Monday, December 31, 2007

Bowl Road Trip Diary Day 3


Ten men. Two vehicles. 3600 miles. Oh yeah, a football game and a hoppin' New Year's Eve party in between car rides. Follow TGOM's Bowl Road Trip Diary from the first mile marker to the last.

Day 3: The Game

Game day had arrived.

On the morning of the Insight Bowl, we roused ourselves around 8 a.m. to prepare for our final IU football game as students. We started the day with double-double burgers at In-N-Out (Nothing like a 10 a.m. hamburger to jump start your day) and headed to the parking lot outside Sun Devil Stadium.

It was apparent from the start that IU fans vastly outnumbered their Oklahoma State counterparts. The parking lot might as well have been the grassy fields across from Memorial Stadium. The Hoosiers were "playing 13," so our goal was to "drink 13." Some of us fared better than others.

By the time kickoff rolled around, we were thoroughly pumped. Our state of excitement dwindled quickly, however, as IU allowed Oklahoma State to score touchdowns on their first five possessions. The Hoosiers looked every bit like a team that hadn't been to a bowl game in over a decade. It felt like the Cowboys were snapping the ball near our goal line on every other play in the first half. Maybe they were.

Pictures to follow, but now it's time to bring in the New Year on Mill Ave.

Sunday, December 30, 2007

Bowl Road Trip Diary Days 1 & 2

Ten men. Two vehicles. 3600 miles. Oh yeah, a football game and a hoppin' New Year's Eve party in between car rides. Follow TGOM's Bowl Road Trip Diary from the first mile marker to the last.

Days 1 & 2: The Draining Drive

The drive was everything we expected it to be: Oftentimes dull, slightly scenic, but mostly just plain long. With ten drivers splitting time between a Pontiac Grand Prix and a Nissan Pathfinder, we clocked in around 27 hours of driving including the time we took to stop and switch drivers every three hours or so and fill up on gas.

Indiana and Illinois supplied the usual eye candy of dead fields and barren trees; St. Louis added a jolt of electric color at night; Oklahoma and Texas passed like a bad dream; New Mexico would never end and Arizona came just in time.

The drive went smooth, however, and the only people that complained were the two stuck in the back of the Pathfinder, a tight fit for the smallest of us. We made it to Tempe around seven o'clock on Sunday and got a nice look at Sun Devil Stadium on the way to the apartment complex where we are crashing (literally).

Tomorrow is the big day. The plan is to rise around 8 a.m. to pick up our tickets, tailgate until the game at 3:30 p.m. and then hit the huge block party nearby until the wee small hours of the morning. If the drive seemed long, tomorrow may drag on to (blissful) infinite. At least I won't have to fret over leg room.

And now before I pass out, here's a little taste of our road trip to Tempe:

The 1800-mile trip began in Avon, Ind. at the quaint quarters of Conor McDermott's rent's house.

The McDermott bathtub is pretty quaint too.

We drew cards to see who would start out in which vehicle and who would drive first.

Whoever drew the Jack drove first. Lucky me.

Chris Marcum shows off his pretty blanket to the boys. He's such a charmer.

Billy Bernard prepares the Red Rider with the Indiana flag. Unfortunately, it fell off somewhere in Oklahoma. We're planning on picking it up on the way back.

Illinois is a really exciting state.

I think this is what the St. Louis skyline must look like to people on LSD.

We stopped to pick up Brad Gessel outside of St. Louis, but he wasn't at his house. We waited until he arrived, but some things just couldn't wait.



Like I said, it was a little cozy in the Pathfinder. Luckily, we quickly adjusted to everyone's bodily odors except Dan's.

Dan Morgenstern cruises ahead at a cautious 72 miles per hour. There were plenty of bears behind those bushes.

Conor dreams about how his very first IU football game will be on Monday. Actually, this is what Conor looked like for most of the trip. The guy can flat out sleep.

Jeff Poteet makes a sick face. Jeff has been under the weather lately, but nothing could stop him from seeing the Hoosiers take on the Cowboys - not even a temperature of 103. A couple of early morning full moons didn't help his condition, however.

The Continental Divide is right over in that direction. Somewhere.

TGOM takes the wheel sporting the finest western hat wear that can no longer fit on his father's head.

Not too many of these geographical formations in the Midwest.

How better to unwind after a grueling trip than at the Library, Tempe's scholarly version of Hooter's?

Matt enjoys a beer at the Library. I think he enjoyed our librarian even more, however.

Some establishment messed up IU's logo in their advertisement. I guess dotting the I's and crossing the U's is secondary at a place where pole dancing is encouraged. If that isn't bulletin board material for Bill Lynch and the Hoosiers then I don't know what is.

Brent Ling, California's own, met up with us in Tempe. Brent flew in before us which explains why he looks sane.

I noticed this street on the drive back to the apartment. Is it a sign of good things to come for IU? The Hoosiers need wide receiver James Hardy to come up big on several drives to win tomorrow.

Thursday, December 27, 2007

IU football memories past and present


OK, the next post will be for real. Tomorrow, I'm meeting up with WIUX's finest, Dan Morgenstern, on the way to Indy. Saturday, we hit the road.

But before we get out the Travel Yahtzee, I asked the guys to come up with a list of football memories - good and bad - we've accumulated over the years. Here's what we came up with in no paticular order.

1. Beating Purdue this year. Watching the students rush the Memorial Stadium field was one of those surreal moments where you barely trust your senses. Is this really happening? In Bloomington? After everything? Couldn't have been scripted any better.

2. Meeting Coach Hep. The man seemed a bit delusional at times (He once referred to the IU football program as a "soaring rocket ship" on live television.), but it was the kind of crazy that made sane people want to forget about silly things like being realistic. Coach Hep turned a bunch of hard Hoosier cynics into mild believers. That in itself is a commendable accomplishment.

I can remember the day IU announced Terry Hoeppner as the new coach and thinking "Who?" Today, I can answer my question with "The greatest thing to happen to IU football since Bill Mallory, that's who."

3. Loss to Penn State in 2004. Another forgettable year in IU football, but this game was particularly painful because of the way the Hoosiers found a way to lose. In the closing minutes of the game, IU had the ball near the goal line down by four with four plays to score the go-ahead touchdown. Two runs up the middle, a failed option right and another pathetic attempt up the middle. Game over. Good one, Gerry.

4. Kellen Lewis saves IU's bacon in Muncie. Down 17-0 in the second quarter against a MAC school with the third-string freshman quarterback taking his first snaps under center? Not the typical formula for victory. Then again, there's not much that is typical about Kellen Lewis. In his Hoosier debut, Lewis led IU to a 24-23 come-from-behind victory, accounting for more than 300 yards of offense and recording his first passing and rushing touchdowns.

A bunch of us made the trip to Muncie for that Sept. 2006 game and braved the rain that soaked the stands in the second half. Lewis' athleticism made a miserable downpour seem like a slight sprinkle.

5. Tailgating mayhem and general debauchery. Some of us awoke like children on Christmas morning on those autumn Saturdays to round everyone up and ensure prime parking position in the tailgating fields. Some of us constructed pinatas of the opposing quarterback to beat on before heading to Memorial Stadium. Some of us misused Wiffle Ball bats. All of us had a good time - at least we look like we are having a good time in the surfacing pictures. Oh, and the highest row of Memorial Stadium is a no-kite flying zone (even if you are wearing your Halloween costume).

