Seasons

A fact that you may or may not know- it is winter here in Rio.

Yes, that's right. Since it's the other side of the equator, I am living in the dead of winter here in Rio de Janeiro.

Winter here is such a joke. Today it was around 70 and the cariocas (locals of Rio) were walking around in winter coats and complaining to me how cold it is here. Apparently it is the coldest it's been all year. I think that's hilarious, because it is quite warm here. Also, no one understands farenheit, not even the others who live in my room, so I'll have to work on learning Celcius.

The leaves here on some of the trees are starting to fall off. I can't believe that there are trees that lose their leaves when it gets into the 70s.

Surrounded by Celebrities

"You see that man there with the backpack?" Guillerme asked. "He's a camera man, and he just finished filming. And those girls following him are going to take pictures of the celebrities."

"Celebrities?" I asked.

"Yes. Here in Leblon and in Ipanema the famous people of Brazil live. Well here and in São Paulo. And they need to go to the mall just like the rest of us, so you see them a lot in Shopping Leblon (where we were at the time)."

Later that day after we had gone shopping (involving an incident where Mari found me looking mistakenly at children´s clothes) we were waiting at a stop light and Guillerme pointed out one of the guys.

"You see that man in the red shirt?" I looked over towards a normal looking tall guy wearing a red shirt. "He is famous."

"Really?"

"Yes. You know that telenovela we watched at lunch? He is on it." I gazed at the man. How many millions of people in Brazil know about him? How many girls have pictures of him on their bedroom wall? How many celebrities do I see every day, people who are worshipped, stalked, and known throughout this country but whom to me don`t even exist?

The thought fascinates me.

Eu amo ovelhas

The Joy of Being Sick

Adventures come in all shapes and sizes. I've been sick for the last couple of days, but last night was the worst. I was so congested I couldn't sleep. I go downstairs in the hostel at one in the morning and see a group of people that I've never met. I think about how to say it in portuguese but I am too tired, so I just say, "I am sick and congested and I need cold medication. Do you have any?"

Everyone at the bar stares at me blankly.

Me- "Okay, then. Ummm... eu tenho grippe. Um, eu needo medicine."

Random Person- "Oh, grippe! Com Nariz?"

Me- "Sim! Sim! Nariz!"

Everyone- "Oh Nariz!" They talk in Portuguese.

Everyone- "Nao tem."

Me- "Okay. Obrigada."

Strange guy- "Wait. You need hemede, yes?"

Me-"Sim, hemede."

Strange guy- "We are going to the bakery, and you can come with us and get some there."

I am suprised and happy about this, and wonder how the drogarias could be open at this hour. Well, never matter. What ensues next is me waiting to leave to the bakery while Nicola (Italian friend of mine) and this guy with curly hair both think they have what can help me.

"Aspirina!" Says one.

"Does that help congestion?" I ask. They talk and conclude that it doesn't. Then Nicola comes down with a bottle of some powder.

"Take this," He says. The others talk.

"This only works if you aren't sick yet," the strange guy tells me. Nicola gives the bottle to me anyways.

"Wait, wait, I can help you!" another guy says. He runs up to his room and brings back a pack of white circular pills. "Take one. It's for grippe."

"Tenho congestao. Will it help that?"

"Yes, it will help with your grippe. You will sleep through the night well." I stare at the mystery drug in my hand.

"Take it take it!" Some other strangers tell me. "It's nothing bad, I promise." And so I take it, hoping to god that it isn't something really creepy.

"Are you still coming with us?" The strange guy asks. I agree. We walk to this 24 hour "pharmacy" which consists of one man behind bulletproof glass and a cylinder with which we exchange drugs and money. I am so lucky that I am with people who speak portuguese, because not even they could understand the man behind the glass! I give him 10 reais and recieve a box of orange and yellow pills titled "Naldecon Noite". They tell me to take the yellow and the orange one at the same time, and none of us really know what the yellow one does vs the orange one.

