The Head and the Heart: Where Lies Your Allegiance?

I am trying to think of a way to wrap up my Fulbright-in-Brazil experience, and yet...where to start? If there is something that I have learned over the past year, it is the fine difference between expectations and hope. Entertain me for a bit as I play with the idea.

Expectations come from our head. Hope comes from our heart.

Expectations are fixed images of how things should turn out. They can be as concrete as a responsible 5-year plan. They can be dreamy, colorful, lofty images with the man and the house and the job all intricately designed already. You find yourself expecting the presentation to go perfectly smooth and the transition from one job to the next to give you just the right amount of vacation time in between. And yet these expectations can be, and are often, slaughtered in about half a second in any given moment. It is so easy to get lost in our minds with how we imagine a situation to turn out. I do it all too often. And all too often my expectations fall short.

Hope, a beautiful virtue, should not be confused with expectations. Although there can be an image or idea of how you'd like a situation to turn out, hope lies in the heart. Hope lies most freely in an open heart, where ideas, feelings, logics, and outcomes are malleable and come and go freely. Hope is open to change but stays consistent in the action of patience, in the action of a longing gaze forward for what is to come. Hope does not expect anything to happen but imagines the best.

Semana Santa in São João Del Rei, MG

The 10pm candlelit Mass in Berkeley was a very prayerful hour for me in the midst of the college craziness. I remember a very practical priest saying to us: "Patience is the action of hope. We are called to be hopeful people." That line has stayed with me to this day. And yet I don't think I fully understood it until I leaned on the virtue of hope these past nine months in Brazil. I gave myself the pep-talk of "no expectations" the months before leaving. During the nine months I had plenty of things come and go: opportunities, friendships, relationships, my family, ideas, future goals, conversations, trips, nights out, nights in, presentations, classes, stormy weather and -my personal favorite- the wifi in my apartment. Rather than using patience to keep hopeful, I learned that hope actually inspires patience. Patience results from the having of hope. Us hopeful beings thus act patiently.

As should be expected, people and situations are bound to fall short from time to time. In the failure, we can also find unexpected growth and healing. But that healing comes when we can empty our head, and open our hearts. If we can do that, we can change our expectations into hope and our forceful efforts seem to become more graceful. Our ambition morphs into a peaceful dance. Our dreams and aspirations become less significant as we patiently hope for whatever is greater to come, for whatever God may will.

Maybe this is vague for a wrap-up blog post for the last nine months. But I hope it is vague enough that you can apply the concept to your own life and see whether you are getting lost in a mind of expectations or relying on your open and hopeful heart. Either one is sure to bring growth in one way or another, but from my experience one way can be more disappointing than the other. Such is life!

Here are a few of my favorite photos from the trip:

Peat & Repeat

Peat and Repeat were in a boat. Pete fell out. Who was left? Repeat. Pete and Repeat were in a boat. Pete fell out. Who was left? Repeat. Peat and Repeat were in a boat…A silly children's joke that was repeated to me enough times that to this day I remember it.

There's something to be said about repetition. Some people seem to have an aversion to it, thinking, "oh please, not the same restaurant, or "not this movie again", or "I've heard this song on the radio 10 times...today!" But I think this repetition has more value than it is given. We need it to fully understand a concept. For example, my good old grandpa repeats some stories to me, and I would't have it any other way. For when the day comes and he leaves this world, I won't be able to forget the first lines of Momento Mori, Remember Death. Or the story of how he met his bride. Or where to get the best bread in town- Amy's deli, off of Washington Street in Pico Riviera.

My strategy for learning Portuguese in Brazil was repetition. To remember a new word, a new name. It didn't stick until I've repeated it about 1,000 times. The Brazilians I learned from also found it kind of funny or weird, depending on the individual, when I would always repeat the last part of what they had just previously said. I was doing it subconsciously, until a good friend pointed it out to me. It seemed as if I was clinging on to every word she was saying. Whoever disliked a good listener?

Conversely, this repetition can create a monster as we also find ourselves repeating the same mistakes over and over. For example, in learning Portuguese, up until the day I left Brazil I made the same grammatical mistake that would have translated to sounding like a little kid saying, "he is more big than you" or "she is more small than he is"...ugly right? These repetitive cycles of mistakes can become ugly habits, as was the case with the above example.

