Tudo Bem, Despite the Code Orange

Have arrived in SFO; typing away at the laptop while waiting for Appa to meet me. (Remember, Kanu, between the United and American check-in; sixth time's the charm:) ) The flight over was fairly good, despite the movie system being out of order. I sat next to a guy who is a wrestler (aspiring) living in Atlanta, but originally from California. He was a nice guy; I enjoyed talking to him, particularly because he's different than the people I normally interact with. The flight attendants tried to liven things up by having a guessing contest about how many combined years of experience they had (178; I guessed 126), which was cute. When we were waiting for our bags, there was an old woman playing Christmas songs on the harmonica, and every now and again we would clap. And, I just got complimented by a passer-by at my ability to type without looking. Seems I was right to be more optimistic about the West Coast.

I forgot how many Asians there are here, though. It's like the culture shock when I started college all over again.

Beleza Não

I'm sitting in Atlanta, listening to CNN (in English) as I write this. The air conditioning isn't on, people are carrying winter jackets, and there are no shortage of camouflaged soldiers in boots wandering around.

It's strange to be back, although I suppose I haven't really arrived yet. It's time to move on, I suppose, but I miss Rio, and I miss Raj. But, I don't really have the emotional or mental energy to write about my feelings on that, so I'll gloss over it for now. In brief summary - Appa came to visit for my last few days. It was nice, although I was a bit sad the whole time, which perhaps got in the way of my fun. But, we went to a samba school, went to a few fairs, and Appa had his fill of Ritz-recommended tours, so hopefully he got a nice taste of Rio.

The journey has been okay so far. We got to the airport via bus, and check-in and security were relatively easy. Brazilians are notoriously friendly, and it was especially evident at the airport. The entire check-in, security, customs process is fairly easy - at security, you don't even have to take out your laptop, much less bag your liquids or take off your shoes. They do do a bag inspection as you're about to board, but they have about 15 (friendly) people working and are fairly quick and efficient. And, there's no worry about missing your flight, as you've already handed them your ticket.

Atlanta is kind of a shock in comparison. Upon arrival I had to pick up and recheck my baggage, which is a complete waste of resources since really all I did was get my bags off the belt, put them on a cart, hand a guy my customs form (declaring $27 worth of purchases), and then go hand them to someone else to put them back on a different belt headed for my plane. No x-raying, no inspection, at least that I witnessed. But, apparently we're at a code orange (thank you for the announcements, Hartsfield-Jackson) so clearly this is making a difference. Security was equally awful and pointless, perhaps worse because it was before 7 a.m. and the workers were grumpy. This is the difference between a country that fights terror and a country that doesn't, I suppose.

Now CNN is telling me how to tell if my moles are cancerous (because Laura Bush's skin cancer is worth reporting every 30 minutes), and there's a report about the safety issues associated with small cars (with no mention of the fact that this isn't the case in most countries where people don't insist on driving SUVs everywhere, regardless of passenger or towing needs).

I'm hoping the Bay Area will be more sensible.

Things Remembered

If you are from Rio, even during your busiest days you will have time for a weekly soccer game. The weekend isn't the weekend without an hour or so lying on the sand. You never have exact change for bus fare because there is a person onboard to handle the transaction. You rarely push elevator buttons, but always have someone to make conversation with as you are taken up or down.

It's not a perfect place, this city. It has more than it's share of poverty. On it's outskirts, there exist some of the largest slums in the world, created haphazardly and only vaguely under government control. There are crime, drugs, unemployment, all the usual societal plagues. There are, as I've unhappily experienced, cockroaches.

But I'm dreading leaving it. Since December 1, the thought of my departure has remained stubbornly in the back of my mind. Each night, I try to put off sleeping, wishing the day won't end.

It's not that I don't want to return home. I do; it will be nice to see everyone, and the thought of Christmas doesn't quite make sense in this climate. But there are other things to return to as well - jobs to apply to, stability to seek - regular adult-type things that I should have been doing two months ago but somehow managed to avoid for just a little longer.

And perhaps it's not the "adult" nature that frightens me so much as the American-ness of it all. As a nation, we're not known for living balanced lifestyles. We are fat; we are workaholics; we don't have free healthcare. Fast food is cheap; organic fruit the exception. I've gotten used to skirts and sandals every day, and freshly-squeezed juice at every corner. I'm going to miss the man who sells us our grapefruit and guavas.

