Morro de Sao Paulo

Uma ilha de paraiso!

This weekend I spent 4 days in Morro de Sao Paulo with a bunch of kids from my program. Morro is a island off the coast of Salvador and is absolutely beautiful. At times the white sands and palm trees made me feel like I was on the set of Pirates of the Carribean. Other times (more inland) it felt like rural northern Nicaragua due to the lush green tropical landscape, rolling hills, muddy streets, and small houses.

Morro is a small island designed for vacationers (mostly other Brazilians, Argentinians and Israelis--there was more hebrew writing there than I have seen outside of Israel). Since it has just turned spring here (low season), the island was very tranquilo and not bustling (I can imagine that in the summer it would feel very touristy). There are no cars and the streets are all sand. Everything is done on foot or via wheel barrows. Everywhere artisans sell their wares--beautiful jewelery, hand crafted mobiles, art, dresses, or homemade cakes.

The main attraction to Morro is the beaches which are exquisite. Unfortunately Thursday and Friday were rainy (so far all rain that has fallen in Brazil has only lasted for about an hour. However, this rainy drizzle lasted two days!). So we did a lot of exploring of the island or relaxing in hammocks under roofs. On Thursday night they had this great festa on the beach. They played music (everything from samba, forro, techno, hip hop, michael jackson, etc) and we all danced in the rain. On Saturday I took a boat tour that stopped at a bunch of different locations on the island. We saw dolphins playing in the water (the dolphins are super cute and only about 2-3 feet long). We also went to this amazing mud place. From afar it looked like a cliff of purple and yellow rock, but the rock was softer than clay and we lathered ourselves in the mud (which looked kinda like orange/strawberry sherbet or chocolate milkshake). It definitely brought out the little kid in you as you got to climb through mud, jump into it from higher up, lather it everywhere and throw it at each other. Then you would let it dry and rinse it off. It made your skin feel phenomenally soft.

I am finding it very difficult to put to words the feeling of the island (which ran on island time--meaning there were absolutely no clocks and you were NEVER in a rush...sometimes things went very slowly). Anyways I took a lot of GREAT pictures

These are the ruins from the fort. From here I looked out and could almost see the Black Pearl approaching...

This is me and my friend Daryn at the ruins. (When the sun finally came out on Sunday it was scorching hot).
Here is sunset on Saturday. Saturday was mostly cloudy but occasionally the sun poked its golden rays through illuminating everything with a warm glow. We stayed basically right on the beach.

Friday morning we took a long walk down the coast and then cut inland across the island. This wet greenery and sandy streets brought me right back to Nicaragua. I felt like I was revisiting a long lost home...
Here is the mud. I have other pictures to do the color of the rock more justice, but it is still hard to capture the vibrancy on camera. We climbed up to this sort of vat/pool of mud nestled into this cliff face. You had to crawl up because if you tried to walk you would sink too deep.
Here are Daisy, Jessica, Arilene, and Ysenina with the mostly dry mud all over their bodies.

Faces of Salvador

I admit, I have not been as good of a photographer as I hoped to be on this trip. Many times I choose to leave my camera at home because of the hassle of carrying it around, and the danger that it brings. Or even when I do bring it with me, I only reluctantly take it out so I don't draw attention to the fact that I am a tourist with a valuable camera. I do think I am being a little overly cautious, but as many of you know, I treat my camera like it was my first born child and if someone stole it/it got damaged, I would be devastated. Not just the value of the camera, but it would be like the loss of a friend.
Anyway, I took most of these pictures at the Favela we visited today in our culture class. Our teacher is very passionate about breaking the stereotypical image of a drug-ridden favela that City of God has given Americans. (For the record, the 'favelas' shown in that movie based in Rio are actually PROJECTS, not favelas).
Favelas are the type of living communities for the majority of the population who cannot climb the ranks to upper-middle class. Favela dwellers come and invade the land and begin to build their home (with the help of other favela dwellers). After three years of inhabiting the space, the land is considered theirs. Also after three years the government provides electricity, running water, and sewage system. Favelas also have the best views in the country. Unlike the US where the rich flock to the hills, here hills are covered in the disjunct little box houses that teeter on the slopes.
The favela we visited today is on a hill right on the edge of the ocean. The views are exquisite as is the breeze that provides a little relief from the scorching sun. The lack of roads (only uneven footpaths and disjoint stairways) in the community makes the entire area very tranquil and free from the bustle of city life. This specific favela is home to many foriegners (Italians, Americans, Germans, Swiss) though the majority are Brazilian. The community is working on this great beautification project of putting up mosaics on their walls.
Here are some of the kids that followed us around--gawking at the spectacle of Americans in their favela. As we, in turn, took out our cameras to gawk back:



Sorry about the underlined--I'm not sure how that happened. And dont forget to click on the photos to enlarge them