Some say practice makes perfect. I've also heard the modified phrase: perfect practice makes perfect. But at the end of the day, we are human. Perfection never made anyone chuckle. Little kids' speech always does. Enough said. 

A Change of Heart

When I graduated from grade school, I cried like a baby. I couldn't imagine a world without the same best people in my life. Those best friends I had made, all the good times, all I had learned- all of that was going to change dramatically. That was my first moment of accepting change. I didn't do a great job at it, crying as I walked down the aisle.

Grade school friends still meeting up for the
Sacrament of Confirmation, 2006 

But since then, I've become quite good at it. Change doesn't bring the tears out of me. It makes me kind of quiet and giddy at the same time- hopeful for the future but not sure what to expect. It's an anxiety indeed. Oh, but change. It is now accepted as everyday life. Now I've come back to California for my friend's wedding. It's my friend from my childhood, the friend I was crying over when I was walking down the aisle ten years ago. When would we see each other again? Won't we be so distant going to different schools? Now, I am a part of her wedding and it turns out change isn't as permanent as we may think. It's just a blink of an eye and we're back to where we started- crying like a baby. But this time, my friend will be walking down the aisle gleaming at her husband-to-be. So excited to be present physically and emotionally for my beautiful friend Kristen!

Viçosan Street Dogs, Capivaras & Cigarras

Viçosa is not the first image that comes to mind when you think of Brazil, but it is a captivating city. It doesn't have a beach, coconut trees, or music on street corners. But it does have a beautiful forest on campus, a new tree blooming every week, and a drum circle that announces the end of the day around 6pm and that mysteriously echoes through the city walls. It's a captivating city.

Like most college campuses, UFV (Universidade Federal de Viçosa) has its quirks. There are two main cafeterias on campus: RU or MU. Every student has their preference. Are you an RU student or MU student? You can break it down even more: What side of RU do you eat on? One side apparently has more hippies and the other has more cowboys. Quirky.

UFV has its quintessentials as well. Ever been to a mud party? It's exactly as it sounds: a bunch of college kids sloshing around in mud and listening to some bangin' music. A quintessential party that only happens in Viçosa.

Viçosa also has an awesomely diverse community, down to the animals and bugs that inhabit the city. The amount of street dogs is incredible. These dogs rule the Viçosan world and have all the freedoms we humans want. We rush to class as they sleep basking in the sun. They enter whatever class they want. They enter and leave church at their leisure. They stay up late and walk us home from parties. They are fed by the sympathetic veterinary students or those that miss their dogs in their hometowns. These Viçosan street dogs are living the dream.

The capivaras contribute additional diversity to the Viçosan community. As pictured you can see these animals have the hair of a donkey, the snout of a hog, the shape of a guinea pig, and the mystical element of a...unicorn? They dip in and out of the lake on campus and live a tranquil river life, taking the advice of CCR in "Proud Mary". The first time I saw these creatures, I couldn't help but laugh out loud in awe.

The most recent biodiversity I discovered here in Viçosa is the cigarra bug. As the summer heat arrived, so did this strange hum at twilight throughout the city. I asked someone about it, and he said it's the cigarra bugs singing. They sing until they explode! This myth was recently debunked, as a student told me the truth. But I will continue with the mythical story because I can't think of a better way to die. Unfortunately with the arrival of the summer heat comes the buzzing mosquitos that can drive any strong-willed mind crazy while trying to get some beauty sleep, myself included.

In conclusion, I have about three weeks left here in Viçosa and I am just now writing about this city I've learned to love. I will leave soon, but the captivity of the city will not. I am sure to return.

One Tall Glass of Grace, Please

Walking the streets of Viçosa, I trip at least three times a day. It's actually become a game with my friend. It is a subtle exchange: "So, what number was that?" ..."Oh, just the first one of the day!" or "Yikes, you don't want to know," or even, "Hey, that one doesn't count." Mostly it's because I'm so intently listening to my friends while walking, language barriers abound. I just can't seem to walk and look sideways at them. Hey, a girl's gotta prioritize when she can't do two things at once! So much for feminine grace.

