{Travels with Carly}

2010-12-03T00:04:00.004-02:00

It's been nearly a year and a half since I last set foot in Brazil. Not a day goes by that I don't find myself humming a bossa-nova tune, craving suco de maracuja, or thinking to myself in Portuguese. It occurs to me that some might diagnose that last item as schizophrenia; Brazilians, on the other hand, have a more precise word for the phenomenon. It's a word that doesn't exist in the English language and one for which there is no exact translation. It has been defined in various terms: "the love that remains", "nostalgic longing", or "a vague and constant desire." Saudades. (Pronounceed saw-oo-dodge-ees) I personally find it is but another symptom of my terminal case of wanderlust.

Fortunately for me, these saudades will soon be quieted, if only temporarily. My counting up the days I've been gone has recently turned into a countdown to my departure, which I am happy to report now number only 10. To add to the excitement, there is the possibility that I will once again be flying first class, though I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Another sip of that sweet, complimentary champagne may have me re-evaluating my non-profit and humanitarian ambitions. Regardless, my first class experience will not be long-lived. After a 12 hour flight, I will disembark the plane to be greeted by an merciless heat that shows no mercy to passengers of any cabin. I will weave through narrow hallways and over-crowded terminals, making my way to customs. Organization will be scarce, line-formations erratic and morphous. Tugging along my bright-orange suit case, I will wait while silently scolding myself for managing to overpack yet again. An hour or so later (perhaps more if airport personnel have to step away for a cafezinho), I will emerge, my passport sporting fresh ink. I will walk through the sliding-glass doors that lead to the exit, breathe the less than fresh air of Sao Paulo, and feel... relief. For though I know in my mind Brazil is not my home, I have yet to convince my heart.

2009-07-08T16:10:00.002-03:00

I suppose a bit of an explanation is in order. I am no longer writing you from Rio de Janeiro but from my parents' couch. I had been a bit under the weather since I arrived in Rio three weeks ago, and over the course of the last week, things got increasingly worse. I talked it over with friends and family and decided that it was probably best to cut my trip short. I now know this was a wise decision because, as it turns out, I have pneumonia.

It's good to be home, starting to finally feel better. Rio feels a world away, and I don't think I've fully comprehended yet what I lived and learned there. Needless to say, this trip didn't quite turn out as planned, but, as usual, I'm already contemplating my next one. And when I figure out where that next one is, you'll be the first to know.

2009-07-01T20:04:00.003-03:00

I call this photo the World's Easiest Game of Where's Waldo. (Can you spot the gringa?)

(back row from L to R: Beatriz, me, Gleydson, Amanda, Adriene; front row: Pablo, Juliana, Bruna, Isabel, Matheus, Thaynan)

This group is my Monday-Wednesday 3:00 Beginning English class. I know teachers aren't supposed to have favorites, but I do, and these are them.

One Small Step

2009-06-25T22:32:00.004-03:00

Over the past week, I have fallen into the daily routine (or lack thereof) at Comunidade em Ação. When students show up, I teach; when they don't, I don't. Regular attendance has always been a bit of an issue at CIA. The school began charging students $10 Reais a month (roughly $5 USD) so that students would be more personally invested and motivated to attend classes. However, in a community where so many live from hand to mouth, the slightest upset- such as a sick child or car trouble- can wreak havoc on a family's finances. Not to mention that English classes are taught entirely by volunteers such as myself, most of whom stay no longer than a month or so, which certainly isn't conducive to continuity in the classroom. Despite these setbacks, I have found that most of my students are genuinely eager to learn.

My Monday-Wednesday afternoon class in particular is full of bright, hard-working kids who have somehow maintained their innocence in spite of their surroundings. They arrive for class 15 to 20 minutes early (which is unheard of in Brazil, as most things start 15 to 20 minutes late). They ask whether I have met any famous Americans, like the cast of High School Musical or the Jonas Brothers. I call for one volunteer to read a paragraph in the text book and over half the class eagerly raises their hand. These children- Mateus, Bruna, Gleydson, Thaynan- are why I came. When I am lost in the labyrinth of sound and smell that is Complexo do Alemão, I think of them. And while I know that what I am doing here- teaching English- is no great feat, I think that it could lead to one. If I can teach them- teach them well, encourage and empower them to continue, English could very well be their ticket out. My month here is a small step, but when I leave, I hope to have given them the tools to someday make that great leap.

"Mind the Gap"

2009-06-19T09:41:00.002-03:00

I made my way out to Comunidade em Ação (Community in Action) for the first time yesterday to get a feel for where, what, and whom I will be working with. I met the organization's executive director, Gwen, at a nearby metro station so that she could show me how to make the rather long and complicated journey to the Complexo do Alemão (the favela in which the school is located). Mondays through Thursdays for the next month, my commute will consist of a 3 hour round trip between the comfort and safety of the Zona Sul (South Zone) and the almost other-worldly poverty of the Zona Norte (North Zone).

Complexo do Alemão is actually a group of 12 smaller favelas with a combined population of somewhere between 60 and 70 thousand people. One can never be quite sure on the exact number as many favela residents are not counted in the government census. It's difficult to describe what it feels like to enter a favela: I leave my apartment in the rather quiet, residential neighborhood of Botafogo, hop on the metro, and emerge from the underground into what I'm almost sure is another country entirely. I am surrounded on all sides by hills, sprawled across which are thousands upon thousands of shanty homes. Neighborhoods are nearly in-navigable to outsiders. Streets are overcrowded with foot traffic. These are the least of the least of these, and they are keenly aware that, for the most part, the country in which they live has all but forgotten them entirely.

My bus stop is just across the street from the school. I make my way up three flights of a very narrow staircase and enter the small, blue school building. And I wonder. I wonder not only how I got here, but how they got here. How a country with the 9th largest economy in the world could ignore such a large group of its citizens. And I am glad that I came. I am glad that I came to recognize their struggle and to extend a hand of friendship. Starting next Monday, I will be teaching 6 English classes at CIA, each of which meet twice a week. I taught two small classes yesterday- the youngest student was 8, the oldest 89.

As I boarded the metro to come home, an announcement played on the loudspeaker in Portuguese, telling passengers to be aware that there is a space between the edge of the platform and the train when boarding. The announcement was then repeated in simpler form in English: "Mind the gap." And I thought to myself that perhaps that is really all that I am doing- noticing that there is a large space, a gap between the haves and the have nots, the uplifted and the downtrodden. I am minding the gap. And I hope that, in the short month that I am here, I may even help to bridge that gap, if only in the smallest part.

******

To get a better idea of what daily life is like in a favela, check out this piece by the Washington Post.

2009-06-16T10:01:00.003-03:00

First morning in Rio:

Wake up. Put on the closest article of tie-dye and pair of Havaianas. Walk to the nearest newsstand to buy a copy of O Globo, the local newspaper. Get breakfast at a sidewalk cafe. Get the second cup of coffee on the house for being a friendly, Portuguese-speaking gringa.

