Jake - A Brazilian Cycle

Cast of Characters

2012-02-25T08:19:00.000-05:00

This post is more about the philosophy of exchange, I suppose. I'm not sure. No stories here, no action, just thought. This time it's mind, not matter.

One of the things I've noticed about going on exchange is that my surroundings are different. Call me Captain Obvious. I'm actually going somewhere with this.

Last summer, I read this book by Brent Hartinger called Project Sweet Life. Among other things, one of the dominant themes is whether you are who you surround yourself with. That really got me thinking. On one hand, it makes sense. Obviously, other people influence us. These have been psycholinguistical studies that show how syntax between close friends changes to become more similar. On the other hand, it begs originality. If we are who we surround ourselves with, then it follows that everybody has taken some part of themselves from somebody else. Obviously, something original had to spring up somewhere.

But it's an interesting question. I think that the answer is a bit of both. We have our unique selves, and then we have the parts of us that are bits and pieces of what we've encountered, and maybe they've been modified a little bit to become part of us. But I think those parts are traceable. I see my friends do something, and I think, 'You sound like your mother' or 'Annie always does that'.

So, inevitably, when you uproot yourself so abruptly, some part of you is gone. Just to avoid confusion, I'm gonna say this - you can't keep some part of you living back in your home country. I'm not saying anything to dispute that. Or maybe, in a way, I am. Doublethink it. (This is a 1984 reference. Read it, and then watch a happy Disney musical. Or go shopping for cute throw pillows at Target. Whatever floats your boat.)

A couple of years ago, whenever A Lion Among Men by Gregory Maguire was published, I read this book called Cast of Characters (hence the post title), and it detailed all of the significant characters in the New Testament. It described their role - why they were important. It was like a literary analysis of the Bible. I know that's really dorky. Work with me. I didn't particularly like it, but I thought the concept was interesting.

This crossed my mind Monday, when I was sick with nothing to do expect expand my ever-growing list of vocabulary words. Languages have so many words! (Once again, call me obvious.)

I think that, while real life is certainly not fiction, the elements of literature are definitely applicable. Granted, we're not in a story with a nice, tight plot and a dénouement and polysyndeton and conceits and all that jazz, but certainly, this stuff applies.

I just believe that everything is this big bowl of what is probably really disgusting soup. And so when you come across something new, into the soup it goes. And then that soup probably gets even more icky.

So back to the point. People.

Right now, my brain divides the people I know into two very distinct categories. There are the people I met before AFS, and the people I met after AFS. So friends, family, teachers, neighbors, etc. from Maryland are all in the first category. Anybody who I know because of AFS - volunteers, other exchange students, and everybody in my life in Brazil - falls into the second category. And as things currently stand, there's very little overlap.

I know, in the last post I said that my brain connects everything like soup, and now I'm saying it compartmentalizes everything like a waffle. It's yucky waffle soup. Or the astral dimension. Just work with it.

My brain also divides the influence from these people. Fluency in a language has been taken away from me, so I am forced to use other methods of communication (this isn't to say that I don't ever speak - I do, I'm just not fluent enough to understand everything that is being said towards me, nor am I able to articulate everything that I want to say). And therefore, I see things about people that I otherwise wouldn't. I spend a little more time pondering. It's like going to the beach and looking at all the shells, not just the smooth ones.

And the characters in my life - the people in my life - are different now.

And that affects me.

Just some interesting food for thought.

Will add pictures to the Rio post soon.

Christmas, Rio de Janeiro, Paraty, and Reveillon!

2012-02-03T16:10:00.001-05:00

I am really making love to this blog today. :)

Alright, so I was working on this and then I realized that I told a friend about the trip and had it typed up anyway, so here's what I told her, edited for this blog and to make it more like a story and less like a mindless ramble. WARNING: This is a massive wall of text, (I like to write...it's a bit of a problem), so bear with me.

I'll add pictures later. Let's go.
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I still can't believe it. Fortaleza seems so boring now. I live in a tourist destination and I think it's boring. This is so not good. Except not really. Fortaleza is actually pretty interesting place, and if you get the chance, you should totally come here. It's just that coming back from Rio, well, sorry Fortaleza.

This story actually starts on Christmas Eve, and then ends, well, it hasn't quite ended yet. It's one of those long and complex stories that sticks with you for a few months, maybe even a year, or a couple, although we haven't gotten there yet.

The kind that keeps you on your toes, because you never know when it might spruce up in your memory.

Christmas Eve is a day designed for family reunions and parties, I think we can agree on this. It is strange for me, celebrating Christmas Eve without snow or cold weather that threatens the existence of my nose. But that's part of the experience - I knew what I was getting into when I signed up for this. Well, I suppose it's more accurate to say that I 'kind-of' knew, but that's irrelevant

Normally, in the states, we spend Christmas Eve with my mother's family and Christmas Day with my Father's, unless we're doing Christmas Eve at our house, in which case we will probably still go see my Dad's family Christmas Day, but we see them anyway on the 24th. But we've never gone to both on the same day. This might be due to the fact that they live about 4 hours from each other. To put that into perspective, that's about the time it takes to drive from Gettysburg to New York.

I start to Skype with my family in the evening. (Right now, Fortaleza is two hours ahead of Eastern Coast US Time - we don't observe DST.) Then, we exchange gifts. My host mother has taken to calling me a monk, since I only brought one pair of shoes with me. So, I receive a pair of social shoes. As for me, I give books and chocolate.

After I am dressed in my spiffy new shoes (and new pants), we go to my host father's side of the family, situated on the outskirt of Fortaleza, to an area I'd never been to. I don't know most of the people there, but everybody was definitely in the Christmas spirit, and so I soon learned names and faces.

From there - it is a quick visit - we go to my host mom's side of the family. Here, I'm going to make a note that Brazil is a very family-oriented culture. Extremely family oriented. So, in other words, of all of the family and extended family there, I know just about everybody by name and face, what their relation is, and other miscellaneous details. I try to think of somebody doing that with my family in the US and I want to cry. Except not really.

We start the party with a small prayer of thanks and appreciation to Our Lord and then everybody makes a beeline for the food. Food in Brazil is good. In fact, it's an absolutely wonder I haven't gained any weight (AFS says you'll probably gain weight. This is a lie. Come to Brazil. We're all getting thinner here.), since I love the food here (except for pineapple...there are a few stories about that), and the family-prepared dishes are excellent. Rice is mandatory at all important meals, and it is always accompanied by either beans or meat, such as beef or pork. Then there are a few quirky dishes - a sort of bread that at first glance appears to be a multi-tiered cake, but is actually bread and fish and cheese and some other things. Things that appear to be soft tacos, but are actually ground beef wrapped in a thin pancake and drizzled with sauce. And etc.

We mingle around for a bit until my host mother manages to Skype with Bella, at which point the same thing happens here which I expected happened at my house. One, maybe two or three, person talks, and then somebody else takes their place, either through Bella's own request or because they happen to be in the right place at the right time.

Dessert is delicious as well. Cakes, ice cream, and more quirky dishes that I don't know how to describe. Brigadeiro, a staple Brazilian dessert, is there as well.

Afterwards, presents are exchanged and we go home. Time to hit the hay, because tomorrow is going to be exhausting.

I wake up Christmas Day to the sound of my host father rappelling on the door. It is earlier than I care to know, and I am fighting to keep myself awake. Today is going to be a rather unconventional Christmas. I get dressed in the roupas de viajar, and we pack our luggage and leave for the airport.

I have probably been in the airport more during this past year than I have in my entire life combined. We've at least touched base. I used to hate planes. At this point, I don't care anymore. It's a plane.

At the airport, we meet one of the Aunts, who is flying to Rio and then flying to New York/New England/Vegas to visit her old host family (she went to the United States and we placed in Massachusetts, I think. East Coast - represent!) and promote a program for UNICEF. So, um, if anybody is interested in coming to Brazil and volunteering with UNICEF...

We get on the plane. My host mother has a philosophy that the window side is the best - it's hard to argue with that - and so Rapha and I are behind them, in window seats, watching Fortaleza as it recedes into the distance and is blocked from view by the giant cotton balls of the sky. During the flight, I read. There's a book in French that I bought at the bookstore, since I am forgetting my French. Oddly enough, I can read and understand it just as well as always, but when I try to speak, I have to think more, and it mixes with Portuguese. The book is titled J'aurais Préféré Vivre, just in case anybody cares.

Eventually, after a good three and a half hours, we land in Rio. I cannot believe it. We are in Rio. Rio de Janeiro. That city with Copacabana Beach and the beautiful mountains and Sugar Loaf and Christ the Redeemer Statue. Yes, that city. Plus, they made a movie based off of it. Have you see Rio?

The first three days blur by in my memory, (thankfully, I journaled about them) but we spend them in Rio. We stay in the apartment of one of Mae's cousins, about 2.5 blocks from Copacabana Beach.

We spend the first day getting to know Rio, I suppose. It is already the afternoon by the time we arrive, and the place is alive and kicking. Besides the atmosphere of the beach itself, there are people everywhere - people walking with their dogs, jogging, breakdancing, trying to sell things to tourists - lots of activities. We eventually end up at Mass, and that ends the first day.

It is here I note that normally, mass is at night. Sunday night mass. Christmas night mass.

On the second day, it rains. Again. It is here that I'm going to note that I shut down when it rains. I totally shut down. I get headaches before the rain, and then I'm usually in some kind of comatose, zombified state for the first bit of the downpour. It depends, although I haven't figured out why. Just to clarify, I am a human barometer. Yay fun.

We eat breakfast in the apartment (Brazilians never go out for breakfast) and head out for a full day of shopping. I still have not decided if the decision to leave my wallet at home was good or bad. On one hand, I really don't trust myself with a debit card in the malls of Rio de Janeiro, but on the other hand...

We hit three malls. The first one is absolutely colossal and has literally everything, including a second copy of some stores. Rapha points out a soccer player - it is Rio, after all - and we are on our way. At the exit, one woman is absolutely distraught because she is separated from her 3-yr old son, and looks ready to tear the world apart with her own two hands. I hope that the police found him.

We hit a second mall - the selection of stores here aligns more to my taste than the other - but it is for the chief and express purpose of finding an ice skating rink. I think this goes without saying, but ice skating isn't exactly a conventional activity in Brazil. I actually might have been better than some of the other people there. Unfortunately, the ice skating rink won't open until 5:00 - it is a little past 2:00 now - and so we are on our way.

The third mall is a fashion mall. I haven't the slightest idea how this distinguishes it from any other mall with choice clothing brands, but I don't ask. This time, the item on the agenda is a movie, but we ultimately decide against this, and so we head out.

We park back in front of the apartment and walk to Copacabana Beach, this time to the end, until we reach a fort that has now been converted into a mini-museum. Rapha and I break off to explore and take pictures, but he goes back before me. On my way back, I run into this group of guys speaking English, and I plaster a silly grin on my face and am totally like, "Yo, dudes! I speak English too!" And they look at each other, confused - so maybe it wasn't English - and it is all I can do to not fall to the ground and laugh. Instead, I walk back, calmly.

That was really bad. I'm just a bad example. Don't do that.

We head back along a strip of the beach that caters mostly to selling things to tourists. Mae, Pai and Rapha are occupied, but I am not in the mood, and so I find myself a tree and wait. There is some guy who tries to sell me popcorn (or at least, that's what I think it is). At first, I ignore him, but he doesn't get the impression that I am not interested in his probably-delectable popcorn. So what do I do?

I made The Face. If you have never seen the Jenna Marbles video "How to Avoid Talking to People You Really Don't Want to Talk to", this will probably not make sense. So Google it. Just be warned that there is some language. But for those of you with reservations, it looks a little something like this:

[And like I said, pictures later! Desculpa gente. :P]

At first, he doesn't know what I'm doing. I just stand there, motionless. Then, after a few seconds, he starts laughing. I just stand there. Eventually, he takes the hint and leaves. Seriously. Works every time.

That is also really bad. Don't do that either. I am just in a really weird mood today.

We eat dinner at a small place on the side of the corner. I get a cheeseburger and acai - needless to say, I am completely satisfied. And it is on the corner of the street of the apartment. The apartment is right next to a supermarket. Right next to a supermarket. That is so cool. I honestly don't think I'll live in the city when I'm older, but if I do, Rio definitely makes the list of potential candidates.

Day Three is overcast, but not rainy. asdfghjkl

We go to a museum on the history of Rio and Brazil, and I find some people from France. Sadly, I cannot make out what they are saying besides the obvious words - 'sont', 'tres', 'je', etc - and that one of them speaks Portuguese. That, and they have heavy accents, so I automatically know that I'm hearing legit French people. That, and I ask. At the moment, when I speak, my French is a weird mixture of French and Portuguese...like Portuench...or something.

We then go up to a point on one of the mountains and get some amazing shots - it is the same height as Sugar Loaf, minus the fee and atmosphere - and I can see the smaller satellite cities. We are that high, and Rio is that big. It's amazing.

Afterwards, we go take the trip to see Jesus, but he's chilling in the clouds today. So no, I do not get to meet Jesus today. But eventually, I will. Now I have a legit reason to come back.

We go to another mall, and this time I have my money. I buy a purple button down shirt for R$89.50, which is equivalent to $55.35 at the time. This is actually not a bad deal, since the model is new and the same shirt would have costed me anywhere from $40-$60 in the US. And I like it, so there's that too. But generally, clothes in Brazil are much more expensive than clothes in the United States. I am coming to appreciate that the US is a cheap place to spend your money. The catch? We have high taxes, or we get paid less by the hour, or something. I have yet to figure it out.

There is a lake around which we go biking, and in the middle of this lake there is a large Christmas tree. I am completely and utterly confused as to how I did not pass the Christmas tree (I thought it was at the other side, silly me) until I reach the point where I started, and then my brain puts two and two together. It was a long day, alright? Don't blame me.

The entire distance around the lake is 8km, and this is the first time I pick up a bike in 5 months. Also, no helmet. Please, parents at home, don't kill me. (My Dad was a paramedic, and they're both nurses. Helmets are mandatory under pain of death.) I asked for a helmet, and they laughed at me.

We go to bed early, because tomorrow, we are going to Paraty.

This story can be broken into four different parts - Christmas, Rio de Janeiro, Paraty, and Reveillon, hence the title. Christmas is the first two days, Rio de Janeiro is the second through fourth days, Paraty takes the next three, and Reveillon is the final two. So if you desire a water/bathroom/popcorn break, this is where I recommend you do so. We are halfway done, give or take.