The City of Salvador

The Fallen Cross--symbolic of the Catholic Church (yes , seems quite a contraversial and progressive symbol)This is my family's pet Black Bird (I put this up for you lex). He sings all the time and eats fruit from your hand.
A meat market...mmm (actually one of the cleanest I've seen around the world though)
This is for you Nikki. These puppies were for sale at the open air market.
This is the famous elevator that connects the City Baixa to the City alta.
The Traditional Bahian woman
Pelorinho--the old city
This is my view from my window that I look at everyday
Igreja do Bonfim. Bonfim is the Patron Saint of the city of Salvador. This church is most famous for its Candomble traditions (african religion) that successfully mix with the Catholic religion
The view from the Church
PS. You can click on the pictures to enlarge them

Capoeira

I went to my first Capoeira class on Monday. It was amazing. Capoeira (for those of you who dont know), is a sort of Afro-Brazilian Martial Art. Without contact, two players fight in a a circle. They keep eye contact and flip and twist and duck and kick in a completely spontaneous ritualistic sort of dance. Meanwhile the onlookers are playing African instruments (the Birimbau, and the drums) and others are singing call and response chants and clapping their hands.

Doing capoeira gives you such a feeling of respect, strength, and control for yourself and others. Needless to say, I was ungraceful and quiet timid. But, in the class there are everyone from beginners to masters and all are welcome. For the first hour of class the 30 of us students (in remarkable silence) follow the maestro in stretches/strengthening exercises. He, himself, is a remarkable and laconic man. Everything was learnt by watching, and when he came over to correct your stance, he would silently but forcefully angle your foot in the right direction or push your arm up to proper form. Within five minutes we were all sweating profusely.

The second hour of class we play/fight (in portuguese you say you jogo capoeira `I play capoeira´) in the circle with the music. Our teacher began by fighting his very best students. The teacher is such a boss. I mean like in all meanings of the word (Boss: (noun) A highly respected, known person. Top of the line whoruns things around his hood). Though the sport is non violent he would punish his players if they ever took their eyes off him for a split second by tripping them, or pushing them to the ground. The whole fight reminded me of an animalistic dance to show alpha male dominance in a pack. You could not help but look up in awe at this teacher.

Two days later, I am a little sore (especially in my back muscles) and am excited to go again.

Pictures

Its what you have all been waiting for. To be honest I have not been as paparazzi-crazy as usual, I think out of fear for my camera getting stolen. And the lack of posting pictures is due to the slow internet access I have. But here is a little taste of what I see every day!
This first picture is of me and my host mom (Marla) the day we met.



The next picture is of my quaint little room on the 13th floor.
The third picture is of me at the beach with UCLA friend Amy. I am wearing my Brazilian bathing suit for the first time...hence the tan lines.




The final picture (i have no patience to post more, and I am about to go to a capoeira class so I must be quick) is of a quiet morning at Porto da Barra (pronounced like spanish baja). This, i have heard, is rated the thrid best beach in the world. And it is usually much more crowded. It is about a 10 or fifteen minute walk down the hill from my house to this beach.

Chateau Sketch

It looked like a Chateau that had been bombed desperately clinging to the hillside. The baroque façade contrasted with the sheets of plywood and industrial concrete that held this place up on a slope too steep to inhabit. Inside it was extremely dark--lit only by blacklight. People who wore white glowed, but most were undifinable black figures. The faint outlines of their dread locks were slightly visible through the smoke that made my eyes itch. Where were we? Zaubers--the sketchiest (Reggae) club I have ever been to. Its mere existance defied all instinct.

When we first taxied to Pelorinho, though we did not know its exact location, we figured that it was notable enough that anyone could point us in the right direction. However every person we asked denied to have ever heard of such a place...We finally called a girl who had frequented the venue before. She quite calmly told us that this place contradicted all that you had ever been taught about Brazil. Between Praça da Se and the Fallen Cross, there was a dark cobble stone alley. At the bottom of the hill, we would find the club. There was just three of us girls, who decided to leave early enough to get in for free before 10. When we got to the alley way a man would not let us pass on foot--due to the construction it was too dangerous. He told us to get into his car and he would drive us there. So here we were, about to defy the most deeply engrained lesson a child is ever taught--getting in a car with a stranger. Unconvinced, we continued to question this man, who claimed his validity by pointing to the Zauber logo on his white T-Shirt. A hundred yards down the alley, however, we could see two figures walking, and we asked him why they were allowed down there. Drug dealers, he told us.

We called the rest of our crew, urging them to hurry and meet us here, because the thought of us girls getting into the car made me sufficiently uncomfortable. But the Zauber gaurds insisted that their car (no taxis) was the only way to get there, and that their lift was free of charge. There were two other young Brazilians (a girl and a boy) dressed to dance who headed to the car to get to the club. I trusted their judgement and with the encouragement of the Zauber workers, was ushered into the front seat of a old red car. But once they started driving, we bulleted passed the alley without turning. My eyes turned wide and I held my breath. From out of the window we saw two other kids from our program and they told us that they had to take the car ride last time too, so I exhaled. We wound down a narrow cobble stone street to the lower city past the famous Elevador.

We arrived infront of a half built building growing out of the cliffside. We followed the other guests up a ramp dodging puddles (it was drizzling) to the entrance. The entrance was not welcoming in the least. It was a huge black wall. Through a 6inch triangle in the wall you bought your tickets (we made it in free). Past this wall there was this beautiful open patio/walkway. Where you had a view of the city with its baroque architecture and the yellow of the streetlamps shown both in the sky and reflected in the puddles on the street. This was Zaubers.

