Sacromonte, holy indeed

Sacromonte, the Sacred Mountain, looms over Granada and is home to an ancient abbey (and even more ancient caves). From the center of Granada one can walk up to the abbey, but for our first visit and very educational tour, we took a city bus. Naturally, as we ascended the mountain, the roads became narrow switchbacks, to the great joy of my fellow American bus riders. Sure, the bus was crammed a little past full capacity and we slid often on the gravel roads, but hey, we made it up.

We made this trek on Sunday, one of the first non-rainy days in Granada. Immediately after disembarking from our dear bus, we all stopped short, which caused problems all around. 1. At least ten more people needed to free themselves from the bus, including Spaniard (non-tourists, poor souls) passengers. 2. We also managed to block the rest of the road, and cars were trying to book it back down the mountain. Oops. Unfortunately, a typical American moment, to the world’s frustration. Anyways, why the sudden stop? The view, quite naturally! From Sacromonte, one could easily see the idyllic snow-capped mountains of the Sierra Nevada. In the valleys leading up to Sacromonte, small houses and neatly kept plots of land closely followed a few rivers. To the right, on the other hand (pun moderately intended), was the Alhambra palace, a massive fortress situated atop one of the mountains by Granada. This palace is the most frequently visited site in Spain. I cannot seem to remember the exact number of people who visit it each day, but it is certainly an exhausting number. Past the Alhambra, was Granada, and further right, the Arab neighborhood of the Albayzin, which originates in Granada and crawls up the mountain of Sacromonte. In any event, the view was overwhelming and spectacular and basically a painting.

Finally, our guides successfully corralled us all up into the grounds of the abbey. Orange walls with dirty bases comprised the abbey along with roofs of typical Mediterranean-style tile. Windows with decorative wrought iron balconies completed the almost sanitarium-esque look that the entrance took on. The abbey, which had turrets topped with stone crosses, too, could not have been more beautiful and eerie. Dilapidated but sacred.

Upon entering, though, the abbey became a well-kept, bright courtyard, complete with intricate pebble mosaic floors and a grand fountain. Orange trees, which can be found most anywhere, encircled (ensquared, if it were a word, would be so much more fitting) the courtyard, along with the occasional kumquat plant (they looked almost ready for harvesting!). Also, in the covered portion of the courtyard rested a parade float, adorned in dark purple velour and topped with the crucifix. Apparently, Granada has one of the larger Easter celebrations; during Holy Week leading up to Easter, processions carry the cross up Sacromonte, during both the day and night. The morning before our tour of the abbey, preparations and rehearsals had begun for the Holy Week festivities.

Inside the abbey, we were educated on the property’s religious and cultural history (all in Spanish). Most interestingly, we visited the caves that lie underneath the abbey. The mountains surrounding Granada are famous for their caves, as people today still inhabit them (and even rent them out for tourists! Hmm…). The caves of Sacromonte, though, hold alters and rooms in which to worship or seek refuge.

Returning to Granada from the abbey was just as lovely as our first views from Sacromonte. Instead of the bus, we walked back down; the sun was in the process of setting behind the Alhambra palace. Our journey took us through the Albayzin neighborhood, which is built into Sacromonte (some of the homes are partially caves). Absolutely every building is painted white, and the feel of the Middle East truly pervades the streets. Tea shops, lanterns, and colorful textiles slowly consume the streets as one nears the base of the mountain. I cannot wait to spend more time in this neighborhood, with its rich Arab culture and Moorish architecture. Thus is my favorite aspect of Granada so far, easily. The combination of Middle Eastern and European (both medieval and modern) is perfect – the many eras and cultures flow together seamlessly.

Ronda

Good afternoon/morning/evening, depending on your location! Yesterday, Saturday, we went on a day-long excursion to a most spectacular city, Ronda. Located just two hours west of Granada, Ronda is an ancient city built atop a steep mountain, which is divided up by vegetation-covered gorges; light bluish-green water flows through these massive crevices. Connecting the various sectors of Ronda are towering stone bridges, which Ronda is the known for more than anything else. The bridges are in every sense breathtaking. The light-colored stone is perfect in contrast with the vibrant plants that cascade down the gorges. The variety of plants, too, was equally impressive. Fir trees lined the top of the gorge, intermixed with palm trees and small shrubbery. Moss, vines, and cacti consumed the gorge itself. My descriptions certainly cannot come close to explaining this magnificent place, so take a look at a few pictures (which also fail to do Ronda the justice it deserves... but this will have to suffice).

Bridge! Big bridge!