In the immortal words of my childhood hero Little Orphan Annie, I think I'm gonna like it here.

2009-06-14T18:06:00.002-03:00

Alex, Luke, Bryan, and Quinn arrived back in the States today, so it's just down to Adam and I in Sao Bento. The guys really did an incredible job training basketball coaches this past week (despite their interpreter's occasionally questionable grammar). After about a day or so in town, they had become a veritable tourist attraction. Few people here are very tall, and almost none are red-headed, so to say that our group stuck out is a bit of an understatement. The week went by incredibly fast. Aside from the training itself, there were a number of American vs. Brazilian basketball and soccer games. Rather predictably, we won the basketball games and had our you-know-whats handed to us in soccer.

The mountains of Sao Bento have a rythm all their own. As many horses as cars meander down the city streets. Hurry is an unwelcome stranger. And oddly enough, this sleepy little town with a lifestyle in such sharp contrast to my own has made me call into question what I value and why. Daily life here is always expensive, often inconvenient, and occasionally dangerous. Many families have lived here for generations and can trace back their ancestry to slaves in the 19th century that founded the city. Few have had the opportunity to travel in Brazil, much less outside of it. The wrinkles in old mens' faces are as enigmatic as the mountains themselves, steeped in history and tradition. The people of Sao Bento do Sapucai and towns like it have worked very hard at carving out a life for themselves in an otherwise inhospitable environment. They treasure family, friends, an honest day's work. And though higher education and all its trappings are distant dreams for most of this town's residents, I am certain that these people have learend what no university can teach.

Adam and I are headed to Rio at 6 a.m. tomorrow. I'm not entirely sure when we'll get there as we will have to take 2 or 3 connecting buses (none of which are likely to depart or arrive on time). While I know that I will soon be caught up in Rio's big city hustle and bustle, I carry with me the quiet peace of this town, tucked away amidst the eternity of the mountains and the steady fog of winter.

2009-06-06T10:19:00.002-03:00

Thanks to the connections a certain member of our group has with American Airlines, I got to fly first class from DFW to Sao Paulo. I can now say that I have seen how the other half lives, and I liked it.

My one-way flight in the lap of luxury is slowly and singlehandedly chipping away at the core of my previous travel experiences- experiences in which I prided myself on my ability to tough it out, sleep anywhere, eat anything, forgo the conveniences of modern technology, all the while looking down my nose at those who were less wililng to "rough it." All such aspirations flew quickly at the three (count them) windows that lined my oversized seat as stewardesses filed by to offer champagne, copies of the New York Times, and Bose headphones. I felt undeniably smug- that is until I attempted unsuccessfully to use the dozen or so buttons on my spage-age rocket chair and was saved from further embarrassment by a stewardess who's face said, "Clearly you've never done this before."

Dinner seemed endless, as course after course was delivered on silver platters. And if that wasn't enough to convince me, once dinner finally ended, I opened up the amenities kit given to all first class passengers. It included the usual items- toothbrush, socks, sleeping mask, etc. But the final blow, the pivotal moment that had me running from my humble roots and straight into the arms of the MAN- Burt's Bees products. And that was it. I was a goner. I hit the "bed mode" button on my space chair, put on my sleeping mas, and drifted off thinking patronizing thoughts of those poor souls roughing it in coach.

Fortunately, I have since come back to my senses. I certainly enjoyed the experience, but I also know that, rather than the other half, it was more like how less than one tenth lives. Moreover, I'm not so sure that the girl who buys most of her clothes at Ross and only has 2 channels on her TV because she refuses to pay for cable necessarily belongs there. Not that I have much to worry about- after this trip, once I'm back traveling on my own dime, I don't foresee any first class tickets in the near or distant future.

2009-06-03T02:39:00.002-03:00

As my latest attempt in a string of efforts to avoid packing, I have chosen this moment to update my blog. In a little less than 48 hours, I will be on a plane to São Paulo, Brazil. The first leg of my trip will be spent interpreting for a group from my church leading basketball camps in São Bento do Sapocaí, and I will head from there to Rio de Janeiro to volunteer for the next month with a non-profit organization called Community in Action. (The latter portion of the trip is funded by a scholarship from the Human Rights Department of Southern Methodist University.)

This is the second opportunity I have had to return to Brazil since I lived there in 2007, and I must say it is no less exciting. I am anxious to leave my English-speaking life behind and assume my alter-ego: a shorter, blonder version of Carmen San Diego. Most of all, however, I am eager to contribute something meaningful to the country that, two short years ago, gave such a great deal to me.

I will post on this blog as often as possible, and I hope you will learn a bit (and laugh a bit) from its contents. For now, I suppose I ought to put off procrastinating and compartmentalize my life into one very large, orange suitcase. Tedious and time-consuming as it may be, this process never ceases to unearth a number of mixed emotions- excitement for what awaits me coupled with the bittersweet knowledge of what (and especially whom) I will leave behind.

2008-03-31T12:56:00.002-03:00

Sorry for the lack of contact the last couple of days. After hearing the mild panic in my mother’s voice when I called her from Bangkok yesterday, I’m guessing that “police raids in Mae Sot” was not a good note to end on. Quite a few arrests were made, but, fortunately for the Burmese, the Thai police are easily bought.

I spent two more days at the orphanage, which is sponsored by an organization called Social Action for Women (SAW). SAW also sponsors 3 other facilities- a preschool, a women’s safehouse, and a home for HIV positive mothers and their children. We visited each of them on Thursday. The HIV home is the most recent of SAW’s projects and does not yet have an established yearly budget. From what I can tell, it is funded solely by SAW employees and by the profit made from scarves the women weave by hand. The house itself is incredibly run-down and dirty. Apparently the majority of the money set aside for the house is dedicated to paying medical expenses and purchasing healthy foods. In the near future, I will hopefully be partnering with the Thai Burma Civic Project (a non-profit based out of Los Angeles) to raise funds and apply for grants on SAW’s behalf, specifically for the orphanage and the HIV house. I also plan to help the older children at both homes find scholarships and/or grants to pursue higher education in Thailand and abroad.

Friday morning, we went to Mae La Camp, the largest refugee camp on the Thai Burma border and home to more than 50,000 people. The sheer size of the camp was staggering- it spans 6 kilometers from one end to the other and is situated on the foothills of the mountains on the border. Mae La has been around since 1989 and now has a fairly well established infrastructure. Rainwater is collected during monsoon season, then filtered and used during the dry months. There are 7 churches and dozens of schools, attended by different people groups and taught in different languages. Every building is constructed with bamboo and teak wood frames and banana leaf roofs. As we hiked through the camp, we were welcomed into the homes of three different families. We were humbled and overwhelmed by their hospitality. Their monthly food rations are scant at best, but they were proud and eager to share them with us. We were first given strawberry juice and something that resembled a small, crunchy funnel cake (whose name in Karen translates to “little sparrow droppings”).

