazy when I said that the majority of the people in my family have never really traveled so I, therefore, can't talk to them about what it's like to live in different healthcare systems, work in different education systems, live with different traffic and social laws, live under different taxation systems and so on. French people travel a lot more than Americans so, when these guys go home, they can freely discuss what they've seen and done; the people around them not only understand but can add to it with their own ideas and experiences. It makes for amazing cross-cultural conversation. However...when I said all this, they yelled something along the lines of "What are you talking about?? Cross-cultural?! You've been talking about the U.S. for the past hour!" 'Hour' was certainly an exaggeration but my tangent had led to them making a joke about how even this conversation with an American was imperialistic...but I guess I brought that on myself. In trying to take away from certain U.S. stereotypes, I somewhat proved another one. Oops. Regardless, the conversation was awesome (it was cross-cultural) and it was my favorite part of the few days that we all go to spend together.
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A few days later, I was coming home from the grocery store and Vere's next-door-neighbor, an old dude from Belgium, heard me unlocking our door and said he was coming out to chat. Vere had introduced me to him when I first got here because he teaches English and she thought he might have advice for me on getting students. That very first conversation, he told me (with no fewer than a dozen grammatical errors) that he teaches advanced English to government workers and makes a lot of money doing so. We hadn't talked since and I wasn't going to ask him for help because he clearly doesn't speak English very well and, even if potential Brazilian students don't know that, I don't want him to be my reference. *I also want to explain: his grammatical problems are not the ones that we, native speakers, commonly use and therefore accept on some level. He was unsuccessfully trying to sound extremely intellectual by using words like "whom" but using them incorrectly.
Anyway, he heard me coming home so he came running to the door. He opened it up....no shirt on and, yes, I said he's old....and started chatting...about nothing. He seemed to be all excited to have someone to talk to and I felt sorry for his bored old soul (plus I couldn't think of an excuse to say no right away) so I accepted his invitation inside. He chatted away, every once in a while checking his facebook messages online, while I sat there and tried to be nice and listen politely. He kept getting more and more condescending, though, and I was becoming less and less of a fan.
At one point, he literally motioned to the books on his shelves and said "Look at all the books I've read." Yes. At another point, while talking about finding English students, he told me, "I could introduce you to people but first I need to know what you know" and went on to ask me if I'd read some book. I fought the urge to tell him that, while I hadn't read the book, I at least knew how to properly speak English and had been teaching it at least someone successfully for the past four years, which I doubt he has. I, instead, politely declined, reminding him that I already had students here and would be leaving the city soon anyway. He told me "Well, I know people all over the world. I can help you do whatever you want. You just have to tell me." Again, I declined.
At another point in this conversation (I think at a time when I'd said I needed to get going in order to skype a friend, which wasn't entirely true), he told me that we "Yankees" don't know our neighbors at all but that, here in Brazil, if you don't know your neighbors, there's a real problem. I've since asked multiple Brazilians about this and they said that, here in Brasilia, that's certainly not the case. I also informed him that, depending where you are in the U.S., you probably know a bunch of your neighbors as well.
I resisted all urges to punch him in his condescending, shirtless, old-man gut and instead headed home.
Monday, March 16, 2015
̶M̶i̶s̶t̶a̶k̶e̶s̶ E̶q̶u̶i̶v̶o̶c̶a̶c̶i̶o̶n̶e̶s̶ E̶r̶r̶o̶r̶e̶s̶ ̶잘̶못̶ ̶ Erros
The other night after one of his long speeches, my Capoeira teacher looked at me in a way that made me think I was supposed to respond to one of the millions of things he'd just said (none of which I'd understood). I stared at him for a second and said, "Huh??"
Everyone laughed and he told me, "Aprende Português (Learn Portuguese)!" In a mix of languages, I yelled back that I was trying but that they all speak really f*@%ing fast!
Yes, learning a language is always hilarious at the beginning and I've had no shortage of funny language issues to keep me entertained.
The very first day I got to Brasilia, Alessandra's wonderful mother came to pick me up from the bus stop and take me to her house. Alessandra had already warned her that I don't really speak Portuguese so she was expecting language problems. The funny thing, though, was that she didn't even attempt to use words at first. She just went about miming everything to me...where the car was, the fact that she wasn't sure about how to exit the parking lot and how she felt about the traffic. Gestures certainly do come in handy when talking to someone who doesn't fluently speak your language, but that was the first time anyone had tried to speak to me with gestures only. We were both cracking up and she soon found that, as long as she spoke to me slowly, we could communicate with words, as well.
We had a lovely meal together at her house, and then Vere came by later. By the time she got there, my brain was shot from traveling and Portuguese and I could barely pay attention to what the two of them were saying. Every once in a while, I'd join in the conversation but I mostly just listened. At one point, I tried to ask Alessandra's mom what something was, asking, "Isso, o que é?" but it came out "이고 o que é?" instead. I wouldn't even have noticed if it weren't for Vere who died laughing and pointed out that I'd said a word in Korean. This just goes to show how the brain organizes languages; I have English in my native section, Spanish in my fluent section and Italian/Korean/Portuguese in my "I know some words and understand a bit but certainly don't speak it fluently" section. When I attempt to speak any one of these three, it gets completely mixed up with the other two.
This isn't to say, though, that English and Spanish don't confuse me sometimes as well. The sign on the door of Vere's apartment threw me for a huge loop the first few days I was here. It says "Puxe" (which sounds a lot like the word push in English) on one side and "Empurre" (which sounds like the Spanish word, empuje, which means push) on the other. So to my brain, both signs mean "push" before they mean anything else but, in reality, puxe in Portuguese actually means 'pull'. Confusing.
I also learned toward the end of my stay in Peru that if I tell a story with the word crocodile in Spanish and then try to tell the same story later in English, I will most certainly say "cocodrile" and there's really no way around it (it happened multiple times).
There was a pretty hilarious language mishap on one of my last nights salsa dancing in Lima, as well. I was talking to someone about my time in Cuzco and how there hadn't been many people to dance with. I said something like, "Hasta los maestros en Cuzco bailan peores que la gente de acá." The guy I was talking to looked shocked and we both burst out laughing. I'd been meaning to say something like "The teachers in Cuzco aren't even as good as the regular dancers here" but it actually came out more like "The teachers in Cuzco are even worse than the regular dancers here." There's kind of a big difference there since I was talking to one of these 'regular dancers'.
Linguistics are half the fun of my travels so bring on more hilarity, brain!!
Everyone laughed and he told me, "Aprende Português (Learn Portuguese)!" In a mix of languages, I yelled back that I was trying but that they all speak really f*@%ing fast!
Yes, learning a language is always hilarious at the beginning and I've had no shortage of funny language issues to keep me entertained.
The very first day I got to Brasilia, Alessandra's wonderful mother came to pick me up from the bus stop and take me to her house. Alessandra had already warned her that I don't really speak Portuguese so she was expecting language problems. The funny thing, though, was that she didn't even attempt to use words at first. She just went about miming everything to me...where the car was, the fact that she wasn't sure about how to exit the parking lot and how she felt about the traffic. Gestures certainly do come in handy when talking to someone who doesn't fluently speak your language, but that was the first time anyone had tried to speak to me with gestures only. We were both cracking up and she soon found that, as long as she spoke to me slowly, we could communicate with words, as well.
We had a lovely meal together at her house, and then Vere came by later. By the time she got there, my brain was shot from traveling and Portuguese and I could barely pay attention to what the two of them were saying. Every once in a while, I'd join in the conversation but I mostly just listened. At one point, I tried to ask Alessandra's mom what something was, asking, "Isso, o que é?" but it came out "이고 o que é?" instead. I wouldn't even have noticed if it weren't for Vere who died laughing and pointed out that I'd said a word in Korean. This just goes to show how the brain organizes languages; I have English in my native section, Spanish in my fluent section and Italian/Korean/Portuguese in my "I know some words and understand a bit but certainly don't speak it fluently" section. When I attempt to speak any one of these three, it gets completely mixed up with the other two.
