A Fila Andou!

Carnaval, Carnaval...where to begin? First - I am so indebted to a dear friend of my Aunt Kathy named Helio. Helio was there the day I was born - in fact, I got my first limo ride on the way home from the hospital thanks to Helio. He has been so gracious and giving to me and my family throughout my whole life. When he found out that I was traveling in Brazil during Carnaval, he arranged to have me stay with his dear friend/surrogate son Nelsinho and friends. Nelsinho is so thoughtful and feels a deep sense of responsibility for me - it is so sweet and overwhelming. Nelsinho is kind of the jokester/class clown of the group - not that I can understand any of his jokes, but they´re funny anyway! The really special thing about the group that I stayed with is that most people only knew one or two other people before arriving at Carnaval. You would never ever know this - after two days it would seem as if everyone knew each other for years.

There is something special about Brazilian culture that allows people to open up and love each other so quickly. In the US we often feel like we need to "get to know someone" before we can love them, which in a deeper, long-term sense is true. However, we miss opportunities to care about people and show affection in the here and now, even if we don´t know whether we will see them again or stay in touch. There is a correlation between how near-strangers can bond so quickly and how Brazilians talk about love. They actually have two words for love, whereas in English we only have one. Adore is what they use to explain their love for most things - friends, food, music, dancing, life, etc. Amo is reserved for deep, true love - like the love that you have for your family, or the love you have for the person you want to marry. Because "amo" is reserved for the deep, true, serious stuff, they are free to spread "adore" to everyone and everything, far and wide. An example would be this amazing guy Chico, who lived in Salvador and only knew one person in our group. Chico drove me to his house to let me use the internet...he drove me to the mall so that I could fix my broken cell phone...he drove others around so that they could make Carnaval arrangements...he was such a gracious person. I have been so touched by Chico and others like him who I have met here in Brazil.

I shared an apartment in Salvador with three amazing single gals, as well as the most adorable, lovely couple ever. The girls were named Tati (say "Tachi"), Claudia (say "Clauginya"), and Betânea. The couple was André and Carol. There were two other Carols in our group as well, staying elsewhere, as well as another lovely girl named Luciana. In the apartment right above us, there were probably six or seven guys, including Nelsinho. (Apparently there was a bet up there about which one would kiss the American girl first - that cost all of them their chances.) Our apartments had incredible views of the end of one of the parade routes. We could hear the music until all hours of the night and watch the action from the balcony if we needed a break from the streets. Most importantly, we were spit out right in front of our building after the parades were over, so we didn´t have to walk through the streets to get home, which was such a relief.

The business of partying at Carnaval is, well, serious business. Tati epitomized this kind of commitment - I think that this year was her eighth Carnaval in Salvador. She knew exactly which parades (blochos) and VIP parties (camarotes) she wanted to go to, and mastered the skill of networking/negotiating/bartering to ensure that she could gain entrance. Entrance is basically gained by having the right t-shirt with the appropriate design and logo. Here´s how it works - starting on Ash Wednesday, a year before the next year´s Carnaval, the t-shirts start going on sale. These on-sale dates continue throughout the year. Local people camp for days to buy the shirts at retail prices. Essentially ALL of the actual purchases of the shirts by the people who will attend these events occur on the black market. However, the black market is incredibly organized - it blew my mind. On last Friday morning, we drove to this stadium somewhere in the city, and all of the vendors had stalls set up where you could pick up the shirts that you ordered on the internet. Outside, there are cash sales and trading going on. At one point, Tati traded two shirts and some additional cash to get a shirt for the best parade - Chiclete com Banana, performing on the electric trio (sound truck) with the best sound.