Hot Hot Heat

On a sunny weekday in Rio de Janeiro, the beach is dotted with parasols and sarongs, and beachgoers clad in bikinis or speedos lie under and on them, respectively. There are vendors who roam the beach, selling biscuits, beer, juices, and ice cream, and you will see the occasional man selling fresh sugar cane or freshly roasted cubes of cheese. Between the sand and the street, there are stands selling coconut milk and other drinks, and on Sundays, one side of the street is closed to allow for bicyclists and joggers and everyone else who is out. The beach is marked off every few blocks by post numbers. Post 9 is supposedly the hippest section; on most summer days, there's the smell of pot in the air to prove it.

There haven't been enough sunny days while I've been at Rio; I don't think there could ever be enough, but I think that we've been especially unlucky. Last week was all rain and wetness, and humidity that made my hair fairly unmanageable.

This weekend, however, the sun managed to come out, and so did the rest of Rio. We went to the beach, fully lathered in sunscreen, and lay on our sarong, reading Ulysses and occasionally venturing into the water. The waves were high this weekend, frighteningly so for me. Even when I stood at the edge of the water, the undercurrent pulled at my legs and the sand swirled rapidly under my feet, a shifting ground. There were surfers about 15 feet in, and the waves came in such quick succession and with such force that I didn't have the courage to go in past my waist. The locals, on the other hand, know how to handle such situations. They'll approach the water and as the wave is about to crash down, will drop sideways into the water, letting the wave pass over them to avoid the otherwise crushing weight. They always seem calm, never accidentally swallowing the water or gasping for air. I don't know if such is an acquirable skill at this point, or if it requires a childhood spent near the ocean.

Unfortunately, even it were possible, I don't think I have enough time left to learn.

On Not Being a Tourist

If you've seen City of God, then you've seen Rio - but you haven't, because a foreigner will watch that and perhaps draw scary conclusions about drug lords and gang wars in Rio, but a Carioca will watch that and tell you that you're unlikely to find that on even your most adventurous of tourist explorations. City of God takes place in a favela, and favelas are not something advertised on postcards.

Like most big cities, Rio is an expensive place to live but offers a number of job opportunities, particularly low-wage, service jobs which are generally filled by less-educated people, precisely those who are unable to afford housing in said city. The 'solution' to this is the favela, the slums, which are precariously-built towns built into the mountainsides, often without government authorization or regulation. The grow haphazardly, architecturally amazing in that so many people are crowded into such minimal, steep space.

Again, in most big cities these low-income areas are where drug-dealing and crime most often occurs - Rio is no exception. The favelas have historically been outside the realm of government and instead under the control of drug lords. Of course, while this isn't the ideal situation, violence only occurs when two drug lords are fighting for the control of a particular space, or when the police come into the favela and have a shootout with a gang.

The place where I'm working does a lot of work and research in favelas, since these are the areas of Rio where their work is most needed and has the most impact. In particular, they work with a group of young people from various favelas to create campaigns against violence, AIDS, etc.

Today, I had the chance to accompany V. to Santa Marta, one such favela. She had a meeting with some of the young people (the youngest there was 16, the oldest was 25) regarding an event they have this weekend to raise awareness about AIDS and violence against women. Moreover, a journalist, Natalia, and a photographer, Jonas, from Extra came along to interview V. and the others.

Santa Marta is a favela in Botafogo, a fairly nice part of Rio and home of the C&A at which I purchased my first bikini and Raj purchased his first pair of speedos. The entrance to Santa Marta is a few blocks from the Metro, pressed up against the mountainside. The closeness of the mountain was surprising when we were at the bottom, and is manifested in the way the favela is structured - after entering, we almost immediately began to climb a steep set of stairs, with buildings crammed in on either side. Everything felt extremely narrow and cramped, and there were bundles of electrical wires hanging over the steps, going off in every direction to supply people with power.

The climb to the top felt long, particularly because it's been extremely humid lately and I've been sick since Monday night. I talked a bit with Jonas on the way up, and he was very friendly and encouraging about my Portuguese (and also apparently has a relative in San Francisco, who I have never met).

The place where we met was the community hub, a small, three-room building that was built by P. when they did their community supports project a few years ago. It was nice to see something that I had read about, as it gave the project a sense of reality that it had not had.

