Soccer and Symphony

While at times I feel I am lacking in general activities of any and all type, this week was an indulgence by comparison.  On Tuesday, I attended my first Brazilian futebol (soccer) match and on Thursday I visited the Sala São Paulo to hear the São Paulo Symphony Orchestra (OSESP) play.

The soccer game was hosted by one of Campinas' two professional teams, Ponte Preta.  Brazil has several leagues which move after each season, depending on the teams' standings.  (The worst two teams go down a league and the best two move up.)  While Ponte Preta holds the honor of being one of the oldest clubs in Brazil, they have never won a championship and, historically, have resided in the lowest league.  Recently, however, they have had some successes and are busting out of their "loser" reputation.

"The most loved monkey in all Brazil"

Lovingly called the "macacas" (monkeys), their fans are loyal and animated. With fans dressed in the requisite black and white, the stadium was decently full for a Tuesday night game, which the home team won, 1-0.

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The Orquestra Sinfônica do Estado de São Paulo (OSESP) plays in the beautiful Sala São Paulo, which was once a train depot.  One of the world's best orchestras, we had seats in the "choir" which was a uniquely situated section directly behind the musicians, prime seating to watch the conductor.

Norwegian conductor, Eivind Gullberg Jensen, leads the ensemble.

The orchestra frequently brings in top international talent, both as conductors and musicians.  This night the orchestra was conducted by Norwegian Eivind Gullberg Jensen, and performed Mozart's "The Magic Flute" (featuring Soprano, and fellow Norwegian, Mari Eriksmoen) and Sibelius' Symphony No 5 in E flat Major.

My friend and colleague, Raquel, and me took advantage of our prime seats
 with a little #selfie action before the musicians take the stage.

Having played violin in orchestras for several years, I am used to seeing the conductor, albeit with a left side profile.  It was interesting to be back in the POV of the musicians, but with different vantage and nothing to do other than listen and enjoy.

Waiting for Heidi

Charming in the daylight and evening, alike.

When one thinks of rolling green hills, pine trees, knit sweaters, cheese fondue, chocolate shops, and chair lifts, imagines of Germany and Switzerland undoubtable come to mind.  But Brazil?  How do these objects fit into the stereotype of endless beaches, palm tree-hopping monkeys, and icy caipirinhas?  In the rural mountain town of Campos do Jordão, they do!

Situated in the Mantiqueira Mountains in the state of São Paulo near the Minas Gerais border, the highest city in Brazil at over 5,300 ft, is known for its identity crisis.  Visiting in early May, adds to the experience as the temperature hovers within the 50's (Fº) and the leaves on many of the maple trees are turing yellow and orange in anticipation of the coming Brazilian "winter."

Despite Brazil's mix of European settlers, there is no logical explanation for the Alpine architectural "look" of the town beyond the clever tourism marketing and the fact that it just "works." Nevertheless, it's a great place to escape the heat enjoy some reasonably priced and delicious specialty microbrews, cheeses, and chocolates.

The teleférico is a bit unnerving on the way down, but offers an unbeatable
 view of the city and the countryside.

Almost makes you want to bust out some Euros!

Meet Castello.
In between cheese fondues and hot chocolate, a trail ride
through the woods to a waterfall fits right with the day.

Or Chocolate Beer from the local Baden Baden brewery.
Only available in Campos do Jordão - not distributed anywhere.

Once more, how is this Brazil?!?

The South Will Rise Again (Part II)

Today I walked through a cemetery decorated with Confederate flags, tucked under a grove of pine and palm trees in the middle of a sugar cane field.  Patsy Cline was singing "Walkin' After Midnight" and people in antebellum dresses were sitting in the shade, eating fried chicken and biscuits.  "Where am I and what is happening?!?" I kept thinking. 

Several weeks ago a few friends and I visited the Museu da Imigração in the town of Santa Bárbara d'Oeste, a museum dedicated to the small but concentrated group of immigrants from the southern part of the United States who came to Brazil just after the end of the American Civil War.  Though small in number compared to settlers from other parts of the world, the Confederados influence on the area - non-Catholic churches, certain fried foods - remains to this day.