The city of Ronda was a mix of modern, classic Europe, and ancient times. In many of the city plazas, frozen yogurt shops could be spotted, while just outside cobblestone roads surrounded large metal fountains. The roads were even narrower than in Granada, and they cut up and down the sides of the mountain. Homes, palaces, and churches were built on the mountain's edges -- cliff-dwelling at it's finest. From these dwellings the view was beautiful (obviously). Surrounding Ronda is countryside, rivers, and mountains in the distance. The land was plowed and covered in short grass or olive trees. Small cottages were scattered about, usually beside the rivers flowing from Ronda. The surrounding mountains were quite similar to Ronda's, as the rocks were lightly colored and small notches of caves could be spotted, after staring for a good bit, of course.



Ronda, like the entire Andalucía region of Spain, was once ruled by Arabs, greatly influencing the architecture and culture. In Granada, many of today's churches are actually ancient mosques with a bell tower installed on top. In Ronda, remnants of the Arab conquest were evident in the small palaces (now museums), as the walls are covered in mosaic tiles, the courtyards have tall arches and columns, and doorways are curved with a point at the top. Also, on the edge of the mountain Ronda houses several Arab baths, which are made of dark stone and have small decorative stars cut out of the ceiling. Each bath had several rooms, one for steaming, one for relaxing at a medium temperature, and one for cooling off.

 

In addition to the bridges, Ronda is extremely well-known for its bull ring. Huge, round, and painted all white, the exterior definitely does not give any indication as to the majesty of its contents. Inside, the ring is massive and covered in orange sand. Several tiers of seats encompass the ring. Each bleacher has seat number painted on in a decorative fashion (each number is within a blue and red square). The bleachers are supported by Moorish columns, too, and painted white. Picture time!

 

After our tour, we had free time to just wander about. It's hard to get lost in Ronda -- if all else fails, just walk up, and eventually you will hit the main square and bull ring. For lunch, my group decided to forego real food and instead splurge on churros con chocolate, which are as delicious as the sound. The churros here are simply thin rings of fried dough which diners then dip in cups of warm, melted chocolate. Yummy indeed.

 

The bus trip across the countryside back to Granada is beautiful, and looks almost like pictures U have seen of Ireland. This trip really took it out of me, so I slept most of the way back. I did manage to wake up in time to see the moon (which looked just about full) rising above a stone-covered mountain. The moon was yellow, and the craters were exceptionally visible. Beautiful.

Arrival... and all preceding events

Buenos tardes from Granada! This report is brought to you via a very sleepy Rachel, so a little patience on the reader's behalf might be required. She currently sits bundled up in sweatshirts, gloves, and thick socks, all the while still under her bed's blankets. Essentially, night has successfully fallen, and Rachel is happily combating the frigid indoor temperatures with a good 'ole fashioned cocoon.

After some fairly lengthy layovers, airport explorations (Chicago O'Hare has a lovely indoor, vertical botanical garden), new acquaintances, and micro-naps during flights, Granada was finally reached. A beautiful moment indeed, and not just from the relief of the long-anticipated arrival. As we drove out from the airport, one was immediately presented with a full and oh so complete rainbow. Easily, we could see the points where the colors touched down among the sparse countryside vegetation. Of course, we eventually drove directly underneath said rainbow to reach our new homes. I'll gladly take that as a good sign.

Though the majority of my exposure to Granada thus far is sights seen from car windows, I can say without hesitation that this city is beautiful. Granted, rain and mistiness greeted us, but such conditions only made for even more loveliness. Our residencia, or dorm, is located in the city's center, a busy downtown locale complete with incredibly narrow, stone-laden streets. The wet conditions made for glistening streets and an extra bit of bustle -- people darted from one storefront to the next, hurrying about. The stores, particularly the clothing boutiques, are quite modern, which definitely fits with the population's clear concern for fine apparel. I have yet to see someone not dressed in their finest; chic and clean-cut is the clear trend, but it seems that if the ensemble is fashion-forward, it's acceptable. Granada is on the smaller end, size-wise, but it truly still maintains the larger city feel in the way its people dress and maneuver about.

As for my living arrangements, my roommate and I are up on the fourth floor of the residenica. Our room is comfortable, spacious, and has windows looking out into corridors filled with clotheslines. Our room is off of a decently sized, mirror and stained glass surrounded kitchen, which will no doubt prove to be extra Spanish practice, as the students love hanging out there (smoking, laughing, and singing), and all can be easily heard in our room. Not a problem, though! So far I am enjoying hearing the manner in which they interact. Life in the residencia is looking to be beautiful -- a good mix of Spanish and international students, old wooden doors within the building, and delicious food in the dining room. Lunch was being served when we arrived, to our stomachs' delight. Potato and bean soup, pork kabobs, some sort of pico de gallo, and custard were on today's menu. Lunch is their biggest meal of the day, eaten during the daily siesta (between 2 and 5 pm). Dinner is smaller and commences around 9 pm. The servers in the dining room, just like the Spanish students, are extremely patient and so eager to help out us delirious Americans. The language is far easier to understand than I anticipated, too, as the pace is slower. The notorious Spanish accent, though, will certainly take some getting used to.