It was also nice that I happened to go on the same day as the interview, as it gave me the opportunity to listen in on a conversation which I kind of understood (since I am familiar with the work the youth do, and the format of an interview is fairly predictable). For all of you who read Extra, look for the article in the paper this Sunday.

Metro Observations

They say that Cariocas are some of the nicest people in the world, that Rio is one of the friendliest cities in the world. It's probably true. When you ride the metro or the bus, older people rarely remain standing for long - someone usually offers their seat, in stark contrast to what Lisa and I saw this summer in Europe and, especially, what I've witnessed in New York on various occasions.

On the ride home today, there was an old man, wearing a blue shirt and denim jeans, held up by suspenders. I've never seen suspenders put to such purposeful use, where the wearers pants actually would fall off if not for them. They were a pair of denim jeans that looked original, historical, perhaps one of the first pairs of jeans ever to be made. He reminded me of perhaps a farmer, a wanderer during those Dust Bowl days in the 1930s. No one got up to give him a seat, though. It was around 5 p.m., during rush hour, but still. I was a bit disheartened. He looked like he needed a seat.

Sightings

We went to Barra this past weekend - its a place close to here, a bit more suburban, known for it's beautiful beaches. So, yes, indeed, I have finally swum in Rio. The weather is generally better, although I haven't had an opportunity to swim again this week. I did buy a bikini, though, so that I don't look like a tourist. We'll see if I have the guts to wear it.

The other day when walking home, we spotted a little dog wearing four little leather slippers. Apparently the streets here require one to have foot protection. Funny that the dogs are wearing shoes but the people are wearing sandals.

We've been eating farmers market eggs, and about 90% of them seem to have two yolks. Does that mean healthy chickens will have twins or that farmers who sell at those markets are feeding their animals fertility drugs? Hm.

We're All Naked Underneath Our Clothes

I spend at least two hours on the bus/metro every day. Today was longer because of a traffic jam on Rua Atlântica, which made the commute take an extra 30 minutes. It affords me a lot of time for idle introspection and people-watching, and occasionally reading, if I feel the need to compete with the bumpiness.

You see yourself a lot on the subway - catch yourself in reflections whenever you pass through dark tunnels. I caught myself staring at myself today on the way home. I couldn't help but notice my outfit (black shirt, brown capris) and wonder what would happen if I rode the subway in a bikini. How many times would it take before I stopped feeling naked and self-conscious? Men here jog in speedos, you know. They manage to create pseudo-pockets where I thought none could exist, and somehow carry their cell phone and keys while jogging along. They also walk around, ride the bus, and go grocery shopping in speedos, on a related note. And the weather is picking up, so I suppose I'll see even more of this.

I'm beginning to feel anxious. In two days, I'll have only a month left here. I know I'm the one who planned on coming back in December, and surely I'll be able to find a job somewhere, but change, as always, scares me. You'd think I'd be getting used to it, and maybe I am, but it's a nice place, Rio, and I wouldn't mind staying longer, and more than anything right now I think I just need to put down some roots and stand a little still. Standing still on the subway everyday is useless if the rest of my life is spent running around.

Corcovado e Christo

We went up to Corcovado yesterday. Corcovado is the place where the huge art deco Christ statue is. It's at the top of a mountain and visible from many places in Rio, e.g. when you step outside of the apartment building or from the botanical gardens. I've gotten used to Christ being a small hazy figure that I can cover up with my thumb, but up close the statue is quite large. (If I was actually good with numbers I could estimate the height, but I can't, so if you're interested, just google "christ statue" and "Rio de Janeiro" and you'll probably get all your questions answered.) The statue struck me more as a piece of artwork and a tourist trap than a piece of religion, though. Funny. I wonder what the designer meant it to be.

The view from up there is breathtaking - you can see the whole city, or at least most of it, and you can see the expanse of the Tijuca National Forest as well. It was a cloudy when we were there, and the wind was blowing the clouds around like smoke. It reminded me of a few walks up to Lawerence Berkeley National Hall of Science. (Although I suppose when you do your undergrad at Cal, your heart looks for it everywhere.) We took some pictures here, too, which I also will post eventually. Bear with me; not having internet at home makes things more complicated, and I’m bad enough at pictures as it is.

Have Your Cake and Eat It Too

Today (technically, yesterday) was a day for parties. We did little else but eat, sleep, and socialize. (Well, I had to use the bathroom a lot due to some stomach issues, but maybe that was too much/extraneous information.)

