P-A-R-A-T-Y

Last week I was in an excruciating teacher's training at school from Monday-Thursday. Our trainer doesn't give much information about the methodology of the school. To make matters worse she speaks with a condescending Brazilian version of a proper English accent. " Alex if you aren't careful with that bag of crisps they just might ruin your well-new trainers!" Bloody Hell!
Anyways training ended on Thursday and the other teachers and myself planned on taking an excursion to the beach. The other teachers are a mixed and diverse bunch; there is myself a white-American Jew (with a whole lotta soul I might add), Roman a Ukrainian Immigrant Jew who moved to the United States as a young child, Peter, a 6 foot 4 Canadian from Winnipeg, or as we call him Petão which translates to Big Peter, and Peter a 5 foot 4 From England, or as we call him Petinho which translates to little Peter.
We had no clue as to which beach to choose from out of the extensive collection that litters the coast. One of the other professors, A Brazilian named Flavio, who we suspect to be a bit of a taleteller recommended we visit a beach town named Trinidade. Brazil's month long holiday season started this past weekend and we struggled to find Pousada (Brazilian Bed and Breakfast) to host us. (Note: I have extreme difficulty pronouncing PO-sadas because of those god-forbidden Salvadorian delicacies PU-sadas.) Puxa Vida!
We took the first bus on Friday morning leaving from our local Cometa bus terminal. We were a raucous, unruly bunch of passengers who were most likely a thorn in the side of the tired commuters on their way to work in the city. We arrived at the central bus station Rodoviária Tietê and we immediately bought our tickets towards the beach. Petão, Roman and I bought tickets towards the colonial tourist town of Paraty. English Petinho bought tickets towards the Paulista surfing town of Ubatuba where he knew a rich Brazilian friend who he met across the pond. I helped a friendly Korean tourist buy tickets to Paraty and he in gratitude told me I had a British accent. I wasn't quite sure how to respond.
We boarded our bus at 11:00 AM and it took 1.5 hours to leave the gloomy, cloudy, drizzly city that is called São Paulo. Once we finally got out of the city the beautiful countryside of Brazil presented itself and I in return fell asleep. The bus was full of Gringos from the United Kingdom and Ireland, as well as the overworked, overstressed Paulistano looking to escape to paradise for the weekend. The bus made a few pit stops allowing people to get out stretch their legs and grab a bite to eat. The drive was on a windy highway that traveled through steep forested mountain passes overlooking lush green vistas complimented by ocean views and brightly colored trees. The bus driver sped through the tight turns as if he had an appointment he was late for. Luckily the evangelist girl with the odd vampire-teeth on the bus who tossed her cookies was sitting with my friend and not me.
We got off the bus at a little town named Patrimônio and waited for the shuttle to Trindade. A few ticks of the clock later a "people carrier” or what my British colleague refers to as a van arrived. We jumped into the van and it climbed to the top of a steep hill that descended to magnificent ocean view. The bus stopped in the middle of a lively town filled with families, shop owners and dirty, dirty Brazilian Hippies. We had booked a pousada with the intention of rooming 4 but upon arrival we looked for a cheaper hostel and found one within minutes. We left our stuff in the room, went and got some BBQ steak on a kabob and headed to the beach. We spent some time at the beach waiting for the sun to emerge that unfortunately proved futile. We got some more meat on a stick, and took a nap until 1 AM. We headed down to the beach and went to a Reggae or Hay-gee party as its pronounced here. It was a cool mix of late teenagers to people in their late 20s. Most of the people were from Sao Paulo and were visiting from the weekend.
We met a large Brazilian organized tour group that frequently takes trips to locations all over Brazil. They were really nice and we hung out with a bunch of them by a bonfire until early in the morning. When my friend Roman took an early morning dip in the water I got the unique cultural exchange opportunity to teach them the slang shrinkage.
The next day we woke up and met another guest of the Pousada, Thiago. I was walking around with my camera and he asked to take a look at it. Turns out he's a photographer for the car company Fiat. Thiago's parents own a restaurant and the Dono of the Pousada's other job is a meat and seafood distributor, he often does business with Thiago’s family. Carlos and his Trinidadense wife took us on a tour through Trindade's coastal rainforest. Carlos would often stop pick, a leaf or a piece of fruit, tell me its use and then eat it. I was brave and ate his "hangover remedy" which left a bad after taste in my mouth that I still haven't seemed to get rid of. He took us up to an area scattered with drunken Brasileiros. There was a large boulder with a tiny opening people were squeezing through and magically emerging meters away. We all decided to try our luck. As soon as the galera discovered we were American they instantly showed their welcoming spirit or in other terms yelled at us hot breathed, "You're going to die gringo!!!" Nice folk. But it wasn't actually as intimidating as they made it seem. As soon as you squeezed through the opening you were in a shallow pool of water. Later that afternoon Thiago and I walked to a Boulder enclosed part of the Ocean that made the water tranquil enough to resemble a pool. The natives call this ecological wonder piscina natural, or natural pool. OUTRAGEOUS! We got some snorkels and saw some cool fish. We took a boat back to the other side of the coast.
Later that night we returned to the Hay-gee party and I introduced us to some Paulistanas. We made friends quickly and went to a Forró party.
Forró is technically an American English word. Legend has it when the American corporations were making their first bids on Brazilian resources in the Northeastern region of the country they decided to woo their subject by throwing a party. As they didn't speak any Portuguese and the Brazilians spoke little English (a fact I intend to change upon) they told someone that the party would be For All. However Brazilians have an incredibly difficult time pronouncing the Hard R sound so it was lost in translation. They wrote a big sign saying there would be a party that would be Forró pronounced Fo-haw or For All. The name stuck and now its one of Brazil’s most popular music. Forró is of a mix between zydeco and country rhythms and its most predominant instruments are the accordion, triangle and a two-sided drum that resembles a small bass drum called the zabumba. I'm actually not bad at dancing the Forró but there is some stiff competition amongst the natives.
My friend Roman was talking to one of the girls and having Thiago translate for him, or so he thought. Before he could say another drunken romantic line Thiago was dancing with his girl and shoving his tongue down her throat. Whoops. Anyways the girls were nice even if the one I was talking to for most of the night had a strapping cold sore.
We left the next morning to catch our bus to the neighboring colonial town of Paraty. Paraty was a colonial port town used by the Portuguese to ship gold from the mineral rich region of Minas Gerais to Lisbon, Portugal. We rented some bikes and quickly realized the road we were on was steep and only getting steeper. This wasn't tolerable for my colleagues who had gone through several packs of cigarettes over the course of the weekend. We returned the bikes as we quickly had to catch a bus and wanted to wander through the historic downtown before we left. The bus left Paraty at 4:40 and crawled through the dense weekend traffic returning in São Paulo at 11:00.