Paraty is a historic city on the Costa Verde, or Green Coast, of the state of Rio de Janeiro (just like there's a state of New York and a city of New York, fellow Americans). If you are ever given the chance to go, YOU MUST GO. Seriously, it is absolutely beautiful.

It's not your conventional tropical paradise, but that's why I loved it so much. Paraty has a little something for everybody - an old city full of history, interesting architecture, beaches, boats, kayacking, horses - it is impossible to not be able to love this place. I'd even go as far as to say I loved it more than Rio.

Paraty is divided into two areas - the modern district, which is exactly like every other small Brazilian town (therefore, almost nobody cares about it, but you should go there anyway), and the historic district, which is stunning (if not inconvenient at times) and therefore, everybody cares about it. There are several hostels and inns, all relatively cheap, too.

This may be a terrible thing to say, but I don't like seeing modern technology and conveniences in places that don't have modern everything else. I know that's a horrible thing to say, but when you live in a three-room, one-story brick house along an interstate highway in a town so small that it only takes five minutes to drive by...I dunno. It kills the atmosphere and it makes me feel like the place is losing its culture...like the Sinification of Manchuria. Which is why I liked Paraty's historic district, which was cobblestone and colonial. The horse poop in the street is part of the charm.

Speaking of horse poop, we take a tour of the historic district on a carriage, and while we are stopped in front of the church, our horse starts to pee. And this American couple behind us gives it this wide stare, like they've never seen a horse pee before. Is it bad that I now laugh at American foreigners? I can always pick them out. We make absolutely no effort to blend in. Stay classy, United States.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The drive to Paraty takes a while - it is long enough that we stop for lunch in a nearby city, Angra dos Reis, for lunch, and we arrive sometimes in the evening. After confirming our place of residence for the night, we take the aforementioned house and carriage tour. Afterwards, we walk around the downtown area. At night, there are lights in the windows, and it is beautiful. It's really very calming.

The second day, we take a small detour to a place that produces cachaca. For those of you who don't know what this is, cachaca is the most popular distilled alcoholic beverage in Brazil, made from fresh sugar cane juice. Pai offers me a tiny amount - like, 2 mL - and so I taste it. I immediately wish I hadn't - it feels like my throat is about the dissolve. This stuff is strong. I don't know how people down it. I really don't.

For the record, this is the national alcoholic beverage of Brazil. I tried it purely for cultural and educational purposes.

Oh, and by the way, there are over 2000 different names that are/were used to describe cachaca. So if you go to Brazil and get some alcoholic beverage of which are you not familiar, chances are, it's some type of cachaca.

We return to Paraty and wander the streets a bit more, this time when it is daylight. We decide to stay at a different hostel tonight, one that is actually in the historic district (our other one was just outside it). I feel like such a Brazilian when one of the monkeys that we saw in Pipa begins to amaze all of the tourists. Yeah, I fed one of those a banana. And he dropped it. And it was adorable. What now, gringos?

At a beach, Rapha and I kayak for about an hour. I am not such a great kayak-er, but I like doing it, if that counts for anything. I separate from him when I see a stork on some rocks and want to get closer. Unfortunately, I scare the stork away.

Today is my five-month mark in Brazil. I cannot already believe that it is five months. Where did all of the time go? I think back to watching the capoeirists at Pipa, or walking the streets of Sao Paulo, and it seems like so much more than four months ago. Almost as if it was years ago.

On the third day, we take a boat trip around the bay and some of the islands. There are a total of 365 islands in the Costa Verde, all with different names. We go swimming and eat lunch and I get this absolutely miserable sunburn on my knees and the back of my hands. It has already peeled (it healed pretty quickly, in just one week) and some of it faded, but not all of it, so it looks like I have some weird skin disease. I do not have a weird skin disease. I just have abnormal peel lines. I swear. That's kind of disgusting, sorry.

Then we drive back to Rio. It is night by this time, and so we arrive and sleep. Tomorrow is New Year's Eve. In Portuguese, this is called Reveillon. Everybody wears some kind of white base (for purity and cleansing, I think) and then you may add other colors for what you want the New Year to bring. No Labor Day here, so it's all cool.

We go to Pao de Acucar in the morning, although there is already a long line, and it is ever increasing. Eventually, we get through (the fee is R$53, or about $30) and hit the cable cars. On the first level, Mae actually sees people that she knows. Only she would find somebody that she knows on Pao de Acucar. I mean, seriously, what are the odds? My Aunt is like this, but jeez, my host mother. She's in an entirely different class.

We go back to the apartment around 5:00 and wait for the arrival of some other cousins. Then, we gather around the couch and sing songs in tons of different languages - Portuguese, English, French, Italian, Latin, Japanese - basically everything that I know, since I don't know any songs in Spanish, for some reason. All kinds of stuff, too, from Ave Maria to Puff the Magic Dragon and Sakura. Then my host father would join in with a song that I don't know, and I just make up some kind of harmony as we go along. If you ever get the chance to do this, I highly recommend it. Music knows no language.

And then go went to Copanabana Beach. It. Is. A. Party. Seriously. I don't think I've ever seen such a lively scene. It's raining, so nobody is running (because that's really unsafe in crowds), but all of the people basically shut down the street. We make out way onto the beach, about five meters from the shore, and watch the fireworks. I have it on video, which I'll put up whenever I get around it to. This is totally crazy. Totally crazy. People are jumping up and down and it is screaming. It is raining, but nobody cares. We are all wearing ponchos, and I have a Disney Princess umbrella (because I'm a princess?). And there are film crews! I want to talk to them, but my host mom doesn't let me. So, whatever, fine. I won't be on national TV. No big deal. Just national TV. And actually, considering how weird I am this week, that's probably for the best.

Almost as soon as we get back, I am in bed, asleep. We wake at 4:30 and head to the airport around 7:00. Our flight back to Fortaleza is at 9:00. I find a lovely piece of mail sitting on the kitchen table, stating my acceptance to Allegheny College. This seriously brightens my day. Then we go and eat beef. I feel like such a Brazilian.

The first thing I notice about Fortaleza is how hot it is. As mentioned, it was cool in Rio due to the clouds and rain. But Fortaleza is just hot. It's not dry and not humid either, just hot. It makes for excellent beach weather, although we do not go to the beach. We sleep and go to mass and then sleep some more.

And thus, the end of that trip.
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Except not really. I never got to see Jesus! This is such a problem. I have to go back. I'm already making plans.

On Reading

2012-02-03T16:02:00.000-05:00

Titled just so I can feel like Stephen King. On Writing. Yes, I realize how self-indulgent that is. Just work with me.

Last night, I finished reasing the translated version of "Hush, Hush" by Becca Fitzpatrick. I'll be honest - I only understood about 80% of what was going on, but I understood all of the major developments (I think). I accurately predicted about two-thirds of the ending. I got lost in the pages for the last ten chapters and forgot I was reading a book.

I picked up new words. I improved my reading comprehension immensely. I took it slow and page by page, chapter by chapter. I looked up important or recurring words that I didn't know. I understand the language a little better.

I'm a visual person. You can talk to me all day, but if I don't see it or write it or visualize it, I probably won't remember it. I map and chart everything (well, if webbing in my head as I go along counts). My thoughts, my experiences, plots from books I've read, song lyrics, dreams - all of it. I have a hard time doing simple math in my head. (Like 149 + 12 or 67 * 3. Like that.) I have a hard time remembering the words to a song unless I look them up. I have to see things.

I have to split, distribute, and add, all on paper. The benefit of this is that it makes checking easier. I can see and understand exactly what I did.

So for me, reading is an important thing to do. It's important to help me learn the language - how can I know what somebody is saying if I've never seen that word before? Important to help me develop connections with people. I love books. My friends love books. And we talk about books.

I know that's really dorky.

One of the things about this exchange year if really learning a lot about myself. One of my aunts is very much into philosophy and nature. I remember, during a family vacation to Maine a few years ago, she would get up to meditate on rocks by the beach and eat unidentified berries that grew along the sidewalk. This isn't craziness. This is a type of self-discovery. While I am not getting up that early to meditate any time in the near future, I do appreciate these kinds of things.

Perhaps this is why I work by association. Give me a word, and my brain spider webs (yes, I verbed that) in a thousand different directions. And it goes from there, and it goes from there. Some may call this Attention Deficit Disorder (disclaimer: I have never been tested for anything of the sort). I call it making connections and taking enlightening detours. Life is all about looking on the bright side. : D

So, if I don't write down my thoughts, lethologica ensues.

I just opened my school binder to the Physics section. We did vectors today. Vectors remind me of Despicable Me. (You need to watch the movie to understand this.) That movie reminds me of a friend from last year, who hosted an exchange student from Portugal. Right now, she's at Cornell. I'm applying to Cornell. I think I need to interview with them. I already interviewed with Middlebury and UChicago, and I'm scheduling one with Georgetown. My interviewer from Middlebury lives in Brazil, and he was a Physics major.

Oh, look. Physics. Back there. But really, this could have gone anywhere. For UChicago, I wrote an admissions essay on how Play-Doh relates to Plato. It's this sort of nonsensical comparison that I am so good at.

Everything we do is relative. You can't isolate any experience.

Before I left, I was a little afraid that this year would seem like a dream. But even our dreams and imaginary worlds are alive in our heads. And there, they're just as real as everything else.

This kind of thinking applies to the language as well. For example, take the Portuguese word "teto". It looks like the French "tête" which you may know from the expression "tête-à-tête". That expression literally means head-to-head, and is sometimes used as a superstitious way to say 'discussion' or 'talk'. You already know that the Portuguese word for 'head' is 'cabeça'. So think abstractly. Your head is the highest point on your body, so 'teto' probably has something to do with being high, or the highest.

It means ceiling, in case you were dying to know.

So, through this, you can see how reading in the language of your host country, even though you aren't fluent and may not understand everything, because that much more manageable. I probably knew only about 50% of the words in that book.

This is a new part of your brain. A new muscle group to target. And with a little work, those muscles get stronger, and it gets easier. And you start to understand more, and remember more words, not just meanings.

Language is comprised of thousands of little keys that fit just as many locks. You have the locks. You need to find those keys. And you need to learn them.

Words are those keys.

How are you supposed to put the key in the right lock, if you don't know which key you're holding? How can I know what somebody is saying if I've never seen that word before?

Once I see it, I know which sound to associate with it. I can visualize it. And I remember it.

That's how I learn.

Just some food for thought.

This is a One-way Door?

2012-02-03T15:16:00.001-05:00

I came to school this morning and noticed that I had forgotten my sweater. The classroom is like an icebox - in Brazil, it seems, it's always hot outside and always cold inside - so I always wear it.

So I went down to the ground floor with the intention of getting it. According to my clock, it was 7:05. I had twenty minutes. Twenty minutes to cross the street, go to the apartment, get the sweater, and come back. Piece of cake.

I was walking quickly and I shouted to the doorman that I was just leaving to get my sweater. And I made for the doorway.

He told me I couldn't leave that way.

What? I thought. What kind of nonsense is this? A one-way door?

He explained that you could only come into the building through this door until it was time to leave, at which point you obviously exited. But if I wanted to leave now, in the morning, before class, I had to use another exit.

Oh. Right. Because that totally makes a lot of sense. Does it matter how I exit, as long as I do so without causing a disturbance? I really hope there's some logical reason behind this.

So, I headed to the other side of the school, and I checked all of the exits that I knew of. And, lo behold, they were locked too! The doorman most likely knew this too, duh. I probably just missed one.

More annoyed than anything else, I made my way back to the classroom. It was still ten minutes before anything was scheduled to start - a lot of kids hadn't even arrived yet. I've left the apartment five minutes before class was due to start and still made it on time.

The reason I'm telling this story is because I don't understand why I wasn't allowed to leave. He knew my intentions. If I wanted to cut class, I wouldn't have come to school, and I certainly would not have left my belongings in the classroom. I would be back before class started. Almost every day, he sees me go to school either wearing that sweater or with it in my arms.

So why is this an issue?

Perhaps it's just a quirk. It might just be the simple reason that once you're in the building, you're not allowed to leave, for whatever reason, until the end of the day. But I don't understand this either, since if I wanted to skip class, I wouldn't have come.

Not understanding. That seems to be the order of the day.

New Year's

2012-01-09T11:16:00.000-05:00

The New Year is always a time for reflection. It's the symbolic embodiment of change - it should be no surprise to anybody that it falls under the sign of Capricorn. It is, well, capricious.

For some reason, I'm thinking about function tables. You enter in a number, and it leaves as something different.

In a way, an exchange year is like a function table.

You go in, however you were formed from the first 15-18 years of your life, and you undergo a process. It's not a process that you even know is happening until somebody points it out to you.

And you change.

I'm not going to lie - exchange is hard. It's really difficult. People speak to you in a different language - one that maybe you've never studied to heard before. You walk into a lot of walls. Many things are different.

Everything that you've ever known is taken away from you as soon as you step foot on that plane. And then you sit in the room for however many hours and you get off.

And you're not in Kansas anymore.

At first, you notice the big differences. The food. The weather. The flora. The sights and sounds.

And you start to feel all of these things - all of this emotions that you don't know how to handle - so many - bewilderment, excitement, engagement, astonishment, wonderment, apprehensiveness, nervousness, impulsiveness, inspiration, degradation, shock, worry, fear, anxiety, conviviality, energy, insecurity, longing, bravery, audacity, adamancy, confusion, inexperience, isolation - and you don't know how to cope.

You lack perspicacity.

And suddenly, it's not that simple. You don't just multiply 'x' by 1.5 and the natural log of the result. Because different people are affected in different ways, and each variable has a unique influence.

It seems spontaneous. As if nothing ever happened. You don't notice. There are no markings on the wall to measure against, to show that you have another two inches under your belt.

You're floating in a vast sea, like the astral world, where everything seems to mesh together.

Time flies by. Did I really do that last week? What did I eat for breakfast? What happened these past two weeks - I don't remember any of it. Time takes its own intervals. You wake you and you find that it's Tuesday, and you can't help but ask yourself, "What happened to yesterday?"

Sometimes, you multiply by 1.5. Other times, by 2. Or 7.2953. Or log6.027^(2*e!).

And you never know.

But once you know it's happening - and you do figure it out, eventually - you begin to worry about it. It becomes an obsession. The little things seem much bigger than they are, because you feel so much smaller than you are.

There is no equilibrium. New chemicals are being added all the time. New variables, new stimulus, temperature changes, pressure changes, volume changes, catalysts - and there are new results. It's not a reversible process.

There's no going back and making modification. You act, and then it's gone.

We let bygones be bygones.

But we can't. We think about over what happened, and we remember what we did, and why we did it, and what was said, and our feelings, and our decisions, and our anticipations, hopes, dreams, fears, anxiety - and we add more to the mixture.

