acclimation

Waking up in Sao Paulo this week has been a different feeling each day. Monday it was novelty and curiosity, Tuesday it was urgency since I woke up late (an all too familiar experience at home), Wednesday it was saudade, Thursday it was determination, and Friday it was content, as I lay listening to an American rendition on an old Brazilian song at 7:25 under the rare blue sky--the first, in fact, for the entire week. This morning, Saturday, I felt surprisingly vital.

My classes are now over and were worth what I paid for them. When I jumped into the intermediate class of 5 others I felt like I was mostly eavesdropping. It was: David, teacher, Paulistano, 26, Sega-loving Carnaval-hating comedian; Elene, 20-something Norwegian with a Barcelonian accent in her Portuguese; Rieko, Japanese model with dyed hair (blondish-orange) and a tatoo; Mename, Japanese scholar who always beat or tied with me on completing exercises; Andrei, 50-something Quebecois with a dry, consistent sense of humour; and Lucci, a New York-dwelling fashionista of 23 from El Salvador, proficient speaker of Portuguese, and incessant speaker of high volume. By the end of the week, I felt less like the eavesdropper of a conversation I couldn't follow than a valid person, contributor, grammar wizard with speed and precision albeit a relatively small vocabulary, and class runt.

Nilza prepares breakfast and dinner for me. She makes so much great food (including her own strawberry jelly...who does that?) that I skimp out on lunch so that I am not rudely full at dinner time, which happened on the first day, when she made rice, beans, and four other overflowing dishes. All things considered, that's a relatively great thing to complain about. She also gave me a stash of music to listen to, so I've been jamming to Gilberto Gil and MPB. I do miss hot (or even warm) showers, though.

My first impression of Sao Paulo was its immensity. As an outsider, I think it would be impossible to fathom the city, and I get the feeling that it's less a city for outsiders than it is for inhabitants. As the biggest city of South America, it is Brazil's commercial center. The bus system is beyond me--though, I've never dominated a bus system, or wanted to when subways are so easy (it's also the same fare for bus and subway in this city). One thing that confused me at first is in addition to the driver at the front of the bus, towards the middle of the bus another clerk sits operating an impenetrable turn-style. You pay there, and can only exit from the back. The seats in the front are mostly designated for pregnant women, senior citizens, and people with disabilities (all of whom ride for free), but if you're lucky you can delay payment for a few blocks by snagging one of the unreserved front seats as you gather your fare. I think of it as a built-in waiting area, and assume they instated the system to prevent people from bumming rides off the city.

I (used to) get lost all the time and would have to ask for directions. You can always ask clerks in stores, can sometimes ask passing businessmen, and should arguably not involve police. It is out of the question to share with anyone else the fact that you are foreign and lost. When I ask for directions, I understand and am understood, and the people I ask are always happy to see me speaking Portuguese and to help point me in the right direction. When I learn new words, tips, or information, in class or from Nilza or on the street, I write it down in a small black spiral notebook for safekeeping.

When I haven't been starving myself to keep up an appetite for Nilza's home cooking, my favourite thing to buy is pao de queijo (pronounced pow gee kay-joo [as in the j of Taj Mahal, or the g of massage]), which is like bread and cheese toasted (except it's good). I've also had a terrible churro, and a fair share of meat, for me at least. Apparently my enzymes are back, as I haven't had any discomfort (until now, I'm sure...).

Carnaval is right now actually, but it doesn't feel much different other than that it's a Saturday. Lunch bars, restaurants, gas stations, shops, and all the things you'd use on any normal day are still open, and the citizens aren't dancing on the streets in masks. At least, not in Sao Paulo. The natives I've spoken to all say they use the time off (offices close until Wednesday) to rest, so I will too.