There are hundreds (or maybe more) of events that you need a shirt to gain entrance to. Imagine - six days times four parade routes times maybe 30 parades per route per day, plus VIP areas lined up along the perimeter of all of the routes on both sides of the street. So - there are hundreds of thousands of people wearing these shirts at any one time, plus even more people in the streets because they can´t afford to pay - they call the crowded rowdy streets the "popcorn." The shirts add a collegiate sort of aspect to all of the fun - you sort of feel like you are on the same "team" as the people wearing the same jersey as you - not a surprising system to have developed in a country that is obsessed with the beautiful game - the dance, the opera - that is soccer.

Something that you quickly learn when you are attending Carnaval with hip, fashionable Brazilian girls is that you never leave the house in an unaltered shirt. The shirts are cut for men and are usually way too big. Some of the best times we had were using scissors to cut and tie our shirts into cute halter tops, tube tops, cropped tops, etc. Claudia was the master of this art form, as was one of the Carols, who works in fashion and actually used a sowing machine to create the perfect style. So adorable!

You might be wondering why I chose to attend Carnaval in Salvador instead of Rio. In Rio, Carnaval is essentially a competition between all of the major samba schools that parade in beautiful costumes, dance and play music, and then are judged and ranked. You can sometimes pay to dance with the samba schools, but usually you are in the popcorn. The VIP areas are really exclusive and expensive and not always where the young/hip/fun crowd goes. The streets in Rio are really really really dangerous during Carnaval - people die every year.

Salvador is where Brazilians go when they want to have a "Spring Break/American Pie" kind of Carnaval. (It was so funny when they used those words to describe it to me.) In Salvador, the VIP areas (camarotes) are amazing too, and a huge party - I´m talking 100% open bar with servers walking around, all you can eat appetizers, sandwiches, pasta, sushi...some had free internet access, massages, hair stylists...nightclubs inside playing techo and house...live bands inside and access to the beach...so so so incredible. But, the real reason to come to Salvador is that you essentially are the parade - you´re not watching, you´re creating the magic yourself! The music is completely infectious - the genre is called Axe (say "ashay"), and it´s a blend of energetic Latin sounds with African beats. A friend of a friend told me that I would feel so passionately about this music by the end of the week, and he was right. I don´t even know what I´m singing half the time, and I can´t imagine what it must be like for Brazilians who are constantly uniting in the meaning of this music. The lyrics make you feel so great: "I´m single!" "Smash everything!" "She is too good!" "I´m from all the world!" The raw energy in the blochos is the most exhilerating atmosphere I have ever been a part of. I felt so passionate about everything in front of me and everything in my life. I felt so good to be me - I felt so desired and I felt so much desire. I felt like I never wanted to stop singing, dancing, smiling, kissing, hugging, laughing...NEVER! I will carry that feeling with me and will never forget.

That´s all I will say. What happens at Carnaval stays at Carnaval, right?!

When in Brazil, do as the Brazilians do, and so I send love love love to all of you. xoxo, Katie

Eu estou com meu namorado. Ele e forte!!

So if there is one phrase in Portuguese that you cannot survive Carnaval without, it is this: "Eu estou com meu namorado. Ele e forte!!" - I am with my boyfriend. He is strong!! Everyone had been telling me about the Brazilian men before I arrived, but this situation is really not something that you can comprehend until you experience it in person. Carnaval is a perfect storm of carnal lust where every man on the street is out to kiss as many women as they possibly can. It is completely crazy. There is no asking. There are no introductions. You literally have to duck, block, hurdle...I feel like I am learning capoeira in mastering the skills of avoiding a sweaty embrace from an undesirable partner. I am not properly communicating the intensity of this one million strong kiss fest, but multiply whatever you are imaging by ten and you will be somewhere in the ballpark.

INTENSITY. That is the word that first comes to mind when trying to figure out how to explain Carnaval to all of you. Extreme. The most joyous celebration of life I have ever encountered. The most outrageous expression of human vice. The most devastating display of loneliness, confusion, poverty, and depravity. An unbelievable amount of wealth, pomp and circumstance.