Besides the more visible feminine grace we may have seen on the city streets or in the movies, I discovered different kind of grace. One that is patient and accepting, that moves much slower than the pace I would like. If only it was as simple as going up to a bar and ordering a tall glass of grace. No, but this grace takes more work and care. A grace that weathers all storms. A grace that continues to grow through hardships and thrives with a little bit of sunshine. If metamorphosed, this grace would be a tree. Have you ever stopped to consider how graceful they are? Joyce Kilmer has, as she admiringly describes God's graceful creation in the poem to the right.

The same friend who teases me for tripping also told me a beautiful tree metaphor when I was expressing my worries for the future. Just as a tree has one strong trunk, or one main direction, we also grow as such with one main focus. With that strong trunk, that one focus- whether is it agronomy, languages, or medicine- we can branch off to other things in which we may be interested. Cooking? Dance? Rock climbing? These are other branches we can grow and nurture once we have that strong trunk. I liked this metaphor because it assured me that I don't need to feel limited to one thing in life, as I am truly a woman of endless possibilities.

Tree in the "Central Park" of São Paulo. Now those are some branches!

I think this metaphor ties into how someone once anecdotally described grace to me as the following: One branch broke and I miraculously made it to the next. In our lives, many branches break. Many opportunities fall out, and yet at the moment when we think we will fall, we find another branch to cling to. Going from one thing to the next, the only way this could happen is with the grace of God.

Why all this talk about grace? In my seven months here in Brazil, I am gaining a type of grace in the process. I have learned to accept the pace of life that is not aligned with my normal speed of efficiency and productivity. I came in with lots of ideas and motivation. I've slowed down a lot since, as I haven't seen things materialize. Accepting that my program is new for the university, I've been able to adjust my priorities and pace into something more patient and experimental. I've learned to accept that things don't happen as quickly as I may hope. I've become willing to accept that things may not even happen at all.

Tree pose on top of Pico do Bonê, MG

I could force things to happen, but I don't think the experience would be as fruitful.
I have found there is no point in forcing things here in Brazil. Instead, we go with the pace and flow of the world, seeing what plays out or what branch to jump to. This is strictly speculation, but perhaps they are more productive in the end. Knowing well who they are working with, perhaps they have more concrete results and more sane people. This is where my lesson in grace comes in. Accepting as a gift whatever comes or does not come, I can more gracefully attend to what actions I am called to do and to what is right in front of me. There is no use being stuck thinking the grass is greener on the other side.

They say good things happen to those who wait, right? As it turns out, seven months in and I am finally seeing a few projects materialize. With a couple conferences on the horizon, a storytelling workshop at an after school program, and a Q&A video project featuring both Brazilians and Americans, I am in full swing until November! I'll take that tall glass of grace now, please... I know, I know- it's not that easy.

What Do You Get When Opposites Attract? Of course, PB&J

Romeo e Julieta: A Deadly Combo

But how about in Brazil? Something the Brazilians call Romeo e Julieta, which is the perfect combination of cheese and guava paste.

One great thing about having my siblings visit was hearing their perspective just after a couple weeks. They confirmed a few observations I had myself in the past months, relieving the doubt that I could be crazy. For example, my sister loved Viçosa and found it to be a great tight knit community. Not every university student would say the same, as I usually hear groans of not having anything to do in Viçosa. My brothers got sick of the salgados, the salty snacks, at every bus stop. We siblings indisputably come from the same tree.

My brothers getting their brew on.

Kenny, my older brother, expressed something that I had been trying to process for the past months. Brazilians receive so much information about our American culture, so much so that it is a distorted view. While visiting the Bohemia brewery in Petropolis, Kenny perceived a detail of the story of hops that he said had been misinterpreted by the tour guide. I am not going to remember exactly what it was, as I am not the bartender in the family. The point is that varying views and interpretations are bound to happen, as information crosses overseas, even into the brewery world.

I have seen this in the classroom environment too, as Brazilians know so many TV series that I have never seen, and sometimes never heard of. Some students have asked, "are parties in the U.S. really like those in American Pie"? Oh goodness...Then again, some American college parties may be like that? A little boy asked me the other day, "Is it true that you can get arrested if your boxers are showing?" Undoubtably he heard the news from some city that tried to enforce that rule. I doubt myself here thinking, "Maybe I am the one out of the loop here, maybe he is right?" That is the feeling I get sometimes- I am the American with less information about my country than a ten-years-old Brazilian. These examples clearly show the difference between what the news and media delivers to the Brazilian people and the realities of life in the United States.