In the afternoon, we attended a lunch birthday party of someone from P. Her husband is in culinary school, so the food was all excellent. It's nice to see coworkers outside of the office, and it was good for Raj to meet them so he could match names to faces. In addition to a wonderful lunch, there were two desserts available - a brownie cake concoction with ice cream and a strawberry chocolate cake. I ended up eating the former and not the latter, although they both looked delicious. Also at this party we ended up stumbling across this golden nugget of information that Keren is going to love - apparently Brazilians are very into something called videoke. That is, it's like karaoke, but there's a video playing in the background for, I imagine, a more rock star like effect? Some of my coworkers want to take me. I have the feeling this could end up tragically embarrassing, but also probably quite fun.

This evening we went to the going away party of one of Raj's friends from I. As we were walking from the car, there ended up being an impromptu capoeira performance on the street - a few guys with instruments started playing, and the others started doing all these crazy stunts. We got a few blurry, poorly lit pictures which I will post soon, I swear. Anyway, it's always funny going to these math crowd parties, especially being the half-mathematician that I am. Things are much better now that I have some sort of daily job-like occupation, though. There was actually non-awkward small talk to be made with people I didn't know. Dessert-wise, there ended up being chocolate cake and a pineapple cake, and then there was chocolate mousse - all of these were handed to me, so I didn't have too much of a choice of whether or not I was going to eat it. Jesus. By the time I was given the mousse, I could only manage one bite, despite all the starving people that surely suffered because of my food-wasting. And we started the day with strawberry pancakes with ice cream! Too much sweet, especially bad since you can only wear bikinis on Rio beaches.

On the way to and from the party, we were driving along the beach. The waves were huge tonight - watching them crash onto the shore with the white foam and the black sky was beautiful and mildly terrifying, even though I think to most Cariocas it's nothing special. As much as I love Michael Stipe, I don't think I'll ever be brave enough to swim in the ocean at night. (Ten points for anyone who understands that reference.)

Now Raj is watching Chappelle Show, and I'm going to go to sleep. Seriously, what is with men? Why do all of them seem find this show so hilarious? Ridiculous.

Summer Nights

I wore jeans and a three-quarter sleeve shirt today. And shoes, with socks. I rarely did this in California; it's baffling that at summertime in Rio the weather seems to be demanding it. I'm hoping that there will at least be a few good beach-friendy weeks before I leave, and at the very least some warm summer nights. Going out in the evening is best when you can walk around in skirts and flipflops and the air hugs you in a comfortable sort of way, the kinds of Chicago nights in which we used to play Ghost in the Graveyard and other such games.

Because I Already Spend So Much Money on Their Products

It's raining outside. I'm sitting on R's desk at I., so I suppose this is the closest I've ever been to being in a rain forest. Hopefully it doesn't lead to any crazy bugs coming in in search of a drier place. I'm also hoping the walk home isn't too bad.

I'm (finally) beginning to feel settled into Rio, only one month before I have to leave. I think the Portuguese is picking up slowly, and I've been good about reading and doing the audio lessons regularly. We went to the farmer's market yesterday morning before work. It was a good experience, language-wise, and it was also nice to see so much fresh fruit and vegetables and food. We bought spices and some produce.

Work is going well. I really like P., not only because of the work they do but also because of the way the organization is run. It seems to be a place where everyone gets along and respects on another, and they are efficient without being unhealthy. I hope I can find a similar place to work when I return. If only Aveda could find some use for me.

Back.

I once read that anyone who wants to have a successful blog (and here I suppose successful means widely read) must update regularly. If that's the case, then I think I've failed. Alas. The internet situation was a bit complicated these past week or so; hopefully I'll be a bit more consistent again.

Some good news is that I've finally started working. It feels nice to be productive again. It feels even nicer to be learning new things, and meeting new people, and seeing more of Brazil.

The place that I'm working at (hereafter referred to as P.) is an NGO based in Rio de Janeiro. They do a wide range of things. They're best known for their work with young men to prevent violence and promote gender equality, but they've expanded into programs for women empowerment, promoting the acceptance of sexual diversity, promoting children's rights. Lots of stuff done through various campaigns, such as no-words videos or training manuals to lead workshops to educate people and to promote critical reflection about stereotypes and issues in their lives.