This isn't to say, though, that English and Spanish don't confuse me sometimes as well. The sign on the door of Vere's apartment threw me for a huge loop the first few days I was here. It says "Puxe" (which sounds a lot like the word push in English) on one side and "Empurre" (which sounds like the Spanish word, empuje, which means push) on the other. So to my brain, both signs mean "push" before they mean anything else but, in reality, puxe in Portuguese actually means 'pull'. Confusing.
I also learned toward the end of my stay in Peru that if I tell a story with the word crocodile in Spanish and then try to tell the same story later in English, I will most certainly say "cocodrile" and there's really no way around it (it happened multiple times).
There was a pretty hilarious language mishap on one of my last nights salsa dancing in Lima, as well. I was talking to someone about my time in Cuzco and how there hadn't been many people to dance with. I said something like, "Hasta los maestros en Cuzco bailan peores que la gente de acá." The guy I was talking to looked shocked and we both burst out laughing. I'd been meaning to say something like "The teachers in Cuzco aren't even as good as the regular dancers here" but it actually came out more like "The teachers in Cuzco are even worse than the regular dancers here." There's kind of a big difference there since I was talking to one of these 'regular dancers'.
Linguistics are half the fun of my travels so bring on more hilarity, brain!!
The Stress of Learning Something New
What's the best part of Vere and I getting to spend time together in the capital of Brasil? Our joint decision to start practicing Capoeira!
Vere took me to a park in the middle of the city on my first Sunday morning here to watch a group that practices Capoeira. I'd never really seen it before and we were both completely taken with the music, the energy and talent of the people, and the beauty of the sport, in general. They were doing what's called a roda: people make a large circle, some playing instruments and the rest clapping and singing along enthusiastically, while everyone takes turns switching seamlessly in and out of the circle, always keeping two in the middle, creating this beautiful dance. We looked at each other in a we have to learn sort of way and the rest is history! We started classes the following Monday.
Now, of course I came to Brasil intending to learn new things -- Portuguese, samba, Capoeira and whatever else I possibly could. However, since I spent my last couple of years doing the same things over and over, I was totally shocked by the difficulty of trying to learn something completely new. I've been fully taken out of my comfort zone and it's been an emotional ride.
I go back and forth between feeling elated to be learning this beautiful sport and feeling completely frustrated and desperate. From day one you're expected to join in with everyone else but every single part of the process was difficult for me. Not only did I not know how to do the moves or when to do which ones, but right from the start you have to go into the middle of the circle to play (dance-fight) with everyone watching. When you're not in the middle, you're expected to clap and sing along loudly with the songs, which I can't even understand, much less reproduce. Beyond all that, I was trying to focus, watching the people and studying their moves to see what we were actually supposed to do for when it was our turn in the middle. Furthermore, any questions that I asked or any directions I was given were all in Portuguese, the majority of which I do not understand when spoken quickly.
All I can say is that it's not quite the graceful scene we watched in the park that first week. I feel like a bumbling, uncoordinated idiot, doing every single move incorrectly and looking like a tool in-between moves. This is partnered-up with being linguistically challenged and occasionally getting off-beat while clapping because I'm too focused on everything else. I'm 100% that it's be impossible for me to look or feel any dumber.
Why keep going? Well, I have to remember that this is what it felt like when I first took a salsa class and how my first conversations in Spanish went. Once you get your skills to a decent point, you forget what it was like when you started. These uncomfortable, nerve-wracking feelings often have to be a part of learning something new and they bring important lessons later on.
I'd like to say that all this awkwardness is in the past but it's definitely going to take more than just a few weeks for me to feel comfortable doing Capoeira. This is it, though. This is where we make the choice to leave our comfort zones to stretch our brains and bodies in new ways, so that we never stop growing. This blog post is my own personal reminder of just how difficult starting to learn Capoeira and Portuguese has been so that, in a few years, when I'm trying to learn something new and it's difficult, I'll look back on this and know that I can do it.
Side note just because it's hilarious:
Everyone apparently has to have a "Capoeira name" to go by...for example people in our group have names that mean things like midnight, nocturnal, lightning and so on. They gave Vere the name Pimenta (pepper) since she's the spicy little Mexican of the group and then for me they came up with Nuvem or Neve (cloud or snow)...because I'm white. I died laughing but was also left extremely confused because, as you can see in the picture above, plenty of the other people in the group are white, too. Beyond that, I don't want my pale color to be what I go by so I'm hoping one of us can come up with something much better soon.
Vere took me to a park in the middle of the city on my first Sunday morning here to watch a group that practices Capoeira. I'd never really seen it before and we were both completely taken with the music, the energy and talent of the people, and the beauty of the sport, in general. They were doing what's called a roda: people make a large circle, some playing instruments and the rest clapping and singing along enthusiastically, while everyone takes turns switching seamlessly in and out of the circle, always keeping two in the middle, creating this beautiful dance. We looked at each other in a we have to learn sort of way and the rest is history! We started classes the following Monday.
Now, of course I came to Brasil intending to learn new things -- Portuguese, samba, Capoeira and whatever else I possibly could. However, since I spent my last couple of years doing the same things over and over, I was totally shocked by the difficulty of trying to learn something completely new. I've been fully taken out of my comfort zone and it's been an emotional ride.
I go back and forth between feeling elated to be learning this beautiful sport and feeling completely frustrated and desperate. From day one you're expected to join in with everyone else but every single part of the process was difficult for me. Not only did I not know how to do the moves or when to do which ones, but right from the start you have to go into the middle of the circle to play (dance-fight) with everyone watching. When you're not in the middle, you're expected to clap and sing along loudly with the songs, which I can't even understand, much less reproduce. Beyond all that, I was trying to focus, watching the people and studying their moves to see what we were actually supposed to do for when it was our turn in the middle. Furthermore, any questions that I asked or any directions I was given were all in Portuguese, the majority of which I do not understand when spoken quickly.
All I can say is that it's not quite the graceful scene we watched in the park that first week. I feel like a bumbling, uncoordinated idiot, doing every single move incorrectly and looking like a tool in-between moves. This is partnered-up with being linguistically challenged and occasionally getting off-beat while clapping because I'm too focused on everything else. I'm 100% that it's be impossible for me to look or feel any dumber.
Why keep going? Well, I have to remember that this is what it felt like when I first took a salsa class and how my first conversations in Spanish went. Once you get your skills to a decent point, you forget what it was like when you started. These uncomfortable, nerve-wracking feelings often have to be a part of learning something new and they bring important lessons later on.
I'd like to say that all this awkwardness is in the past but it's definitely going to take more than just a few weeks for me to feel comfortable doing Capoeira. This is it, though. This is where we make the choice to leave our comfort zones to stretch our brains and bodies in new ways, so that we never stop growing. This blog post is my own personal reminder of just how difficult starting to learn Capoeira and Portuguese has been so that, in a few years, when I'm trying to learn something new and it's difficult, I'll look back on this and know that I can do it.
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| Our Capoeira Group |
Side note just because it's hilarious:
Everyone apparently has to have a "Capoeira name" to go by...for example people in our group have names that mean things like midnight, nocturnal, lightning and so on. They gave Vere the name Pimenta (pepper) since she's the spicy little Mexican of the group and then for me they came up with Nuvem or Neve (cloud or snow)...because I'm white. I died laughing but was also left extremely confused because, as you can see in the picture above, plenty of the other people in the group are white, too. Beyond that, I don't want my pale color to be what I go by so I'm hoping one of us can come up with something much better soon.
Friday, March 13, 2015
Rio > Brasilia
There's really no better opportunity to reflect a bit and finish up a blog or two than an eighteen-hour bus ride.
