The other night, I was upstairs in Clara's room using the internet (her room is the focal point of all wifi signals in the universe, and subsequently people are always trailing in and out of it-- I'm not sure if she minds or not, actually.) and Beto came upstairs and said the new James Bond movie was starting- which I hadn't seen. I finished up doing the straining activity of doing absolutely nothing on twitter, ran downstairs, and plopped down on the couch. Originally, it was just him and I relaxing and talking about how cool the intro was, (seriously- it was so well done I couldn't believe it, and it was only the first 10 minutes,) and then Clara came down too. Half-way through the multitude of explosions and Bonding (HAHAHA LAUGH AT THE PUN,) my dad came down and joined us too. Although most of the time was spent in silence, or commenting briefly on a particular part of a movie, I really felt at home just chilling on the couch as we all took unspoken turns drifting off to sleep at different parts of the movie with a large majority of my host family on the couch.
The next day held a special gift- the final piece to the exchange student puzzle for our Rotary district! Aliisa came into Goiania from Sao Paulo around 3:30 PM, and we were all there to welcome her to the new city which she would call her lovely home. It was a mixture of hilarious and surreal to see the same confused I-have-no-idea-what's-going-on-but-I'm-gonna-smile-and-be-excited-and-oh-no-awkward-hug-I-don't-know-these-people-okay-smile-at-the-camera-haha-I-don't-speak-portuguese-oh-my-god-this-is-happening-this-is-happening look on her face.
(((I have a hyphen problem)))
So all the while she was getting a heavy dose of smiling, nodding, and hoping it wasn't a question- Moritz and I were talking about meeting up sometime soon, it turns out the gym (called Academia here) has Muy Thai classes. There's nothing more spectacular than two skinny white dudes in a slap fight, so we made a promise to show the world what two lanky teenagers can do to each other. Which will probably end up not being a lot.
EDIT: On second thought, Moritz is at least a foot taller than me, so the ball is definitely in his court when it comes to the beat downs.
EDITSQUARED: We are now officially the "Gringo Trio"
Later on that night, I was sitting upstairs watching Wilfred (Beto has a MASSIVE [and rather tasteful] collection of movies and shows plundered from the not-exactly-legal part of the internet, which is definitely awesome. Also the end of season 1 is crazy. Watch it) when Beto called for me to come downstairs. At the time, I was feeling pretty tired and not that sociable, so I was planning on just popping downstairs to greet the new voice coming up from the stairwell.
Turning the corner, I saw a new face that I was introduced to- his name is 100% completely Brazilian and hard to pronounce and spell, so we just call him "J." I was sitting at the table outside pretending to understand what was going on, when I heard J mention the White Stripes, a band I really like. So I said in my simple gringo Portuguese "I love the White Stripes!" and after that, something clicked in the conversation. The subject was clearly on music, which allowed me to listen for key words and band names (usually English names) so I could jump in and add a "I like that, I dislike that, oh they're good! Do you like ___ song? Do you enjoy ___?" and it totally opened up a new spectrum of conversation for me. It was really nice- even though I didn't completely understand everything that was being said, I had my first grasp of following a conversation in this incredibly tricky language. Also, J plays the guitar like a brilliant 17th century court musician who is both loved by the people for his talent and payed handsomely to perform. Point being, he's very gifted. He offered to teach me sometime, and even if we never get around to sitting with guitars trying to jump the language barrier via music, the gesture was genuine enough to make me feel really welcome.
After the refreshing change in pace, feeling part of a real discussion, my host dad came out in inform us that I'd be having my first Brazilian barbecue that night. Having no idea what to expect, I simply sat patiently, watched, and listened to everything that was going on.
My dad brought out a multitude of sausages and steaks for us to eat. Behind him lay a square hole in the wall, a slow roasting fire-pit that he uses to cook. In the bottom lay charcoal, followed by a series of grates ascending from bottom to top to place different meats on, allowing for different temperatures, different tastes, and different styles of cooking. As soon as he stepped foot into the grill area, his composition transformed from "dad," to "chef." He elegantly sliced away the plastic wrap around the meats with a flick of his hand, guiding the knife around the different portions to sever the steaks into the perfect serving sizes. His masterful hands ran through the motion of splaying salt over the beef for flavoring in a familiar pattern, and in the same fluid motion he guided the food directly into the heart of the fire without breaking stride from the beautiful culinary path he was on. Nestling it perfectly amid the slow rolling flame, he moved directly to preparing the sausages in the same skillful fashion. Anyone could tell by looking at him that he was happy to be making food for all of us.
