thanksmasday

It's funny, normally when I talk about having a big party weekend I mean all night dancing...this big party weekend there was no dancing involved, just Thanksgiving, early Christmas and Cael's 1st birthday party three days in a row. And that's not even to mention the days of shopping, prepping, cleaning the house and cooking. I have to say it was a great weekend, full of good food and new friends and laughter. And it was even a little exhausting like a good all night dance party. Well, not quite the same, but close. A few photos of the fun...



Liana and turkey...



"Team Turkey"


Alvaro and Cael...


Pecan pie featuring turkey art...


Sierra and Camila at Thanksgiving...


A tired birthday boy...


Camila and balloons...



Liana and the birthday boy...


janaina at cael's birthday party


Liana & Alvaro & Cael celebrated Christmas early since they'll be in Tahoe for the real deal.


It's starting to look a lot like Christmas...


A present tree...


Santa Claus (or Papai Noel as he's referred to here) came to town early in Rio and has had to weather many a rain storm at his post in front of the grocery store...

giving thanks

Mostly I'm psyched to be here in Brazil on this sunny coastline, but I have to admit I get a little homesick thinking of Thanksgiving at home. I think of my mom's festive table decorations and endless crock pot of apple cider and of my dad carving the turkey after tending to it on the BBQ all day. I think of three generations of women playing scrabble like we always do and of uncle Bill tugging on Jill's arm while she tries to relax in peace. I think of the Phelans and the Mickelsons and the Cellos and the Monagles and all the family friends that have warmed up our house for the holiday. I give thanks for all of you wonderful people!!

Instead of feeling sorry for ourselves while the rest of you gorge on stuffing and togetherness, we (a small group of Americans in Rio) decided to do our own Thanksgiving. Liana and I and her friend Joe from Minnesota are the turkeys who volunteered to cook for 11 people on Friday night and call it a holiday. We picked up a big ol' bird that we'll start brining tonight (a term I just learned this evening), then we just need to figure out how to cook it. Any ideas? Dad?? ;)
It should be fun having a bunch of people over to the apartment...even if we can't make it chilly we can at least make it cozy. Hopefully we won't screw it up too badly and turn the Brazilians in the group off to Thanksgiving. Otherwise, it's just one long hot stretch til Christmas.

november at the beach

working vacation

Although some days I forget altogether, I'm in Brazil to work. Working to live here for a little while, working on my Portuguese, working on myself. One of the voices in my head says, "Shouldn't you be getting to work instead of hanging out in Brazil right now?" Then I remember I've got my entire life to work full-time in an office or a classroom or wherever, that right now there's other work to be done...I'm here and I'm going to make the most of it!

Slowly but surely I'm getting more interest in private English lessons. I posted an ad on Craigslist Rio de Janeiro (gotta love it) which has found me a couple of students, and otherwise I've met people and it's come up that way. I met my first student on the plane ride over and got my first paycheck two days after I arrived! So far I have four students and two more who want to start after the New Year. I'm teaching mostly conversation about six hours a week in cafes, bookstores, sometimes at the beach. It's rough. Teaching privately is the best way to skip the paperwork that small English schools require, and it pays better, too. I'm basically making the same hourly wage I make at home, just not working as many hours. Hopefully business will pick up in a couple months...

November and December are big holiday months in Brazil. Every time I turn around it's another four day holiday for Saint somebody. In the U.S. our holidays tend to fall on Mondays or Fridays. Here they're on Tuesdays or Thursdays, effectively blowing most of the week. I'm not saying Brazilians aren't hard workers, they are, it's just they know how to take strategic time off. And the calendar is on their side. Since I'm not one to argue with the calendar, I'm planning to hit the road for a few weeks in December. Kind of a vacation in a vacation. I'll probably check out some new places: Angra dos Reis, Florianopolis, Parati...and go back to a couple of my favorite spots, like the jungle and Buzios. We'll see where I end up. My sister, Jill, comes to visit Dec. 19th to spend Christmas in Rio...followed by our folks coming down for New Year's! I'm so excited to have my entire family here, to show them around this place that is quickly becoming part of me. After our vacationing I'll look for an apartment in Rio and get back to work.

welcome to the jungle

My second weekend in Brazil I decided to take a break from the fast-paced city and check out a nearby mountain town, Petropolis. I booked three nights and started reading about the retreat town with European flavor, and how it was where the imperial court went in the summer to avoid Rio's noise and mugginess. Perfect, I thought. When the hostel called to say their pipes had burst and they were shutting down for the week but they could redirect me to one of their sister hostels in Rio, Sao Paulo or Casimiro, I almost canceled my weekend. I was trying to get OUT of big cities, not looking for a get away in the same city or worse a bigger city, Sao Paulo...wait, where's Casimiro? They told me it was a nature reserve off the beaten track, a place called Jungle Beach Hostel. I guess if there's a jungle and a beach it's probably pretty peaceful. Ok, I'll take it. I hung up and looked again in my Lonely Planet...no mention of Casimiro. No website for Jungle Beach Hostel online. Huh, I guess it is off the beaten track. This is going to be an adventure...