In any event, day one of Espana has been nothing short of lovely. Tomorrow will be filled with venturing about the city. Tourist time. My apologies once more for the scattered nature of this report. Those to come will hopefully be slightly less disjointed (though this I cannot completely guarantee...).

Take care, amigos!

[Lastly, fact of the day: while waiting for my flight from Chicago to Madrid, I met a British gentleman who has lived in Spain for upwards twelve years. During our very entertaining conversation, he advised me never to accept an offer to go "olive picking." Apparently, one does not actually "pick" olives, but instead violently beats the olive tree until all olives are on the ground. An exhausting process, said this man, Stefan, and one tree will likely do in an average individual. "Picking" olives does not and will not exist. Noted.]

Confusion and Contrasts.

On Saturday, as we had been planning all week, Miracy and I went to her friend's apartment for lunch. On the way, we stopped at the grocery store for some ice cream (which is divine here... more on the sorbet side, but oh so delicious), and then drove the very short distance (three blocks) to the apartment. It took a bit longer than expected to get there, though, as Miracy's car kept stalling out. When we were actually in motion, the car was shaking ridiculously. That needs to be addressed. 

This apartment complex was super swanky, with a doorman and all. We rode in a mirror-clad elevator up to the second or third floor, where there were more mirrors on the walls. I've found that there is either an over-abundance of mirrors or none at all. I think they are used to reflect wealth (pun intended), in many cases. We rang the doorbell, and the door was flung open within seconds. Standing there was Miracy's friend, looking utterly confused. She and Miracy exchanged a few quick words, and we were invited in. The woman was young, in her forties, and the husband was not so young, in his seventies (Miracy had gone on and on about their marriage before we arrived. A different situation, no doubt). We sat down in their living room, which had a balcony overlooking the city (well, maybe not overlooking, exactly, seeing as we were only a few floors high, but anyways, it was a lovely view). Everything was so white in their apartment: slick white tiled floors, white walls, white curtains, white furniture... ah! bright!). Naturally, everything was also incredibly clean. As we sat and awkwardly talked, the housekeeper scrubbed the floors vigorously, explaining the high level of sanitation. 

Very abruptly, the husband and wife got up, bid us goodbye, and left. I thought they might be running and errand or something, but then I realized that they said, "Nice to meet you!" Plus, upon glancing at the dinner table, I noticed only two places were set for dining. Huh? Finally, after some time of not receiving an explanation, I asked Miracy what was up. Apparently, the couple forgot we were coming over until Miracy called to confirm that morning, and they had already made plans for their daughter to do some modeling work. They arranged for the housekeeper to prepare lunch for just us. I guess they felt bad about the mix up and didn't want to cancel? 

We sat down to lunch, just Miracy and I, and were served by the housekeeper. She brought out the food and poured our drinks. While we eat, she talked to us on and off while continuing her cleaning. The whole situation was simply uncomfortable. 1. We were eating in someone else's house... alone. 2. This sweet woman was serving us like a waitress. Unnecessary! I did not understand why she was not dining with us. Miracy seemed to not think anything of all of this, which I guess makes sense. Before coming here, I was told that most middle class and upper class families still had hired help. Often times, families have someone employed to just cook and someone else to clean, etc. In households without a full-time housekeeper, someone is still hired to clean at least once a week, staying the entire day, even washing clothes. The families cook lunch for the housekeeper sometimes, but it seems like dining together does not happen. Anyways, it is definitely commonplace to live such a lifestyle. I've noticed that in some apartment buildings built in the eighties there are back rooms for live-in help, or I guess at that point in time, servants. 

I know even in the United States, upper class families have servers and cooks, but something about this was different. I think the clear difference in class is what bothered me. This family had far lighter skin than the housekeeper, Ana, which I have found is pretty common. Judging from billboards and t.v. shows, light skin is definitely idealized here, unfortunately. Often times, these people featured on billboards have blond hair, which is not impossible for a Brazilian, given the great amount of Europeans here, but still... the majority is not being represented. 

Miracy's friends were by no means mistreating Ana or acting in a condescending way towards her, but every interaction made me feel uncomfortable, probably because of such cultural differences. As Ana cleared the table, I wanted so badly to help, but insisting upon such would have been inappropriate. Ay, I still don't quite know what to make of the situation. Ana seemed content, but she did mention to us the immense amount of work she does in order to meet her employers' standards (she works in several households during the week). Such a dear woman, though, and full of spirit. I loved listening to her talk about her family, especially her grandchild. Her heart truly lies with her family, which I think is what motivates her to work so hard (her son doesn't work). 