6. Unlike baseball, there is crying in football. Everyone has felt it creep up on them at some point this season. Whether it was during the tribute to Coach Hep before the season opener, a dramatic ESPN exclusive with Jane Hoeppner or a sudden mental connection that brought a lump to the throat, everyone has felt the loss of Coach Hep in some way. The man will never be replaced, but his legacy will always inspire us.

7. Loss to Southern Illinois in 2006. This was another low point. The Salukis, a Division I-A program, steamrolled over the Hoosiers 35-28, while we watched from the stands wearing garbage bags beneath ominous skies. One of those days where you question the value of a college education.

8. Wins over Iowa in 2006 and 2007. No team has boosted IU's confidence like Iowa the last two seasons. In 2006, the Hoosiers toppled the No. 15-ranked Hawkeyes 31-28 prompting the "rocket ship" comment from Coach Hep. In 2007, IU spoiled the Hawkeyes' homecoming 38-20 and prompted one of the oddest scoring plays in football history when Kellen Lewis was credited with a 71-yard touchdown pass to...Kellen Lewis. Yeah, he's that good.

(OK, actually he recovered a fumble off of a passing play and took it to the house. The box score, however, makes Lewis look mythic.)

9. Gerry gets a road win in 2004. IU's win against No. 25 Oregon in 2004 was a fluke, we will be the first to admit that, but it was a memorable fluke. On that night, we watched the game from City Grille, DiNardo looked like a competent coach with a 2-0 team and I devoured the hottest wings on the menu. Since then, City Grille has gone out of business and Gerry has moved from the sideline to the TV studio. My stomach, however, is still recovering from those wings.

10. The first down march. It's a good workout. Plus, football is a lot more fun when your team gets first downs.

Monday, December 24, 2007

On the Tempe trail


What's a road trip without a few random stops?

Jeff Poteet, TGOM's roommate first class, took the time to plot out several possible escapes from the long and winding road. Here's a link detailing our cross-country route with each letter corresponding to the following sites:

A. MONUMENT CIRCLE (Indianapolis, Ind.) - Well, we have to start somewhere. After rounding Indy's venerated loop, we'll make a beeline for Interstate 70.

B. World's Largest Cross (Effingham, Ill.) - It wouldn't be a bad idea to stop at the giant cross at the intersection of Interstates 57 and 70 about 150 miles into our trip. We could say a prayer for a safe trip, appeal to The Big Guy on the Hoosiers' behalf or give a shout out to Coach Hep. It took a few miraculous plays to get IU to Tempe, might as well recognize the greatest of all the miracle workers.

C. Giant Catsup Bottle Water Tower (Collinsville, Ill.) - Only in America can you find a mammoth condiment dispenser stretching 170 feet into the air. As someone who has been subjected to countless ketchup jokes due to a certain ketchup manufacturer beginning with the letter "H," I may just cringe at the sight of this tomato monstrosity. And can we please settle this catsup vs. ketchup discrepancy? There isn't mustard and mosterd.

D. St. Louis Arc (St. Louis, MO) - Hopefully we catch a glimpse of the famous arc as we stop in St. Louis to pick up our common sensically-challenged friend Brad. Brad won our fantasy football regular season title this year. He also once told a girl that her best feature was her arms. I'm afraid to speculate about what that says about our fantasy football prowess.

E. "Gateway to the Ozarks" (Cuba, MO) - No dictators, no missile crises, just a self-proclaimed "growing and prosperous community... within minutes of activities the whole family can enjoy." I think the next slogan should read Cuba, Missouri: Just minutes from enjoyment.

F. Big Fork (Springfield, MO) - Every memorable road trip has a critical fork in the road. Our fork could come quite literally in Springfield -- and provide a perfect photo opportunity!

G. Will Rogers Memorial Museum (Claremore, Okla.) - 600 miles into our trip may be the perfect time to pay homage to one of America's greatest entertainers. After being trapped inside a vehicle with one another for hours, we all may need a laugh by this point anyway.

H. Oklahoma City National Memorial (Oklahoma City, Okla.) - Most of us were too young to understand the full significance of the bombing that occurred in Oklahoma City in the spring of 1995, but we could always use a reminder about the destructive force of violence in this world and the role we all play in making sure such acts never occur.

I. The Leaning Water Tower and another large cross (Groom, Texas) - You can't pack enough odd water towers and giant crucifixes in one road trip.

J. Big Texan Steak Ranch and Cadillac Ranch (Amarillo, Texas) - After devouring a 72 oz. steak at the famous Big Texan Steak Ranch (between the entire group, of course), we'll spray paint a "Go Hoosiers" on the partially buried and fully vandalized Cadillacs of Cadillac Ranch before continuing to Tempe.

K. Ernie Pyle's House and Library (Albuquerque, NM) - Visiting the home of the well-known war correspondent and heroic Hoosier would be a great way to stir up some IU pride. I've spent enough time in Ernie Pyle Hall on campus to understand the significant contributions Pyle made to American journalism.

L. Continental Divide (Thoreau, NM) - So if the rainwater hits this side of the mountain it flows to the Pacific, and if it hits that sound of the mountain it flows to the Atlantic. Who knew?

M. Wigwam motels (Holbrook, AZ) - The true reason we are making this trip is to sleep in a wigwam.

N. Meteor crater (Winslow, AZ) - Before Coach Hep gave IU its Rock, the extraterrestials sent Earth theirs.

O. Heart Attack Grill (Phoenix, AZ) - Our pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? The Double Bypass Burger.

P. SUN DEVIL STADIUM (Tempe, AZ) - Behold the promised land.

Monday, December 10, 2007

Coming Soon: Bowl Road Trip Diary


Ten men. Two vehicles. 3600 miles of road. The figurative culmination of 4 years of randomness, outrageousness and athletic devotion.

After enduring three seasons of heartbreaking IU football, 10 IU seniors (including TGOM's finest) will traverse this expansive nation to witness the greatest accomplishment by an IU team in 14 years: a bowl berth.

On Dec. 31, the Indiana Hoosiers will take on the Oklahoma State Cowboys in the Insight Bowl in Tempe, Ariz. I, along with nine other comrades - many of whom I've known my entire college career - will be there to cheer the Hoosiers on - because who knows if IU will ever make it to a bowl again before we are middle-aged, balding and irritable.

We witnessed DiNardo's final year (at least when we weren't covering our eyes). We embraced Coach Hep. We saw Kellen Lewis enter the game against Ball State as an unknown freshman and found hope. We felt concerned when Coach Hep left the sidelines, and we cried when he left this earth before any of us were prepared. But now the Hoosiers are playing thirteen. Now we have a team to rally around. Now we finally get to celebrate.

Austin Starr's field goal to bring the Old Oaken Bucket back to Bloomington and give IU it's first winning season since Saturday morning cartoons were the highlight of our week sparked a gridiron celebration unlike anything we could have imagined as scrawny freshmen. That was before The Rock was The Rock, before Coach Hep wanted us, before James Hardy became a man.

For us fellas, it's been a wild ride with plenty of highs and lows, but we're glad we stuck it out. We're glad we drug our asses across the tailgating fields into Memorial Stadium on those autumn Saturdays. We're glad we will be bringing in the New Year under a desert sky.

Our trip officially begins on Dec. 28 in Indianapolis and ends on Jan. 3. TGOM will be blogging the whole thing, right down to the 3 a.m. rest stop in Scalphead, Okla.

Plenty of incriminating pictures, recollections - maybe even videos - to follow. Until then, Go Hoosiers!

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Transition blog


Question: What kind of stuff is posted on a travel blog after the trip is over?


Answer: Whatever I want.


