Venice of Brasil

Mutirao Varzea

2008-07-04T10:28:00.003-03:00

And to continue this theme of lasts, the last mutirão de graffiti that we attended was in Varzea. Varzea is an interesting neighborhood near the federal university here in Recife (UFPE). Pixote and his group Novo Geração were in charge of organizing and welcoming everyone to their neighborhood. We had been there before a long time ago to hang out with Pixote and his family and paint graffiti. As evidence, our old piece was still up (horror of horrors). Yes, it was bad, and I am not saying that I have gotten much better, but looking at the really old stuff shows evidence of slight improvement (or maybe just better color choice). I think it might have been one of the first times I used spray paint, before that point, I was only using brushes.

It has been amazing to have participated in the Mutirão for the past 2 1/2 years and seen all of the different phases of the Rede and the different communities that participate in the Rede de Resistência Solidaria. In the entire time we have been here, they have only repeated one neighborhood, and that community is so big it was in a completely different part.

The mutirão had a lot going on and many more people involved from outside of the graffiti scene. One group set up a pirate radio, Radio Livre, at the main area, other people brought fruit seeds and soil to plant trees with the kids in the area, and another group attempted to organize the kids to paint a wall (I have written previously about my attempt to do that in the past!). It was interesting to have all of these different activities going on, because it took the mutirão past the idea of just showing up in the community to paint to a real community action day. I will admit that in the beginning, I was very skeptical about what the Rede was really doing and about the purpose of the mutirão—it seemed like it was just an opportunity to go out and paint with your friends in a somewhat organized fashion. I was constantly questioning whether going to paint people's houses in the communities really leads towards community self-sufficiency, but over time, I have come to understand more about how the Rede works and the effect it has on the communities and on the participants. By bringing a group of people from different communities in Recife, people get to know each other and their city. It challenges the idea that you stay in your own community and don’t interact with people from other areas. The more we met other people and see where they live, that more we realize that we are all in the same situation and working for the same goals. By organizing an event like this, it strengthens the relationships the various groups have in their community and makes the group more visible. People come out of their houses and ask what is going on and that creates a great opportunity to talk to people.

I really treasure all of the time I have spent going to different communities in Recife and talking to all of the people about their lives. I have been to more placed in Recife than most people who live here and have been to the "dangerous" neighborhoods and have seen first hand the reality versus the media image. I have seen various groups that are part of the Rede really grow and become more self-sufficient and organized. They are now producing materials, creating music, organizing workshops and are educators in their own communities. Nova Geração is a great example of a group that is organized and involved in their community. The Mutirão also shows people that there are alternatives and possibilities outside of the expected and the routine. My friend always says that Sundays in the communities are either about church or brega and beer. There aren't a lot of alternatives. The fact that the mutirão is always on Sundays breaks that routine--just like having an event in the street during the 8 o'clock soap opera. It makes people do something a little different. People come out of their houses, mix in the streets, and talk to people that they normally wouldn't take a second look at. Most of the time there are very positive results and many people who aren’t interested in the two Sunday options come out in the street to talk. Of course, there is always a few drunk old guys wandering around full of cana and stories.

It is always interesting to see what will happen when you show up and last Sunday really highlighted this culture clash between brega and beer, and something different. The DJ booth and microphone area were set up on one side of the soccer field directly in front of a little stand that normally serves as the local bar on Sunday. Everyone was back there drinking and listening to brega on a car stereo throughout the day, but there came a point when a midwife group from the community was talking on the microphone and the brega kept getting louder and louder. One woman in particular pulled up her shirt, beer in hand, and started bumping and grinding in a way that was almost a challenge. It really felt like as a group they were saying, "This is OUR place, and this is what WE do on Sunday." I can see how it would almost feel like an invasion and a challenge to the people doing what they normally do. All of the sudden this giant group of people show up in your community and start playing their music and talking about what they want. Of course, the community is welcome to participate and that is a main part of the mutirão, but it is asking people to participate in a very different way. The situation was handled graciously, but I definitely felt the resentment (probably provoked by beer) by the people wanting their typical Sunday beer and brega.

Aside: One of the things I most admire about Brazil is how people deal with confrontation. People are gracious in ways that I am always surprised by. I can't count how many times that I have been in a situation that would definitely have led to a fight, raised voices, cries to talk to the manager in the United States that have been resolved here with a smile and a thumbs up. Twice in the past week I have watched difficult situations resolved with humor, tact and consideration for both points of view--something I consider very rare in the place (and people) of my land.

Another last

2008-07-01T08:36:00.002-03:00

Yesterday was my last day of work. It was strange and left me feeling a little empty. Most people had already gone on vacation, the library was closed, and everything felt deserted. I think I saw about 7 people when on a normal day it would be more like hundreds.

I am so glad that a few of the teachers organized a party for me last week. It would have been devastating to end yesterday without that last chance to see everyone. The party itself was very sad because all of the sudden it really felt final. Up until that point I had been in complete denial about my eminent departure and then as I walked in the room everyone sang a little song about leaving (that I had never heard before, but there was mention of saudades) and I immediately started crying.

There was a lot of typical food from Sao Joao (corn based), and other typical sweets from this area (bolo de rolo, bolo de mandioca, beiju, etc.) It never ceases to amaze me that you can make so many different things out of cassava/manioc root. It is really limitless. You can have an entire full course meal here made out of nothing but manioc, but that is another post.

It felt good to turn in my final work project and turn to the new project of taking apart the rest of my life here.

Rain

2008-06-25T21:59:00.005-03:00

The rainy season in Recife is something a desert girl cannot get used to. It takes your breath away, fills the streets, and signals retreat. There are times when I can't hear the person I am talking to on the phone because of the rain. We have to shut all of the windows and doors and still can't hear the music from the stereo. The rainy season has made some appearances this year but hasn't shown us all of its force--it saves that for July.

About two weeks ago as I was getting out of class, Sam showed up at work and handed my a pair of flip flops and an umbrella. "You are gonna need these to get home," he said. True enough, it was mid-shin deep in many places. It is hard not to think of the raw sewage as you are wading through the streets. There is also something I call "the rat pee disease" (because I can't remember the real name) that comes from wading through sewage water. A great thought as you are trying to get home. I guess it is nothing that a shower and a mantra can't take care of , "I am not walking through sewage, I am not walking through sewage." Ahhh, Venice, of Brazil that is!

Luckily there have been few days like this so far, but then again, it is only July 1st.

The Slow Surgery of Leaving

2008-06-19T00:25:00.004-03:00

The last day of teaching is the beginning of many "lasts" that will happen in the next month. My friend said it perfectly today, "You spend all of this time constructing a life, and then you have to take it apart." That is how I feel right now; I am slowly beginning to dismantle pieces of my life. Student removal was the first big piece that was taken apart yesterday. It is so strange to have people that have become so intertwined with your life (for better or for worse) just look at you and walk out the door. I always feel a little empty and unfulfilled. I feel like I need to get something back from them that they have been taking from me all semester.

Maybe the whole process is like a slow surgical procedure, and the monkey on my back has just been removed. After the grades are in the system, the projects finished, and the last day of work completed, the rocks bearing down on my shoulders will be removed. After two weeks of frantic scrambling to sell everything, deal with unbelievable bureaucracy, and saying goodbye to everyone I know here, the pits will be taken from my stomach. And finally, when I get on the plane, little pieces of my heart will be shredded and left with the people I care about and a dirty smelly city that I came to love.

Bird Graffiti

2008-06-10T22:11:00.003-03:00

I haven't written much about the mutirões lately or painting graffiti, but I have been painting a lot lately. I have spray paint all over the outer edges of my finger nails to prove it. It has been fun and I have been a lot less anxious, but I always end up worrying about what to paint. I haven't been drawing lately, so I have been painting birds. Strange birds. Colorful birds. Girly colored birds

And the thing is, I don't really like birds.

Praia

2008-06-04T20:42:00.008-03:00

We have been renting (or chipping in) on a beach house in Enseada dos Corais since January and it is about to come to an end. We had a great New Years there with lots of friends that involved an 8 hour game of Risk, whiskey, other card games, churrasco, and of course, beach. It was a great way to spend another birthday and my friend made me a cake. It had been a long time since someone made me a birthday cake.

It takes anywhere from an hour and a half to two and a half hours to get there depending on how quickly you catch the three buses. Sometimes it is like a perfectly timed dance where you get off one bus as the other pulls up, and sometimes you are left standing in a bus station smelling of piss for what is always too long. Recently they have added a direct bus on the weekends that runs once an hour from the center of Recife--great when the dance works! We have been going there on and off since January, but unfortunately we have trouble getting out of town due to a) dogs b) work c) dogs. We have a few lovely house sitters, but it is difficult to ask the same people every weekend to go out of their way to take care of some old dogs, even if money is involved.

Going to the beach is a very seasonal thing here even though it is a tropical climate and year round beach going is certainly possible. After Semana Santa, it is "going to the interior" time, namely Gravata, until about November when beach time starts up again. I think it gives you a sense of seasons which otherwise is totally lacking in this climate.

Completely out of season, we went to the beach yesterday. It was amazing to see no one except fishermen and surfers. The ocean is a little more wild and the waves get better, so "winter" is the time when surfers get all of the fun. "Winter" is also the rainy season, another solid reason why the beach is not the most popular activity. You are always running a risk of getting rained on. Yesterday was a mix of sun, rain and clouds, but there was a special feeling in the open expanse of the beach--privacy and real life. The life of the place without tourists. We love the area from Calhetas to Itapoama because it is a real place. Everyone here talks about Porto das Galinhas as the best beach around, but I don't like it. It is touristy and the place to be, all the more reason for not going.

Xareu

The middle and upper class, or as they call them here, the A and B classes, buy and sell and move up and down the coast with the latest fashion. Many places have been the "it" place in the past and have fallen out of favor. Porto das Galinhas is the it place, but I think its time has come. (The name comes from its past as a secret slave port after slavery was made illegal. The slaves were called "chickens" by the slavers to disguise the real nature of their ship's cargo).

Calhetas

Calhetas was my favorite beach for a long time--a small little cove with a few beach barracas and deep, clear, calm water, but it has been replaced with Xareu. Xareu is a mixture of virgin beach and a few beach barracas where you can get cold beer, wonderful caldinho, fried fish and macaxeira. My favorite meal. There is something about eating fish and macaxeira on the beach while sipping beer or coconut water that the completes perfection.

These are the things that I will miss.

Meat Party

2008-05-25T19:33:00.004-03:00

I can't believe that I have lived in Brazil this long without going to a rodizio churrasco. I have been to a rodizio of pizza and pasta (another sickening experience), but the traditional barbecue experience had eluded me until today. My work changed its bonus policy and instead of giving us money, we get points towards things like meals, books, and electronics. So, this meat party was the result of my hard work last year and ability to keep students enrolled in the course.

