Desafinado: Crashing parties taking names finding trashcans

I leave blog posts that I’ve begun in a folder that remains unopened for at least a week, and by the time I revisit them I want to stuff the whole lot of it into a blender.

So I might as well publish these things before I critique them to death.

To begin: imagine your group of friends/companions/acquaintances is in flux – a good, productive flux. You end up at the house of new friend for the first time, requiring directions and maybe a Google maps confirmation. You stay in the car until you are sure the numbers on the house match what you wrote down. Inside you wonder: do I take my shoes off? Does the basement have white carpet I’m going to mess up, or should I leave them on because people will be outside… bug spray? Dang should have brought that. Water – oop the mom is in the kitchen – what’s this kid’s last name again? Hiii Mrs… Johnbergstein…

However after a couple weeks, you are no longer the newcomer. You direct new newbie to the bathroom, and even know which trap door hides the kitchen garbage can.

I have to admit that I struggled conceptually with this for about 15 minutes before realizing that I needed to switch the variables.

"Hello, Mrs. Johnbergstein, it’s good to see you again!" Or, now that you know how to get to the basement without ending up in the master bedroom, just walk on downstairs. Grab that water and/or bug spray. Skewer a mallow. Put the mallow on the gram. Scarf.

This is essentially the difference I feel in my new home. I walk straighter, instinctively protect my purse less (not carelessness, just less touristy), have more success at the grocery store and understand a bit more banter going on around me.

Yesterday on the street, a young lad painted as a Heineken bottle approached me and asked for some change. In this deal-changing moment, he saw past my blondeness and considered me worthy of Portuguese fluency/potential Brazilian status. At the grocery store, the woman behind me in line asked if I had a club card and offered her number for my purchases. The contrast of these experiences: if I so much as ask anyone to repeat themselves, they revert to crisis “no speak Portuguese” mode and attempt to communicate with their 100-word English vocabulary. “No, really, I speak, you just said that real fast, dude.” The bus system no longer wigs me out, which is a big deal considering that I have a registered handicapped internal sense of direction. In other news, today I ran around the lake and no longer felt like I was crashing someone else’s party.

Proceeding to text written a week ago:

Another thing that has made me feel at home is a constant and miraculous connection with helpers throughout my journey. My first Sunday here, my host “mom” attempted to explain and help me experience the bus system by taking me to her cousin’s house via bus. This was something unrequired of her, and incredibly significant to me – I feel most loved when someone takes my needs into consideration so that I feel secure and prepared for whatever task or challenge is ahead. She could very well have said “take bus 435” and would have done her part, but her desire that I know the ins and outs of the process was a blessing. In the end however, the bus we wanted never came and we had to taxi. ‘Twas the thought.

So Monday morning arrived, and I waited for my first experience on a public bus by myself (#suburbanproblems). My next task was to find an office on the 8^th floor of a building that I had never been to on a campus whose map I did not understand. As my bus pulls up, I got my fare out of my pocket and looked up only to see the face of the only other person I knew in the entire city of Rio de Janeiro. My fellow spider then guided me through my first bus ride and helped me navigate the jungle that is our Rio campus.

Some editing was needed.

Other encounters have blessed me just as much…

After arriving late I was put into a lower level language class, the professors of which sent me to a class I probably would not have reached through standard procedure.
Invited to lunch the first day where I discovered the $3 delicious Brazilian Sodexo meal I would have otherwise missed.
Made a lovely friend whose aptitude in city living was much higher than mine and who held my hand through many firsts.
Host brother of UR friend brought me to visit his church.
All the sweet ladies in stores who talk to me and make me feel welcome into this new place.

Rio Re-cap for the Rents:

Saw the Pope drive by Copacabana beach in the Pope-mobile and watched mass on a big-screen.
Finished my month-long language intensive, and passed ;)
Watched the sun set at Pão de Açucar, the famous “hills” connected by cable cars. The view was so absolutely absurd that at one point I was walking while looking over the city and straight up collided with a woman. I’ve been learning how to communicate, “I am so sorry”.
Went to the restaurant where "Girl from Ipanema" was written... for the 2nd time.
Cooked a real meal with a friend for some friends, and it actually turned out well.
Favela tour in Santa Marta favela, the first to be pacified in 2008. There is a kiosk near the exit that had THE MOST ridiculous grilled chicken I have ever eaten. The experience was a little odd however, as at times it felt like the distinction between our tour group and the people living life right next to us created a sort of poor-people zoo.
Tour of Centro district of Rio and visit to an outdoor samba event.
Bought some kick-butt shoes at the only reasonable price to be found in the city.
Much walking around the Ipanema and Copacabana neighborhoods and beaches.
Makin franz
Chillin out
Blaggin
Relaxing, all cool.

Some pictures/videos for your viewing pleasure:

Ascent to Pão de Açucar
Sunset at Pão de Açucar (Sugar Loaf Mountain)
(I attempted to link the videos directly, but Youtube will have to do.)