The people of Mae La challenged my previous perceptions of what life in a refugee camp would be like. Even after working with refugee children and families last summer, I think I still expected the camp to be something like the infomercials seen on late night television for Christian Children’s Fund- sadness, suffering, starvation. Not to belittle the difficulties they have faced, but I found that people were well provided for, well protected, and generally happy. Their struggle, however, is not manifested in physical needs. The people, especially young adults, have next to nothing with which to occupy their time. Past 12th grade, there is no opportunity to attend universities, aside from being resettled to a third country. This lack of activity has brought about drug and alcohol problems for youth and adults alike. A refugee’s motivation for leaving (or wanting to leave) a camp is not necessarily that life is so terrible there, but that it is not life. As human beings, they have a right to the pursuit of happiness, a chance at fulfillment, and self determination. These privileges are near extinction in Burma and are scarce commodities for those who have escaped.

Palaung Children's Safehouse

2008-03-25T11:23:00.005-03:00

MONDAY
Today, each of us started our "mini-internships" with different NGO's in Mae Sot. Dodo and I were placed in the Palaung Children's Safehouse, an orphanage. The Safehouse is home to 39 children who, aside from the fact that they are all Burmese, come from a variety of backgrounds. Many of them are the children of illegal migrant workers (notoriously employed and exploited by local t-shirt factories) who did not have the means to provide for their family. Some are the result of the enumerable rapes perpetrated by the SPDC; others are the children of political prisoners. Three out of the group have polio, and another two are HIV positive.

That being said, however, the children were incredibly if not overwhelmingly happy. Within minutes of walking in the door, I had 5 little boys swinging from my arms and wondering at the strange spots all over them. The children are well cared for and loved, and I felt that my role yesterday and in the days to come is more emotional than educational. These kids thrive in their community, but it is clear that they don't receive the individual attention that they so badly crave. Three days is a short time, but it is enough to show them love and kindness.

It is also enough time to see the needs at the school and brainstorm ways to address them. From what we understand from the only English speaker at the Safehouse, it is privately funded by a single donor in the United States and operates for roughly $20,000 USD a year. Dodo will soon be meeting with the program coordinator to discuss how we can help, and we welcome any suggestions from you on fundraising (or anything else).

**********

TUESDAY MORNING
We're headed back to the Safehouse in about 15 minutes. Some of the other "mini-internships" have been altered or cancelled today, however, because of security concerns. The Thai police have been sent from Bangkok to raid local activist NGO's because they harbor illegal aliens are not recognized as legal organizations by the Royal Thai Government. There were a number of arrests overnight and this morning, so the more vocal and active NGO's are in hiding. Unfortunately, for so many Burmese, safety is scarce and fleeting on either side of the border.

Mae Dao Clinic

2008-03-24T12:34:00.003-03:00

This morning we visited the Mae Dao Clinic, which provides a myriad of medical services to the people of Burma. The majority of the patients helped by this clinic are migrant workers (both legal and illegal) and do not have official refugee status from the UNHCR. To say the least, the experience was unforgettable. I will come back to this subject later, but, for now, I will give you Mae Dao Clinic by the numbers:

1989- Year Mae Dao Clinic was opened
200 to 400- People helped daily
110,000- People helped in 2007
30 to 40- Land mine victims per year
200 to 300- New HIV cases per year
6 to 8- Babies delivered daily
300- Staff and volunteers
100- New nurses and medical staff trained by the clinic yearly
10 to 20- Percent growth yearly
50-Percent of patients living in Thailand; all other patients travel from Burma
0- Amount charged to patients, whether treated at Mae Dao Clinic or referred to local hospitals
2,000,000- Annual budget in USD

2008-03-23T03:55:00.003-03:00

It’s a little before 6 a.m. Sunday morning, and we’ve just arrived at the Ban Thai Guest House in Mae Sot. We rode on the upper level of a double-decked bus overnight, at the mercy of a driver who reveled in the terrified looks on our faces as he sped over mountain curves. We finally made it to the bus station around 5:30 and took tuk-tuks to the hotel.

Yesterday, we met with ALTSEAN Burma, an NGO formed in response to ASEAN’s non-interference policy and, more specifically, to their granting membership to the government of Burma about 10 years ago. The initial idea was that, if Burma became a member nation of ASEAN, the positive association would encourage democracy and development. As the world has witnessed, however, this plan never came to fruition. Every six months, ALTSEAN recruits interns from Burma in order to give them the skills and tools necessary to continue the grass-roots democracy movement and to promote socio-economic development for the many peoples of Burma. At our meeting yesterday, six interns, each of whom were from different ethnic groups and states in Burma, told us their stories. We were unable to take pictures with them, and, though they can all communicate in the Burmese language, they are forced to speak English for their safety. For varying reasons, each of these young women is considered a terrorist by the Burmese government and an illegal alien by the Royal Thai Government. As I talked to them individually over lunch, I found out that most of them had spoken to their families only once over the past 3 years.

One particular intern, whom I will call Ana, told us of her involvement in the Saffron Revolution, the peaceful uprising led by Buddhist monks September and October of 2007. Before the Revolution, Ana had started a youth organization, and was already under suspicion by the Burmese government. At that time, the government had essentially cut off all means of communication both domestically and internationally, so news of the uprisings spread by word of mouth. Once the Revolution began, she habitually snuck out of her house in the middle of the night to spread messages to neighboring villages. It is Burmese tradition that Buddhist monks are given their daily rice by the people in their townships, so Ana used this as a means of communicating, as well. She wrote messages, wrapped them in plastic, and hid them in the rice that she later gave the monks. Ana and countless others like her are the reason that the initial demonstrations in the capitol, Rangoon, eventually gave way to hundreds of others throughout the nation.

I could go on for hours, recounting each of their individual stories, but for now I will leave you with just a few thoughts. In May, these 6 young women will finish their internships in Bangkok, after which, each of them plans to sneak back into Burma to help their people. As Dodo, a member of our delegation, pointed out, women are so often portrayed as merely the victims of this tragedy, but it is clear that in Burma they are instigators of change- dedicated to their cause, and willing to risk their lives to give their country a better future. We discussed everything from mass rape and forced labor to poor education and failing infrastructure yesterday afternoon, but one thought in particular weighed on my mind: haven’t we heard this story before? This tale of suffering, bloodshed, and oppression? Yes, we have. Rwanda, Darfour, South Africa, and the list goes on. It seems that the location changes, but the crime never does. Let us hope that we may act before it is too late.