I woke up late the next morning and knew I was running late to make all of my connections to catch the last bus from Casimiro to the Jungle Beach Hostel. First I had to take the 1 hour trip to Novo Rio Rodoviaria (the main bus station in the center) then take another 3 hour bus ride to Casimiro. And by "3 hour" I was pretty sure it meant what most other schedules mean down here- around three hours, probably more. I hustled to the bus station and caught the bus, hoping to make it in time. I had no idea where I was actually trying to make it to...

On the bus, I met a Brazilian named Luiz who works in the offshore oil industry. He spends one week with his family in Rio, then the following week working in Macae. He was all too familiar with the bus ride I was taking for the first time. We talked for most of the trip and he wondered what I was doing going to Casimiro. He told me there wasn't really anything there. I told him I was going to the Jungle Beach Hostel. He had never heard of it. When we got to Casimiro I had just missed the last bus that would head up into the jungle. I wasn't sure how to get to this remote spot where I was headed or how to explain it to a cab driver. Luiz told me to stay put while he went and talked to a taxi driver. Rates for taxis and hostels and just about everything else down here tend to have a Brazilian rate and a foreigner rate. Luiz got the local rate for me and said the taxi driver knew exactly where the hostel was. I thanked him and headed off in the taxi into the darkening hills looking for the jungle.

We wound up and around, bumping our way along a mostly paved road. The air felt exquisite coming through the window, cooler and softer than the city air I had been breathing, and it smelled like fresh rain and flowers. From the "main" road we went through several gates along smaller dirt roads, much darker and rockier, until we got to a bridge. A black horse and her foal scrambled out of the way to let us pass. I could hear a waterfall not too far in the distance but couldn't see it. It's always strange arriving in new places at night, without any sort of orientation or visual mapping. I was there, that's all I knew. I was psyched to figure out what that meant.

Through the open window of the main house I could see a man dancing and playing with a bunch of kids. Music was blaring and every one was laughing...fun. I was greeted warmly and shown to my room which I shared with a German girl, Anja. She was in her 10th month of travel in South America and was on her last leg before heading home. Other folks were visiting Jungle Beach, too: Five Irish and English guys, and five girls from Sweden. For the next three days we took amazing hikes through the Serra Mar region of the Atlantic Rainforest, cabled down a steep mountainside to swim under the most amazing waterfall, laid around the giant rocks of the river, played sand-volleyball (boys against girls- we won), were shown by the kids who live there which tropical fruits you could eat off the trees, and otherwise had a great time. One night we rented a van and were driven to the nearby town of Sana, an old hippy colony that was intentionally hard to get to, and wandered around the cobblestone streets til morning. Around every turn was another type of music blaring from a different open air bar. We met some locals selling their hand-made jewelry. Around 3 a.m. we were shown the way to a Forro party down a long dirt road with a folky-rock band and lots and lots of dancing. In the center was a big fire pit and even a few clowns and fire-dancers. Ah, I felt right at home.

Back to the hostel, the owner is working on a couple of interesting projects right now which he asked me to help out with: An environmental education program to alert locals and visitors to the preservation of The Atlantic Rainforest (in English, Spanish and Portuguese) and a center for local women to sell their hand-crafted wares and make a sustainable living. I'm not sure yet what I might be able to contribute to his projects, but I have a feeling I'll be going back again to this magical place in the jungle...

words from the beach

It's been raining this last week so instead of going to the beach I'll write about it...

I've experienced a lot of different beach cultures in my travels from the Pacific to the Atlantic, the Mediterranean to the Caribbean, but I've never seen the kind of beach scene that happens here in Rio. On a typical spring Sunday as far as the eye can see, miles and miles of white sands beaches are literally teeming with people. People tanning themselves to varying degrees of bronze and copper in itsy bitsy bikinis and sungas (the male counterpart of the bikini), people playing soccer, volleyball, paddle ball, people jogging and swimming and surfing, people eating cheese on sticks cooked over hot coals, shrimp kabobs, globos (little donut shaped snacks that don't have any real flavor but taste good all the same), ice-cream, popsicles, baked breads filled with meat and cheese and spinach, cold beer, coconut water you drink from the fruit through a straw, tropical juices, you name it. Anything you could imagine wanting on a hot day at the beach you will find...or will find you is more like it. With coolers and racks and little coal ovens and mini-fridges dangling off each arm, vendors walk up and down the long beaches shouting out their goods for sale...then come the colorful clothing and sarongs and sunglasses, necklaces and beach bags...every few seconds comes another chance to quench your thirst or purchase something. It's not the most relaxing beach experience I've ever had, but it's one of the coolest.