And it goes back in.

New variables, new stimulus. New results.

It's like a cycle.

You know that it happens, but you can't explain it. You can't isolate it at any one time, because each individual change is so small, so minuscule, the tiniest minutiae, that tracking is impossible.

Don't even try.

It's too fast to be a whirlwind of change, because you are acutely aware of every moment. But it's too slow to dissolve or melt or freeze, because you can acutely aware of every moment.

But just as the salted snail knows, you know. Something, anything, is happening.

Sometimes it's difficult.

But that's exactly what you signed up for.

Things heat, things cool, things collapse.

We're in the mountains.

And the ground is so far away.

But at the end of the day, the change is ineffable because you don't know what's different.

This shouldn't be scaring anyone. I'll talk about New Year's when I write about Christmas and Rio de Janeiro.

Until then,

- Jake

Sao Paulo, Birthday, Brasilia

2011-12-16T12:47:00.000-05:00

So, I'm finally writing this! For the sheer reason that we're going to Rio (going to Rio!) in late December, and I'll definitely want to write about that. That, and there's also been a lot of other stuff going on. I stopped keeping a written log of everything a bit before we went to Sao Paulo, so my pictures are going to guide my memory. Luckily, I took pictures of pretty much everything, so this shouldn't be much of a problem.

Sao Paulo, I don't think, is one of those places that everybody has on their travel list. People want to go to places like London, Paris, Rome, New York City, Rio de Janiero, Shanghai, Tokyo, Jerusalem, Sydney, etc, etc. I think that Sao Paulo belongs on that list of 'cities that don't get nearly as much hype as they deserve', like Xi'an, Istanbul, Boston, Buenos Aires, Santiago, Athens, Seoul, Oslo, Vancouver, etc. It's a beautiful city.

If you haven't planned on going, well, you should probably fix that.

We flew into Sao Paulo late at night (or was it early in the morning?). I should mention here that Sao Paulo was Bella's departure city, and that was the reason we were there.

We stayed with Mae's sister, Manula (but we just called her Manu). To put this in perspective, her apartment was about three blocks from the Sao Paulo equivalent of 5th Avenue.

Meet Manu!

First, since it was a holiday, we went to a museum...or, we planned to go to one, but got there too late and decided not to wait for over an hour to get in. But we still looked around the gardens and the monuments, which were really cool.

And that's the museum. The whole, grand thing.

In a lot of ways, since Sao Paulo reminded me of Washington DC. For those of you who have been, remember all of the little monuments? I'm not talking about the Lincoln Memorial, but the little monuments you see scattered around that area of DC. Sao Paulo has those.

And those museums? They go hard.

There were also some bigger ones; grander, more majestic, the kind that people tend to gather around because the planning was exquisite and wonderful, and the details and minutiae are carved with a stunning amount of patience and care, and the overall presence of such a magnificent structure is something rather alluring and attractive to the passerby.

Manu showed us around the city (accidentally including the ghetto, which was extremely terrifying - GPSes around the world really need to learn to block those routes). With Mae, I went to the downtown area, which was, well, downtown. Manu told me not to go, if that's any indication of how it was. Basically, it was what most large, urban city downtowns are like. Crowded, impossible to get on the metro during rush hour, etc. General city stuff.

However, we did take a taxi to a cathedral and saw a couple of the other structures.

And this guy. "Senhor que quereo que eu faco?" means
"Sir, what do you want me to make?" If memory serves, he was
one of the founders of the city.

The cathedral was beautiful. Ironically, we got there about fifteen minutes before mass started, so we were stuck until it was over. ("You went to Church!?" my brother asked.)

The next day (or later that night...I'm a bit fuzzy on the exact details) we went to see Mamma Mia!. Yes, the smash-hit musical based off of ABBA songs. Thankfully, I've seen the movie so many times that I basically have the script memorized (it's kind of pathetic), so I knew exactly what was going on. Of course there are differences between adaptions, but we musical theatre nerds are always prepared for that sort of thing.

I mean, really, what else did you expect?

But anyway, we went to this really nice theatre and had great seats. I was really interested to see how they would pull off all of the different roles, since it's an American musical that takes place in Greece, so it's obviously more American than Greek.

I observed the same kind of thing - there was a distinct Brazilian air to the adaption, which I thought was really neat. It was like...the Brazilian version of Greece as opposed to the American version of Greece, I suppose. The woman who played Donna, Kiara Sasso, was excellent. Truly, the entire cast was excellent, but she stole the show. She really did.

At the end, they did an encore and sang some of the songs in English. Manu, Mae and I were all singing along and Bella was like, really? We're gonna do that?

Saturday was the date of Bella's departure. She woke up and looked at Mae. Mae looked back at her.

Another pneumothorax. For those of you who don't know what that is, a pneumothorax is essentially a collapsed lung resulting from the formation of an air bubble. So, when you go in a plane, that air bubble expands...and I shouldn't have to explain it any further

Luckily, the hospital at which Manu works was only two blocks away from the apartment, and they did the same thing they did before. We ended up returning to Fortaleza that night and Bella went through the proper surgery this time. However, this meant that she would be leaving in October, and not with everybody else from Brazil.

Needless to say, she was not happy.

Happily, she is finally in Germany, having a great time with her host family.

Alright, time for a cheerful subject, my Birthday!

I actually had three birthday celebrations on the same day, which was wonderful (this was possibly because I am, among other things, wonderfully efficient). In school, my friends brought me a giant cupcake (and let me rephrase that - a GIANT cupcake - seriously, I was like, "Thank-you so much! But um, how do I eat this?") and sang. In the middle of the school.

It was break time. This was allowed, and it wasn't unlike what happens in the cafeteria at my old school. No, strike that. It was more boisterous, but that's because there wasn't nearly as much white noise. This stuff is relative.

But still, it was really fun, and when I wasn't puzzling over how to eat my cupcake, I was laughing. Probably bent-over, on-your-side laughter, but still laughter.

Then, when our Geometry class came, we all sang Happy Birthday to her, as her birthday had been the preceding day.

I suppose everybody was in the mood!

That night, my family and I went to the same restaurant that we went to my first night here. Ladyjane was there as well, and so was Laura and Elif. One of the AFS counselors/volunteers, Julia, came as well. AFS Fortaleza is very much a participant in what we do. By that, I mean we organize things through them, they invite us to do stuff, etc. Even though we live all over the city.

I had a chocolate cake, in case you were wondering. It was delicious.

Clearly, I was happy.

That night, I Skyped with my family. One of the perks of being a twin is that, even when you're away from your family, you can Skype with them and see the cake. (Because that's what birthdays are all about, right?) My brother told me that our FLEX (read: homeroom) threw him a party (and me too, although I obviously wasn't there).

In some ways, it was very bittersweet, as this was my first birthday without them (and my brother!). But it was also nice to see that they're getting on just as well without me. My father spilled cake all over my mother's keyboard, if that's any indication...

That said, as it had only been a bit more than a month, I didn't start to miss everybody (sorry guys). I was still drinking in the high of being in a bunch of new surroundings. Of course, not everything was great...school was boring because I didn't understand anything, I was still adjusting to the family life, etc, etc. But, they say that anything difficult is worth doing. I'll let you make your own implications from that.

I also saw my dogs. Is it a bad thing that I miss them more than my actual family? Does that make me a horrible person?

Regardless, let's talk about Brasilia.

Bella left for Germany a few days before we went to Brasilia. Mae and I flew in a day before Rapha, who had the Brazilian equivalent of midterm exams. I didn't take the exams. Lucky me!

Difficult to see, but the two white towers at the end, and then
the two buildings on either side of them, from a political triangle
not unlike the one we have in DC...except they're much closer.

Brasilia is the capital of Brazil. It's a planned city, so in theory you would never need to leave your small area. The blocks contain restaurants, cafes, clothing shops, supermarkets, etc, etc - everything necessary to sustain modern life.

Guess what this is!

After breakfast, we went to an outdoor market and took a ride to a lookout point, where I got some great pictures.
Then we headed back, went to lunch, explored the marketplace, etc. Brasilia is very, very dry (and hot), so almost everybody drinks a glass of water before leaving the house.

Every inch a modern city

And speaking of water, did you know that you're supposed to get at least 8 glasses a day? Brazil is so much hotter than the US, so I just drink it mindlessly. I probably go through 20 cups a day, easily.

But regardless, a few days later Rapha and I met Manu at her the JK Memorial. For those of you who don't know much about Brazilian history, JK, or Juscelino Kubitschek (that's a Czech surname, not Portuguese) was the president of Brazil during 1956-1961, and was the guy who decided to construct a new capital, guess, Brasilia.

After the memorial, we walked to the Office of Foreign Affairs - where all of the foreign heads of state meet to discuss politics and whatnot. It was a very classy building - a mix of contemporary and historical.

Office of Foreign Affairs! Which we toured. That one.

After taking some photos and reading about the building itself, we exiting to find ourselves at the back of a growing protest.

This protest.

And then I said, "I like protests," and Manu eyed me weirdly, as if to say, "What did you just say?" It was one of those you-know-what-I-meant moments.

I suspect that people in capital cities everywhere protest around government sites. Washington D.C. does it too.

We then got picked up and went our separate ways. Later that day, we went to visit the iconic cathedral of Brasilia. It seriously is iconic - whenever I saw a souvenir shop, there were always a few repeating motifs: this cathedral, the bridges, and the Congress building.

This one was absolutely magnificent inside,
and there were statues of the gospelmakers outside.

There was a mass going on, so I thought it would be rude to take pictures, but there were carved angels hanging from the ceiling, and the entire cathedral had this very modern and classical feel to it.

In fact, that's how I'd describe Brasilia. It's very modern, but it's also very Brazilian and very historical at the same time.

Since this was my third time flying into Fortaleza, it felt pretty regular. The first time I was with Alex and Laura and very nervous, the second time I was with Mae and Bella, and this time I was with Mae and Rapha. The route from the airport to the apartment was more familiar.

In fact, a lot of things feel familiar now. Like I never did all of those things back in the US. It's not routine anymore.

I can't believe it's been four and a half months already.

To Defeat the Culture Shock

2011-11-08T15:06:00.000-05:00

Ten points if you got the reference. I figured a happy Disney musical reference would set the tone for this post. (It's Mulan - "Let's get down to business/To defeat the Huns...".)

Culture Shock, as defined by AFS in their:

AFS-USA Guides and Orientations
The AFS Guides for Participants Going Abroad with AFS
Copyright September 2009, AFS-USA, Inc.

(doesn't that look like a mailing address?)
...actually isn't explicitly defined, so I'll give what they mention (pg. 50):
"...it is easy to imagine how frustrating it might be for you not to be able to communicate as well with others as you would like, especially in the beginning of the experience, or the sadness you may feel as a result of being away from your family and friends. These intense emotions are signals that you are learning and growing in many new ways as you strive to adjust to your new surroundings. We refer to this as 'culture shift.'"

Then it goes on to explain some other aspects, such as everything being an effort, feeling critical of host country/community, longing for familiarity of home, isolation,discomfort, and physical manifestations.

AFS also has a nifty list of things to do to help with Culture Shift on the next page (pg. 51), which I've paraphrased below:

Recognize that low periods are common when you are living in a new culture/away from home
Look to your immediate surroundings for support
Share with your hosts/friends something that you do at home/your culture
Establish good sleeping habits
Limit contact with home
Exercise (preferably with the people in your host community)
Help other people!
Learn about the host community
Focus on making the most of your experience

Some things that AFS didn't mention that I found helpful were:

Get involved in your host community - my school had us do a play in English (my class did Scooby-Doo), so it was a nice change of pace for me to attend those rehearsals. Plus, I actually felt useful since I understood what was going on half the time (when they weren't speaking Portuguese). That, and I like theatre anyway, so it was a nice breather, a good way to connect with my classmates, and a way to share what I like to do at home.
Take a "gringo day" - I went to Beira Mar (the city beach avenue) with Alex, Elif and Elif's host sister (Laura had school). We ate ice cream, and since Elif's host sister doesn't speak English, I was forced to speak Portuguese to her, and I actually did pretty well. It was the first time I actually thought I could get the hang of this whole functioning-in-another-language thing. Definite confidence boost. We also ate ice cream, went to the mall, took possibly-offensive touristic pictures (read: imitating statues) and walked a lot by the beach, all of which are simply fun.
Present your home - one Saturday morning, I presented Westminster to an international club/organization/association/group/I-don't-know-exactly-what-it-was at my school, and the kids and teachers were genuinely interested. The concept of a historical small city with old buildings and nothing over three stories where people lived in houses on 1/2 acre lots or greater and had a large amount of community involvement with the two high schools and the two colleges was simply fascinating to them. It was like describing Santa Clause to a small child. So while I thought Westminster was mundane, they helped me see that it's actually a pretty cool place, and I didn't miss it as much because now I knew how to look at Brazil in the same way.
Eat food! - I have an unhealthy (?) addiction to juice/smoothies, so I drank lots of juice of the indigenous fruits (caja, tangerine, acerola, passion fruit, orange, etc). Acai, which is eaten/drank in a sort of gooey smoothie, is also really good. And it makes your tongue purple. Bonus points for purple tongues.
School - I officially started being graded last week, so I've been diligently studying (read: vehemently agonizing) and I've found that it's paid off, because now that I'm more like a normal student, the kids in my class have an easier time relating to me.

But still, I stand by my belief that laughter is the best medicine.

I am also a firm believer in hybrid concepts. So, I thought, for this fortuitous moment, I would introduce/elaborate upon the American concept of the "fail".

This is an example of the "Fail".

(See the above: sharing your culture)

Let's start this with some culture-education. In Brazil, people generally wash their own underwear in the shower. Kill two birds with one stone, right? You shower AND get clean underwear. Talk about efficient. Well, this was a ritual that was irritating me, because then you have to hang the underwear in the shower to let it drip-dry, and then you have to come back and wring it out to make sure it doesn't shrivel and become starchy and uncomfortable. It made me long for a dryer. (See Culture Shock: feeling critical of host community, longing for familiarity of home, and effort.)

The bathroom, as I mentioned in an earlier post, has a single window "shaft" that provides ventilation. Usually, when you take a shower, you close the window (which is conveniently located on the shower wall), and then you open it again when you're done to let all of the humid air filter out. Thus, the shower window is open before you enter the shower.

(I'll upload a picture later once I buy new batteries for my camera)

It's simply too much effort to open the shower door with the underwear in hand and then take a shower. It's much more fun to toss the underwear over the shower door and into the shower.

You see where this is going.