Carnaval is a full-on Monet. When you step back and soak up the sights and sounds of millions of people dancing, lights flashing, music pumping, it´s hard to feel better about being alive. Up close it´s pretty different - it´s a mess. The rich are separated from the poor - and there are many many more poor people - in gated off VIP areas. You are safe once you are inside, but getting there is a different story. Men were literally grabbing me as I walked. As a woman, you don´t know if they´re trying to assault you or steal from you, but neither is good. There is an undeniable correlation between wealth and race - the legacy of slavery is extreme. There are poor black people everywhere - crawling in the mud trying to pick up as many beer cans as possible...trying to sell anything they can on the side of the street...being the human barriers around the parades that keep their family and friends, and others who are just as poor, on the outside. If you can afford to buy your way into one of the parades, you enjoy Carnaval in relative safety for several hours as you dance the parade route among the electric trios. It is an incredible experience - I danced danced danced!! - but I can´t ignore the faces of the people on the sidelines. The wealthy are literally parading their circumstances in front of the poor.

The dilemma is that you can´t cast your wealth aside - it literally is not safe. NO ONE has a camera at Carnaval. NO ONE has a bag. It is a crazy experience to know that, despite my intelligence and resourcefulness, I can´t make it here on my own. I can´t smile at the little barefoot kid walking by because she will see me as a target the moment I make eye contact. It´s wild. You feel completely surrounded by people uniting in their love for music, dance, and celebration, but you know that it´s the jungle and everyone is out for themselves, just trying to survive. Everyone is the hunter and everyone is the hunted. We´re hunting for very different things - money, food, sex, lust, power, safety, emotional stimulation - but we are united in our desperation.

So - I have a deep sense of personal conflict about my privilege, here more than ever. However, I know that I cannot reconcile these feelings here because I do not have the power to combat the streets of Salvador alone. For now, I need to keep thinking, writing, feeling, dancing, crying. I am enjoying myself more than I can explain - I will try when I write again by giving more amazing details about what life is like on the inside. I know that personal challenges lie ahead and that I am up to the task. I believe that I am strong enough to not take my life for granted.

Feeling loved and blessed. Miss you all. CARNAVAL! Beijos, Katie

Welcome to the Jungle

WHOA!! I am in the MIDDLE of one of the VIP areas (aka cameroces) in the MIDDLE of Carnaval!!!!!! All you can handle booze/food/internet access/misting fans/AMAZING music/sweat/love. xxxxxx

Into the Wild

The bus ride back to Fortaleza from Jericoacoara was wild! When I arrived at the "bus station" (understatement) in the pitch dark I met Kelly and Lou from San Francisco - I had no idea that there were other Americans around. They helped me onto the open air bus with gates as doors. We sat squished between our luggage when the lights went out, and off we went on a bumpy one hour ride through the sand dunes. We crossed over streams and rocked our way through the sand - the ocean was thrashing around 30 feet to the left. The girl sitting to my right had a head scarf on that was billowing in the wind, and with that image, all of a sudden it seemed like we were travelers from a different time, riding through the night in a covered wagon, or in a carriage pulled by horses...at one point we pulled to a screeching halt because there was a herd of wild cows blocking the road and surrounding us on either side.

I spent ´part of the ride in silence and observation, and the rest in conversation with Kelly and Lou. I was asking them where they had been, and where they were going. They were asking me the same. I realized that this kind of exchange is how travelers´ tales have gotten passed along over the ages - in dark taverns, while sharing a wagon through the night, while riding the same bus. On a human level we do the same thing that travelers did many years ago, before there were guide books and the internet - we ask questions, share stories, share advice, go where the wind takes us, and wish each other well. Kelly was telling me about visiting Jericoacoara 12 years ago when she was doing her solo trip through South America - just like me. The village was much smaller back then, and also Rio was just as dangerous - she recounted being held at gun point while riding a taxi. I felt invigorated by how strong and brave I was in Rio, and about how brave I feel now. All of this with the ocean waves crashing to the left, and the open fields and dunes lit up by lightning as far as the eye can see to the right, with the cows in the middle of it all. The best part is that I love where I was coming from and I know that I will love where I am going - CARNAVAL!!! Stay tuned...beijos, K