**********

It's now 2:00 in the afternoon. After our long and sleepless bus ride, we rested until 11 and went to lunch at a local restaurant called Casa Mia. I'm not entirely sure why the Karen owner of the restaurant opted for that name; perhaps to attract international clientele. We had our first taste of Burmese food (for me, it was Burmese curry with pumpkin and tofu), and it was absolutely incredible. Later on, we're headed to the Burmese market in town, too.

I am enjoying this part of Thailand much more than I did Bangkok. The air is cleaner in Mae Sot, and the mixture of Karen, Thai, and Burmese locals are warm and inviting to foreigners. I suppose they know that the majority of us didn't come just for pad thai or back massages. I promise I will post pictures when and if I can; because we are so close to the border, we have to be extremely cautious of whom and what we photograph.

And oh yeah, Happy Easter.

One Night in Bangkok

2008-03-21T20:24:00.003-03:00

It is currently 6:30 a.m. Saturday morning in Bangkok. I went to bed before 10:00 last night, so I'm up a little early, but I'd like to think I'm through the worst of the jet lag.

I arrived in Bangkok yesterday at around 4:30 a.m. I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised by my flight over on Thai Airways. As I boarded the plane, flight attendants wearing traditional Thai clothing bowed to greet me and my fellow passengers. Seats alternated in color between marigold yellow, royal purple, and fuschia, and everything else from the carpet to the curtains was varying shades of purple, as well. After take off, it seemed like the food never stopped coming. Eighteen hours is a long flight, but I wouldn't have expected to eat 3 full meals.

Three other members of my group were on the same flight, so, after going through customs, we took a cab to the Atlanta Hotel. By 9:30, we took the SkyTrain to our first meeting with the Thai Burma Border Consortium. We spoke with Sally Thompson, the Deputy Executive Director of TBBC, who is originally from the UK but has lived in Thailand for the past 30 years. Her organization is essentially responsible for providing food for the 145,000 refugees that have crossed the border into Thailand. TBBC receives funding from about a dozen governments and twenty NGO's from all over the world, but I was particularly surprised when she told us that the United Nations and the World Food Project are not among them. The first refugees arrived in 1984, and, since that time, the situation in Burma has continued to worsen, and their numbers have only increased. Right now, it costs approximately $60 million to feed the refugee population for a year. Unfortunately, because of the rising price in grain combined with the weak US dollar and strong Thai Baht, that cost has risen $5 million dollars. This basically means that if Ms. Thompson and TBBC can't find funding for that deficit, as early as July of this year, they will be forced to cut rice rations drastically. She is well aware of the uphill battle she is fighting, but, in her words, "When I get too depressed, I go to the camps." Their resilience, their determination to make something out of nothing, and their optimism are constant sources of strength for all of us.

That afternoon, we had our first authentic Thai meal, where we all shared dishes that consisted of either a) noodles, b) soup, or c) noodle soup. Not to say it wasn't delicious, but it certainly reinforces the idea that you can boil the food in most cultures down to three ingredients. We then took a boat down the Chao Phraya River to Wat Po Temple, famous for the Reclining Buddha.

We walked around the city a bit more afterwards before heading back to the hotel, eating more Thai food, and subsequently passing out. Today, we have a few more meetings scheduled and are planning to visit Chatuchak market, the biggest in Bangkok. Tonight, we will be sleeping on a bus on our 10 hour trip to Mae Sot, a town on the border. I guess that brings you up to date. I'm off to order a very strong cup of coffee!

Let's Talk Thailand

2008-03-18T02:13:00.004-03:00

I will be leaving for Thailand in less than 48 hours. Normally, writing that sentence would be accompanied by any mixture of panic, stress, and worry over my unorthodox last-minute packing methods, but this time is different- even if I didn't realize it until a few days ago. I had been a bit overwhelmed with the logistical aspects of this trip- immunizations, malaria pills, and a week and a half of make-up work. All whispers of doubt and anxiety were silenced, however, as I entered the Wildflower apartment complex in Vickery Meadows last Thursday. Nearly a year ago, I met a group of children there who put Burma (and Thailand) on the map for me, both literally and figuratively speaking. And as I shared the news of my upcoming trip with them last week, I was humbled and reminded of exactly why I dreamed of going in the first place.

The above photo comes from World Refugee Day, one of the many memories of my internship with the International Rescue Committee last summer. The majority of the children in the picture come from Burma and are Karen or Chin, ethnic minorities whom the Burmese government has mercilessly hunted and slaughtered over the past two decades. Most of these children were born in refugee camps in Thailand and Malaysia and, through the work of the UNHCR and organizations like the IRC, resettled to the United States within the past year. Most of the children in this picture have also, at one time or another, held my hand, drawn me pictures, or sang along to "We Are Family" in the back seat of my car. Their laughter emanates hope, their gaze unfathomable optimism. Their lives have had a palpable and indelible impact on my own, and I can only attempt to return the favor.

Thus, at 4:50 Wednesday afternoon, I will hop a plane to L.A. and then on to Bangkok. As part of a student delegation with the U.S. Campaign for Burma, I will work alongside local NGO's in Mae Sot (on the Thai-Burma border) and strategize new ways to raise awareness and promote advocacy for the people of Burma. I will post here as often as possible, and I hope to give you all information and insight into this incredibly human tragedy taking place on the other side of the world.

2007-11-20T13:44:00.000-02:00

I know I have not posted for quite a while (nearly a month apparently), but I'm never entirely sure if people actually read this thing, in which case posting just makes me feel vain. Regardless, time has not stopped on this or the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, and quite a bit has happened in the past month.

In brief:

I spent the first weekend of November in the mountains outside of Clairmont-Ferrand, visiting a family friend named Stéphanie. The mountains were absolutely gorgeous, and I had an incredible time staying at Stéphanie's grandmother's farmhouse and learning the traditions of Auvergne.

The week after, my mom came for a visit and worked her southern charm on the French and many of my German friends, as well. We spent the weekend in Paris, visiting touristy things and taking touristy pictures, and them came back to my town for the remainder of her trip. We visited a handful of chateaux and smaller towns in Touraine, though perhaps our most memorable experience was the verbal abuse we received at a local restaurant for not having cleaned our plates.

After my mom left, all of the students at l'Institut took midterm exams. I ended up receiving the highest mark in the fourth level, so I was sent to the fifth this Monday, in order that I might be served a healthy dose of humility. We spend a lot of class time in preparation for the DELF (the French equivalent of the TOEFL). Daily DELF exercises, however, generally leave one with the impression of being mildly (if not grossly) inadequate in their French language skills, to which I say, "Bring it on."

I suppose that just about brings you up to speed. I will be attempting to make a Thanksgiving dinner this Saturday, where I intend to write off any strange tastes or kitchen mishaps as "American tradition".

I wish you all a happy Thanksgiving and will be home to say Merry Christmas in less than 5 weeks!

