Money money money!

-Brazilians hate money. Ok, they're probably quite fond of the power of money, but they hate making change. I tried to buy some juice with a R$20 bill (around US$10) at a pharmacy, and was actually turned away because the bill was too big. The juice was probably around R$2. At a huge supermarket, I tried to pay for about R$15 worth of goods (including condensed soy milk!) with a R$50 bill, and the cashier freaked out. I had to wait about 10 minutes for several employees to discuss the issue and collectively come up with the change. This sort of thing happens everywhere one goes. Bonus: ATMs spit out only fifties.

-Tapioca is the street food of choice here, and it's delicious! Fun chemistry lesson: apply heat to tapioca flour and watch it gelatinize! Yep--pancake-like yums consist of straight-up tapioca. Just ask for no butter. 50 cents for 400 calories, or some such. That's what I'm talkin' about.

-When my classmates gush about their luxurious living quarters, my only response is, "I live in a box." My room is quite small and is on the side of the apartment opposite the other (normal-sized) bedrooms. One day, in culture/conversation class, we were discussing house vocabulary, and the instructor explained that all Brazilian homes are designed to accommodate a maid. All the students nodded knowingly as she described the tiny, windowless room off the kitchen, where the overworked and underpaid maid is supposed to live. Surprise--that's my room!

-This weekend, the group went to the tiny beach town of Jericoacoara. We rode a charter bus for about four hours, and then switched to two large pick-up trucks that were modified with benches in the back. The truck ride was insane--there's no way that it would have been legal in the US. The barefoot driver had to navigate narrow, one-way dirt paths that were riddled with gaping, water-filled holes, as well as contend with two-way traffic. I rode in one of the 7 seats in the cab, but heard panicked screams from the back of the truck. Turns out there was a cockroach; the driver had to stop and get it. Some rich Brazilian lady had been screaming at the top of her lungs.

In Jericoacoara, Jenn and I decided to skip the dune buggy ride on Saturday and explore the dunes ourselves. We walked to the top of a huge (from the perspective of someone who hasn't seen many dunes) dune and had fun eating sand and taking in the views. You can see our "Dying in the Desert" photos on Facebook.

That evening, a bunch of us went to the beach to watch people "play" capoeira. After David finished rejecting the woman who tried to sell him marijuana, we joined a circle of onlookers around the capoeiristas. My concentration was interrupted by the creepy guy who appeared next to me, said several times that I'm pretty, and offered to let me stay with him should I decide to remain in the area for longer than one day. Tough choice, but I decided to decline.

On the return trip, we utilized three different vehicles. That time, I ended up in the back of one of the trucks, holding on for dear life. Because the makeshift roads are so narrow, foliage kept reaching into the truck. Some branches brushed up against Jenn and David, leaving them covered with caterpillars (there were quite a few on my purse and on some other bags, but I think that I was mostly spared). David heroically removed almost all of the caterpillars from Jenn's body. After awhile, I picked through her hair and declared her caterpillar-free. Unfortunately, it turns out that, were I a monkey, I'd be a terrible grooming mate, because another critter appeared in Jenn's hair after we left the truck. After spending a couple of hours with a huge centipede at a not-so-paradisal locale, we boarded a large, bus-like vehicle that was like a giant, motorized version of a carousel carriage. All kinds of creepy critters were abundant on that trip; I couldn't wait to get off. I think that the woman in front of me thought I was quite the freak, because I kept smacking at her/lifting up her arm to get her away from the evil bugs. She got lots of "desculpas" from me.

-Brazilians are miniature people! Sure, it's an extraordinarily diverse populace, but the average height here has to be at least three inches shorter than that in the US. That makes me half a foot taller than the average woman here; I feel like a giant freak when I board the bus. I bought a couple of size large tee shirts from a store that didn't have a dressing room, and it turns out that they're nearly skin-tight and a bit too short. There is no extra-large size.