Pay-Off

I am in one of the most incredible places I have ever been in my entire life. It is basically utopia. This place is called Jericoacoara, and it is in the state of Ceara in northeastern Brazil. It's a little village about 200 kilometers north of Fortaleza that you can only access by taking a four wheel drive vehicle on the last leg of the journey. It is surrounded by enormous sand dunes and stunning rock formations. Until the 1960s or 1970s, it was pretty much just a tiny village of fishermen. Then the Brazilian hippies discovered it and brought a bit of a Jamaica vibe. Then the kite surfers and kite boarders discovered the amazing wind here. It's a tiny quaint village of colorful pousadas with hammocks everywhere...sand streets with kids playing soccer and locals setting up makeshift bars outside so you're never outside a five foot radius of a capiroska...people horseback riding on the beach that's at least a quarter of a mile wide, with beached sailboats and enormous dunes in sight...local artists selling handmade jewelry and clothing...crazy keyhole rock formations with kite boarders whizzing by...green rolling hills with wild horses, donkeys, and cows...it's Brazil with the friendliness and camaraderie you would expect, but there is no crime. And - I am the only American here in this village of 1000 locals and 2000 visitors. In fact, I am the only person whose first language is English. So - how did I get here? What brought this gem of a place into my life?

The lesson that I have proved to myself over the past few days is that you do indeed get back what you put into this crazy universe. I don't even remember what made me decide to book a flight to Fortaleza and check out northern Brazil. I think that my guidebook said that the nightlife was good - I don´t know. The point is that I set my mind towards putting in all of the grassroots effort that was necessary once I got to Brazil to figure out what places I should go. My guidebook mentioned Jericoacoara in a paragraph and didn't even reference any hotel names or reliable means of transportation to get here. There is no way that I would have known to come to Jericoacoara if I hadn't started asking Brazilians what I should do in northern Brazil. There was one girl in particular - I briefly mentioned her in my previous post, and I wish I could remember her name - who said that I needed to go to Jeri with a special sparkle in her eye - like "I know something that you don't know yet, but you're going to see for yourself and think of me." There were a few other people who said "how long are you going to be in Fortaleza? only four days? ahhh - Jericoacoara takes 7 hours by bus, it's too far, just enjoy the beach in Fortaleza and rest before Carnaval." But what was I going to do sitting around being lazy for four days? In my mind, the trip itself would be an adventure too. So I set my mind on Jeri.

When I got to Fortaleza on Sunday, this all became extremely confusing and complicated. The people at my hostel were uninformative and unhelpful. I walked around in the hot sun to at least 7 or 8 other hostels and hotels and ran into the same situation. To make matters more complicated, very few people speak any English in Fortaleza, and the English I did encounter was very broken. Most people gave incomplete information about bus times - like, they only referenced the timetable of one bus company. Nobody had any brochures for tour companies I could call. There was no information about hotels. I wasn't having much luck on the internet either because the one tour company that I found had a nonfunctional website. I saw one "tourist service" type company on the street that was closed because it was Sunday, and so I resigned to tackle the task again in the morning.

On Monday, there was another person at my hostel who said that I needed to walk to a hotel up the street to get information about the bus. So I set off in the mid-afternoon heat - after having shown the name in writing to three or four people and walking for 40 minutes, I finally arrived. The hotel sent me to a different kiosk outside (for a company that my hostel could have easily called) who had a bus in the morning (Tuesday), but no hotel information, and a return bus at 10:30 PM on Wednesday night that they wouldn't let me buy a ticket for in advance - "but it is before Carnaval, it will be no problem." So - I took their contact information and went back to the tourist service place - to make a long story short, I booked the first bus and the hotel through the tourist service and the return through the other company once I got to Jeri, but I had to beg - they were "sold out." Ahhhhh crazy Brazil! My American sensibilities were in shock and frustration! I have money to spend, what the heck is the problem?!?!

