Thursday, March 22, 2007

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.

Friday, March 16, 2007

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.

Thursday, March 8, 2007

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.

Sunday, March 4, 2007

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.

Sunday, February 25, 2007

A Carnaval de Chuva or Rain, Rain, Go Away


How do you disclose an entire week of gluttony, indulgence and disarray? A week where refusal is out of the question and the pulsing music never stops. Well, you don´t. At least not entirely. Afterall, reputations are on the line.

Carnaval in Florianopolis played out like a college Spring Break in Florida, complete with a house near the beach, round-the-clock parties and red meat for breakfast. (Hey, when you´re shooting to wake up at noon everyday it´s not out of the question.)

I stayed in a rented house an hour south of Florianopolis at a beach called Ferrugem. The traffic was horrendous on the drive down as expected. I read that around 1.7 million people were expected to leave Sao Paulo that day. That´s a decent-sized city! We left Sao Paulo at two in the afternoon and checked in at Ferrugem at three in the morning. What I thought would be an eight hour drive turned into a thirteen hour drive-a-thon. The flat tire didn´t help.

In the spirit of the week, we took a stroll down the main road of Ferrugem after checking in to catch a glimpse of the night/early morning life. A surreal scene awaited.

A street party a few hundred strong was stomping and shaking to the techno music blasting from someone´s car in the middle of a blocked off intersection. Then another car pulled up a few minutes later and began blasting its techno music. I had walked into an all out techno-street-war. That wasn´t what was so funny though. The main source of amusement was the Argentinian men that were keeping rhythm with the music - particularly their hair. Single strand rat tails, double strand rat tails, all-out mullets. I felt like I was on the set of some bad 80s movie. I guess Argentinians love to visit the southern beaches of Brazil, and their hair is a dead give away of there country of origin. For comedy´s sake, let´s hope this trend continues indefinitely.

In contrast, the women appeared exceptional - wait, make that really exceptional. Do they have some kind of law against unattractive women in this part of the country? I guess there is a reason 7 Brazilian models appeared in this year´s Sports Illustrated swim suit edition. (I read that in a magazine, so don´t think I go counting these things...well, maybe both.)

My six companheiros and I spent most of our time in Ferrugem, but we traveled daily (and nightly) to the nearby city of Garopaba for the street Carnaval and food supplies. The weather was terrible for most of the week. It rained almost constantly for four days straight. I only saw the sun on our first full day and our last. This turned our daily drive into a daily mud ride as most of the roads in this area where comprised of dirt.

On the days where the weather was nice, I could see why Ferrugem is such a popular destination. The beach is golden and there is a nice, rocky hill in one area where you can get a good look of the surrounding area. Surfers flock to the waves, and on one day I even saw a couple kite surfers taking advantage of the strong winds. I think kite surfing will be my next hobby in another life. The only negatives were the cold waters and the blustery winds - that is, if you weren´t kite surfing.

For those who think of the ornate parades and scantily-clad women when thinking of Carnaval, please desist. That´s only what Carnaval is like in the large cities where they have parades.
Those kinds of things take place in Rio de Janeiro, Salvador and Recife. That´s where much of the insanity takes place and where most of the media images are broadcast to the world. Many Brazilians, however, travel to the beach for the week. They relax, they go to parties, they enjoy their free time. I was in that boat.

One night, while having a late dinner in Garopaba, I glanced at a television in the restaurant that was showing the Carnaval parades of Rio. I could see the insane floats of fire-breathing dragons and gun-toting alligator men (or something like that), the dancing women drenched in sweat from constant movement, the baianas twirling round and round. I was as close to that stuff as I was to the Super Bowl.

The cluster of houses that surrounded our place were always a good source of entertainment. As the rain kept most people from going to the beach, everyone instead stood outside their houses, blasted music and did their best running man. (Granted these are all young Carnavalers. In fact, along with ugly women, I believe the mayor of Ferrugem outlawed all people over 25 years of age.) A water fight would break out on occasion or someone would do a running dive into the kiddie pool. This is the neighbors, not me. It´s amazing what can serve as entertainment on a rainy day when you´re seperated from technology.