After drinking some Guarana to pass the time (a intensely cool, refreshing soda in Brazil made from a local type of berry- which is now my absolutely favorite by the way. At school today I had three cans of it for lunch. I cannot stop drinking it. Send help,) my dad finally pulled the first round of meat from the cooking inferno. He delicately and efficiently cut through it and put it on a smaller plate for all of us to
It was "estupendo." The most perfectly cooked, tasteful, soft steak I have ever had the pleasure of eating. Served with some fresh bread from the nearby bakery- it was an absolute delight.
The steak and sausage kept coming, the guarana kept pouring, and the conversation kept flowing. I was so full after all was said and done that I could hardly make it to my bed.
The next morning I-
...
Okay, sit down.
Seriously, I just want to make sure you're sitting.
The next morning I woke up at 5:30 in the morning to get ready for school. We live about 40 minutes away from the school, and it starts at 7:00 sharp (Sharp for Brazil, which punctuality wise is actually more dull/soft/blunt/not so sharp at all,) so we have to be out the door by 6:20. I showered, brushed my teeth, got dressed, and ran downstairs where my mother had made me the cutest breakfast of a little grilled cheese sandwich and some chocolate milk. I devoured it, grabbed my bag and a sweatshirt, and stepped foot out the door.
It was COLD.
Not Minnesota cold, but cold. Around 50 degrees, which was an unsettling experience because every other minute of my time in Brazil had been spent in 90 degree weather. Which is great- the house is perfectly constructed to allow the most airflow and shade that it sometimes boggles my mind how well planned the architecture is. Anyway, I grabbed my sweatshirt and we drove off into the beautiful Brazilian sunrise.
My mom gave me a slip saying that my uniform was being processed, so I didn't get yelled at for not having it- in reality it's just a t-shirt with the school name in it, and I can wear whatever else I want. Jeans is the common bottom, with shoes or the Brazilian brand of amazingly comfortable flipflops- havianas. After dropping me off, she made sure I had "segunda ano" memorized, which means "second year" in Portuguese, because that's the class level they have me in. So I went to find someone who worked there and said "Eu sou um intercambista, eu nao falo muito portugues, mas eu sou em meu segundo ano" (I'm an exchange student, I don't speak a lot of PT but I'm in second year.) or something to that effect. Which, might I narcissistically add quick, I was super proud of because even making a sentence like that up on the fly took some major mental backflips. Even if it is grammatically wrong.
Which honestly it might not be, I have no idea.
Eventually I wound up in what I can only assume is the principals office, and he spoke absolutely no English- and, as we all know, I speak absolutely little Portuguese. He was speaking quickly about rules and such before I tried to find a polite point to interject "Dude I do not understand a single word coming out of your mouth," in a much more formal fashion, of course. He seemed actually a bit frustrated, which is understandable and totally natural, but he also rolled his eyes and then said "typical," in English which was a little excessive.
Oh well.
He brought in a very pretty girl who didn't have an extensive vocabulary, but rather a flawless accent- so the two balanced each other out very well and made for a decent circle of translation going on. Kids started pouring into the principals office to stare and ogle, which he didn't seem to mind at first. But after the 10th of so kid was cramming into the room and yelled and everyone left- which was a little scary.
Essentially the conversation boils down to: School starts at 7, I can be late three times before "punishment," I have to wear my uniform as soon as possible. Also there's another exchange student in my class.
