This week has been something of a new beginning for me in Sao Paulo. Classes began at PUC last Monday and I moved into my third (and hopefully last) place in six weeks. Classes really don´t get going until after Carnaval here, so the next two weeks are more of a preview or sampling of things to come. But first, how `bout those Colts!
I did get to see the Super Bowl late Sunday night and early Monday morning with a few American friends. Unfortunately, we didn´t get to see the multi-million dollar commericials that make the Super Bowl appealing to even the non-football fan. Instead, I was subjected to the same soccer commercial about 50 times. I think I would rather have watched the Chevy/Mellencamp commercial on a loop between game action, but I´m pretty sure that song is outlawed outside of the United States. This is our countrrrryyy! I am a bit dissappointed that I wasn´t around to celebrate the Colts´ Super Bowl Championship with people that actually understood football and had followed the ups and downs of the team over the years, but then I remembered that I´m wearing shorts while it´s zero degrees in Indiana. This made me feel a little better.
Back to less important stuff...
Choosing classes in Brazil can be a difficult and confusing process for American students. Brazilian students only get to choose the professional program in which they enroll. All their classes are mandatory. For this reason, professors don`t make detailed syllabuses that describe courses as students have to take the class whether they want to or not. As an international student, I get to choose any class I want, but basically all I have to go off of is the title of the course and maybe a brief general description. I know what I DO NOT want to take, but finding something I DO want to take may be a little trickier.
Since most Brazilian students work during the day, almost all classes take place early in the morning or late at night. But at PUC the first week actually contains very little class. The first week at PUC is dedicated to hazing incoming freshmen, called bichos, which translates affectionately to animal or insect. It is a rather alarming and disturbing sight to encounter a freshly released bicho on the street if you don`t know about the tradition. They look like a rainbow threw up on them as they are covered head to toe in sloppily applied paint. Some of them are wrapped in toilet paper, and some of the men have chunks of hair shaved off in random places. Needless to say, many male freshmen have buzz cuts their first semester of college. Oddly enough, everyone seems to be enjoying themselves - especially the bichos - and not even the 24 hours of rain we`ve had here as of late has slowed down the celebration of a new school year.
PUC is unlike any school I`ve ever seen before. Space is at a premium in the city and every building looks slightly dilapitated. Still, the place has character and it´s the people that really bring it to life. You can see a bit of the main campus here, although I don´t think it gives you a good idea of what the place is like.
Like I mentioned above, I moved in with a new family this week. There was nothing significantly wrong with the living arrangement I had before in the castle on top of a hill, I just was given the opportunity to visit a few other places and decided to take advantage of it. That being said, the giant cockroach that greeted me in the shower one morning with its legs flailing upwards helped make the decision to move a bit easier.
The house I am living in now is within walking distance to PUC and the metro and also has a tennis facility nearby (major bonus points!). I now have a mom and two host brothers who are older than me, work in the city and also have their own band. Oh, the house has lots of space, the largest movie collectionI´ve ever seen, I have my own room, own bathroom, Internet access - Is this heaven? I mean, I have to ascend over 100 white stairs to reach the house walking from PUC, so I actually think this might be heaven. And speaking of heaven...
This past Sunday was a day of odd extremes for me. I attended a German Lutheran church near the center of Sao Paulo in the morning. The service took place in the oldest Lutheran church in Sao Paulo and holds a service in German as well as Portuguese. I could follow the service for the most part, but I have no idea what the sermon was about. That´s nothing unusual though. One man thought I was German and was surprised to learn that I was an American. They probably don`t see too many Yankees walk through their doors.
It was a beautiful day on Sunday, so I decided to take a stroll around a public park and near a few museums downtown. Everything is a bit more still downtown as there is not as much traffic and it was a hot, lazy Sunday on this particular day. I did notice that there are a lot more homeless men in the downtown area. They sleep on the sidewalks and make makeshift shelters out of scrap material. The poverty foound in this city can be really disturbing at times.
Anyway, as I was making my way back to the metro I was stopped by a man about my age and his companion. The man didn´t appear threatening and stopped me by putting his hand on my chest. Being the naive foreigner that he thought I was, I didn´t realize what was going on until he lifted my shirt up and pulled my little pink Mary Kay camera right off my neck. He didn´t run away or anything, he just began to walk away with a smile like a bully that just stole some kid´s lunch money. I made a few mild protests, but really I felt there was very little I could do in that situation that would turn out in my favor. He knew it too. I stopped following the two men and went home. I was carrying way too much cash at the time, so losing just the camera was a bit of a relief.
I guess if I was going to get robbed at some point I would want it to be like that, but it was definitely an unexpected occurence at that time and place. I think I learned a thing or two from the experience about being a target because of my appearance, walking alone downtown and letting someone put their hands on you - even if they appear nonthreatening. Still, I can´t help but shake my head in amusement at the thought of whoever ends up with that little pink camera with Mary Kay scrawled on it. Yeah, that´s not going to look sketchy at all.