My brazilian experience may be stuck on To Be Continued, but my life is far from being on hold. Currently, I am sweating through a semester of journalism ethics, magazine writing and Portuguese Literature while working late nights as the sports editor of the Indiana Daily Student. I also get to be the men's basketball team's biggest fan and critic as an IU columnist.


My mind is consumed with deadlines but far from dead. Case in point, below is a little self-narrative I wrote as part of my application for a feature writing contest. Sometimes it's important to remind yourself why you're putting yourself through hell in the first place.




I've always been a reader -- even before I could read by myself. As a child, I would ask my parents to read to me at every opportunity. I could never settle for one book, of course, so inevitably a stack of illustrated tales would end up at the feet of the nearest literate person with me anxiously awaiting to begin. Even today, few things are more exciting to me than opening to the first page of a new book.
In addition to reading, I've always loved sports. Well, not always. But ever since that day in the schoolyard when I discovered catching a football could lead to making a new friend, sports have been my thing. They help me relate to other people and, in turn, to myself. At an early age, however, it became evident that my athletic aptitude was far inferior to my skill with words. So when a relative gave me a book entitled The Best American Sports Writing of the Century which combined two of my passions in an articulate and inspiring way, I discovered a new goal in my life: to make it into the 21st century edition of that book.
It's a rather lofty goal. Even the best sports writers of the past century needed a little luck to land a spot in the 816-page collection. I'm still looking for my big break.
As a journalism major at Indiana University and a staff member at the Indiana Daily Student, I have covered IU athletics as a columnist and a reporter since 2005. Currently, I am one of the sports editors at the IDS. The experience has been challenging and rewarding at the same time. Earlier this year, I was awarded a national sports journalism scholarship by the NCAA partially based on my work as the IU sports columnist in the fall of 2006. It was quite an honor.
At IU, I've had the pleasure of covering a variety of sports from field hockey to men’s basketball. It’s the interaction with coaches and players as well as the response from readers that have made the experience memorable.
Sports are just a gateway, however. The more I write about them, the more certain I become that I am not writing about sports at all. I'm writing about people, and -- through people -- I am writing about life. The best of the sports pages -- or any page, really -- tells tales of defeat and triumph, mystery and discovery, guilt and love. In this way, the stories I write today aren't that much different from the ones I adored as a child.
These stories are everywhere; they are the product of life being lived. As a journalist, I've taken it upon myself to seek them.

Saturday, September 15, 2007

Reflections on a past life

As of this post, I have been back in the United States for nearly two months. It might as well be two decades.

It's interesting to note the way humans adapt to their environment so effectively out of necessity and the need for social interaction. I smile (and occasionally laugh out loud) thinking of some of the uncharacteristic experiences I had in Brazil - experiences I will be hard-pressed to replicate anywhere else in the world. (Sigh...)

Hopefully, I'll get to visit other places in the world someday. Maybe I'll even get a chance to return to Brazil. The future is full of possibility.

The following is an essay I wrote for the Hutton Honors College International Experience Grant I received before studying abroad. Thanks to the generosity of Edward L. Hutton, thousands of IU students like me don't have to dig quite so deep into our parents' pockets to make a dream come true.

My group of twenty-five American students walk off our private bus onto an unfamiliar street 40 minutes outside the center of São Paulo, the most populous urban habitat in the southern hemisphere. Our driver has taken us west across the polluted river towards the poorer periphery of the metropolitan giant. He navigated the shifting, tangled web of traffic and infrastructure as if possessing a sixth sense as we chatted expectantly in the back of the vehicle. Though we are all accomplished college students, field trips still excite us.

As we cross the street and pass through a gated entryway, I can’t help but notice the disheveled look of the place. The building is ugly. All concrete and chipped paint. Hardly an optimum environment for learning. I am about to tour a public school in Brazil.

The principal comes to greet us outside the main door. She smiles as she addresses us gringos, sharing with us information about the school – the number of students enrolled, the shoestring operating budget, the night classes offered to those who work during the day. She is proud of her school’s role in the neighboring community.

We enter through a small common room and into a courtyard. Two young boys, seemingly on their own, stand by a pile of rocks and rumble. They stop what they are doing to watch curiously as our group observes the area. The expressions on their faces grow especially animated when they see me.

I see a covered gym area where kids are playing with balls of various shapes and sizes. We move on. I sit in a stuffy one-room library with the world map that needs updated. We hear about the children’s book program being implemented by the government. There’s more to see. I smile awkwardly in front of a class of dark-haired adolescents that smile awkwardly back from their desks. It’s difficult to determine who is studying who more intensely. We view the new computer lab with the government-funded machines and drab walls. Some of us are impressed – considering the circumstances.

We see it all in less than an hour. As my group readies itself to leave, I stand patiently in the common room we entered from the main door. It appears to be a cafeteria right now. Bright-eyed children carrying bowls of rice and beans partake around me. Some sit and eat. Others stand. I can feel their stares lingering on me, crawling up my long frame. It’s as if I am the only foreigner in the room. They have never seen anything like me before.

The small one addresses me. Asks me a question. I stoop down and tilt my head towards his voice, carefully weighing every word. “How tall are you?” he asks.

“One-hundred and ninety-five centimeters,” I reply. It’s a question I’ve been asked before. The boy continues to gawk openly. A few of his classmates join him.

“Do you play basketball?” one asks.

“Of course,” I say, not voluntarily elaborating beyond a basic confirmation.

Now the dam has been breached. I’m surrounded on all sides as more children press closer. They want to get a good look at me – take in my staggering height, my light-colored hair, my clown-size feet. Where are you from? What is your name? What size are your shoes?

The imperative questions travel through the air towards the ceiling, towards my face. I look intently at each questioner, making sure to pronounce my words clearly. One boy tells me he plays basketball too. Another tells me he has heard of the United States, but has never visited. One courageous girl races up to me and places her foot next to mine before quickly sprinting away in laughter like she had just touched a hot burner and escaped the consequences.

Someone tells me it is time to leave. I wade through a sea of rambunctious midgets to get to the door, saying my goodbyes. Taking one last glance through the slotted metal doors, I can still see the curious faces looking back. A final thought passes between my ears as I walk away: Maybe this building isn’t so ugly afterall.




Sunday, July 15, 2007

The long and winding road

Backpacking in Argentina has been an exhausting experience, but it has also been a blast!

I spent three days near the Andes mountains in Mendoza in central Argentina and three days among the dry, rocky terrain of Salta in northern Argentina. I rode three buses for a combined 48 hours and met people from all corners of the world. I saw the white-tipped peaks of the Andes and the pastel colors of the rocks in Salta. I drank fine wines and tasted fatty meats. I peered into the eery pools of salt flats and got lost in a maze of Incan ruins. I climbed into canyons and parasailed above cliffs. I survived entire days on a diet of cookies. I took chances and made mistakes, but I learned a little more about this crazy world - and that made it all worthwhile.

I'm tired. I'm weary. I'm ready to go home.

So that's just what I'll do.

Wednesday, July 4, 2007

International day-tripper


I took a day trip to Uruguay the other day. I get a kick out of typing that sentence. Growing up in Indiana, the only feasible day trip to another country is Kentucky - and that really isn't worth the gas money.


Uruguay is my fourth South American country to have visited for those of you keeping track at home. Barring any dramatic turn of events, my country-counter will be at four when I return to the United States.


To get to Colonia del Sacramento, a small Uruguayan historical town, I took a ferry from a nearby port across Rio de la Plata, the largest estuary in the world. An estuary is a place where one or more rivers meet before hitting the ocean. Looking out across Rio de la Plata, you'd think it was the ocean. The ferry that I took was really nice inside with a cushiony seats, TV, concessions - even a small store. It took 45 minutes of comfortable water-churning to make it to Colonia from Buenos Aires.