I put the Jew in Jundiaí

Last Monday Joice and I hopped on a plane to São Paulo from Salvador. Joice wasn´t originally going to accompany on this part of my journey but she arranged to reapply for her Visa at the São Paulo consulate.
We arrived in São Paulo at 5 PM, my boss had agreed to pick us up at the airport at 7PM, so before he arrived we walked the massive airport making an attempt for me to register with the Federal police. Instantly I was shocked by the diversity of São Paulo, In Salvador I was diverse and when a pale Jewish boy from the suburbs is diversity you know you are a long way from home! People were no longer gawking at my blinding white hue. São Paulo is just a lot more diverse in terms of ethnic background because during the 1800´s large groups of immigrants from Italy, Spain, Japan and Lebanon added to the ethnic diversity of the city and state. As we were walking through the corridors of Garulhos airport we noticed the increased mixture of ancestry in comparison to Salvador.
In Salvador the standard costume is brightly colored tank tops, board shorts and Brazilian Haviana sandals. However in São Paulo you see a lot more diversity in the dress of the people as well. You can see depressed teenagers making an attempt to dress like American depressed teenagers from the late 90s, stressed businessmen talking on blackberries wearing a three piece suit and women dressed in lavish multicolored dresses that require second glances.(NOTE: thankfully the hipster movement is contained and under control in this country.)
Eventually we found the federal police after a long and frustrating hour of walking through the airport. Unfortunately they told us that I had to register at a different federal police in a neighboring city but thankfully it killed enough time to take us to 7 PM. Joice and I waited at an airport cafe and I pulled out my laptop because I had seen that the São Paulo airport was a wi-fi hotspot. I got really excited as I haven´t been able to find even the weakest signal in this country, however the Hot Spot proved fruitless as You would have to pay for the access and the registration for the account was easier said than done. (I haven´t been able to hook my computer up to the internet once since arriving so that is why I haven´t put up any pictures yet. Sorry. They are mostly of guys in Speedos anyways so unless that's your thing you´ll just have to wait.)
As I was putting my laptop away I heard my name over the loud speaker telling me to go to the information desk on the second floor. I walked upstairs and waiting with a sign that said Oxbridge Customized Courses and my name stood Henrique my boss for the next year. Henrique looked completely different from my expectations, a little heavy-set, pale blue eyes, short greying brown hair, oculated, dressed professionally with a well pressed shirt, slacks and stylish designer tie. In fact Henrique is one beard, kip pa, and pa is away from working in Manhattan´s diamond cutting industry. I´m not sure if He´s Jewish and I didn´t want to ask but it takes one to know one. We gave our introductions and I took him downstairs to meet Joice.
Henrique is a really nice, well-organized, professional person. He spoke to me mostly in Portuguese however he was trained in England so when he speaks English he has a little bit of a Cockney drawl. He picked up his car and we hit the road on our way to Jundiaí. We passed through São Paulo on our way to the country side of São Paulo state asking Henrique questions about the city, himself and making random chit chat.
Jundiaí, the city I will be staying for the next six-months to year is 30 minutes north of São Paulo city. It has about 400,000 habitants and is on the boarder of being tropical and sub-tropical climate. I knew this because of the sign we passed on the highway stating "you have now passed the Tropic of Capricorn" Henrique gave us a quick tour of the neighborhood in his car and then we got to the "republic" or shared apartment.
The Dono or owner of the house came down and gave me a choice of two rooms, one a single plain square room with a bed, dresser and "desk" which in actuality is a sewing station with a communal bathroom to be shared with two other roomates. The other option was a double-room that would be shared with one of the incoming teachers with a bathroom to be shared with one other roomate. However I didn´t really want to share a room so I took the single bedroom.
The house is a bit of a dump. There is a long dark hallway that leads up a short flight of stairs to the communal lounge. There is a TV with cable and a telephone that only receives incoming calls. The kitchen is dark with a simple oven and a faucet that splashes water when turned on. The bathroom is decent. I moved my stuff into the room and we told the Dono that Joice would be staying for the first night and then she would get a hotel room for the remaining nights. This was a lie. We offered to pay him for the extra guest but he felt uncomfortable hosting a female in an all male residence. But what he doesn´t know won´t kill him.
My room is dusty and probably not properly cleaned before I arrived. I had a house greeting from a new friend, The largest cockroach I´ve ever seen outside of a zoo. This cockroach was about the size of my ring finger with wings, large antennae and the color of rust. Needless to say dinner was served! However you get for what you pay for . I pay R$230 per month which is about $115 American. Its right down the street from the school, the bus station, a grocery store and a pretty raunchy strip club! It will do for now and its just nice having a place to stay as soon as you land on the ground.
After dinner I met a few of the housemates some shy but nice Paulistos named João (John) and Paulo. Joice and I passed out in my humble abode hoping the cockroaches wouldn´t come back to say hello.

