Rio Prep

I've been told no one does New Years Eve better than Rio de Janeiro.  We shall see.  For me, I've learned from experience over the years that this holiday is possibly one if the most over-rated of events.  Rio has a potential to change my mind, though I am purposefully setting my expectations to "lukewarm anticipation" in preparation.

Also in preparation for spending a week in this world-famous city, I watched a couple films.  The first was the award-winning Brazilian film City of God (Cidade de Deus) about the violent inner-workings of a large favela during the 1960's and 70's.  The second is the animated Rio, about a domesticated blue macaw from Minnesota (hey!) who ends up in the titular city and learns how to fly, literally and figuratively.

Based on these two movies - which were both great for different reasons - here is what I know and expect from my trip:

• All birds speak English. (Rio)
• Guns are as common as grains of sand and just as easy to acquire. (City of God)
• Your camera will not get jacked if you are friends with a slum lord. (City of God)
• Small break-dancing monkeys will steal from tourists at the Sugar Loaf. (Rio)
• Small children from the favela ("runts") will steal your pot at the beach. (City of God)
• I guess Minnesotans say "Cheese and sprinkles!" when we're exasperated.  So I should practice that. (Rio)
• Small birds with bottle caps for hats are totally legit. (Rio)
• Cocaine-addicted gingers are not to be trusted. (City of God) Probably all gingers as a general rule...
• Being a chicken is a dangerous station to have in life. (Both)
• Favelas are bad places filled with shady gangs who kill indiscriminately...and may deal in the illegal bird trade. (Both)
• The beach is an awesome place. (Both)
• Everyone loves samba - birds and ghetto thugs alike. (Both)

So, based on this information, off to Rio I go...Feliz Ano Novo!!!

Meet Me Halfway

Approximately six months ago I started a self-imposed challenge to read one book a week for an entire year.  Today marks the end of week twenty-six.  Halfway.  

It is not easy and I am not always on schedule, but I am still in the game.  And I have come across some great reads.  If you have any suggestions for where I should go from here, I would love them.  I do have a list, my Kindle, and few lent "real" books, but recommendations are always welcome!

Go Big Or Go Home

This is a capybara.

I often see them on some of my runs.

It may look cute, but they're really possibly the weirdest creature on the planet.  

Like a guinea pig you can ride.  

Capybara's are the world's largest rodents.  They can grow to be a little over 4ft in length and 2 ft tall.  One source I found claims they can weigh up to 170lbs!  

Makes me wonder why Ecuadorians waste their time eating those tiny little normal guinea pigs when they could throw one of these suckers on the spit and feed a small village?!?  

(Actually, Capybaras are eaten in Venezuela...but just for Easter.)

Capybaras live in groups, graze like cows and geese, eat their own feces, and can do this:

They swim.  A giant swimming guinea pig.  Awesome.
I think I'll stick to the running trails.

Drip Drip Drop (Part II)

Arctic tundra and tropical rainforest.  A mule and a bullet train.  E. coli and an elephant.  Frogger and...whatever it is my students are playing now.  Opposites.  Our privileged, well-funded school abuts one of Campinas' ghettos, or favellas.  There is a wall, however the members of this community - composed of rows of ply-wood and aluminum roofed homes and littered with abandoned  tire-less cars - know the societal level that attend the school; they hear the soccer games and playground squeals.  Some who happen to live in sturdier, two-story housing can even catch a glimpse of our students eating in the cantina and walking carefree to class along the beautifully green landscaping and manicured cobble-stone paths.

For embarrassment's sake, let's called it "awhile ago."  Awhile ago I wrote about a conference held in São Paulo for student social awareness clubs and groups called the Global Issues Network (GIN).  The students I co-sponsor in this Rotary-supported group - called SEED Club - presented a literacy program they have enacted in the Guaraçai favella behind the wall of our school.

A building exists, and in years past, it has been filled with shelves and donated books; computers with games; chairs, soft foot-stools, a plush reading chair, and other comfort-creating spaces; as well as a craft/activity room.  The students found it difficult to get the children of Guaraçai to become engaged in the "library" part of the building.  Thus was borne the idea of a reading incentive program.