Colonia used to be a major point of contention between the Spanish and the Portuguese, strategically located outside the joining of the Parana and Uruguay River. It was conquered and re-conquered several times in its history. Seeing that the common language in Uruguay is Spanish, I guess it's not hard to guess who won in the end.


It's the dead of winter here, so the tourists aren't exactly flocking to the port city these days. It was pretty much me and a few American tourists wondering why they were wearing sweaters and jackets in July. The historical section reminded me a lot of Paraty, the other historical Portuguese port I had visited in Brazil last January. I guess if you have seen one colonial port, you´ve seen them all. We can now add old Portuguese ports to a list that includes Wal-Marts, wax museums and civil war battle fields.


I am traveling solo these days, so the highlights of Colonia del Sacramento were marveling at the breadth of Rio de la Plata atop the lighthouse and serenading a stray cat and a sea dog at the end of the pier. They were a very attentive audience.


It was a grey and blustery day, so I took the ferry back in the afternoon.


Uruguay seems like a much more relaxed place than Brazil or Argentina, although its currency makes me uneasy. The Uruguayan peso is something like 22 to the dollar and most things cost in the hundreds of pesos. It's hard to decide what to order for lunch when you see that it is going to cost you in the hundreds. With all the large numbers floating aroung in that country, I wished I would have brought a calculator.


One of the things about taking an international ferry is that you have to go through customs before and after the trip. Customs is always an adventure for me - especially since my passport was accidently washed in the washing machine. It looks like an historical document with its worn cover, smudged ink and creased pages. I like to say that it has character.


Customs officials do not seem to appreciate my colorful passport, and with all the random slips of paper they hand you during these trips (boarding passes, receipts, entry/exit cards, etc.), it can get a little confusing. It seems like I spent half my day figuring out paperwork.


In the end though, I'm glad I made the trip. Not even Kentucky has a lighthouse.

Monday, July 2, 2007

As different as their dance


I boarded my plane for Buenos Aires ten minutes after it was supposed to depart. Sometimes, you've gotta love Brazilian airlines. I knew I was leaving Sao Paulo for an entirely different city in South America, but how different, I had no idea.

After three days in the capital of Argentina, I can tell you that the cities are as different as the tango and the samba.

Buenos Aires used to be considered the New York City of South America about 100 years ago, the financial and cultural capital of the continent. Of course, today the financial hub of South America is Sao Paulo, but Buenos Aires still packs a cultural punch.

I spent my first day in the city taking a first-class, personal tour of the area courtesy of a couple of American friends. It was a great way to learn about the history and the variety of BA. From the beginning it was apparent that Buenos Aires is different than any Brazilian city I've visited. The streets meet at clean, 90-degree angles, you don't feel like your suffocating in concrete and it's really not necessary to look over your shoulder every couple minutes to make sure you're not being followed.

On my tour, I got to see the variety in architecture that exists and learned oodles about the neighborhoods. I saw the colored houses of La Boca, the renovated industrial buildings near the river, which now offer restaurants like Hooters, and the granite mosques of the wealthy in La cemeterio de la Recoleta where the body of Evita Peron rests. I am staying in an apartment in the neighborhood of San Telmo, an historical area which used to house the city's wealthy before an outbreak of yellow fever in the mid-19th century. The architecture in San Telmo is supposedly Spanish, and the neighborhood is currently undergoing a revitalization process. At different points, I've heard parts of Buenos Aires compared to Paris, New York and New Orleans. All I know is that it definitely isn't Sao Paulo.

Even the people are classy. At one point during my tour, the money pouch that I had strapped around my waist beneath my sweatshirt fell off onto the ground. Before I had even noticed its absence, a man had picked it up, looked at the name on the debit card and was looking for the owner. I had my only way of withdrawing money and 100 pesos in that thing and found it before I even knew it was lost! Had I lost my debit card and cash in Brazil, I am 99.9% sure I would not have got it back.

We made some stops at historical cafes, nice restaurants and extravagant churches. I drank the richest cup of hot chocolate in my life at Cafe Tortoni, a cafe famous for having regulars such as the author Luis Borges. I got a better taste of Argentine beef on Friday and Saturday. (I think the beef I had on Argentina's side of Iguacu is why I was running to the bathroom that night.) I also visited an art museum and toured an old navy ship that was active around the turn of the 20th century. On Saturday night, I had my cheapest night/morning out abroad at an Irish pub/club. Argentines likes to go out late as in early-late. I made sure to take a nap beforehand.

The exchange rate here is much more favorable than in Brazil. The peso is around three to the dollar, and food and public transportation seems dirt cheap. Argentines seem much better educated than Brazilians as a society. I heard the average Argentine reads more than seven books a year. That is several times more than the average Brazilian. Instead of focusing on the body like Brazilians, Argentines prefer to obsess over the mind. The psychiatrist replaces Brazil's plastic surgeon as the glamor profession. It's common for the residents of Buenos Aires to visit their psychiatrist regularly to improve their mental and emotional health. To me, this seems nuts.

Another noticable difference between Sao Paulo and Buenos Aires is the racial makeup. People appear far more homogeneous here than in Sao Paulo, although the blue eye/blond hair combo is just as uncommon. I no longer see the Asian and African characteristics that are common a country away.

Although Portuguese and Spanish are very similar, there are enough differences to make communication a challenge at times. Pronunciation is completely different. Luckily, a lot more tourists frequent Buenos Aires and many people speak English.

The weather is a tad chilly, hovering around 50 degrees during the day and 40 degrees at night. Makes me wish I'd packed a few more long-sleeved shirts and a few less pairs of shorts, but I'll survive.

On July 5th, I'll be traveling west towards the Andes mountains to the wine country of Mendoza. Then, I plan on going north to Salta, where the dry climate and low pressure create a unique climate.

It will be my first time outside of urban life since April. Definitely gonna soak it up.

Thursday, June 28, 2007

Beijos and abraços


Today is my last day in Brazil. I am getting on a plane this afternoon and flying to Argentina.



I've spent the last week saying goodbye to the friends that I have made during my six months here and finishing up final papers for classes. I just finished the longest paper of my life yesterday - in another language. Regardless of the quality of my paper, I consider that an accomplishment.



I think my grades will turn out pretty good during my semester at PUC thanks to my professor's gringo grading scale. It's much more forgiving than the normal grading scale and the more gringo you look, the more forgiving it is (and you can't look much more gringo than me).



It will be strange visiting another country and another culture after living in São Paulo for the last six months, but I am looking forward to it. Buenos Aires is South America´s version of a european city, and I hear that it is a lot more aesthetically pleasing than São Paulo. Of course, that wouldn't take much.



I'm leaving behind a lot of memories here. Just for fun, here are five experiences that were absolutely unforgettable:



1. Hang gliding in Rio. I had never been hang gliding before - let alone hang gliding in one of the most naturally beautiful cities in the world. I had the beach, the forest and the city all from a bird's eye view for an amazing 15-minute ride. Sure it was overly touristy and set me back a pretty penny, but I would do it again in a heartbeat.



2. Foz de Iguaçu. Just an amazing natural wonder. I cannot overstate the beauty of over 200 waterfalls side-by-side, including Garganta del diablo, which makes Niagra look like child's play. Standing at the mouth of Garganta felt like the whole world was being sucked down the drain. Now that's the power of nature.