Feliz Ano Novo/Happy New Year

New Years Eve is a magical time in the country of Brazil, as far as I can tell from the images broadcasted into Joice’s living room provided by the Globo television network. People in Brazil are very enthusiastic about the New Year often wishing one and other a happy new year an entire week in advance.
Joice, her cousin Leninha and I returned from the beach around 5:30 and most of the house was lounging around in casual clothing. Regina, Joice’s mother had just finished cleaning up lunch and began preparing for dinner. We ate lunch around 6 o’ clock showered up and took a nap. When I woke up around 10:30 everyone was frantically preparing for the special occasion with their color coordinated clothes for the event. Brazilians wear colors corresponding to what they would like in the new year for example White=peace, yellow=money, pink/green= love. Joice’s family underwent a metamorphosis from casual house clothing to chic New Year’s attire despite the fact nobody was going anywhere and nobody was coming.
At 11:00 Globo began broadcasting images from the southern cities of the country, Sao Paulo, Rio de Janeiro and Florianopolis. Salvador as well as the rest of the North of Brazil has abandoned the practice of daylight savings over the past few years. Demonstrating their relaxed attitude and nature in comparison to their industrious southern counterparts. Rio de Janeiro the country’s largest and most famous celebration held a 20-minute firework display. (Which is 15 minutes too long if you ask me) as the clock ticked down to its final moments of 2007 the family congregated in the living room everyone dressed to impress. Joaci, Joice’s dad popped a few bottles of Champagne, both flavors apple and grape. We held out glasses high in the air and toasted to old memories and new beginnings. (Which I hope includes a more comfortable living situation for me.) We all hugged and kissed and wished each other a happy new year.
Then the food was set on the table. Lentils with pieces of sausage were the main course. According to Brazilian tradition one must eat 3 spoonfuls of the dish sitting down with their feet held in the air to ensure good luck. I was dubious of the effectiveness of the ritual, as I don’t feel much luckier in the slightest. Then the remaining dishes were set out. Mashed potatoes, baked ham, salad, fresh bread, rice and dry pork that was slightly overcooked much to everyone’s disappointment. Everyone enjoyed their meal while watching a new year’s eve variety program on TV that would make Dick Clark blush.
After dinner we danced to the energetic carnaval music of Bahia called Axé, the northeastern regional forró and of course Brazil’s legendary Samba. The room quickly turned sweaty and silly like a pubescent middle school dance party. The dancing was greatly enhanced by the manischevitz reminiscent alcohol I mentioned before.
I asked Joice’s mother Regina to dance. I received accolades and praise for my acute sense of rhythm and grace. I later joined a forró quadrilha which is like a square dance/ bar mitzvah Hora fusion. The group danced in a rotating circle and called out different dances such as the hands-behind-your-back-arrested dance, the hands-on-your-stomach-leaning-backwards-I-ate-too-much-beans dance, and the always classic hands-on-your-stomach-leaning-forward-throwing-up-because-I-ate too-much-beans dance. It was a lot of fun but the elders outlasted the youth of the party hands down. The adults of the party danced until 2 am as their 20 something year old children retreated to their bedrooms or sat on the couch in embarrassment of their parents’ enjoyment. The night ended when Joice’s Dad opened an expired bottle of red wine that looked like the Portuguese had brought with them on their first journey to Brazil.
The night was a lot of fun and certainly my most sober new years in recollection since I’ve had the ability to grow facial hair. Joice’s family is really cool and even though I didn’t see the big party downtown with the concert, fireworks and African influenced rituals to honored deities it was a great experience. You might even say we had our own fireworks display…literally people were lighting fireworks off with little concern for regulations or buildings directly outside of our window.
Feliz Ano Novo-Happy New Year.