After lunch, we returned to the living room and watched some t.v. Nope, the family had yet to return; 'twas just Miracy and I watching their television. We did step out on the balcony for a bit to see the skyline. In one glance, I could see the skyscrapers in the distance and a flavela, or slum, right next-door. The street beside the apartment complex suddenly changes from paved to bumpy dirt, lined with small, boxy houses. All made of thin building materials and corrugated metal roofs, these homes were so very much the opposite of where I was standing. According to Miracy, with the onset of development in this neighborhood, Boa Viagem (one of the nicer neighborhoods in Recife), people living in flavelas are being pushed out. The government has been creating new homes for them in other locations, and these homes must be of equal or greater value than their old homes. Though these people are being placed in a "better" place, the location might be inconvenient or far from their families. A tough situation, for sure. 

Before leaving, we snuck a peek at the family's parrot. He chatted a little bit with us, but mainly just walked back and forth on his little perch/wooden bar. Man, I felt bad for the little guy. His cage was so small, and he trembled constantly. 

Alright, now that I have inadvertently made this family look heartless, I would like to say that they were actually very kind (in the little time that I interacted with them), and their lifestyle was nothing out of the ordinary for a Brazilian middle class family. I was merely taking it all in, and struggling with the many contradictions and cultural differences. It was an odd afternoon, no question. I never expected to learn so much or even chill alone in someone else's home. Thus is Brazil, though. A constant learning experience, full of the unexpected. Always! 

Craft Fair, of the most grand variety!

Yesterday, Friday, can only be described as odd. For one thing, I was in a sleepy daze for a good portion of the day, making everything seem just a little off. Also, we had many lovely new adventures, but whenever we tried completing our normal activities, nothing seemed to really work out. 

To start the day, Miracy invited Annelise over to join us for a grand lunch. Because we needed to catch the bus by 12:15 pm (it takes at least an hour to get to the university), we planned on eating promptly at 11:00. Come 10:15, though, Miracy was still in her jammies, talking about plans to run out to the grocery store. No big deal, right? At this point, I knew lunch would be late... very late. This woman never leaves the house without dressing her best. Oh, and she still had plans of serving breakfast at this point, before departing for the store! Oh my. 

Of course, breakfast was delicious, but I was stuffed. Even by 11:45 when we sat down to eat, I was still full! Oh well. Lunch was wonderful, though, per usual, as this woman is a master cook. Annelise and I were both glancing at our watches as inconspicuously as possible, so concerned about the time. Miracy had been so kind to cook for us, though, and we were having such great conversation that we could not find it within ourselves to break away from the meal early. Her advice and wisdoms are priceless. 

Naturally, we left for the bus stop at 12:45. Indeed, we were a bit frantic. We could only get to the bus stop so fast, though, as our backpacks were weighing us down with textbooks and notebooks (good thing we weren't still toting around the class set of books!). Once at the bus stop, we waited... for about forty-five minutes. Good grief! The bus usually comes every twenty minutes. Clearly, something was up (in retrospect, I attribute it to Friday the 13th. solid reason). By the time we actually boarded the crowded bus, it was time for class to start. Luckily, one of the students had our number and called, wondering about our whereabouts, so we went ahead and canceled class. Good thing, too, because we made it to the university right around time for our second class to begin. Gosh, I felt so bad. Those students took a good deal of time out of their days to travel for our class, and we completely wasted that time. Plus, we do not have much time left (only two more weeks of classes!), so every minute is important for these guys. 

Class period two was just as productive. None of my students showed up. Granted, this weekend is a holiday of sorts since Monday is Recife's Patron Saint holiday. I had a feeling that attendance would be low, but my goodness. Again, I did what any teacher would do in an empty classroom: pleasure reading time! I found a wonderful collection of novels in English at a nearby bookstore, so I picked up Ray Bradbury's The Illustrated Man, which I highly recommend. Though a novel, the book is a compilation of short stories that have no connection, but share common themes and relate to the overall plot of the book. 

After sitting in the classroom for forty-five minutes, I deemed it appropriate to run out for a computer and bathroom break. Upon returning to the classroom, I found that one of my students had showed up! Really? I didn't quite understand why anyone would come to class over an hour late, but it turns out she planned on going with Annelise, me, and some of the other students to a big craft fair, so she came to the university for that reason. Phew! I was starting to feel bad for leaving the classroom! Either way, I was starting to feel like I couldn't get anything right that day!

Once Annelise finished with her class, we took a bus to a mall, met up with Wellington and his friend, and took a shuttle to the craft fair. An annual event held a Recife's convention center, the fair showcases artisan goods from all over the country. We had no idea just how ginormous this fair would be, by my, it was incredible. First, we visited booths from certain cities in Pernambuco and then from regions in Pernambuco. Later, the booths were from other Brazilian states and finally from other countries (at least seventy countries were represented). I could have easily spent a few days there, as each booth had so much to look at! Woodwork, pottery, woven textiles, and paintings were among the things found there. We breezed through some parts, as Wellington pointed out that we only had a few hours and we would never make it to the end if we looked at every booth (plus, I could tell he was hungry, and the food portion was at the end). I really enjoyed looking at all of the crafts, wishing there was some way to take everything home. Also, my students were able to explain the cultural significance of many sculptures and trinkets, which made the experience even more worthwhile. 