3.JUCA. Definitely my most amazing weekend with Brazilians. Sports at all hours of the day. Beer at all hours of the day. Randomness at all hours of the day. Almost like being back in Bloomington. JUCA was supposed to be my opportunity to play basketball in this basketly-challenged country, instead, it turned out to be my time to be the token gringo. Eh, you win some, you lose some.



4. Seeing Protestors against the red, white and blue. When President Bush visited in March, there were some people who were not happy and took to the streets to prove it. It was a very interesting experience to see a bunch of people trashing the flag of your country and depicting your country's leader in a negative light. (Although the latter part you can get at home.) I think it really speaks to the prominence of the United States and the responsibility we have as a global leader.



5.Meeting people from all over the US. Not only did I get to chill with Brazilians here in São Paulo, but I also became friends with people from coast to coast back home. It was really interesting to see and debate about the cultural differences that exist right in my own backyard. Of course, I defended Indiana at every opportunity. Our highways rock.

Friday, June 15, 2007

JUCA and my last trip


Wow, my last month here is really flying!


If you'd like to read about my amazing weekend at JUCA with the cachorros loucos, click here. It was a very unique experience being the only gringo among a bunch of wild and crazy brazilians, and I doubt I will ever hear my name chanted again repeatedly like it was at JUCA.


Only thirteen more days in São Paulo. The 28th of this month marks my sixth in this country. To commerate this grand achievement of surviving outside one's country of origin for half a year my Brazilian travel visa will be expiring, and I will be getting on a plane for Buenos Aires.


I'm looking forward to exploring Argentina for about three weeks before returning to the United States. It will be fun to see another part of South America with a very different culture, and who knows if I will ever get another chance to revisit this continent.


For now, it is final papers and assignments.


Oh, and soccer. Soccer game tomorrow. But that's a given.
UPDATE: The soccer game between Corinthians and Parana was another scoreless thriller. If you're keeping track at home, that means I've been to three soccer games in São Paulo and witnessed one measely goal! What a sport, huh? I think soccer is the only sport where the fans cheer for narrow misses. Which is kind of like congratulating Charlie Brown for almost kicking the football. Good grief!

Saturday, June 2, 2007

The end is near


Now that June has arrived, I can say that I am in the homestretch of my abroad experience. This month will be my last outside of North America for awhile. Anything that I had planned on doing in Brazil and haven't done yet better be accomplished in the next 30 days or so.


Actually, I don't really have too many unfulfilled wishes left. And now that the weather has turned for the worse (cold and rainy today), I am actually looking forward to a little midwestern sun in the states - but not before going on one last trip-to-be-named-later.


This week I felt as if I was starting to get a better understanding of the culture here in Brazil and some of the problems and contradictions that arise from this culture. Many people have predicted that Brazil will be a world power someday, but I can say with confidence that it will not happen in my lifetime.


If this nation is ever to become a world power, it will be completely unrecognizable from the society that resides here today. Too few businesses and politicians are held unaccountable in today's Brazil, and many of the interests of the common man are neglected. Despite being one of the world's leaders in agriculture and possessing ample resources, millions of people go hungry every day in this country. This is only one of many discrepancies that exist here.


For now, I am attempting to make it through my last month with three pairs of long pants, two sweatshirts and a light jacket. I've parted ways with the tropical paradise of January and February. It's a mental struggle to peel off the warm comforter every morning with the cooler air circulating the house.


Next week, I will be participating in a college sporting extravaganza for the communications schools of São Paulo called JUCA. Basically, a bunch of college students take over a small town outside of the city for four days and play sports, have parties and sleep on uncomfortable mats. I will be playing basketball for PUC and carrying the albatross of being the only American on the court. I will do my best to carry on the tradition of excellence created by exported American basketball players, but there's a reason we play overseas and not in our country of origin.


Wednesday, May 16, 2007

To business


I finally began my final research project today after two and a half months of procrastinating, err, brainstorming. It will eventually become a ten-page paper in Portuguese. I don't think I've written more than a five-page paper in college. Good thing I'm getting a headstart.

Doing any kind of academic work in Brazil is at least 10 times harder than in the US. Internet access is much harder to come by, and printing documents can be a slow and expensive process. All my assignments at PUC can be turned in handwritten. It's not even an issue. Obtaining copies of old newspaper articles, however, has proved trickier than I thought.


For my research paper on Brazilian athletes, I have to go to the Arquivo de Estado, a large, blockish building located on the north-side of São Paulo. I am analyzing sports articles that appeared in old newspapers, so I have to know the exact dates of the newspapers I want to see. Once I submit my requests (limited to three at a time), I sit and wait at a desk in a sterile, white room with other researchers and a couple security people to make sure no one steals/destroys any documents.


I wear rubber gloves when dissecting the stack of yellowing newspapers that arrive at my table and take care not to allow my elbows to rest on the table. This is forbidden. When I find an article of which I would like a copy, I place a white marker inbetween the pages and write the issue and page number down. When I'm finished with everything, I return the old newspapers in their binder and submit the articles I would like copied.


After I leave, the arquive people make microfilm copies of the pages I requested, transfer the images into JPEGs and put the JPEGs on a CD. Then they mail me the CD. I should receive my articles in a digital format in roughly two weeks.


If this process seems entirely drawn-out and complicated, that's because it is. In fact, if I were to try and invent a way to make something simple, like getting a copy of a previously published article, into something difficult, it would fall far short of the above-mentioned process.


This is one of the challenges of conducting research in a developing country. It's also why most of the leading academic people of Brazil work for universities and colleges in the United States - because in my country we have splendid devices called scanners!


Monday, May 14, 2007

Just when I was beginning to grow fond of the little guy...


He is gone.

Pope Benedict XVI hopped on a jet plane in Aparecida yesterday and made a bee line for the Vatican. For being 80 years-old, the man gets around like no other.

During his four and a half day excursion in Brazil, Pope Benedict brought the house down in a packed stadium of 40,000 youth with that creepy smile of his, canonized the first Brazilian saint (We knew you had it in you friar Antonio.) and slammed the media for being immoral (Yeah, he was probably talking about your favorite TV show.). The guy was like a rock star with better hygiene.

Still, Catholicism in this country is not what it used to be. The percentage of people who say they are Catholic in Brazil has declined nearly 20 percent in the last 25 years. And it ain't getting better anytime soon.

With God's permission (Thanks Big Guy.), I decided to grade Pope Benedict on his visit to Brazil - just for the heck of it.

Security - A+

I may not have laid eyes on the big papa, but I did see plenty of his bodyguards. Outside of the thousands of the policia militar, the Pope is protected by the Swiss Guard and helicopters follow him wherever he goes. I bet his personal assistant knows Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu too.

Transportation - A

Like I said, the guy gets around like no other. Of course, having those thousands of policemen clear the streets for you kind of helps. A quirky thing about the Pope is the papamovel or popemobile in which he travels around. It has a bullet-proof carriage in the back where the Pope can sit and wave to the crowd as he passes by. There's also the helicopters and personal jet. I wonder what opera music he enjoyed on his return flight.

Message - C

Don't do drugs. Don't have sex outside of marriage. And the E! channel is the devil. Have you been talking to my mother, papa? Oh, and something about finding fulfillment through the Church. No, he said some good things. And he said them in good Portuguese. Just for that I'm tacking on a + to that C.

Popularity - B

It's tough following in the footsteps of a legend like John Paul II, so I'll take it easy on him in this respect. Still, about half the number of people came to mass in Campo de Marte this year than in 1980 when John Paully Be Good presided. Then again, 800,000 ain't bad. And it was kind of cold outside.