The students created a secure check-out system with reward points for borrowing and returning books.  They also, with the help of the local Rotary club, took a story-telling workshop which has enabled them to better interact with the kids in the community in terms of literacy when we visit every Monday and Friday after the last bell rings for the day.

Below are a few pictures taken by a mother who has volunteered a lot of time getting donations, physical and monetary - from various multi-nationals as well as simple cataloguing of the books themselves.  At the end of the day, though, the students do a phenomenal job of running the show and doing their small part to be a positive influence on these children's lives.

A couple of high school girls help the community kids craft with clay.

A girl from the community browsed the stacks.

One of the senior club member teaches a couple
community girls how to play Twister

*All photographs by M. Burrows (c) 2012

Pants On Fire

There are two lies people living abroad in a country not of their native tongue deal with more than any other.  One they are told, the other they tell.

The former is how "good your new language is!"  It truly is amazing that even I know I pronounced things funny, conjugated everything in the wrong tense, and called you a woman, sir, but thank you.  Also, since I am aware of my own awfulness, this is no longer a compliment, but a perverse slap in the face.

The lie we tend to tell ourselves is actually more of a stretched untruth:

"Que pena, pero no hablo español." 

"Je suis très désolé, je ne parle pas français." 

"Me desculpe, mas não falo português."  

Sorry dude, I just don't speak your language.

This is an untruth on several levels, all of the speaker's own choosing.  For me, I understand a good deal in Portuguese, but if the speaker is too fast, slangy, or accented, then "I don't speak Portuguese."  However, since I do understand some things, oftentimes I use this catch-phrase to avoid a conversation.

Case in point, today at the grocery store on the way home from work:  All I needed was to grab some bananas, detergent, and eggs.  In and out.  Except when the oldest man in all of Campinas steps in front of me to complain about the price of papayas.  (This is not a figure of speech; he honestly wanted to vent his rage over the mark-up of the fruit compared to another shadier grocer a few blocks away.)

He spoke.  I understood the gist of his topic of conversation.  I decided I wanted no part in it.  I smiled and told him I didn't speak Portuguese.  You don't put yourself between the deer and the rifle unless you want to get shot.  I wanted to go home, not discuss the economic principles of papayas in Brazil.

Usually this lie works.  Normally people either smile back out of embarrassment or pity - sometimes suspicious eyebrow raised contempt - and step slowly away, lest they catch whatever language-related contagion you're carrying.  Not Grandpa Papaya!  He eyed me with a look that was both inconvenienced and stern; as if to say, "I didn't ask you if you spoke anything.  I told you the price of papayas is ridiculous!  Do you agree or not?!"

Also, I should mention I was cornered.  The man with a cane and four liver spots on his left cheek had me between a stocker's push-cart, the yogurts in the freezer case, and the now-infamous papayas.  And he was waving the ad from the other grocer in my face, clearly enough that I could see - thanks to the circle he drew around it - that, indeed, the papayas are cheaper a ten minute walk from here.  He was so adamant about them that I actually looked down at the bananas in my hand, concerned I had grabbed something else and he was just trying to be a good fellow consumer.

I reminded myself on the walk home that I used to use the verb "to comprehend" in lieu of "to understand" when I was trying to avoid conversation in Colombia.  Even the street beggars would look at you with pity and shake their heads with that one.  Time to go to the dictionary...

Big Island, Big Reward

The emerald-hued coast of Brazil between São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro can't be described as anything less than majestic.  The Atlantic seems to rise up to meet the brilliant green coastal slopes as they plunge into the sea.  This spectacular view is what we were greeted with every morning from our rainforest lodging on the hillside of Ilha Grande.

After hitching a ride to the historic sea-side town of Paraty, taking a couple hour bus ride to the small port-city of Angra dos Reis, followed by a 90-minute ferry ride, we finally arrived on the shores of Ilha Grande, the largest of a smattering of islands just off the coast of Brazil's mainland.

The village and bay of Abraão.  Mainland Brazil is in the distance.