Sure enough, we made it in time to grab a bite to eat, which helped Wellington to be a little less frantic. Also, he introduced us to a man running a German food booth, who is apparently his friend. From what I saw, it didn't look like the man recognized Wellington at first, but eventually the connection was made and introductions ensued. 

We took the shuttle back to the mall where we could catch a bus. As we were getting onto the shuttle, I noticed one of the workers ushering people into the van. I knew him! He had a very distinctive face, and though I could not recall where I knew him from, I very much remembered his kind spirit. Just as he was closing the door, he recognized me, too! He shot me a huge smile, saying what a coincidence it was, and proceeded to close the door. From the window, I could see him enthusiastically related the story to another worker. Clearly, he remembered where we met, but I simply could not figure it out. Later, though, I talked to Wellington, and since he had to take the second shuttle, he heard the guy explain the story. It turns out (and with the little reminder, everything came back to me), back in the beginning of our trip, Annelise and I had been trying to get back from Boa Vista Shopping, a mall that is in a not so great part of town. It was at night, and we still had yet to perfect the bus system. He heard us trying to figure out which bus to take and decided to help us out since he knew a little English. Once he found out where we were headed, he excitedly said that he was going there, too. Immediately, Annelise and I put up a wall, as we feared his possible intentions. Was he truly just going to the same neighborhood, or was he planning on following us, etc.? He stood with us on the bus, but we tried to avoid talking to him. In the end, he got off before us, so our fears were completely unwarranted, but despite our slight coldness he was still friendly and kind to us. Anyways, what a crazy coincidence, seeing him again at the fair, a place swarming with thousands of people. I am constantly amazed by such occurrences. 

Though it took everything in our power to not pass out on the bus and metro rides home, we thoroughly enjoyed the day. A normal day it was not, but I was definitely pleased with how everything turned out. I have definitely learned that everything is a process, and dwelling on the small roadblocks and mishaps is unnecessary. Still, I hate that I missed my first class, but all one can do is move on! 

More to come tomorrow! I am too sleepy to relate today's events, so until tomorrow! Thank you for reading, and many blessings!

Porto de Galinhas (and some other interesting tales)

Before coming to Brazil, I was told by many Brazilian friends of mine that Sunday was the day for beach-going. So far, we had not ventured to the beach very much, only a few times. Each trip was just beautiful, though, and pretty breathtaking. This past Sunday, we headed a little ways south to Porto de Galinhas (Port of Chickens) for a most spectacular beach experience. 

Our traveling troupe included Annelise, Wellington, Criz (a friend of Wellington's), Tiberio (our friend from the American Consulate), and me. Tiberio kindly drove us, chatting the entire way about his personal interests and hobbies. The man is incredible. Working for the consulate as the officer of relations between the state of Pernambuco and the state of Georgia, he works to strengthen international ties and promotes non-profit work. It was evident very early on that this man has a huge heart. 

Upon arriving, we were greeted by gorgeous blue waters, natural pools, and chickens galore. Many sites say that Porto de Galinhas could easily be one of the most beautiful beaches in Brazil, and this I do not doubt. Dark reefs were emerging from the water, and children were climbing all over them. Small boats of all kinds were floating in the water, waiting for tourists wanting a ride. The initial beachfront was covered with plastic tables and umbrellas, packed with people. 

First view of Porto de Galinhas! 

We decided to walk along the water to a less crowded area down the beach. As we walked, we delved more into Tiberio's interests, especially Latin American societies. He possesses so much knowledge of Latin America, as he has been to most every country in that region. I think the most interesting observation of his was that of the Colombian national pride. He is most drawn to Colombia because the citizens, despite the extreme societal issues that they must overcome, are so proud of their country and are going to great lengths to improve their communities. 

Eventually, we came to another beach that was far more tranquil and known for it's surfers. We parked it at a small restaurant and ordered some coconut water, which was definitely the best I have had so far. Cool and not too sweet. 'Twas perfection. My, I am certainly going to miss coconut water when I return home. We buy these coconuts everywhere (any and all street corners have a stand selling them) and the water is so filling. Plus, once you finish the coconut, the vendors will slice it open and cut off a piece of the outside husk/shell. Open it up, use cut slice as a spoon, and dine on the coconut meat! Such a wonderful snack. 

