The Journey

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