Where have I been, and will I return?

While I meant the subject of this entry to pertain to my presence on this blog, I stopped and thought about the question from a mental point of view. Where have I been? Where am I now? And will I ever return to where I was before?

I think not.

Now on to the reason I have been horribly neglecting my blog. It's because I am writing a book on being here. As of right now I have 150 typed single-spaced pages. :) Anything that I would normally have posted here is going into the book, so I haven't been on here at all recently.

Will I be back? Probably not much. I think there might be a couple sporadic entries between now and when I return in July, but don't count on a lot. One that has a good chance on making it here is a paper that I am writing on brazilian men (and women, but it focuses on men) and how they act in relationships, in marriages, how they feel about fidelity and the emotional/physical substance of a relationship... and a lot more. I am finally starting to crack open the brazilian mind when it comes to this stuff and it is so completely different from the American point of view that I will probably post it here.

Spellcheck is extremely upset with me right now because my internet's default language is português, so I'll appease it with a quote that I'll be talking about in my essay.

"Deus é fiel." God is faithful. No próximo, vou falar sobre esse frase que existe nas janelas dos carros e permanente nos corpos. Minha amiga, Xannon, ache que no Brasil, só Deus é fiel. Isso é verdade? Vamos ver!

Até mais,
Madi

This morning

So Carnaval is now over.
I got home at 9 am this morning. I took a shower and gazed amusedly at the floor of the bathroom. Glitter was everywhere. When I got out there were still traces of green face paint around my hairline. I smiled looking at my reflection and wondered if people were really capable of glowing, because I sure felt and looked like I was. I went to my room, shook some excess sand off of my sheets and dodged the many bottles of body paint scattered around my room as I opened up the doors to my veranda.
A perfect blue sky.

Changed.

This week I came to the full realization that I am not the same person who came here 6 months ago. Not at all. And I never, ever will be the same again.

And I am completely and utterly thrilled with this.

Eu Voltei!!!

I am back! For good this time!

I was without internet at my apartment for 2 months. But now I have it. Lucky us. =)

So before I begin my culture discussions, I am sure you are probably a little curious about what has gone in my life recently. Well, I will tell you straight up- and I like my coffee black so don't expect a sugar-coated summary.

-I lived in the ghetto- no, seriously, I lived in the ghetto, for half of a month and I was alone most of the time (unless you count the cockroaches) because my roommates either moved out or were traveling, unable to cook food, without chairs, couches... the only thing I had was four walls and an air mattress... oh and that man who walks around at 7 in the morning yelling, "OKAYYYYYYYYYY". There was music blasting from my neighbor's at all hours (either American pop music or Northeastern Brazilian music like Calypso, though on Friday nights there would be a television set up in the street playing Funk Carioca music). It was so humid I had a package of Oreos that turned into mush within two days. The place smelled of mold and I woke up with a sore throat every morning. There was no mirror in the place so I used my tiny makeup compact mirror to get ready when I went out at night. There were so many stairs leading up to my apartment that I was sore the entire first week I lived there. The good news? The guy at the internet place had a crush on me so I got free internet a lot of the time. However, he would always send me administrator messages asking me to kiss him. Awkwardddd. But it was a cool, if not entirely depressing, experience and I am glad for it. I now know that someone can be happy without anything, literally.

Let`s see... What else. Let's mention something wonderful that happened to me.

-I fell head over heels in love with the most amazing man I have ever met in my life. Yes, I know, that is pretty high praise. If I had dreamed a "perfect" man, he would have fallen short of this guy. The name is Guilherme. Brazilian. I have never met anybody more my type- lindissimo (the handsomest, seriously), kind, interesting, has super cool nice friends, creative, intelligent, sweet, and COMPLETELY FUCKING CRAZY.

Which leads us to the next update in my life.
-He broke my heart. Shattered is more like it. I didn't eat for days. Why did he leave me? Because he is crazy. No. Really. Or he has severe depression problems. I haven't quite figured it out. When we were together it was the happiest time of my life, hands down, so I don't regret a thing even though he turned out to have issues, but damn. Sucks to meet Mr. Right and then realize that Mr. Right is a crazy. But it figures, let's admit it, my Mr. Right would be completely off his rocker. Normal people are just too boring. Either way, there are more fish in the sea and I have met my share of them.