As does the divisive Confederate Flag.  However, where this is often seen as a symbol of racism and ignorance in the US, Brazilian descendants of the original Confederados see it simply as the representation of the land their ancestors came from, much like a third generation Italian may still feel pride hoisting an Italian flag.  When the Confederados left home for the last time, in their minds they were leaving this country; despite the fact that they lost the war, they carried the symbol with them to represent where they came from.

Many generations later the Fraternidade Descendência Americana (Fraternity of American Descendants) hosts an annual Festa Confederada (Confederate Party) as a fundraiser for their organization's community projects.  The kicker is that the the event is held in a cemetery where the original Confederados are buried.  (At the time, the Catholic church wouldn't allow these non-Catholics to use the Catholic cemetery so they started one on a piece of land outside of town on a farm.)

Becca and Jason model the theme of the festival.  I feel it needs a hashtag.

A group of us Gringos - some southerners, a couple Yanks, a Brit, and a few Canucks - ventured out to the cemetery to see what this was all about.  I went in with no expectations.  I left feeling like I had stepped through some Twilighty Zone where nothing bad happened.  I may be being dramatic but I still have the initial gut reaction of discomfort when I see a Confederate flag, half expecting to see a sea of pillow case headdresses and flaming torches, so the shear abundance of them was disconcerting.  In the end, it was strangely just part of the decor.  I couldn't complain about the people-watching either!

Festival paraphernalia.
Even the "tickets" used to buy food were faux-Confederate dollars.

Yeah, I don't think I'll be running for public office with this photo
floating around the interwebs...

The presentation of the old Confederate states' flags.
Please note the stage floor...as if it could be missed!

The oldest tombstones dated back to the late 1860's. 

Great people watching; I became unapologetically paparazzi-esque.

And what Confederate festival wouldn't be complete without some southern rock?

Sticky Obsession

Every four years when the World Cup rolls around, FIFA puts out a booklet that fans are supposed to fill with stickers of the players, teams, stadiums, and other related images.  Think baseball cards with less stats and more adhesive.

While the booklets are available around the world, the excitement to collect and trade them in the host country is at a fever pitch.  As a teacher this can be the worst distraction possible...unless you find a way to use it to your advantage: if you can't beat 'em, join 'em!  And then confiscate stickers for yourself when the situation arises.

As I will be attending two matches in June the book serves the dual purpose as a sort of Official Programme, displaying all the rounds, locations, dates, etc. in addition to the primary function of a who's who of the Cup.

O que você tem? 
Stickers and albums can be purchased at most places that magazines and
newspapers are sold.  It is not uncommon to see collectors of all ages
mingling outside newsstands, trading and dealing their "repetidas" (duplicates).
This is serious stuff, folks.

Paulinho?  Check!
There are multiple ways to document the over 600 stickers needed to
complete the album.  I chose to use the app wherein you simply scan each
sticker and it catalogues it for you, even helping you to manage your trading.

The South Will Rise Again (Part I)

Brazil is a diverse country.  This is evident in the food, music, dance, and faces of its people.  Brazil claims Portuguese, German, Italian, Lebanese, and Japanese in its melting pot of foreign immigrants.  But there was a time when a significant number of (ex) Americans were making their way to the southern hemisphere in droves.

A little known piece of history about the settling of Brazil has direct ties to the Civil War in the United States.  After the Confederates lost the battle to secede from the Union, and thus the right to keep slaves, the economy was not exactly healthy and many once comfortable families were then struggling.  In stepped Brazil, wanting to increase its own agriculture and economy by enticing new potential citizens - of the "right" color and breeding, essentially - to move and help settle Brazil.

Thus, beginning in 1866, most of these "Confederados" began settling in what is now the state of São Paulo, around the municipality of Campinas, as it was one of the few parts of the country where Catholicism was not the dominant faith.  Here Presbyterian, Pentecostal, Baptist, Episcopalian, and other Protestant communities were in abundance.  This became especially true of Santa Bárbara D'Oeste and the neighboring, appropriately named Americana, both of which still exist today.

"Nationalities of Immigrants Entering São Paulo State from 1827-1936"
The Ex-Americans would likely have been classified as "não especificados"
as many of them did not identify with the United States of America as it was.
Also, the total of Confederado immigrants was only about 10,000 people.