Haha, ok enough of that. The past two days have been incredible. I have been having pseudo conversations that I basically don't understand with Brazilians and Italians and a few others in a combination of English, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, and French. Hilarious. I have been hit on 72 times or so. I am actually starting to get a tan. I´ve been dancing in the streets to Brazilian acoustic surfer rock (-I am coining that term). I hung out with a large family watching a soccer game on a TV set up outside. I managed to order the same totally unappetizing dinner involving shrimp, pineapple, cream, and cheese two nights in a row. None of it was consumed. I also met a group of awesome Argentine guys today who live in Buenos Aires and who I can see later in my trip. The good times keep on rollin. The moral of the story - thanks Mama - is that you can do anything you put your heart to...sometimes it just takes a little bit of effort.

I love and miss you all. ciao ciao, K

Cariocas

Regarding Rio, and I have mentioned this point before - what a place of juxtapositions. Pretty much every person I met was absolutely splendidly warm, friendly, and life loving. On the other hand, I spent the entire week sort of always afraid of the people around me. It´s a hard thing to explain or even justify to myself. My experience in Rio is over, and I am safe - nothing bad happened - so maybe I shouldn´t have allowed an undertone of stress to accompany the joyous sensuous leisurely care free atmosphere around me. On the other hand, I know that I made choices in accordance with a bit of guard, and that´s probably why everything turned out alright.

I have thought to myself many times over the past week - I wonder if Cariocas are always a little afraid too? So I asked a few. The response was basically yes. They think about whether they will be robbed when they are at a stop light at night - and they roll up their windows. They think about whether their bag will be slashed from their shoulder with a knife. The difference between Cariocas and me is that they shrug their shoulders and go about loving life. They HAVE to not care because otherwise they would live their entire lives in fear. That has to be a part of the cultural context within which the laid back happy Brazilian attitude arose. Maybe I am so used to feeling safe and sound that I can´t easily reconcile with the absence of that feeling. Also - I am alone - and throughout the whole week I rarely saw a Carioca alone. The next time I come to Rio, I am bringing someone I love.

Despite being on guard, I met some incredible people this week. I have to thank myself for deciding that I would be open to introducing myself to people whenever it seemed mildly appropriate, and also for being resourceful with the use of the internet. In particular I should mention Rafaela, my aunt´s friend´s daughter, who I contacted a number of times prior to our meeting on Thursday night for dinner. I met her at her house in Jardim Botanico, and she took me to Leblon to a nightclub called 00 where we had a lovely dinner and delicious capisakes. 00 was a beautiful "Sky Bar"-type space that turns into a lively dance club later in the evening. Rafa is awesome. She works for Globo.com and, among other things, scouts Rio for good photo shoot locations. She is into the electronic music scene in Rio, and I invited her to join me for Coachella if she can make it to the US at the end of April. Rafa lived in Los Angeles for a few months when on Work Experience, which is when Brazilians come to the US to work on their English and make some money. She worked for a security company that staffs nightclubs and events, and also at Victoria´s Secret. She had some hilarious stories about getting around LA while living in Hollywood without a car.

I had been networking on asmallworld and made plans to meet up with Natasha, a Ukrainian partygirl who lives in Chicago. :) Natasha met me at 00, and then we decided to go to a club in Ipanema called 69 that a contact of hers recommended. This place was very posh - where the young, beautiful, rich and fabulous Cariocas go. Natasha and I got there a bit early, but the place filled up quickly. There were a lot of groups of friends there and two men eyeing us who were not interesting me at the moment. So, I just walked up to a cute guy and used the most original pick-up line ever - "hi, do you speak English?" followed by a big smile - and what do you know, I was talking to him and his friends in no time. One girl friend was giving me great recommendations about what to do in the state of Céara, which is where I am right now. I then started talking to Victor and his friends - Victor is one of those player types who sees an American girl as a bullseye on a dartboard - and so at this point I went to the ladies room.