I'm on my way from Rio de Janeiro to Brasilia and still completely in shock from just how well this whole thing is going. I arrived with the idea of finding a place to live and a place to work and found both within my first week in Rio. Beyond that, I can apparently speak some Portuguese because I've been talking with the wonderful women sitting next to me for the majority of this trip and there have barely been any Spanish words involved. We've talked about every topic you can imagine and had all our meals together. She's adorable and I'm obsessed with her.
I owe everything amazing from my time in Rio to the people I've met:
*The adorable couple that agreed to host me during Carnaval, went to the beach with me, helped me look for jobs and housing online, taught me about Brazilian traditions and answered all 1,000 of my questions
*My wonderful new friend, Alessandra, who is beautiful, kind-hearted and hilarious and responsible for everything from me finding accommodation and a language exchange to getting me successfully from one city to another and showing me around Rio and all the Carnaval *blocos
*The precious family from the favela that made my heart grow nine sizes like the Grinch's
*The 70-ish-year-old woman sleeping next to me in her flowered stretchy pants and gym shoes, who's taken me under her wing to help me buy food, find the bathrooms and practice my Portuguese
*The random people who've helped me in the street or engaged me in friendly conversation in spite of my lack of language skills
*My friends-some of the most beautiful souls in this world-that I've been able to meet up with after years and still connect with in the exact same way, and the friends of friends that I've been lucky enough to meet
Yes, it's all about the people for me and people could not possibly have been any better to me so far in Brazil. I'm lucky to be here and lucky to be exploring the world, surrounded by the kindest people I ever could've hoped to meet.
*The adorable couple that agreed to host me during Carnaval, went to the beach with me, helped me look for jobs and housing online, taught me about Brazilian traditions and answered all 1,000 of my questions
*My wonderful new friend, Alessandra, who is beautiful, kind-hearted and hilarious and responsible for everything from me finding accommodation and a language exchange to getting me successfully from one city to another and showing me around Rio and all the Carnaval *blocos
*The precious family from the favela that made my heart grow nine sizes like the Grinch's
*The 70-ish-year-old woman sleeping next to me in her flowered stretchy pants and gym shoes, who's taken me under her wing to help me buy food, find the bathrooms and practice my Portuguese
*The random people who've helped me in the street or engaged me in friendly conversation in spite of my lack of language skills
*My friends-some of the most beautiful souls in this world-that I've been able to meet up with after years and still connect with in the exact same way, and the friends of friends that I've been lucky enough to meet
Yes, it's all about the people for me and people could not possibly have been any better to me so far in Brazil. I'm lucky to be here and lucky to be exploring the world, surrounded by the kindest people I ever could've hoped to meet.
Cue Brazilian sun rise (and I literally have a front-row seat).
Thursday, March 12, 2015
How to find Accommodation in Rio during Carnaval?
The truth is, I have no idea.
No matter how close my trip to Brazil got, I still didn't do much about planning it. From what I kept hearing, hotels and hostels alike jack up their prices around Carnaval time and there's absolutely no hope to get Couch Surfing in a place like Rio. People told me that, even if I was prepared to pay a fortune, I would've had to book these things at least a few months in advance in order to secure a bed somewhere.
No matter how close my trip to Brazil got, I still didn't do much about planning it. From what I kept hearing, hotels and hostels alike jack up their prices around Carnaval time and there's absolutely no hope to get Couch Surfing in a place like Rio. People told me that, even if I was prepared to pay a fortune, I would've had to book these things at least a few months in advance in order to secure a bed somewhere.
Well...not on this ridiculously lucky trip in which everything seems too good to be true!
Vere asked her friend, Alessandra, if we could stay at her house for three nights and Alessandra very generously accepted. Then, this wonderful couple, who at the last minute decided not to go out of town and therefore accept a couch surfer, said I could come for the first four nights I was in Rio. Somehow I had an entire week of accommodation set up in Rio during Carnaval! What???
Shworm and I had been traveling together but parted ways to go to our respective hosts' homes once we hit Rio. We were a short subway ride away from each other and somewhat able to coordiante throughout the week to meet up and go to the Carnaval blocos (street parties which ranged from horrible, drunken frat parties, complete with overwhelming piss smells, to beautiful cultural events, filled with hilarious and creative costumes, great live music, and talented artists--you just had to pick the right ones to go to).
The wonderful couple I couch surfed with lives in Copacabana, about a block from the beach. Copacabana is a pretty fantastic place. I spent a few different mornings going running in the sand, followed by drinking the water right out of a fresh, chilled coconut. Delicious. I made some friends on the beach each day and, once, ran out onto one of the many soccer fields (yes, soccer fields all up & down the beach...seriously, I'm obsessed with this country) where a few guys were practicing penalty kicks. They let me take one, I made it, and I kept running. Near the beach, there are also markets on different days, tons of fresh juice stands and restaurants, and there's music everywhere all the time (often live).
Anyway, back to the point of things going ridiculously well... After spending four fun nights with Vanessa and Robert, Vere had gotten to Rio and texted me to tell me where the house we were going to stay was. It was literally on the same street, but like three blocks down. What are the chances?!
I strapped on my over-sized backpacker backpack (the size of it still embarrasses me every time I put it on) and walked down the street to meet Vere. When we got to the house, everyone (Alessandra, her niece & niece's boyfriend) was getting ready to go to a bloco so Vere and I joined in, borrowing extra costume stuff that Alessandra had. There was a lot of chit-chatting going on while we were getting ready but the majority of it was in Portuguese. Everyone there could either speak English (Alessandra spent about a decade in England) or understand Spanish as well as Portuguese, but they were trying to help me learn. Whenever I missed too much of something, I'd give Vere a quick, confused look and she'd summarize whatever was happening in Spanish for me. Everyone there was super friendly, funny and excited about Carnaval.
As we set off, walking down the street to the first bloco of the day, I was chatting with Vere, telling her that I wasn't sure what I was going to do about the rest of my time in Brasil (where I was going to be sleeping after we left Alessandra's, when I'd visit her in Brasilia, how I'd find work in Rio, how I'd find an affordable place to live there since everything's so expensive and so on). Alessandra, who I'd known for less than an hour and a half, turned around and, in her adorable, British accent, said "Oh, you can stay at my house. I'm going to England for 3.5 months and have to pay the bills anyway so you can just stay there. If you could just pay the internet and utilities, that'd be great."
I was so dumbfounded that I couldn't even believe it was real. Speechless, I turned to stare at Vere, giving her a look that was meant to say "Is this for effing real?!? Are people seriously this nice?? What's going on?!" Vere, who'd been accustomed to seeing that confused face of mine all day and then translating whatever was said into Spanish for me, reflexively did just that. She started, "Ella dice que se va para Inglaterra y que si quieres, tu puedes--"
"I know what she's saying!" I told her. "That was my own native language!! I'm just seriously confused because oh my god...How are people this nice?!"
I can still barely believe it but it but Alessandra really did mean it.
Vere, Alessandra and I spent the next few days hitting blocos around the city and talking a lot. We all know I love to talk but Vere and Alessandra both happen to be well-traveled, way-smarter-than-me, hilarious, big-hearted people -- the exact kind of people I love conversing with.
Vere asked her friend, Alessandra, if we could stay at her house for three nights and Alessandra very generously accepted. Then, this wonderful couple, who at the last minute decided not to go out of town and therefore accept a couch surfer, said I could come for the first four nights I was in Rio. Somehow I had an entire week of accommodation set up in Rio during Carnaval! What???
Shworm and I had been traveling together but parted ways to go to our respective hosts' homes once we hit Rio. We were a short subway ride away from each other and somewhat able to coordiante throughout the week to meet up and go to the Carnaval blocos (street parties which ranged from horrible, drunken frat parties, complete with overwhelming piss smells, to beautiful cultural events, filled with hilarious and creative costumes, great live music, and talented artists--you just had to pick the right ones to go to).