As much as the Brazilians know about the U.S., Americans have a limited view of what is happening in Brazil. Before coming to Brazil, I got questions and comments from friends and family like "Do you know how to samba?" and "Ohhh Carnaval!" My personal favorite dialogue was, "Do you speak Spanish?"..."Yes but that won't help in Brazil." Beautiful people. Soccer. The Amazon. Favelas. These are the things we know about Brazil. Being from the States, we don't automatically hear Sertanejo music or Brazilian funk on the radio stations. Those interested in hearing have to seek out Zezé Di Camargo e Luciano or Valesca Popozuda. We don't hear about Brazilian politics because our news channels are full of debates between Republicans and Democrats. We get snidbits of their culture. American culture infuses Brazil, from music to movies to university lifestyle, to science articles, to names of stores, to hamburgers, to English class starting in grade school.

Maureen and Sabrina, two kindred souls.

That being said, my sister Maureen noted that it is an easy culture to adapt to for Americans. There are a lot of parallels between our cultures and the Brazilian people are so warm and welcoming, there's no wonder why I've been able to adapt quite fluidly. As for being an American here, there's not much else to do but hear the Brazilians' questions and try to give a glimpse of the reality of American life- beyond Hollywood glamour, beyond Washington drama, and beyond New York finances. My mission (oh, boy, here comes my power trip) is to clear up the misconceptions Brazilians have of Americans, one conversation at a time. I also will have the same mission in November- to bring back some Brazilian culture and expand the view my community at home has of Brazil. Mainly, that involves making tapioca and playing some Skank for everyone.

To start, listen here:

Perks & Quirks of Being Gringos

The title of this post is meant to cue your memory of a semi-recent popular book-then-made-into-movie called The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I liked the Urban Dictionary's definition of a wallflower: "a type of loner. seemingly shy folks who no one really knows. often some of the most interesting people if one actually talks to them. cute." The image that comes to my mind is a cabbage patch kid's cute little head growing out of a wall and a calm grin on his face surrounded by green shrubbery, barely visible. 

The four gringos, on top of Rio de Janeiro

That is not what my brothers, sister and I were when they came to visit last month. We were quite the opposite of wallflowers, as much as we tried to not be obnoxious in public. One ginger in Brazil is rare enough. Imagine four gingers waltzing around Rio de Janeiro. During the World Cup, people just assumed we were German. Fortunately, I was clearly sporting a Brazilian jersey on the day of the Unspeakable Match. Attitudes changed quickly as Argentina and Germany faced each other in the final... Brazilians don't really like their Argentinian neighbors.

Overall, the perks of us siblings being exotic here in Brazil made for some laughs, good conversations, and pleasant treatment from the Brazilians who are ever so eager to make you feel at home in their country.

Back in Viçosa, where I have come to call home here in Brazil, I have found some more perks. Public speaking is easier because I am either speaking in my native tongue to a group of non-natives, or I am speaking in Portuguese and expectations are way lower for me. When I speak well, I am rewarded by a compliment, or a subtle look of surprise. Another perk- ignorance is bliss as they say. At the beginning of my time here, I didn't know what was going on so looking back I realize I got away with some cultural faux pas such as: being barefoot around the house; not offering my food to everyone in sight as means of being polite; taking people's food when they politely yet half-heartedly offer it. The greatest perk is the direct cultural exchange I have with every conversation, as every interaction presents a new opportunity for me to learn, and to share something about my culture. Brazilians love to talk and they make great teachers, too.

Being American in Viçosa, Brazil for the Fourth.

Plenty of quirks exist as well: Walking in the streets and speaking English gets strange looks, but even more uncomfortable is when I am speaking Portuguese and I get a strange look. Being asked where I am from after just saying hello. Being asked where I am from even before saying hello. Using the wrong word, in some cases a phallic slang word, and getting a good laugh out of a Brazilian friend. People asking me for directions: as I begin to speak, they get a slightly fading-away look as they become less confident if they should believe this girl or not. Those times when I don't feel like asking someone to repeat when I didn't understand, only to find they are waiting for an answer from me. Just to name a few...

