Sorry about the long hiatus. My computer fio (cord) broke and for some reason I don't want to upload the 600+ pictures I've taken in the last month to the family computer, and I for some reason I don't want to blog when I have no pictures. So until that arrives (should be next week, I hope), the blog will be pictureless. Yippie.
In other words, things break. Use an adapter next time, Jake. Then this won't happen. These things are so evident in retrospect.
I've got to blog about Salvador, which was the 13-16 of April, Carnaval, which was back in Feburary (whoops), and the first orientation, which was back in...November? It might have to wait until I get back home. There are some other posts I want to write (about blogging, about this series of protests that's been going on, food, Brazilian culture, the city of Fortaleza - interesting stuff), and I think we're going to Jericoacoara at the end of the month. My host mother, the official trip-planner (she's just generally awesome), says that we exchangers have to go before we leave. The big obstacle? It's on the other side of Ceará, about a six-hour car ride from Fortaleza.
Páscoa (Easter) is the name of the big holiday that we celebrate in the United States, but here in Brazil, the Semana Santa (Holy Week) is much more important. Semana Santa is pretty much that entire week. I had the usual hummy-drummy Monday before taking two long and painfully difficult tests designed to simulate the monster that haunts the nightmares of every Brazilian High School student: O Vestibular. To put this into perspective for you, using the American school system as a base, imagine that the SAT covered advanced English, Mathematics, History, Biology, Physics, Chemistry, Geography, and either Spanish or French, and that you could only take it at the end of the academic year, and that your score on this single test would determine what college you could go to and what you could major in. Yes, it's that scary. The school system here merits a couple of posts all by itself.
During these testing days, we students have the luxury of sleeping in, or getting up early and studying, or some other third mindless option. (I went to Lojas Americanas, this absolutely wonderful God-send of a store that I will ake a blog post about, and bought food.) We go to school before 13:00, which is when the test starts. You eat lunch and then bring snacks, like cookies or Japanese peanuts. Or both. (Hint: This is what I did. In the US, we're not supposed to eat in the classroom because of kids that have peanut allergies. Not sure about what my school does about that, or if anybody attending even has peanut allergies. I expect they have this sort of information on file. Anyway.)
We arrive, find our assigned room (this information is posted in seemingly insidious places throughout the school; I can never seem to find them until somebody points it out to me), pick seats, and begin. I've always found it very interesting here how students are organized by their first names - everybody has at least two last names and few people have a middle name, so I suppose going by the first name is easier. They split the classes into two different rooms: one for A-N, the other for O-Z.
About an hour and a half, two hours, I'm-actually-not-sure-because-I-wasn't-keeping-track hours, they hand out the answer sheet. It's fill in the bubbles, but we have to use pen. So if you mess up, you get that question wrong...? I don't know anything about this. It's definitely not Scantron, because you must use pen.
And then you leave when you're done. It's like college, except much more frightening. I think.
One day was Math, Portuguese, and Foreign Language; the other was everything else. For the Portuguese test, we write an essay in addition to the multiple choice. These are different too. Imagine if the SAT Essay had more abstract grading criteria than it already does. And a minimum line count. Not a minimum word count. A minimum line count.
So anyway, anyway, let's talk about the fun stuff now.
We left for the sítio (country house) Wednesday night, as neither Rapha nor I had class for the rest of the week. Along the way, we stopped at the house of Mãe's grandparents to pick up her aunt and her niece, Roberta. The sítio is about half-an-hour away from the apartment, and by the time we got there and unpacked it was nearing 11:00, which is past my bedtime. Except not really. But I was tired, so I slept.
The next day, Thursday, Roberta and I chilled until Clarissa, Laura, and Elif arrived. This was around 3:00, and since Roberta and I got up around 10:00, there wasn't much chill time. We ate lunch. We tried to remember the words to Química do Amor. We ate more food.
They did arrive, and introductions were made all around. In Brazil, introductions are almost ritualistic. Men shake hands. Women kiss each other on the cheek once or twice, and the same is expected between men and women. I'm not quite sure of how you know whether to do one kiss or two kisses, although I suspect it varies from family to family.
And then, we took part in what has become a great exchange student pasttime - we watched movies. In Portuguese with Portuguese subtitles. I feel like this is the best way to work on comprehension, because you don't always look at the subtitles when you're understanding the audio. And sometimes, jokes are just that much better in a foreign language. And sometimes they don't make any sense and you're left wondering what the Dickens that was supposed to be in the original script.
Friday was a beach day. Beach beach beach beach beach. Except we only went in the morning. But that counts as the whole day, pretty much. And I burned. I reapplied SPF 50 twice, and I still burned. And now, sitting here, more than two weeks later, a corner of my foot is still burned. I give up. Brazilian sun, you win.
Clarissa brought a giant chocolate egg for us. In Brazil, people usually give large eggs of chocolate. They're hollow, but with more chocolate inside (but it's wrapped). Bite-sized eggs, like in the US, are nonexistant, and chocolate rabbits are only for small children. The difference with Clarissa's egg is that she actually made it. Chocolate on cookies on chocolate on strawberries on chocolate. Delicious.
And really, Saturday and Sunday were pretty calm. Visitors came - this is very common, visiting somebody in their sítio to get away from the city -, we went swimming, we played ping-pong, we made brownies, we watched more movies, we climbed trees and held uncomfortable positions so we could take good photos and not fall off.
All pretty normal stuff.
I got home around 5:00 or 6:00, and we headed right off to mass. I may officially be Catholic, but I'm not religious and I don't agree with a lot of things that the Vatican says and does (and doesn't do). But, interestingly enough, a mass in a Brazilian Catholic church and a mass in an American Catholic church are actually pretty different. For example, no Latin in masses. No crossing with the Holy Water upon entrance. No kneeling and crossing before sitting down. The priest doesn't come through and sprinkle the Holy Water throughout the crowd. Sometimes, the Host is dipped in the wine, sometimes they are separate, and sometimes there is no wine except at the altar. You cross after putting the Host in your mouth, not before. you don't bow your head just before receiving the host. In Brazil, you receive a paper with has all of the mass printed, except for the Priest's speech, and sometimes they change the songs. Churches range from being stunningly modern to simple, from ornate to undistinguished. Oftentimes, churches overflow and have an entirely separate room for people to sit in plastic chairs.
The dove (which represents the Holy Spirit) can be found everywhere. In homes, on bumpers, photos in restaurants, stores, etc. The saying "Deus é fiel" (God is Faithful) is also a common sight, usually on car windows.
But interestingly enough, Catholics in Brazil aren't as conservatives as Catholics in the United States, as this article suggests (although, it's a little dated).
That said, Ceará may very well be the most religious part of the country. One of the great things about Brazil is that it's so large and so diverse, so what is true for one part of the country might not be true for another part.
Hey, that sounds...familiar.