The food was one of the highlights of this trip as it was one of the few indoor delights of Ferrugem. More days than not, our group would buy meat at the market in Garopaba and have our own little churrasco or barbecue. I don´t think I`ve ever ate so much beef in one week in my life. One night, we went to a rodizio de pizza, where the waiters go around to the tables serving different kinds of pizza. I had pizza with broccoli, lettuce, coconut, peas, dark chocolate, white chocolate, plus all the usual toppings. Did Willy Wonka start a pizza chain in Brazil or what?

When the rain finally subsided, I had the opportunity to try the closest thing to a winter sport in Brazil: sandboarding. Sand dunes can be found outside of Garopaba and for a few reais you can rent a board and surf the desert. I´m not much of a snowboarder so I don´t know how it compares, but it was really fun - and really exhausting. There aren´t any ski lifts or anything like that, so once you slide down the dunes you´ve got to trudge back up. It´s like running stadium steps only the steps begin to sink under your weight as you go.

Runs down the dunes don´t end gently either. Most people end up wiping out in some fashion towards the end, which always is funny to watch - as long as they get up. After about an hour of sandboarding your whole body is covered in sand and you just want to collapse. It´s stuck to your face, your legs. It´s in your hair. Not the best feeling in the world, but it´s worth it.

The parties in Ferrugem didn´t start until around one in the morning. They didn´t stop until the sun came out. There were several barn-like clubs packed with people near the beach. The music of choice was techno and funk. Brazilian funk is probably the worst type of music ever created. It makes my ears cry.

I tagged along every night/morning though the clubs wasn´t really my scene. The free concerts in Garopaba were a little more interesting to me. Right outside the beach front, a stage was set up. On the Monday and Tuesday night of Carnaval people of all ages gathered and danced to axe, a type of popular Brazilian music. We arrive on Monday night at three in the morning and the band kept the party going until four.

All week, the beer flowed freely and people seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. Of course, how can one float through Carnaval without being kissed? I gave it my best effort, but at 4 AM in Garopaba this persistent Australian girl wore me down.

After a short conversation in which I ignored every sign that a girl wants you to kiss her, I managed to awkwardly peel this girl off my leg and rejoined my friends. As we were walking to the car to drive back to Ferrugem someone grabbed my arm and pulled me back. It was Australia. ¨I can´t let you leave like that,¨ she said. ¨Afterall, it´s Carnaval.¨

So I shrugged my shoulders and bent down - way down (this girl came up to my waste) - for a big, sloppy wet one.

Big. Sloppy. Wet. That was my Carnaval in a nutshell.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Tooting my own horn


This is my blog, right? So I can add links to articles about myself winning awards without fear of repurcussions? OK, good.

The best part about winning an NCAA sports scholarship is you get your pic printed in the Final Four program. I don`t think even Gene Keady ever had that honor.

Saturday, February 10, 2007

Carnaval is here (almost)!


This whole waiting for Carnaval thing has gotten downright maddening at this point. It seems like everything I`ve done for the past month has been building towards this week of festivities. It`s like I`m a kid on the day before a holiday waiting for Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny to come on the same night!

I`ve tried to stay occupied by visiting the parks and deciphering my readings on the urbanization of Brazil. (Yawn.) The readings are thick in jargon and every time I look at the words my eyes glaze over and visions of baianas dance in my head. (Those are the Carnaval dancers in ornate costumes.) More about my Carnaval plans later.

Of the classes I`ve attended thus far, my favorite has been A Historia da America, which I thought would be about the history of the Americas - North, South and Central. As it turns out, it is actually the history of the United States. This is a pleasant surprise.

The class met for the first time this week, and I was the only American. This is a double-edged sword. I think it will be superinteresting to learn (or relearn) the history of the US through a Brazilian lense. There also comes the pressure, however, of being the go-to guy in the class. My professor continually glanced over at me to correct his English throughout the class and at one point asked me if I knew the unemployment rate during the Depression. Uh, sorry prof.

Going over the syllabus, the professor explained we would be reading As vinhas da ira, which is better known as The Grapes of Wrath in the US. (Titles of movies and books never translate literally from English to Portuguese. Sometimes I wonder who retitles films around here. I mean who decided to change Walk the Line to Johnny and Jude? They need to be sentenced to half an hour in the ring of fire if you ask me.) As vinhas da ira literally translates to ¨The vines of...?¨ I didn´t know what ira meant, so I asked one of my classmates.