-I feel badass because Brazilians ask me for directions. I feel less badass when I have to inform them that I have no idea where I am, let alone how to get to where they want to go.

I am having a blast!

Adapting

I had four kisses at the mall today.

Lately I have been feeling much more comfortable in, and fond of, Fortaleza. I'm learning and adapting to the way of life here, and my Portuguese gets a little better everyday. I just don't know if I'll ever get used to kissing strangers.

I met Norali and Zac at the movie theater there. I bought my ticket and waited while they purchased theirs. The two men next to me had heard my horrible accent and asked where

I'm from. I answered and the one man said that his brother is in Newark right now. The men then introduced themselves, which involved a handshake plus two kisses with each. And then we parted ways. Mmkay.

I have developed a $3/1500 calories-a-day chocolate habit. Today I tried the Chocosoy truffles! Oh god.

Before that, the whole group had a day trip to a fancy schmancy beach. I rode the dunebuggy but didn't bring my camera for that. Note: if you have self-esteem/body image issues, you should come to Brazil and hang out on the beach. All women wear skimpy bikinis, and all men wear tiny Speedos, regardless of size, shape, or age. And no, Brazilians aren't somehow more attractive than any other population. They are just more confident.

ChocoSoy!

Brazil, land of vegephobes and egg-filled grocery pasta has, at every random pharmacy, bakery, and who knows where else--wait for it... soy milk chocolate! What the spork? For real! And it's crazy-good! At first I saw just straight-up nondairy milk chocolate, which was delicious, but today I found the noms pictured at left--ChocoSoy Crispies! Aka Nestlé Crunch Bar! Aka something that made me very happy as a nooblet! Coming soon: reviews of vegan truffles that cost a little over a dollar per package. Swoon.

Sunday, June 21st, 2009

I arrived in Fortaleza, Brazil on Friday morning. The plane ride essentially was an epic dance party. First, I flew to L.A. from Phoenix. I checked my large duffel bag and planned to carry on everything else. I had my purse, my messenger bag, and a grocery bag that held about 1.5 lbs of pesto pasta. Whole wheat pasta, no less. We’re talking hundreds of grams of fiber. It was a dream bag—endless pesto on pasta, water, and a fuzzy sweatshirt for a long plane ride that seemed more Alaska than Atlanta.

Unfortunately, the massive container of pasta rendered my grocery bag unable to fit into any other bag, so technically I had 3. I had hauled all of that ridiculously heavy luggage at least a mile to ensure that I would have at least some supplies, should the airline lose my checked bag. On the flight from Phoenix to L.A., I put only my duffel bag in an overhead bin and everything else at my feet, so I had, for all intents and purposes, 2 bags. Angry Lady at LAX yelled at me when I was in the security line and told me I had to check another one. It made me feel naked.

Many aching muscles later, I was on the action-packed and completely comfortable flight to Atlanta. I learned there that “action-packed and completely comfortable” is Airlinese for “remarkably boring and your-nipples-are-going-to-fall-off-even-with-a-sweatshirt cold.” Then I got to Atlanta, took a train ride, and met up with almost everyone in the group. Lots of new people, and all seemed lovely! Yay! I wasn’t seated near any of them. I did, however, sit next to two Brazilian guys living in the US. One turned out to be a month younger than me, and the other (ridiculously attractive), a few months older. We entertained one another for just about the entire 9-hour flight, ‘cause sleep is for suckas! Sexy Guy fell asleep on me for maybe a few minutes. Their destination was Recife (the third connection point) so I got new seatmates for the last leg of the trip.

I'm still not positive if my rowmates were a couple or father and daughter; in any case, the dude talked to me the whole time. It made me feel badass to hold a conversation in Portuguese for an hour. I didn't have my dictionary on me, so, in order to ask if whether the beaches are unfortunately shiny and/or bouncy, I had to attempt to describe what a jellyfish is, which didn't go down very well. No matter--there are no jellyfish on the beaches here!