Public Persona - B+

He looks pretty good for going through eight decades of life. He still has a twinkle in his eye and that sly grin. I was actually disappointed when I heard him speak on TV. He didn't sound anything like the emperor in Star Wars like I had hoped.

Overall - B+

The Pope coming to Brazil was quite a phenomenom to witness. Catholics from all over Latin America (and beyond) flock to see this guy. But I don't see any mass conversions taking place because of this visit. A lot of changes on both sides need to take place before Catholicism makes a rebound in this world.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

Papa-mania


He is here.

Pope Benedict XVI arrived in São Paulo yesterday afternoon. He stepped out of the plane to see gray skys and spittles of rain. The temperature was a very unwelcoming 10 degrees Celsius. He flew by private jet from Italy earlier in the morning and listened to opera musica while sipping orange juice en route to São Paulo.

Today the Pope is meeting with President Lula and will address the youth of the church at o estádio do Pacaembu. No word yet on whether the Pope found his breakfast agreeable or not. Stay tuned.

The amount of coverage dedicated to the Pope's visit this week is bordering on insane right now, and rightly so because people go crazy for this guy. According to one report, people began congregating at five in the morning today outside the monastery of São Bento where the Pope slept last night hoping to catch a glimpse of his holiness.

I'm not sure if there is a word for people who awake in the wee small hours of the morning to peak in on 80 year-old men, but allow me to suggest one: Popaphiles.

The traffic has been ungodly today and three of my classes have been canceled because of Benedict's visit. It's like another holiday.

Yesterday, I tried to get a slice of Papa-pie for myself, waiting outside of São Bento for an hour and an half in the cold. Published reports said the Pope would be arriving at 6:45 in the evening. The helicopters hovered above, the police were out in full force and a good crowd had gathered outside the monastary. The TV crews were firmly entrenched, and I saw the flags of Argentina and Chile in the crowd along with a giant-size version of Nossa Senhora Aparecida. There was even a small balcony with a bullet-proof bubble for the Pope to gaze off.

"Queremos ver o papa!" (We want to see the Pope!) was the cheer of choice along with sporadic bouts of singing, but o papa never appeared.

I left at 8:00 cold, hungry and Pope-less.

Many of the Brazilians I have talked to said they prefered John Paul II over the current Pope, but you wouldn't know this guy had detractors by attending the rallies. His visit is obviously meaningful to many people here, but I'm not even sure if the people who stood outside in the cold at 5 AM could tell you why.

But they might be able to tell you what the Pope had for breakfast.

UPDATE: I watched most of the Pope's youth gathering on TV and was actually pretty impressed. 35,000 jovens from all over Latin America were in attendance to address concerns such as the lack of jobs for college graduates, child slavery, prostitution and the environment. I haven't seen much evidence of empowered youth in this country, so it was an encouraging event.

The division between church and state can get a little hazy in countries that are predominantly Catholic. That makes changing the world a bit more confusing on this level.

Friday, May 4, 2007

Baby, it's cold outside


Things have been real chill as of late.

Not just as in I-haven't-done-anything-worth-mentioning chill, but also as in it's-starting-to-cool-down-around-here chill. That's right folks, the Earth's axis is tilting to my dissastisfaction. The sweatshirt has joined the umbrella on the list of Things I should take with me when leaving the house but don't.


With the weather going to crap here and things warming up back home, I've been going through a bit of a Hooser-nostalgia phase. The "moonlight on the Wabash" and all that junk. Then I realize I've never even seen the Wabash at night. I've got two more months to rock out in Brazil.


Today, I had my first in-class test of the semester at PUC. It was also the first test in my 16-year history of test-taking where I felt the urge to leave a disclaimer note at the bottom:


Dear Professor,


Excuse my poor grammar and rudimentary analysis. I have yet to understand a single joke that you've told this semester.
Sincerely,
Your beloved class gringo


It went something like that.


I actually felt pretty proud of myself after handing the test in. English is a walk in the park compared to this Portuguese thing.


To break up the monotony of "fall" in São Paulo, Sampa will be hosting Pope Benedict XVI next week. That's right, that means the US President and the Pope will have visited São Paulo within two months of each other. It's just the city to visit these days.
What happens when the leader of the Catholic church comes to visit the most Catholic nation in the world? In the words of Terrence Man, "People will come, Ray. People will most definitely come."
In the millions. Once again, I will be on the outside looking in.





Monday, April 23, 2007

A soggy Santos soccer game


Rain hits hard and without warning in this city. A sunny day can quickly shift to ominous clouds of lightning in a matter of minutes. As I discovered yesterday afternoon, being unprepared for such transformations will get the contents of your pockets all soggy.


I took the bus with a friend to Morumbi, a part of town I have never visited by bus, to see Santos take on Bragantino in the semifinals of Campeonato Paulista - that's soccer, folks. Well, as sometimes happens in huge cities with confusing roads, the bus turned out not to go the way we wanted to go, so we had to get off and take another bus back to an earlier stop and figure out how to get to this game. And, of course, the sky is getting darker all the while.
At one point, I foresaw the future. It depicted my friend and I huddled under a bus stop in the pouring rain in an unfamiliar part of São Paulo. Five minutes later, the future had arrived. Luckily, we hailed a cab after running through the rain for a good minute or two and were able to make the game before the opening kickoff. (I guess it's more of a tapoff in soccer, but I just like the idea of opening kickoffs.)

The rain was really strong at the start of the game. I had purchased a poncho before entering the stadium even though I was already soaked. Our seats happened to be on the second-level of the stadium under an awning, but the poncho still came in handy to keep me from becoming hypothermic.

The first half of the match was not pretty as the ball slowed in a puddle of water the minute it hit the turf. It wasn't much different then playing soccer with a checkered rock. One quirky thing about Morumbi's stadium is that the rain water is drained into the stadium through little pipes. Small streams of water flowed from above all around the stadium for the first half until the rain subsided. If a soccer stadium could somehow be built among the Iguaçu Falls, it would feel something like that.

Things picked up a bit in the second half, and the Santos fans really got into it as a win or tie would propel their team to the championship game. In my opinion, Santos got outplayed in the second half, but managed to hold on for a 0-0 tie. I don't even want to think about how the thousands of Santos-faithful would have reacted had their team lost. There is nothing worse than a mass of disappointed, angry soccer fans. Nothing.

I had a couple of notable experiences last week that deserve mentioning. Saturday, I visited a fazenda of the Landless Workers Movement, known here as Movimento dos Trabalhadores Rurais Sem Terra or MST. The Landless Workers Movement is the largest social movement in Latin America with well over a million members.

The main objective of MST is land reform in a country were less than 2% of the population owns nearly half of all the fertile land. The movement started in the mid-80s and has grown tremendously over the last 30 years. The way MST works is the group first identifies a piece of land that is not being used, then they occupy it, then they gain the property rights to the land. This chain of events has been upheld in the courts in many instances due to Article 5 in Brazil's constitution which states that land which remains unproductive should be used for a "larger social function." (wikipedia)

The farm that I visited was located about an hour north of São Paulo in a town called Sumaré. The movement had seized the property over 20 years ago and the fields seemed maintained and orderly. We took a stroll through the banana fields and got a peak inside one of the houses on the property. We were led by one of the leaders and original founders of the farm whose beliefs in the success of MST were tied closely to his beliefs in Christianity. The house that we viewed had running water, electricity, hard-tile floors. We were served lunch in a school hall-like building where chickens were kept in the back and a few kids played soccer out front on a sandy field. It seemed like a productive, peaceful community. A thousand times safer than a favela where many of the people involved in MST would probably end up if not for the movement.