In the ladies´ room, someone started talking to me in Portguese when I was washing my hands, to which I always reply "Perdão, Americana" - and since everyone in this circle speaks English, it became a yap party in the bathroom with everyone asking me where I´m from and whether this was my first time in Rio. I became fast friends with one girl in particular - nineteen year old Gabi, cute as a button in a pretty white dress but with lots of earrings and a tattoo in German across her entire back that said "Free Your Soul." This girl was a pixy and had more adorable energy that almost anyone I´ve ever met. She studied in London when she was sixteen and speaks English with an awesome British/Portuguese accent. We became fast friends and she was adamant (although pretty drunk, so there´s the flakiness that comes with that condition and with Brazil in general) that we would be hanging out all night and that I would accompany her and her friends when they moved onto a gay club called Le Boy/La Girl. All of her friends were straight, but the club was so crazy fun that I can see why it´s a destination of choice - especially for late night. (By the way, I have encountered no homophobia in Brazil at all so far, which is so fantastic.) Le Boy, the bigger of the two connected clubs, featured all of the usual smoke machines, go-go boys, glitterati, etc. Such a fun night.

On Friday night, I was still high from hang gliding and was stoked to receive a message from Clarice. I contacted Clarice, who lives in Rio, on asmallworld when I saw that she had held a birthday party for her best friend the previous week and invited everyone to join. I wrote to her saying that I missed the party but would love to get together while I´m in Rio. She ended up organizing a dinner on Friday night with her friend Juliana and three Italians from Rome who are living in Rio, and so she invited me to join. We met for sushi in Leblon, and it was SUCH a fantastic time. It was great to meet a girl like Clarice who is so open to meeting new people. After dinner we went to Lapa to a club called 40 degrees - four floors of fun, with a mix of pool tables, bars, live samba music, some hip hop when the bands were taking breaks, and Brazilian funky. Ok, this funky stuff is SO AWESOME. For all of my music lovers out there - you know who you are - check this stuff out. It pretty much all comes from Rio. I can´t wait to find good artists to download when I have the time.

On the music front, I ended my stay in Rio with a Jorge Ben Jor concert. This guy is a legend in Brazil - their version of Jimmy Buffett. He is from the 80s, but everyone knows the words to every song and is singing along, jumping, clapping and dancing. It was AMAZING!! I got there late after some annoying drama that I will spare you from hearing about, but I learned a good lesson - never depend on someone you don´t know and trust too much. I always need to know where I´m going and how to get there. It´s called making my own fun - setting my own destiny - freeing my soul. I love knowing where I´m going. And I love you all - beijos. Always, Katarina

Hang Gliding!

The favelas

On Thursday morning I woke up early to make my way down to the Copacabana Palace (the seat of luxury) to board a van that would take me on a tour through two favelas (the seat of poverty). My tour guide was Martha, who showed me and the girls from New York around Santa Teresa on Tuesday. Martha was so informative and had much to say about the history of Rio and the context in which the favelas evolved. I´ll let you read wikipedia if you want to know all about it. Martha does not live in a favela, but her father lived in one. She knows many people in the two favelas that we visited and is very well respected. The tour company donates money to the favelas, and in one case funds 80% of an elementary school there.

Somewhere between 20-25% of Cariocas (the residents of Rio) live in a slum. That is one out of every four or five people here. There is basically no minimum wage, and people with the lowest paying jobs would have to commute for hours to live in an affordable apartment - which is just not feasible. As a result, these people have constructed shacks in the hills, one on top of the other on top of the other. They have managed to connect to jerryrig the electric grid and use electricity from the city. They use only small, portable gas tanks because running gas lines in these constructions would be far too dangerous. They also connect themselves to the city´s water and sewage lines, but conditions are not completely hygienic as you may imagine. The vast majority of the alleys are not streets that are recognized by the city, and therefore most residents do not have street addresses. Imagine - how do you apply for a job or get a phone number without an address? There are schools, but only enough money for the children to attend for half of the day. They are on their own for the rest of the day when their parents are hard at work. 98% of residents of favelas are hard workers - they just can´t afford to live in a real apartment, on the street.