A rodizio is basically an amazing salad bar and roving waiters constantly showing up to shave sizzling meat off skewers onto your plate. It is a knock down drag out all you can eat extravaganza and I still feel a little sick. I definitely did not indulge to my fullest, but even 6 hours later I feel a fullness slightly boarding on nausea. My husband made a nice showing, but nothing like the days of his youth (and ability to finish a Hurricane's disaster burrito).

I should confess that I was a vegetarian for about 12 years, and then added fish and chicken to the menu, and only after moving to Brazil, I started eating red meat. So, two and half years of red meat eating (on a very very occasional basis) after almost 20 years without does not prepare the stomach for this kind of experience. After Sam said, "suckling baby pig" my stomach sort of flopped over and the meat party took a new turn. It tastes good, but it is also a little gross at the same time. I have also had some misgivings about sausage lately as well. It has done me wrong more than once. I think it might be time to rethink this whole carnivore attitude. I might be ready to return to my vegetarian ways, but then again, what is life without bacon? Ahh bacon, the one meat that always brings me back.

Note: I threw up later that night. No more meat for me, at least for a couple of days

Official

2008-05-23T18:52:00.003-03:00

We are leaving.

There. I said it. We are leaving Recife and moving back to the US. I have made it clear that only a fool would move back BEFORE the election (considering the hijacking of the previous two), but I am now that fool, moving back to jump into the fray when it is at its most intense. Unfortunately, I have never let politics be a purely spectator sport; I am in there making myself sick and stressing out with the best of them. I am hoping that this 2+-year break will give me a little perspective on the event, but I really wish that I were voting at the consulate instead.

Of course there are a million other reasons besides politics that I want to stay here, and a million reasons to go home, but it comes down to this--it is time.

It is time to do something other than teach English, it is time for my husband to do what he wants to do, it is time to be surrounded by family and friends, and it is time to see what else is out there for us. I have always known that Recife is not the place where I want to spend the rest of my days, but it has become home and comfortable. I really like the people I work with and my general work environment, I am finally getting involved in some interesting projects at the Federal university, and we have a great little rented beach house with friends to escape to (when we can get dog sitters), but when it comes down to it, it is not enough. I miss my friends and family. I miss having people to depend on. Here we live in the world of acquaintances, they are great, but they do not fill the emotional need I have for my people.

I have no idea if this move back is permanent or temporary, but it is the next step. It is almost as though I have stepped outside and am watching myself flip channels, instead of planning the next beach vacation, I am thinking about bringing my garden back to life, getting chickens and goats, and planning mountain biking and camping expeditions. All of the things that I cut completely out of my life by moving here are slowly starting to creep back into my thoughts. Yesterday, I caught myself visualizing the mountain bike paths in the foothills, the ride to the food coop, and the view from the porch of the cabin.

Historically, I have not dealt well with these transition periods and have completely broken down. I am trying to avoid this behavior this time. My inspirational life coach (aka my closest friend here) has been propping me up with positive energy.

So that is my mantra--take advantage of this time and do everything possible. It is not the time for regrets, but for moving forward and doing new things.

Too Comfortable

2008-04-25T19:34:00.003-03:00

Just when you get comfortable here, something jars you back into reality. Tonight Sam and I got home at around 6pm, left the bikes in the front, sat down at the table for crackers and water
(dinner!) then the dogs started to bark, and looking back it was a very different bark than usual.
Sam got up and looked around outside, hushed the dogs and brought them back inside the house and shut the door. We were back at the table chatting when the clinking sound I had been hearing started to register only after Sam is up out of his chair and out the front door. He turned around and yelled, "The gate", grabbed the keys and was off. I knew immediately that someone had stolen my bike. I chased after him out the door and down the street, when he turned around grabbed his bike and took off down the street after whoever it was with my bike.

By this point, my heart is racing and I am freaking out because he is chasing after someone who might have a gun. I know that he will not find them, but it wasn't a chance I wanted him to take. I ended up just standing at the end of our street waiting, and luckily a friend walked by and I had a chance to chat and distract myself from darker thoughts. Sam came back in one piece, we finally actually looked at the gate, and there was my bike, hanging off the metal spikes on the wall. A few serious scratches and a punctured tire, but it is still my bike. I was so mad to have lost my transportation with only 3 months left here; it was almost funny that we never even looked to see if the bike was there. Next to the bike was a pair of purple flip-flops tied together with a piece of fabric. That also made me sad. I bet they were his only pair.

The worst is the feeling in my chest, that someone was in my yard, that they could have come in the house, and that we are always vulnerable. The neighbors saw us out there, we told them what happened, and then they started telling their stories about being held up in their house by 3 armed boys and about the woman who climbed up to their second story and tried to get in through the window in the middle of the day. I have been left with a general feeling of weakness and a prickling in my chest.

I guess we are going back on lock down. Bikes are always in the "cage", locking the cage when we are home, adding a padlock to the gate, and keeping the front door closed and locked. We quit leaving the bikes out over night because someone tried to steal our house sitter’s bike in the middle of the night, so now they are coming in at 6 pm. We had only been home for about 20 minutes, so it makes me feel like they were watching.

The thing about these situations is that you always read more into it than there really is. They were probably some kids looking around for a good opportunity and saw the bikes. Nothing more, nothing less. It is interesting that the dogs knew what was going on, but we didn't get it. I will remember that bark in the future.

Normose

2008-04-24T22:03:00.006-03:00

I have returned from the land of the lost...actually, it wasn't that bad. I ate and drank lovely things and spent time with some wonderful people. As always, the idea of the US has nothing to do with the reality. I have to keep reminding myself of that for the move home. I witnessed so many expressions of creativity of action and thought--things that could only happen there. I feel extremely lucky to know artistic expressive people who are willing to go against the grain, who are challenging the status quo with their everyday actions. It will make the transition better to know that still exists.

In some ways, I think that you are freer to be different in places like the US and Canada, it is much more difficult to go against the grain here, but at the same time, I am constantly questioning this "freedom of expression.” It seems like everyone in the US is trying so hard to be different they end up all being the same. High school is all about who you are and who you are not. Identity formation by subtraction. Just in the 2 years that I have been gone the term "hipster" has taken on a completely new meaning. In the quest to be different, hipsters are now the norm--just like in the quest to be punk you end up wearing a uniform (quote courtesy of Sam). So, is this apparent freedom of expression really freeing or just another way to sell cool? We define ourselves by our difference and not by what we share in common. How does that shape the way we see and interact with each other?

In Brazil, most people want to be "normal," everyone dresses the same, follows the same codes of cool, and listens to the same music; people are not trying so hard to be outwardly different. There is even a term for it; it is called "normose," the disease of normalcy. Everyone wants to be so alike that they lose the quirks and the individuals who innovate and challenge traditional ways of being and thinking. Brazil is a very homogeneous society with very diverse cultural roots. This homogeneity leads to less conflict and outward angst, and in some ways, I wonder if it allows more individual freedom. Sometimes it seems that when you are not trying so hard to be different and to define yourself as "something" that you can just be yourself. You aren't constantly trying to be, you just are. Where is the balance between normose and the freedom to be who you are?

I remember feeling like I never fit in because I fit in everywhere. I didn't have a distinct style or group. I was always a little envious of my hipster friends who had the style, the music--the elements of cool. I look at the teenagers I deal with everyday in Brazil and they seem to have much less angst than American teens. I also think this is because they are accepted members of society here; they are included. Two different times on our trip in the US people told me that they didn't carry certain items because they didn't want "the kids" in their stores. Teens are not accepted as members of society--they are alienated and left out. When I was working to establish a youth center in Albuquerque there was a general outcry because the neighborhood didn't want teens in their community center. Ponder that for a minute. If teens aren't allowed in, then who is part of their community?

Brazil seems to have space for everyone. When you go out to a restaurant or bar, you see people of all ages interacting and relating to each other--teenagers are part of society and are not included in the "other" category. Because of this, I see a lot less angst in my students than in US teenagers, but they all seem to have dropped out of a mold where they have been programmed "to do the best for my future." The normose disease strikes again!

Missing Brazil

2008-04-07T13:11:00.002-03:00

I have been in the US for the past week and it makes me miss Brazil. There are a few reasons for this--weather, coffee, cars, and weather. It has been cold, rainy and gray since we have been here. It is utterly uninspiring to leave the house. It is great for drinking coffee and snuggling under down comforters--too bad the coffee sucks! Actually, I had a great cup this morning from our host's french press, but every other cup of coffee has been horrible. Now keep in mind I just told my Brazilian friends that they are arrogant about their coffee (for good reason) so I shouldn't be throwing any stones.

I have also realized that I do not enjoy travel by automobile very much. Getting out of NYC involved numerous gasps, clutching at the door handles, and eye covering. Luckily my husband was amused and didn't want to kill me. It just feels scary. Good thing my driver's license expired so I won't be able to partake in this "liberating" activity.

And again, it is cloudy and gray outside and I am freezing sitting here--heat is expensive, but luckily I have a hat!

Being here just nags at me. Where do I want to live? What do I want to do? How does this work with Sam's life?

Addicted

2008-03-18T23:09:00.004-03:00

It started out slowly and has been getting worse and worse as time goes on.

I am now officially addicted to coffee. I blame Brazil. This is a coffee-infused country where the cafezinho is king. It all started when our friends stayed with us for awhile and brought the coffee filter--basically a little cloth bag and a funnel. The rest is history.

It started slow, coffee on the weekends or on days when we had a late start to the morning, but then it got more frequent. A thermos of coffee every morning, numerous mochaccinos mixed with espressos at work from the machine, iced coffee from the morning leftovers, little coffees at restaurants after lunch, little coffees at stores, little coffees in the grocery store. The cafezinho is everywhere.

I now NEED my cafezinho. I have never been an obsessive coffee drinker. I used to have coffee at weekend breakfast, but most of my caffeine came from tea (ahhh, the soy chai). I now love coffee. It is not a good morning without some coffee to start the day. I think it also has to do with my schedule. I do not teach in the mornings, so if I don't have a meeting, the morning is usually spent with coffee and the computer. Coffee has also become a food substitute. I have been working really long hours for the past couple of weeks to get ready for two conferences in the US. Editing video lends itself to staying holed up in the Digi-lab and only moving to get to the coffee machine in the hallway. I think I may have lost some weight due to the recent coffee diet, of course the brown teeth don't do any wonders. As the rainy season starts, the coffee intake goes up. I am beginning to sympathize with all those people in Seattle.

This is one habit I don't want to bring back with me. Can I trade US coffee for Brazilian fruit?