My Suitors in the Past Week
-some guy I don't remember except that he asked me out
-a brazilian DJ who told me he was gay and was joking but I believed him and when he asked me to be his girlfriend I said "Of course!" and held hands with him and everything and then mentioned something about him being gay and he was like NOOOO I am NOT GAY I was JOKING. Oh. Ouch. He told me that if I didn't want to date him anymore, he would understand. "Will you still call me sometime?" Oh gosh. What a blunder.
-a 60 year old cab driver named Edivaldo. I wish I was joking.

Well I think that sums it about up!

Conception of Beauty

I think it is very strange how Americans always talk about how beautiful Brazilian girls are. Don't get me wrong, there are some extremely gorgeous women here, but Americans' idea of beauty and Brazilians' idea of beauty are very very different.

In America, we idolize the breasts. Women get breast implants and we are all about that. In Brazil, it is all about the ass. Some women even get butt implants. Here no one cares about having big boobs, in fact many men don't like it, (Renata's grandpa wants her grandma to get a breast reduction!) but any man will check out a girl with a nice bunda. If you drew a stick figure of women that men like from both countries, the US would have a stick with big boobs, and Brazil would have a stick with a big butt.

For example, just google image "mulher melancia" or click on that link to get a taste of what I am talking about.
http://djtreats.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/mulher-melancia21.jpg
That is what a Brazilian man finds sexy in a woman. Oh, and mulher melancia means watermelon woman, and I think you can guess why.

Also, Brazilians value women who work out. By this, I mean women who have very visible ab muscles, arm muscles, etc. It is very strange, at least to me. Brazilian men also like their women curvier than American men do. Brazilians do not like the anorexic look, and I saw a billboard for swimsuits that had a very pretty girl with a normal body on it. That would never happen in the states. Renata (my Brazilian friend) has an uncle that prefers his women with a pooch; a flat stomach is not sexy to him.

So next time you think of Brazil, get it right- think of curvy women with huge asses (or just perfect looking butts, how do they all manage to do it?) and small boobs.

Another Apology

I have been out of town and without internet, so I havent updated, and I have tests so it will be a few more days, okay?

A Third World Apartment

Today as I helped Edgar and Victor clean the apartment, I realized that I truly do live in a developing country. Then again... maybe it's just this apartment that is 3rd world.
Here in this apartment, I don’t have many of the things that I have taken for granted my entire life. We are without a washer or a dryer and if you want to wash your clothes, you either do it by hand and dry it on a line in the house or pay a lot of money to go to a Laundromat (Laundromats here are not cheap, so everyone in the household washes their clothes by hand- who does that these days?) We steal someone else’s internet and 65% of the time it doesn’t work. We don’t have heating or air conditioning. Dish washers? What are those? I almost forgot to mention them because I have been living without one for so long. Oh, I wish I was joking. We also don't have clean water, so we have to buy our own water bottles every day to stay alive. There are no screens on the windows here (I don’t think I have seen a single one since I came to this country). Our chairs are made of wood from the 1950’s (most of them are broken) and the beds here are broken. I don’t even have a bed. I don’t know what I sleep on, but it is somewhat comfy, so it’s okay. We are without a microwave as well, and sometimes the stove randomly breaks. We don’t even have a mop- we tie a creepy looking rag to the broom to clean the floors.
And yet I am happy here. I am happy washing my jeans in the shower and cleaning all of my dishes by hand. I am happy waiting days for my clothes to dry. I am happy cleaning the floor with a really nasty rag tied to a broom. I am happy without heating or air conditioning or a bed. I am happy to be sharing a small apartment with 5 other people (not counting the random guests who come and go and spend the night). I am happy to be living in a corner of a room which I share with two men who sleep in the same bed.
I am so, so incredibly happy here in this crappy, broken, drama filled Brazilian apartment. The happiest I have ever, ever been.