So I threw it, in quite a happy mood, and it sailed over the shower door and made a beeline for the window. I dashed towards the window, hoping that made it had been caught on the ledge or the latch on the panel.

No such luck.

Being a logical person, I find that we can resort to mathematics to explain any situation. And there it was - somehow, I missed it - the infallible equation that I had circumvented for the previous three months:

Throwing underwear + open window + apartment building + force of gravity = underwear in parking lot.

Cheers.

I quickly dressed and rushed down to retrieve it (thankfully we're only on the 3rd floor, so it took all of thirty second to reach the ground floor) and then cautiously returned to the apartment.

This ranks as one of my bigger fails.

Just imagine that awkward kid dashing up the stairs with a pair of boxers in his hand. Wouldn't you love to know that story? Now you do. I promise, apartment building, I did not throw my underwear out of the window on purpose. That's weird, even for me.

So yes, lesson learned. Underwear fails. They get me every time.

Let's add to the list of ways to cope with Culture Shock: combining hilarious aspects of American culture with frustrating aspects of your host culture. Now, every time you go to do this previously frustrating thing, you will begin laughing at your previous fails and it shall no longer be frustrating.

Just don't break anything. I'm not responsible if you choose to follow my advice. Consider this a disclaimer.

Since I'm on a roll with corny funnies in this post, here's a lame joke (stolen from one of my friends):

What kind of flowers do you have on your lips?

...Tulips! (Get it? Tulips, as in, tu - lips, or two lips?)

That was so not funny.

This is Jake, signing off.

Três Meses!

2011-10-29T15:50:00.000-04:00

Today, October 29th, 2011, is the three-month-mark for my stay in Brazil.

For those of you who don't actually know me personally, this doesn't seem like quite the shock.
For those of you who do personally know me, this is quite the number.

Three months. Already. Já.

The funny thing is, I'm still in the adaption phase. I'd think that after three months my brain would actually start processing the differences/changes. No such luck. My intellectual self understands these differences perfectly, but my subconscious/whatever self apparently doesn't. Thankfully, my skill at eating pizza with a knife and fork has improved, although only in the most unfortunate of times (read: most of the time) does the fork slip on the plate causing the pizza to nearly fly away. But that's usually funny, so it's allowed.

Money
I went to the mall the other day to buy index cards and a notebook and spent 20 reals. I was like, "What? I spent R$20 on index cards and a notebook?" And then I remember that R$20 only goes as far as about $10, so then my panic subsides. And honestly, I don't even remember how much three packs of index cards and a notebook costs in the United States. I have, however, been actually trying to calculate my finances, and I'm definitely spending more than I would at home. But that's because I live in the city and actually have places to spend my money.

English
I'm losing English. Seriously. When I type I'm making more typos than normal. I still retain all of the specific rules/quirks of the language (don't end sentences with prepositions, subject-verb agreement, adverbials, etc, etc), but I have to look more carefully to make my English more correct.
My vocabulary is also shrinking. I was reading a book and saw the word "penultimate", and I recognized it, but I couldn't remember the meaning. For those of you wondering it's the second-to-last thing in a sequence. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is the penultimate Harry Potter book.

School
I am finally starting to get real grades in school! On Monday I have a Physics test...yeah. I understand everything that goes on during Physics class because I had AP Physics, but I can't do the problems unless I guess how to do them. Angel of reflection equals angle of refraction, then we complete the triangle, then I think you take the sine of this.... It's not that I can't do Physics, but it's that I can't do Physics.
I now know everybody in my class by name (or I think I do), which is good, and which brings me to my next point.

Portuguese
It's improving. A lot. (This is good.) I can understand people much better, although speaking is still more difficult. I find that it's easier speaking Portuguese with people I know don't speak English...I think that's somehow psychological. Generally, this means with AFS and the select few kids in my class that don't speak English very well. There are two girls in my class that I understand almost perfectly, although I'm not entirely sure why, because I don't talk to them any more than with anybody else. I'm also understanding more of our lectures, save for Philosophy and Mathematics. But History? I gotcha covered. There's one class that covers all of my history jokes and I have to make an effort to restrain myself from laughing. The best part is, since I've already had this material, I understand it. I suppose my brain fills in the holes.
I have excellent reading comprehension, but listening is much more difficult. But we're making progress. Those index cards I mentioned? Vocabulary words. I need to get more...

Momentum
My life has slowed down a bit. Ironically, I barely remember anything from the past month. The first month is fraught with vivid memories, but the past month blurred by. Funny how, when you're in constant motion, your memory performs better, but when you try to take things one at a time, it fails. My internal timeline is becoming kaput.

Tonight I'm planning on going to the movies with the other exchange students to celebrate our three-month milestone, but my calls aren't going through. I can never understand anybody over the phones here in Brazil, although I'm not sure why. I shoulder probably figure out how to work the volume controls.

Hopefully, this is going to be the end of me neglecting this blog. I still have to talk about Sao Paulo, and that was a month and a half ago. Good thing I still remember that!

Tchau vocês.

Aula de Portugues, School, One Month, Soccer, English Video, Bella, Rapha's Birthday, Beach Houses

2011-09-19T19:29:00.005-04:00

And so week four coverage begins! And sorry guys, no pictures in this one. Just words. Many times 10^28592065203449187352 words. And then some.

Sunday night Mae said that she talked with the AFS coordinators about a Portuguese class to help us exchange students learn Portuguese. So I figured, why not? If it involved improving my Portuguese, it was probably a good thing. So every Monday and Wednesday at 12:00 I've been leaving school and going to class.

The class is on the other side of town at the Universidade Federal do Ceara, so guess how I get there? No, seriously, guess. What kind of public transportation do they have in the city?

And if you guessed Subway, you are so wrong. Buses, baby. Fast, crazy, dirt-cheap, big, fat, wonderful blue buses. All the way.

And so, I began Monday like any other school day - I went through my usual routine and headed off for school a good twenty minutes before class started. It's a habit - although classes don't start until 7:20, and class usually doesn't start for at least five to ten minutes after that due to the teacher setting up on the board, I still feel like leaving the apartment at 7:10 is running late. I suppose that's an old habit from back home.

I still don't have a student's card for my school, so I can't scan it to be granted access to the school. Fortunately for me, there's a door. Most kids get driven to school, but a lot also take the bus. And finally, there are kids like me who walk. At first, I was really excited about walking to school, because I never liked many people on my bus in the US and the kids that walked home from school had more social time with the people that lived near them, and sometimes they wouldn't go home immediately. Here, it's the exact opposite. Everybody rushes out the door as soon as the last bell rings and if you can walk home, you race across the street, traffic permitting, and you go. If you take the bus, you wait for your bus. If your parents drive you, you whip out your cell phone and call them and try to figure out where they are amidst the street congestion. If they aren't there, you go wait on the corner and chill with all the other kids who's parents have't picked them up yet. Maybe you buy ice cream or get acai or something. It's definitely more social.

And nobody ever walks home together. It's rare.

The school day began like a Monday, so my schedule was as follows:
7:20 Logical Mathematical Relationships
8:10 Composition
9:00 Composition
9:50 Break
10:25 Chemistry I
11:15 Logical Mathematical Relationships
12:05 Algebra
12:55 Go Home

It's a rough day. Logical Mathematical Relationships (which I've just termed Logic...keep in mind these classes are named in Portuguese and I don't know what the names are, so I've just named them based on the material we've been doing) makes absolutely no sense to me and is probably the most confusing and most-critical-for-understanding-the-concepts-and-applications-of-higher-mathematics excuse for a class. Ever. Like seriously, this stuff is important. The teacher is an eccentric but really fun guy - I like the teacher, but I dislike the material. And of course, hard math plus mornings plus foreign language plus Monday equals...well, you should be able to figure that one out on your own.

Composition class is next, taught by one of the few female teachers (most of the teachers here are male), although it's more like a Grammar class with writing than it is a composition class. We did a few lessons on how to write an essay in the beginning of the semester and then we just learn weird grammar, like when you put an accent on "a". Here are some of my favorite prompts so far (translated to English):

Discuss sexual relations.
How do social networking sites affect relationships?

I get that this material is all relevant to our lives and is important, but do you really want to read all of this?

Composition is two blocks, so it's a whopping 100 minutes. (That's too long to be learning grammar.) I like this teacher too, because she teaches me Portuguese and she's from Sao Paulo, so her Portuguese is very clear and phonetic (why isn't phonetic spelled with an "f"?). She also gives off a no-nonsense vibe, let's let's get down to business. I feel like she asserts herself very well.

Then we get a break. Remember recess in Elementary School? That's basically what this is, except we don't go outside. We can eat (we're not supposed to eat in class), go to the gym and play soccer, socialize, see teachers (if they're haven't left or have already arrived), get photocopies made, and etc. It's basically free time. However, we can't be in our classrooms. Oh, and I should note that almost nobody studies. Sometimes people do, but usually they don't. I usually spend break talking with some of the kids from my class, learning and practicing my Portuguese and learning about them and the country.

Chemistry is taught by a guy who speaks some English. I like the class particularly because after almost getting an A in AP Chem (it was an 89.2%...so close!) and passing the AP Exam (with a 3, but still passing), I feel like I can do Chemistry. Depending on what he feels like/what lesson plan he has (that's a joke...I haven't quite figured out how they do those--half the time they memorize their plans)/what we didn't finish last class, we'll do either Electrochem (Oxidation/Reduction) or Acid/Base/Stoichiometry. Both of which are easier than they were in AP Chem, even in a foreign language, so all is good. I also like him because he always asks to make sure I understand what's going on and to pronounce things in English, at which point I try to respond in Portuguese and make conversation.

Speaking of Portuguese, right now (week 7) it's pretty good for only seven weeks, especially compared to what I've been reading on other blogs with exchange students commenting on their foreign language. I suppose having taken four years of French from one of the best language teachers in the USA (and no, I don't say that just for the sake of saying it - her students have the test scores to prove it...and no, before you ask, I never actually took this test, so that has absolutely no reflection on me) and being basically competent (notice how I didn't say proficient) in a second language (especially since it's really close to Portuguese) is really helpful, because my brain doesn't need to make new connections - it needs to draw upon what's already there and then elaborate upon it. If you're planning on going on exchange, I highly suggest talking as much of one language as you possibly can. Don't take a smattering of languages, because the more difficult things in any language aren't touched upon in the first two or even three years of study. Try to get in four or more years - that's my suggestion.

It's also weird to put a time on it. These have been the longest seven weeks of my life. Every day seems like an event, even now that I've established a routine.

Anyway, back to school.

For our fifth class, Logic guy comes back in for another doozy of math. Same old, same old.

I don't like my sixth class, Algebra, partially because the class is a review of what I learned years ago and it's difficult to feel fully engaged in something I already know how to do. Also partially because it's at the end of the day and I want to go home, and also partially because it's math.

Every Monday my class has tests that we're supposed to go to (at the school), although I don't go to them yet because I don't speak the language very well and it would just be a waste of everybody's time. I'm going to start the tests pretty soon, though, especially since I my Portuguese is getting to the point where I can read most things and I need a transcript from the school for college applications.

The Portuguese class (yeah, remember reading about that like an hour ago?) started at 1:30, so I had reason to leave school by noon and hightail it back to the apartment, wolf down some lunch, get changed and prepared and then hightail it to the nearest bus station and hope I got there before 12:30 so I wouldn't have to wait half an hour for my bus with a lot of other unhappy and impatient people. My bus was Bus 30, which really irritated me because the 0 and the 8 looked exactly the same on the buses, and both Bus 30 and Bus 38 run through my neighborhood. So I have to squint to read the marquee on the top of the bus to pray that I'm telling the correct bus to stop. Sometimes they get sassy and refuse to stop, so I have to wait for the next one. There are about four Bus 30s (that I've counted), but two of them run right behind the other one (and don't ask me why) and so it takes a good 45 minutes for these buses to cycle around the city. When you finally do get on the bus, you have to do it quickly so the door doesn't amputate you leg (and therefore exsanguinate you to death) and you have to grab onto something so them the bus moves (which is when the door is halfway closed, mind you) you don't go flying somewhere or fall on the floor and scream (not, by the way, that this has ever happened to me. Ever.). Then you pay your two reals and try to find a seat and if you can't find a seat, you stand and try not to put your face in someone's boobs or your crotch in someone's face. If the bus isn't terribly crowded, this isn't an issue. If the bus is terribly crowded, it's like trying to get into the Sao Paulo metro after a church service (which, by the way, was an interesting experience) and you probably would have gotten to your destination faster if you just walked, seeing as how you couldn't make it to the front of the bus in time to get off at your stop and then went halfway in the opposite side of the city. Once again, not that this has ever happened to me.

So yeah, the Fortaleza bus service is a necessary evil.

I got to the class at 1:00 (totally not because I thought it started at 1:00 or anything) and saw Laura and Alex and Elif there (and totally not because they all thought it started at 1:00 as well). We waited for a good half an hour before our teacher showed up. She's a student at the college (once again, it's the Universidade Federal do Ceara) and is learning French and English.

We went over basic stuff - the alphabet, the two "to be" verbs, how to say where you're from, etc - before class ended at 3:00. I liked it because it was very personal help and included a lot of speaking practice, something I needed.

Each class we got more and more advanced and did more speaking, and we reviewed everything we learned previously and went on to learn states of being, nationalities, and prepositions, as well as random words. Having a Portuguese teacher that doesn't speak much English is actually really good, although sometimes I had to resort to French to understand her. (Ah, French, you haven't failed me yet!)

This weekend was my one month of arrival in Brazil! I had very mixed feelings. On one hand, I was happy to reach this milestone, and on the other hand, it was a total, "shit, only 10 more months to go!" The day was an emotion high.

That Friday was actually a day where Joao invited me over to his complex (Rapha tagged along) to play soccer and meet some of his friends. When speaking to me, the guys mostly spoke English, although I tried my best to answer in Portuguese and understand what they were saying when they weren't speaking directly to me. I told them Westminster had about 8,000 people and they asked me if I lived on a farm. Nice, guys. They were a pretty chill group of kids, though. I liked them. Different crowd from whom I usually hung out with in the States, but I was already so far out of my comfort zone I was so ready to call it quits on that anyway and take a giant pair of scissors and destroy the entire thing.

That Friday was also the day where Bella got out of the hospital from a pneumothorax - it's basically collapsed lung. We were at the Art and Craft Fair by the beach and (this was Tuesday) she said she felt a pain in her chest, so we went home, and she slept, and the next day she went to hospital. They fixed it and she was released on Friday. And we thought that was the end of that problem.