Anyways, returning to the beach trip, we also had a light lunch and finished just as a major storm came through. The sky became oh so dark, which was beautiful in contrast with the ocean. We sought shelter inside the actual restaurant, and while we were waiting for the rain to stop we met a most interesting man named Victor. He heard us speaking English and eagerly jumped into the conversation. In his fifties or sixties, Victor was from Mozambique, but spent time in the United States and Europe, explaining his impeccable English. He dove right into a dense discussion of foreign policy. He also related to us some interesting stories about his time in the military and his travels around Europe (we are now among the privileged who know every detail of his Hepatitis in the Netherlands experience). 

After exchanging Skype information with Victor, we caught a shuttle bus back to the village of Porto de Galinhas. The village was simply precious. The streets were made of dark cobblestone and little tourist shops were everywhere. Plus, if this place wasn't wonderful enough already, there were giant chicken sculptures everywhere. From any point one could turn and see a chicken, most of which were decorated and painting very artistically. I was in heaven. 

We poked our heads in stores and made our way to the beach front, which had cleared out a bit since the rain. Naturally, a very large surfing chicken was hanging out by the beach. Which chicken was my favorite, you may ask? As lovely as all of these statues were, the chicken that truly stole my heart was the chicken phone booth. Yep, chicken phone booth. Trouble imagining such a fantastic sight? Picture time!

After our walk through the town, we packed up the car and headed back to Recife. Upon returning, Annelise and I headed straight to Recife Antigo (downtown) in an attempt to catch an antique fair that happens every week. On the bus ride there, the most incredibly adorable older man boarded. Stout and quite short, he was wearing finely ironed khaki pants and a short-sleeve, pink button down shirt. To top is off, he was wearing a little ivy hat. As soon as I saw him, he captured my heart. After paying, he began searching for a seat and ended up dropping some of his change in the process. Eager to help the little guy (and just to find some way to talk to him), I leapt across the bus to pick up his change. He smiled so sweetly and thanked me. Made my day. 

Once in Recife Antigo, we booked it to the mall, only to find that a photography exhibit had replaced the antique fair for the week. True, we were disappointed, but we still enjoying viewing the photographs and later found ourselves chilling in a nearby bookstore, reading and coffee drinking. 

The next morning (Monday), Annelise and I had some errands to run before going to school. We caught the bus by the airport (far later than we had originally planned) and hoped we would be able to get everything done and still make it to school on time. We needed to get off in an unfamiliar part of town, so of course we jumped the gun and disembarked a stop early. Keep in mind, we were toting all of our TOEFL textbooks with us (about four or five books each) because we had not been able to leave them at school the previous day. Dreading the extra few blocks we then had to walk, we set off, preparing for much sweat and exhaustion to ensue. After a few minutes of walking, I spotted a familiarly stout man ambling in our direction. Crisply dressed and wearing an ivy cap... no way, it couldn't be him. Upon passing each other, though, he looked up and sure enough, 'twas my dear friend from the day before! We exchanged smiles and kept walking our respective directions, and after going a little ways I turned around and saw him running/waddling back in our direction! He started jabbering to us in Portuguese, wishing us a wonderful day and expressing his excitement. After holding our hands for a minute and grinning like no one's business, he bid us goodbye. Suffice to say, I couldn't have been happier. What were the odds? We were in a completely different part of town than where we saw him the day before. Plus, if we had actually gotten on the bus on time, we would have missed him! Not to mention, getting off at the wrong stop ended up being a blessing, as otherwise, us crossing paths would not have been possible at all. My, I am still in awe of the situation. Too wonderful. 

Monday evening, we had our first experience at the movies here. We went to see To Rome With Love, the latest Woody Allen picture. The line to get tickets was insane, despite it being a weekday night (and 10:00 in the evening). Somehow, we managed to get our tickets in time to even beat the previews. The movie was in English with Portuguese subtitles, which made all the difference. Because of our long day, I definitely almost nodded off a few times (it didn't help that the seats were the most plush theater seats I had ever seen). Anyways, the movie was lovely, humorous, and generally very lighthearted. I approved. 

The next morning, Annelise and I were dragging to the max. We got back so late from the movie, as catching a taxi took ages. Oh, and interesting note: we went to the theater in a nearby mall, and after the movie let out, everyone exited through the mall. Questionable? It was around 12:30 pm, so the mall was technically closed. Everyone was roaming about, heading to different exits. Security guards on Segways were trying to usher people around, but their efforts were not too successful. I found it so curious that we were not sent out a direct exit. Interesting. 

In any event, the two of us were pathetic characters the next morning, as we departed early (7:30 am, anyone?) to meet Tibeiro, the consulate friend, in Olinda. Tuesday was his last day in Brazil before departing for Colombia, so he wanted to spend some time with us. Per usual, it was pouring rain, so after a few phone calls with Tiberio, it was decided that we would wait at a mall near Olinda and he would pick us up around lunchtime, with hopes that the rain would finish up by then. Luckily, both of us woke up in time to catch our stop, and we ventured into the mall, beelining it to the coffee places. I took to a table to get some grading done and Annelise wandered about. A productive morning for sure. 