In Rocinha, Rio´s largest favela, I was surprised to find a main shopping street with places to buy food, clothing shops, a bank, etc. They have moped taxis, which are the easiest way to get around because you can´t fit cars into the vast majority of spaces. They have satellite dishes and can watch television. This kind of moderate modernization is not the case in other, smaller favelas. Make no mistake - all of these people are very poor, and there is basically no police presence. Order is kept by the leaders of criminal drug factions. They say that a favela is the one place where you will never be mugged into Rio because the drug lords (and their AK47s) won´t allow any unauthorized misbehavior. There are three main organizations that control the distribution of drugs in Rio, and fighting occurs between gangs in neighboring favelas, and also with the police. There are places in Rio where you cannot go at night because you can get caught in the cross fire. Martha controlled our photography very explicitly on the tour - there were places we could take pictures, and there were places where we could not. That is all I will say about drugs - you can read more if you choose - because my experience (and the experience on any tour) did not involve any sight of them.




When we first arrived at Rocinha, we were greeted by local artists displaying their work - paintings, jewelry, bags, and even one man who had raised money to record his samba music on CDs. Most of the artwork was done by children in the favela. This stuff was irresistible to me - how do you turn down a beautiful, colorful painting of Rocinha with Rio in the background from a nine year old artist, Alessandro, standing in front of you? Later, I met Nicholas, who was maybe seven years old. He had learned a little bit of English so that he could better pitch his work: "This is me, and this is my sister. This one, 30. For you, 25. This one, 25. For you, 20." These children are so talented, so hard-working, and so proud. They are bringing home money for their families. What seven year old do you know who has to worry about that stuff? The comparisons to Sophie and Thomas Joseph and Vada, the oldest of my little cousins, are hard to resist and totally heart-breaking.

Here is the thing - I saw many many people who were so happy and so full of joy. They play soccer and capoeira too. They dance samba in the streets. They have Carnaval. One man wanted to pose for a picture with a mannequin and a goofy smile. Everyone I bought something from gave me a smile, a hug and two kisses. It was a truly special experience. I am completely overwhelmed by the absurd distribution of the world´s resources that have put me in a position to even be taking this trip. I don´t even know what to say about it. I am trying to figure out how I justify all that I have to God. At this stage I am feeling almost embarrassed to admit my own privilege. There is much to grapple with but I know it is a process and I know it has begun.

Rio is definitely a place of juxtaposition, everywhere. Mountains and sea. Rich and poor. I had the wonderful opportunity to go hang gliding yesterday morning over all of Rio. Chico was my instructor - we ran off the edge of a mountain together and soared for fifteen minutes over the forest and ocean before landing on the beach. Just beyond the forest is Rocinha...to the left, Christ the Redeemer...mansions with swimming pools are just below us...it was so surreal. This was one of the most enjoyable 15 minutes of my life. Everywhere, I´m just soaking it all in. Next time I´ll tell you about some of the fantastic Brazilian friends I have made.
Til then, beijos, xoxo, Katarina

Olé Olé!

Well! Much has happened over the past two wonderful days. I am amazed that it hasn´t even been one week since I left LA. Time is going so awesomely slowly. I am very proud to say that I have tackled the bus AND the metro AND have managed to charm a few more taxi drivers. AND - Samba!! YES!! My hips and my feet keep wanting to slip into a salsa, but I´m getting the hang of it. I even managed to get a Brazilian guy to admit that I am a good dancer. Take that! I ventured into the nightlife scene alone and made friends immediately when Rubens from Sao Paulo and Oliver from Hungary/NYC sent over a napkin that said "Are you alone at this place? Would you like joining us?" Brazil is an amazing place - so charged with friendliness and fun.