Saturday was a terribly long day. It was the first time I'd had my Physical Education class (before I hadn't been feeling well or I'd missed it due to vacation), and it was totally different from what I expected. I arrived and there was almost nobody there. The teachers didn't seem to care (I've noticed this a lot - everything seems to be whatever: the culture is more laid back and what would certainly piss someone off in the United States doesn't even warrant a double take here, so in that sense, Brazilians can be much more laid-back and calm), and they tossed us a soccer ball and told us to have fun. I fell a couple of times and actually made a few good plays before we left at 11:00. It didn't seem like two hours, but it was.

Then around 1:30, after a quickly-eaten lunch, I left to walk to Alana's house to work on a film for our English project. We did a film on the Powerfuff Girls, and it's probably one of the funniest things I've ever done in my life. I'll post a link to the Youtube video once it's up, I promise.

Alana's apartment was really different from ours - they had a balcony, so we had lots of space to film. Of course, we didn't start until about half an hour after the last person got there (at 3:15) and goofed off half the time, but we finished it. There's also a wonderful bloopers section of me singing The Lazy Song and doing other weird things. I also sang 'It's Raining Men' (but I'll be the first to say I have nothing on The Weather Girls), but we didn't get that on film. Next time. Espero.

I can't really describe the film. It was just a lot of us having fun with friends and somehow being serious.

Then I got picked up, changed, and went down the block to Rapha's birthday party, which also tripled as Bella's going-away party and my birthday party.

So naturally, as it started at 10:00, I struggled to keep my eyes open and went home around 12:30. It was too late to try to understand Portuguese or even party. My lame parties in the US lasted until 11:00 - and that was really late - before it was time to go home. Reportedly, this one lasted until...much later.

Note to self: power nap needed before parties.

The next week at school went smoothly. I had my class on Monday and Wednesday again and that's all I'm going to say about school in this post. It's the weekend that concerns me.

We went to stay at the beach houses of two people in Mae's circle of friends. Their houses were right on the beach and right next to each other. We spent most of the day at the beach, and I got a really ugly sunburn on half of my neck and really weird tans on my chest and back. Saturday night we were up late and I was exhausted, so I decided to go back to the house we were staying in. Naturally, though, the key wouldn't unlock the door, and although it fit and twisted perfectly, the door was being sassy (or maybe we had the wrong key or something - it worked earlier that day!) and didn't want to be opened. So I was like, "Okay, let me step into your hands and I'll just jump the wall." (Almost everything is Brazil is walled.) So that's what we did, and I successfully made it to the other side and opened the door. I crawled in through a window and got ready for bed.

But here's the best part - Mae left the house by jumping over the wall again. She was on the other side and I was like, what are you doing? She explained that she had to keep the house locked and the gates locked, so she locked everything and went over the wall with the key. And I was like, no, why didn't I just come out through the window, drop one foot to the ground, and close the door behind you and lock it from the inside, and then climb back through the window and lock that from the inside?

Come on now. Common sense. Let's use it. We laughed about that later.

And so that concludes week 5. I've be covering Sao Paulo and my Birthday and whatnot in the present in the next post, and then I'll be updating sporadically (and in much shorter posts) for the rest of my time here. I hope.

Beach House, Coming Out, Pipa, Natal, School, and Survival Orientation

2011-09-18T20:00:00.004-04:00

Gah, I haven't been updating this as much as usual. At the time of writing this, I am two days into week seven (I know, seven weeks, already? :O). This covers weeks three and four. So yeah, waaaay behind. Also, miutos palavras. You have been warned.

Let's start where we left off, ya?

So, Saturday morning Rapha had a friend come over, Leandro. Try saying that with a slight roll in the "r". It's fun, right? Leandrrrrro. The name just rolls right off your tongue. It's one of the many things I like about Portuguese.

Anyway, Leandro, Rapha and I went down to the soccer cage and played a game called gol a gol, where the cage is split down the middle and each person plays both the role of goalie and offensive person. Barefoot. Basically, the point is the kick the ball as hard as you can without busting/bloodying your toenail into the goal (although this was sometimes a necessity when the stupid ball wouldn't go in the goal and you wanted to make the other person afraid to block it just so you could get your goal). The soccer cage is made of poles and nets, and I find its very helpful to aim for the poles in the goal zone so the ball rolls back to your side and you can try again. :) Leandro was consistently winning until I finally beat him (using the above toenail-bloodying method). Satisfied with my victory, I promptly proceed to beat Rapha (we rotated in and out, and at this point I was on a roll). Then, having proven my American superiority (I'm funny, right?), I said I needed to go inside to avoid a sunburn, and I left them in defeat, however insignificant. Haha.

Is that not a beautiful staircase?

Later that day we went to a beach house...it's Mae's uncle's. The house was generally awesome and splendiferous and had a beautiful staircase. I know that sounds weird, but it really did. It was a long staircase, the kind that's ideal for taking Prom pictures and the like on.

And in general, the beach house was really pretty. Here are some of my favorite pictures that I took:

Two beats, side-by-side

The house and backyard

The trees in Brazil are generally friendly

Bella and Rapha in the pool

It's symbolic of something, right? ;P

I can just imagine an old couple sitting in these chairs,
remembering the old days by the ocean...

I enjoy the beautiful simplicity of this picture

Out of the barren sand springs life....

Do you see the stairs?

Dead fish! :D

Stretching to reach the horizon

A praia e muito bonita....

Oh, and the best part? Unquestionably, it was the warm shower water. Heehee. :3

-------------------------------

Monday I was fully unpacked (yeah, should have gotten on that a little sooner...oops) and decided to start wearing my gay pride bracelet to school, partly because that was what I normally did in the US, partly because it was better to be out as soon as possible and partly because it's a token to remind me of the US and something to talk about. It's a rainbow bracelet with a peace sign in the middle.

The attitudes towards gay people in Brazil are so much different than they are in the US. In the US, there's a stigma with being gay - you can't be gay and do this and you're expected to act a certain way and talk a certain way and walk a certain way and we have this [incorrect] cultural understanding that gay people are fundamentally different from other people. In Brazil, there's still that [incorrect] understanding, but it's much less obvious and potent. It's something to laugh at and embrace, not something to shy away from and shun. People just don't care as much (but of course there are obvious exceptions). It's whatever.

United States, you socially backwater country, please take note.

But like I said, more on school later.

-------------------------------------

We had Friday off for Student's Day (yes, Brazil has a Student's Day - isn't that awesome!?) and Monday off for the Patron Saint of Fortaleza (who's saying that religion is worthless?), so it was a long weekend. Guess what I did? Went to Natal,!

Natal is another major city in the Northeast, although its much smaller than Fortaleza. Usually people go by plane, but we went by car. And so we drove.

We actually went to be a beach called Pipa for the first few days. The beach is called as such because when the Portuguese arrived, they saw a rock that looked like a barrel, and the Portuguese word for barrel is pipa, so it was called Pipa. I get the feeling that European explorers are not creative. I mean, come on, Newfoundland? Iceland? Cape of Good Hope?

But, regardless of their names, Pipa and Natal were a lot of fun. We went to the Praia de Amor (literally Beach of Love...it's named because the waterline looks like the top of a heart) but first we had breakfast.

And there were monkeys! I kid you not, there were adorable little monkeys that would come to eat our food. We got lots of pictures of them and the let us get really close. They didn't care. They wanted our food. Haha.

Then we walked to the beach, as it wasn't far from where we were staying. We climbed down this giant rock face to get to the sand, and then Mae, Rapha and I decided to go for a walk. We talked to about how I need to learn Portuguese, how Mae and Bella and Rapha learned English, and other random, totally unrelated things. Eventually, Mae decided to head back, but Rapha and I went on a bit further until we decided to go back, which was good - I was starting to burn (curse my white skin). Then, of course, we practically ran back because I did not want a sunburn.

Mae's friend from Natal, Kelva, came to visit us at Pipa. She brought her husband, Aldaberto, her son Filipe, his girlfriend, and another boy Leo, and his girlfriend. Leo is the son of another of Mae's friends (she has a large social circle); this one is from Brasilia. Kelva also has another son, Pedro, but he couldn't come. Both Leo and Filipe were in college. Pedro is in his last year in HS, although he's two years older than me. In Brazil, when people go on an exchange year (as both Filipe and Pedro did...to Austria and Germany, respectively), they have to repeat whatever year they missed. I am so glad I don't have to repeat my senior year! Although, granted, the school system runs differently in Brazil and they repeat this year out of absolute necessity.

But anyway, my Portuguese was improving to the point of being able to hold a simple conversation, so I spoke with Kelva and Leo's girlfriend, as they spoke very little English. Filipe would sometimes speak to me in English - he's actually an AFS volunteer in Brazil, and he's gone through the exchange program, so he's another great resource for me.

Eventually, we got bored with the beach, so we decided to go off in search of food. Well, let me tell you, there weren't actually any roads, so we went full-out 4-wheel terrain. Jeep style. It was very bumpy and sometimes painful (especially when your head hit the top of the car), but it was definitely fun. There was one part where we needed to ford a river, so we drove onto a raft. At first, I didn't quite understand what was going on, because we were moving and and I was like, wait, something's not right here. But then I understood, and we crossed the river.

Our wheels were wet, so Leo decided it would be a good idea to try and drive up a dune at a 75 degree angle. I totally freaked, especially since we weren't wearing seatbelts, but everyone else just laughed. Brazilians have a very abstract concept of safety, I think. Or I just freak out a lot.

We decided to eat at a nice place along the beach, and Mae and Kelva had the idea of walking along the beach. So we went. There was a place where the water crashed on the rocks and shot upwards. I couldn't get very close because the wind decided it was a good idea to pick up, so we found ourselves in the midst of a (rather painful) water-based sandstorm. I escaped the worst of it, and we had evacuated our beachside table for a more comfortable table.

After we ate, we headed to the Creperia and ate crepes. Because who wouldn't?

The next day, we went to Kelva's house in Natal. There were two soccer games on, although I didn't really care who won or what. I looked at the game upstairs, which was white versus white with black strikes down the sides of their legs, and decided that was too confusing to follow, so I decided to watch the downstairs game. Filipe was there, and we ended up simply talking. Then Pedro came in and Filipe left and I started talking with Pedro. Like Filipe, he was a cool guy, and since he was still in High School and closer to my age, it was really easy to talk to him.

We left Natal Monday morning after breakfast and spent the rest of the day travelling back to Fortaleza. It was a weird experience - coming back. I'd never really though of the city as "home" until then, but somehow driving into the city and by familiar roads was reassuring.

I expected the transition from suburban life to city life to be really unsettling, but I suppose my brain got overloaded pretty quickly and didn't have any trouble with that. Good job, brain.

Me, Rapha, Jeanne, Carlos, Bella

They says that the Northeast of Brazil has some
of the most beautiful beaches in the world

There were monkeys during breakfast! Isn't is adorable?

Yes, I took a picture of the sign

Actually not posing for me!

Got distracted...

Dropped his food...

They stayed like for that a good three minutes.
Staring contest. Ghost Crab vs. Stray Dog

More of the monkeys! I really liked them.

See the baby monkey?

It was rainy, but still beautiful

Eating lunch in Natal

These outfits are traditional cowboy outfits from the
Northeast. They kind of resemble our cowboys.

Rapha's face! Pfft.

Me, Aldaberto, Filipe, Kelva, Pedro, Bella, Rapha

See how high the water is?

Leo and his girlfriend

Then I started my third week of school. School was becoming more comfortable, I was beginning to know know the people in my class not only by face, but also by name, and my Portuguese was improving to the point where I could construct my own sentences and hold a decent-length (simple) conversation while only resorting to strange pantomiming some of the time.

This week, I spent a lot of time with Sarah, the girl who lived in Germany. She's very nice and eager to learn about me and show me about Brazil (she wants to show me Dragao de Mar later). She gave me my first insight into saudade, the Brazilian concept of longing for something. It's a feeling that no other word describes, she said. She was also good at helping me with Physics. In English it was bad enough, but in a foreign language? Um, yeah...solve the triangle, angle of reflection equals angel of refraction, and yeah, I think that's right...

That Friday night we had our AFS Survival Orientation...the one we were supposed to have right after we got here. Way to go, AFS Brazil! The meeting started at 7:00, but I didn't get there until about 7:15 (for social gatherings in Brazil, Bella explained, it's not the norm to be on time). Thus, only Alex (the boy from Germany) was there. Laura (the girl from Italy) and Elif (the girl from Turkey who flew down the night we got here) were staying with the same family due to extenuating circumstances, and they arrived twenty minutes after I did. Then our Orientator (that is now a word - I don't care with Oxford or Webster have to say - I make up words because they're convenient) showed up ten minutes later at 7:45, so we "officially" started the meeting (not that we didn't already talk about relevant material before her arrival). Two of the volunteers/counselors get there later.

The meeting was conducted in English, since everybody spoke some. I say "some" because Elif didn't speak much, but she understood pretty much everything that was said. Laura understood most of the Portuguese because Italian and Portuguese are similar languages. It was generally a lot of fun - despite the fact that there were only four of us exchange students, one visiting returnee (someone who already went through an exchange year) and the volunteers. AFS-Brazil have me the impression that everything works out in the end, and for them, (just because Providence decided they were awesome or something), I suppose it does.

Ergo, they know what they're doing.

The survival orientation was very useful (and funny. "Why do you think you're here?" "To learn how to survive...? Cue rolling of eyes.) and I left with some new ideas and an actual focus of why I was where. What did I hope to achieve - did I have a bucket list? What constitutes an unreasonable expectation? Why did I come? What do I hope to learn, and what can I give to Brazil? What do I want to take back to the United States?

I have a bucket list, and I am constantly adding things to it, but so far here are some of my favorite things -

- Take a gringo day around the city

- Go to a Ceara v. Fortaleza soccer game

- Visit Rio de Janiero, Sao Paulo, and the Amazon

- Go an entire day without any English

- Understand an entire Philosophy class (or any class that's mostly or entirely lecture-based)

- Fail a class (I figured it's a good life experience, right? And since my grades here don't affect anything back home...except college admissions...okay, maybe not such a good idea)

- Learn all kinds of Brazilian dances and music

- Dream in Portuguese (not really something I can control, but still)

- Learn Capoeira (it's like a fight-dance)

- Teach Brazilians the Gospel-Rap (long story about this one...and it can be so not politically correct. That said, it's absolutely hilarious and is probably one of the most fun things I've ever done in my life. If we ever get to do it, I'll post a video, and I will not be saying anything offensive. Promise.)
- Get a tan

Next time, I'll cover the next two weeks until I catch up to the present.

Jake

The First Week

2011-09-01T15:13:00.001-04:00

So, remember how I was saying that my blank stare was becoming my most popular look?