Shopping Leblon on a Sunday

Here in Brazil, I am on a pay-as-you-go basis for my cellphone. Talking on cellphones here is extremely expensive compared to in the US and I need to put more money on it about once a week, even though I only use it when I need to, and calls here are never long (due to the price of a call). For example, when at home we always use skype to call other people’s cell phones and if you are out and about and don’t have credits on your phone you can forget about asking a stranger to use theirs, and you only ask a friend when the call is really important and short.
Today I woke up without credits and so I went to Shopping Leblon to put money on my phone. As soon as I passed through the sliding glass doors, I knew something was off. There were fewer people than normal, but that wasn’t the first thing I noticed. Everyone was wearing normal clothing.
Here in Rio going to the mall is an event, especially in Shopping Leblon. Every lady wears an expensive outfit, does her hair perfect, and makes sure everything coordinates just so. Every man is dressed sharp like he is about to go out to a fancy night club. And everybody makes sure to look at everybody else. I sometimes feel like I am going to the catwalk when I stroll through Shopping Lebon.
So to see people dressed normally was off putting. What was wrong? I ascended the escalator and noticed that every single store was closed. Oh, it is a Sunday, this makes sense. But, why are there so many people here then? I looked around to see couples looking into store windows like it was any other day of the week. They would point at items and converse about them, even though the store was obviously closed. In fact, the only open thing I could see in the entire mall was the Starbucks, in which there were quite a few of Rio’s upper class sipping away. I circled the second floor and watched as everyone there walked from store to store, gazing into the darkened displays leisurely.
How very strange.

Days of the Week- Final

Saturday
I woke up at 5 in the morning, extremely happy. I pulled back my curtains to smile at the sun… oh, the sun hadn’t risen yet. As I waited for it to rise I played music and danced and painted my toenails and ate a small breakfast and left the house at 6 to arrive at school at 6:45, along with about 100 other international students who were dumb enough to sign up for a field trip that left at such an ungodly hour. We went to a farm in the middle of nowhere Brazil, walked through a rainforest that had huge bright blue butterflies, paddled on a boat covered with huge spindly swimming spiders, and swam in a pool and drank a little too much alcohol; including a “mix drink” that was merely cachaca and honey. Luis and I paddled a small boat around the lake they had and chatted and enjoyed the tranquility. Renata completed the extremely hard obstacle course (go Renata!) while Christian tried and failed at it twice. Luis and I looked at them struggling and he taught me a phrase in Spanish. “Estoy borracha, perro no penteja.” I am drunk, but I am not an idiot.
That night I stood by the lake, looking out into the night, when I saw a flash of light. What was it? My eyes adjusted to the darkness and I realized that there were fireflies everywhere. I grabbed Josh, my one friend who would truly appreciate it, and together we gazed at the fireflies, which made the hills in front of us look like they were sparkling. Later we walked out onto the front lawn on the farm and lay on the grass and stared at the stars for about half an hour. All of the constellations were different here in the southern hemisphere.
Once we got back my friends and I stumbled to a post on the beach and drank agua de cocos (coconut water- they literally take a huge knife and pierce a hole in the top of a coconut and put a straw in it). A bunch of Spanish people joined us and I came to the realization that even though everyone in this country speaks Portuguese, I would have to learn Spanish just to be able to understand the people that I hang out with. I watched Josu chain smoke. Pretty much every one of the international students from Spain or Mexico smokes cigarettes, but none quite like Josu smoked this night. As soon as he finished one cigarette he immediately grabbed another one and lit. It was fascinating and worrying at the same time, watching him.
Sunday
Cristian invited me to coffee at 7 pm. We went to the only Starbucks in Rio de Janeiro and walked around the city talking.
Cristian is seriously a cool person. He is a good man, a hard worker, and he is intelligent. He loves Mexico City and spent a lot of time telling me about Mexico’s history. He was once living off of Welfare with his mom in a basement and today his neighbor is Gabriel Garcia Marquez (he says her wife looks scary and has a beehive hairdo! Hahaha). He also lives in the same neighborhood as Carlos Slim, who was the richest man in the world last year. He says that Slim drives in an old VW bug. That makes me happy. We talked about everything, from our life stories to our past relationships to our future goals in life and next thing I know we are walking through the drizzle along the beach in Copacabana and it is midnight. We had been talking for 5 hours!