Getting Older

2008-02-16T20:06:00.005-03:00

I am not settling into this phase of life very easily. I am a homebody, but I don't want to be, I am a party girl that doesn't party, I am a social person with anti-social behavior, and I am a traveling spirit trapped in my house. This doesn't bode well. I am crediting these changes to age. I am at a point when I do not want to go out and party all night, but I feel like I should want to, and then I feel guilty for not going out. I have been creating a mental list of "you know you are getting old when...

staying out drinking in the street with people you don't know doesn't sound like fun.

you have no idea what the latest band is and do not care

you will not travel anywhere to see a show or do anything to get backstage

you stand at the back of the crowd

note: some friends came over and interrupted the writing of this post; we stayed up until 4:30 in the morning. I might have to rethink my list a little.

Paz

2008-02-11T23:02:00.001-03:00

I have been thinking a lot about peace lately. The plea for peace in the daily chaos, peace in the middle east, peace in Iraq, peace studies, peace linguistics, paz em 2008, peace in numerous global conflicts, and peace in the Brazilian favelas.

Who benefits from peace? Equally important, who benefits from conflict?

It never occurred to me to question the idea of peace as part of the status quo until a woman in my human rights class at the UFPE brought it up. We were discussing peace education and a project that was instituted at one of the public schools here in Recife. Everyone was praising the project and inevitably, the discussion turned to the previous day's headlines of violence, assaults, general terror, and mayhem. You could smell the fear being generated within the room. I have written about the fear circles before, and this was no different. It is always someone is a situation of privilege talking about being terrorized.

As the conversation built on what we do with violence in the schools, violent children, and educating in this setting, she said something to the effect of, "And just exactly who are we asking to be peaceful? The students who have nothing? Who are marginalized? Who are victims of our society? How can we ask them just to accept the situation and be peaceful about it? PEACE FOR WHOM?"

I had never thought to stop and question the very idea of "peace" and whom it benefits in an unequal and unjust society.

Peace means telling these people to accept their situation and through their submission and non-confrontational practice, they will find peace. Acceptance or submission is the price of peace. These kids are coming from the violence of their daily lives, the fight just to get through the day, the symbolic violence against them in the media, the physical violence of the police, and we ask them to be peaceful. Peace fits the status quo. Peace does not rock the boat. Peace does not change the system.

Their fight is disrupting our peace. Their agitation against the system makes the middle class' lives a little less comfortable.

I had already written a draft of this post when I read a comment on my friend's blog about the riots in Mozambique over a bus fare increase. This fare increase would literally have left the majority of the population working only to pay for taking the bus to work with nothing left over. The comment someone wrote about the protest was to the affect of "why can't they just be organized and peaceful?" Something about that idea just made me uncomfortable. I obviously believe in non-violence from my privileged perspective, but can I demand the same of people in an obviously less privileged situation that literally determines if they can feed their families? Do I have a right to project my "peace" upon the people the system is marginalizing?

We are taught the non-violence is the solution to conflict and through non-violent action, we can change things. I am starting to become a little more doubtful. In a system that is inherently violent how do people make changes? I know the standard answers education, unity, etc., etc., but what is really changing?

I still believe in a world without violence, I just wonder who sacrifices for that peace.

Carnival Cold...again

2008-02-05T16:15:00.000-03:00

I spoke too soon. On Saturday night I started to feel the sore throat and brushed it off as screaming, drinking, and partying too much, but on Monday it became all too clear that yet again, I got the Carnival cold at the beginning of Carnival. I can't quite understand it. I could explain the first two years of the Carnival Cold because I had been in the US during January and could blame the difference in temperature, new germs, etc. This year I have no excuse except that I am allergic to Carnival. Yes, this could also be a very intense allergy attack. It feels like allergies, like Juniper allergies in New Mexico at their very worst. The force of the sneezing actually shakes my body and resembles something out of the Exorcist.

I have often said that I am allergic to Recife, and this just proves the point. While traveling the last month along the coast, I was fine, no problems, and as soon as I get back to Recife the allergies come and I feel horrible. My allergies have been getting worse since I got here; I think that it could be the super chlorinated water that makes your eyes burn in the shower, the air pollution, the dust that seems to coat every surface with fine black powder, or just general city living.

There is also the option of psychosomatically induced sickness to Carnival, but who would do that to themselves? This has been listed as an option, but I am going to overrule it.

So, I have been sitting in the hammock reading Love in the Time of Cholera (again), drinking coffee, and generally enjoying the complete silence of normal city noises. It is almost eerie how quiet it is. The entire city outside of the Carnival areas is shut down; I haven't even heard a car pass by in the past few hours. If you don't like Carnival (a surprisingly big population), you go to the beach or the country, and if you do like Carnival you are in the folia day and night when not sleeping so the rest of the city is a ghost town. It is like being on a retreat from the chaos in the middle of it all. I have said before how my house is a little oasis in the madness--full of birds and flowers with a great hammock on the porch, and now it really is, complete with the silence of the city sleeping.

Carnaval 2008

2008-02-02T14:11:00.000-03:00

Carnaval Multicultural

Recife/Olinda has one of the best carnival parties in the country for being the "Carnaval de Todos." In Rio, you only get to samba with enough money to buy a costume or a ticket and Salvador is equally exclusive because you have to buy a shirt ($$$) in order to parade with the Trio Electricos, but in Recife everyone heads to the street dressed in crazy costumes or everyday clothes to brincar (play) carnival.

Carnival in Recife is also amazing because of the diversity of music you will hear. In Rio and São Paulo samba is the thing, and in Salvador it is all Axe, but Recife has such a diverse variety of music there is no way that I can list it all. Recife is currently celebrating 100 years of Frevo and it is by far the most common music you will hear during Carnival. The word Frevo comes from "ferver" which means to boil. I can only describe it as a frenetic clown dance with leaps and squats all done with a tiny umbrella and a giant smile on your face. I took a couple of frevo dance classes, but I couldn't hack it. It is too much bouncing around for me and my bad ankle.

The streets are also filled with the rhythms of Maracatu, Caboclinhos, Coco, Afroxe, Samba, Electronic music, Mangue Bit (or Beat), Hip hop, Rock, etc. On Friday night, we went down to Marco Zero to see Silvério Pessoa with Manu Chao, Paulo Miklos and Fernando Anitelli do Teatro Mágico. It was a great show and an amazing opportunity to see Mano Chao. I had never seen him live and we were right up front during the show. I have been trying to find out if he was going to have a show other than the Marco Zero appearance, but I had no luck, and then I met him and asked.

On Saturday we were in Olinda and our bloco, Eu Acho é Pouco, stopped for one of its breaks and he walked right by me. I looked at Sam and said, "Is that Mano Chao?" Sam confirmed and I ran after him tapping him on the shoulder saying "licença, licença, você é Mano Chao?" and he stopped, confirmed that we was in fact Mano Chao, and I asked him about more shows in Recife (negative) and told him I really enjoyed the show the night before. He said that he would probably be back at the end of the year (damn) and then I quit bothering him. Wow.

That alone was enough to make the night great, but we ran into lots of friends, danced and had a great time. So far, Carnival is going well...and I am not sick. This is the first Carnival that I haven't had the Carnival cold. Carnival cold is really common due to the excessive abuse of alcohol, lack of sleep, and lots of tourists bringing new germs, everyone gets Carnival cold on Wednesday, except me, I get it before and during Carnival. So being healthy this year helps a lot too! I have been dosing vitamin C for the past week in preparation.

Off to Recife Antigo for more Carnival!

In defense of American underwear

2008-01-25T16:50:00.000-03:00

I have had the need to defend American women's underwear on a few occasions, and now I am ready to make my case.

My Brazilian friends were complaining about not being able to buy underwear in the US because it is either enormous, as in, covering the entire bottom, or it is a thong, as in, string up your ass.

Brazilian underwear is somewhere in the middle. It is high cut across the tush essentially dividing each cheek in half--the same cut as the famous Brazilian bikini. While I fully support the Brazilian bikini for making your butt actually look smaller instead of encasing it in a sack, I cannot get behind Brazilian underwear for the following reason:

PANTY LINE

I have never scene such flagrant panty line abuse in all of my travels. When I explained to my Brazilian friends about why the thong exists and why American women are so paranoid about not letting people see their underwear from outside of their clothing, they all looked a little shocked and fully admitted to being in constant violation of VPL.

Brazilian underwear squeezes each cheek and due to its small size leaves a sizable indention in the tush, made all the more visible by tight polyester pants and spandex. Brazilian women are known for working what they got, and unfortunately prominent panty line goes along with it. In Brazilian underwear's defense, obviously panty line isn't a big deal here, so who cares? Let those lines show and be free! But alas, my culture does not feel that way and I am a product of my environment and cannot exhibit such freedom.

Now, the case for American underwear:

If you are wearing jeans or some non-tight fitting bottoms you can wear your big sack underwear, it is comfortable and no one in going to see it, but if you are wearing something form-fitting you have the option of a thong to minimize the VPL. It is about options, but of course, you have to know when to exercise those options and many woman simply fail at this step. American underwear doesn't stand the middle ground--it is all about extremes, but at those outer edges its job is being accomplished.

I rest my case.

The Sky is Falling

2008-01-25T15:40:00.000-03:00

Sam has divulged a minor paranoia that he has been harboring during our time here in Brazil that has got me thinking and maybe a little paranoid as well. Basically, he is afraid of getting brained by some large falling object of the fruit variety, and when you look up at the trees here, you realize that he has a point. If you are going to sustain an injury from falling fruit, it is going to be here. We are constantly hearing giant thuds and smacks as fruit hits the cement, our roof, and the parked cars around the neighborhood. I wonder if insurance covers fruit damage? After Sam confessed his paranoia, the next day while walking down the street he heard 3 consecutive thumps of Jambo hitting the ground where he was just standing.

Guava, Jambo, and Cashew are of the baseball size variety, you might feel a little pain, but you will not lose consciousness.

Caju (Cashew--the nut come from the brown cashew-shaped thing on the bottom)

Then you have Mango, Avocado, Graviola, Papaya, and Breadfruit that could do some significant damage. These are heavy fruits and some of them come from very tall trees. Our neighbor has a Mango tree that has hundreds of Mangoes on it, and he also has a little clandestine restaurant with lots of customers sitting under the tree. Just waiting for tragedy to strike. Luckily there are always people cruising the streets with a cut off 2 liter plastic bottle tied to the end of a stick removing mangoes from other people's yards. Who knows the chaos that could instill if this "service" didn't exist?

Bread fruit

Graviola (Guanabana in English, who knew?)

I haven't even mentioned what I consider the one of the most dangerous fruits of all--Jack fruit (Jaca in Portuguese). Jack fruit is frightening due to its sheer size and weight--it can weigh more than 15 kg (more than 30 pounds) and it is a little spiky. They aren't too common in the city so the danger of getting knocked out by a Jack fruit is small and would be your own fault for standing under such a large piece of fruit. Jack fruit is also delicious in small quantities--there is a reason that they sell it cut into small pieces.