Colors everywhere!

By the time Tiberio arrived, the rain had stopped and our energy levels were more of approaching normal. Lucky man! I don't know how he would have reacted to our 7:30 am selves. Anyways, we made the short drive to Olinda, where Tiberio teaches and works. He showed us the coast and other various spots in the old city. We eventually made it up to the highest point, where we went up in an observation tower to see a fantastic 360 view. One can easily see Recife, Olinda, the ocean, and so much more! Though we have been to Olinda on several occasions, it is always just as beautiful. I love the brightly colored houses and Dutch/Moorish architecture. Fun fact: the houses are all painted so many colors because when the city was created numbers were not used to identify houses... only colors! Too fun. 

View of Recife from Olinda.

After poking our heads in the touristy shops, we paused for a quick lunch, tapioca! Olinda is pretty famous for tapioca, and most everyone had told us to try it there. Up until Tuesday, though, we had yet to follow this advice. Again, here we have another food that I will no doubt be missing next month. It's hard to describe, but it is like a chewy, slightly granular white pancake, folded in two. Usually, tapioca is filled with cheese and coconut, but one can order it with just about anything (they even have dessert ones, too! chocolate, strawberries, and coconut are some favorites).  Here is a link for a possibly better explanation: http://gobrazil.about.com/od/fooddrinkglossary/g/tapioca.htm. Advice confirmed: best tapioca to date. Not to mention, we had a great conversation buddy during our lunch, the daughter of the tapioca lady. This girl was so talkative and very bright, constantly asking us new words in English. She was sassy, too, which made everything that much more entertaining. The rain returned just as we were finishing up, so we scurried on back to the car. Good timing, though, as we got to school a few minutes late! 

Tiberio and me posing at the observation tower!

Like many days recently, class attendance was quite low. The students are starting to realize that they might now be taking the TOEFL exam soon, but instead one or two years from now. Such a decision is logical, as the exam is quite pricy and is only valid for two years. I hate that the students are slowly dropping the class, though. Also, the university strike is impacting their vacations, so most of the students figure that now is turning into their holiday time, so they want to take this opportunity to travel. Oh well. I really am going to miss those guys. The few students that come are trying so hard and complete every assignment I send their way. I can really see improvements in their skills these days. We have been doing an incredible amount of writing, and their efforts are paying off, for sure. 

Tuesday evening, we took it easy, as we were still wiped out, despite the copious amounts of coffee we consumed throughout the day. Wednesday, we headed to school later than usual, as we were feeling a slower morning. When class time rolled around, I was set and ready at my desk, books and attendance sheet laid out, all ready to go. 1:30 pm, no students. Hey, that's alright, we start late on most days. 2:00 pm, starting to wonder, but still trusting that someone would show up. By 2:30 pm, with only thirty minutes of class remaining, I accepted the fact that class period #1 was a no-go for the day. I got some planning and reading done, so I can't complain. My anal side was fretting over suddenly being a day behind in the grand plan, but all was well. Catching up is possible. Luckily, I had a lovely class of three for class #2, so we plowed through more of the textbook. The questions we tackled were far more difficult than others, so it was definitely an extreme learning experience. With those questions, the students had to insert a brand new sentence into the passage, choosing the most logical location. Challenging, for sure. An eye for wording is key, which can be tricky for ESL students. We are going to need some more practice in that area. 

This morning, Annelise and I set out for the beach, hoping to walk and explore a bit before heading to school. I am not sure how, but we were delayed getting on the bus (surprised?), so we had to switch up the plan. In the end, we found ourselves downtown, which was perfect, for both of us needed new board markers, and the office supply store is downtown. I have only found a few stores that actually sell dry erase markers, none of which are near our homes. Yep, my students had been getting some serious listening practice the past few days; my only two markers were way past dead. Markers obtained and coffee in our bellies, we caught bus #2 to school. Oh, and I might have already mentioned this, but coffee can be purchased at most street stands, but it is served in little plastic cups. Super hot coffee + super thin plastic cup = plastic-tastic coffee. Carcinogens for the win! Resource and money efficient, but definitely not healthy. 

Baby sharks. 

My classes were larger today, thank goodness. The two hour and a half periods flew by, per usual. After class, we joined Mauro, one of my students, on a field trip to the Fishing and Aquaculture department at UFRPE. Earlier that day Mauro had arranged a short tour for us so we could see the sharks they study! We could tell arrival was imminent, as the smell (stench, more of) of formaldehyde was impossible to miss. The student researchers showed us many shark heads in aquariums and explained to us the shark situation in Recife. Because of construction and port building, several populations of sharks have been forced to relocate to the Recife area, hence the recent increase in shark attacks. 

Two gals and a thresher tail. 

