ipanema...

for a month. Settling into a new atmosphere, a different vibe, a different beach. For better or worse, I'm not sure yet. But the weather sure is nice on this side of Arpoador.

ipanema...

for a month. Settling into a new atmosphere, a different vibe, a different beach. For better or worse, I'm not sure yet. But the weather sure is nice on this side of Arpoador.

Cell Phone Etiquette.

I noticed this at both my conference in Itapaiva, and again yesterday at a seminar on health information...

People in Brazil answer their cell phones DURING other people's presentations! It's bizarre. Abruptly, they'll pick up their phone and start having long, intimate conversations with whoever is on the other end-- sometimes it's about groceries, sometimes about work... but regardless, I'm not sure, but I guess it's not considered rude here to use your phone like this.

Apt. Hunting.

This past week has been a scramble trying to figure out places to live starting from December 1. I've looked high and low for places, trying to find the right location, price, etc. but in Rio-- it's hard. After a month in Copacabana, I will be moving to Ipanema through the generosity of a now-friend, but before a distant connection. The apartment is beautiful; peaceful, with lots of light, and all to myself. It will be bliss. The only problem-- no Internet.

After November, I've been trying to look for places all over, from Flamengo to Botafogo to Humaita to Leblon.... it's been tough, especially with summer right around the corner.

I'm crossing my fingers that I make some decisions by the end of the week.

Getting a CPF.

After just a few days of dealing with some paperwork and bureaucracy, I am finally a number in the Brazilian system! This is great!

A CPF (Cadastro de Pessoas Fisicas) is like the ultimate social security number/identification number. It's used to get-slash-do almost anything and everything-- buy tickets online for concerts, a fan at a store, register with the bank, buy a house.... the list goes on. In some states and cities, like Salvador, a different number is used that encompasses other mandatory identification numbers that are given out by the Federal government, but in Rio-- a CPF is usually the quickest and easiest way to get something when documentation is necessary.

My route to getting a CPF was a little too easy. I just went to the bank with my passport (Banco do Brasil in Copa), and the lovely man at the counter asked me a few questions about my address, date of birth, phone number, and why I was in Brazil (the last one was for his curiosity, I think). After that, I took a number, waited in line, and then paid my 5-something reais bill to obtain a receipt of payment/protocolo to take with me to the nearest Federal Police, in Ipanema.

A few days later, and after one failed attempt of trying to get my CPF a little too quickly (they need at least 24 hours to process your application), I picked up my number this morning.

No paperwork, nada.

But for those of you who may want to bring back up information, I made sure to have copies of my passport, my parent's passports, birth certificate, and information on my stay as well as my address. None were required.

President Lula at Fiocruz.

Today Lula was at Fiocruz, not exactly sure why. But interesting to note: the security guards and police officers that patrol the campus all had little white gloves on-- apparently it's part of their "formal" wear, which is only reserved for the highest of officials. Case in point-- the President of Brazil.

feeling better...

But getting over any sort of bacterial infection takes time. Today was a good day; I was able to understand 80% of what was being spoken to me. I couldn't really completely respond, but I think my hears are finally adjusting to the thick accents of the Cariocas. And those classes; they're helping.

Snapshots.

getting sick.

There's nothing, and I repeat, nothing, like getting sick in another country that makes you crave your home. No amount of pseudo-maternal care, warm soup or some comfort food thereof, or blankets can help. Seriously. After a not so pleasant greeting of food poisoning after an evening of dining with a new friend in Brazil, I spent the majority of my weekend near the bathroom, curled up in a ball on my bed.

Not fun.

Surfing, and other thoughts.

Yesterday was my first surfing lesson. Not easy, but I know definitely have a taste for why so many people do it. I think I might get addicted, pretty quickly....

Grocery Stores in Rio.

Zona Sul: by far the most expensive, but also has too many locations and too convenient hours. It's the only grocery store you'll find in Ipanema.

Horti Fruti: Of all the grocery stores, I like this one the best because of its wide selection of fruits and vegetables. It also always has a section with fruit juices, and a scale for weighing yourself. I know, strange, but convenient.

Pao de Acucar: Seems similar to Zona Sul, but at times more pricey. The store has a better layout though.

Mundial: By far the cheapest, although the one in Copacabana is a nightmare to go through. I suggest that you get to the one in Botafogo, and buy all of your dry goods here-- I don't know if I would attempt the fresh foods and perishables. Although milk is pretty cheap here.