But then there is the coconut. When we think of the coconut tree, we picture the quintessential idyllic beach scene, a nice place to sit and ponder the enormity of the world, and yet, so dangerous. Just hearing the sound of those delicious cocos hitting the ground should send shivers down your spine.

All I can say is that I am looking up a little more lately.

Nação Zumbi

2007-12-22T12:38:00.000-03:00

Well, I have finally done it. I have checked off everything on my list. There were certain things that I wanted to do before leaving Brazil, and as of last night they are all done. It is a strange feeling not to have anything left that I have to do. Of course there are many places that I still want to visit (like the Pantanal), but there is no list to go by.

The List

Fernando de Noronha. Check

Lençóis Maranheses. Check

O Rappa Show. Check

Nação Zumbi Show. CHECK

And this was not just any show. It was at the Nascedouro de Peixinhos. It used to be an old slaughterhouse and has recently been renovated into a gorgeous cultural space. I participated in a dance workshop there a month ago and Sam painted graffiti there as part of a workshop for SPA--a street arts festival. It is in a neighborhood right next to a favela that is considered pretty dangerous, but apparently there is a lot of money coming into the neighborhood from foreign donors to work on the canals and rivers. (There are some photos of this neighborhood in our flicker page from a mutirão de graffiti that Sam participated in.)

It order to keep the place from turning into complete chaos they gave out free tickets the day before the show, something we found out when we arrived at the show. So there we are standing outside watching the opening DJ on a screen out on the street in front of the building and then Nação comes on stage. The whole time I am fuming about watching them on TV and trying to find some way to get in, someone with extra tickets, etc. Just as they start their first song a girl with an envelope runs by and a ticket falls out. She turned and ran back to get the ticket and then as she spun around to leave 6 more tickets flew out of the envelope. It took me about one beat to start moving and grab a ticket off the ground. My group of friends all got one and then we stood there for awhile waiting for her to come back. She didn't. AND WE GOT IN!

It was amazing--like seeing them in a small club or a private party. It wasn't crowded, we were really close to the front without touching other sweaty people, and the sound was amazing. I didn't think it would ever be possible to see a show like this with so few people, especially in Recife, and I am sure that there will never be another chance to see them like this again. Chico Science and Nação Zumbi were one of the first Brazilian bands I got into when I was here in 1999 (right after Chico died), along with Marcelo D2, Rappa, Lenine, etc, so it has been amazing to finally see them in concert. I almost saw Lenine last week, but we got there a little late, but Carnival is coming and the chance to see amazing music will be around for the next two months!

Tonight they are playing another free show at Marco Zero for about 20,000 people. I won't be going...

So, we made a decision. We are staying.

Absent blogger

2007-11-04T17:20:00.000-03:00

It is hard to come back. It is hard to write something after you haven't written in ages. What is there to say? I feel as though I should be bringing back profound insights from my hiatus as a blogger, but I did not. I think blogging is not for me. I often want to write about something and then second guess myself into not doing it--no one is interested, too personal, boring, poorly written, the excuses are bountiful, and of course there is sitting at the computer long enough to blog but not to do all of the other things I should be doing.

We are in another phase of "Should I stay or should I go." Annoying isn't it? It is almost a joke every time we start the discussion because we know that there is no answer and no conclusion to come to. After returning to the US for a few weeks I came back with a definite answer--LEAVE, but it was at this moment that Sam had been thinking STAY, so we convinced each other right back into the middle. I have not felt so directionless in a long time and this is not only in regards to staying or leaving but everything that goes with it--building a life somewhere and making the choices that will close doors that I am not sure I want closed. On top of this, I spent the last week in bed with a nasty stomach infection, with plenty of time to get depressed and measure out all of my shortcomings and what I have not accomplished with my time here.

And as proof of my bad blogging I want to delete everything I just wrote for being too whiny, pathetic, and uninteresting, but I am going to keep it.

Mutirão Dois Irmãos

2007-07-01T11:40:00.000-03:00

This was the BEST Mutirão EVER! I am not the only one to say this. There are a couple of factors that have lead to this conclusion.

First of all, we were in the most amazing community. I have always liked the area, even though I have not spent very much time there. We have done two hikes in the forest near there right next to the zoo that is part of the only piece of Atlantic forest left in Recife and every time I go to the university I ride past it in the bus. I have been staring wistfully at this neighborhood from afar, and I finally got a chance to check it out up close.

We rode bikes (about a 45 minutes -1 hr ride) to get there which was an experience. I wasn't sure how the ride would be because I normally travel it by bus, but it was a really calm Sunday morning. We got there and found everyone hanging out in a central area by the soccer field (imagine that!). Most of the houses in the community are tucked into the Atlantic forest up on hills and the entire area is amazingly green and peaceful. The group from the Rede in that community recently took over an old police station so the big mission was to paint it and make it welcoming for the community. We went over there, but most of the space was already taken, so Sam and I ended up painting on the soccer field. We painted the proverb, "a bird in the hand is worth two flying." That is the Portuguese version--in the air versus stuck in a bush. Ha! There is actually some interesting political commentary that could come from that.

After painting, we went to Poeta's house and then he took us for a hike to Blanca Diaz' house in the Atlantic forest. We had been there before on the zoo hikes, but it is always spectacular. The legend is that the house belonged to Blanca Diaz (I think that is the right name). Her family was one of the original Jewish settlers in Recife escaping the inquisition (FYI: Recife has the first Jewish Synagogue in the Americas, the Jews from Recife were responsible for settling New York). When the Dutch controlled Recife, the Jews were free to practice their religion, but when the Portuguese took over they were forced to leave (hence the migration to NY). She was one of the few people tried in Brazil for witchcraft during the inquisition. As the story goes, she was burned for being a witch (I think that she was sent to Europe for that) because she was using medicinal herbs and treating the local people. I am sorry that the story is fuzzy, but no one who has told it really has had good details.

We spent the rest of the day playing in the forest and hanging out with the community near the soccer field. I think we were the last to leave! That is probably a first.

If I were to buy a house in Recife, it would be in Dois Irmãos.

Mutirão Arruda

2007-06-10T22:34:00.000-03:00

I got what I deserved. I have been saying over and over that we need to organize the kids at the Mutirão so that they have something to paint and it becomes a more positive experience for the community. I was not aware that I would be the one "in charge." I was given about 6 rollers, some white latex paint, and a couple mostly empty bottles of pigment.
If you have brushes, cans, or rollers they will come.
It actually turned out great, but I did have a couple of moments of desperation. Sharing is not so easy when you only have one paintbrush and some paint. Who wants to share a brush? Plus, in the communities, everyone is fighting so hard to get anything they aren't going to give it up easily. Sometimes Sam brings stickers to the Mutirão and within seconds, they are gone. The kids don't care what it is; they just see someone giving something away and then they WANT IT. This is not specific to the communities, this is human nature, but the level of urgency seems different. I should also add that I do not have a lot of experience dealing with kids. I mostly work with the adolescent state of mind these days.

The kids did a great job and came up with a theme "Paz e Amor Na Comunidade" Peace and love in the community. Almost immediately after they came up with the theme, two kids covered another one in paint and almost got into blows over the roller. Enough said.
This is part of the reason I wanted to organize a way for the kids to paint. They get so wound up during the mutirão. All the new people, activity in the street (that isn't pagode), and painting on the walls. Here lies the difficulty. Spray paint is really expensive, and every time the kids get a hold of the materials we never see them again. There is not enough opportunity for everyone to paint so the kids get really frustrated.
We painted a little after the kids finished, but I was ready to head home after that. Sam painted an amazing Lampião (Northeastern folk hero) and we painted a graffiti garden. The garden was simple but fun. We were painting inside someone's wall and there was a birthday party going on, so I had some cake, met some nice people, and painted graffiti on their house. I have a strong feeling that this will not be happening when we go back to NM.

Critical Media Literacy in Brazil

2007-05-08T22:51:00.000-03:00

As an English teacher teaching abroad I have had to come to terms with my role as an agent for cultural imperialism The role of English in globalization, commerce, technology transfer, and the economy have made it the world’s second language—often with consequences for other culture’s first. If you are a native English speaker working abroad you have thought about your role in this system, or you are not paying attention.

I have found critical media literacy to be a way to work in this system and justify my work. Everyday here in Brazil I am astounded by the influence of English on people’s everyday lives. In the Brazil Reader (Levine & Crocitti, eds.), Roger Allen takes us on a journey through a typical American shopping mall where all of the ads are in German, the store names are in German, the movies are in German, you can only hear German pop songs on the radio, and all middle class students take German classes after school. Place this scene in Brazil and change the language to English. My students voraciously consume American TV series—they all watch Lost, Grey’s Anatomy, and what they can’t get on TV they download and watch on the Internet. They listen to the same American pop songs and can tell you everything about most American star’s lives. I challenge you to name one Brazilian actor.

The romance with all that is foreign has deep roots in Brazil. Nationalistic dictators essentially closed the country to foreign competition to support the national economy—creating the cult of “everything that is foreign is better.” There is still extremely heavy taxation of imported goods. Foreign = expensive = better. It is in this climate that American media thrives.

As an English teacher, it is great to have so much “real material” available to use in the classroom. When I ask them why they are studying English at the beginning of the year, they all repeat one after another, “For my future. So that I can get a job.” They might be thinking, “’cause my mom makes me,” but they know the right key phrases to tell the teacher. I am not sure where they are being programmed, but it has worked.

Tied in with this idea is the idea of learning English so that they can leave Brazil. There is a general feeling of hopelessness about the state of Brazil. More than once I have heard it called a small scale civil war. That is not an exaggeration. There are on average 38,000 people killed by firearms a year in Brazil—the highest rate in the world (or a close second depending on the year). On average these are poor people killing each other at an alarming rate, with desperation murders of the rich on occasion.

It is in this environment that I am attempting to teach a critical perspective of the role media plays in our society. Brazilian media violence makes the US look like Canada. You have to numb yourself just to leave your house after watching the news. I decided not to get a TV (to the detriment of my Portuguese) partially because I don’t know if I could leave my house after an evening of news. I have the strength to go about my daily life mostly out of blissful ignorance--An acknowledgement of my susceptibility to media messages.

My students are media-savvy. They understand the power of media to make them buy and desire things—they all have an Ipod or want one, but that does not change their ability to be influenced, and they admit that. They are critical of the role the US plays in the world, but they consume its cultural products without blinking an eye.