Also, we got to see and hold a four-five foot shark tail from a thresher shark (look them up... their tails are insane!). Even better, we got to hold several dead baby sharks that had been removed from the deceased momma sharks. It was sad to see so many dead sharks in one room, but the students explained that because of their research, community awareness and appreciation was growing. After some pictures (many of the goody variety), we headed out to the main road to wait for our ride to dinner (who doesn't want to dine out after handling formaldehyde-soaked sharks?). 

Sharky shark.

We dined with several of our students and their friends at a fantastic sushi restaurant. I was impressed, which is saying something, seeing as I am usually not the biggest fan of sushi. We went at it buffet-style and enjoyed some great conversation with new friends. One guy, whom we just met, was definitely worthy of best friend status. This guy speaks English almost perfectly, loves science fiction/ had heard of the Pendragon series (big points), free dives to the extreme, creates video games, and has been teaching himself Korean for the past three years (with great success). Such a cool guy. Plus, he ate wasabi like a champ, putting it on everything like ketchup. Oh, and tonight was his first time eating wasabi, and sushi, for that matter. He adapts quickly. 

The rain returned with a vengeance tonight, reaching its strongest as we were waiting at the bus stop. The storm must have been extra fierce, as later this evening the power went out on our side of town. No flashlights here! Luckily, the sky remains orange all night from the general light of the city, so the apartment was illuminated a bit.

Well, now we have reached my current state: droopy-eyed Rachel, sitting in bed, furiously writing away. We are pretty much caught up at this point, so I shall pause for now. Until tomorrow or sometime soon!

Graça e Paz

4 July, 2012

Being abroad for the Fourth of July (or 4 July, as they would write it here), I feel almost obligated to write about my Independence Day experience. Typically, back at home, I do not go crazy with patriotism; I definitely enjoy the holiday's festivities, but aside from that, I don't feel especially American, a proud citizen, or anything to that extent. Yesterday, though, there were a few moments when I actually felt patriotic, amazingly. 

To start the day, we grabbed one of the few buses that was running (did I mention that the official bus strike began yesterday? we had to cancel classes for the day) and traveled to ABA, Associação Brasil América, to give a short presentation abut American history. This week, ABA was hosting an American immersion program for a large group of high school students from all over northern Brazil. Annelise took the lead on this presentation, designing it around American music and how it reflects changes in culture throughout history, but regionally and nationally. We each spoke about some very distinctly American genres of music, like Motown, Bluegrass, and Blues.  

Afterwards, we fielded questions from the students, which was probably my favorite part. These students, though most of them were self-taught English speakers, had an amazing command of the language; it was almost like teaching a class of fluent speakers. The students asked questions about music, American culture, and our views on Brazil. One student, though, was far more forward than the rest. Many times, he kept prodding until he got a complete, in-depth answer to his questions. Near the end of our time, he asked us how much we knew about Brazil's independence day. We were stumped. Since being in Brazil, we had heard about this day, but not enough to spout information. The student continued on, pointing out that in the United States, most people probably know nothing about Brazil's independence. Granted, he was totally right, making Annelise and I gradually more uncomfortable standing in front of the class. In fact, I think the entire room tensed up a bit. Finally, the student wrapped up his point by saying that here in Brazil, the Fourth of July is well known and often times even celebrated, but for the reason that once the United States did become an independent nation, a change was made in the world. By no means is the U.S. perfect, but other countries needed to see such a bold move, and in consequent years the U.S. has continued to impact the world in incredible ways. My, at this time I did feel proud to be a citizen of the U.S. Yes, I still do feel fed up with the selfish tendencies of our country, but there are definitely so many redeeming qualities about the U.S. that I never stopped to consider. Here again the importance of outside perspectives is brought to light. 

After the class, we joined the students for their Fourth of July celebration, which included national anthem singing (both American and Brazilian), listening to a few words from Heidi Arola, a foreign service worker at the American consulate, meeting American Morman tourists, and eating Brazil's version of hot dogs and hamburgers. The celebration was definitely different than those in the U.S. but fun was had all the same.

We took it easy for the rest of the afternoon and later headed out for an American-style dinner with our students. We dined at a burger join called "Saturday's," where every item on the menu was named after a state. Delicious! Again, the burgers were different (they seemed to have some slight breading cooked on?), but they were still very yummy and reminiscent of the U.S. The best part was easily the milkshakes, of course. French fries dipped in a chocolate milkshake is one of my favorite summer meals. 

Following dinner, we made a pit stop at the beach front to see the moon over the water. The breeze made the temperature perfect, and the view was gorgeous, naturally. Upon returning home, I watched the end of an exciting soccer game between Brazil and Argentina. Because of Brazil's victory, there were indeed fireworks that evening, but not for July Fourth. Either way, there was much national pride to be felt, which was beautiful.