¨It`s like your really mad because someone hurt you, so you get back at them with violence,¨ he explained matter of factly. ¨Like what Bush did when he invaded Iraq and Afghanistan.¨

Like I said, this class should be superinteresting.

Last Friday, I tagged along with my new brother Marcos to do a little anthropoligical study of Sao Paulo`s upper echelon. (The music, drinks and promise of beautiful young laidies did not factor into this decision.) His band was featured at a young lady´s private birthday party at the horse track in Sao Paulo. Marcos´ band plays American cover songs mainly, so I felt right at home. Marcos sings, plays the keyboard, percussion and guitar - all while drinking a beer inbetween numbers. I think he is what you call ¨musically versatile.¨

The party was held at the Jocquei Clube (Jockey Club) right outside the horse track. It`s interesting to note that gambling is illegal in Brazil, and yet people blow loads of cash at Bingo parlos, on the lottery AND at race horses. Only in Latin America. I recently noticed a large sign outside of one of the Bingo parlors near my house that said something to the effect that, ¨People that gamble frequently may experience financial or emotional harm.¨ They also print pictures of black, decaying lungs on packs of cigarettes. At least someone warns people what they are getting into I guess.

With so much free time this week, I decided to visit the Sao Paulo zoologico and brush up on my animal vocabulary. The Sao Paulo zoo contains a fairly diverse sample of Noah`s ark with my favorite exhibit being the Aves de Rapina, that is, birds of prey. I think the Harpy eagle is my bird of the month. Like zoos go, every animal is interesting for about 15 seconds unless they are honking, braying, spitting, squawking, playing, fighting, roaring or digging a hole out of their cage with a spoon. Then they are worth 30 seconds. And once you`ve seen them do their business, you know it`s time to move on.

American food abroad was definitely a disappointment this week. I was on Avenida Paulista and decided to go to my first McDonald´s in Brazil. Brazilians view the house that Ronald built a little differently than Americans. McDonald´s is considered quality food here and the people that work as burger flippers actually wear their golden arches with pride. It shows too. My order was prepared with so much TLC it actually looked like the picture on the menu! Here´s the kicker though: I paid the equivalent of $8 for two chicken sandwiches and the smallest McFlurry I´ve ever seen. I could´ve ate at a real restaurant for that price! Which leads me to this conclusion: Brazilians are thinner than Americans because they can´t afford to be super-sized.

In other food news, I went grocery shopping today in preparation for traveling this weekend and had a craving for one of America´s near and dear protein-filled substances: peanut butter. I heard a rumor that you could find peanut butter in Liberdade, the Japanese neighborhood, so I took a look this afternoon and hit up every supermercado I saw with unintelligble characters scralled across the top. No luck. The closest thing I found was some kind of wheat germ that looked like watered down Peter Pan. Not even the Loja Americana (American Store) sold jelly´s significant other. I think any store with Americana in the name that does not sell peanut butter is misleading it´s customers. How can they not have peanut butter in a city of 11 million! Eventually, I broke down and settled for Nutella and a tub of Pacoquita, which is a peanut butter-like candy that I found in the largest bulk candy store I have ever seen. I think I got a cavity just breathing the sugar-filled air.

All right, on with Carnaval! Let´s go! Everyone get out their party hats!

I will be spending Carnaval in Florianopolis, a city about 8 hours south of Sao Paulo by car, with an American and five Brazilians. Florianopolis is known for its beautiful coast line, and, since it is so close to Argentina, the people have a slightly different take on the world. My former host told me that one street during Carnaval in Florianopolis is filled with crossdressing males every year. (Too bad I don`t have a camera anymore, huh?) We are renting a two-bedroom house for a week. That´s right, seven people, two bedrooms! We will either really hate each other or really love each other by the end of the week (or possibly both at different stretches).

This event seems so foreign I´m not really sure what to expect. I could love it or I could hate it, but I probably won´t be experiencing another Brazilian Caranaval for awhile so I will be sure to take in as much as I can and figure out how I feel about it later.

Lost in all the Carnaval-mania, however, is the reason behind the revelry: Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. I´ll be sure to remember that part too.