We stepped inside and the sweet scent of weed enveloped me. I blinked my eyes, to adjust to the darkness, but to no avail, the room inside was dark. But finally I felt a little more relaxed...this seemed about as legit as a party in Oakland. Girls, as usual had to find the bathroom first. The bathroom had was half indoors and half outside. One wall was made of the rock face of the clifside. The roof was more like large leaves of vegetation growing above the building.

The rest of the evening passed plesantly. The reggae was fun, and as the group of us students grew, so did my enjoyment.

P.S. To all those concerned readers/parents, I took liberty to dramatize the retelling of the story, and while it is all true, I never actually was that scared, or felt that I was in anyway in danger. And everyone made it there and back safe and soundly.

Political Party

Like in the United States, Brazilian elections are looming. (October 5th is election day, as well as my birthday). Which party will win? The loudest and most fun party, I presume. The main method of campaigning is by music. Cars to drive around with huge speakers straped onto their roofs and blare jingles (that constantly get stuck in your head) that promote their canditate. The tunes are very catchy...imagine something like PussyCat Dolls, only singing about McCain...
Since windows are wide open in every house, the message gets spread easily. One morning, one of these cars was parked on the street somewhere near my apartment and was broadcasting a campaign speech. No need to go to the DNC or even waste time watching a boring speech in front of the tv...the speech gets to you no matter what you are doing. There is no blocking it out.

Another way Ive seen the parties campaign is by hiring loads of people to stand on busy streets for hours with flags with their name on it.

I wonder what the voter turn out is like in Brazil because they also have TV commercials (all the time) about being a responsible person and voting (sponsered by the Brazilian government). Or saying that you have control of your future and your government you should vote. It seems that the American government would not care to waste money on that.

Speaking of government today was Independence day and there was a HUGE parade right outside of my house. Every imaginable military regime was represented in ludacris hats or complete with camo face paint. Independence day seems to be about showing off Brazils HUGE military...ya know like dont mess with us...rather than the US where we try to focus on BBQs and red white and blue. It was quite enjoyable though.

One week

Dear friends,

Sorry for the lack of updates this past week. While much has happened, nothing seems too noteworthy for a post so ill just give you some updates on my life.

We started portuguese class. I was placed in the most advanced. Class is really fun we played guess who to practice describing people and have fun little dialogues etc. We have class from 10-12 in the morning. Then I head home for lunch. My mom makes the best food. I always have the most delicious fruit juice (mango, guava, orange, strawberry, tapioca, watermelon, etc or a mixture of any of these). My mom has made great vegetarian meals and is into health food. (She always tells me that this or that is `bem lite´ or ´com zero calorias´so that i can have dessert after). She makes the most amazing cakes (dark chocolate, coconut, almond and chocolate with strawberry) and one day she made me chocolate fondue with fruit. mmmm

2-3 times a week in the afternoon we have Culture class. I have yet to decide what i think about this class. One day we had a lecture on the history of brazil from inception to the republic. and the next class we had the EXACT same chunk of history but from a different guest lecturer. Along with the class we have gone to a capoiera class and a brazilian dance class which have been fun.

Ive spent a lot of time walking around my neighborhood (and the ones nearby) on the drizzly days (but its still warm enough to wear shorts and tanktops). Or spending time at the beach on the sunny ones.

Brazilians continue to impress me with their warm spirits and the carnal desire of the men to take you home. But really, i only have positive things to say about them.

p.s. My mom and i talked (well she did most of the talking) for over an hour after dinner once...Though it doesn~t feel like it, it must mean that my portuguese is getting loads better.

Tomorrow is independence day and there is a parade at nine in the morning so until then tchao!

Living the Life

Brazilians live the life. ACTUALLY.

Picture this. It is a sunday afternoon, mid winter. The sun is beating down (though it is not too hot), and thousands of people have walked over to the beach to enjoy the day. The sand is soft and warm, and the turqouise water extends out in front of you as the sunlight dances upon the ripples in the water. Large white waves crash on the shore which is dotted with bright colored sarongs and umbrellas. All around you are dark men with perfectly toned abs and strong bodies walking around in their euro-short speedos. They dive into the water with their surf boards. They stand in large circles juggling a soccer ball. They pass around a joint and drink some beer. Or they gracefully play capoiera, doing flips and one-handed stands as they circle eachother in an artistic fight. There are fresh coconut vendors who, with a few quick flicks from a machete slice off the top and hand you a straw to sip the sweet water from inside. No one keeps track of time, because there are no obligations.

Yes, my friends, that was my afternoon yesterday. It was exquisite. I played some frisbee, and sported my new, too small, bikini with pride. The water stays shallow for quite a long way, but the waves are very turbulent and with every crash take off your clothes. The Brazilians laugh because they think those waves are small, though every one of us Americans disagreed. We left just before sunset to get home before dark and since some clouds had blown our way and were threatening rain. It was wonderful