I go to bed, and upon waking in the morning immediately go the convenience store and buy new drugs. I have no idea what actually works for congestion in this country, and I really really miss my old cold meds. However, no one in this country knows of Nyquil or sudafed.

Dear Diary, Entry 1

Dear Diary,

Today I found the gay part of town. Yay! Felix (the Canadian) had a bar in mind and we ended up at a gay bar instead. My gaydar has diminished since I left Austin. I see a man with spiked bands on his arms and I think, "Hmm, that's a strange fashion statement."

Oh, Diary, you'll be pleased to hear that I finally joined a gang. Max, Felix, Steinar and I are going to get AK 47s, squirt guns, and nuclear weapons (small ones) to search and destroy the whales in Norway that barge into peoples' houses. Those whales don't stand a chance now.

Did I tell you about my german friend Max? His full name is Maximillian Wilhelm Augosto Bach Jokowski... he won't tell me his full name because he's a loser and he knows this will be on the internet. But he has like 7 or 8 names. He doesn't even remember them all, and on his passport some of them are abbreviated because there isn't enough room. He's actually a cool guy even though I just called him a loser, just so you know. He likes eating desserts.

Hey Diary do you know about that Indiana Jones poster that has a skeleton head dressed up like Indie instead of Shia or Harrison Ford? Today two different people confirmed that he is a skeleton because he died while flipping through the channels on the television. So now we know.

Yana (Russian girl) is in love with acai. We are all afraid that she is addicted and is going to wake up at 3 in the morning and not be able to eat it and then murder us. I guess it doesn't make sense, but we all worry nonetheless. I will sleep with a squirt gun under the pillow just in case (plus, you never know about those whales).

I had melted chocolate for desert. While eating I learned that Max flew in an airplane over Rio and Ilha Grande today and didn't tell any of us. Silly Max!

Here's a conversation I had today that I found funny.

Me- "I want some alone time."

Steinar- "You live in a hostel. Are you sure that exists?"

Me- "Well you know I'm not sure anymore. But I will go looking for it nonetheless."

Max- "Oh well if you do find it, let us know. We'll come along!"

Isn't that funny, Diary?

I have three phrases I want to learn in portuguese this week. They are as follows.

"Can I pet your dog?"

"What is it's name?" (Cual e o nome dele/dela?)

"Oh, it's so cute!"

Those phrases would make me and the dogs very happy.

Well, that's all for now Diary!

Chiao!

Madi

Lapa!

The girls are very convincing. I go up to the balchony merely to watch the sunset before falling into a deep, long sleep after over 30 hours of consciousness. What actually happens is a three hour power nap followed by a whirlwhind of trying on other girls' clothes (my luggage hadn't made it to Rio yet) and trying on the girls' makeup while the British accents around me complain about their hair or help other Brits and Aussies get their makeup right.

Us girls put our Reais (the brazilian currency) in our bras, because in Lapa if you don't then they will get stolen. We catch a cab while laughing at one girl whose breasts get noticeably larger when she hides her money there.

Then we arrive at Lapa. I get out of a cab and I'm immediately swept into a huge crowd. Lapa is beautiful chaos. There is a huge street covered on both sides by street vendors, where you can find a caipirinha for as little as $R 1.50 (or 75 cents american), by far the cheapest I've seen in Rio. (A caipirinha is cachaca, which is a brazilian liquor similar to rum, sugar, and limes though I have seen it made with lemons and passionfruit as well). A hypnotic beat pulsates throughout the crowd, and as we walk closer I see a live band playing music that sounds tribal but better. We stand close to the band and realize that our hips love the music and we could not stop them if we tried.

We then go out to find a club. As we walk down the blocks I look up to towards the buildings. Such architecture I have never seen before. I have never been to Europe, but I feel like the apartments look old European/ghettofabulous mixed together. It's marvelous. We get to a club and Rhoda asks me, "Do you like bailefunk?" I tell her I have no idea what it is.