Eye of the Ox

We returned to Salvador today and made plans to go a famous restaurant in Bahia called Boca de Galinha or Mouth of the Chicken. We drove the car while the elders took the bus. But don’t blame me they wanted to take the bus. We drove to the Cidade Baixa Lower City district of Salvador. If anyone is interested there is a steamy nearly soft-core porno film with the same name.
We paid R$1.00 to take the ferry across the bay to the restaurant. I would have taken pictures of the beautiful scenery if Joice had not warned me about the street kid Ne’er-do-wells who were aboard our ship.
We walked up a steep hill and eventually found our restaurant. It had a stunning view overlooking the entire city from across the bay. It was a decent restaurant complete with plastic chairs and tables that is commonplace in Brazil. They didn’t have room for our party of 8 so we waited across the street for our table. A waiter form the restaurant came and we ordered some beer and soda as we sat in the shade. We were sipping our drinks when The waiter returned and told us the bad news that they had run out of shrimp and all fish except for one called Olho de Boi or Eye of the Ox. This sent a shudder and complaints throughout our party. We took a vote as whether to stay or go. We were indecisive and probably would have sat in the shade complaining all afternoon if Joice had not take the initiative and paid for our tab.
We ran and caught the next ferry going back to Salvador. I don’t think I’ve felt whiter than when I got on this boat. It was a packed boat and we had to sit on the very tip.
We got back to Salvador and everyone was delirious from hunger. We settled on a churassacaria/pizza restaurant. The ambiance reminded me of an old gymnasium complete with the florescent lights that gave off a yellowing hue to the skin. The lunch was mediocre at best. I think I’ve finally found a family that is more difficult to eat with than my own.
After lunch we went next door to a famous ice cream shop that serves standard and exotic flavors of ice cream made from Amazon fruits. Most of them tasted like some form of plum iced cream concoction.
Later that evening Joice, Taynah and I went to buy a fan, as my room is a hot prison cell that provides little relief from the heat. The fan was $78 reais ($40 American) but well worth the price. We got to the cash register and realized we had gotten the wrong fan. They called for a price check. In Brazilian mega stores a price check is done through a roller skate donned worker who skates around the store typically wearing a helmet and kneepads. He found the correct price and we were off. Joice suggested that we try the fan out before taking it home. We asked if we could plug it in the store but they wouldn’t allow this after purchase. Joice says there is no such thing as a refund in Brazil.
We got some acarajé, a typical Baiana food outside of the store from some Baiana women dressed in traditional costumes of bright colored dresses of green, blue and white. The dresses had intricate patterns that looked like they could have been from the west coast of Africa, or the western edge of Langley Park’s African community’s closet. The acarajé was delicious and filling. The outside is a crispy fried white bean paste that is fried in palm oil turning it into a golden brown patty. The patty is sliced open filled with shrimp, a sand colored paste and spicy pepper. The dende palm oil is strong in flavor and is hard to avoid getting on your hands and face. The inside of the patty is warm with the consistency of textured cornbread.
Joice and I got a drink at the bar across the street. Talked for a while then came back and watched some of the pirated DVD I bought the other day. I was going to stay in a cheap motel that Joice’s mother had found close by, but the hotel was grungy and I felt I wouldn’t have made it through the night. The prices for rooms were $15 for a room, $25 for a room with a fan, and $35 for a room with a fan with a TV. What a deal!