Days of the Week- Part 2

Thursday

Luis (Torrez, a chicano who was born in Mexico) and I went to a Rodizio de Pizzas. This is where you sit down and they bring out pizzas and you pick which ones you want a piece of. Among the pizzas there was a pizza that was covered with steak and French fries, a pizza covered with sushi, and multiple dessert pizzas, my favorite being warm chocolate and strawberries. It was delicious and we both got extremely full.

The rest of the night is a blur. Next thing I know we are at Edgar (also a Chicano) and Josu’s (who is straight up Mexican) apartment, then we are at Baixo da Gavea and I am peeing behind a bush because there aren’t any restrooms within a half an hour of walking distance and Jaime(pronounced Haime because he is a chicano too- are you getting my point?) is standing in front of me keeping watch for other people and spilling out his feelings for a girl he likes. I tell Renata this and she laughs and tells me that one of the most vivid memories she has of Italy is one where she peed in a street. Then we are suddenly at a bar in Ipanema and I am chatting with some gringos, one of whom is crushing on me, the other is engaged, and all of my friends are going home. I say good night to Christian (Mexican!) and Josu invites me to his apartment.

That night at his apartment made me feel like I was in the movie “L’auberge Espagnole”. The Italian man (or as I should call him, the Italian Stallion) brings home one of the Spanish girls and they are at it all night long… I should also mention that his room has a sheet for a door, so sound travels. Josu tells me that Italian Stallion is also having sex with other Spanish students as well. Despite the occasional awkward noises coming from the other room, Josu, me, and a Brazilian named Felipe manage to talk for hours. The doorbell rings at 5 in the morning and Josu won’t answer it because it might be the man from Bahia, a man who lived there for a week, stole their food, and has been coming back trying to stay there ever since. Nope, it happens to be the man from Buzios who is currently sleeping with Alicia, another Mexican girl who lives at the apartment. He comes into our room and immediately falls asleep. Alicia never comes home, probably because she’s hooking up with someone else. Meanwhile in the next room down Edgar is sharing a bed with a French guy because it is cheaper to live that way. Oh, the craziness that is living abroad.

Friday

I leave the apartment at 7:30 in the morning and realize that choosing classes that start at 3 pm was the best decision I ever made (where as some of my friends have missed 6 days of class, I make it to class every single day!). I walk outside to a bright, beautiful morning and I decide to take a stroll through Leblon. Everything is just beginning to open and I realize that I haven’t been out walking this early in Rio yet. In the morning here in Rio everything seems so fresh and new and happy to see you, and I walked with a spring in my step. Good morning, Brazil!

Days of the Week- Part 1

Monday
The day started at the Federal Police. I walked in at 7:30 in the morning and walked out at 4:30 pm. Holy cow. However, two different guys asked me for my number/ on a date while I was there, which was quite flattering.
--later on---
Cristian, Renata, and I walked through the rain soaked streets of Rio de Janeiro at two in the morning, sidestepping puddles and holding hands.
“Did you know that Rio was just voted the happiest city in the world?” Cristian asked. Renata and I replied that we didn’t, but that we weren’t surprised. I looked at the three of us, walking through this amazing city, drenched from head to toe, and I knew that it must be true.
Later I caught a cab and conversed with the driver only in Portuguese. We talked about Brazil and Colorado and whether Argentines really are bad people. He told me (in Portuguese) that at that moment it was close to 2:30 in the morning, and that he loved his job driving people at night, and that he was extremely happy with his life. It made me happy. When I got home he waited for me to make it inside (the mark of a good cab driver) and we waved goodbye.

Tuesday (Mexican Independence Day)

It was one in the morning. Josu stood on the countertop and yelled in Spanish about the greatness of Mexico. After he finished a point we would all yell, “Viva!” I was one of just three people at the party who wasn’t fluent in Spanish, but I could understand completely the electricity flowing through the room. Finally he yelled one final phrase and every single person in the room (there were about 20) yelled as loudly as they possibly could.
“VIVA MEXICO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”


An hour later finds us at a bar in Ipanema. We are all chatting with a homeless man who we adopted when we gave him some of our cachaca (which is a kind of alcohol here), and he became an instant friend.