A few minutes later we are in the club and I am yelling to Rhoda, "I love bailefunk!" Apparently bailefunk has really dirty lyrics, but us foreigners couldn't care less, and apparently neither could the cariocas. It's got such a good beat and I am hooked instantly. I find myself dancing with reckless abandon with my new friends, never having felt more comfortable in my own skin.

That is, until a minute later when I am dancing with a carioca. About 15 seconds into our dance he starts kissing my neck (which as my girls back home all know is not okay, right girls?) and then asks, "Can I kiss you?" and of course I say no.

"Why not?"
"I don't know you!"
"But... why not? You are very beautiful."
"Because in my culture it is not appropriate and I am not used to it."
"Okay, well can I just dance with you?"
"Sure." We talk for a while before he starts trying to kiss me again.
"No!"
"But you are very beautiful."
"I'm sorry, but no."
"Just dance?" He asks. His friend pinches my butt for the fourth time.
"Tell your friend to stop pinching my butt and then we will talk."
He tells his friend off and we talk some more and he is suprisingly gentlemanly and then has to leave, and a minute later some other guy grabs me, wanting to kiss, or "mouth rape" as some of the volunteers called it. We all have to physically shove him away from me, and though it is annoying I realize that I am having a lot of fun. (Note to viewers, as far as I can tell this acceptable in Lapa or in nightclubs, no where else)

We go back to the main street with the tribal music and I realize that if you look a man directly in the eyes in Lapa, it tells him, "Come kiss me!" Even when I learn this and look at no one, guys still grab my arm. I pull away from them and they call after me, "Garota, porfavor! Namorada, garota! Voce e muito bonita!" And okay, let's admit it, I am still having a lot of fun.

We go into a club unlike any club I have ever seen. Here there is bailefunk and American music and it is basically this shabby dark room filled the brim with dancing people. "Mas Que Nada" with Sergio Mendes and the Black Eyes Peas comes on and this is where it hits me. I am in Rio de Janeiro, la cidade maravilhosa, dancing in a really awesome club at god knows what hour in the morning and nothing matters but everything is perfect at the same time.

Nirvana.

Eventually I get tired and go back my hostel at the early hour of 5 in the morning, two hours before the other girls, and the rest of Lapa for that matter.

I stay up and watch the sun rise over the bay.

It is the most beautiful sunrise I have ever seen in my life.

Kisses and Customs

Matteo- "Have you kissed your first Brazilian yet?"

"No, not yet."

Matteo- "Well don't worry. You are a very beautiful girl and I am sure that soon you will kiss one."

"Oh, no, It's not like that! The men here are very forward and I have had many offers. Just in my culture, we do not kiss people at random. Even the kissing of cheeks as a greeting that they do here is very very strange to me."

Rodrigo (pronounced Hodge-hi-gu)- "Wait. You mean you don't kiss when greeting in the United States?"

"No, not at all!"

Rodrigo- "Wait, then what do you do? Do you at least kiss on the forehead?

"Only if you're really good friends, and that's pretty uncommon."

(Ridrigo kisses me on the forehead) "You never do that there with your friends? Here we kiss on the lips sometimes when greeting a friend!"

"Oh my!"

(Everyone laughs at my response)

Twenty minutes pass, much of it spent talking to Rodrigo and the others outside. Rodrigo gets up to go and then leans over to kiss my cheek. I am not expecting it and freak out and realize that I don't know whether or not to kiss his cheek or kiss the air beside his cheek but I think he kissed my cheek so I decide to kiss his cheek but I miss and kiss his ear.

Everyone laughs again, this time raucously.

Oh, my life.

My First day in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

Yesterday was my first day in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. My flight was generally boring, but highlights include the incident with United giving me the wrong boarding pass, so when I went through security I was sent back and had to do it all over again. I flew from Denver to Chicago, from there to Sao Paulo, and from there to Rio. I was pretty calm and collected until I got to Chicago, where there in the terminal the announcer was speaking portuguese and the people around me were too, and the butterflies started. They were killed, however, by the extremely long and boring flight from Chicago to Sao Paulo. Once I got off the plane in Sao Paulo I was immediately whisked onto the plane for Rio, which luckily was a short trip.