"Como fui o vol?" Mae asked me. She kept repeating it until I used my French skills to guess what she meant. Como sounds like comment, vol sounds like voler, I know that o was a pronoun, and I went out on a limb and guess what fui was went or something like that. And somehow, I was right. So I passed the first test. By the skin of my teeth.

We left the airport (Pai (pronounced pie) went back to work) and I was treated to a first-hand show of how Brazilians drive. Mãe (which is Mom in Portuguese - Jeanne said just to call her Mãe (pronounced my), and I had no qualms about doing so because it wasn't a word I had already associated anything with) was making all kinds of illegal turns and going the wrong way on one-way streets. And of course nobody wears seatbelts in the backseat, so the buckle was under the seat and I was in the middle holding on for dear life.

Yeah, that was fun. : D

Fortaleza (For-tah-lay-zuh) is a medium-sized city, with about 2.2 million people. Of course, to me it's gigantic, coming from the small Maryland town that I come from with anywhere from 6,000 to 10,000 people. I immediately had my country-boy complex, staring upwards at tall buildings and fighting the feeling of induced vertigo. Mãe and Bella talked about landmarks and important buildings as we passed them, but I wasn't really listening - partly because I was getting used to her accent, and partly because I was too enthralled by the tall buildings and all the new surroundings.

View of my school from my bedroom window

We got to my apartment complex, which is right across the street from my school. That's a happy thought.

Then I immediately shelled out some money for a uniform, which we got across the street at the school store. The changing room was kind of open, as it was just a curtain and rod and the curtain didn't go all the way across on either direction and yeah. Privacy is a luxury.

Then I Skyped my mother. It's so much cheaper than calling - if you have the option to do this, do it. It was then that I figured out that the time difference in Brazil from EST is one hour, except for during DST, in which Brazil is two hours ahead - I suppose Brazil decided that because it's a equatorial country, the change in the hour doesn't affect the time the sun rises or sets, so they just nixed it. Good thinking, Brazil. Way to not make your citizens lose an hour of sleep as soon as school starts. Ten points for being smart. ^^

Then we went for "dinner". I suppose they thought it would be a good idea to ease me into Brazil by giving me American food, so we went to a place called "The Burgers on the Table". I said that didn't make sense. Bella got mad (it doesn't need to, she said) and Mãe said that it made sense to them. I still held my position that it didn't make any sense.

In hindsight, that was pretty obstinate of me.

Anyway, upon ordering I was surprised to find that the cost of a simple burger was anywhere from 16 to 20 reals (pronounced hay-eyes). Mãe explained that things in Brazil were more expensive than in the US even with the exchange rate.

Awesome.

So we ordered and got drinks - they only had soda, which I didn't like, so I tried this new Brazilian soda called Guaraná. I decided I liked the flavor, but I don't like the carbonation, so I didn't drink much of it. During this time, Bella put the wrapper around her burger and began eating.

Let me repeat. She put the wrapper around her burger and then began eating.

I asked her, why are you doing that? In Brazil, she said, we generally don't touch our food with our hands.

Mind blown. Obviously, there's the unavoidable slip of the finger, but I couldn't process that. But, I got my sandwich and well, when in Rome...

After we finished, we went back to the apartment and I unpacked. Mãe had two gifts for me - a book with pictures of all the beaches of Ceará and a pair of flipflops with the Brazilian colors - green and yellow. They were a size too big, so Bella said she'd take me to get them exchanged tomorrow morning during the tour of the area that she was giving me.

I decided to take a shower, since I was in dire need of one. So I got in the shower and noticed a couple of key things:

1) The shower glass was entirely clear (so you lock the door...but what if you fall? Not likely to happen, but still : P)
2) There was no fan in the bathroom (but there was a window!)
3) There was no warm water (Mae explained that you didn't need a warm shower in Brazil)
4) The water smelled different (not bad! It just didn't smell metallic like the water I'm used to.)

Yay fun. The water was frigid, and it was probably one of the most difficult experiences of my life. I counted to three and forced myself to jump under, then died a little inside as my spinal cord tingled with the assailing pinpricks of ice. So naturally I jumped right out. However, I was wet enough, so I soaped and shampoo'd up, and then jumped back under to rinse off. The second time wasn't as bad, but it was still intolerably cold.

A few hours later, we hopped in the car and went to meet friends at a place called Coco Bambu.

Bella, Me, Samuel (Lais's Brother, Lais)

When I was emailing my host family, Mãe said that she and Pai were really close friends with about six other families, so I joked that I'd have seven host families and not just one. We were going to meet two of those families.

Lady Jane, Pai, Mae and Lais

Coco Bambu is a fancy pizza place/restaurant with the atmosphere of a beach hut...it was very tiki-tiki. Sand for a floor, wooden tables and chairs, you get the idea. Bella's best friend, Laís, was also there, and she was also fluent in English. Mãe said that she'd take it easy on me during the first weekend, but once school started (Monday D:) it'd be mostly Portuguese.

I took the menu and immediately stared it down to see what I could comprehend. I'd like to say that I won against the menu and the Portuguese, but I lost, and that's kind of pathetic (especially since I knew I'd be here also a year ago...in hindsight, not a good decision). Bella and Laís helped me by translating different words. I decided on something called sucu de cajá to drink, and whatever pizza was ordered.

The cajá juice was really good (sucu = juice) and sweet and kind of tasted like orange (laranja, also one of my favorite words to say). That wasn't so foreign. It was weird for me, of course - anything new tastes weird - but it wasn't so off the chart that it was difficult to register. It was comforting in the way that it was something my brain could put in the category of "beverages that taste like citrus".

Lais doing...something

When the pizza arrived, though, I was shocked. Bella picked up her knife and fork and started eating. I sat there and stared in horror. Brazilians eat pizza with a knife and fork? Crime against humanity. Not really.

But when in Rome, do as the Romans, and I suppose I was a Roman from now on, so I gingerly picked up my knife and fork (the tines were different, I notes, and it was bent at a different angle...Rapha later explained to me that most Brazilian silverware was actually made in Brazil) and began cutting. I immediately noted, sadly, that the butterknife was much duller than the butterknives in the US. Who knew China actually knew what they were doing? Either that, or we didn't get sharper knives, for some logical reason unbeknownst to me.

Then came dessert, which I honestly don't remember. We kids spent the next 30 minutes (roughly) talking. In Brazil, eating is generally a social event, so people tend to linger. Restaurants don't mind, because it makes it look fuller and that's good for business (oh, a lot of people are here, it must be good! Let's try it!). I'm also a really slow eater, so I welcomed the prospect of not consistently being the last one left at the table.

Then we went home and I immediately went to bed. I conked out as soon as my head hit the pillow.
------------------------------------
The next day I woke up early (7:00...it sucked) and lingered around the apartment (which isn't very large...minus the bedrooms and kitchen, the entire thing is only 10x12 paces. However, it was plenty big enough - you have to remember that this was my first experience with staying in an apartment building...I think I've only been in one apartment before) while I waited for Bella and Mãe to wake up. Mãe got up shortly after I did, but Bella took until about 9:30.

How I wish I could have slept that long.

We walked down Dom Luis, which is one of the four main avenues in Fortaleza, and was also 7 car lengths away from our apartment complex. Bella showed me placed to eat, shops, malls, churches, apartment complexes, schools, and the like. Coming from a town where nothing is higher than three stories and only one street is actually urbanized enough to have been called the market in colonial times, it was mind-boggling. My brain couldn't comprehend how much stuff was arranged within an eleven-block radius.

Actually, I've only explored that eleven-block radius doing down Dom Luis. I know that one direction stops at the beach (8 blocks) and that the other side of Dom Luis turns immediately and goes into another section of the city which is more like a highway, but I haven't been down the fourth direction or the direction towards the beach. And at the time of writing this, I've been here for over a month!

Then we went to our beach house, which we spent the weekend at. It's about a half-hour drive from Fortaleza. The countryside of Ceára is very poor. We drove through cobblestone streets with large holes filled with water, past small huts and big, gated houses that people from the city like us lived in.

They house it self have me the impressing that it was mostly meant for sleeping in (there were four bedrooms, a kitchen/eating/TV room, and an auxiliary room off to the side), but there was a patio, a pool, a ping-pong table and several hooks for hammocks.

Oh hammocks. My family in the US used to have a hammock, but it was made for Americans, I suppose (therefore it was an American hammock). The ropes were stretched in placed and it had a base - it didn't hang from hooks. My first experience with a Brazilian hammock (and I have no idea what a plain "hammock" is, so in the interest of being politically correct I'm just going to attach adjectives)? Slightly different. I sat down and immediately capsized, thus the entire hammock swallowed me up. Then I struggled my way out (which was much less difficult than I make it sound) and tried to find the center. Eventually, Mae took pity on me and showed me how to properly use a hammock.

We went to the beach (the sand was much finer) and I tried coconut juice (gross) and Brazilian crabs. They were very watery, but Mãe says they weren't that good compared to what Brazilian crabs are usually like. Whatever. Nothing beats the Maryland blue crab.
--------------------------------------------------
School was...fun. I went in with Mãe and they showed me what class to go in. When I opened the door, everybody turned to look at me. Like, who's the new kid? The person who escorted me explained and then everyone started at me wide-eyed and erupted into applause. Unnerved, I quickly took a seat next to the one person I already knew (we went to the movies the night before...she's the cousin of Bella's friend - her name is Alana).

More on school later.

Since I was already friends with Alana, I started to know some of the other girls. The other girl I was next to, Rebeca (heh-beck-uh), spoke very good English was was my go-to person. Behind me sat Sarah (something like sair-rlah), a girl who lived in Germany for the first ten years of her life and consequently spoke German, Portuguese and also had very good English. In front of me sat Amanda (ah-mahn-duh), a red-haired girl who also had good English and was, until I came along, the only lefty in the class. There was also Bea (Bee-uh), whose name I learned quickly because every time I glanced in her direction she pointed at herself, and another Bea who's very outgoing and also speaks very good English. There was one guy in the group, Augosto (uh-goosh-toe). In total, there are upwards of 44 kids.

Around Wednesday one of the boys approached me (I wasn't feeling very social due to my lack of Portuguese-speaking) and introduced himself as João (similar to Joe-aun) and told me just to call him John. He spoke excellent English and said the rest of the guys were anxious to meet me. Well, then couldn't they come over themselves instead of sending a messenger? Ah, I'm so hypocritical.

Raphael (hah-phai-el) came home Thursday night. His English isn't as good as Bella's but it's way better than anybody's at school. I'd go as far as to call him fluent.

João asked me if I wanted to go watch soccer with him Friday night, so I went and met some of his friends and saw some of our classmates there. Not many people spoke English, so I just talked with him. But still, it was a start.

I noticed that Brazilians are very friendly - I've read some of the other student blogs saying that exchange students didn't feel terribly welcomed into their communities. In this case, it was too much welcoming for me to handle - I've never been such the center of attention in my life. It was a little overwhelming. I'm glad that everyone was so happy and welcoming and open and willing to receive me, and I hope that I can leave Brazil with even better feelings than these. I might have to fight the immigration department about leaving too soon if this continues. Haha. =D

More later.
Jake

The Journey

2011-08-29T21:04:00.001-04:00

Você fala português?

If I had a nickle for every time I heard this question, I'd be an unquestionably rich man. But perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself.

So why don't we start from the beginning?

In the week preceding my departure, my parents (my mother in particular) were stressing about what I should pack. My parents insisted that I pack extra things. Meanwhile, I was more worried about the weight limit on the flight - 44kg. Regardless, I allowed my mother to repack my suitcase and essentially double the allotted space. And despite my efforts to bring less stuff, it was still packed to the brim.

I slept like a rock before I got on the plane for Miami. I mean, like a rock. As in, if you were to take a rock and put it somewhere stable, you'd have a pretty accurate description of how I was sleeping, minus the breathing and all that.

I woke up bright and early and had a good, final American breakfast (waffles!) before heading to the airport with my family. I was generally quiet in the car - I think it actually started to understand that I was leaving. I was torn between "I can't believe this is actually happening!" and "Wtf did I just do to myself?" My sister did most of the talking, asking the silly questions that 13-year-olds ask. I can't even recall them, but based on my previous life experiences, there was probably nothing remarkable said by her. That was a little harsh. My apologies.

My dad helped me unpack at the airport and helped me get through the process of getting my ticket and I learned how to swipe a passport for the first time. Which, by the way, is totally backwards from what they tell you to do.

At this point, I think my parents were a little more worried about my lack of common sense than they were for my well-being. "Don't make jokes in the airport," my mother said.

But I suppose now that I'm out of the airport, I can make jokes. Take that, you stupid airports. I stick my tongue out at you in childish defiance.

I hugged my family as we approached security and we kissed and said good-bye. I was later told that everybody cried, especially my Mom. But hey, that's what mothers do, right? I suppose she knew this day was coming, it was just a year before she planned it. Honestly, my mind was on looking forward. Somebody once said that maybe it's just as hard to leave somebody behind as it is to be left behind. Well, that is a lie. I had so many other things on my mind at the moment that it didn't even register. And the saudade still hasn't set it. Maybe once it does, I'll lie again, because two lies make a truth, or something like that.

But once again, I get ahead of myself. Bad Jake. And in case you couldn't tell, I'm clearly being sarcastic about the extra lying thing.

The Baltimore airport was kind of...awkward. I got to my terminal, which was absolutely crowed, so I had to sit next to other people I didn't know, and of course I was the only 16-year-old who was flying solo, no pun intended. Luckily, I only had to wait a good five minutes before everybody stopped chatting to their nephews about camping trips in Arkansas (strangest overheard conversation ever) and the boarding started.

I was given the window seat, which was nice, because the wing of the plane blocking all of my good picture opportunities only added to my nonexistent bad mood. Screw the plane wing. I'm going to Brazil.

I slept like a rock in this flight too, although it was more like a slightly deformed rock that somebody decided to carve into an awkward humanoid "C" shape, and then gave it the pliability of the human body and placed it on an airplane. Something like that.

Near the end, when I had woken up, the lady next to me (who looked like a mom - she was dressed far from the nines and had a mommish aura about her) asked me where I was going and why I was alone and the like. I told her I was going to be an exchange student to Brazil, to which she replied, "Your adventure is just beginning!"

I like to label that as God's crafty yet much too obvious foreshadowing in the complex web of events that he has specifically planned out for my life. Come on people, God may be awesome, but I don't think he has that much time on his hands. He's got the world to worry about. Get the reference? See what I did there? No? Okay, moving on then...