Sure there are perks and quirks of being a gringa but at times I wish to be a wallflower, as sometimes the attention that comes with being exotic is suffocating. Can I just get my beer in peace? I'll have to wait to get back to the Palmer house for that. For now I'll keep afloat by embracing the perks because after this experience in Brazil and all I'm learning about myself, life as I know it will never be the same. Tchau!

To Imitate: A Parakeet Gets Her Wings

World Cup shenanigans

(Yes, parakeets talk and imitate as well as parrots.)

I am a great imitator. It's one of my most useful qualities. I put this quality to use here in Brazil as I imitate my surroundings. When I first arrived in Brazil, I needed to find a way to survive linguistically speaking. Like a parakeet, I found myself repeating the last part of what someone said to me. It helped me to have something to say, to give some kind of response, and also as a way to learn by repetition. Chirping away without any inhibitions, I imitated how these Brazilians communicated. Greeting every person in a group is a must, whether you just met them briefly or kind of recognize their face. Turns out, this should be common sense as it shows a level of respect for every individual regardless of class, race, or hairstyle. It's fun for me to adapt to the Brazilian way by imitating their lifestyle. Eating rice and beans every day is normal and delicious for me now. I learned how to cook rice and beans as well. I'm convinced that's why their skin glows.

For me, the first step of adapting was to imitate. But now that this parakeet can communicate here in Brazil, how does she stay true to her own rhythm? I believe it's easy to get lost in a crowd, especially when that crowd is foreign. I have found taking a step back and carving out some personal time away from the rest of the world can do wonders. Like that, I can balance trying out the Brazilian way and yet staying true to the Maggie I know. Indeed, it makes for a great flight.

Excuses, excuses: Brazilian versus American

I haven't written for way too long! I have an excuse. But do you want to Brazilian or the American version? You decide.

Brazilian: preguiça. Brazilians use the excuse of laziness for everything, and what is so unique is that it is a completely accepted excuse. "Are you coming to the party?" "No, I'm feeling lazy." "Why didn't you go to class?" "Laziness." "Why haven't you graduated yet?" "Preguiça." It is almost something to laugh at because it seems ridiculous, but it is a universally-accepted excuse, which I've become accustomed to (and enjoy) using.

American: too busy. Americans are not ones to admit to being lazy, and instead they substitute it with the exact opposite. "Why haven't we hung out for so long?" "Oh I've been so busy lately!" "Why are you turning your paper in late?" "So busy." "How come you missed the meeting?" "No time, I got busy!" It is a common excuse which I believe gives a false impression of how much we are actually doing, but it has become more acceptable than telling the truth that I didn't want to go to that party.

The second most common Brazilian excuse would be "I'm broke." That won't work here, as this is a free blog. So whichever excuse you prefer, I sincerely apologize for not writing for such a long time :)

Finding Your Inner Hippie

Mario Savio, Free Speech Movement 1964

I remember more than a year ago, I was back in the job search at home and trying to find where I would fit in the workforce. As it appears, my strategy is to reach out to everyone and anyone in my circles to gather advice, connections, information. Reaching out to my old youth minister and friend, Armando, I recall the topic of public speaking came up at the end of the conversation. I asked him how he became such a good public speaker and if he got nervous. His basic answer was that the only way to get better, is to practice. And isn't that true with most things?

At the time, I dismissed his comment thinking, "Well maybe that worked for him, but if I am going to speak in public I need to take a class, know exactly the best structure for making a speech, and be completely prepared before I even commit to actually making a speech." I halfheartedly looked into taking a speech class at a junior college while simultaneously working three other odd jobs. By the time I had secured a solid job in school administration, the thought of improving my public speaking skills was out of sight, out of mind.

Flower Power

What does all this have to do with what I have been up to in Brazil these past two months? I had a vague idea about what I would be doing in Brazil for nine months before I embarked on this journey. I had a more clear idea after my orientation in Brazil, that as an English Teaching Assistant (ETA) I would not be teaching. Rather my job is to assist with the English Without Borders program- whether that is offering help in the classroom, holding language workshops, or sharing a bit about my culture to the students on the UFV campus here in Brazil.

What I didn't know was how much public speaking it would involve. Like I said- out of sight, out of mind.