Obviously, what this group does is controversial and considered criminal by some, but I find it hard to condemn the people that I encountered last weekend for wanting to have a better, simple life in a country where everything belongs to the few at the expense of the many. Our guide claimed that MST is not a political movement, but there has been evidence that contradicts that belief. Still, I think extreme political beliefs are oftentimes the product of extreme circumstances. How else are these people supposed to make their livelihood?

The second notable experience I had last week was shocking, unpleasant and thankfully over before I could fully process it. I was stopped by a policeman with a drawn weapon as I was making the short walk from my house to the metro around nine o'clock at night. The policeman ordered me to put my hands behind my head and gave me a quick pat down while asking me where I lived and where I was from. Since I was obviously foreign he let me go, but the situation was certainly confusing and frightening.

I had obviously walked into a developing situation. I had passed a suspicious figure hiding behind a tree not far from where I was stopped by the police, so being stopped by the cops wasn't entirely unfounded. The Policia Federal have a reputation for shooting first and asking questions later. It's not much better than being stopped by a criminal. I guess in some way, my foreignness became an advantage for me in that situation.
On a lighter note, I cannot believe that the month of May is just around the corner. My 21st birthday will be next month, and my family has offered to put on a churrasca for the occassion. That means, good food, live music, lots of friends and I'm sure a beer or two will work its way between those three.



Monday, April 16, 2007

There's just something about Mary


Yesterday, I visited a town two hours north of São Paulo called Aparecida and commonly referred to as Aparecida do Norte. Today is a very important day for the people in that town and all Catholics in Brazil as it is the Festa de São Benedito or Saint Benedict's Party. That's right, the saints know how to get down in this country.


The town of 40,000 will swell to over 100,000 today as people arrive from all over Latin America to pay homage to Saint Benedict and Nossa Senhora de Conceição Aparecida (Our Lady of the Conception who Appeared). The story of Aparecida is unique in that the entire community is built around the tourism generated by Nossa Senhora Aparecida - a small statue of the Virgin Mary.


As the story goes:



In 1717, three fishermen were sent out by the local authorities to find fish in the Paraíba River. They went down the river and found nothing. After many unsuccessful attempts they arrived at a place called Porto Itaguaçu. João Alves threw his net into the water and brought back a statue of Our Lady of Conception, but the head was missing. He threw his net in again and soon reeled in the head of the statue. After that, according to the legend, the fish arrived in abundance for the three humble fishermen and their nets were full. (wikipedia)


Since then, devoted Catholics have flocked to the town where Our Lady appeared. The number of annual visitors is over 6 million today.


I visited the Basilica of Apercida, one of the destinations of the Pope when he arrives in Brazil in May. It is second only to St. Peter's Basilica in Vatican City in sheer size and can hold 45,000 people at once. Just think how long communion would take for that service.


Inside the Basilica is housed the original statue of Nossa Senhora which appeared nearly 300 years ago. It is viewable in an embedded glass display on one end of the church, and people pass through and take pictures or offer a prayer. It is one of the most underwhelming things you will ever see. Kind of like seeing the Mona Lisa, so I am told. Nossa Senhora Aparecida stands about 30 cm, with a cute little cape and crown. She kind of reminds me of a bottle of Aunt Jemima syrup. This truly must be a Catholic thing.


Below, the sanctuary is an offering room filled with the personal affections of people who wanted to give back to Our Lady for the answering of prayers. The 2002 World Cup jersey of Ronaldo hangs in that room along with dolls, tools, steering wheels and eating utensils. Things you see at garage sales. In fact, it looked like a really cool garage sale.


Outside the basilica is a food court with a McDonalds that contains an aquarium. The town is an interesting mix of commercial and Catholic.


Aparecida was packed during my visit as it was a festival weekend. Small groups dressed in brightly-colored traditional garments and lugging percussion instruments would dance down the streets, and the street vendors and open store fronts dominated the sidewalks. There was a horse parade in the late afternoon. Just a whole bunch of people riding a whole bunch of horses through town and leaving a whole bunch of horse manure behind.


It was an interesting place to visit nevertheless. Even if I don't understand the importance of an Aunt Jemima bottle without syrup.




Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Easter in Iguaçu


For many, Easter is a time of renewal and rebirth - a time of cleansing. Of course, normally spring is right around the corner in Indiana. Down here, it's getting a tad chilly.

Still, what better place to reflect on purity than the Iguaçu Falls, where water - in all its abundance and majesty - seemingly flows from the heavens.

Words and pictures don't do the falls justice. They are something you have to see to truly understand. After a 15-hour bus ride, I spent the first day viewing the falls from the Brazilian side. I caught my first glimpse of water under gravity's influence on a boat ride in the pouring rain in which the definition of "soaked" was taken to another level. On normal rides, the boats explore more of the falls, but with the rain and high rapids, my group got the abbreviated tour. It was still an entertaining ride if only for the large swells that occasionally overwhelmed our craft.

The rain persisted throughout the weekend, but when you are viewing waterfalls you kind of expect to get wet anyway. Saturday, I took a bus to the Argentina side of the falls. A majority of the falls are found on the Argentina side, and we finally saw some sun Saturday afternoon. I was lucky enough to capture one picture of the falls with a rainbow streaming down nearby. No sign of Noah's Arc, however.

The Argentinian park also contained more paths to view the falls from, including one trail that takes you right to the mouth of Garganta do Diabo, the largest of the falls of Iguaçu. Approaching Garganta do Diablo from the side, it appears as if the water supply of the whole world is being sucked into nothingness. Up close, it is still difficult to fathom the amount of water rushing down its neck. I felt very small and insignificant in the presence of Garganta.

Just to contend with all those Americans studying in Europe, we took a trip to Paraguay on Sunday to record our third country in as many days. Paraguay is one of the poorest countries in South America, and the border between Brazil and Paraguay is notorious for drug smuggling. Many tourists in Iguaçu flock to Paraguay to buy things at a considerably discounted price. Beyond the bargains though, there wasn't much to see - unless neglected buildings and trashy streets count. After a few hours of shopping, we took the most delapitated cab in South America back to Brazil.

My decision to visit Iguaçu last weekend was spontaneous, but not random - the falls were definitely on my list of "Places To Visit While In Brazil." Pleasant surprises became a theme for this trip, however, since I traveled with a group of Americans that I hadn't spent much time with previously. Bunk beds and pool-side bars can make you familiar real fast, however. Four girls, two guys, one room. 'Nuff said.

I had a few flashbacks from my counselor days at camp Lutherwald to say the least.

I made it back to São Paulo around noon on Monday. I may have only one 10+ hour bus ride left in me.

This week I finished reading Steinbeck's "Grapes of Wrath." Originally, I was reading the novel for my U.S. History course, but then I found out we were only watching the movie. I finished the book anyway.

It's interesting to note that parallels can be drawn today between Brazil and one of the most American books ever written. While Steinbeck's novel focused on the struggle of migratory farmers in California during the Depression, reading this book helped me empathize with the thousands of homeless and displaced people that live in Brazil's large metroplises. Despite being abundant in natural resources, 80% of Brazilian's live in urban areas.

Like in California during the 1930s, this country is divided into the Have and the Have-Nots, and unfortunately the Haves always seem to do everything in their power to make sure things don't change - including manipulating the law. So much money in this country is poored into security. Personally, I find it hard to live where such obvious descrepancies exist between rich and poor.

It was tough not being in Bloomington last Wednesday as one of my favorite sports writers - and one of the best writers in journalism period - visited campus. No one will ever be able to tell a sports story with the old-fashioned charm of Frank DeFord in today's world. But nobody could back then either.