2007-10-22T19:17:00.000-02:00

Things have changed a bit since the last time I posted. For one thing, I have moved from the third to fourth level at l'Institut. While I miss my old classmates, I can tell already that the fourth level will provide more of a challenge for me and better enhance my French skills.

I also went to the appointment that I had made at the bank and have officially become a part of the bureaucracy of French banking. The appointment went well, and, technically, I think I now have an account at the HSBC here. But because they are "changing systems" (I'm not exactly sure what that means), I won't be able to get my account number until tomorrow. Regardless, I think it's a bit glamorous opening up a foreign bank account. Granted, there won't be millions of dollars worth of earnings from illegal contraband, but it does make me feel like a spy or maybe Carmen San Diego. All I need now is a trench coat and a fedora.

This past weekend, I went to Clos Luce, the home where Leonardo da Vinci spent the last 3 years of his life, with a group of friends I met at Cafe des Langues. Three of them are German (Norman, Judith, and Christine) and one is Canadian (Johanna), and they are all in Tours for a year doing Au Pair. We spent the morning at Clos Luce, and then explored the market in Amboise and had a picnic. We're planning on having a holiday exchange of sorts. Johanna and I are responsible for Thanksgiving (no pressure), and Norman, Judith, and Christine will be introducing us to St. Nicholas Day which I think has something to do with putting candy in our shoes...

Other than that, things here are pretty routine- I go to class and I stare into every bakery window one the way wondering how far I would have to run to compensate for trying one of everything. I'm trying to find a place to do some volunteer work here, since my classes get out at noon Wednesday through Friday. Little by little, I'm getting to know more people and more places. And when I take it all in, I don't think "C'est la vie." Non, I think "C'est ma vie."

2007-10-11T09:20:00.000-03:00

Last weekend, I went to Chateau Villandry with Jane and Daniel. We didn't actually go inside the chateau, but we spend all afternoon in the gardens. The chateau was only about a 30 minute bus ride from Tours, and the weather was perfect. Sunday, I went to a service at the only protestant church in Tours. It was... different. The majority of the congregation was first or second generation immigrants from francophone Africa. The people were very friendly, and I think I'm going to the youth group this Saturday.
I went to Cafe des Lengues (the Language Cafe) on Monday night and got to speak French all night with 2 actual French students and 3 Germans who are here with Au Pair. It was a great opportunity to meet new people and practice French in a casual setting. Cafe des Lengues happens every Monday night, and I plan to be there every week.
I am really beginning to enjoy the company of my classmates at the Institute. There are 2 other students from the States in my class, as well as 1 from Holland, 1 from Switzerland, 1 from Japan, 1 from Thailand, 3 from Saudi Arabia, 1 from Ecuador, and 1 from Libya. Everyone seems to have relaxed a bit after the first week of classes, and we may actually all go out together next weekend.
This morning was a personal victory for me: I completed a phone call in French. I have to open a bank account here in order to receive the funding from my scholarship, and banks work a bit differently in France. An appointment is required, for one thing, as well as a number of other documents from my host family proving that I actually live here. I called the local HSBC this morning, a bit weary of my French skills over the phone. Before I knew it, though, I had made an appointment for next Thursday without once saying "Repetez, s'il vous plait" or "Quoi?". If life were a musical, I would be Little Orphan Annie, and this would be the point where I would break out singing "I think I'm gonna like it here". I had conquered the formidable French phone call.

P.S. I have posted more pictures, and they are now organized in different sub-albums. Take a minute to stop by!

Pictures

2007-10-04T12:42:00.000-03:00

Check out the "my pictures" link to the left to see... well... my pictures.

2007-10-04T11:17:00.000-03:00

My classes officially started Tuesday. I placed into the 3rd level (6 is the highest), and will have the opportunity to move up the first week in November. So far, I have 2 different professors. I have had most of my classes with Madame Berwolf, who speaks very quickly and, I'm quite positive, can stare a hole through any unlucky late-comers. Madame Dufresne, on the other hand, may well have been born in Fern Gully. She is petite and sprightly and an excellent story teller. Right now, I have about 24 hours of class each week, though they go buy surprisingly fast.
Tuesday, we finished class at noon, and I went with Jane and Daniel, both Rotary Scholars from the States, to a garden in town. There were a couple of ponds in it, replete with swans, water lillies, and wooden bridges. Not long after we got there, we found ourselves in the middle of a downpour, and ran to the nearest gazebo. We were soon joined by Sylvan, a French actor/lighting designer. He waited out the rain with us, and was incredibly patient with our broken French, and even attempted to teach us a few French tongue twisters. Unlike the stereotype that so often pervades American thought, he welcomed us to France, and was eager to give information and advice on anything we might ask. He was only in Tours for the day, auditioning for a job at the municipal theatre, but we all exchanged email addresses and promised to see him perform if he is cast. The experience was small but impactful. We were strangers brought together in the middle of beautiful, if not ethereal, surroundings, speaking a foreign language, and finding common ground. One might even say we made a friend.

2007-10-01T16:43:00.000-03:00

Orientation finished yesterday, after which my host counselor, Vincent, picked me at my hotel and took me to the train station. I rode the train back with his wife and his son, Gautier. Gautier is 7 years old, and I think he would like to be my new best friend. I helped him study for an English quiz on the train ride, and he politely corrected my French mistakes by saying "We don't say it like that." All mistakes aside, as I left the train station in Tours with my host home family, he asked his mother if he could "keep me."

I had exchanged emails with my host home here, and didn't know exactly what to expect upon my arrival other than a very old house in the vicinity of the cathedral. In actuality, it is a 4 story manor built between the 15th and 17th century with a few of the Cathedral de Saint Gatien from my bedroom window. I'm not entirely sure how many rooms are in the house, nor exactly how many people are living in it. The owners, Huguette and Christian, prepare breakfast and dinner every day. Breakfast, of course is little more than French bread and coffee. Dinner, as usual, is quite a production. Huguette is an artist and interior designer and has given the house quite a distinctive bohemian if not hippie flair.

This morning, I took a placement exam at l'Institut de Touraine to see what level of French courses I will be taking. Results are given tomorrow, which is when our classes will start.

2007-09-28T22:17:00.000-03:00

I arrived yesterday morning in Paris and was first thrilled to see that my luggage had actually made it with me. After a nearly 30 minute delay on my flight from Dallas to Philadelphia, I ended up sprinting across the airport to arrive at my gate only minutes before take off.

I was met at the airport by Didier Schott. Didier is the former pastor of a family friend named Stephanie, who lived in my room for a bit while I was in Brazil and teaches at a Christian school in Monte Mureille. I slept nearly the entire day at the Schott's apartment above their church. I may have set a record as well, having been asked about my loyalties to President Bush ony 5 hours after my arrival. That night, Madame Schott drove me around Paris to see the monuments at night and take a few pictures.