To oversimplify things would be to say that these Confederates were bitter about losing their right to slaves and moved to some place that still allowed them, however, most of these immigrants were too poor to afford slaves once they got here and ended up working the land themselves for wealthier land owners, though in better conditions than the existing slave workforce. Nevertheless, their presence brought increased population and progress to the area, as these new immigrants brought with them their Southern traditions and agricultural methods.  Ironically, slavery became illegal in Brazil less than twenty years from when the Confederados first arrived.

In what was once an old town jail in Santa Bárbara D'Oeste, today stands the Museu da Imigração, a small testament to the reason why the Confederate flag can still be seen in a country thousands of miles and a continent away from where it was conceived.  In fact, there is a festival* in April of each year - in the cemetery where most of these immigrants are buried, no less - celebrating the bygone antebellum days.  (Herein lies "Part II"...)

Top: A baseball team composed of Confederados and their descendants
circa 1900.  Bottom: A Confederate $2 bill. The museum had many remnants
of life, such as this, likely brought with during the migration and left in the
bottom of drawers and closets for future relatives to find.

*I highly recommend checking out the website (As a Yankee northerner - redundant? - I enjoy the "Heritage, Not Hate" part.)

Copa Controversy

Continuing with the mantra that "bad press is still press," the media reporting on the upcoming Brazil-hosted FIFA World Cup took a break from the typical bashing of unfinished stadiums, infrastructural challenges, and general governmental corruption to bring you this:

It seems that Adidas has introduced a line of World Cup themed apparel in the US that has Brazilian authorities and event organizers upset.  Understandably, by hosting the World Cup, Brazil hopes to highlight other aspects of the country other than the stereotypical beaches and butts.  Or at least wants to be the sole controller and perpetuator of such stereotypes. 

Hopefully they will lead by example when the Opening Ceremonies debut on June 12th and allude to nothing tropical or sexual.

Edited to add: These mock designs were proposed as a preferred alternative by the Ministry of Sport. Well played, Brasil.

Don't Ever Change

The tiny colonial seaside port town of Paraty (say: pah-rah-CHEE) has seen many incarnations since it was first settled in the 1500's.  Since then, this modest town has played part in the import of miners and export of gold from the adjacent state of Minas Gerais and then for coffee after that.  Each industry eventually ended their mutual relationship with the port after the development of roads from other coastal locales such as Rio de Janeiro or São Paulo, which proved to be time-saving in terms of travel.

Consisting mostly of one or two-story white-washed colonial-era buildings with brightly colored doors and windows, Paraty is an easy place to get lost in.  Not physically, since it spans only a handful of blocks in any given direction, but mentally, as any visitor is easily transported to a simpler time.  It is not difficult to imagine horses clomping down the cobble-stoned streets, now off-limits to cars.  (And these cobble-stones are not small; it behooves pedestrians to keep one eye on their next step at all times.)

For a small town, it is strange to find so many churches scattered throughout its historic center.  Though small, and all Catholic, it turns out each was intended for different congregants: one for wealthy whites (built in 1800), one for slaves (1725), and another (1722) for mulattos - children of mixed race, but not necessarily slaves.

Before numeric addresses, most postage was directed to a street name and
door color, making it preferable to not have repeated colors on the same block.

The bay of Paraty is dotted with many small islands leading out to the open Atlantic Ocean.  We boarded a schooner for an afternoon of island hopping and enjoying the unique and majestic views of this region's coastline, known as the Mata Atlantica, a geographic and ecologic region with characteristics unique only to here (which I've had the pleasure to visit twice before whilst in Ubatuba and Ilha Grande).

Afternoon on the schooner Moana, touring the Bay of Paraty.

The beaches in Paraty are nothing to write home about, however, those of the islands in the bay, as well as several a short drive to the south are among the best in Brazil.  We ventured to the community of Trinidade, an old fishing village now filled with pousadas, restaurants, and hostels, to settle on Praia Meio for an afternoon.

Excuse the duck-face and douche-y peace sign - too much sun and
beautiful scenery make me a wannabe a surfer-bro.

It was a great decision that Brazil made Paraty a National Historic Site back in the 1960's, thus preserving its character for that niche group of tourists who want some sun and sand with a lot of timeless charm.