AFS has sent me instructions of what to do when I got off the plane in Miami, and I followed them religiously. We were supposed to go to the shuttle pick-up area, although I felt that there were several, so I played eeny-meeny-miney-moe to pick one.

And whaddaya know? Moe came through for me.

The instructions left by AFS stated that a shuttle from Embassy Suites would come by ever twenty minutes to pick us up. I think this was a typographical error on their part, as I stood there for a solid 45 minutes before I saw one. Maybe he was on his lunch break or something.

As I sat in the shuttle, I couldn't help but wonder, How many other kids like me have sat in this exact same spot?

I got to the hotel and walked in, expecting to see this majestic, splendiferous desk sporting the AFS logo in the middle of a grand lobby. Instead, I got this shabby desk sporting the AFS logo in the middle of a shabby lobby. Notice the pattern? There was a nervous-looking college student sitting behind the desk, looking as if he just got called to the Principle's Office. Behind him there were four girls. Awesome, I thought. Am I the only guy here?

As it turns out, two of the girls were going to Brazil, so I had friends to discuss the impending doom with. (By this point, I had definitely decided on the "wtf" emotion.) At least, I thought, I wasn't the only person going to Brazil, but I expected more people then just the three of us.

We eventually decided that we were hungry and got some much-overpriced hotel food. I think our ulterior motives were to savor the few moments we had left of paying with American dollars. Eventually, more kids came.

Then we went to our rooms and put stuff away and had the first half of our orientation. There was one other guy - also going to Brazil - so I didn't fell that alone anymore.

Aerial view of Sao Paulo

During the orientation, we played a game where one person was blindfolded and had to find a certain object that was scattered somewhere in the room and bring it back to their team before the other teams. There was one person with their back to the person with the blindfold that could speak, and there was one person who could see the blindfolded person and the object and had to mime directions to the speaker.

In short, it was total chaos, especially considering nobody knew each others voices. Um, yeah, that was fun.

Then we ate food. Food! I hadn't realized how hungry I was. The orientator (I made that word up, by the way - there is no word in the English language of which I am aware of for "one who orientates".) also had brought snacks and drinks for us and said we were welcome to them at any time, and to save some for the flight. Good idea!

The orientation continued in that manner, and we continued the next day, doing icebreaker activities, bonding over food and free time, and discussing all things related to going abroad. I felt really close to this group of people.

At our orientation, there were 14 people - 6 to Paraguay, 4 to Brazil, and 4 to Chile. Brazil and Paraguay were scheduled to fly together to São Paulo, but Chile flew to Buenos Aires or something like that. Either way, we all had at least one more flight.

We got the airport at 4:45 and had some downtime before our flight was scheduled to leave at 8:00. We were at a separate gate from the people going to Chile.

Speaking of Chile, you can read the blog of one of the girls going to Chile, Hannah, here. Although we're both in South America, we're having totally different experiences. I still keep in contact with her on Facebook and such and we argue in Portuguese and Spanish and English and French (which she doesn't speak!) about which country is better. It's fun.

Well, in the true nature of airports, we had a bit of a delay. And in the true nature of my life, this delay was a bit unusual.

We boarded the airplane on schedule, and for the time I was fully aware that I hadn't studied as much Portuguese as I probably should have. Yeah, Mr. Irresponsible here. None of the other people going to Brazil knew any Portuguese either, so that made me a little less guilty, I suppose...

Luckily, all of the flight attendants spoke English, so I tried my polite words on them, messed up, and spoke English.

I also had plenty of opportunities to practice my blank stare. It's become my signature look.

I'm not quite sure of what AFS was doing, because we were totally scattered. None of us were sitting near each other. It was annoying. And of course, we didn't know if we were allowed to switch seats. I was next to a pretty fat Brazilian. You know, he kind of overflowed into my seat. Excellent. Worst fear confirmed.

But anyway, remember that delay? Well, apparently something was wrong with the computer system of the plane, because we didn't take off until 10:00. That's right - we sat in the airport, in the plane, on a two-hour layover. I don't think they quite thought this one out.

We had dinner, which was surprisingly good for plane food. And then I decided to watch The Lion King in Portuguese, decided I didn't understand any of it, switched to French, decided I understood decidedly more but still absolutely nothing that wasn't in subtitles, and switched to English. Good ole English.

And this time I slept, the difference being I was on the right side, so I had to contort my body against its natural wishes and sleep against the wall, which was, by the way, extremely uncomfortable. And of course the people in front of me were all leaned back, so I couldn't sleep in my normal forward position. I was in a lucid state for the entire flight.

Until, of course, about an hour before breakfast, which I slept through. Stupid Jake stupid Jake stupid Jake. You need food!

AFSers to Brazil and Paraguay!

We landed not much longer after that in the São Paulo Airport. We were greeted by AFS staff after going through customs (and they just let us into the country, which I thought was weird) and picking up our luggage (we were among the first to get it).

There were a bunch of exchange students already there - bear in mind that it was about 7:30 AM - and Matt left our group before we even sat down. He was placed in the North.

Kayla, Alice and I sat down, deodorized, shared gum, and, like good Americans, waited for people to come talk to us in English. Two boys approached - one from France and one from Norway, both looking distinctly European. You know how Europeans just dress differently? Like, they have the same brands that we do, but they do something different...I dunno. They looked like Europeans. I decided to try speaking French to the French boy, and apparently I didn't mess anything up (why couldn't I ever do that during class?) because he said I had very good French. Points scored.

We were soon joined by a boy from Italy and he and I engaged in deep conversation and I was constantly reminded to stop speaking so quickly. Yeah, thanks for the pointer.

Eventually, more Italians came and joined our circle. There was one girl going to Natal - Alice - who had conjugated F-ck to its entirety, idiomatic expressions included. It is, without a doubt, the most versatile word in the English language. And also the most popular among foreigners, it seems.

I left before Alice or Kayla or the French boy (who was the only person from France and was taking a long bus ride to his host community, poor guy) or the Norwegian boy or Alice (who was leaving shortly after me for Natal), so we all hugged and said good-bye, it was nice knowing you for an hour and a half.

Right before I left, the Italian boy came up to me and wished me off and kept talking to me until I was gone with the group. I was struck by how nice he was - nobody in the US, under these circumstances, would have gone out of his way to wish somebody well, especially somebody that he had known for less than two hours. And to the looks of it, nobody else did but him. I think that's a testament to Italy. Or maybe just this one guy.

Europeans = nice. Americans = callous.

Generalizations = bad.

Ahem.

Speaking of Alice, you can read her blog here. Like with Hannah, we're having extremely different experiences. I'm in the Northeast and in the city, and she's in the South and in a small town. Kayla was placed in a suburb of Brasilia. Neither Kayla or Matt have blogs, to my knowledge. If they decide to make them and I'm in contact with them at the time, I'll post them.

There was a German boy (Alex) and an Italian girl (Laura) on my flight. We all sat together and talked and made fun of me for speaking quickly and scared small children and babies by making funny faces.

If you are reading this as a prospective exchange student, do not doubt that you too will provided with wonderful, life-enriching opportunities such as this.

We exited the plane in Fortaleza and went to the baggage claim. I could see our host families waiting for us just outside the baggage claim, and Alex and Laura decided that they had to use to bathroom and left me on baggage duty (curses, I had to go too) and my family saw me standing there with a bunch of bags doing nothing and I'm sure they were rather nonplussed as to what I was doing.

Nonplussed - that's a word I've been using a lot recently.

But once again, I'm getting ahead of myself. Bad Jake.

Rapha was in Ohio, so he wasn't there to greet me, so only Jeanne, Carlos and Bella were there. Jeanne hugged me and said, "Welcome home!"

And what do you know? I had arrived.

More in the next post.

Tchau,

Jake

"So, Have You Packed?"

2011-07-22T21:35:00.001-04:00

I was deep in enemy territory, the wanted man, and any movement I made was a risk of being noticed, yet any hiding I did was to no avail, for they knew all the spots. Nor was I surrounded, I was trapped, with no conceivable way out. Yes, it’s true; it was my going-away party, and I was standing outside, on the concrete pool deck, surrounded by friends and family, but mostly my family.

So why, you might be wondering, was I describing them as the enemy? I suppose it does me no credit to say so, but at this point my family had been constantly peppering me with questions and it was getting quite repetitive.

I was speaking with my aunt about the exchange trip – it was getting really easy talking to everyone; I kept repeating the same information over and over again. At least I was ironing it into my brain. Where was I staying? Fortaleza. Where was that? The Northeast. What was my family like? Two parents, 17-yr old girl, 15-yr old boy. Did they speak English? The mom’s an English teacher and both the kids are fluent. What classes would I be taking? English, Portuguese, and probably History, Geography, Physics, Chemistry, some form of Math, and Physical Education, among other things. No chorus? No chorus. Is the school life the same? No, totally different. School runs from 7-12, Mon through Sat. Kids stay together. Classes are on some weird schedule where I don’t have every class every day. Did I know the schedule exactly? Not a clue. How was I feeling? Anxious, I guess. Nervous? Yeah, probably. Not sure? I think it’ll hit me on the plane, and I’ll be like, ‘oh Lord, what did I just do to myself?’

A beach shot in Fortaleza, Brazil

This particular time I was speaking with my aunt. She didn’t seem to be making small talk – she seemed to be genuinely interested – as did the rest of my family, which only made talking to everyone that much more draining because they were all so into the conversation. Don’t get me wrong, I love talking to my family, but saying the same thing over and over again just makes a guy zombified, y’know?

Anyway, after being in such a routine of answering the same questions in the same order (and no kidding, they must have planned this or something), I got kind of used to the repetition, so it really threw me off guard when my aunt asked a question I hadn’t gotten before.

“So, have you packed?”

Excellent question. The honest answer was no, but I suppose that, with the little reserve of energy I had left, I could try to be impressive and responsible and say that I had, which technically wasn’t lying, because I already had a preliminary list of what I was going to pack, and that totally counts, right?

“No, haven’t started yet.”

Yeah, I need to work on that whole responsibility thing.

At this point, somebody else arrived and I was able to escape and help them with putting their food (people brought food! It was so generous.) away and showing them where the bathroom was and asking them if they wanted a drink and all of that jazz. When that was all taken care of, I joined my friends.

Another beach shot...gotta love those palm trees!

Home territory was officially under the deck, away from the sun’s harsh rays, which were pleasantly beating down that day. My friends and I had set up a small, yet potent, fortress consisting of several chairs and a pool sofa (you know, an outdoor sofa that doesn’t get ruined by the rain) arranged in an ovular shape, and a small table settled in the middle. We were right next to the door that led to the downstairs apartment, where all the food was being held, which entitled us to easy access to the rations. I looked around at the faces, some of whom I’d be seeing for the last time. I won’t bore you with the details of my friends, but it was very sentimental, to me at least.

I’d woken up that morning with the distinct emotions of excitement and happiness. Excited because I got to see my friends and family. Happy because they actually cared enough to come.

(It’s here that we note that Jake has some pretty major self-esteem issues.)

The party went well. Some people could only stay for an hour, and I had one friend who dropped by just to give me a present from her and two others (it was a handmade photo album with pictures from pretty much everything we did since Freshman year, and the second half was empty for me to fill with my own pictures from Brazil. I was touched.) before she had to leave. She couldn’t stay because of some nasty inflammation on her palm – it looked pretty painful. I hope she recovers quickly and that there’s nothing seriously wrong with it.

One of my friends came with a present that I initially mistook for a towel (that wasn’t embarrassing). When I opened it, I was confused by some of the contents. Let’s just say that I’d never seen a travel pillow before and was rather perplexed as to its function and leave it at that, shall we?

After the party, I cleaned up a bit and put everything away. My friends wanted to throw me a party (I seriously love my friends – it seems like they actually like me.) and so I said that we could do it the day after this one and use all of the leftovers. That’s exactly what we did. By the end of the weekend, I was absolutely exhausted.

Meanwhile, I had given packing absolutely no thought.

I currently have under a week to start packing, and I do have a pretty good idea of what to bring. I finally finished with getting presents for my host family.

Fortaleza, Brazil

My parents and I agreed that I’d have my Financial Literacy work done by Friday the 15^th. And so, I crammed two semester’s worth of consumer math and taxes and other things that I guarantee I won’t remember by this time next year into two weeks. And yet there was one small problem. Some of the things needed to be graded (this was all done online at a sketchy website that had lots of typos in both the questions and the answers, but apparently my school trusted it) by the actual teacher, so I think we have to wait until school starts again so she can grade everything and unlock both midterms and finals for me. Moral of the story: if you have graduation requirements, get them done before going abroad.

Speaking of graduation requirements, AP scores came in this week (I know that they’re totally unrelated, but talking about graduation somehow reminded me of AP scores. Just go with it.). I got a 4 on English Lit and World History. And somehow, I managed to get a 3 on both Chemistry and Pissics. That’s passing. And yes, it’s Pissics, not Physics. I don’t like it. They weren’t as high as I would have liked, but I’ll take them, especially considering I didn’t know anything about the Mongols and their role in the history of the world and that Poetry essay selection in the English Lit test went way over my head. I took the SAT in June and got a 670 in Reading, a 680 in Math, and a 600 in Writing. Not as high as I would have liked, but hey, at least I scored at least 600 in every subject. I was shooting for at least a 2000, but I guess I’ll live with a 1950. I got an 8 on my essay, which I don’t disagree with, because even I think it was pretty terrible. I did write about Dumbledore, though. Maybe my graders weren’t Harry Potter fans.

As the days tick down, I’m getting more and more anxious and I’ve been feeling the need to go running and biking (I’ve even started doing laps in my pool) to burn off all the extra nervous energy. I don’t act stressed, but I keep all of my stress in my jaw, which has been noticeably tight these past couple of days. It’s like when people ask me if I’m nervous. Well, it never actually crossed my mind, but I am now!

Tchau!

Host Family, End of School Year, and Preparations!

2011-06-19T11:23:00.004-04:00

I have host family information! I actually got it the day after I posted my most recent entry, but I think my Internet decided not to work or I had to be somewhere or something. Sorry.

Bella (left) and Eduardo

So anyway, I got the email from AFS and burst out of my room, disregarding the door as if it were no more than a wisp of haze in my way, and galloped triumphantly down the stairs and gave the first person I saw – my dad – a hug, all the while screaming, “I got placed! They placed me with a family!” I think I threw him off a little bit, but he hugged me back, and I suddenly wanted to cry. Maybe because I was happy that somebody actually liked me. What does that say about my self-confidence? Haha.