Now, what does all this have to do with finding your inner hippie? Not until yesterday after I completed giving a lecture on the 1960's hippie culture in the United States did I think about that conversation I had more than a year ago with my friend. I thought, wow I have been public speaking for the past two months here in a variety of settings and in a couple different languages. As anxious I was for the talk to go well, I found the two hours went fast and I actually enjoyed it. From the looks of it, I believe my audience did as well. And just like that, I realized I had conquered a fear here in Brazil. Public speaking.

Summer of Love, 1967

A quote from Richard Rohr comes to mind:  "It is probably the most courageous thing you will ever do to accept that you are just yourself." I agree with my friend Armando that practicing improves public speaking. I would add to his advice that courage to be yourself and show your unique personality in front of a group of people is a large part of your success as well. The clutch here is unique, not perfect. Once I got beyond the fact that I wasn't going to give a "perfect" presentation, I was able to relax and be comfortable being me.

And just like that, I found my inner hippie. Not the hippie mindset of drugs, sex, and rock & roll, which was perhaps taken to an extreme as a means to make a statement against mainstream society. Rather, I found the inner hippie that was so in love with the world and so comfortable in her own skin she could dance freely in a crowd, stand up for flower power (as shown in the picture above) or speak in public. Who knows where this inner hippie will go next!

The title of my talk was a mouthful- Finding Your Inner Hippie: A Glance at the Counter Culture Movement of the 1960's in the United States. But if you wish to take a look at my presentation, click here. 

Too Young to Be a Stick in the Mud

Have you ever learned a new word and then start hearing it all day, or all week? It seems to come up in conversation, you see it in a news article, or you suddenly find that word is the exact one you need to make a point. Finally, you've found it! This word has altered your life forever as you now have a more precise way to express yourself or your opinion or the color of her dress. You will never be the same. Dramatic? Only a little. This happens to me all the time in Portuguese. For example, the word of this week is lomo, mud. I now can express how I got lomo on my shoes, how I feel about going to a lomo party, and what it means to be a stick in the lomo.

It doesn't just have to be a word, but perhaps it is a song. I watched a movie on the Brazilian 80's singer and songwriter Renato Russo called Somos Tão Jovem. I liked a particular song called "Tempo Perdido" ("Lost Time"). I didn't think much more about it after the movie ended, but I quickly found out it is a very famous song. Then I watched O Homen Do Futuro (Man of the Future) at a friend's house and the same song, "Tempo Perdido", is performed in a few scenes of the movie as well. Now my interest is growing, as I thought O Homen Do Futuro was one of the best films I have seen in awhile. Go search for it, take time to watch it, and enjoy that pleasant feeling you get after watching a great movie.  Next, I'm in a meeting with some Brazilian English teachers and my advisor, Ana. As one of the teachers is expressing the frustrations of working in a public school, Ana offers some words of encouragement and references Renato Russo's beautiful lyrics. She proceeds to break out in song, as the rest of us enjoy the poignancy of the lyrics. Then, the public school teacher joins in, followed by the other Brazilian teachers in the room. Everyone knew the lyrics and sang along for a few stanzas. I will never forget that spontaneous moment. I wish I could have recorded it and captured the moment, but my own memory will have to suffice. After that meeting I knew I had to look up this song and read the lyrics and replay, replay, replay until my heart's desire.



In "Tempo Perdido", the band Legiao Urbana repeats two lines that stick out to me: temos nosso propio tempo- we have our own time- and somos tão jovem- we are so young. Every time I learn something new I understand that I am so young and have so much more to learn. The same goes for learning another language or culture. As soon as I found out I would be going to Brazil, it seemed like I couldn't escape learning more about the country even if I tried. My sister started working with a Brazilian. I found a Brazilian açai shop in Orange. My dad started sending my articles about Brazil. Now that I am here in Brazil, I see I will never be the same person as I have a humbling learning experience everyday. Every lesson alters and transforms me bit by bit. There is so much to learn in this life, so how are you going to use your own time? I personally prefer not to be a stick in the mud.