The wonderful couple I couch surfed with lives in Copacabana, about a block from the beach. Copacabana is a pretty fantastic place. I spent a few different mornings going running in the sand, followed by drinking the water right out of a fresh, chilled coconut. Delicious. I made some friends on the beach each day and, once, ran out onto one of the many soccer fields (yes, soccer fields all up & down the beach...seriously, I'm obsessed with this country) where a few guys were practicing penalty kicks. They let me take one, I made it, and I kept running. Near the beach, there are also markets on different days, tons of fresh juice stands and restaurants, and there's music everywhere all the time (often live).
Anyway, back to the point of things going ridiculously well... After spending four fun nights with Vanessa and Robert, Vere had gotten to Rio and texted me to tell me where the house we were going to stay was. It was literally on the same street, but like three blocks down. What are the chances?!
I strapped on my over-sized backpacker backpack (the size of it still embarrasses me every time I put it on) and walked down the street to meet Vere. When we got to the house, everyone (Alessandra, her niece & niece's boyfriend) was getting ready to go to a bloco so Vere and I joined in, borrowing extra costume stuff that Alessandra had. There was a lot of chit-chatting going on while we were getting ready but the majority of it was in Portuguese. Everyone there could either speak English (Alessandra spent about a decade in England) or understand Spanish as well as Portuguese, but they were trying to help me learn. Whenever I missed too much of something, I'd give Vere a quick, confused look and she'd summarize whatever was happening in Spanish for me. Everyone there was super friendly, funny and excited about Carnaval.
As we set off, walking down the street to the first bloco of the day, I was chatting with Vere, telling her that I wasn't sure what I was going to do about the rest of my time in Brasil (where I was going to be sleeping after we left Alessandra's, when I'd visit her in Brasilia, how I'd find work in Rio, how I'd find an affordable place to live there since everything's so expensive and so on). Alessandra, who I'd known for less than an hour and a half, turned around and, in her adorable, British accent, said "Oh, you can stay at my house. I'm going to England for 3.5 months and have to pay the bills anyway so you can just stay there. If you could just pay the internet and utilities, that'd be great."
I was so dumbfounded that I couldn't even believe it was real. Speechless, I turned to stare at Vere, giving her a look that was meant to say "Is this for effing real?!? Are people seriously this nice?? What's going on?!" Vere, who'd been accustomed to seeing that confused face of mine all day and then translating whatever was said into Spanish for me, reflexively did just that. She started, "Ella dice que se va para Inglaterra y que si quieres, tu puedes--"
"I know what she's saying!" I told her. "That was my own native language!! I'm just seriously confused because oh my god...How are people this nice?!"
I can still barely believe it but it but Alessandra really did mean it.
Vere, Alessandra and I spent the next few days hitting blocos around the city and talking a lot. We all know I love to talk but Vere and Alessandra both happen to be well-traveled, way-smarter-than-me, hilarious, big-hearted people -- the exact kind of people I love conversing with.
Saturday, March 7, 2015
Valentine's Day
I woke up today not even realizing it was Valentine's Day and then went on to have the most perfect Valentine's Day of my life. I fell completely in love tonight with an entire family, plus two new friends.
Amanda (another English teacher from the U.S.) and I met a couple of days ago and happen to be couch surfing a street away from each other so we decided to meet up to hang out tonight. Instead of going to another crazy bloco, we opted to just take a late-evening stroll along the Copacabana beach. We soon came across a decent-sized (but much calmer than the blocos) live-music party with people dancing everywhere. A group of four high school friends was beasting some samba so Amanda asked them to teach us how. We had our language barrier fun but one of the girls spoke Portuñol pretty well so she and I were able to communicate (and I finally put some portu into my Portuñol! Woo hoo!). Then we went closer in toward the musicians and found another random but fun group to hang out with for a bit--a professor, a guy who owns an adventure company in New Zealand and a pre-pro soccer player.
Once our legs got tired from trying to samba, we went to sit in the sand and chat. There was a guy in his early 20's sitting about five feet away from us, sitting against a tree, listening to the music and playing around a bit with his feet in the sand. A large family was sitting on a blanket about ten feet behind us and the most adorable little boy you've ever seen running back and forth between the family and the public, trying to sell gum. Every once in a while, he'd bust out some fantastic samba moves and Amanda and I were amazed watching him. She wanted to buy something from him but, by the time we stopped him to ask, he'd run out. He had the most adorable and most professional air about him, dealing with the two of us who couldn't even speak the language. He'd told us he was out but then gestured with both hands for us to wait and ran off to his family's blanket. He came running back with something else he could sell to us and, as Amanda bought it, we got to chat with him a little bit, asking him his name and age and whatever other simple questions we were able to somewhat articulate. After our transaction was done, he went back to his family's blanket.
Meanwhile, another cute little boy from the same family had gone to sit next to the young man playing with his feet in the sand. It was very obvious that these two people were from very different economic backgrounds and this was the type of situation where, in every other country I've ever been, the one with more money would sort of shoo away the poorer person. It happens in Korea, Mexico, Peru, the States...you name it. Not here though, apparently. From what I've seen so far, Brazilians are the kindest, most compassionate people I've met. Instead of being bothered (or disgusted as people often seem to look), this guy engaged the little boy in conversation and, soon enough, the two of them were playing, burying their feet in the sand together.
Meanwhile, another cute little boy from the same family had gone to sit next to the young man playing with his feet in the sand. It was very obvious that these two people were from very different economic backgrounds and this was the type of situation where, in every other country I've ever been, the one with more money would sort of shoo away the poorer person. It happens in Korea, Mexico, Peru, the States...you name it. Not here though, apparently. From what I've seen so far, Brazilians are the kindest, most compassionate people I've met. Instead of being bothered (or disgusted as people often seem to look), this guy engaged the little boy in conversation and, soon enough, the two of them were playing, burying their feet in the sand together.
Amanda and I watched this adorableness happening and couldn't help but have the biggest smiles on our faces. We were pretty much staring so the two boys told us to join in and bury our feet as well and we all started talking from there. This 23-year-old guy spoke English, Italian and Spanish in addition to his native language and, after a bit, he came over to sit with us, consequently bringing along the little boys as well.
There were a seven year old, a nine year old and a ten year old and they were just the most precious little souls. Vivian (something like that, anyway), the mom of the 9 year old who had been selling gum and the aunt of the other two, came over to chat as well.
We introduced ourselves and talked a bit, but the conversation quickly turned into Portuguese lessons for us (another fantastic idea by Amanda) since we couldn't say a whole lot and, eventually, an exchange where I taught them English words as well. The lesson was simple and organic; we'd look around and point to something and teach each other how to say it. These kids were hilarious and adorable and my face started to hurt from smiling so much. All of them--the ten year old (Fernando) in particular--had such enthusiasm toward leaning these words. He asked me everything he could think of, repeated each thing multiple times with his face six inches away from mine to make sure he was saying it right, and then proceeded to turn around and teach it to his aunt or another family member.
While I was Portuñoling, teaching English and learning Portuguese with the family, Amanda and our new buddy were talking and he filled her in on the family's most-likely situation. They were from a favela (of course, because the kids were having to sell things to help the family survive) and probably intending to sleep on the beach that night. The kids would likely never have access to any sort of decent education (much like the crappy schools in our poorest areas in the US) or any chance to get out of the favela life. Having to work at ages 7, 9 & 10 to help keep their family alive, they'll never have time to study and, being from a favela, the schools around don't provide good education anyway.
My heart is exploding with love and in severe pain from thinking of the tough situations that these kids (and this entire hard-working family) will face, through absolutely no fault of their own.