I teach them to play with media—to adbust, to see how media is made, to make their own movies, and while I do this work with the techno-savvy middle class, I am giving workshops about how communication works, communication as a human right, and empowering people to become communicators in the community. Being a passive media receptor is the norm when you have no access to media—except the talking box that is on all day long in every house. There are more televisions than refrigerators in Brazilian houses. Moving from receptor to creator is a giant leap, and when you get the opportunity to make media, what kind of media do you make? Do you replicate what you have seen? Do you look at something with a new eye? People that work in the free radio and community radio movement have noticed that as soon as people get on the radio their voices change and they immediately put on an accent from Southern Brazil—the accent they hear everyday on the radio and television. They only time you hear an accent from Northeastern Brazil in the media is coming out of the (normally southern) actor playing the maid.

This was supposed to be the introduction to an article on teaching critical media literacy in the EFL classroom. Somewhere in there I have to add Freire, a lot of references, and what all of this means in the classroom. For now I think that I will put it on my blog and keep thinking.

Mutirão Agua Fria

2007-04-03T22:06:00.000-03:00

This mutirão was not as amazing as the last one, but we had a chance to paint, hang out with some cool kids, and spend the day in a different community.

Sam painted the hands and some of the “stuff” coming out of the pointed finger. He also generally helped and fixed a lot of my part as well. See the completed image below.

I painted what has become my standard “pods and eyes” coming from the fist. The black is all spray paint! I finally put down the brush and emptied a can of black. Yeah! Now I just want more...

I have been drawing a lot of bird-like figures lately, but I haven’t tried to paint them on a wall yet. Sam made some new caps that should spray a finer line; we just have to figure out how to use them! I think I am going to start practicing using white on our wall. It will be easier to paint over when we leave.

This is the finished piece. A couple of people did the "futebol" goal and goalie in the middle.

My new idea is to try painting proverbs on the walls that work in English and Portuguese. I am thinking about starting with “a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.”
We’ll see how that goes. I have been thinking about how to paint, “what the eyes don’t see the heart doesn’t feel.” Any ideas? I like the idea of giving people something to think about. Of course, that will depend on the execution.
I think we will miss the next mutirão so we will have to go paint on our own. There are tons of places to paint; it is just a matter of getting a crew together and doing it.

Check out some of the amazing Brazilian graffiti on Flickr. Almost all of it is Sao Paulo/Rio, but you can check out our page to see what is happening in Recife/Northeast Brazil. I think there are only 16 photos of Recife in the Flickr pool...no comment about that.
Graffiti Brasil Pool on Flickr
Our photo page (minus a lot of images of people)

I have been thinking a lot about showing images on the Internet. We took most of the pictures of people off our page and made them available to friends and family only. If you want an invitation let us know. Media has changed so quickly and there are many questions about who has the right to take and show pictures of other people. Before, you took a picture and showed your friends, stuck it in a photo album, etc. Now you take a picture and put it on the Internet for anyone to see and do whatever they want with. I have been thinking about how I use pictures from the Internet (class work, projects, etc.) and giving other people access to my image and images of people who did not make the decision to put their picture on the Internet (especially kids). Anyway, something I have been thinking about.

"If the parents leave, who will take care of the house?"
--Galo

America's Next Top Model & Violence Against Women

2007-03-29T22:31:00.000-03:00

Listed below is a link to some of the photos on the crime scene show and the judges inane comments. It is unbelievable to read "she doesn't look dead enough," or "she is supposed to be beheaded and she looks like she is taking a nap." I guess we have to decide where we draw the line. I don't have all of the statistics to spout off, but I do know that here in Pernambuco in the first 24 days of 2006 30 women were killed. I think that in 2007 the statistics are similar.

30 women in 24 days.

This has really been on my mind lately because it is a big part of the media reform movement here. The media's use of women to buy/sell/exploit has been on the radar for awhile now, and yet little has changed. It isn't a beer ad unless a semi-naked women is holding the bottle. Women are products. It seems that the media industry commits so many crimes against women that Top Model's "crime scene" photos unveil the real agenda.

They will depict women in any way that is profitable to them.

It also seems like just one more crime the beauty industry commits against women. This is not a place where women are celebrated. They are scrutinized, demeaned, told they are too old, not thin enough, not pretty enough, etc. just to sell more products. Top Model sells at least one new product an episode through its format. I am sure that this is just another publicity stunt for the show in which media people and feminists get upset, and the majority of the desensitized public sits back thinking, "what's the big deal?"

I guess that is the question. What is the big deal?
The big deal is that it makes violence against women appear beautiful and acceptable
The big deal is that if a picture is worth 1,000 words, what did we just learn?
The big deal is that it is another media depiction of violence that makes the real thing "normal"
The big deal is that violence against women is real, and this is fashion mocking the reality of so many
The big deal is that right now thousands of women die everyday around the world from preventable violence while shows like Top Model tell the models that they don't look "dead enough"
The big deal is that how many women have died in Iraq? Where are their pictures? Where is "blown up by cluster bombs" crime scene photo? Or is that not pretty enough?

Write to the CW network (CW is a CBS company) and tell them what you think: feedback@CWTV.com

NOW's page on Violence against women
Crime Scene photos with judges commentary

Another blog snatch...

2007-03-25T20:45:00.000-03:00

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Blog Snatching

2007-03-25T20:21:00.000-03:00

Reading other blogs you always run across some cool stuff. I did this awhile ago and now I don't remember where I got it...

Pretty pathetic huh? I obviously have some traveling to do. Hopefully we will get over to Africa soon to visit friends and then something has to be done about Asia...that one tiny red country doesn't seem like enough.

I grabbed this off of someone else's blog (http://parisparfait.typepad.com/)
I think it is hilarious...

2007-03-19T21:43:00.000-03:00

I have been wanting to write, but I also feel that I have very little to say. I guess no one reads this blog (except you Ali) so it is really like writing for myself. I guess I am also a little afraid of sounding as whiny as I feel. I am stuck. I want to do so many things, and yet everyday the routine continues. The routine is okay, but something about being here really makes me want to do MORE. It feels like everyday opportunities are slipping by, and I don't have that much to show for my time here.

I think part of it is teaching. I feel like teaching sucks your soul. First of all, you are always working. I am either teaching, planning to teach, or correcting what I have taught, repeat. Second, it is emotional and makes you feel vulnerable. It is amazing what a group of whispering teenagers can do to my self-esteem. A bad class throws me for a couple of days. I am getting better at letting go, but the feeling of having taught a bad class sucks. I seem to have a lot of those. Third, you are constantly giving much more of your energy than you receive in return. At this point I have been doing this for awhile, and yet I do not feel like I am getting any better.

What to do? I have been contemplating auditing a class at the university, signing up for a gym ($$$), taking some kind of art class, doing art on my own, trying to get my research started, etc. I have yet to do any of it. My community media literacy project is dragging along, but we haven't really done much. Hopefully we will finally finish our first workshop CD so that we can move on to the next one.

Alright, enough whining for now. Tomorrow is the next mutirao and I am going to attempt to use mostly spray paint. Could be a disaster. Last night we went to Olinda and danced to forro and coco at Xim Xim da Baiana--very fun. We are also going to Petrolina for 3 days over Easter. I am really excited to see another town in the interior of the state. So, some things are looking up!

Saramandaia Mutirão

2007-03-04T13:11:00.000-03:00

The last Mutirão de Graffiti was the best we have been to so far. It was in Saramandaia, a favela in Arruda/Campo Grande. It is the favela where the guys who robbed our friend live. We went over to their house and drank coffee for a couple of hours waiting for everyone to get organized and then walked over the bridge to Saramandaia. It is always an interesting moment when you enter the favela. It is obvious that we are not from there and people STARE. It didn't help that the foreigner to Brazilian ratio was 5:4 that day. We wandered through the maze of houses and mud asking for directions along the way until we reached one of the highest points in the favela. They already had the turntables and microphones set up and were engaging the community in a dialogue about why they were there and the issues specific to that community. We were standing on the side in a narrow path when out of the corner of my eye a machine gun barrel appeared over my shoulder. I pulled the 2 other foreigners visiting out of the way as the police made their presence known.

There were two of them that crept slowly into the plaza guns drawn and fingers on the trigger. My heart started pounding as I tried to position myself behind the wall while keeping an eye on the situation. They crept around and put some guys up against the wall, searched them, and then crept off in a different direction. It was amazing how slowly they were moving--like a top secret spy mission in the middle of a group of people freestyling and playing music. It probably didn't help that the guys freestyling started talking about the situation while making siren noises. Apparently they came back later in the day and lined everybody up against the wall and searched them. This led to a dialogue about police presence in the communities and how any gathering of people has a negative connotation. Everybody was unfazed by the show of force and the day continued on.

We all broke up to find walls to paint on. The walls in most of the communities are not smooth. You are lucky if you get rough concrete that sucks up paint, rotten wooden boards, and if you are really lucky a smooth metal surface. I never am quick (or aggressive) enough to get a good wall. I ended up painting on someone's house/store with a friend from Ilha de Deus.

I would love to say that I painted this by myself, but it was really a combination of me, a friend, and Sam. I end up painting with brushes and some spray paint--I really have to learn to use spray better.

Sam has gotten really good. He painted the guy below and the crab. Everyone loves the stuff he paints. He painted the crab so quickly--I turned around and there it was.

This was such a good mutirão because there was so much going on. The DJ played music all afternoon, there was a dance presentation from a group in the community (photo), rosas urbanas and nacao break did a break dancing presentation, there was a roda de capoeira, and at the end of the night canal capibaribe (community tv station) played videos on the wall of the dance school. There was a very strong community presence and dialogue--exactly what the mutirão should be. Too bad it only happens once a month!

Voltei Recife

2007-02-21T15:36:00.000-03:00

Voltei, Recife
Foi a saudade
Que me trouxe pelo braço
Quero ver novamente "Vassoura"
Na rua abafando
Tomar umas e outras
E cair no passo
Cadê "Toureiros"?
Cadê "Bola de Ouro"?
As "pás", os "lenhadores"
O "Bloco Batutas de São José"?
Quero sentir
A embriaguês do frevo
Que entra na cabeça
Depois toma o corpo
E acaba no pé

After an amazing month in New Mexico I was trepidacious about my return to Brazil. My first couple of days here did nothing to ease that feeling and left me ready to book a return ticket for the next week. Our house/dog sitter had to deal with a couple of incidents that she told me about after my 30 hour journey. Sleep deprived I didn't take it so well. Luckily I got some sleep and some perspective before I booked that flight. It didn't help to pull up to my house and find the big wall at the entrance of our street cut down. It felt like my little oasis had been exposed and destroyed. The one place that is my sanctuary in the craziness.

After talking to the neighbors I am okay with it now. They are turning the house at the end of the street into a commercial space that will hopefully not bring too much traffic and more security.

