Batizado

Today I had my Capoeira Batizado. Literally 'batizado' means baptism, but in Capoeira terms it is the day that you get your Capoeira belt. Everyone has a belt to signify their level/skill.A few
weeks prior I was given a Capoeira name as well. Mine is Sereia which means Mermaid in Portuguese. After you get presented with your belt everyone must play with a mestre or other highly skilled capoerista.

I was really nervous because you play until they beat you by either pushing you out of the roda (circle), or by knocking your standing foot out from underneath you, and some people the pick them all the way up off the ground. Anyway, it was really much more fun than nerve wracking, and I performed well. The Batizado lasted all day for there were tons of people receiving belts. It started with the little kids. They were so adorable. Some of them were probably no more than 5 years old and already they were doing head spins and cartwheels. It was a gorgeous and hot summer Sunday. And the nervous but excited energy in the room fondly reminded me of Skating Competitions.

This is my favorite little kid. He trains with us in the evening (most of the kids go to daytime classes) and is SUPER good:



The whole celebration ended with a Samba de Roda and a meal (Fejoada com farofa and arroz). Of course as soon as we were sitting around and socializing the boys began playing the drums and everyone joins in with their own beat (whether playing a real instrument or just tapping the table). I swear, Bahians come out of the womb playing the drums. The music is everywhere and enjoying music means participating.

Capoeira has really been a defining part of my trip here in Brazil Not only playing Capoeira in its birthplace (Salvador), but also we have made pretty good friends with the other capoeristas. We hang out with them outside of class and they provide me with an opportunity to use my Portuguese.



P.S. Yes, I got my hair braided yesterday for fun. It took over two hours!!

Obama!!!!

Election fever here was quite strong. We stayed up until 2 am in the lobby of a hotel that showed CNN in order to watch the votes get counted and Obama win! It was quite exciting and tears of joy were shed during Obama's speech. I don't think people in America realize how monumental this moment is for the world. In the few days prior to the election, I had countless conversations with taxi drivers, porteiros, or random salesmen on the street about the elections. These people who never in their lives will travel to America and many of whom have had a scrappy education cared deeply about the outcome of this election. They absolutely hate Bush and were ecstatic that I voted for Obama. In their minds, most Americans like Bush...otherwise how could he have been elected twice? Good question, but one I do not want to go into now.

In class on Wednesday we discussed the global impact of electing Obama. While throughout his campaign Obama did not pull the race card, his race sends a HUGE message to the world. A black man, president of the biggest superpower in the world...most people thought it impossible.

Though the population of Salvador is 85% black, they have NEVER had a black mayor (and this city was the first city founded in Brazil in the early 1500's). In the country of Brazil, which is home to the largest black population out of Africa has NEVER had a black president either. There are only 2 black people who hold even remotely powerful political positions and they are both in the ministry of culture. Obama is now serving as a role model to the world to show that a black person can be President. It is really impressive the potential impact Obama can have on the black movement here in Brazil. This unit in our culture class is about the Black movement here which was basically inspired and influenced 100% by Martin Luther King Jr, Malcolm X, James Brown, and the Jackson 5 and would not have existed without the US black power movement. The ripples made in the states crash as waves all over the world.

So thank you America for electing Obama!!!!

(P.S. but what happened California?...how could Prop 8 have passed?!?!?!)

Building Castles

I had intended to include a description of this guy in the entry about Avenida Sete de Setembro, but I decided he warranted his very own post.


Behind those eyes there is a story to tell. He looks off into the distance and his mind wanders over the ruins of the castles of his dreams. He looks with sorrow, but with this self-aware acknowledgment that makes me curious. His eyes are big and round, with the innocence of a joyful child. But the wrinkles upon his brow know his trials. I want to make eye contact, to bore deep into those dark holes and connect to his trapped spirit. But I look down and away, because society has taught me that he could be dangerous or unpredictable, and definitely not someone to initiate conversation with.
He never shouts out or mumbles to himself. He never begs or reaches out to grab your hand. He never smiles. He just looks with those wide eyes. Do I smile? Do I say good morning? Do I sit down next to him and look off into that distance? Can I offer my hand for all those stones? They scatter the ground-- some cracked, some pulverized. They lay there defeated.
He has dignity. For most of the day he sits on a piece of cardboard against a tree, because it is cleaner than the ground. He has Nike shoes and a nice bike with 21 gears that leans against the green fence in front of administration of agriculture. His hair is trimmed short and his beard well kept. His red and blue shirt stays clean. He has a backpack that is zipped up and rests on the back of his bike. And he sits there all day, knees up, and arms resting on them. People pass, cars drive by but no one acknowledges him. His mind is off, back to those castles. He is picking up the cracked stones—dusting them off, lining them up. He is here and he is there, and he is aware.
Sometimes he is laying down with his girlfriend. He spreads out a plaid red sheet on top of a few pieces of cardboard. It is a king size bed from the Venetian hotel, right there on the cobblestones. He has one arm around her, and lays there, looking up at the sky through the leaves of the oak trees. His shoes off and tucked up against the wall. She sleeps with a pained look on her face. Her dreams provide no escape from her suffering. She stays on her side, curled up. Her torn T-shirt doesn't cover her protruding belly. Her feet are bare, callused and dirty. The curls on her head are matted. She is always asleep; trapped in that tormented dream. And he lays there looking up. Out of his soul he pours the walls of protection for this girl. He waits for her, but I don't think she will ever make it there. But he has patience, with one hand beneath the back of his head and one hand under hers. He mixes the mortar to lay the bricks one by one. He has faith. Her bedroom will have a big window with lace curtains and a thick white carpet.
She disappears for weeks at a time. And when she comes back its the same; she is always asleep. But, her belly is a little bit rounder, her shirt a little bit dirty, and the bars of the hell she is trapped in, no closer to being unlocked. He says not a word, but he welcomes her with open arms. He looks at her with those wide eyes as she sleeps. He sees her with a summer dress on and shoes and freshly washed hair. But she can't see it, she doesn't open her eyes or want to see her own reflection. She is gone. She has no strength to climb up to his castle. But he knows. When he's finished painting the trim and planting the garden in the front, he will lift her up and carry her inside.