My routine is to buy fruits and veggies from the farmers markets, and then supplement with things from the grocery store. Casa de Pedro-- there are MANY locations in Copacabana-- has cheap arab bread, flour, rice, nuts... things that you need in bulk, I would go there. For good jam and such, try the organic farmers markets, or just go to Mundial.

Stay away from stores like Mundo Verde, which are too expensive and sell nothing special over the others.

Bread is quite expensive in Rio, so if you can make it that's great! For the rest of us, I actually find that buying a baguette (at Garcia and Rodrigues) or the Pao Frances is cheaper than buying a loaf. I also survive off the flatbreads.

Water is also incredibly expensive, so if you can buy a water bottle before you come to Rio, and find filtered places to fill up, it's probably your cheapest option.

Learning Portuguese.

It's been two weeks, I'm onto my third, and while I can now struggle through checkout lines at the grocery store, pay my bills at restaurants, and get around from place to place, having a lively, engaged conversation is still a struggle for me. To be honest, I've had it easy. My roommate speaks English, my advisors at Fiocruz speak Portuguese so slowly to me that I can decipher the Latin roots that make words similar to English, and I have yet to meet a friend who can't speak English. (Scratch that-- I made one friend who knows NO English.)

Regardless, if there's anything I've learned about traveling, it's that the key to understand a city, a culture, is usually through their language. So I've realigned my efforts to improve my Portuguese in as rapid a manner as possible. Starting from today, where I can help it, total immersion. I've enrolled in a language course at one of the public universities here, UFRJ, and enlisted the help of a private tutor. This coupled with speaking in Portuguese as much as possible whenever possible-- I'm hoping I can start having decent conversations by December.

For those of you interested in learning Portuguese in Rio, here are a couple options:

• UFRJ has Portuguese courses for Foreigners, which are offered as intensives several times thorughout the year. I was lucky to snag a spot in their last module, which starts on Thursday and ends in December.
• Here's another one at UFRJ that I'm not familiar with.
• PUC-Rio is supposedly the best place to take courses on Portuguese. Alas, I wasn't able to register or come in August, which is when one of their courses starts. Make sure to plan ahead for this one-- they ask you to apply well in advance.
• PUC-Rio also has courses for foreigners through their CCE department. I'm not too sure about these, but some of them are held in Barra, very far from Zona Sul.
• UERJ, the State University here, also has some courses on Portuguese.

a little sun, a little drink, a little this, a little that.

After a whirlwind of a week (figuring out a Portuguese language course, going to Itaipava for a resarch conference, another Saturday in Lapa, and finding time to figure out my research admist it all) Sunday was a well deserved break.

It's an understatement to say the city changes when the sun comes out. It would be more appropriate to say that it transforms-- the sun has some sort of magnificent effect that makes the people and the buildings sparkle; everyone is out and about-- running, skateboarding, biking, playing futebol-- it's a surreal experience that's a bit hard to put into words. But what really shows when the sun comes out is the true nature of Cariocas. Tests the next day? Forget it. Go to the beach. Got a huge project due? Don't worry, it'll figure itself out. The people here, and their ability to find time to appreciate life-- it's something that is rare to see in the US, especially somewhere like NYC, where the energy of the people is always on high and everyone is accelerating, trying to get somewhere, something, somehow.

The massive overgeneralization of the people of Rio (take for instance, my fellow research colleagues, who are all studying intensely for a huge entrance exam for Fiocruz next week-- I'll explain more later) is not to demean other places, people. It's just an observation. Being in the city also makes me realize how much on overdrive a person can get-- sometimes it is important to just sit, relax, and watch things unfold.

So Sunday for me was filled with a day at the beach across from the Fasano, a quick jaunt through Ipanema scouring a few boutiques, then off for a mini trip to Santa Teresa. It's a beautiful, bourgeious bohemian place with an amazing view of the city, and a neighborhood feel that's hard to find in Zona Sul. Drinks with friends at the corner bar, watching youngsters run on the streets... talking about politics, fashion, linguistics and life.

Nuances.

Too many things happen every day to be able to fully internalize, but each day, I am becoming more comfortable with Rio.