(Cristian and the homeless man)
He was giving my friend safety tips in Portuguese when Cristian asked me to dance.
Before you get any ideas- Cristian is just a friend and nothing more. But let me tell you American ladies- there is nothing quite like dancing with a Latino. I have never danced with a lover the way we danced that night- noses touching, looking into each other’s eyes, pushing away only to pull back even closer- it was the most fun I have had in a long time, and that is saying something. We sang all the American songs on the top of our lungs (he is fluent in English, having family in Canada) and danced and danced and danced. There were many moments where I was so overcome with mirth that I laughed aloud with happiness.

(The Group)

Wednesday
We went over to the Spanish students’ apartment and watched “Tropa de Elite”, a Brazilian movie about the corruption in the police here in Rio. It was good. Continuing with the theme of the week, I did not get home until about 2 or 3 in the morning.

Desculpe

I am sorryyyy for not posting more!

1- I haven't had internet
2- I haven't been home
3-When I am home, some other family member is always using the computer

I dont have enough time to post right now, but rest assured I have things I reallyy want to post about and I will when I can!

Capybaras!

We both groaned as we ambled towards the concrete wall in front of us. After half an hour of walking down this street, we had reached a dead end. I suggested just turning back, but the thought of that made us both cringe. After walking two hours to find the beach, an hour while on it, and another half an hour trying to find the street with the bus stop, we had done more than our fair share of walking, not to mention that it was now around 10 at night and busses would be getting scarce soon. We walked up to the wall in vain and saw a small path leading down to the river.
"I'm gonna check it out and see if there's a path leading to a road," said Josh.
"Watch out for possums!" I yelled back. We had seen many of them already, always giving us the death stare from the shadows.
"I found a path!" He yelled, quickly followed by, "Arggghhhhh! I just walked right into a huge spider web!"
I shuddered and looked at the "path". It was basically walking through the jungle in between a river and concrete walls.
"Come on," he yelled,"It's not far!" I stopped in my tracks. Last time he told me something wasn't far, we walked two more hours before we found it.
"No way!" I yelled. But Josh is a determined man, and wouldn't take no for an answer. After walking almost out of sight he stood there until I reluctantly followed, trying not to think about spiders too much. We walked through the tropical vegetation in the darkness, striving to see any sign of civilization in front of us, when we heard a squeal and a HUGE splash directly in front of Josh.

"What the HELL was that?" He yelled, jumping back.

"It sounded like a horse!" I answered back. We both peered cautiously into the water in front of us where we could make out a shape swimming in the night. It came out of the water and I could hardly contain my joy.

"Capybaras! They are capybaras!"

"Capy whats?"

"Capybaras, the largest rodents in the world!" We watched as 5 of them came out of the water and started grazing on the trail right in front of us.

"Are they vicious? Do they bite?" Josh asked. I answered that I had no clue, but I didn't think so. We looked in front of us and we could see the road, but five dog sized rodents stood between us and our way out. We had no other choice and decided to move forward. I talked to them to let them know we weren't a threat as we crossed the path, and they merely stepped out of the way to let us pass. We stopped once we got past them and looked back. They looked like gigantic hampsters, and made a series of barks, clicking noises, and purrs to communicate with each other. They were absolutely adorable. We stood watching them for a while until they decided to leave, swimming in the water and yipping to each other. We walked down the riverside and watched them swim down the river together, a happy, talkative capybara family in search for the next place they could eat more grass.

"Now aren't you glad we took that little path?" Josh asked.

"Yes, Josh, I am."

