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

The night before Rio...

It was the night before Rio,

And all through the house,

Not a creature was stirring,

Unless you count the annoying little ants that creep through every house in this city.

Well, it started with the best of intentions.

As I've already indicated, tomorrow I'm flying to Rio de Janeiro (you know, the city where the girl from Ipanema is from) for the weekend. And I'm kind of excited. Instead of visions of sugar plums, I'm betting I'll be dreaming of the Cristo Redentor tonight. Or maybe peanut butter. Still craving it.

I have to be at the airport at six da manha. In other words, bright and early.

I think I walked into something of a job this week when a man overheard a friend and I conversing in English and stopped us to chat. Turns out he was looking for native English speakers to work as teachers for his students. I attended a couple of his classes this week and hope to begin teaching a few of his clients in the near future. As I found out, teaching English in this particular style actually helps improve my Portuguese, which I need desperately right now. Many of the lessons are entirely verbal and consist of a lot of translation and pronunciation - two things I need to improve on. Oh, and I'll get paid.

Last Saturday was St. Patrick's Day in case you didn't realize. I didn't until I happened upon an Irish Pub called All Black near Avenida Paulista. And since I've never been in an Irish pub before and it being St. Paddy's Day and all I took a look around. (Luckily, I was wearing green.) The place was packed at four in the afternoon and everyone had a Guinness or choppe verde (green beer) of course. Brazil doesn't celebrate St. Patrick's Day, so for the few Americans and Europeans in São Paulo it's like our little secret.

Back with the scoop on Rio next week.

Things Fall Apart

Studying abroad can be taxing on your mind, it can throw off your body and - as I have found out the last couple weeks - it can wreak havoc on the ample few things you brought along for the journey.

Case One: My two and a half year-old laptop computer died on me last week without warning. If you have ever witnessed the death of a computer then you know that helpless, I-had-no-idea-this-was-about-to happen feeling that I experienced when painful whizzes and beeps began emanating from within my Dell. It's kind of like watching a train wreck develop in slow motion. Turns out my hard drive turned into JELL-O and I will be laptop-less until I return to the States. (I actually had only been using my laptop to listen to music and watch DVDs as of late, so really it's not a huge loss...except in my bank account.)

Case Two: I finally found a place to play tennis that won't cost me an arm and a leg - infact, it won't cost me anything. My PUC mentor (her name is Sarah, and I would be so lost without her) got me in touch with a tennis-playing law student named Aquina, who gave me my first "small world" moment in Brazil. Turns out Aquina was an exchange student in northern Indiana in 2002 and actually recognized the name of my high school! We talked about this as we met for the first time and drove to a tennis lesson in São Paulo, Brazil. There is just one moon and one golden sun...

But back to the "Things Fall Apart" theme. I haven't played tennis in four months, and I didn't bring the proper shoes or a raquet or anything, so I knew it would probably be a long lesson. That and it felt like 95 degrees on the court. Within the first ten minutes of the lesson I was sucking wind and my shoes had split at bottom so it looked like they had mouths or something. Anyway, I survived the lesson (and spent the next two days walking around like a 60 year-old man), but my sapatos - one of two pair I brought with me - were in bad shape. The thought of looking for size 14s (size 44s here) in this city seems a little daunting right now, so I took my kicks to a sapataria to be repaired today. Things fall apart, yeah, but most things can be salvaged.

Last Wednesday, I officially felt like I had joined the Circus when I visited a public school located outside of the city. Our group of 25 American students took a small bus to visit a couple public Brazilian schools as part of our Brazilian Culture class. The facility was nothing to brag about at the first school we visited, which was located near some favelas, or Brazilian ghettos, but the kids were enamored with my stature and obvious foreignness. After our group took a short tour of the place we stopped for a few minutes in a cafeteria-like room where kids were having lunch. First a couple kids came up to talk to me, which was nice. Then a couple more wandered over, and a few more, and a few more, until I was completely surrounded by little Brazilians that looked at me as if I was from one of Jupiter's moons or something. I was slightly embarrassed by all the attention - especially considering that I was in the same room as a couple dozen other Americans and very few kids were approaching the other Yankees.

It could have been the blonde hair, the blue eyes, my towering stick-like shadow, whatever the reason, the children came - and they came with questions. How tall are you? What's your shoe size? What country are you from? Do you play basketball? Some little girl put her foot next to mine and ran away giggling at the desparity in size. And then it dawned on me: This was my best chance to pose as a member of the IU basketball team. I left those kids thinking my name was D.J. White.

Which brings me to March Madness.

Yes, I spent about five hours today watching NCAA college basketball on ESPN. It was simply glorious. My first glimpse of March Madness today came while chowing down on tuna pizza (I don't recommend it.) at a nearby pizza place. Then I high-tailed it home for a that once-a-year b-ball marathon. I didn't catch IU's win. but there is a possibility I will be able to watch their game against UCLA. The Hoosiers will go as far as the streaky shooting of Rod Wilmont in this year's tournament, yes sir!

On a studious note, I decided on a topic for the 10-page paper I am required to write (in Portuguese!!!) for Brazilian Culture. I am going to take two things I know a lot about (sports and media) and unite them into a single paper that analyzes the portrayal of beloved Brazilian sports figures in the media over the last five decades or so. I am not a big Formula One racing fan, but I fell hard for the late, great Ayrton Senna after reading up on his life on Wikipedia. (Check out his notable quotes.) I think I might visit his grave in Morumbi.

Bad day to be a gringo

The anticipated arrival of President Bush in São Paulo has been broadcast all over the news and been written about in the newspapers daily since the end of Carnaval. Most Brazilians adore America (in fact, its almost a little creepy how attentive they are to American culture), but they have made one thing very clear: They...don't...like...President...Bush.