When I went to buy my metro ticket right after being robbed, the attendent asked me where I was from - as I obviously wasn´t from around here. ¨I´m an American,¨ I said. I didn´t smile.
I did get to see the Super Bowl late Sunday night and early Monday morning with a few American friends. Unfortunately, we didn´t get to see the multi-million dollar commericials that make the Super Bowl appealing to even the non-football fan. Instead, I was subjected to the same soccer commercial about 50 times. I think I would rather have watched the Chevy/Mellencamp commercial on a loop between game action, but I´m pretty sure that song is outlawed outside of the United States. This is our countrrrryyy! I am a bit dissappointed that I wasn´t around to celebrate the Colts´ Super Bowl Championship with people that actually understood football and had followed the ups and downs of the team over the years, but then I remembered that I´m wearing shorts while it´s zero degrees in Indiana. This made me feel a little better.
Back to less important stuff...
Choosing classes in Brazil can be a difficult and confusing process for American students. Brazilian students only get to choose the professional program in which they enroll. All their classes are mandatory. For this reason, professors don`t make detailed syllabuses that describe courses as students have to take the class whether they want to or not. As an international student, I get to choose any class I want, but basically all I have to go off of is the title of the course and maybe a brief general description. I know what I DO NOT want to take, but finding something I DO want to take may be a little trickier.
Since most Brazilian students work during the day, almost all classes take place early in the morning or late at night. But at PUC the first week actually contains very little class. The first week at PUC is dedicated to hazing incoming freshmen, called bichos, which translates affectionately to animal or insect. It is a rather alarming and disturbing sight to encounter a freshly released bicho on the street if you don`t know about the tradition. They look like a rainbow threw up on them as they are covered head to toe in sloppily applied paint. Some of them are wrapped in toilet paper, and some of the men have chunks of hair shaved off in random places. Needless to say, many male freshmen have buzz cuts their first semester of college. Oddly enough, everyone seems to be enjoying themselves - especially the bichos - and not even the 24 hours of rain we`ve had here as of late has slowed down the celebration of a new school year.
PUC is unlike any school I`ve ever seen before. Space is at a premium in the city and every building looks slightly dilapitated. Still, the place has character and it´s the people that really bring it to life. You can see a bit of the main campus here, although I don´t think it gives you a good idea of what the place is like.
Like I mentioned above, I moved in with a new family this week. There was nothing significantly wrong with the living arrangement I had before in the castle on top of a hill, I just was given the opportunity to visit a few other places and decided to take advantage of it. That being said, the giant cockroach that greeted me in the shower one morning with its legs flailing upwards helped make the decision to move a bit easier.
The house I am living in now is within walking distance to PUC and the metro and also has a tennis facility nearby (major bonus points!). I now have a mom and two host brothers who are older than me, work in the city and also have their own band. Oh, the house has lots of space, the largest movie collectionI´ve ever seen, I have my own room, own bathroom, Internet access - Is this heaven? I mean, I have to ascend over 100 white stairs to reach the house walking from PUC, so I actually think this might be heaven. And speaking of heaven...
This past Sunday was a day of odd extremes for me. I attended a German Lutheran church near the center of Sao Paulo in the morning. The service took place in the oldest Lutheran church in Sao Paulo and holds a service in German as well as Portuguese. I could follow the service for the most part, but I have no idea what the sermon was about. That´s nothing unusual though. One man thought I was German and was surprised to learn that I was an American. They probably don`t see too many Yankees walk through their doors.
It was a beautiful day on Sunday, so I decided to take a stroll around a public park and near a few museums downtown. Everything is a bit more still downtown as there is not as much traffic and it was a hot, lazy Sunday on this particular day. I did notice that there are a lot more homeless men in the downtown area. They sleep on the sidewalks and make makeshift shelters out of scrap material. The poverty foound in this city can be really disturbing at times.
Anyway, as I was making my way back to the metro I was stopped by a man about my age and his companion. The man didn´t appear threatening and stopped me by putting his hand on my chest. Being the naive foreigner that he thought I was, I didn´t realize what was going on until he lifted my shirt up and pulled my little pink Mary Kay camera right off my neck. He didn´t run away or anything, he just began to walk away with a smile like a bully that just stole some kid´s lunch money. I made a few mild protests, but really I felt there was very little I could do in that situation that would turn out in my favor. He knew it too. I stopped following the two men and went home. I was carrying way too much cash at the time, so losing just the camera was a bit of a relief.
I guess if I was going to get robbed at some point I would want it to be like that, but it was definitely an unexpected occurence at that time and place. I think I learned a thing or two from the experience about being a target because of my appearance, walking alone downtown and letting someone put their hands on you - even if they appear nonthreatening. Still, I can´t help but shake my head in amusement at the thought of whoever ends up with that little pink camera with Mary Kay scrawled on it. Yeah, that´s not going to look sketchy at all.
When I went to buy my metro ticket right after being robbed, the attendent asked me where I was from - as I obviously wasn´t from around here. ¨I´m an American,¨ I said. I didn´t smile.
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