Being awakened by parrots isn't such bad vacation wake-up call.

Making progress on my 52 in 52...

Breakfast of champions

Now-a-days Ilha Grande and its more than 70 scattered beaches is tourist mecca, filled during holidays and summer weekends with day-trippers from Rio, wandering hippie back-packers, surfers, and Argentines on a cruise-ship stop-over.  But that wasn't always the case.  Though never continually inhabited, even by indigenous populations, until the 1800's, the island has served many purposes in its short civilized history.

A short walk from the largest town, Vila do Abraão, one can find the ruins of Lazareto, a quarantine facility used for immigrants from Europe as a way to keep cholera from making landfall.  This same building was a used later for a number years as a jail before being imploded.  In some of the tinier inlets, small beach communities exist, as do the remnants of long-gone sardine canneries.  On the south side of the island, facing the open sea, in the town of Dois Rios, lie the remains of Brazil's Alcatraz, the Instituto Penal Cândido Mendes (IPCM).  The prison was active for roughly 100 years until it too was imploded in 1994 (notice a pattern here?).  Dois Rios also goes down in infamy as the home of a wealthy plantation owner who, from the relative isolation of his location, supported the continued trade of slaves well after its national prohibition.  Without the economic stability of illegal human trafficking and the jail, Dois Rios is a now sad shadow of its former self, albeit one with a gorgeous beach.

Praia Lopes Mendes - at around 3km long, this white-sand beach is touted
 as one of the most beautiful beaches in the country.

The remains of a window from the imploded jail at Dois Rios.

The Instituto Penal Cândido Mendes' outer wall.

The 200 year old aqueduct in the jungle used to bring water to the
quarantined immigrants just outside of present-day Abraão.

There are no true roads on Ilha Grande, save for the dirt one connecting Abraão and Dois Rios, and the only vehicles on the island are government related, so the only mode of transport from one site to another is by trail through the rainforest or water taxi along the shore.  Ilha Grande has found a balance; its tourist infrastructure is intact and healthy, but so is its ecology.  Whether you're looking for wildlife and rustic communing with nature, a candle-lit shrimp dinner on the beach, a look back in time, or a day of rowdy drinking surrounded by thong and speedo-clad revelers, Ilha Grande can deliver.  The reward is simply getting there!

Election Hangover: Brazilian-style

I imagine that would be with a caipirinha...

Living abroad I do get the pleasure of missing out on the endless barrage of election season attack-ads, unsolicited dinner-hour phone calls, and earnest neighborhood canvassers.  (I don't get to avoid the self-annointed politicos that seem to exponentially multiply all over my Facebook newsfeed by October.) This is the second time (and country) I have been outside of the US during a Presidential election and I still find the fascination leading up to and the discussion after, well...fascinating.

Four years ago in Cali, Colombia, Obama's
election was front page news for the city's
and country's newspapers!

Being three hours ahead of EST, I went to bed with only a small handful of States calling.  In the morning - according to Facebook newsfeed timestamps, it seems many did not go to bed - only Florida and Alaska remained and the numbers spoke for themselves.  Gobama!*

At school my first encounter with the "day after" were the Brazilian high school seniors who have there lockers located right outside my classroom.  Little do they seem to realize that tinted glass is only vision-proof and I am privy to every 7:45am opinion - drunken weekend updates, who the "bastard teachers" are, and latest YouTube sensations as well - that goes down as I casually set up the lab activity for the day.

The best thing about high school seniors is that they know everything.  They also speak with dogmatic conviction, provide no evidence for anything, and think they're the oppressed ones.  Some choice lines from this morning, from both sides of the aisle:

"You know that Obama only won because he's black and white people feel guilty about it."

"Romney, like, ran companies and so he knows stuff about money.  Americans obviously want to be poor 'cause, like, why the f*** would you not make him President then?"

Brazilian President since
2011, Dilma Rousseff.