I actually feel better about being here than I did last year. Maybe it is because the pressure of "Fulbright" is off and I can just do what I want to do (and am required to do by work). The city doesn't feel so intimidating, I feel positive about my projects, and I actually run into people I know on the streets! Nothing like seeing someone you know to validate your feelings of belonging. I am becoming very fond of Recife--there is so much going on here and so much to learn, I just have to get out of my house. Last year when I showed up right before carnival, it felt overwhelming and confusing (not to mention the whole ordeal with the airport and the dogs...). This year was wonderful. We went out with the "bloco" of my adopted family here "eu acho e pouco" in Olinda, danced to samba rock and hip hop all night, went to the "Tambores Silenciosos" at the Polo Afro, and of course danced frevo. All with the carnival cold. I got it last year too. I think we might have to stay another year so I can go to carnival just once without being sick. It definitely led to "Carnival lite" for me. Instead of going all day and all night, we limited it to "most of every night." We took a disposable camera (I learned from last year...) so hopefully we will get some pictures. Carnival is not an easily photographed event. I think I just have to accept that.

Ahhh Recife, de novo

The End is Near

2006-12-05T20:51:00.000-03:00

The year is rapidly coming to an end. In some ways this is a relief, and in other ways there are a lot of "what ifs" left hanging. I am constantly concerned about whether or not we are taking "advantage of the opportunity" of being in Brasil. Every night we stay home, I wonder if we missed something, every time someone tells us about something and we don't go I feel guilty, and every Saturday night at home is a missed opportunity.

It is funny that I expect something different from my life here. It is as though everything should change because you are in a different place, but it doesn't. Life is life. We go out here as much as we go out at home (well, maybe a little less). It is complicated to live in a big city without a car and deal with public transportation. All of the little things add up to making life just a little more difficult on a daily basis. And where do these expectations come from? Why is it assumed that living abroad means living some extravagant lifestyle that you never had before? I am here to say that, it is not so exotic. Most of the time spent is dealing with the bills, going to the grocery store, and trying to find something to eat for dinner. Occasionally there is a great samba party or art festival to go to...much like home when there is a great dance party in someone's kitchen.

We went to Arte em todo parte in Olinda on Sunday and it was wonderful. All of the artist's studios were open and we had a chance to go peek into all of the beautiful old houses in Olinda. The art festival in Olinda is based on Portas Abertas in Rio that gives people a chance to visit the artist's neighborhood of Santa Teresa. I had the opportunity to go to Portas Abertas in Rio and it was a constant flashback to that time as I wandered through Olinda. All of the houses have a beautiful facade, but appear to be quite small from the outside. When you enter, you realize that the house is enormous and the outside area is expansive. Most of the houses in Olinda have giant backyards full of trees and beautiful plants. Yet again, I want to live where I don't.

I love the idea of being surrounded by people making art, music, dance, etc. Olinda is where all of the cultural action is, and I have to take a field trip to get there. It is a choice, to live where the action is and commute to work, or to live where you work and commute to the party...it is a tough one. I am beginning to think that commuting to work is the way to go. If we stay here much longer, I am going to start looking for a house in Olinda. I should note that I love my house and it makes living in Recife wonderful. Okay, wonderful is a stretch, but I can't think of another word to describe it. We live in a lovely little white house tucked away from the madness about 5 minutes from where I work. We are centrally located, but far from it all. Coming home makes everything all right. I get to eat lunch at home (2 hours!) and it is just a quick jaunt from work to the oasis. Aside: 2 hours is the right amount of time for lunch. It is civilized. It is enough time to go eat at home with your family, pay the bills, get your hair cut, etc, but it is not as excessive as the 4-6 hour Spanish siesta. I don't know if I will be able to adapt to the inane 1 hour or less US lunch again. Lunch is the main meal of the day and should be treated as such. Long and leisurely accompanied by a wonderful juice (or whiskey).

We recently had friends living with us for 2 months and it made the house come alive. Now that they moved out we have two empty bedrooms and it seems like way too much space. I guess this is an invitation for those of you who want to come, stay awhile...We are now lonely, and want people to visit! (up to 3 months is fine, after that, we negotiate)

As always, Brasil has got the best of me..this is my third time here. What is it that brings me back? Something is making is difficult to stay away.

North to South

2006-11-20T21:10:00.000-03:00

We just got back from a wonderful (and cold) trip to southern Brazil. We went to the island of Santa Catarina. Beautiful, lovely, tranquilo, green, beaches, clear water, yummy fish, hiking, simplicity, NATURE are just a few of the descriptive terms to use.

The reason for the trip was a conference, I Congresso Latino-Americano sobre a Formacao de Professores de Linguas (I CLAFPL), where I presented. This was my first conference presentation and I had an unexplainable attack of nerves. Sam got nervous just sitting next to me. There were quite a few presentations happening at the same time so there were only about 15-20 people there. Despite the attack, things went well. People seemed interested in the topic (Critical Media Literacy: A 21st Century Teaching Tool) and I didn't throw up. They are going to choose 15 of the conference papers for a book so I need to get writing. I reached a certain point before the conference and just couldn't write any more. I am waiting for inspiration to strike in the next few days, if not it will be forced and painful. I made a few contacts, but mostly just sat by myself during the coffee breaks. I definitely felt like an outsider and it was difficult for me to start conversations with people--I have no idea why. Maybe it was the fact that we were all freezing.

Apparently, we showed up for the coldest November in 12 years and a serious "southern wind." (Which reminds me of the dead penguin we saw on the beach. They get caught in the southern current and are sucked up the coast). Of course, Sam was loving it. I had to buy a sweatshirt the first day. It was a nice change to sleep with blankets and feel a chill in the air. Of course, that meant no beach weather, but it was fine. We ended up walking on the beach and doing some gorgeous hikes through the mountains along the coast. I wish that I could post some pictures, but our camera is broken. I am going to keep saying that in every post because it kills me a little every time. It is pointless to buy another camera here ($$$), to get it fixed we would have to send it to Sao Paulo, and we are going home in about one month. Despite all of that, the idea of not getting any more pictures for the rest of the year is quite sad. We are planning a trip for New Years and my Birthday to one of the most beautiful places in Brazil. How can we not take pictures??!? We will figure something out.

Ahhh the south. Basically, I want to move there. Now. I told myself last time that I was here that if I came back, I would live in Florianopolis. Ha. It is becoming a very sad story that I want to live everywhere that is not Recife. I shouldn't be so hard on Recife because there are a lot of good things--like the Samba party until 4 in the morning last weekend...oh wait, that was Olinda. It is just the big city syndrome. If I can figure out how to make a living outside of the city, I would be there in a heartbeat. I was thinking about a doctoral program...of course there is no money in that! I was happy to get back to the nice perfect weather (70's and low 80's), my house, the dogs, and my students (ha). Actually, there are only 3 more weeks of school! I am excited for the semester to be over. Everyone is bored, including me. I can't seem to come up with anything interesting to teach so I am going to give them lots of activities for grades--quizzes, reading, writing, etc. Good way to end on a high note! Oh well. It will only hurt for a minute.

We are celebrating Thanksgiving at the school next week. How strange. It is just getting hotter and turning into summer--it just doesn't fit with Thanksgiving. Also, it isn't a holiday here. Just like the Halloween party we had. Just doing my little part for cultural imperialism. The same could be said for the weird fake plastic Christmas trees, lights, Santa Claus figures, and other Christmas crap that does not make any sense in a tropical climate but sells the "image" of Christmas.

So the moral of this story is that southern Brazil is a beautiful and a wonderful place to be a tourist and Christmas in the tropics should not involve all of the kitchy crap that goes with Christmas in the cold.

Favela 101

2006-11-02T13:35:00.000-03:00

We just got a little lesson in how things work in the favela. Favelas are shantytowns in Brazil. In Rio, they are up on the hills, in southern Brazil they are outside of the cities, and in Recife, they are everywhere. It is one of the characteristics of Recife. Unlike the US where you have the good part of town and the other side of the tracks, in Recife the good and the bad parts are mixed together.

Our friends live in an area of town where there are quite a few favelas around them. They are very involved in the social movements here in Recife and have connections with a lot of people in these communities. It is common knowledge in their neighborhood that they are part of the community and "considerada." Yesterday as my friend was riding her bike; two guys on bikes came up behind her, pushed her off her bike, and took her bag. She was fine, but a little dazed and trying to deal with the implications of that happening in her neighborhood. So this is where Favela 101 comes in.

Everyone that saw it happen knows who she is, the information passed quickly through the favela, and a group of guys immediately got ready to go after the muggers to the other favela. Going from one favela to another requires having the right connections and knowing who runs things. Going in alone is not an option. This group of guys got their gear and were heading into the other favela when they saw her talking to the police. They immediately called off the hunt and decided to lay low. Her experience with the police was completely unhelpful. They went into the favela (the one the guys passed through but aren't from) and searched a couple of people, made their presence known, made her feel bad, and left.

Her husband came home and put in the calls necessary to all of his connections in the different favelas involved (about 3 in the area) and found out the names he needed. He let it be known that they could keep the money and the cell phone, but they wanted the personal stuff back.
This morning they went to the area with one of their friends from the area "to be seen." They walked around and talked to people and of course let these guys know that they weren't afraid and weren't hiding. Important if they are going to continue to live there and not be a target.

In case you haven't figured it out, information moves FAST in the favela. If you live on top of 200 other people, nothing is a secret for very long. They met with some guys who told them to go to the corner bar and talk to 2 guys there. At the bar, the 2 guys told them to come back at noon, but only her husband could go. Too many people who aren't from the area are too suspicious. He went back and through a series of different people and conversations ended up in another neighborhood where a friend of theirs had her stuff (minus the phone and the cash). He walked in the house this afternoon holding everything.

You can imagine the stupefied looks on our faces. It is such a crazy system of who you know, who you can mess with, and who you can't. If it had been one of us, there would be no recourse, but because she is known in the community, it was completely unacceptable. Other members of the community have talked to the guys who did it and they now know that she is off limits and that they crossed the line by mugging her.

The nature of the favela makes it such a different network of communication and community than what I know. People literally live piled on top of each other separated by cardboard walls or anything else that creates a semblance of privacy. Some live in the "matchstick houses" out over the polluted canals. There are a labyrinth of tiny passageways and bridges connecting people together defining a territory that outsiders cannot understand. There are 3 favelas in the area and they are all run by different people and have different rules about who is okay and who isn't. Our friends were connected to two of the favelas, but now they have the right connections in the third one because of what happened.

Out of all of this, my friend is able to humanize what happened to her by looking at how desperately those people are living. What I came out of this thinking is how much courage is takes NOT to rob people. There are many more people living in the favelas who are hunting their next meal and trying to scrape by who do not resort to violence than those who do.