Love Sick: A Modern Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, a ginger lassie visited a town in Minas Gerais, Brazil called Viçosa, that is, Youthful. She had a great time when she arrived. She met plenty of new people, tried speaking Portuguese, and enjoyed the perks of being in a foreign country. Those include freedom to travel- as every place you go is new, even the bank; experimenting new things galore- as everyone asks, "Have you tried this yet? Have you heard of this?"; and special treatment from natives- as they want so much that you enjoy your stay in their home.

One day a few weeks into her stay, the ginger lassie got sick very quickly. She had returned from a trip to Rio de Janeiro celebrating Carnaval and had a terrible sore throat, headache, and a tough time breathing. She proceeded to try and nurse herself back to health with tea and liquids and sleep. It didn't seem to cut it. Then, an angel came out of the blue! Aparecida! But her nick name is Cida. 

Cida, my good friend and advisor, knew exactly what I needed- some TLC. She took me to the hospital, got me lunch, got me the medicine I needed, brought me to her house to help mark the dosage of each medicine, let me take a two hour nap, made me soup, had me spend the night just so she could watch over me. We watched episodes of The Big Bang Theory with Portuguese subtitles and I got a kick out of that. Then in the morning, I woke up to fresh coffee, delicious fruit, and a yummy breakfast spread.  She then took me to the grocery store to make sure I had food in my apartment. What a little gift from heaven. I will be forever grateful for her kindness and hope I can pay it forward. These Brazilians are too much!

My kind nurse-angel

Enough medicine for a lifetime

Carnaval In My Own Skin

I've been told several times, I will never look like a Brazilian. Now, if someone is trying to be nice, s/he may say, "You could pass for someone from the south where there is a more European look." That being said, as soon as I open my mouth it's a dead give away. I'm okay with that. I completely understand. In fact, I embrace it when I get the occasional looks. I am at a point in my life where I have finally become completely comfortable in my own skin- whatever color it is, and however many freckles I have. No, I haven't counted. It's a good feeling after plenty of years trying to imitate others, as we do in our teenage years, and then plenty of years trying to be unique, as we do in those crazy college years.

Now, I have lived for one month in Brazil feeling free in my own skin, scars and stripes includes. And then, I go to Carnaval in Rio where costumes abound and the normal standards are lifted for the entire week. That means, plenty of party and no work. I heard many people joke, the idea is not necessary to enjoy Carnaval, but to survive. The alternative life that we enter for the crazy week has been a topic of discussion for centuries. Bakhtin gives some  commentary on these two lives of a person in the Middle Ages:

It could be said (with certain reservations, of course) that a person of the Middle Ages lived, as it were, two lives: one that was the official life, monolithically serious and gloomy, subjugated to a strict hierarchical order, full of terror, dogmatism, reverence and piety; the other was the life of the carnival square, free and unrestricted, full of ambivalent laughter, blasphemy, the profanation of everything sacred, full of debasing and obscenities, familiar contact with everyone and everything. Both these lives were legitimate, but separated by strict temporal boundaries. (Problems of Dostoyevsky’s Poetics, p.129-30)

Costumes abound! 

That temporal boundary lies in a week of Carnaval activities, which reigns true in many parts of the world to this day. We seek that escape from the official world and all its boundaries, restrictions, rules and regulations. We seek escape to the point of putting on another skin in the form of costume, iniebriating ourselves and acting out of character. Fun, to say the least. As much or as little as you want, you can alter yourself during this temporal boundary. Put on a costume and act as a buffoon. Have a drink, kiss someone! I, myself, put on a hat and called it a day. And then, I enjoyed the show- indeed one of the best spectator sports around.

Carnaval in my own skin is not the ideal Carnaval for everyone. But I survived.

Shootin' the Shit

I loved that line in Catching in the Rye as Salinger's Holden described his long and stupid chats with his sister, those chats that really meant the world to him. "Just shootin' the shit." That's pretty much what I've been up to. I've yet to start working, as the UFV semester doesn't begin until mid-March. So, for now, I shoot the shit: at lunch, dinner, after dinner, in a car ride, walking around Viçosa, at a bar, in my kitchen. With who? Whoever will listen and is patient enough to handle my weak Portuguese. That includes, my apartment mates, my advisers, English teachers, a Portuguese teacher, my fellow ETA, some American study abroad students, and those social butterflies at bars as well. Disclaimer: Most of these groups know a good amount of English, or Spanish. To say I only speak Portuguese with them would be like saying it's not that hot in Viçosa, or I don't like to dance that much, or rats don't scare me that much. Catch my drift?