It took me a while to realize that Sao Paulo is not so different from any other city. There's commerce, rich people, lovers in lanchonetes and on elevators and communicating across traffic with backpacks safely strapped, couples not in love, homeless people sleeping with blankets on the concrete, or sometimes worse, shirtless without blanket on the black street. One family, three children, have a corner of two streets under an awning, and they are still in 'bed' (but awake) when I go to class around 9. The oldest doesn't stay in bed, so you can see the nonchalant dirt on his feet. When he and his younger brother and sister (who I see smiling) last showered is up for debate, but he is not old enough to work yet. I see another man pulling cans out of the garbage, drinking whatever liquid remains, and saving it for the aluminum in a bag he carries on his side. When I pass by, for that one 20-second period I can smell his foulness. It rains frequently, and when it doesn't, the clouds stay as a persistent threat. It rained on Tuesday, and I arrived home (was lost that day) with socks and shoes soaked. The air is humid, so they weren't dry until Thursday night. Umbrella peddlers cash in, or attempt to. And sometimes when I get change, people open their 'cash registers' to reveal a few bills thrown into a drawer without organization. That's in the smaller stores, though - gas stations and malls full of electronic goods are loaded. It's a city and there is danger - but knowing where you can be and at what time of the day you can be there is the main thing. Most of this, I associate not with Sao Paulo but with metropolises in general.

At home, I can look out my window on the 11th floor and have a pretty good view of buildings. I see faded pastel facades of every color: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo even -- though no violet. The rest of the buildings are concrete, but not the smooth sleek silver you imagine in Manhattan. Any decent building will be gated with a 24-hour doorman, and I can't tell if that's a remnant of the Portuguese or a measure of safety, or both. Remarkable for me is that garbage cans here, or at least the ones I've seen, are tiny, like the size of a can you might hold sugar in. The amount of waste produced in this household (including kitchen and bathroom byproducts) is about equal to the garbage can in my room at home, alone, and that's only composed of papers and a small amount of food. Oh, and toilet paper here doesn't go in most of the toilets here, to prevent clogging the sewers. Outlets fit both Japanese/American and European appliances, I guess because electronics are imported from all these locations. Their CD and DVD players, TVs, and things of that nature are either totally or mostly labelled in English. The TV remote says 'Volume,' 'Mode,' 'Reset,' 'Channel'...yet the same platform says 'Ligar/Desligar,' Portuguese for 'Turn on/off.' Did the translator get lazy or something?

Last night was the first night of Carnaval, and the first night I went out with friends from school. I was invited to go to a bar with a 21-year-old German student and a 26-year-old French engineer. They had the perfect accents in English to match their respective stereotypes. The German had just spent 8 months studying in Colombia (aaahhh), and now wanted to get to know Brazil; the Frenchman has a Brazilian girlfriend living here and is trying to find employment. The four of us (including the girlfriend) had beer and appetizers (the German said 'finger food' and I almost died laughing) and talked about our respective countries, the world, our travels, the future, etc., and after we'd gone to the second bar (the Brazilian had a car) I remember being moderately drunk and having all 3 of them asking me questions about the US. They wanted to know if the high school portrayed in movies was real, if people really ordered 'Freedom Fries' and things of the like. It was good fun. It also felt good to be the only one at the table who could converse with all the others in their respective native languages, even though the primary language of use was mine. The German is staying another 2 weeks at the school, and he said he hopes he can speak Portuguese as well as I can by the time he's done. What a compliment. I didn't have any cash, and while the German did, the French guy and his girlfriend picked up both of our tabs since, as she said, it was her pleasure to meet us and it's her home and she had the worst time with money when she was travelling and living in Paris. They also dropped me off at Nilza's, which I didn't expect but surely appreciated. It wasn't even 11, but it was still a little too late for a gringo to be out on the streets.

So, all in all, for the first week, I have done what I sought out to do. There were days when I felt like I was a little crazy for being here, but at this point, I'm confident that I did the right thing. I have a little unforeseen down time now to relax, see Sao Paulo, and do my Argentina projects. This Tuesday night, Nilza is taking me to the bus station, and then I'm off on an overnight journey to the Atlantic Rainforest. My best to everyone.

also

I've been keeping track of steps I have taken each day. Observe:

Started mid Saturday in NJ 1/26, ended Sunday night in Brazil 1/27 - 20,339

Monday, 1/28: 10,944

Tuesday, 1/29: 17,395

Wednesday, 1/30: 14,049

Thursday, 1/31: 15,307

Friday, 2/1: 6776 (hahaha)