Praia do Forte

Praia do Forte is a small fishing village 2 hours north of Salvador. This fishing village has now become more of an artisan town and a Turtle Reserve. A group of us spent this past Friday and Saturday there. Here are some of the highlights of things we saw:

We arrived mid afternoon on Friday, and the sun began to set soon after we ate our late lunch/early dinner. Here is the town square, and the sunset on the coast with the silhouetted fishing boats.




Saturday morning we visited the turtle reserve which serves to save, rehabilitate, repopulate and educate about sea turtles (or tartarugas in Portuguese). They had all types and sizes of turtles including ones that were smaller than the palm of your hand (sooo cute):

Avenida Sete de Setembro

The uneven cobble stones have become familiar to my feet. Their rough edges and protruding faces no longer catch my toes or cause me to trip. I know when to hold my breath as I pass the tree of deification. This tree would take at least four people to hug its trunk sits smack in the middle of the sidewalk so you must dodge into the street to get buy. It guards the front of the haunted house whose cracked walls are stained with moss. The windows are ajar and the door shut and the house remains empty except occasionally when a few burly men spend all day carting out broken wood furniture from inside onto a flat bed truck. This tree, that once awed me, now disgusts me, for it reeks of acrid urine and occasionally is graced with human feces. It would take twenty of me to circumvent its trunk for I refuse to get too close. But as I hold my breath, and plug my nose and put my head down to try to walk I bit faster, I understand. It is prime property for the homeless, because ghosts can't protest pissing on million dollar property.

I always wave to the Porteiro at Edificio Lisboa. He always has an a black fez hat and a twinkle in his eye, and despite the fact or only interaction is waving 4 times a day, it never ceases to brighten his day. Just past his building is a huge construction site. This is the unpredictable part of the path. Its capricious state keeps you on your toes. Sometimes the sidewalk there is all together impassable and you have to brave your way into the street, suck in your stomach and hope not to get hit. But usually you can leap your way across the broken side walk on the metal electrical manholes like a frog across lily pads. The construction workers are also unpredictable. Sometimes they make no notice of passersby. But other times they call out in a cacophony of pick up lines. And this, mind you, is not correlated to how you look. One day, in a baggy tie-dye t-shirt, one man must have said “linda” a hundred times in the time it took me to pass. Whilst his friend told the other that he would fight him for me, and yet another called out for me to stop and come talk to him. But everyday I keep my head down, leap over the sand, and try to keep from laughing out loud at the ridiculousness of their attempts.

Next comes the high school which is like grand central station with kids coming and going in every direction in their blue t shirts and jeans. Right in front of the bars that make up the schools facade a man sells all sorts of fried snacks. To be honest, I am not even sure what he sells for the crowd of kids around him is always two or three heads deep. Whatever it is, it must be the tastiest thing on the block. Here, I always must slow my pace and squeeze my way past the congestion with “Com licensa” on my lips. Right next to this food stand there is another with an extensive menu of cheeseburgers and sandwiches. This too always has a few people crowded round, but no one is eating. They all are watching the 9inch screen tv that sits on a plastic stool and that perpetually plays Woody Woodpecker cartoons.

Past that, its the home stretch to school. I pass a couple more journeleiros, skip over the puddle that always gathers in front of Edificio Jose Costa, and “Ladies & Co” Boutique. I finally reach the blue and yellow gate of ACBEU. The guard at the front always says 'bom dia' or 'boa tarde' and stares at you with these piercing eyes. I return the salutation, but do not hold the gaze, duck in through the gate and join the gringos gathered in the courtyard.