My role so far is to work on English content and/or editing of the website, of various training manuals, and of a toolkit that they're putting together for the UN. The nice thing about this organization is that they do a lot of local work, but they also do a lot of international work. So, for example, the work that they did with young men has been adapted in India, and I can look at a book with Hindi cartoons, and pretty soon (although probably after I leave), they'll have a similar Tamil version.

I've been learning a lot through this. It seems to be a great blend of academics and hands-on applications. Who knows, maybe it will lead me to do a public health degree. If you want the name of the organization, let me know and I'll email it to you. I'm trying to keep this blog as anonymous as possible.

I began working last Monday. Thursday was a national holiday, so it was a short week, and a long four day weekend. Raj got sick on Wednesday, though, so a couple of those days were spent at home, hoping he felt better and wondering whether he needed to see a doctor.

On Saturday evening, we went to see a Brazilian guitarist named Guigno. It was an instrumental set that lasted for a little over an hour, the main guitarist accompanied by another and by a clarinet player. It was so beautiful. It made me really miss my oboe, and it made me really appreciative for the chance to have been a musician in my past, and potentially to become a musician again in my future. Once I get back and start working (and live in a city for more than two months), hopefully I can start taking lessons again.

After the concert, we walked a bit around Lapa, the 'happening' part of Rio. Lapa is a place where the streets are always crowded at night, shared by families, young people, and prostitutes, and everyone kind of blends in happily and minds their own business. Henriqué showed us a really cool bar/lounge/restaurant - it's an old antique store, and it has three different floors, each with tons of different rooms and nooks to sit, drink, eat, and chat. On the bottom floor there's a band and people dancing (samba? salsa? some sort of dance that Leyla can probably do, and I definitely can't, and that one day I may take classes in), and the two floors above have balconies overlooking it so that you can watch. It's a crazy, wonderful atmosphere - very lively, and happy, and extremely kitschy, what with the display of chairs on the ceiling or typewriters by the stairs. I've never been anywhere like it before. We only stayed for a few minutes to check it out, but hopefully we'll go back sometime.

My Portuguese is perhaps slowly improving. I haven't been focused enough on Pimsleur, or Portuguese for Dummies, or Teach Yourself Portuguese, but I go to lunch everyday with some people from work, and the conversation is generally in Portuguese, so that's a good impetus to learn. I've found that if I focus, I can pick up anywhere from 20 to 35% of what's being said, but after I've eaten a bit and start to get a little sleepy, it's easy to fall into my own thoughts and tune it out. Everyone is quite nice, though, and speaks in English when they do talk to me, but I do feel like I should try to use Portuguese whenever I can since I am in Brazil. Sometimes it's just so embarrassing to be an American, what with our monolingualism (as a nation, not just me personally) and our limited knowledge of any world events or history not directly pertaining to us or our European roots. I think most people at P. are at least bilingual, and generally trilingual. It's quite impressive.

Untitled

Work situation seems to have changed, or at least to not be what I thought it was, but I will be going to I.P. on Monday to hopefully start work. I think my internet access is going to be limited to about once a week or so from now on; we'll see what happens with that.

Last night we went to a Middle Eastern bar/restaurant. It was in front of the lake, with outdoor seating overlooking the water. I had my first authentic caipirinha - much stronger than I had been making them in Berkeley, but quite good. There was a guitarist from another restaurant playing Pink Floyd and the Beatles. It made for a nice atmosphere, until the live music from our restaurant started competing with it.

We walked through a farmers market today on the way to I. So much fresh fruit, spices, peppers, and fish! It made me not want to eat shrimp, though. Cockroaches of the sea, apparently. We have to plan better in order to purchase our produce there from now on. Oh, I failed to mention earlier that the avocados here are the size of canteloupes. Yum, yum.

We saw one of the apartment maintenance men wearing a gas mask sort of thing, today, so I imagine they are doing more fumigating. It's good, I imagine, but I think I'll avoid going back today without Raj.

I forgot to mention

The other day, when walking home, the sun, and consequently, the turtles were out. The turtles were sunning themselves in their pond. On one stone, two turtles sat contentedly and a third was stubbornly trying (and somewhat attempting) to crawl up on their backs, as if there was nowhere else to sun himself. It made for quite an interesting variation to the usual human pyramid. The tourists were going crazy with their cameras; I wish I had had one.