Later at lunch some Brazilian colleagues were discussing, in general, how interesting they find the who voting process in the US.  The fact that there are only two main parties is mystifying.  In Brazil the political parties change like a chameleon's colors, and there are usually so many a candidate can win with far less than half the vote.  So, while Americans often yearn for more choices, Brazilian generally would prefer fewer.

Brazil also is no stranger to corruption.  They are envious of the fact that, in the US, a person with any kind of criminal record wouldn't likely be let anywhere near a convention caucus with hopes of throwing their name in the hat to run.  Whether its a good or bad thing to have an ex-convict running the show in a country is a whole other topic, Brazilian politicians often have open ties with some shady pasts.

At the end of the day, however, it seems Brazil would likely be a "blue state."

*In the spirit of full disclosure, I must admit I did not vote.  No reason, just factors.  The main one is that I currently am semi-stateless.  Last election the vote I cast counted for Wisconsin, as that was the last place I was registered to vote in and I still paid some taxes there the year prior.  Now my official address is in Minnesota, however, during the brief period of time I was home over the summer I was more concerned with whether I would have a visa or not that thoughts of November were nowhere to be found.  Plus, absentee ballots are only counted if it is close so...next time - I promise!

Drip Drip Drop (Part I)

An old fable that tells how, when the forest was burning and all the animals stood around watching, the tiny hummingbird flew back and forth from the river to the fire throwing one drop of water on it at a time.  When the other animals asked how the hummingbird thought it could actually make a difference, he replied, "It's the best I can do."  Thus was borne the theme of this year's GIN of the America's Conference.

The idea of the GIN Conference (Global Issues Network) is a student-led forum focusing on environmental and social topics, which is held around the world.  The conference is new to South America - this is only the second annual event here - but has been present and immensely successful annually in other continents including Asia, Africa, Europe, and North America for many years.

This year's conference was hosted by another American international school a short drive away in São Paulo and included schools from Brazil, Peru, Venezuela, Ecuador, Uruguay, Argentina, Costa Rica, the Dominican Republic, and even my old school in Colombia.

Throughout the three days students heard numerous keynote speakers on a variety of topics, many young eco-entreprenuers, as well as attended workshops presented by their peers on various projects, campaigns, and initiatives they have been working on at their respective schools.

It was impressive and inspiring to here the work and successes of students working to end malaria, create sustainable recycling programs in poor neighborhoods, and increase technological literacy for orphans, among many other projects.  Anyone who thinks the world's youth is on downward spiral needs to attend a GIN Conference to see otherwise.

Keynote speaker Bruno Massote, current president of Terracycle in Brazil,
talks about the concept of "eco-capitalism."  He's 29 years old.

One of my students presenting on improving literacy
of favila children through story-telling workshops.

Students from Venezuela discussing their project of recycling & reformatting
computers for use in teaching necessary basic computer skills to orphans
living in poverty in their city of Maracaibo.

Coming soon: Drip Drip Drop (Part II) will include profiles of projects the students I advise are working on.

Centimeter by Centimeter

As opposed to "Inch by Inch"

The business hasn't slowed down and looks to keep up for awhile.  I honestly haven't been this busy since my first year teaching!  I guess that's what four new courses, a new age group, and school will do to you.  I've been so busy I went and sailed swiftly and ignorantly past my two month point; a perfect time for a check in on progress.  

Fortunately, there has been some and I need to remind myself of this more often, especially when the lady at the bakery is simply asking me if I want a bag or not and all I want to do is snatch my croissant and change from her hand and run down the street screaming.

A few more caipirinha-filled afternoons
would be nice...

• I am finally wrapping my thick Gringo skull around centigrade.  My Canadian friends can now rejoice!  The temperature never really fluctuated much in Cali (Colombia) so I new what the lower to mid-30's felt like...and then my education into the mysterious "C" pretty much went on permanent vacation.  There are seasons here, which means fluctuation.
• My trainer at the gym invited me to play soccer with him and some of his friends.  Despite falling down once and being stuck in goal for the seven most terrifying minutes of my life, I appreciated the blind support and encouragement, from everyone.  According to my trainer, "In Brazil, we just like to play the game and have a good time; it doesn't matter if you're good."  It should be noted he said this before I even stepped on the pitch.
• I just discovered a built-in cutting board in my kitchen.
• The number of parent emails I have been receiving keeps going down exponentially by the week.  So, thus far my goal for surviving middle school - covering my rear ten times - seems to be working.
• I finally passed the One Direction quiz.  (Pass = above 60%)

Success in Portuguese is not on this list.