Trying Times

Living abroad can be quite difficult. Ironically, what used to be the easiest things to handle back in the states are the hardest things here. Ordering food, talking to someone on the bus, asking for directions... it is all difficult. Every time I leave my house I enter a jungle of unknowns and challenges. Heck, even leaving my room can be scary!
There are many things I can handle here. I can handle ice cold showers that suddenly turn scalding hot. I can handle looking down at my water glass and realizing I just drank ants. I can handle being the only white person. I can handle the constant threat of getting mugged. I can handle it when my credit card suddenly stops working and I have no money to get home. I can handle being sick for one straight month and not having any medicine that works. I can handle not eating cheese (one of my favorite foods!) because it is disgusting here, and I can handle cooking everything from scratch because they don´t have tomato sauce, tortilla chips, salsa, and many more things here in Brazil. I can handle it when my school gives me my family one month late and places me all the way out in Larangeiras where I have to commute an hour just to get to my classes. I can handle not being able to go outside alone at night. I can handle trying to go to the shopping mall and instead ending up in the largest favela in Brazil. I can handle all sorts of things but sometimes the thought of going outside and ordering a hot dog makes me want to curl up in my bed and cuddle my stuffed animal.

I´m Still Alive!

Hey readers, my internet has been down for the last week so there havent been any new updates. Sorry about that! When I get internet I will update immediately.

-Madi

Minority Status

Today I realized that I am a minority.

I walked into school today and decided to count how many people I saw who did not have brown eyes. By the time I walked into my classroom, my count was at zero. I think I might have seen one person who had colored eyes, but other than that everyone I looked at definitely had brown eyes. It's funny because I have darker skin than some of them, but I definitely stand out as the most caucasian. In one of my classes I am the only person who doesn't have dark brown to black hair.

You can tell Cariocas from their eyes. Even the convincing blondes here have dark eyes. The further south (further away from the equator) you get, you get more caucasians. Even in Sao Paulo, which is only an hour away by plane, about 15% of my Paulista friends were blonde haired and blue eyed. Not so here.

Saturday I was in a club and a Carioca saw me from a distance, walked up to me and said in English, "You're a gringa, aren't you?" (Gringa here isn't offensive, by the way) I laughed and said yes, and he responded, "You're probably the only foreigner in this club. I always know how to spot them."

Also, I have noticed that when I straighten my hair I look much more like a gringa than when my hair is curly. It makes no sense (especially because Brazilians straighten their hair when they go out and many Brazilians have naturally straight hair anyway) but I have noticed that people can pick me out easier as a foreigner when I have straight hair.

Well, I guess this is just further proof that I need to buy a pair of the amazing fitting Brazilian jeans that I see all the girls wearing. Sure, it won't make my eyes any darker, but at least my butt will look more Brazilian. One step at a time, right?

Lost and Found

It has happened here many times here in Rio de Janerio where I want very badly to find something specific but have no idea where to find it and then I get lost on my way to find something else that doesn't matter as much to me. When this happens I find exactly I was looking for in the first place (pretty much every single time I get lost this happens to me! And this is a huge city! Could Rio de Janeiro be magical?) It happened again today.

(I didn't bring my camera and none of these photos belong to me, fyi)

I was watching a Snoop Dog music video 2 days ago because it was set in Rio, when I saw it.

Around 2 minutes and 15 seconds in, they introduce the place that is pictured at top. I saw the amazing building and immediately I wanted to go there. But where was it? Was it even open to the public? I didn't know what it was called and didn't know how to look it up- and only hoped that someday I would be able to see it in person.

Today I decided to go to the botanical gardens. I took the bus there and got off at the huge gates. I entered and realized... that I had gone to the wrong park. Oh well, this one (Parque Lage) was gorgeous. I walked around and entered this beautiful old looking building.

It was filled with artwork which I gazed at before walking through an arch and seeing, to my great surprise, this in front of me.

No. Way. No. Way.

I couldn't help but smile.

Ode to a Paulista

Dear Rodrigo from São Paulo,

There were many things about you that I found fantastic. I especially appreciated it when, after my Marine Corps friend failed to keep that one forward guy away from me, you so smoothly grabbed my arm and with one look got him off of me for the rest of the night. Just for that you became my hero.

But it was when you asked me to dance that you gave me a reason to remember you always.

You led me to the very center of the club and there, lost in the faceless masses we danced. A really good song started playing and I closed my eyes, lost in the moment. I got self conscious so I opened my eyes and looked at you.