I also missed a chance to take photos of monkeys in the botanical gardens. One onlooker was brave enough to feed them, for the sake of his photo collection, and a good 5 or 7 monkeys rushed down towards him to get the food. It's interesting to be living in a tropical place.

Rainy Days and a Cockroach Exodus

The weather in Rio has not been as ideal as you all might expect. Apparently, we managed to catch the end of winter, so last week was rather rainy and in the 60s. Much like a Berkeley winter, actually, although it's not quite as cold outside, and many people are still wearing shorts and flipflops.

Last Friday, I spent a good deal of time walking around. I went to the beach. Due to the weather, it felt deserted, apart from a few small groups of people. There were 7 surfers in the water, trying to navigate the waves. It looked quite cold.

The weekend was not so uneventful. We went to the Sugar Loaf, climbed a bit up to take in the view. I was exhausted - the climb is through a makeshift path in the woods. There are lots of people doing it; not quite sure how exactly.. Brazilians are all apparently in better shape than me. We forgot the camera, though, so aerial pictures will have to come from some other source.

I called C. at the Rio S. yesterday. We're supposed to have lunch on Wednesday. Hopefully I will become useful and occupied sometime soon. Not having work doesn't suit me. These past two weeks I felt a bit like Scarlett Johansson in Lost in Translation, though I did not sit around in my underwear or have an emotional affair with an older, washed-up actor. So I guess not quite like that.

Yesterday, after using the wireless at I., I attempted to return to the apartment only to find that they had apparently fumigated (or done something to that degree). I noticed some half-dead cockroaches as I was walking up the drive into the garage, and then noticed about ten or fifteen cockroaches, some alive, some dead, as I was walking towards the stairs up to the first floor. I was too grossed out to keep on going, and I was turning around to leave I noticed that there were cockroaches all over the garage. I was thoroughly disgusted, as one can imagine, and left quickly to go sit in a cafe. I only went back when Raj came and got me. It's a good thing I didn't try going up the stairs, as there were about 20 or so dead cockroaches in the hallway leading to our door, and I imagine more of them would have been alive when I was there earlier. We surmised that they fumigated the building, in particular, the trash area, so the cockroaches probably all ran out en masse. There were so many in the hallway because there's a trash chute there; the areas surrounding trash chutes on all the floors were probably similarly disgusting. Anyway, pictures to follow. In truth, this has probably made the apartment cleaner and my fear of running into a cockroach should go down due to the fumigation, but I don't think I have the courage or desire to be alone there this week. The memories are still too vivid.

I'm Not Really Unemployed, Am I?

Today Raj went to I. for his first real day of work and to take care of some administrative things. I tagged along to take advantage of the internet and to get some exercise. The walk up to I. takes about 40 minutes from the apartment, but part of the walk is through Rio's botanical gardens. Along the way we saw a turtle pond, with 7 or 8 turtles swimming about or sunning themselves. They were interesting, with rusty-metallic shells and a couple of red stripes along their heads and necks. One looked so perfect that we thought it was a statue until we saw it move its head a bit. At one point in the garden, one can clearly see the statue of Christ for which Rio is so famous, framed by palm trees. It appears quite far away, but apparently it's a doable hike that we might try one of these days. In the evening, the statue is lit up and is quite striking against the dusk sky.

The walk up to I. is quite a trek that involves a lot of sweating and generally feeling disgusting. I was dripping for a good ten minutes after arrival, despite wearing a tank top and drinking cold water. I had been planning on growing my hair out, but the heat makes my high school lengths seem attractive. Raj will be in good shape by the time his fellowship is over.

I had planned to leave after using the internet, but that ended up taking longer than expected, so then I just waited for Raj. I got to spend some time with his new officemate, V., an interesting fellow from France who is quite friendly and talkative despite being a bit awkward. Upon first seeing him, he spent a good two or three minutes insisting that H., Raj's acquaintance from Berkeley and professor with whom he will be working at I., has an American accent. This despite the fact that H. is Brazilian. V. then insisted that H. had a more American accent than either Raj or me.

The Portuguese knowledge is increasing, albeit slowly. I spent a decent portion of today reading my Teach Yourself Portuguese book, and tomorrow we'll attend our first language class. (Free, two days a week at I. Quite convenient, although I don't know if I'll be able to continue after I start work.)