Little by little, bit by bit, pouco a pouco...

Forecast: Frio

In 6th grade science we are studying changes of states of matter.  I hit my own freezing point today.

Supposedly, spring began last week.  That was the word on the street sometime last week.  I didn't take much notice as to the exact date as the end of "winter" was fairly pleasant with cool mornings, crystal-clear blue and sunny skies all day, and a nice gentle breeze in the evenings.  I felt more of the same was on the horizon.

Last week was close to 35˚C (around 95˚F) and humid.  The air-conditioning in my classroom broke and I found out the nice evening breeze doesn't blow straight into my apartment, but parallel to it.  I slept on top of the covers with the ceiling fan on high.

Then today this happened:

I wore my jacket all day long.  And I wished the entire time I also had a sweater.  Now I know I am shaming my Minnesota roots with this admission of meteorologic weakness, however, 55˚F is not warm.  After being free of the hardy mid-west winters for over five years and adjusted to the eternally summer heat of Cali, I would not have snubbed my nose at a parka today.

So, is this a freak event?  According to the forecast, Campinas will have to endure one more day of this:

You know its a bad sign when the temperature color gradient only goes from frio (cold) to mais frio (colder).

The weather was so ridiculous the other night between intermittent splashes of rain and the whistling, whipping wind - my window shutters on the 14th floor woke me up at 4:30am - you would have thought a hurricane was-a-comin' were Campinas not a good 96 km inland.

Found this posted on Facebook during the deep freeze.
Title: "Temperature of the Day in Campinas"
Switch Settings: Alaskan Cold, Tornado Wind, Hard Rain
and Desert Heat

I know its getting colder in the northern hemisphere, but down here on the flip-side of the equator I feel it should be going the other way.  Come June when the school year is coming to a close and winter is setting in, I will be happy to escape to the warm Minnesota summer sun.

I don't feel its too much to ask for Brazil to get its seasons straight.  Or reversed.  Or whatever they're supposed to be down here!

Someone Needs An Education (Edition I)

Teaching Middle School students has given me a newfound appreciation for what I apparently do not know.  This is a semi-frequent post series high-lighting things I, according to my students, should be educated on.  I share my education with you all...

 This is One Direction:

They are a British boy-band from some prior season of that country's X-Factor reality show contest.  Every middle school girl wants to marry them.  They are the imported N*SYNC - and New Kids On The Block before that - of this generation.  Except they all look twelve.

Except they're not twelve.  They are [average age] nineteen.

They also apparently have names.  If you don't know them you are old and lame.

Two of these 19 year-old pop tarts have tattoos.  These two go by "Harry" and "Zayn" (not a misspelling, by the way).  One's social standing amongst friends could potentially be ruined if you a) do not have an opinion on said tattoos and b) if your opinion is wrong.

How did I escape this loaded question unscathed and blissfully still ignorant?

Well, it turns out "Harry" has been inked only a couple times.  "Zayn," however, has eight.  Or maybe nine.  Or eight.  This was a hot-button issue and, fearing for my life, I saw my escape and side-shuffled away just in time.

Lesson Learned: "Clean-cut," parent-friendly teeny-boppers singing harmless, catchy puppy-love songs apparently rival some bikers in the tat department.  What would Joey McIntyre think?!?

******EDITED TO ADD (21 - September, 2012)******

These girls aren't messing around.  Today I received a quiz.  One question, five points, spelling counts.

I failed.

Fortunately, the policy at my school holds that for any summative assessment where the student scores less than 70% they have the opportunity to do a "retake."  As you can see, I was kindly extended this option.


For your advanced education:

190 Candles

In the city of Campinas, the morning of September 7th would be a great day to rob a house and a terrible day to have a power outage or a heart attack.