After Monday's melancholic ending, Tuesday ended up being a fantastic day. I found my favorite neighborhood in Rio (I think)-- Jardim Botanico. It's like a small oasis in the chaos and hubbub of Rio; it reminds me of home with the lush trees, shaded streets, and small shops that line the main street. If only I could find a place to live there. A justaswonderful place, Humaita, is slightly less posh, but a little more in my price range for rent. I've started running around with my head cut off, trying to find an apartment for rent there, but as the high season is just around the corner, it's becoming incredibly difficult to find a place to stay. I've really got just one month to find housing-- I'm hoping something comes up by then.

Ah-- back to Monday. Yes, I walked around Jardim, Urca, spend some time at Praia Vermelha (the Yellow Beach) at Urca, and had a lovely--albeit choppy-- conversation with a university student and a 14 year old. Neither spoke English, but we had a good time conversing about simple things. It really takes speaking in another language to realize how much words help you express your thoughts and emotions. But it also takes speaking in another language to realize how far you can get with hand gestures and body language.

Small feelings of loneliness.

It’s strange how much one can miss home in just a matter of days. On day one, I was completely fine—totally immersed in the character of Rio, finding everything so fascinating. But I’m starting to feel that longing—homesickness—that one gets when the dust finally settles and normalcy begins. The language issue becomes more and more apparent every day, and while I can get by with my fluency and finish my daily tasks, I want to be able to have conversations and understand everything that’s going on around me. I know it will happen, and it takes time, but I’m impatient. I think that’s why maybe the Fulbright in Rio will be good—the people here seem to really understand the important of relaxing when there is no need for work.

As someone who craves alone time, being in Rio—at these early stages—can be somewhat of a blessing in disguise. Walking around Arpoador, Botafogo, Flamengo—idyllic moments when I can catch a group of cariocas sipping sucos at the nearby lanchonette, hardcore surfers trying to catch a few waves, families shopping at the mall near the praia. Soon, hopefully, I will be one of those people, laughing and enjoying myself, but right now, it’s incredibly difficult to make friends.

No one tells you the feelings you get when you aren’t surrounded by the people who you love. Each day—each hour—I grow more respect for my friends who moved from a far to the US, my parents who immigrated in their twenties, and all those who I pass on the streets in Manhattan—but don’t really acknowledge.

My first week.

As I write this, there are people out and about, from the streets of Botafogo to Leblon to Lapa. It's been an exhausting, but thrilling five days, but I'm glad to know that after I write this, I can pass out on a bed (a real one! it finally arrived!).

Today led me all across Rio-- after a quick lunch in Leblon, at the new shopping center (I ate at a per-kilo restaurant, which was both yummy and relatively inexpensive), I headed to Gavea, to see if I could enroll in a PUC-Rio course, Portuguese for Foreigners. While the trek was a total fail, I was able to befriend a lovely university student, who I'm hoping I'll be able to meet up with soon. She's going to Sao Paulo for the weekend for some sort of huge music festival--renting a house with friends, the whole deal. She's a complete Ipanema girl.

Registration with the Federal Police.

Copy all your passport pages. No, get them all notarized. Take a cab to the airport. No, take a bus. Get to the airport at 6 AM. Get there at 11 AM.

Arghhhhh. Too many viewpoints on how to properly register with the Federal Police, a mandatory act for anyone that stays in Brazil for longer than 30 days.

If there's one things I wasn't looking forward to once I got here, it was this particular piece of business I had to attend to. I heard tragedies of fellow Fulbrighters being turned away because their papers were crinkled; staying at the airport for nine hours; finding no one who understood English or their untrained Portuguese.

So rather than waiting till the last minute, after spending a day of loveliness walking around Ipanema, Arpoador, and Leblon (see picture above), I got all my paperwork ready and headed to the Federal Police yesterday.

The first day.

I’m here. I’ve arrived. And it at once feels so familiar and yet so strange. The first leg of my flight, to North Carolina, was straight out of a short story by David Sedaris. I sat next to a wonderful, but broken woman whose husband separated from her two weeks prior to embarking on a lavish, all inclusive cruise that they had been planning for over a year. So there I was, munching on my one carrot because I felt so guilty eating my delicious home cooked Indian snacks in front of someone who probably couldn’t even fathom eating, let alone something rich and sweet like a ladoo, when she turned over to me and asked me for my thoughts on life. Me? Thoughts on life? I directed her to read Eat, Pray, Love. All my guidance for helping single middle-aged women find solace comes from that book. It’s my only experience on the matter.