Lula de Novo Com a Forca do Povo

2006-10-30T09:34:00.000-03:00

Last night we went to Marco Zero to watch the election results and party. I guess it would be fair to say that we went to watch the party...All of Recife Antiguo was filled with people wearing red and yellow with flags everywhere. There were some small Carnival blocks, percussions groups, a big stage, and lots of frevo. Frevo is the beat that moves Pernambuco. Everyone knows all of the songs and the rhythm makes you want to jump around. It gave Sam a taste of what Carnival is like here...I am not sure if he is going to like it. The amount of venders that show up for the events is quite impressive--any kind of food and drink possible. My favorite was the guy walking through the crowd with a vodka bottle taped to an orange fanta bottle with the cups over the bottleneck and the bag of ice tied onto the end. The perfect party kit. There was another guy dressed up quite nicely walking around with a tray of cups of ice selling whiskey--very chique. Amazingly, enough we actually found some friends in the crowd and had a couple of caipiroskas.

Oh yeah, and the politics. Can't forget the whole reason for the party. Lula was reelected last night as president of Brazil (with more than 60% of the vote) and here in Pernambuco Eduardo was elected governor (I swear I don't know his last name! All of the campaign information just said "Eduardo." I wonder if it has to do with that scandal a couple of years ago...). This was the run-off election because Brazil being a civilized country (unlike another country that shall remain nameless) has a run-off election if the candidate did not win by more than 50% of the vote. Both of these candidates are PT (workers party). Lula is actually from the interior of Pernambuco so he has a lot of support in the Northeast. It is interesting to look at the map of Brazil for the October 1st election-- it is completely divided in half (Blue=Alckmin, Red=Lula) . A country divided?

The north voted for Lula and the south voted for Alckmin. I heard some people say that they were voting for Lula because at least he will think about development for the Northeast. Good point there. The north and northeast of Brazil are the poor neglected cousins of the rich south. The economy of the country is driven by southern industry while the northeast languishes in giant sugar plantations owned by the sugar barons of the past or giant companies. You drive through the countryside here and all you see is sugar cane. No houses, no agriculture, no food being produced, just sugar. The Movimento Sem Terra (landless farmers movement) has some shacks built alongside the sugar cane, but there is only work cutting cane for about half the year. The land reform movement never happened here and land ownership is still colonial with the plantation owners from the days of slavery still controlling giant tracts of land in Brazil.

I would also like to throw in a little theory of mine regarding the desserts here. I think that from the colonial days sugar = wealth and so that is why the desserts are so unbelievably sweet. Showing off your sugar, so to speak.

Sorry--agricultural and dessert side track

Lula has had some corruption scandals during his administration (nothing new in Latin America), but people really believed that the PT would change things. They promised a new Brazil, and so far, it hasn't happened. To be fair, 4 years is a short time to change such a messed up system. Lula has instituted some social programs like the bolsa familia and the cesta basica (basic food basket) that have helped many people get out of complete poverty, but without jobs they have no where to go. None of the corruption scandals has traced to Lula, but pretty much everyone else in his cabinet is dirty. Anyone remember the guy caught at the airport with literally $100,000 in his underwear? Small change. Also, apparently Eduardo had some sort of corruption scandal in the past. That happens all the time. Steal some money, let some time pass, run for election again. How frustrating.

Hopefully the next four years will bring better things for Brazil. The energy of the people working for change is amazing. That energy is moving all over Latin America...

The surfista

2006-10-22T19:27:00.000-03:00

I just can't let this go by without a comment. About a month ago Sam needed a haircut, and instead of old reliable we ventured one street over to the place especially "For men." There were quite a few clues that should have sent us straight out the door, but you know how it is--once you are in, it is hard to leave. We are sitting there waiting and I notice a sign on the wall that says, "One free shot of whiskey with every haircut." Then the tiny haircutter man looks over and asks, "Are you here for a manicure or a massage?" We explain that no, he justs wants a haircut. The haircutter man then whips out the book and starts asking which haircut does Sam want, "The americano? The desperado? Executivo? None of the established haircuts seemed quite right, and after pushing the americano quite hard he remembered that the surfista was missing from the book. He quickly decided it was the surfista that we wanted and proceeded to get to work. I made sure everything was clear and then left for other beautification rituals at my salon (yes, the bikini wax). Later that day Sam came home with shorter hair. It wasn't quite what he wanted but it seemed okay. It wasn't until the next day that the awful truth was revealed.

The surfista is the haircut that your brother had in middle school. The one that is long all around the top until it gets below the ears. The rest is shaved really close. A mushroom might be the best image. Sam has been suffering the surfista until yesterday when we went to old reliable and begged him to fix the damage. I really wanted to post a picture but our camera is broken. The surfista will only live on in memory.

The Media Project

2006-10-20T23:14:00.000-03:00

Last week during the Semana Nacional de Democratização de Comunicação Anderson and I presented our first media literacy workshop on critically analyzing advertising and propaganda. Anderson works with an organization called Ventilador Cultural (cultural fan) that works in the social communication movements training people in communication techniques, production, and now MEDIA LITERACY!! We did not have a big turnout (6 total), but it was a start. The whole format went well and with some minor adjustments, we will be ready to do it again. Of course after the workshop was over everyone said how interested they are and that we should give the workshop at their organization, blah, blah. Interested? Yes. Enough to come on a Wednesday evening after work? Not a chance. Some people have even asked to use our material in their own presentations (who didn't bother to come...) hmmm. Not sure how I feel about that.

On the other hand, we did get some more publicity by doing an interview on "Sopa Diario" on the University TV station. I have to say I was really nervous--not really about being on TV, but about being on TV in PORTUGUESE. How am I going to explain what media literacy is, the purpose of our project, what the workshop was like in Portuguese? Other than one obvious blank out moment, things went okay. Most of the feedback from people was that they were able to understand me...whew. We actually have received a few emails from people interested in what we are doing and collaborating on workshops. This feels like an important first step for getting things moving. The plan is to create a series of workshops on media literacy for the community and release the material as PDF's under creative commons. At that stage we would like to begin working more with teachers and NGO leaders to do some intense trainings with the eventual plan of creating a media literacy curriculum for the public schools. This is a seriously long-term goal that is going to require grant money as some point (so I can quit teaching English!). We are starting to make some connections, and the money is out there--we just have to find it.

The media in this country is so tightly controlled and controlling. The Brazilian world revolves around Globo and the 8 pm soap opera. Interestingly, Globo was started with the help of the US during the Brazilian dictatorship...there are still questions of US involvement. There was a British documentary made about Globo called something like "More than Citizen Kane" about the owner of Globo, but it was censored and the production was never finished. I downloaded it off of the amazing site www.midiaindependente.org/ which is a spin-off of the Indy media center http://www.indymedia.org/pt/. These site allow people to upload their own media. A lot of the videos about the social movements here in Recife are on this site. I saw a great shirt during the communication week that said (in Portuguese) "Hate the media? Make media!" Such an incredible movement of people. Is this happening in the US? I can think of a few groups in Albuquerque interested in the alternative communication movement, but it doesn't seem to be one of the major discussions around the water cooler. I guess it is not a big discussion around the water cooler at my job either--except for the 2 teachers that saw me on TV. But that was more shock than anything else.

There is another amazing movement called "Quem financia a Baixaria é Contra a Cidadania" This group targets how people are being represented on TV shows in regards to human rights. There is a strong tradition of local programs that display violence and poverty as entertainment while violating the rights of many of the people they show. In many of the poor neighborhoods, the need to be seen (acknowledged) is manipulated by these programs. The campaign targets the companies that finance these programs through advertising. They have been very successful at bringing this to the attention of the government and starting to create regulations (and consequences) for violating human rights on television. Their site is: http://www.eticanatv.org.br/

Public Space Invaders

2006-10-11T10:04:00.000-03:00

Public space. The visual environment that urban dwellers share and exchange information with on a daily basis. It is the foundation of our environment, where we receive information about ourselves and others, the intersection of place and self, and it is dominated by advertisements and messages of consumer culture. A space that should be dedicated to who we are as a people, how to work together as communities, and understanding cultural differences is dominated by private enterprise always thinking of new ways to sell you something. Why is public art illegal but a corporation can put its mark anyway with complete disregard of a person's choice of what to see and not see. They are deciding my visual environment for me. This domination of space is affecting me more and more as I venture into the world of public art/graffiti and critical media education.

We have a local park, Jaqueira, that is a lovely retreat from the chaos of the city. There is a walking path, a bike path, numerous playgrounds for children, enormous trees, a place for different types of classes, a tiny church, and a BMX bike track with jumps. As of last week it is now "Nestle Park" with giant Nestle signs everywhere. There are different Nestle products painted at every 100 meter mark, all of the equipment was repainted Nestle blue and white, there are ice cream signs with misters along the paths,nestle stuff all over the children's play equipment, and two kiosks where you can buy Nestle products and drink Nescafe. Is the government incapable of maintaining this park so it turned it into a corporate-sponsored amusement park? Was it just easier to turn it over without asking people if they want to see advertising in one of the few "ad-free" zones? Is that the trend of public spaces?

Boston Gardens has changed its name numerous time to fit its latest sponsors name. We see shows at the Journal Pavillion in Albuquerque, the convention center in Recife is Chevrolet Hall. What about the integrity of the place? The history of what it is and where it is going? Where do we make meaning from our surroundings if the only meaning is created by branding?
I just keep thinking of what society could be. What if our public spaces really were public? What if the visual images surrounding us were not based on consumption but on a desire for creation? We have followed this model without questioning why and now it is so far gone we don't even notice. How did it get so out of control? How did it become so ingrained in our mental environment?

Adbusting and culture jammers remind us that these displays are not fixed and are not permanent. They are created just like everything else in our urban landscape. Our urban environment perpetuates the cycle of consumerism and unsustainable use--culture selling culture back to itself.

Graffiti long disparaged by the official rule makers of our society is an expression that is unwilling to accept what the urban landscape is supposed to look like. While I have definite beliefs about the difference between tagging and graffiti, it is all attempting to make your voice heard in a society that has silenced everyone but the corporation. When the corporation gained its right to be "a person" it became the great censure of all of its fellow "human beings." Mass communication is not communication at all. It is corporations giving information and people receiving. Communication implies an exchange of information between both parties. Where is the exchange? How did I become relished to being a receiver with no outlet for my voice to be heard? Who makes those decisions? Why are we so afraid of taking back that space? Why are we not insisting that we have some right to decide what we see?

I think that for every "bought" space that a company occupies it should provide the equal amount of space to the community. Imagine a city where the community decides what its public space should look like. It would be varied, strange, and possibly offensive, but it would be real expression and not constant messages of culture bought and sold. Or better yet, the company should leave that equal space for trees.

Forró

2006-09-29T21:26:00.000-03:00

Sam and I are taking Forró dance lessons. Okay, stop laughing.