There are dozens, maybe hundreds (I have no idea) how many beaches in Rio. I always go to the same one. Down two short blocks and across one busy street I find myself slipping off my flip flops and plopping down on the same stretch of sand. To my right are giant green sloping hillsides which divide the Zona Sul region from Vidigal (favela) and to my left miles and miles of beaches. In front of me is the glorious sea, green and blue and waves crashing into white foam and endless horizons. I love that about the ocean, the freedom and limitlessness it evokes...the restless persistence...the eternity. For now I'm happy to be living here by the sea...

scenes from the beach

Two blocks away from where I'm living...some scenes from the beach...words to come.




beach=happy

baby steps

"Fear of making mistakes can itself become a huge mistake, one that prevents you from living, for life is risky and anything less is already loss." -Rebecca Solnit

The more I know, the more I know I don't. It's always that way, but I'm reminded more often these days as I struggle to put together this puzzle...Portuguese. Ch and Sh and Dz and Oo and Ow and nasal sounds I can't make unless I've got ocean water up my sinuses. Sounds like something I've heard before, sounds like a song, sounds like nothing, are they really saying something? Who am I when I can't say who I am? Slower, please. I'm...learning. "Don't be afraid to make mistakes" is the advice I give my English learners on the first day of class. "Don't be afraid to make mistakes" I tell myself now. We have to let ourselves attempt new ways of being and seeing the world; we have to make mistakes. We have to learn somehow.

Cael is the incredible edible one year old little boy I'm fortunate to live with. He's also my learning buddy. He's learning English, Portuguese and baby sign language right now. I'm only learning one new language. I think we both understand a lot more than we can speak. Together we're taking baby steps...

lost in brazil

"How will you go about finding that thing the nature of which is totally unknown to you?" -Meno

"To be lost is to be fully present, and to be fully present is to be capable of being in uncertainty and mystery. And one does not get lost but loses oneself, with the implication that it is a conscious choice, a chosen surrender, a psychic state achievable through geography." -R. Solnit

And so I set off on this road...to lose myself for a time, to find what it is I am looking for. But where to begin? I am here, now. Brazil, Rio de Janeiro: A dense sprawl of concrete and cobblestones and sloping shantytowns seemingly built on top of paradise itself, 12 million inhabitants deep. It is easy to get lost here. I only need to step outside and walk in any direction. Lost. Lost in the street names and the endless grids. Lost in the language, the music, the smells, the laughter and shouts of the streets at night. Lost because I am anonymous here, though some recognize me as the "gringa" in the neighborhood. It is a welcome feeling to step outside of the known constructs of Home, of English, into unknown territory. For now I am taking a break from the familiar and letting the road dictate a little...

The Streets...
I've been here for just over three weeks now, and I'm only now sitting down to write. In the city that never sleeps it can be hard to find reflective time. Rio is nicknamed the Marvelous City, and truly it is that. I love the lushness of the landscape here and the diversity of architecture and people. Along the many miles of beaches are beautifully inlaid cobblestones in black and white interwoven designs, dizzying like one massive MC Escher piece. So, too, are the people of Rio interwoven in black and white and every shade in between. It's beautiful to see so many colors glimmering side by side on the beaches. Unfortunately, people of different colors/economic brackets don't mingle much here elsewhere. The economic gap is definitely pronounced in Brazil. The rich are very rich by American standards, and the middle class live in what we would consider ghetto. The majority of people in the country are below middle class, living in favelas, shantytowns constructed out of leftover materials: brick, cardboard, corrugated tin, whatever. Driving by the hillside the other day I saw a rundown spiral staircase connected to a balcony by rope alone. Indeed many people seem to be holding on by a thread here. Still, I am struck by the celebratory spirit that seems to be overwhelmingly present here, and I'm reminded of the richness of simple things.


I met a bunch of kids selling bracelets in the street for 50 cents...When I asked what they were playing, they pointed to a plastic table displaying a variety of beaded creations and replied, "We're not playing, we're working!"




Weekdays, I'm living and working in Rio. Weekends, I'm rambling...Buzios has some of the most beautiful beaches I've found so far- thirty something in all. For two whole days I did nothing but hike to little cove beaches, swim, kayak, eat fresh fruit & drink coconut water...



On "normal" days, I'm living with a friend from U.C.Santa Cruz, Liana, her Brazilian husband and their sweet 10 month old baby boy. It wasn't my initial plan to stay with them, but it's worked out really well to live in their office and babysit from time to time. They've got a great apartment in Leblon, one of the swankier neighborhoods of Rio, two blocks from a lovely and very lively beach. It's been really nice to start out here with friends in a family atmosphere with plenty of support and lots of Portuguese and English flying around the place. One of the first expressions in Portuguese I learned this time around was "Ka de Cael?" "Achou!" (Basically peek-a-boo). It hasn't proven to be that useful an expression in other situations, but who knows... more to come...I'm off to class.

kiss...