It eventually started to drizzle and seemed like it was going to rain so we all got up to leave. The family-there were about 12 or so people-got up and picked up all their stuff...their blanket and the cans and bottles they'd collected. Vivian, who'd told us she was 25 years old, held her 9-year-old's hand and carried her 1-year-old in the other arm. She asked how old I was and I told her 26. She looked at me with tired eyes and asked if I had kids, seemingly expecting to have some sort of understanding between the two of us. I looked her in the eyes with sympathy, wanting to understand her situation or to be able to do or say something that could help but all I could do was shake my head and say 'no'. Because we'd been born into two very different situations, I was fortunate enough to understand nothing of her difficult life.
This family's situation is not fair...and while (I know, I know...) "life's not fair," it's sometimes hard not to wish it was.
This family's situation is not fair...and while (I know, I know...) "life's not fair," it's sometimes hard not to wish it was.
When you come across a situation like this, you want to do something about it, right? But while I stood there speechless, having no idea what to do or how to help (this family or any of the families in similar situations all over the world), I watched Amanda, a beautiful person inside and out, take her ring off and give it to the Vivian. She asked if she would accept it because the ring had four little kids holding hands and Amanda named each one of them after the four kids we'd met that night. Everything was making me want to cry all at once-the pain of this family, the beauty of Amanda's gesture, the gratitude I felt for having spent such a wonderful night with this family and learning so much from them.
If nothing else, I hope these kids walked away from tonight with a desire to learn; I hope they feel proud of themselves for doing something new tonight and putting so much effort into it; I hope their mom, Vivian, sees the value of education (and especially language education) and continues to encourage her kids to work hard and learn, just like she did this evening.
I hope that something miraculous happens to this family and every family in their same situation so that one day they can somehow be given more of a fair chance to not only survive, but to really live in this world. I hope I never forget the love we shared tonight or how it felt to see things a little more from their perspective and I hope I can somehow find a way--any way at all--to help.
Wednesday, March 4, 2015
'It's Weird that It's Not Weird' & Shworm Saves the Day (Twice)
Bruno took me tonight to his mom's apartment to meet the rest of his family. At first I was nervous because I don't speak Portuguese but it turned out they understood my Spanish and that Bruno's brother spoke some Spanish too. I understood them most of the time, with some translation help from the boys. They let me take part in their lovely family dinner and we chatted the whole time. Afterwards, they were helping me buy my bus ticket to head out of SP, doing all the research and even using their credit card, saying I could pay them back later. They told me, though, that it was going to be a complicated trip because there were no direct routes and I'd have to buy two different tickets. They explained everything to me but, in the end, Bruno decided to just drive me because he said he'd like to go to the beach, too. (I still don't know how much of that was because he wanted to and how much because they were worried I wouldn't make it there on my own.)
We set out the next morning on a six-hour road trip to Trindade, where Shworm (my English bestie that I met seven years ago studying in Mexico and hadn't seen in about 4.5 years) was staying. The road trip was beautiful (obviously...I have yet to see anything less than beautiful in Brazil so far) and we had a great time talking the whole way...he really is a wonderful person.
We got to the hostel and found Shworm right away and she and I have since spent the past 5 days together. Of course we'd kept in touch over the years but we still had plenty to catch up on (especially since she'd just spent the past five months traveling Mexico and Guatemala and I'd just spent three traveling in Peru).
We laughed that, as Shworm mentioned, the weirdest thing was that it wasn't weird at all. You'd think that after five years it would be strange to suddenly be together all the time but it feels just right and just like it did the first time. We're currently on a six-hour bus ride from Paraty, up this beautiful coast, all the way to Rio where Carnival is just getting started.
We spent this past week in two different beach towns (Trindade & Paraty) enjoying the blue water, the sandy beaches, this amazing February sun and I even got to snorkel for the first time when we went on a day-long boat tour around some of the nearby islands. We also got to go out dancing with some friends we met here and are both astounded by the kindness and generosity of the people here.
This trip is perfect--filled with laughter, dancing, sun, beaches, old & new friends and insurmountable gratitude. Ah, life...I love you.
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Facebook status written around the time I wrote this blog so it may as well be included:
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Facebook status written around the time I wrote this blog so it may as well be included:
Seriously, Brazil? The people, the music, the dancing, the nature, the language, the food...I'm having a complete lifegasm over here (I'm on the verge of actually saying "by far the best place I've ever been") and it's a pretty safe bet to say I won't move away from here at least the next ten years. Guess the rest of the world will have to wait because Brazil. Is freaking. Awesome! Let the job search commence...
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Side note: We may need to change Shworm's nickname to Super Woman because she saved my phone's life twice this week. The first time, we went to a beach in Trindade, which definitely has photo-worthy scenery. I put my phone in the little plastic ziplock bag I bought in Korea to protect it and Shworm and I headed into the water. I checked a few times to make sure that my phone didn't get wet when the bag was submerged and it seemed fine so the playing in the waves commenced. A little later, Shworm had gotten out and I decided it was time for me to head in. My phone bag was hanging around my neck like a necklace and, since it kind of automatically makes you look like a tool, I decide to take it off as I was heading in. At the same time, my dumb ass decided to take my hair down. Something about the different things in my hands confused me and I completely dropped my phone into the water. I realized it after a second and frantically started looking around but then thought better of it and ran screaming for Shworm to come back and help me look. She couldn't hear me so I ended up getting all the way back to the shore before she noticed but then we headed out to look together. Some kids had been near me when I dropped the phone so we used them as a marker and started to look. The waves were crashing in and I was sure that there was no way we were going to find it. We looked around for probably five minutes and then as I started to say, "Well, it was just a ph--" Shworm jumped in with an "Oh! OH! OHHHH!" and pulled the phone up out of the water. Somehow, even with the crazy tide and waves that day, the phone had stayed put on the ocean floor and Shworm had walked right into it.
Two days later, we were about to go on a tour of three of the islands in the area and we were going to be able to scuba dive (a first for me!). Since my phone had stayed dry despite sitting at the bottom of the ocean floor two days before, I decided I'd put it in its bag again and take pictures of the fish we saw. (You can see where this is going, right?) At the first island, Shworm and I set off with my camera to the rocks where they said we'd best see the fish and, sure enough, we did. I took my phone and swiped up on the screen to open the camera but, for some reason, it would only open halfway and then I couldn't close it. That'd never happened before so I held it up out of the water and saw that there was, in fact, water in the bag. Again, instead of just dealing with it myself, I screamed at Shworm to come help me. We jumped out of the water onto some burning hot rocks and took the phone out of the bag. I ran to pick leaves off of a tree because that was our only hope for helping the bag and phone to dry faster. It was hilarious and I don't know how my phone survived it (I guess because it was only a little bit of water?) but I have finally learned my lesson: No more taking my phone to the beach.
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Side note: We may need to change Shworm's nickname to Super Woman because she saved my phone's life twice this week. The first time, we went to a beach in Trindade, which definitely has photo-worthy scenery. I put my phone in the little plastic ziplock bag I bought in Korea to protect it and Shworm and I headed into the water. I checked a few times to make sure that my phone didn't get wet when the bag was submerged and it seemed fine so the playing in the waves commenced. A little later, Shworm had gotten out and I decided it was time for me to head in. My phone bag was hanging around my neck like a necklace and, since it kind of automatically makes you look like a tool, I decide to take it off as I was heading in. At the same time, my dumb ass decided to take my hair down. Something about the different things in my hands confused me and I completely dropped my phone into the water. I realized it after a second and frantically started looking around but then thought better of it and ran screaming for Shworm to come back and help me look. She couldn't hear me so I ended up getting all the way back to the shore before she noticed but then we headed out to look together. Some kids had been near me when I dropped the phone so we used them as a marker and started to look. The waves were crashing in and I was sure that there was no way we were going to find it. We looked around for probably five minutes and then as I started to say, "Well, it was just a ph--" Shworm jumped in with an "Oh! OH! OHHHH!" and pulled the phone up out of the water. Somehow, even with the crazy tide and waves that day, the phone had stayed put on the ocean floor and Shworm had walked right into it.
