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