The view from the sky of Rio was much different than I had expected. There is a huge mountain range around it that I didn't know existed! But it was when we landed that I was knocked off my feet by the city. There are grand cathedrals hidden amongst ruins, favelas (slums) all over the hillside and in each favela are many children flying kites. Graffitti covers many of the buildings, much of it very artistic and beautiful. Forests cover mountains which spring out of the city sporadically. The city is gigantic, and every neighborhood looks like it could be in a different town, with its own standard of living and style. Everything is new to me, everything, and I feel like I am in the most fascinating city in the entire world. Perhaps I am.

But I am getting ahead of myself. I haven't even left the airport yet! I wait half an hour for my luggage, which each bag getting more and more nervous until there are no bags left and it is obvious that my luggage is elsewhere. At this point I haven't eaten or slept in many many hours and I almost faint right on the spot, but remember a snickers bar in my backpack and wolf it down. It is now that I get my first taste of Brazilian hospitality.

His name is Raul (pronounced How-oo) and he works at the baggage center. He walks me through customs and makes me feel a little less dizzy, gives me his personal phone number and tells me to call him anytime I want something to do in Rio, and asks if he can copy my email address so he can contact me, then a kiss on each cheek and I am into the world.

Except I'm not. Because the cab driver doesn't speak English and insists that there is no hostel called Baron Garden in Gloria. Eventually I get the address and find a nice driver. We converse the entire way in broken spanish and portuguese. We understand each other surprisingly well and laugh more than half of the time we are together over our misunderstandings. We drive up a narrow cobblestone road that twists and turns up a steep hill, and we arrive at my destination.

I get to this "baron garden" and find merely a house with a foreboding feel to it. There are big dogs barking and growling on the other side of the fence and a lady comes out looking bewildered and annoyed. She speaks no English and the next few minutes are a confusing, complicated wreck of the three of us trying to figure out what is happening. Finally she realizes that I am to stay with her and takes me in. She speaks not a word of English, but she speaks slowly and clearly and I get the gist of what she is saying. The house is bigger than it looks from the outside, and it is gorgeous with high ceilings, an amazing garden, ornate restrooms, and a secluded swimming pool. I cut my thumb really really badly after looking through the house. The bleeding will not stop no matter what, and my caretaker sees. She cleans my wound and bandages it, and I like her a lot more.

After a few hours I am ready to go to sleep but decided to sit on the balchony first. There I meet another foreigner whom I immediately take a liking to. She is a volunteer in the favelas, and soon the other volunteers come back from work. They are all either Brits or Aussies and they are all delightful people. They are going out later in the night and are so excited that I am convinced to take a power nap, which I do, and then at midnight we set out for Lapa.

Lapa is amazing. Amazing. And I will talk about it in my next post.

Update on Homelessness

Update: my university set me up in a hostel for a month. Sometime in August I should get a host family.

Hobos Have More Fun

I'm super tired. I'm only posting tonight because I said I was going to post tonight and Nick won't let me not post. So, I post.

This week has been crazy. Yesterday I got an email from my host institution titled "Housing". I have received other emails of the sort, all saying things like "We have no idea who you're going to live with yet, but we're sending you this email anyway," but this one had to be the one, because I was leaving in exactly a week and they really couldn't put off telling me who my host family was any longer.

I read feverishly, my excitement growing with each sentence. This was the email! This was the one! I had spent weeks wondering what they were going to be like. Was I going to have any siblings, would they speak any English, what gift should I bring them from the United States when they welcome me into their home...

"I am writing to inform that you have not been placed in a home stay."

And so I find myself, one week from leaving to spend a year in a huge city in a foreign country (oh, and add in that I don't speak the language) homeless.

To be continued.