Forró consists of an accordion, a triangle and a drum. Okay, start laughing. It can get more complicated--full band, scantily clad dancers throwing each other around the stage, people descending onto the stage and flying around on wires, and pyrotechnics. The complicated
forró is "Forró Estilizado" or stylized forró. The basic 3-man band is called "pe-de-serra." I prefer pe-de-serra because the estilizado forró seems really sexist. I am basing most of this information of the exhaustive DVD collection of forró our friend Carlos has. I have watched hours and hours of all of the "greats" and been to a few shows. I can't decide if the dislike comes from the mostly naked women shakin it while the male vocalist fondles her ass or that the woman vocalist normally only chimes in for some moaning to accompany the male vocalist. There may be more to it, and I am sure that there is, but I have yet to see it. I prefer the old men in the Lampião hats with their accordions. Estilizado incorporates at lot of the lambada moves (yes, it was not just a movie). Lambada went out of fashion and forró became the thing--and still is.

Our teacher makes us "warm-up" to the same two Dido songs every class. What Dido has to do with forró I have yet to figure out, I also question how "warmed-up" we get pointing and flexing our feet for two Dido songs. There is a little side-to-side hip movement and occasionally a giant hip circle. Voila! Ready to dance forró. Our class is a strange mix of people. It is strangely comforting to watch Brazilians taking classes for what seems so natural for them. Everywhere we go it just seems like everyone knows how to dance. It is extremely thrilling when we are actually better than someone. This tends to only happen because we have been taking classes for a month and it is their first night. I take what I can get.

Normally the teacher shows us a new move and then there is a whirlwind of two minute dances and changing partners. I can't figure out how you are suppose to learn how to dance if you only do one move for two minutes and switch partners. W did this for a couple weeks and then finally asked if I could please dance with my husband. When we started dancing together things improved considerably. We are the only couple in the class so I don't feel too guilty about always having a dance partner while the other girls take what they can get. There was one class when the boys outnumbered the girls and had to wait their turn....I wonder if there is a dance class anywhere in the world where this happens.

The name forró comes from WW II (or so the story goes...) when the America soldiers were stationed in the Northeast they held dances that were "for all" and somehow with some accent issues it turned into forró (pronounced fo-ho). It looks like sexy Mexican ranchera dancing. The goal is to press as close to your partner as possible so that you move as one person in either a side-to-side or back-and front motion. We learned a new move tonight called the twist. Not a fan of this one. In couples dance position you twist (think 60's) and if things get really exciting you can click your heels together (think Kid 'n Play). The whole thing when done well it is quite impressive, needless to say that we are not doing it well. Sam is having to learn to lead for the first time in his life, and I am having to learn to follow for the first time in my life. A little give and take.

We have not ventured beyond the dance studio to see if we can make it in the real world. I think another month or so in the comfort of Dido might not be a bad idea.

Resigned

2006-09-25T20:04:00.000-03:00

There are two things that I have resigned myself to here in the Venice of Brasil: Dengue and being mugged.

Dengue is a mosquito born disease common in tropical areas that causes a high fever and makes your bones hurt as if they are being pulled out of your body. There are varying degrees of torture and if you take aspirin (or is it Tylenol?), you can die. Or so the stories go...they also say that this type of mosquito only bites during the day. I seriously doubt this one, but I take comfort in the idea because I am mostly attacked after dark. We sleep with a fan pointed at us in a mildly successful attempt to keep them away. We also purchased an air conditioner (that we have never used...electricity is expensive, but summer is coming). The purchase of the air conditioner was mostly because the parents were coming to visit. They have since changed their minds and now we have a giant hunk of expense looming over our bed. It also seems to attract mosquitoes. I now have a daily ritual called "shaking of the closets." Dark places are a friend to the mosquito so we try to make their little lives as uncomfortable as possible. I shake all of my clothes and other miscellaneous things in the closet at least once a day. On a good day, I get to dislocate about 20 of them--right into my bedroom. Sigh....

Mugging or "asaltado" is also a part of daily life here. It is also everyone's favorite topic. The middle class loves to make itself even more frightened (is that possible??) by telling the horror stories of someone getting asaltado over and over. Granted, everyone and their mother has a story that usually involves people with guns (or pretending to have guns) stealing their cars, their bags, their bikes, etc. I normally go about my daily life with little fear and a lot of precaution, but after a "storytelling" session, I have a hard time leaving my house for a couple of days. This used to happen more when I first got here, but now I just brush it off.

The other day I mentioned riding my bike in one of my classes and my students immediately started telling me, "Don't do that! It is too dangerous. They will mug you and steal everything. Don't leave your house! Stay home and eat chocolate." It makes me feel bad for them. Their lives are so insulated from reality. They go to school, their apartment, and the shopping mall. These are the only "safe" places for them and their parents.

I showed them a video about violence that some of the communities made and most of them had no idea that these communities existed. They had no idea what life there is like. They only knew the names from hearing them on the news in connection with violence. It is a weird thing to come to terms with--violence. Of course, it happens in the US, but somehow it is different. I have had my car stolen and broken into many times, and the police perpetrated the only personal act of violence against me. Here it seems more common ("normal" as my friend Claudia puts it) and more random. When I got here at the end of January, over two hundred people had been killed and not one person was charged with the crime. There are absolutely no consequences for crime.

The middle class are retreating to high-rise apartment buildings that feel more "secure." There are at least 8 thirty-story high rises being built in our neighborhood alone. We live in a construction zone and are starting to watch the buildings grow and the breeze diminish. When the next one gets a little higher, it will block the sun. Everyone is afraid to live in houses. When I tell people that I live in a house, they get a horrified look on their face...until I tell them that we have two pit bulls. I have to say that having the dogs makes me feel better, but I always feel safe in my house. Maybe it is the location, maybe it is the bars, maybe it is the pit-chi bulls; it feels like home. I think that is because of the hammock on the porch.

I have resigned myself to these things, but "graças a deus" I have not had to deal with them yet.

Venice of Brazil

2006-09-23T20:19:00.000-03:00

I guess I should explain the name of this blog. Recife is marketed as "The Venice of Brazil" due to the many rivers and canals in the city. Most people in Recife mock this as the "venéreo de Brasil" (venereal). According to a friend of ours who works in the field of water treatment, only about 20% of the city (total pop: 3 million people) is on the sewer system. And the rest? You guessed it. They even have a riverboat catamaran tour that they promote as a tourist attraction. I have thought about it, but then I smell the river from about a block away.

Nevertheless, at the right time, in the right light, and from a safe distance, it can be quite beautiful. In Recife Antiguo, there is a place with a nice lookout over the river with the colonial buildings in the background, and if you squint your eyes a little, it could be Venice--kind of. The buildings in Recife Antiguo are amazing, and they are just waiting for you to discover them for the first time. Some have been restored, the majority haven't. Their neglect makes them and Recife what they are. It is a trip back in time without fancying it up for the tourists.

Sunday is my favorite day in Recife. I think last week I said that it was the only day I like Recife--about 52 days of the year. There is no traffic and it is possible to ride your bike anywhere without fearing for your life. Bus fare is half price and the city just feels calm. You can breathe and feel the city breathing. Last Sunday reminded me of a warm September day in New Mexico. There is a feeling in the air--a feeling I can only relate to being in New Mexico during my favorite time of year with chile roasting, warm days, cool nights, barbeques, driving around with the windows open, and a slight cool breeze under the warmth of the sun. We rode our bikes down in Recife Antiguo to Marco Zero. From there you can see the reef and the port. The reef has a lot of interesting sculptures by Brennand and a path that you can ride your bike on that eventually leads to Pina beach. The guys in the rowboats will take you and your bike over there for R$1.50. We went to the artesian fair in plaza arsenal and ate a coxinha (chicken wrapped in dough shaped like a teardrop that is deep-fried--delicious!), and finished off the day by riding around and taking photos of graffiti and a quick stop at the bookstore. That is one of the things that makes life wonderful in this crazy town.

Tomorrow is another Sunday (yeah!) and we are going to paint graffiti at the mutirão de graffiti. It is held on the last Sunday of every month at a different neighborhood in and around Recife. The mutirão is one of the events that the Rede de Resistencia Solidaria organizes. Different members of the Rede host the mutirão in their neighborhoods. It is part of the community liberation movement. It is a chance to connect all of these communities together and dialogue about different issues. They are working on making their own clothes, running their own stores, starting community gardens, and creating self-sufficient communities that don't have to depend on the city and the formal economy to get by. The Rede works on a horizontal structure--it is not an NGO or an organization; it is a collective of people who want to see things change in society. I think that we are going to a neighborhood in Olinda...but I am not sure.

2006-09-22T23:04:00.000-03:00

Sam helped me make this. Do you think that he is bitter? I guess it explains how we ended up in Recife...

This is my third time in Brazil. I was here in 1999 as an exchange student in Forteleza, Ceara (north of here) for 2 months and again in 2000 on a surf adventure down south for a few months.
Unlike my previous adventures, this is my first time in Brazil as a "worker" versus a traveler. I am working at the US-Brazilian bi-national center in Recife, also known as ABA (to get away from the US association). As a worker, I have been able to experience another side of Brazil. It is interesting, but I have found that most of the pleasure of being in Brazil comes from being a traveler. All of the beautiful small beach towns, laid back beach culture, time to sit and bate-papo with people you meet... It is different living in a big city known for violence, poverty, and extremely smelly canals. Right now, we are debating the age-old question, "To stay or to go?" Like all of the age-old questions, there are no easy answers. The advantages and disadvantages to this experience, time, and place stack up and shift on a daily basis. The purpose of the blog is to "registrar" our experience here, observations about Brasil, and observations about us. I have been taking a course on Educação Popular at a local NGO, Auçuba, here in Recife and one of the most important elements is to write and reflect on your experiences as part of the education process. Teaching is a constant process of practice-reflection-practice. Documenting experience. It seems that many blogs come from this process. People outside of their environment and the need to somehow write it all down as part of the experience. It becomes possible to observe aspects of culture that become so obvious when compared to an "other."

Observation #1: Brazilian's do not touch food with their hands (for the most part). If you eat a sandwich, you should wrap a napkin around it. Pizza is a knife and fork affair. French fries? Toothpicks. Are Americans gross disgusting people who care nothing about the possible germ transfer between hand and food? I prefer to think of it as preventative germ transfer.

Observation #2: There are a lot of albinos in the Northeast of Brazil (I am hesitant to transfer this to the entire country--but we have been to various states in the NE). I think that I see an albino at least once a week. It is always quite startling because I have not seen very many albinos in my life before this experience. I have no idea why (genetics?) but I would like to.

Observation #3: I am surrounded by pregnant women. I think it kick-started the biological clock. Pregnant ladies and adorable children. Sam actually counts and not a day has gone by without seeing at least one pregnant woman. Maybe his biological clock it ticking too.