Two days later, we were about to go on a tour of three of the islands in the area and we were going to be able to scuba dive (a first for me!). Since my phone had stayed dry despite sitting at the bottom of the ocean floor two days before, I decided I'd put it in its bag again and take pictures of the fish we saw. (You can see where this is going, right?) At the first island, Shworm and I set off with my camera to the rocks where they said we'd best see the fish and, sure enough, we did. I took my phone and swiped up on the screen to open the camera but, for some reason, it would only open halfway and then I couldn't close it. That'd never happened before so I held it up out of the water and saw that there was, in fact, water in the bag. Again, instead of just dealing with it myself, I screamed at Shworm to come help me. We jumped out of the water onto some burning hot rocks and took the phone out of the bag. I ran to pick leaves off of a tree because that was our only hope for helping the bag and phone to dry faster. It was hilarious and I don't know how my phone survived it (I guess because it was only a little bit of water?) but I have finally learned my lesson: No more taking my phone to the beach.
The Beauty of Traveling
Life just keeps getting better. I've barely passed the 24-hour mark and I haven't even done that much yet but I'm loving it here. We all know that my favorite part of traveling is coming to understand the culture by way of the language, the people, the food and the music. All of those are surpassing my expectations here so far.
The people could not be any more amazing. Bruno and I have gotten really good at communicating with each other and we've come up with an awesome learning system. We've been naturally speaking to each other in Portuñol (him) and Spanish (me) but now we've started teaching each other mid-conversation. Once we understand each other on something in Portuñol, we'll stop and teach each other how to say it in English and Portuguese. It's working perfectly for us because we both have the same very basic level which is rarely the case in language exchanges. It's been a blast talking -- we've been discussing all the normal topics friends talk about when they're first getting to know each other -- and we obviously have a lot in common. Beyond that, we went out and had some delicious vegetarian food and then walked around Vila Magdalena, a famous area here in Sao Paolo with lots of live music spots. We stopped in a number of places so I got to hear different types of samba. The people around were chill (it's custom here to hang out in the streets around the bars, standing or sitting at the tables, to have drinks and listen to the bands), it was a beautiful area and I loved the music and how the people were dancing. Toward the end of the night, Bruno decided to start speaking to me in more Portuguese than anything else and, although I'm nowhere near perfect, I'm starting to pick up on some of the patterns. Tomorrow will be a real test for me because I'm going to meet his mom, who doesn't speak any English. This'll really be a first because, even though I've been listening and understanding some of it, I have yet to actually attempt to speak it. Yikes!
I'm looking forward to it and I'm so happy to be where I am right now. This whole thing is such an adrenaline rush--it's nerve-wracking to not really don't know how to get around (especially when you're me because no one is worse at directions) or talk to people but, at the same time, I see the most beauty in people when I put myself out there like this and trust in them. And we want to see the beauty in life rather than ignoring it by staying in our comfort zones, right?
Traveling shows the depth of the world's beauty in the kindness and humanity in the strangers you meet along the way. Life is absolutely amazing when you're not too scared to live it.
I wonder if there's any way for people to see what I see in the world without traveling (in this way--not in the leaving-the-country-and-heading-to-tourist-spots-or-resorts way). It's truly indescribable...I have no words to adequately explain the compassion that's grown inside me, the appreciation I've come to feel for the majesty of the world around me, the magnitude to which my mind had been opened, the gratitude I feel toward the universe and the people in it for taking care of me, or the tranquility that's settling in my heart toward all of the things that used to worry me most. All of this is because of traveling. Don't get me wrong - I'm not claiming to fully understand any of these things...but I've come to learn that they're much greater than anything I ever could have imagined. Surely, as a 26-year-old, I have a lot more to learn so I guess that means I have a lot more TRAVELING to do. ;)
Tuesday, March 3, 2015
Off to a great start in Brazil!
I'm Shannon so of course I pulled an all-nighter out salsa dancing with Jessy, leaving just enough time to run home and shower before my flight to Brazil. We went out to eat as a family (okay, it's Jessy's family but since they're the sweetest people in the world, they act like I'm a part of it now, too) earlier that night. We talked and talked and we made a big toast thanking each other and wishing each other well, looking forward to the next time we'd see each other. In total, I'd ended up spending well over a month in Jessy's house during the time I was in Peru and she became a very dear friend of mine.
The flight went well and my awesome friend, Miler, came to pick me up at the airport. The poor guy waited over an hour for me because of terminal confusion but then drove me to the city center where we had dinner.
The flight went well and my awesome friend, Miler, came to pick me up at the airport. The poor guy waited over an hour for me because of terminal confusion but then drove me to the city center where we had dinner.
I'd read online that Brazilians will find it a bit strange if you order a dish without meat here and I very quickly learned that that is, in fact, correct. We had a little trouble finding a place with what he called "healthy food" since he said he never eats it, but we found a small restaurant that had side dishes of rice and veggies and such so we decided to eat there. I know next to nothing of food types, portion sizes and traditions in Brazil and I have my food issues so I decided to order a salad and a side of beans for dinner and a fresh fruit juice. Oh man...the waiter's face? Priceless. Miler was doing all the talking and I just watched in complete rapture. The waiter was seriously SO confused by my order. The no-meat thing? A little strange but I think he could handle it. Beans WITHOUT rice?!? Apparently unheard of!!! Beans or rice alone just doesn't make any sense in Brazil. In the end, I ended up having to order rice (even though it's a separate dish on the menu) because otherwise life just wouldn't have been right in that restaurant. Hilarious. :D
Speaking of hilarious...Miler. Apart from being a wonderful and generous person, he's hysterical. He had me giggling from the moment we left the airport, giving quite an interesting tour of the city as we drove through, singing and making me laugh and discussing things such as his favorite word in English: bitch.
After a while, Bruno came to meet us. The three of us walked around the streets a bit and stopped in a pub to hang out and chat. The conversation was mostly in Spanish, for my sake obviously, since they're both Brazilian. My favorite part? Miler was talking to Bruno when he got stuck and turned to me and, somewhat frantically, in English, asked, "How do you say Friday in Spanish?!?" I died laughing. As if Bruno wouldn't have understood if he'd said it in their native language rather than Spanish! I guess it's just weird to switch back and forth once you've started a relationship in one language; it seems like the person you're talking to will only understand you in that language whether that's true or not. Or it's like when you're translating for someone or switching back and forth between languages and you turn to a person and accidentally speak in the wrong language. Either way....totally understandable but hilarious.
Afterwards, Bruno drove me back to his house. He is the SWEETEST. He carried my heavy-ass backpack and spoke either Portuñol or really slow Portuguese for me all night which, I'm sure, was a giant pain. When Jessy had originally asked him if I could stay at his house for a few days, he'd said he was remodeling so there was nothing there and that it was messy but that I could if I wanted to. We got to his house and he gave me a key, the only bed in the apartment (yes, he slept in a sleeping bag on the floor in the other room the whole time I was there), bags of groceries and toiletries that he'd bought just for me and then stayed up til 2:30 a.m. explaining things to me (our language issues slowed our conversation down and my lack of knowledge of Sao Paolo didn't help) even though he has to get up just three hours later for work.
The people I'm with when I first get to a country make all the difference (just like my Mexican family the day I met them, Jessy the day we got to Peru and Jooyeon when I first got to Korea)...and these are the nicest guys EVER. = Loving Brazil.
Now this I really can't believe...
As surreal as all my trips are, I guess it's easier for me to believe that I'm going to a Spanish-speaking country than anywhere else. But my airline ticket says I'm on my way to Brazil so I guess I should start believing it!
Although I did do some Portuguese studying over the past few months, it was barely anything. I can understand a lot of what I read because of Spanish but I really have no idea what it sounds like and I'm sure I won't understand other people for a while at first and my answers for a very long time will certainly be in Portuñol.