After that, I ran back upstairs (after agreeing with my father that we would have a celebratory dinner), grabbed my cell phone, and proceeded to call my closest friends and merrily dance in circle on the porch like some half-possessed ice skater. The first conversation basically went as follows:

“I found out my host family!”

“Um, excuse me?”

Oh yeah. Me and my exchange student lexicon. I totally didn’t forget about that, or anything. No way. Way to kill the moment, friend.

“The family I’ll be staying with in Brazil!”

Absolutely silence, and then, “NO WAY!”

Yes way.

“What city will you be staying in?”

Excellent question.

“Um, I can’t really pronounce it, so lemme check and send it to you…”

…in case you couldn’t tell, I didn’t actually bother to look at the city. Yeah, I’m smart.

So I basically dashed back up the stairs, taking three steps at a time (and that is the first time I’ve ever done that without falling), and darted towards my computer screen and tried to sound out the foreign word.

“For-tah-lee-zah,” I enunciated.

For those of you who don’t know, it’s the city of Fortaleza.

Since I was at the computer, I decided that it would be a good idea to actually look up the apartment I’d be staying in. So I popped it into Google Maps and…

…fell out of my chair, actually.

Fortaleza is in the Northeastern region of Brazil, just south of the equator, and is the capital of the state Céara. It’s a city on the water, and my apartment was – here’s the kicker – eight blocks from the beach.

Yes, you definitely read that right. Eight beautiful blocks from the beautiful water.

I decided to see what the beach and city actually looked like, since I only had a map view, so I clicked the Satellite view and…

…nothing happened. My computer didn’t support the satellite view.

Stupid archaic machinery.

Ahem.

I actually waited until I got to school the next day to look up the address and beaches on Satellite view. The city itself seemed kind of brown, but I suppose all cities look like that from satellite view. The beach however, was beautiful. Satisfied, I switched to Images.

Excellent move. The beaches in Fortaleza are absolutely breathtaking. I’ve included some photos, but you should really, really check them out for yourself.

So, by this time I had resumed my porch-dance, and I hung up with Friend #1 and started calling Friend #2.

He didn’t answer.

Jerk.

I tried again, still no response, so I called Friend #3.

And repeat the conversation from Friend #1.

That’s basically what happened until I got to Person 7 or so when my dad came out with my brother and sister and we all hopped in the car and went to a local restaurant. I abruptly hung up on Person 7. Sorry. I forget who you were.

And so, you ask, what did I do when I got home?

Facebooked it, of course. What else?

I also sent my host parents an email (in English, and then I tried to translate to Portuguese, and then I wrote in French that if they spoke that, I could also use that language).

My host mother was away in Spain, so it wasn’t until about a week later that I received a reply.

Before I go any further, let me break it down –

Jeanne Periera – Host Mother. She works as a bridal fashion designer and as an English teacher to elementary school-aged children. As a result, she speaks fluent English. She was also an exchange student to the United States during her senior year of high school. She ended up living in Columbus, Ohio.

Carlos Periera – Host Father. Doesn’t speak English, and manages his wife’s bridal shop that she shares with her sister.

Isabella Periera – Host Sister. Same age as me (17), speaks fluent English, and likes to listen to American music and read English literature (Jane Austen, Harry Potter books, etc, etc.). She is leaving to be an exchange student to Germany in September.

Raphael Periera – Host Brother. He’ll be 15 by the time I meet him. He plays a variety of sports and wants to be an exchange student to America in two years. Also speaks pretty good English.

In her email, she essentially detailed their life in Brazil and told me about herself and how she was an exchange student to America. These emails are still continuing, but I’ll touch up more on those when I actually get to Brazil.

I started to email Isabella (who goes by Bella) and Raphael (who goes by Rapha). Bella and I have also been responding, but Rapha hasn’t been. I suppose that English is still a challenge for him.

I’m so excited! I just received travel information – I need to be in Miami on July 27^th, so I really only have a few more weeks left. I kind of don’t want to go, but I also really do want to go.

I figure that I’ll be sitting awake in my bed, staring at the ceiling because I will most likely be diagnosed as a chronic insomniac by that point, thinking, “Well Jake, what did you do to yourself this time?”

And then I will never have the will to eat again.

Just kidding.

Or at least not until I actually get to Brazil. I might be better to keep the stomach empty. There’s nothing to regurgitate, that way.

Speaking of food, I was told to try the Brazilian BBQ. It had high recommendations. They also eat a lot of sushi in Fortaleza. My host mother asked me if I ate sushi, at which point I was like, “Who doesn’t eat sushi? What that a question?” Haha.

As for my life back here, it’s been how you’d expect it. Took the SAT in June (because I didn’t want to take them in May in the middle of AP Exams) and I hope I did well. I wrote about Dumbledore on my essay, so I think that if I get some Harry Potter love from the graders, I might actually be able to do well on it.

I also had Debate Nationals, and my partner and I came in 64^th place out of the 227 teams there. We didn’t break (make the Top 32 so we could move on in eliminations) and to be honest, I didn’t want to – I probably would have had a hernia. I mean, the fact that we made it to Nationals and are the top team in the state was good enough, but 64^th at Nationals, without actually putting as much time and effort as I usually would into making my cases? I’ll take it. That was the last activity for the debate year, and although it was a tense weekend, I enjoyed it. We had one team from my school – both excellent speakers – that made it to the Top 16 and then somehow lost to one very rude team that also used racial slurs. But hey, it was a Catholic League, so I’m sure none of the judges minded.

Sorry if that offended you. As a Catholic myself, I’m allowed to poke fun at my own religion.

And then school ended. I had my last day on Thursday, June 16^th. I aced my AP Lit and French IV finals (although just barely on the French…stupid listening comprehension)…and I got a C on the AP Physics final (which I expected, because Physics is basically Chinese) and I’m not sure how I did on my Brit Lit final. I finished it in 15 minutes, so I think I did pretty well. However, I know I got a B in Physics and a B in French. Sadly, I may no longer be in the Top 1% of the class – I might go back to the Top 2%.

Bella and Friends

Of course, in any teenager’s life, there will be lots of drama. What am I going to do? All I can say is that if it had to happen, now’s not a bad time. I’m going to leave for a year, so I won’t have to deal with it. Now is the time when I find out who my true friends are. If you’re reading this as a prospective exchange student (kudos!), be prepared for that. I’m not wasting my time getting mad at people for doing stupid things and I’m holding less grudges against my friends than I usually do (not that I’m the type that really holds any grudges, but you get my point). As I said in my last post, these are my last few weeks with them, and then I come back a changed person for two months before leaving for college. So really, this is the last time I’ll see them as the person I am now, and I don’t think they realize that. I don't think I realize that.

Preparing for this exchange has also made me examine all the people in my life more closely. Who’s been a good friend to me? Why am I so mean to my little sister? Maybe I should call my grandmothers more often. Maybe I should actually call people and stop texting them – when was the last time I had a real conversation with somebody on the phone?

I swear, texting will be the death of modern society.

Maybe I should help around the house a little more (not gonna happen). I’m not doing anything today, so why I call Person X and see what they’re doing – I haven’t seen them in a while. Why don’t I walk to the library instead of asking my parents for a ride – I need time to think, anyhow. Maybe I should spend more time with my parents. Maybe I should actually get up before 10:00 AM and help make breakfast. Why don’t I see if Person Y can spend the night? It’s things like that that I’ve been thinking of. I want to make the most of these last weeks. I want to – as Thoreau says – suck all the marrow out of life.

Weird analogy, right?

Jake

Multiple Updates

2011-05-11T17:27:00.000-04:00

Whew, this blogger stuff is confusing.

So, I recently received news that I have been accepted by AFS Brazil! Happy times, I think.

Last week my mother and I met with a teacher at the local community college and quizzed him about Brazil, as he taught at a university near Sao Paulo for about 20 years. He was very friendly and we quizzed him for a little bit. If there is enough student interest, he will be offering a rudimentary Portuguese class over the summer, and I will be able to be in attendance. Otherwise, I think we will be doing private lessons.

I also made contact with an AFS student living near my who is from Brazil. She is very friendly and helpful in answering my copious amounts of questions. I hope to keep in touch with her when she goes back to Brazil, as I will be there!

Speaking of which, it hasn't really hit me that I'm actually leaving for an entire year. It's one of those things that you understand but you don't comprehend. I'm leaving for a year - got that part. Understood. However, my brain has yet to filter out all of the ramifications of that year abroad, and although I'm gearing into overdrive as far as preparation, I still haven't quite gotten a grip on that comprehension.

Here's a good analogy - you understand that when you drop something, it's due to gravity (unless you don't believe in gravity, you hater), but you don't understand what makes gravity work and all that jazz. I understand that the sky is blue during the day, but I don't comprehend the reason as to why it's blue, and it's that comprehension that I'm missing.

Did that make any sense? No? Excellent.

Right now, I've been tied up with AP Exams - for those of you who don't know what that is, it's basically a less torturous SAT that deals with only a single subject. Three hour test with a 10 minute break in the middle. I had the Chem exam last Monday (I feel like I did pretty well, although I was a little unsure about some of the free-responses), and then the English Literature test on Thursday, (two of the essays were the exact same prompt. I almost pulled my hear out), and Physics B this Monday (I didn't know any of the free-responses. Consequently, I wrote down every equation in an attempt to get credit (one of them must be right!) and spent the remaining time that I didn't using attempting the prompt writing random phrases such as "I swim with squirrels" and "The world runs on rubber bands." en francais and crossing them out so the AP Graders wouldn't grade them). I have the World History exam tomorrow, and I've been reviewing for that these past couple of days. I feel pretty confident on the material for that test.

Funny story - once somebody came up to me and said, "Jake, can you show me where Brazil is on the map? I know it's in Europe, but I couldn't find it."

Oh dear. That's frightening.

But anyway, after this week, my life should start slowing down. I have Speech and Debate Nationals in Washington DC Memorial Day weekend to win (fat chance, but I can pray). For those of you know don't know, in the kind of debate I do (Public Forum, or PF), two teams consisting of two members debate over a resolution: one team in the affirmative, the other in the negative. The debates are very structured and take about half an hour. It seems pretty boring, but I actually like it. Yeah, I get it. I'm a nerd. And the things people say! Oh dear. In March, we had somebody try to tell us that North Korea is a threat to our national security because Venezuela can launch missiles at us...because that totally makes sense. Don't worry about the fact that NK can blow up Guam and Samoa. We totally don't care about them.

Incidentally, Debate Nationals conveniently clash with the AFS pre-departure in Baltimore. Thankfully, there is another session in DC. God decided to be nice to me for a change. Thank-you God. I apologize if that was sacrilegious. Just kidding - I have the SAT that day. I'll just get there late. Sorry, AFS. I tried.

I should be hearing about placement soon, now that we're almost halfway though May. In about a month, I was told. I've been eagerly checking my inbox and AFS account every day in the anticipation that I got an early placement. So far, it hasn't happened, but I will be the first to know if it does.

I leave late July (the approximate dates are July 26-29th). That gives me not even three months left in the US. It's made me look back and want to leave with good memories, and now I can't bear the thought of leaving any part of my day unscheduled - I feel like I need to bleed out as much time as I can get. I need to make the most of the time I have here, because when I'm gone, I won't be a text message away. I might not be an email or Facebook message away, either. I'll be a phone call away, once a month, maybe more if I'm fortunate. I don't think everybody else realizes that, which I suppose is understandable, as in this day and age we can be automatically contacted with the most trivial of things. No Facebook, you do not need to send me a notifications on my phone that Bobby commented on my status. I'll see that when I get on Facebook.

It gets me thinking - what will it be like when I get back in July 2012? Will everybody still recognize me? I won't be the same person, that much is for certain. Will I still be able to connect with my friends the way I do now? What about my family? Everyone will have had Prom and graduation and all that jazz - immense amounts of bonding time - and I'll be halfway across the globe. It'll be without Jake. I mean, it's just different. I imagine that it'll be noticeable at the beginning of the year, but do people just accept this as the year goes on? Or will they still keep contact? I suppose there's no point in wondering about it now, but I feel like they don't get it. Hey guys, if you're reading this, drill it into your thick heads. He's leaving for a year.

But eh, what happens happens, I suppose. How does that Spanish saying go? Que sera sera. What will be, will be. (What won't be, won't.)

Anyway, thanks for checking in. There's a lot more that I'd like to write, but this is already getting ridiculously long and I have NHS Inductions to attend tonight. Congratulations, fellow classmates.

As always, if you guys have any questions for me, feel free to ask. I'm always available.

And so we go.

Jake

Início - Initiation!

2010-11-22T22:51:00.003-05:00

Greetings, my name is Jake Ballinger and I hail from a small town in northern Maryland called Westminster. I currently attend a local public high school known as Westminster High School. A few weeks ago I applied to go abroad to Brazil for the entire 2011-2012 academic year through the American Field Service (AFS) inter-cultural student exchange program.

In Brazil, I will be living with a host family and attending school. It is my hope to not only learn another language but also another culture and discover some things about myself that I would otherwise not have known. It is my hope that this experience will in turn make me a better person and will open my eyes to other people, interests, careers and ways of life than those I may see in the small eastern coastal town I call home.

Currently, I keep busy with homework and extracurriculars. This semester I have AP World History and AP Chemistry, and next semester I have AP English Literature and AP Physics B. My other four classes - Trigonometry & Pre-Calculus, British Literature, French IV and Vocal Ensemble - are all honors level. I am a member of the Speech and Debate team and I participate in my school's French Club, Gay-Straight Alliance, and literary magazine known as Quintessence. I also am an active participant in my school's music and theatre programs. Additionally, I'm a member of the National Honors Society and the International Honors Thespians Society. I am a somewhat accomplished pianist and an a regular participant in the All-County Chorus, as well as the esteemed Maryland All State Chorus. I'm very excited to have been given the opportunity to go to another part of the world and live there for a year, as well as learn an entirely new language.

However, I need to raise some money in order to realize this dream. I hope to raise at least $8,000 to cover the cost of the trip that my family cannot already cover. This includes international airfare and emergency medical coverage, as well as other assorted costs, such a two-week trip to the Amazon during my stay. I have several fundraisers planned for the next few months to assist in raising money, but I still need some help in order to make this happen. Thank-you for taking the time and interest to read my blog and learn about my aspirations. To help me raise money, please click the ChipIn button on the right side of this blog to made a non-tax deductible donation through PayPal. Whatever amount you are able to give, no matter how small, will help me reach my goal. I would be grateful if you could share my blog url with others whom you think may be interested in helping me achieve my goal. You can forward the link http://abraziliancycle.blogspot.com/.

For those of you without Paypal, you can always mail a check to my home address. We will put the money directly into the fund.

Thank-you.

Jake