My God. There you were, magnificence personified. In the glow of the strobe lights you flashed before me, eyes closed, dancing as if nothing else existed but this song. That this very moment held within it your entire life, and that life was incredibly, incredibly happy.

And so I closed my eyes too, and let the song become me, and together we became mirages under the strobe lights.

Sometimes when I am listening to amazing songs at night your face flashes in front of me, and I smile and know that my life is a little better because of you.

Host Family

I have a host brother named Pedro.

You already know you're jealous.

Today I am going to introduce my host family.

Let's start with my momma. Her name is Marta and she is the perfect mom. She does my laundry for me and makes sure that I have everything I need. She is a very nice lady and when ever I need anything she is more than willing to help me out. I don't have a curfew and if I come home at 5 in the morning, she'll simply ask me if I had a good night the next day. She has really helped me with my portuguese and takes care of me like a mother would.

Next up is my host sister Carolina. She is gorgeous and really nice. Whenever she goes out with her friends she invites me along and always makes sure that I am included in everything. She is always friendly and chill, and I like her.

I also have a great dane named Mirrah (pronounced MEE-HAW). She looks like a cow because she's got big black and white spots all over herself. She's giant and if she is in the doorway it's like a horse is blocking me from entering the next room. I am so happy to be living with a dog!

And of course, there's Pedro. He's my favorite. He looks straight-up from the hood, with really short hair and clothes two sizes too big. In the shower, instead of singing he raps. He does grafitti and when I walk around Larangeiras I can recognize his marks. He makes his own rap music and recently showed me some of it- and it's really, really good. He is also one of the nicest people I have ever met in my life. The first night I met him we were hanging out in his room and he told me, "I want to give you some of my art. If you see anything in this room that you like, tell me and I will give it to you." I pointed to his grafitti art of the favelas, and without hesitation he took it off of his wall and handed it to me. The next night when Eric (guy who no longer lives here) ate my sandwich, he called the restaurant and ordered me a new one. When I watch tv with him he turns on closed captioning for me so I will understand it better. He always looks out for me and is the perfect big brother.

So there you have it, my new host family. I adore them and I wouldn't choose any other host family in the world over them.

Dear Diary, Entry 2

Dear Diary,

I'm the happiest I have ever been.

It's not like life is perfect here. It is hard. Things that I took for granted every day back at home, like having a simple conversation with a friend, are seemingly impossible here. Every time my host brother speaks to me I momentarily freeze up with fear. But every single moment that I manage to understand someone or speak with someone in Portuguese is amazing.

Last night my host sister Carolina took me out to her friend's house to watch a horror movie. I forced myself to come with her, even though I knew what was coming. I was surrounded on all sides by girls who gossipped and told elaborate stories in very fast Portuguese. Daunting is an understatment. At first we did not understand each other at all and they tried to speak English to me, but Carolina said, "Ela prefere falar portugues." By the end of the night we were eating popcorn and brigadeiro (it's similar to homemade hot fudge) and trying to figure out what to wear to a friend's party. The theme was fantasy characters from a movie, and they were talking about Disney villains so I suggested Ursula. Everybody got quiet. One of the girls explained to me (in portuguese of course) that the girl who was having a party's name was Ursula. Lol!

We went home at 2 in the morning and I gave everyone goodnight kisses on their cheeks. Before heading back home, I looked to the sky. All was pitch black except Christo, who shone brightly and looked suspended in the sky. (Did I mention that I live really really close to Christo, one of the new 7 wonders of the world? The other day I found the street that goes all the way up to him, that is how close I live to it.) It was one of the most beautiful things I have seen here in Larangeiras (my neighborhood) and I pointed it out and we all gazed at it together.

I got home and said goodnight to my sister and thanked her for taking me.

"Minhas amigas gostam muito de voce." She said, and said that they wanted to see me again.

And so, just mastering the basics like being able to understand a new friend when she gossips about her friend who is dating a manwhore but doesn't know it, is extremely, extremely rewarding.

Well, I am going to go meet my sister at the beach now!

Love,

Madi