In fact, I'm pretty sure just about every country in Latin America doesn't like the guy. Here, Bush is viewed as an imperialist, and his visit today is seen as the leader of a powerful country looking to exploit the resources of a weaker one. Ethanol, which powers most of the automobiles in Brazil, is expected to be one of the primary points on the agenda today when Bush meets President Lula.

At PUC - a very liberal institution, of course - images of Bush have been pasted in every nook and cranny depicting the President as incompetent, fascist and just plain stupid. One poster compared Bush to Hitler. A little extreme I would say.

Needless to say, when my US History professor asked if I was a Republican this week I shook my head no. Doing otherwise could spark some serious diatribes. It's not a good idea to say you support the current US President when traveling outside of the country these days.

It's interesting to see the uproar that has transpired due to the visit of my country's leader, but it's also a bit unsettling. Today, I was sure to avoid Avenida Paulista where thousands of protestors gathered to rally against Bush and America.

Traffic was severely congested today as roads were blocked off for the Head of State, who arrived with 4,000 security personnel. Four-thousand to protect one guy! I guess Bush had an idea people weren't going to roll out the red carpet when he stepped off the plane at Guarulhos.

Some American students who live near Paulista said they did not feel safe to be near the protests. Reports are just beginning to roll off the wire about the chaos in the financial district. The policia militar used tear gas to disperse at least one demonstration today.

It's not a good day to be a gringo in São Paulo.

Midnight madness every Thursday

After a sloppy Carnaval, I began my first "real" week of classes, and I consider my schedule to be a favorable one.

At PUC, they offer morning classes (for the rich kids that don´t work or really even need to go to college) and night classes (for the middle class kids that work during the day). Luckily, all my classes are in the afternoon or at night. As I learned this week, this is advantageous for several reasons:

a) I can get up at 10 AM everyday without feeling guilty.
b) My sleeping habits don't get throw out of whack on the weekends.
c) The students that take night classes tend to be more mature and friendly. (Probably because they haven´t been coddled all their lives like the well-off children of the SP.)

The earliest class I have all week is at 1:30 PM. I´m taking Brazilian culture, Portuguese, Brazilian music and either photojournalism or aquatic ecosystems. (I haven't decided yet.) Oh, and remember the U.S. History class where I'm the only American? Well, I convinced another American to join the class. This takes some pressure off my shoulders because now instead of the professor looking at me to know the rate of unemployment during the Depression, he looks at my American friend (who happens to speak Portuguese a million times better than me). This makes me smile inside.

Over the weekend, the clocks moved back an hour in Brazil, so now it gets dark here around 7 PM instead of 8 PM. For nearly two full days, however, I had no idea that this occurred. I showed up to my history class totally confused when no one was there (actually, I'm finding empty classrooms to be common here, but still its always confusing). Eventually, I asked a girl if we had class today, and she was like, "Yeah, at 7:40." My watch read 8:00.

Since things will be settling down a bit now that the semester has begun, I'm working on finding some extracuricular activities to fill my downtime. It' not an easy thing to do when you attend a university that caters itself to the working student (and it's illegal for me to work in this country). I've started running in the mornings during the week - my legs killed this week after having been as physically active as Porky Pig the last two months. There is a nice path in the middle of Avenida Sumaré, which is a main road near my house, where joggers and bikers can do there thing. One concern on Sumaré, however, is the exhaust from cars that pollutes the air. You can really smell it on hot afternoons. My host mom told me to run on higher ground, but I really haven't noticed much air pollution in the mornings. Polluition is a hard thing to escape in this city anyway. Another real kicker is the 152 steps that I walk up and down to get to my house. That's a nice workout on its own.

I started practicing with a basketball team made up of PUC law students this week. They practice from 11 PM to 1 AM on Thursdays. A crazy time, I know, but when you are desperate to play basketball, you show up when they tell you. The court we practiced on had hoops that were maybe nine feet tall and we spent most of the practice running drill up and down the court, but it still was fun. I instantaneously morphed from an average to a pretty darn good basketball player by coming here. I might even start referring to myself in the third-person on the court.

This weekend, I made a pilgrimmage to everyone's favorite neighborhood bar and grille. That's right ladies and gentlemen, São Paulo has an Applebee's. The food is a little pricier with the import cost, but I was able and willing to pay a little more for a slice of home. Nothing says "Made in the USA" like a double cheeseburger the size of my head - nothing. Oh, and the free refills were amazing. Yeah, don't take those for granted.

Today, the most intense soccer rivalry in the city was renewed when Palmeiras beat Corinthians 3 to 0. The Palmeiras-Corinthians rivalry is like the Yankees-Red Sox rivalry in baseball - that is, if the Yankees and Red Sox played in the same city and their fans had to be seperated by police to prevent mass chaos. I didn't watch much of the match, but I knew whenever a goal was scored because everyone in the neighborhood would run out onto their porch and give a whoop - at least every Palmeiras fan. One guy in the apartment complex next to my house would come out with a trumpet and play a nice, flat note that would echo down the street. For him, it was a joyful noise.

Since, my brother Marcus works for Universal Studios here in São Paulo, he has the largest movie collection I've ever seen. Anyway, I've been picking out some titles here and there and found one that really hit home. I know Lost in Translation was nominated for an Oscar a few years back, but I never saw it until last week. It wouldn't have made sense to me before I came here anyway. Watching it reminded me of my first few confusing and dissorienting weeks in this city. I could have used a Scarlett Johansson to cheer me up that's for sure. Today, it seems like a long time ago.