Today, the weekend orientation for inbound Rotary scholars began. We are all staying at a youth hostel close the Louvre. This evening, we ate dinner at the Novotel. I suppose it is better to say the dinner in France is to be experienced rather than eaten. There is the presentation of each course, the ever attentive staff, the exquisite cuisine, and, finally, the introduction of the chefs. They enter the room, stooping to accomodate their large white hats, and are met with raucous applause, to which they respond with a smile and a wave and disappear again into the kitchen.

I am currently somewhere in between Texas and Paris time, as it is now 3:30 a.m., and I cannot sleep. I do not think, however, that jet lag is the only contributing factor. After checking my email, I am truly heart broken over the situation in Burma. The military junta is mercilessly open firing on peaceful demonstrators, monks, and, in one instance, high school students in their classroom. We cannot remain silent. Join the US Campaign for Burma and send an email to inquiries@un.org urging Ban Ki Moon to take immediate action.

summer in the states

2007-08-07T00:36:00.000-03:00

Living the easy life had to come to an end sooner or later. So, after 4 months in Brazil (only 2 weeks of which I actually spent attending class), I begrudgingly returned to the real world.
I spent this summer as an intern at the International Rescue Committee working with their Summer Youth Literacy Program. The IRC is a non-profit refugee relief and resettlement organization, and the program I was involved with helped recent arrival refugee children learn English and prepare for school in the fall. Most of the children came from Burma, though we also had two families from Burundi, and one from Afghanistan. Working with these children was the most fulfilling experience of my life. Their resilience, laughter, and strength in facing indescribable difficulty and unimaginable danger redefines what it means to be heroic. It was a privilege to watch them learn and grow in their new environment here in the States. We recently discovered that there is no funding for this program beginning in September, so if any of you have fundraising suggestions or would like to donate, it would be greatly appreciated. Either way, take a look at theirc.org/dallas and see what we're all about.
I will be working with the Center for Survivors of Torture soon, helping Portuguese speaking clients from Angola and Mozambique. I am very exicted to put my Portuguese to good use, though I am a bit worried that theire accents will be quite different.
And then of course, I'm off to France with Rotary. I'm assuming that internet access will be easier to come by than it was in Brazil, so I will post more frequently. I leave September 26 to study at the Institut de Touraine in Tours for twelve weeks.
I suppose that's all for now.
Thanks for tuning in and join us next time for more Travels with Carly!

2007-04-11T14:35:00.000-03:00

Looks like it has been a while since I updated anything. Well, it has now been six weeks since I have had class due to the professors being on strike. So, we've taken the opportunity to do a little travelling. Megan and I went to Campinas a few weeks ago and spent the day in the biggest mall in Latin America, where we bought overpriced burgers at TGI Fridays and spent... well, enough. Last weekend, we went to Ubatuba and spent Easter on the beach. It was incredible. Friday night, we were invited to go dancing at a club literally right on the beach. We stayed all night, and then watched the sunrise over the water. The pictures really don't do it justice. April 28, we leave for Manaus to spend a week in the rain forest, and then, May 6, we're off to Rio for a few days.
In the meantime, there isn't too much to report. We stay pretty busy, taking Portuguese lessons and helping out with English classes. I moved in with a family from the church I go to here, where I live in their guest house and a maid does my laundry every week. I am officially spoiled. I am by no means fluent in Portuguese yet, but I am really enjoying being able to communicate in the language. Megan's dad is coming into town tomorrow, and we're taking him back to the beach next week.
I guess that's all for now... I promise to update more!

2007-03-19T16:33:00.000-03:00

I noticed the other day that one of the guys here with us posted some pictures on facebook, so I thought I would put of few of them on here. This one was taken the day that we went rafting. You can't tell, but the rest of me is burned to a crisp. Oh how I love hammocks.
The other one was taken a while ago, back when I broke my wrist, near the Ponte Pencil on the Piracicaba River.

More to come soon!

2007-03-08T11:31:00.000-03:00

Packing for this trip, I made certain that I had all of my absolute neccesities, including Nestle Tollhouse chocolate chips and brown sugar. And after six weeks in South America, I decided it was time to take them out of hiding. So I bought all of the remaining ingredients necessary to introduce two of my closest friends here, Paulo and Gabriel, to this hallmark, this holy grail, this sum of all wisdom for my life in the states: chocolate chip cookies.
I searched through the kitchen for a mixing bowl, baking sheet, etc., and asked my host family where to find a 3/4 cup to measure the sugar. The look on their face told me they were thinking maybe she is as blonde as she looks. They proceeded to hand me an ordinary drinking glass and instructed me to eyeball it, as, apparently, all normal people do. The recipe calls for 2 sticks of butter, too. Butter is not sold in sticks, nor is it measured in ounces here, so, again, I guess-timated. I figured that, surely, after all of the years watching my father do this, and doing it myself, it shouldn't be a problem. When the dough was finished, we placed it on a cookie sheet and into the oven.
The oven had no specific temperature settings, not that it would have mattered since they would be in Celsius, and, sorry Dad, I don't remember that conversion. The oven had three temperatures, indicated by small illustrations of flames of different sizes. After experimenting with the temperature, it became obvious, however, that the only options where a)easy-bake-oven or b)hellfire. Needless to say, the first batch melted to oblivion, though we still ate them out of the pan with spoons. We added more flour, hoping that would resolve the issue, but it was to little avail. The closest we actually got to chocolate chip cookies was something akin to pancakes, as we had to flip them over to bake on both sides.
In the end, Paulo and Gabriel are no closer to knowing what cookies are supposed to look or taste like, and my sweet tooth is far from being satisfied.

2007-02-28T22:03:00.000-03:00

Language is a funny thing. I've been catching on pretty quickly, but I have made some (quite amusing) mistakes, too...

For instance, a few weeks ago, Megan and I were walking through the plaza, on our way to our favorite sandwich place, when I saw a sign. "Não alimenta os pombos", beneath which was a large red circle with a line going through the center and a pidgeon inside. I recognized the word alimenta from a food court, and jumped to the conclusion that the sign meant "don't eat the pidgeons". At which point, I fought the urge to either a)vomit or b)high tail it back to the good old US of A where the only Indians we have are either tucked away in reserves or opening casinos rather than running naked through the streets with spear in hand ready to skewer a pidgeon for dinner. Gathering all my wits about me, I then realized that the verb alimentar meant "to feed" and not "to eat", and decided to stay in Brazil a bit longer.

Another such instance took place on the church retreat. One afternoon, during our free time, I went to the concession stand with a few of my girl friends to get icecream. I had recently been introduced to picolé, a kind of Brazilian popsicle, and attempted to order one. My favorite flavor is coconut (coco, in Portuguese). However, when ordering, I accentuated the second rather than the first syllable, so what came out of my mouth was actually, "Good afternoon. I would like a poop popsicle." The lady behind the counter kindly corrected me, then laughed to the point of tears.