It's funny going along with Raj as he settles into his new professional life at I. I am always introduced, but as I am neither a wife nor a mathematician, perhaps people are not quite sure exactly who I am when they first meet me. I'm constantly afraid of the looming "So what do you do?", at which point I will have to admit that I actually currently do very little. There is the bachelors in mathematics from Berkeley, of course, but I think in a certain sense that makes it worse - being as these are all mathematicians, there is then the feeling that we should have something to talk about, although in reality a bachelors and a postgraduate degree in math are worlds apart. Had I majored in something completely different, there is at least the possibility of asking generic questions due to their unfamiliarity with the subject, but alas, such meaningless small talk is impossible in this situation. I am contemplating creating a fictional career and/or talent for myself, i.e. that I am a writer, and then I can act very mysterious and pretend that all of my observations are actually for work purposes, that is, to reproduce the situations later in the great stories I produce. Of course, I do reproduce them here, but this is hardly a livelihood. In any case, I will meet with C. next week and hopefully my two(or six)-month professional life will be sorted out then.

Not to Mention the Heat..

Rio reminds me of India. It has an unpolished, urban feel, with shops lining the corners and people peddling various goods that we have no use for. There's coconut water readily available and a beach just a few blocks away. The traffic is not so unruly, though, and people seem to come in all shapes and sizes, so I don't stand out as a tourist, at least physically.

Not many people speak English here, and Raj and I have been somehow getting by with our Pimsleur method knowledge of the language. He's about 30 lessons ahead of me, though; I have a lot of catching up to do. Apparently, I. has free classes for French, Portuguese, and English, so that will be helpful.

The apartment we're staying in is a nice two-bedroom with a kitchen, bathroom, living area, and laundry room. (Free laundry, quite a perk.) It's been generally good, except for the occasional monstrous cockroach. Since Raj does all the killing, it's really not much work for me, but it does mean that I tiptoe carefully around the apartment and do not get into bed without shaking everything out. I think I'll only sleep peacefully once I have a mosquito net installed.

Lady, Taxi!

We've arrived in Rio, currently at I. awaiting Raj's paperwork and eventually making it to the apartment we'll be staying in. The flight seemed to take longer than the stated time (about 8 hours), maybe because I'm just crazy and would keep waking, half-asleep, semi-nauseous and generally uncomfortable. I'm not sure why. I hope I'm not coming down on anything; that would be absolutely awful timing.

There was a driver from I. waiting to pick us up at the airport which has made this whole thing much easier. Not quite sure how I would have handled the insistent assertions that "lady" needed a taxi otherwise.

Something About Airplanes

7:45 a.m. PDT
I'm sitting at the gate, waiting for boarding to start. Check-in was mildly uneventful; the lines were confusing and at security I was held up because of a CK One-shaped eraser, but otherwise, things have gone smoothly and there are unlikely to be any delays.

There's a list flashing in front of me of customers waiting to upgrade to first class. It was about three people when I got here 20 minutes ago, but it's grown to about 15.

When Lisa and I were in Europe, there were two men, obviously rich, extremely fashionable. We imagined them to be lovers; one was American, the other European, and they seemed to be on some glamorous vacation. We saw them a few times, but the first time was at the American Express, where they were waiting to make reservations of some sort. Apparently there were some issues, but they were resolved, the European coming back to tell the American that "They didn't have first class, but it's okay because we got better than first class!" Better than first class! Who knew?

Will I ever be one of those people? Probably not. Al Gore encourages people to fly economy. It's more fuel efficient, you know.

11:25 a.m. PDT, although I'm near Greens Ferry Lake in Arkansas right now, so maybe I should switch to EDT?
Just finished watching The Devil Wears Prada, and I liked it in a way I didn't expect. It was surprisingly fitting for the state my life is currently in (career crisis, selling one's soul to get ahead), although in the movies, enviably, the resolution comes much more quickly. Alas, I'm still looking.

Counting my upcoming landing in Brazil, I will have been in six countries since June including America). I think I've become immune to the 'moving' part of traveling. I didn't actually notice when we took off because I was too engrossed in a magazine (thanks, Appa), and the past three hours have gone by rather quickly. I'm a bit perplexed by time zones, though. Apparently we're arriving in about 45 minutes, but I thought we were scheduled to arrive around 4 p.m. EST. Are we that ahead of schedule?