Right away I plopped down next to the other blond hair, white skinned kid thinking he was an exchange student too- which reflecting back upon I feel strange about, I think that might be considered racist. It wasn't intentional. Oops. And quickly found out that he was a Brazilian kid who just happened to have very light skin and rather blond hair. Turns out the actual exchange kid in my class, from Denmark, looked very Brazilian which threw me off. He doesn't speak English very well, and neither of us speak Portuguese, but it came up in conversation that he speaks German- and so do I (a little). Living close to Germany in the grand scheme of things, his was very excellent and mine was lesser, though I like to think I held my ground. My German teacher would have been proud. Speaking of, I need to email here that I'm writing this now. And my Spanish teacher(s)
So we spoke in German for a while before class started, which was really cool because I haven't really had a chance to exercise that language for a while. I was disappointed with the loss of efficiency that I had, but what can one expect when surrounded by not their mother language, or the second language they've studied, or the third language they've studied, but the fourth. Once upon a time I'd have thought myself mighty impressive writing that down for the world to see "Yes, I have dabbled in many languages." At this point, though, they're all crashing together in this terribly violent mental explosion of different conjugations, pronouns, sentence structure, and accents.
In my head, at this moment, I have:
English.
Not English.
The barriers are breaking down and I fear for my mental sanity.
(((((((((((I'm rambling again))))))))))))
Class started, and a HUGE beefy dude with a dread-lock pony tail strode into the room and had a commanding presence like lightning- by which I mean everyone was really scared of him and every time to opened his mouth the class stared in wonderment. He taught philosophy, which was super dope- excuse me, "muito dope," but I understood none of it except "Marx, Locke, and socioeconomic." In Brazilian schools, unlike American schools, the teachers rotate and the students stay in the same room.
After he left, a really cool dude with an afro, sweet glasses and a rockin' sweater came up to me, and in flawless English he said "What's up gringo, what's your name?" He is my new best friend right now. His name is Gabriel, and he is not only hilarious, but Englishly gifted- which is awesome. He introduced me to his friend Hector, who looks like he could punch someone so hard in the face that the pressure from their eyes exploding would level a city. He's super nice, actually. Like really nice. Looks can be very deceiving.
Every two class periods, there is a 15 minute "lunch" period where you can go downstairs, play ping pong, chill, and buy snacks. Much better, I think, than the American five hours, half hour, two hours that I had previously. They ordered for me after telling 'em what I wanted, because my Portuguese is very not-excellent. So I got a gaurana drink and some chocolate, and it was great.
We sat in the plaza of the school on a bench, and sat like we had been friends for months already. Gabriel in the middle with his arms on our shoulders talking about girls, skating, other things. It was a really, really good time and I'm glad these guys reached out to me right away.
I will keep it brief, but it is necessary for me to mention: the girls here are GORGEOUS. All of them, all the time, fashion, hair, it's all perfect. Okay that's it, I promise.
Class came back into session, and Gabriel sat next to me. I was very surprised at the difference in attentiveness in the students, many were asleep or on the phones with no repercussion at all. So while the teacher was teaching math during the third hour, Gabriel and I spent the time chatting between questions on the board.
The perk of not speaking the language is that I don't have to do homework or tests.
Excellent.
The day ended, and my mom picked me up from school- driving home she asked me all about it. I couldn't reply very articulately as my brain had been beaten up very thoroughly by a different tongue and I had no fight left in me.
We got home, had a delicious lunch, and then Beto and I had to rush to the Police station to apply for my Brazilian ID. We printed off some documents, filled out a few forms, and then got in the car. It was two thirty, and we needed new photos and a receipt for paying the $150 for the identification tax- all of these were on opposite sides of town, with the final destination of the police station on another opposite end of town. It was a rush. We got in the car, cranked The Offspring, and added some extra danger to the normally hectic Brazilian traffic agenda.
I love hanging out with my host brother, he's super cool and was an exchange student a few years ago so he totally understands everything that's going on in my head. His English is flawless, so whenever he translates something for me he breaks it down very well, making sure I understand everything that's said before continuing, and then uses new words in a different context. I learn a ton every time we chill.
After running all the errands, we were just a bit shy of making it to the deadline of 4 o clock when the police station closes (partly because we had to exchange American dollars into Brazilian currency, and the lady took F O R E V E R.) so we decided to head home. At this point, I was exhausted so I ran upstairs to relax and eat candy, and I eventually fell asleep until dinner.
Which I just got done eating- it was spaghetti like, with a hamburger (no buns or anything, just the meat) and it was AMAZING.
Also Lucy the dog just knocked off one of my rings and broke it, which isn't a problem but I think she ate one of the pieces...
Now I'm back upstairs and getting ready for bed again, so boa noite.
Alex
No comments:
Post a Comment