Vitoria--minha vida, meu orgulho, meu amor

So this past week was midterms, papers, headaches, tired eyes, and the realization that time has flown by. I have been having such a great time here in Brazil, I am already dreading leaving! There is so much I feel that I have left to do. I am trying to dig my heels into the ground, or turn my watch back a few hours, or some how put on the brakes of this high speed train called life. I am not nearly tan enough, my Portuguese is getting better but I haven't forgotten English yet, I haven't won a Capoeira battle, I have not danced pagode all night...the list goes on. I did, however, manage to do some memorable things this weekend:

1. Bale Folcorico--We went to this performance on Thursday night that exhibited traditional Bahian performance. We saw makulele (a high energy dance/staged fight with swords and sticks), a long dance of Orishas, and some acrobatic Capoeira that was absolutely breath taking. My favorite act was the fire-dancer. This man with a cauldron of fire balanced on his head and two small bowls of fire in his hand danced and twirled across the floor. Once he put the bowls down he held the flames with his hands and stood on the fire with his bare feet. Needless to say it was very impressive.

2. Ile Aiye--This is the most renown Afro-Brazilian drum group in Brazil that was founded here in Salvador. They were an important element of the Black Movement in the 1970s and continue today to be leaders in the maintaining black pride and culture. They are the oldest and most famous black group to perform in Carnival. Anyway, every month they play music all night in this big empty gym-esque building over in Liberdade (a neighborhood about 30 minutes away). Their drumming just fills your soul and your heart beats one with the drums and your feet begin to dance to the rhythm. We danced all night and I could not wipe the smile off my face even though my checks began to hurt.

You can't really capture the feeling or music in a picture but here are the drummers:


3. Futebol! I finally went to a Brazilian soccer game! Vitoria (thats my team, from Salvador) vs. Flumenese (a Rio team that traditionally is strong but having a weak year). I had bought a jersey a few days ago in preparation for the game. The bus ride there was AMAZING. We were sardined into a bus crowded with Vitoria fans. Everyone was drumming on the windows and the ceiling and singing Vitoria chants and songs, after a few refrains to catch the words we were singing too. I couldn't partake in the drumming because the bus sped through the city so fast that I had to cling on for dear life (picture how fast the Knight bus from HP3 would take the turns...it was basically like that). It was on the bus I decided that Brazilians need to teach Americans a lesson or two about delectation. The energy was just great. It felt like the Quidditch world cup outside the stadium with different vendors selling their paraphernalia and everyone excited and cheering. At the start of the game the mascot even came on the field (I was so juiced!). Vitoria is red and has a lion mascot (which is KINDA like Gryffindor, which of course got me excited as well) The game was good, but we ended in a tie 2-2. I definitely miss going to UCLA football games (and dancing to Ow!).

Here I am with my friend Alex decked out in our gear (unfortunately I don't have face paint)


I really like this picture I took of all the jerseys for sale
and no, its not upside down, they are all just hanging that way.
Oh and if you are wondering, Fiat is the sponsor not a player

Lencois

Nestled 6 hours inland from Salvador is a small town called Lencois. The nature surrounding Lencois is absolutely breath taking (Abba, you would have loved it). There are very impressive rock formations, plateaus, and caves. Also there are amazing waterholes and waterfalls. The area is extremely unpopulated and tranquil (We were basically the only people there, and from the top of the highest plateau there was not one village/town/or city in sight). We spent Friday through Sunday there. Here are some pictures to describe my weekend:

1. Ｗe climbed to the top of this Chapada (plateau). The view from the top was amazing. The land expanded around me green and flat except the outcroppings of rock chapadas. Literally there was not a town or inhabitance as far as the eye could see. This land was once underwater.

2. Here I am doing a cartwheel at the top

3. The wind was very strong. We were on top of the world!

４．　Friday afternoon, after hiking up the chapada, we went to "O Posso do Pato" to swim. Unfortunately it was cloudy and evening so our ganas to get in the water was not so strong. However, once we arrived it was so beautiful we jumped into the cold water--you just had to be a part of it. 　


５．On Saturday morning we hiked through some underground caves. They were made by subterranean rivers. The orange color in the rocks is due to iron deposits

６．Inside the cave there was some stalactites and stalagmites forming. This one is called the Angel...I thought it looked like nature's version of the Winged Nike！

7. Here we are climbing out. (We had to walk through the cave with a lantern, but once we saw light coming from the exit I immediately thought of the red 'puter saying "the light that you see at the end of the tunnel, is the head light of a fast approaching train")

8.．After that hike we went down to "Posso de Diablo." This was another amazing water hole. To get there you have to traipse over large rocks and boulders. We ziplined down from the top into the water.


９．On Sunday, we only had a half day. We took another hour hike to this natural waterslide. The slide was sooo much fun! It was like tobagoning but in water.　Click on the picture to enlarge it and see a person on their way down.
10. Another picture of me and Nadia at the slide.