You can read about his visit here. I especially liked the end of the article related to the "power of sports." That's something that is strongly evident in this country as well.

Wednesday, April 4, 2007

Another "ferias," another "viagem"


I finally got an eagle's eye view of the city I've come to know and (occasionally) love last weekend.
Sunday morning I took a bus to the fringe of the city and hiked up to the Pico do Jaraguá, the highest peak in the state of São Paulo. It was a beautiful day for hiking, and the trail cut right through tropical terrain. The path was a tad rough in a few places, and I thought a couple of my brasiliera companions might turn around and go home, but everyone made it to the top with a little encouragement. (For me, climbing 152 steps twice a day to reach my house turned out to be good training.)

Of course, we were rewarded in the end with a view of the city that taught me just how sprawling this place is. Miles and miles of buildings were visible from the peak. I couldn't pick out a single landmark. São Paulo has no center and all of the buildings are about the same size. It's one massive web of steel and concrete surrounded by a haze of green house gases. I took a few deep breaths of fresh air before starting the hike back down.

It's ridiculous really the amount of time I am getting off for Páscoa, Easter that is. Not that I'm complaining. I had one class this week on Monday night. The rest: canceled.

Actually, I still feel as if I'm waiting for classes to kick in here. School has been in session for a month now, but I haven't had a test or a major assignment due yet. May and June must be a real gauntlet for PUC students...or maybe not (hopefully).

At IU, I usually am holding on for dear life to make it through the week- figuratively speaking. At PUC, I usually am holding on to a tropical drink with a little pink umbrella - literally speaking. I'm trying to convince myself that I deserve this prolonged respite, that I'm being rewarded for something good I did somewhere along the line. Sure, everything I do here has some kind of priceless, sentimental "I'm in Brazil!" quality attached to it. But when are these teacher going to get down to business?

These are the things I will be thinking about on my 12-hour bus ride to the falls of Iguaçu tomorrow. I'm taking the bus to Iguaçu because:

a) It's less expensive.
b) The airports resemble a refugee camp these days.

Recently, São Paulo air traffic controllers went on strike, which messed up just about every international flight last weekend. Delta completely postponed their Saturday flight. How do I know? I watched the Final Four with their pilots at an Irish pub.

I will be spending my Easter weekend near the borders of Brazil, Argentina and Paraguay where one of the most amazing natural wonders of the world flows. The Iguaçu Falls are made up of over 250 waterfalls of up to 270 feet in height, and the park in which the falls are located is also home to many exotic plants and animals (like the jaguar and the anteater).
I heard that you don't breath air in Iguaçu, you breath butterflies. Assuming this is true, I'm packing a snorkel.

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Almost Paradise


Tall and tan and young and lovely
the girl from Ipanema goes walking
and when she passes
each one she passes goes ahhh

After my visit to Rio de Janeiro it's easy to see how a certain stretch of coastline could inspire such songs as the The Girl from Ipanema and Copacabana. It's impossible to walk along these renowned beaches on a sunny day without a catchy tune in your head.

The differences between Rio and São Paulo are vast. While São Paulo feels like an endless mish-mash of buildings and more buildings...and more buildings, Rio seems more open. The city's infrastructure weaves around the scattered peaks and wraps along the coast, so you always have that visual escape from urban life. There even is a national park inside the city, which is kind of unique. And despite Rio's problems with crime and violence, it is still one of the most beautiful cities in the world. No doubt.

When she walks she's like a samba
that swings so cool and sways so gently
that when she passes
each one she passes goes ahhh

My group flew in on Friday morning and began the weekend with a tour of Rio's historic downtown. Stuffy churches, classic libraries, provocative art - I think just about every city has these things, but I was in Ree-Oh Day Jah-Nare-Oh so it seemed innovative. We ate lunch downtown at one of the most well-known restaurants in the city called Confeitura Colombo. It was a buffet-style restaurant with one heck of a dessert selection. Of course I took full advantage.

For three nights I stayed in The Ipanema Hotel, which coincidentally is located right next to A Praia da Ipanema, sometimes referred to as "the beach." I didn't actually get to enjoy the beach until Sunday and Monday, but when I did it really felt like walking into a postcard. The waves build up right on top of the shore and the islands rest in front looking out into the Atlantic. A towering rock that touches the clouds towers to the right and the line of hotels sit behind.

On weekends, people flock to the beach to relax or play volleyball. Ipanema is the first beach I've seen in Brasil where people are serious about their volleyball. Even some of the older women can get some wicked spin on their serves.

The waves on Rio's coastline can be wicked as well. If you're not paying attention, every once and awhile a towering current will crash into the sand and leave you washed up on shore wondering who just hit you with a baseball bat. Several people in my group complained of shore shoulders, busted bottoms and headaches courtesy of Wave Monster Ipanema.

Oh, but he watches so sadly
How can he tell her he loves her
Yes, he would give his heart gladly
but each day when she walks to the sea
she looks straight ahead not at he

Friday night I attended a samba show at the Vivo Rio. Beth Carvalho, a well-known Brazilian singer, was the headliner for a show that celebrated the history and development of Brazil's favorite rhythm. I recognized one song thanks to my Brazilian music class, but sadly I couldn't join in with the rest of the audience who seemed to know just about every song. I think the U.S. could use a little more samba on the airwaves just to shake thing up a bit.

Saturday was a day of high altitudes and amazing birds-eye views. Not only did I take the cable cars to the summit of Pão de Açucar (Sugarloaf Mountain) and get to see Cristo Redentor shrouded in mist at the top of Corcovado, but I also went hang gliding in the morning. It was an experience that I won't soon forget.

Asa Delta, the hang gliding company, picked my group of three up at our hotel and drove us to a beach where hang gliders were floating in to land. In a nearby peak 520 meters above I could make out the small wooden runway where the gliders were taking off. Another shuttle ride took us into Tijuca Forest and to the top of the peak where the platform stood. There I strapped into a hang gliding suit and was giving quick instructions by my pilot/partner Rafael, who couldn't have been much taller than five feet.

Watching people take off made me a bit nervous. The runaway didn't seem too long. Each time a new glider prepared to take off the instructor would count to three, then the instructor and the paying customer would take a first step and begin to run together. And keep running. Right off the platform and into the sky. Yikes.

After a quick run-through of the takeoff and an explanation on the landing procedure, however, I was standing on the runaway ready to fly. The key is to keep running and not slow down as you approach the edge. I think I executed fairly well.

That first few seconds in the air was awesome. From my vantage point in the sky I peered out into the ocean, stared below at the tops of 30-story buildings and sailed between the tree-covered peaks. Of course, I left the controls to Rafael. After a few slow turns, the fifteen-minute flight ended on a sandy beach. My Superman impersonation was over.

Tall and tan and young and lovely
the girl from Ipanema goes walking
and when she passes
each one she passes goes ahhh

Sunday night was the 21st birthday of an American friend, so a group of us went to a Thai restaurant where the tables are only like a foot off the ground so you sit on the floor. Obviously everyone in Thailand is the size of Oompa-Loompas because that is not a way to enjoy a good meal. We also visited a nearby bar where the strangest combination of fashion and music was waiting for us. Grunge, emo-looking Brazilians were rocking around the clock to 50s rock-n-roll at a place called the Irish Bar. Jerry Lee Lewis is very much alive in this country.

The four-day visit ended all too soon, but I think I got to see the best parts of Rio. Besides, I've got to get this song out of my head.

the girl from Ipanema goes walking
and when she passes he smiles
but she doesn't see
she just doesn't see