Although I did do some Portuguese studying over the past few months, it was barely anything. I can understand a lot of what I read because of Spanish but I really have no idea what it sounds like and I'm sure I won't understand other people for a while at first and my answers for a very long time will certainly be in Portuñol.
Everything in my trip was planned last-minute (obviously) so only the day before yesterday did I get a place set up to stay for when I first get to SP. After I sent out 20+ unsuccessful couch surfing requests, Jessy remembered she'd met a guy from Brazil over New Year's and texted him on the off-chance that he'd have a place for me to stay. Unbelievably, he did and I'm headed there now!
We've been in touch the last couple of days and have been able to communicate but the whole thing is cracking me up. Bruno is writing all in Portuguese and I'm writing almost all in Spanish. We understand each other for the most part but I have to use a translator to help me, too. Writing is one thing, though, and speaking will be another. I have no idea how we're going to communicate when I get there but I bet it'll be entertaining and I'm excited to see it.
From the interactions I've had with this guy and other Brazilians I've met on this trip, I can tell I'm going to feel welcomed and have a blast there! My friend Miler, a Brazilian that I met on my bus ride from Arequipa to Cuzco, is coming to get me at the airport and this guy, Bruno, that Jessy knows is letting me stay in his home. They've both offered to hang out with me and show me around the city and Miler even offered to take me to the hair salon to get my dreads if I decide to!
Anyway, I still can't believe I'm going to Brazil and that, within the next few hours, I'll be completed surrounded by Portuguese...I can not wait!!
My vida this week has been one giant pendejada after another...but it's been really entertaining.
When I got to Jessy's the third time, she had three Colombian couch surfers staying at her house so we all went out dancing together that night. In the morning, they all got up to go to the park but I was still tired from traveling so I decided to sleep in a bit and then meet up with them later. I woke up and saw a note from Jessy with two keys sitting on top; one to her house and one to her bedroom. I texted her and said I'd just jump in the shower and then head over to where they were. Plans changed, however, when I tried to open her bedroom door after showering down the hall and realized I had locked myself out. The good news was that I at least had my pajamas with me. The bad news was that I didn't have the key, my phone or anything else. I decided to go up on their roof and sunbathe until they came back. It was fine...although I made things a bit awkward by taking my shirt off and not realizing that there were other people in the house. A guy who rents a room on their fourth floor came up to do his laundry...so that was kind of hilarious. Anyway, it turned out to be around a four-hour wait but it was super nice outside so it was alright. Oops.
Next came the whole mess of me trying to get a visa to Brazil. I went online to read about it and see what I needed but the website for the Brazilian embassy in Peru was quite contradictory and in no way helpful. I decided to do what I thought was the responsible thing and just go in and ask what they'd need from me instead of guessing and ending up going with incorrect or not enough documents. Jessy and I got there and had barely opened our mouths to ask when the employee handed us a piece of paper with the website printed on it. We tried to politely explain that we'd already been reading on the website and that it had lots of confusing information but, again, before we could even finish what we were saying, he shoved the paper in our faces and told us to come back with all the necessary documents after we'd read online. Fail.
The next day, I went in and was denied because they wanted me to write down my estimated itinerary and I apparently needed US dollars (which I obviously didn't have) in order to pay. This was why we'd gone in to ask what I needed in the first place but obviously that hadn't worked. Another fail.
The day after, we went in with my USDs and I was told I had to go to the nearby bank to pay and come back with the receipt before I could officially apply. The embassy was just about to close for the morning so Jessy and I took off on a dead sprint, crossing two busy roads and breathing heavily by the time we got into the bank. At the bank, they asked me if I wanted to pay with Peruvian Soles or U.S. Dollars. I thought it was a joke. I hoped it was a joke. But it was not a joke. That was the moment we learned that the embassy's contradictory nature was not only reserved for their online services. So if you're wondering if I could've paid for the visa the day before when they sent me away for not having USD, the answer is yes. Anyway, we sprinted back and, to his dismay, wedged ourselves in past the guard as he was quite literally closing the door.
I triumphantly handed the unhelpful d-bag behind the counter my bank receipt and he finally accepted everything. He wrote on a small piece of paper to come back on Jan. 29th to pick up my visa. The 29th. But I already had a flight booked to Brazil for the 28th. I asked him if there was anything I could possibly do...pay an extra fee or something...in order to get my visa a little sooner but, as I'd seen him do to many other people in that same office while waiting in their long lines throughout the week, he just smiled his tool-ish smile and shook his head. Epic fail.
Granted, I should've gone in earlier to begin my visa process but, had the workers at the embassy been a bit more helpful any one of the days I'd gone in, I could've applied a day earlier and kept my same flight. In reality, however, my only choice then was to change it. I called the airline and explained the situation but they didn't have another flight of the same price until a full week after the original. That meant that on top of paying the $75 fee to change my flight, I had to stay illegally in Peru for four days and, consequently, pay a fine on my way out of the country. Fail, fail, fail.
Yes, one big pendejada is the perfect way to describe the week but it included a lot of laughs for that very reason and it also meant I got to spend an extra week with my Jessy, dancing and playing around in Lima. I made a few more friends that week before I left, too, so it really wasn't all bad. :)
The next day, I went in and was denied because they wanted me to write down my estimated itinerary and I apparently needed US dollars (which I obviously didn't have) in order to pay. This was why we'd gone in to ask what I needed in the first place but obviously that hadn't worked. Another fail.
The day after, we went in with my USDs and I was told I had to go to the nearby bank to pay and come back with the receipt before I could officially apply. The embassy was just about to close for the morning so Jessy and I took off on a dead sprint, crossing two busy roads and breathing heavily by the time we got into the bank. At the bank, they asked me if I wanted to pay with Peruvian Soles or U.S. Dollars. I thought it was a joke. I hoped it was a joke. But it was not a joke. That was the moment we learned that the embassy's contradictory nature was not only reserved for their online services. So if you're wondering if I could've paid for the visa the day before when they sent me away for not having USD, the answer is yes. Anyway, we sprinted back and, to his dismay, wedged ourselves in past the guard as he was quite literally closing the door.
I triumphantly handed the unhelpful d-bag behind the counter my bank receipt and he finally accepted everything. He wrote on a small piece of paper to come back on Jan. 29th to pick up my visa. The 29th. But I already had a flight booked to Brazil for the 28th. I asked him if there was anything I could possibly do...pay an extra fee or something...in order to get my visa a little sooner but, as I'd seen him do to many other people in that same office while waiting in their long lines throughout the week, he just smiled his tool-ish smile and shook his head. Epic fail.
Granted, I should've gone in earlier to begin my visa process but, had the workers at the embassy been a bit more helpful any one of the days I'd gone in, I could've applied a day earlier and kept my same flight. In reality, however, my only choice then was to change it. I called the airline and explained the situation but they didn't have another flight of the same price until a full week after the original. That meant that on top of paying the $75 fee to change my flight, I had to stay illegally in Peru for four days and, consequently, pay a fine on my way out of the country. Fail, fail, fail.
Yes, one big pendejada is the perfect way to describe the week but it included a lot of laughs for that very reason and it also meant I got to spend an extra week with my Jessy, dancing and playing around in Lima. I made a few more friends that week before I left, too, so it really wasn't all bad. :)
What I Should've Said
Jessy, whose house we couch surfed at our first few nights in Peru and then again later in the trip, could not have been a more gracious host. We met up in Cuzco while she was there ringing in 2015 and she generously invited me to come spend even more time with her at her house in Lima. It was supposed to be another two weeks but ended up being three. Her family is the sweetest and included me in all family activities - parties, going out to eat and family dinners - and never complained about The Gringa That Wouldn't Leave or that I took up all of their daughter's time. Jessy and I spent plenty of time hanging out, dancing and eating ceviche, just as I'd hoped!