The conversations drift from Portuguese phrases, English idioms, foods typical of the Mineiros, names of trees and flowers (obviously per my prompting), the beauty that is Iguazu Falls, past relationships, favorite past times, Brazilian time, and everything in between. I've begun to form friendships, companionships, relationships that I believe will allow me to do what I've come here to do: share my culture to those I encounter and visa versa. As simple as that, my work has begun after all. Indeed, there is more value to shootin' the shit than we know.  Here's a few examples of ways you can enjoy shootin', in case you need some ideas:

Go on a road trip to the countryside

Find a waterfall

Spend time with new friends

Say yes to dinner invitations

Walk around town and find cool hats

Eat, always eat

Orienting Beyond Blueprints

Fresh out of orientation in Brasilia, I have arrived in Viçosa with a blueprint of how Brazilians work and a list of some general cultural norms to be aware of. The orientation prepared us for the good, the bad, and the ugly, and covered the large country of Brazil in the most general terms. Compare it to the continental United States and you will get the picture. Think East Coast, West Coast, Midwest, South and you will understand the diversity that exists within Brazil in a similar way.

Brazil versus the United States in size

That being said, I was having a hard time digesting the generalizations presented, as they came off as a review of the stereotypes we as English Teaching Assistants (ETAs) may have had prior to our flight overseas. How can I consciously fight a given stereotype so I may instead learn what someone really is like? How can I differentiate every new interaction? Of course not all Brazilians can be put in a box. No person can be put in a box, we would go crazy. But as it turns out, our natural tendency as humans is to generalize so as to begin to understand a people, a person.

Not 24 hours into my stay in Viçosa, I was already handed back a generalization about the people of the United States. My host professor and adviser, Ana, had taken Krystal (my fellow ETA) and I to lanchonete. (Lanchonete can best be translated as snack time in the mid-afternoon.) As we planned the next step of the day, I suggested Krystal and I could just walk back ourselves from a potential apartment so that Ana could make her next appointment.

Our warm welcome to Viçosa

After a day of so kindly taking care of us every step of the way, Ana's reaction startled me at first. "Oh yes, yes, yes, that would be good, and then you can have your independent adventure for the day. Americans love that." First thought in my head is astonishment. How does she know that about me, about us! Then, I laughed realizing how true of a statement it was, oh so brilliantly true! This is coming from someone who has spent plenty of time in the States and has a good friend who visits Brazil frequently. In that moment, I understood the blueprint that the Fulbright orientation gave us ETAs. Krystal and I enjoyed our independent walk back, winding the streets after some very detailed instructions from Ana. She knew the walk was something we needed from what she knows of our culture in the United States. She knew that before I knew it myself, and I completely appreciate her acknowledgement of that innate Americanism* that I apparently carry within me.


As we continue to learn about one another, we learn more about ourselves. Turns out, this is a very selfish trip as I become more Maggie everyday. Hopefully I can help someone else do the same in return. For now, I try to keep an open heart for each interaction so as to respectfully discover what that person has to offer. A feat of a lifetime if I can get that one down!

*Yes, Americanism is a new word invented by yours truly.

Arrivederci America

I've committed to keeping this blog up during my nine months in Brazil and I hope it serves as a means of communication to my family and friends around the world. After much anticipation, application, planning, discussion, and celebration here in California I am off to Brazil today! At first thought, leaving on Valentine's Day seemed to be an odd day to leave. But now that the day has come, Valentine's Day 2014, it could not be more perfect. The love and support I have received over the past month pre-trip has been tremendous and I go to the airport today with thousands of hands kindly pushing me in that direction. As challenging as it was to move home after college, it has been a great year and a half living at home in Brea; I've grown so much in this time that I hardly know that college girl. Now, I'm taking another step in the journey into a whole new beast- South America.

I go with no intention of making plans of what I will do when I return in November. I go with the intention to be completely present for first few months before I even begin to think about what comes after. I go with an open heart.

My last post back in November (yikes!) was all about my journey within. I believe that journey will continue on my way to Brazil and back. What does your next nine months look like? With an open heart, it could look like many things.