That's because every single one of the city's police, medical workers, ambulances, utility trucks, and even school busses are making their way down the Independence Day parade route.  And based on this experience, Campinas does overkill well.

After a long delayed start, the parade began with a proverbial flexing of the muscles that every country is allowed to do on their country's birthday.  Every branch and regiment of the military and municipal police force marched down the street in full dress, lead by the (very good) Military Band.  This includes bike cops, police dogs, and ambulance drivers among others.

 

Then we all waited some more and along came the corps of public employees.  This being a national day off from work, I'm sure they were all thrilled to have to marching down the street waving at all those they service.  The crowning moment - after all the power, gas, and electric workers and their vehicles passed by - was the parade of never-ending school-busses.  

Arguably the worst part of the parade for all the kids trying to enjoy
their day off of school.

Now, I could be wrong, being that my Portuguese is still "developing," but I think these may have been new busses for the city's schools and this was their grand premier.  The crowd's excitement was moderate at the beginning and faded exponentially with each subsequent vehicle.

There was yet another long mysterious break, at which point various marching bands and city-wide organizations had their moment in the pavement.  I tried to use today as a practice session for future processional-like events I may want to photograph, such as Carnival, however, I may need a few more practices; parades are surprisingly challenging to photograph well.  Regardless, here are a few shots from the rest of the event:

I'm pretty certain this is the Campinas chapter of the Harry Potter Alliance.
But I don't speak Portuguese so I could be wrong.

Happy 190th Birthday, Brazil!

I Only Live Here

"It's her house, you just happen to live there."

This was the response I received several years ago after battling a silent weekly battle with my first maid.  I felt that my short white socks should be kept in the same drawer with my work-out attire.  I never really wore them at any other time than on runs and trips to the gym so that made perfect sense to me.  The Help, however, felt my socks would rather reside next to my equally white t-shirts, a few drawers away.

She eventually won.

Today I got my first visit from my new maid.  I am convinced there is a maid handbook replete with universal advise for how the employer should be living.

Allow me to take you on tour of my first-day-after discoveries...

Exhibits A & B: I believe a ruler was used.  All items perfectly aligned to the edges and each other?  Check.  Evenly distributed with equal parts space and materials?  Check.  Coasters precision fanned?  Check.

(Why my camera charger and US cell phone need to be on my night stand I can not yet answer.)

Exhibit C: Let the war begin.  I understand needing to clean the glass.  However, dropping the used wine corks down into the vase so that they are all standing upright requires both skill and time.  I tried.  We'll see how long this battle can be kept up; the number of corks will only grow so this could get interesting!

Exhibit D: Well, "Olá!" new potted plant on my kitchen table!  Where did you come from?  I guess my apartment was not as aesthetically pleasing as it should heave been.  My apologies. 

Exhibit E: The other war.  These glass storage containers - coffee, sugar, rice, and oats - were lined up single-file along the back counter wall when I left for work.  Now they are interpreting the ancient pyramids.  What if I don't want to eat oats next?  

Exhibit "pièce de résistance": The Code of the Unadorned Nail.  To quote the International Maid Handbook, "Leave no metal protrusion of the wall naked when you leave the residence.  Any object would be fortunate to have the elevated vantage point of a picture frame or coat hook and should be displayed with pride."


"I don't know why Bananagrams is hanging from my bedroom wall," I will tell future visitors to my apartment, "I only live here."

School House Rock

Following the brief (by no fault other than its own) city tour, I now present to you minha escola:

Upper School computer, math, and science classrooms.
The large pine trees to the left are the school's mascot's namesake: Go Giants!

Hallway outside my classroom.

The front half of my beautifully spacious classroom. 

The back lab half of my classroom.  (Complete with busy little 6th graders!)

The rest of the Upper School campus.

The bottom of campus: picnic area, cafeteria, gymnasium, playing fields...

There are monkeys on campus too.  Little tiny ones.  One of these days I hope to have a camera on hand to catch one in action.  Photos from the tree top canopies don't do the little simians justice.