One night in Lima, Jessy and I went to her friends' house for a small get-together before we went out dancing. I hadn't met most of these friends of hers yet, but they graciously welcomed me in, fed me, included me in all their conversations and made me laugh a ton! At one point of the night, one of them asked Jessy how she had like New Year's in Cuzco. Of course, the obscene number of people in the Plaza de Armas at midnight also came up and someone consequently brought up the issue of pick-pocketing. Foreigners often get pick-pocketed there when it's crowded like that and especially when people are drinking. I told them that, yes, one of my friends actually did get pick-pocketed that night and came home without his phone or wallet. One of them said something along the lines of, "That's such a shame that that's what foreigners see when they come to our country."
My reply was something along the lines of "Well, he should've known not to take those things to the Plaza at midnight on New Year's Eve, while drinking and right after going to an ATM in public." However, looking back, I really wished I would've said more. I should've said,
Yes, every once in a while, someone gets pick-pocketed in your country. However, you don't need to worry because that is not what we'll remember when we look back on our time here. Looking back, I'll remember tonight and how you guys treated me like an old friend, even though you'd just met me. I'll remember Jessy and her family taking me in for over a month, out of nothing more than generosity. I'll remember all of the people who helped me on my way back to health in Cuzco. I'll remember people who gave me rides, invited me to meals or invited me into their homes. I'll remember the family of Peruvians and foreigners that I made in each city I went to. I'll remember the guides we met who taught us new skills and about your country and culture. I'll remember the people who gave me jobs when I needed them and patiently taught me how to do them. I'll remember my "Peruvian mom" who spent hours cooking for others every day and took time out of her day to spend with me. I'll remember Kevin and the group we did the San Pedro ceremony with. I'll remember every volunteer who stayed in our 12-person dorm. I'll remember the adorable kids Andrea and I played soccer with. I'll remember the friends who picked me up and dropped me off at the airport and the people who offered me a place to stay in their homes. I'll remember the bus rides, the beautiful landscapes, the trekking, the surfing, the sand-boarding, the dune buggies, the rock climbing and the dancing. I'll remember the beautiful people I met. No matter what material item is pick-pocketed from a friend or me, I guarantee that its value amounts to absolutely nothing when compared to the gift of getting to spend time in your country. It will be completely over-shadowed by the the long-lasting impression we'll forever have of the hospitality of your people and the beauty radiating out through the culture.
One night in Lima, Jessy and I went to her friends' house for a small get-together before we went out dancing. I hadn't met most of these friends of hers yet, but they graciously welcomed me in, fed me, included me in all their conversations and made me laugh a ton! At one point of the night, one of them asked Jessy how she had like New Year's in Cuzco. Of course, the obscene number of people in the Plaza de Armas at midnight also came up and someone consequently brought up the issue of pick-pocketing. Foreigners often get pick-pocketed there when it's crowded like that and especially when people are drinking. I told them that, yes, one of my friends actually did get pick-pocketed that night and came home without his phone or wallet. One of them said something along the lines of, "That's such a shame that that's what foreigners see when they come to our country."
My reply was something along the lines of "Well, he should've known not to take those things to the Plaza at midnight on New Year's Eve, while drinking and right after going to an ATM in public." However, looking back, I really wished I would've said more. I should've said,
Yes, every once in a while, someone gets pick-pocketed in your country. However, you don't need to worry because that is not what we'll remember when we look back on our time here. Looking back, I'll remember tonight and how you guys treated me like an old friend, even though you'd just met me. I'll remember Jessy and her family taking me in for over a month, out of nothing more than generosity. I'll remember all of the people who helped me on my way back to health in Cuzco. I'll remember people who gave me rides, invited me to meals or invited me into their homes. I'll remember the family of Peruvians and foreigners that I made in each city I went to. I'll remember the guides we met who taught us new skills and about your country and culture. I'll remember the people who gave me jobs when I needed them and patiently taught me how to do them. I'll remember my "Peruvian mom" who spent hours cooking for others every day and took time out of her day to spend with me. I'll remember Kevin and the group we did the San Pedro ceremony with. I'll remember every volunteer who stayed in our 12-person dorm. I'll remember the adorable kids Andrea and I played soccer with. I'll remember the friends who picked me up and dropped me off at the airport and the people who offered me a place to stay in their homes. I'll remember the bus rides, the beautiful landscapes, the trekking, the surfing, the sand-boarding, the dune buggies, the rock climbing and the dancing. I'll remember the beautiful people I met. No matter what material item is pick-pocketed from a friend or me, I guarantee that its value amounts to absolutely nothing when compared to the gift of getting to spend time in your country. It will be completely over-shadowed by the the long-lasting impression we'll forever have of the hospitality of your people and the beauty radiating out through the culture.
Back on the bus!
It's been an emotional couple of days. It's difficult to leave a place you love-especially a place like Cuzco-no matter how exciting the next adventure is going to be. When you're so in the moment and so involved in the beautiful family of friends that you've formed, completely lost in a gorgeous city, unique to anywhere else you've ever been, loving every minute of the new, exciting life you've created for yourself, it's difficult to pull away from all of it. You know it's right because you've done this before (you've also tried to resist it and then learned every time that holding on to people or places when it's time to let them go is painful).
Even though I know that leaving was the right thing to do because I felt it in my heart, I can't believe how sad I was to say goodbye to everyone and how difficult it was to leave. Mind over matter, though! I'm currently on a nice 22-hour bus ride from Cuzco to Lima where this beautiful adventure will continue, just as it should. Listening to my music and being on the road again is quickly snapping me out of the sadness of saying goodbye and back into adventure-mode.
Even though I know that leaving was the right thing to do because I felt it in my heart, I can't believe how sad I was to say goodbye to everyone and how difficult it was to leave. Mind over matter, though! I'm currently on a nice 22-hour bus ride from Cuzco to Lima where this beautiful adventure will continue, just as it should. Listening to my music and being on the road again is quickly snapping me out of the sadness of saying goodbye and back into adventure-mode.
I feel incredibly lucky to be living this life...going from city to city, and soon country to country, exploring the towns, finding new ways to grow, learn and take care of myself, getting to know people from everywhere who astound me with their beauty and wisdom and growing to understand more about this life that I'm living.
I have a long way to go-certainly a lot of ups and downs and lots of lessons to learn; lots of countries to live in, people to meet, activities to try and things to share. I'm going to continue making the most of every minute and every adventure I have in this lifetime!
For Zach & Ian
Disclaimer: The following is not meant to be read by normal people. This, again, was just to make my friends laugh but I don't want to forget any of the fun so it's going into my blog for future reference.
A small Gonad enters her 11-person dorm room after a long night of electronica at the bar. Now an almost-empty-nester, she lies to to reflect upon the journey of her two go-sons. She knows they'll have more adventures, meet more amazing people and learn more about the world than they ever thought possible. She knows that, as much as she'll miss them, they're doing something absolutely wonderful with their lives and the resources they've been given and she couldn't be any prouder. She also knows that they'll see each other again soon somewhere amazing. She sighs, shuts her phone down and closes her eyes. She wishes the best for her two sons and, after one last fleeting thought of murdering the DJ, she falls peacefully to sleep.
A small Gonad enters her 11-person dorm room after a long night of electronica at the bar. Now an almost-empty-nester, she lies to to reflect upon the journey of her two go-sons. She knows they'll have more adventures, meet more amazing people and learn more about the world than they ever thought possible. She knows that, as much as she'll miss them, they're doing something absolutely wonderful with their lives and the resources they've been given and she couldn't be any prouder. She also knows that they'll see each other again soon somewhere amazing. She sighs, shuts her phone down and closes her eyes. She wishes the best for her two sons and, after one last fleeting thought of murdering the DJ, she falls peacefully to sleep.
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