2007-02-22T15:03:00.000-02:00

I'm back from the retreat- it was amazing. Definitely different from any other retreat I've ever been on, but amazing nonetheless. There were around 200 of us altogether, staying at a public school in Piracicaba. The church arranged for mattresses to be brought for all of us, and we slept on the floor in the classrooms. Everyone brought their own plates and silverware to eat with and we did the dishes together after every meal. The entire weekend cost less than ten US dollars. The praise band was incredible, though I didn't know the words to most of the songs. We had services every morning and every night, and everything else was free time. I starting to learn how to samba while I was there, too. Sunday night the church's theatre group performed, and Monday night a group called Jeovanissi (sp?) did a show called Tenho Fome (which means I'm hungry). The group was raising awareness and funds for an orphanage in Angola- visit their website at tenhofome.com.br. All of the performances honestly blew me away. There were many new faces and plenty of opportunities to practice Portuguese.
It will be a long time before I sleep in my own bedroom again, but I feel at home. And though my mother and father and brother are thousands of miles away, I have found a family.

2007-02-16T16:41:00.000-02:00

I'm about to leave for a retreat with the church I've been going to- Comunidade Restoracão- so you probably won't hear from me for almost a week. Just fyi...
Hope you are all staying warm in Texas! Happy belated Valentines day!

2007-02-15T11:07:00.000-02:00

Classes started this week... sort of. I'm taking four classes, but, apparently, three of them won't start until after Carnaval. This whole week has been pretty stressful- registering for and findng classes, registering with the federal police (I got finger printed and everything), trying to get a local phone number, finding a place to live, blah, blah, blah. Lots of paper work and waiting. On the bright side, I have already made some incredible friends here. They have truly made me re-evaluate the way that I treat people, especially foreigners in America. They are constantly eager to help us and to meet our needs, whether it be a ride to church or hunting down peanut butter (which we did find, for $13 US dollars a jar). I have been shown more kindness than I could ever have expected or deserved, and learned humility and gratefulness in measures that I never knew possible.

2007-02-09T19:28:00.000-02:00

I haven't been able to get on here and post lately, but, not to worry, I am still alive. Though apparently Anna Nicole is not. We were just told this a few minutes ago, and I realized that I don't mind being out of touch with certain things in America. Namely Access Hollywood.
Well, to sum up the last few days: I may have mentioned that we are living for free at Collegio Piracicabano. Allow me to amend that statement- we do not pay in cash, we pay in humiliation. Earlier this week, we were "invited" to play soccer with a group of high school seniors. Brazilian high school seniors. Oh the shame. I got my cast off on Tuesday. I only had it for a little more than a week, and the doctors never really clarified if it was actually broken or just badly sprained. It doesn't really hurt too much, but I do have a lovely new tan line. We spent a lot of time this week on campus, trying to figure out which classes to take. As of now, I am taking History of Brazil, Literature of Brazil, Language and Society, and probably a couple of others that haven't been finalized yet. I will also be assistant teaching the theatre classes for first through fourth graders at Collegio Piracicabano starting next Tuesday.
Right now, we're working on finding a place to live, which is quite the adventure. I'll fill you all in soon!

2007-02-05T17:53:00.000-02:00

i did get to go rafting after all, this weekend. we left piracicaba at 7 a.m. and drove 2 hours through the brazilian countryside to a town called brotas. i could not believe how beautiful everything was- the view, the landscape, the rafting guides... oh, where was i? i looked a little ridiculous through all of it, though, because we literally seran wrapped my left arm from my elbow down. we went ziplining, too, and ended the day at the country house of the president of Unimep. we had another barbecue, played more truco, laid in hammocks, and ended the day with another soccer game where i managed not to break anything else.
and yesterday was my 21st birthday:
i woke up earlier than usual and decided to take a walk through the city. i went to a lanchonete a few blocks away and ordered breakfast. it may sound strange, but i loved being able to ask for directions in portuguese, actually finding the place, and ordering what i wanted. it felt like independence, i guess. we went to a restaurant called finestra last night. it's an incredibly nice place, by either american or brazilian standards. the ambiance was straight out of the movies, wonderful. we ordered dessert and let the rest of the world just fade away. later that night, we were invited to estaçao cultural, and were introduced to forro music and dance. i'm not sure whether i lost or found myself there, but it was certainly a side of me that i had never seen before. there's not an ounce of elbow room or space to breath, bob marley and charlie chaplin plastered to the walls, and a postage stamp of a dance floor. and wednesday, when it opens again, cant't come soon enough.
and somehow i know that some time in the future, i will stumble open a familiar scent or an old photo and remember all of this. and, like a connoiseur regarding a fine wine, i will think, ah, yes, that was a good year.

2007-02-02T18:36:00.000-02:00

don´t have time to say much, but i just wanted to let everyone know that i can use skype now. (its a sort of instant messenger where you use computers to talk on the phone) anyways, i would love to talk to all of you and hear some english, so, if you download the software from skype.com, my username is carlyanners and, on weekdays, i'm usually online around 2 or 3 in the afternoon texas time.
we're going rafting tomorrow, though we aren't sure yet whether or not i will be allowed to. i'm not sure what's going on sunday, probably going out for my birthday. hope you all have a wonderful weekend!

2007-02-01T17:24:00.000-02:00

I hope you all are prepared for what could be a very traumatic read: tuesday night, i had my first life or death experience with a brazilian cockroach. i know this may come as a shock to you, but behind my facade of confidence, bravery, and strengh is a screaming, skiddish twelve year old girl.
while brian, nick, and ruben were in the gym playing "soccer" (i.e. embarrassing themselves in front of the natives), megan and i headed upstairs to find bug spray, perhaps our most prized possession next to our jar of peanut butter and my 6 pack of dr. peppers. half way up the stairs, she spotted it: a barata, a brazililan cockroach, flown in straight from the amazon to torment the american tourists. our immediate and level headed reaction was to scream and call the boys for help. they, however, would not be bothered in the midst of their game, so megan and i were left to fend for ourselves. by the time we returned to the room, the barata had set up new head quarters behind our bathroom door, underneath a broom. megan trapped it under the broom and swept it into the hallway. i proceeded to jump on the broom, hoping to kill it in the process. through out all of this, we were both screaming at the top of our lungs. in our final attempt, megan lifted the broom and i threw a shoe at our tiny yet powerful enemy. victory!
we left the battlefied new women, empowered with the knowledge that, if we can defeat the barata, we can learn the language, trek the amazon, and samba like natives.
hell hath no fury like an exterminator!