Wednesday started off with an adventure as I tried ventured off on foot to find a branch of Bradesco (a bank) with a caixa (teller) - this task proved to be more challenging than I thought. I stopped to get an açai with guarana (which I have had at least once per day - this stuff is so refreshing and incredible) - and this little boy walked into the juice stand, barefoot, begging for money. I nodded no, mostly because I didn´t want to open my bag in front of him. He asked two other people, who also said no, and at this point I felt so sad for him. I walked over as I got up to leave and offered him my unopened water bottle. He refused - he only wanted money. I still don´t really understand his refusal. Here is where I made my mistake - I responded in English, and now he knew I was a foreigner. He followed me for three blocks! Granted it was a busy city street, and this kid could not have been older than eight, but I was freaked out! I had such mixed emotions - the utmost sadness and heartbreak for him combined with my only relative control over my own safety as a young female foreigner who doesn´t speak Portuguese in a city with a lot of crime.

On Wednesday I went to a soccer game at Maracanã! WOW!! I have never experienced a situation where people come together to so fiercly believe in something - it´s way more intense than church. These fans did not stop cheering and singing and dancing and waving their flags throughout the whole game. The way people feel about soccer, and about "their" team, has something to do with the very human need for family/clan/community. I haven´t figured it all out yet, but it´s really fun to watch.

I am behind on this blog - next time I will write about my tour of the favelas - the most incredible thing I have done in Rio - and about soaring over the Tijuca National Forest. It´s called hang gliding :) xx, K

Lost in Translation

I am doing very well but really need to make a move on learning some more Portuguese. I have a little language book that has served me well in a few cases, but in all honesty my efforts have been pretty weak. Some key moments -

• Figuring out how to transfer a large sum of money into someone else´s bank account - that someone booked some accommodation for me and others - with no English speaking tellers. Depositar is my new favorite verb.
• Having conversations with Nelsinho, one of my hosts, on the phone, that involve him saying only three English words: "Katie! Please...please...please...please" and "calm-calm-calm-calm." Hilarious.
  
• Figuring out how to successfully explain where I´m going to seven different non-English speaking taxi drivers in the past two days - in a city where taking taxis ain´t the safest thing you can be doing!

Had an awesome time with one of these cabbies yesterday. Was on my way home from a rainy day of shopping in Ipanema and ended up in the taxi of this older man - friendly, grandfatherly type. Neither of us spoke a lick of the other´s respective language. But we managed to speak of many things. (Or, rather, he did and I managed to vaguely follow.) He asked what hotel he had just picked me up from, and I eventually understood and was able to answer him. Now at this point he had turned around a few times while driving, and I was getting nervous about his attention to the road. Maybe he sensed this?...because he immediately started making jokes about crazy drivers, going "vroom vroom vroom!" So funny. He then wanted to know whether I was American or English - and was relieved to know that I wasn´t English (or French) because they are [and then he sticks up his nose]. We get a good laugh together, and now he´s on a roll - wants to see what else he can say that I will understand - and so he starts reciting the names of singers and bands: "Ray Charles!" - "Yes, yes!" We both nod and laugh. "Stevie Wonder!" "Yup, he´s great too!" We both nod and laugh. "Pat Ben-e-tar!" "Hahahaha!" This is so cute. "The BeeGees!" At this point I´m dying laughing. He proceeded to insert a story about some sort of familial connection he has with one of the Brothers Gibb. He then returned to the band game for another ten minutes. It was so awesome.

I´m having a phenomenal time - jam packed itinerary as you can see. Wonderful sightseeing today in Santa Teresa, a semi-dangerous hilly artist community - was glad I was with a private tour guide, Martha. The colonial architecture downtown was beautiful. Tonight: time for some samba dancing!

Kisses (one on each cheek). Beijos, Katarina