2007-01-30T18:50:00.000-02:00

so i broke my wrist yesterday...
we were playing soccer in the rain, i slipped and fell, and then got an up close and personal look at public health care in brazil. i really can`t complain. i mean, i didn`t pay a cent for the consult, the x-rays, or my cast. it was all free. and i know that geico has been the source of controversy over the treatment of cavemen in the states lately, but, let me tell you, they certainly receive equal employment opportunities in piracicaba. in fact, i encountered a fine young neanderthal yesterday while having x-rays taken of my arm. not exactly the most gentle of creatures, but efficient nonetheless. i don`t know when the cast will come off, but i go back next week for more x-rays.
other than that, life goes on as usual. we visited a couple of english classes this morning, which was fun. kids here start learning english in first grade, sometimes earlier. maybe america should take a hint... we`re supposed to register for classes tomorrow, which is exciting.
and, for now, that`s all folks!

2007-01-29T13:30:00.000-02:00

Saturday morning was our first Portuguese lesson- at 8 a.m. Our teacher, Marcelo, taught us lots of basic survival phrases, and then took us to the market to order breakfast and practice what we had learned. One of the really strange things is that, at fast food restaurants and bakeries, you don`t pay until you`ve already eaten. It`s a very trusting community. You take your food, walk off, and come back to pay when it`s convenient. We got to try tons of weird, tropical fruit that was amazing. Apples and oranges will never taste the same again.
That night, we went back to Rua de Porto. We hadn`t been there long when a 6 year old girl (who we later found out was the daughter of the bar owner) came over and started talking to all of us. She was hilarious- asking us to speak Portuguese, then making fun of our accents. I let her see my camera, and she took lots of pictures- mainly of herself. Then she would take our picture, tell the guys that they weren`t smiling right or that they looked ugly, and boss us around. Cool kid.
Yesterday, we went to our first authentic Brazilian barbeque/churrasca with a group of professors from Unimep. These things last all day long, and you eat all day long. Everything was great, except for the chicken hearts. I just couldn`t bring myself to try them. We also learned to play truco (Brazilian poker) which is, apparently, essential to college life here. Afterwards, I went to church with Marcelo. The big service in Brazil is at night- it started at 7 and, when we left at 10, it was still going strong. It was a very... charismatic service, to say the least. But it made me feel more at home.
This week is going to be pretty busy- Portuguese lessons in the morning, working with high school and elementary students in the afternoon, and (hopefully) going white water rafting and rapelling this Saturday. Ta ta for now!

2007-01-26T17:17:00.000-02:00

It`s amazing how much Portuguese you can learn in just a couple of days. For instance, last night, I learned and utilized the following very useful phrases:

"Ela nao precisa mais cerveja." (She doesn`t need another beer.)
"Eu nao quero voce. Nao me beija." (I don`t like you. Don`t kiss me.)

It was an interesting night,indeed. Our host, Fabiana, took us to Rua de Porto for dinner around 10 p.m. It`s an area on the Piracicaba River with a lot of restaurants and music venues. After we finished dinner around midnight, we moved to the place next door where a reggae band was playing. Within about ten minutes, the three of us had a group of new best friends eager to practice their English. Eventually, we got onto the subject of how different Brazilian and American cultures are, specifically relationships. I tried to explain that American friends don`t kiss each other all of the time as Brazilians do, which prompted the epiphane from my friend Junior "Oh... first you are friends, and then you hug!" We stayed there until around 3:30.

We didn`t get out of bed until almost noon today. Brian and Ruben (the two other SMU students) arrived soon after. We walked through the town plaza, where we soon ran into the same cop, Daniel, who had walked us across town a few days earlier to find internet. He insisted on taking us to a museum nearby dedicated to the first president of Brazil, who was born in Piracicaba. As we were walking there, I noticed that he is undeniably Brazil`s Barney Fife. Tall, lanky, a goofy grin, and I have a sneaking suspicion that he carries his bullets in his pocket, too. At the museum tour, I was somehow designated as translator, which, believe me, was a bit of a stretch after only two days in Brazil. I think I got the jist of it, though.

I thinks that`s it... I`m off to work on my tan. Just kidding.

2007-01-25T16:15:00.000-02:00

I learned two very important words in Portuguese today- shoes and sale. Milton (our host professor with Unimep) and his sister Fabiana took us to Shopping Center (yes, that is actually the name) this afternoon. We got a late start to the day, after the three of us fell asleep at 8:30 last night, all woke up at 1 a.m., and then slept until 10. I haven´t really explained our living situation- we are staying in the visitors quarters at Collegio Piracicabano. Megan and I share a room that has 3 bunk beds and a desk, and Nick, Brian, and Ruben share another room. There is a small common room and a dining table outside of our rooms. When we woke up this morning, one of the maids had made breakfast for all of us, which we were not expecting. Everyone here is so willing to help and make us feel welcome. Tonight, Fabiana is taking us to Rua de Porto, a street on the bank of the Piracicaba River, for dinner. I`ll post pictures as soon as I can!

2007-01-24T17:23:00.000-02:00

I can´t believe I`m finally here. A ten hour plane ride, 2 hours getting through customs, and 3 hours in a van, and I`m finally Piracicaba. We moved into our temporary home on the Unimep campus this afternoon and went exploring around the town. The smallest things can be really exciting when you barely speak a word of Portuguese. The three of us (Megan, Nick, and I) managed to get Reais (Brazilian currency) out of an ATM and find a grocery store. Next to the grocery store was a small market called Tai Pei. We went in to check it out, I noticed a bunch of Chinese memorabilia all over the walls, and, suffice it to say, on my first day in Brazil, I have already found a Chinese conversation partner. I am a dork. But I can now buy my fruits and vegetables cheaper than anyone else thanks to my new friend Su Li. Our next mission was to locate internet access. I asked a police officer if he knew where to find it, and, in the end, he and one of his colleagues escorted us nearly a mile across town to make sure that we found it.
I guess that´s all for now... hopefully soon I will have internet access on my own computer. Until then, "Roots, rock reggae!" Because I heard that song 4 or 5 times in DFW and it has yet to get out of my head. Chau!

2007-01-19T04:15:00.000-02:00

I know that no one reads this yet, so this is more for my own peace of mind than anything else.

The Brazilian consulate told me this morning that my visa is on its way. Today was my last shift at work until this summer. I've started to say my goodbye's to friends, though I have yet to start packing. For some reason, though, I don't think any of it will really sink in until Tuesday as I'm making my bed. I'm not sure why, but that has always given me a sense of finality before I leave to go anywhere. So, this Tuesday, I will make my bed. I will know that I am leaving my home, if only for a while. I will miss the dear ones that I must part with, and I can but imagine the adventures that will surely come.

move over mastercard

2007-01-13T04:52:00.000-02:00

Overnighting application to Houston and back: $30
Reciprocity fee due to America charging Brazil too much for visas: $100
Processing fees, etc.: $70
Legalization fees: $20
Charges for two money orders: $8
Eventually, hopefully, maybe, keep-your-fingers-crossed, miraculously getting a visa before you leave the country: priceless