Monday, April 13, 2009
Easter Monday, home from school for the morning
I have a challenge going with Alex, one of my good friends here - we're writing poetry every day of April (though I'm sitting at 2/3 days). Lots of fun, nonetheless. Writing and memorizing my faves helps beat the dullness of school. Privacy is not as holy as in Canada, so I often get asked what I'm writing. I've taken to saying I'm working on a novel. It's sort of a fun thing to say, and it also makes me wish I was being truthful. I had the urge for a few days, to make April the equivalent of Manuary. In January, though, I might have better odds for respectable facial hair.
This day, I'm staying away from school for the morning, since I had a sub-ideal night. I had rough stomachaches and didn't manage to fall asleep until three-thirty. In my awake-but-half-dreaming state I wrote that "He used to use his long fingernails (like splinters) to shoplift. It looks bad on me, and now it really looks bad for him". It made me chuckle this morning since I have no memory of writing it down.
Kay, over and out,
Dan
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
aitz... the post-swim post
I can only recall one workout session in the pool since I quit the swim team. If that was after grade ten, it makes it three years. Right now, as far as hardcore-ness goes, my body's only used to medium-sized runs and sleep deprivation. And heat. But not swimming in hot water. I only swam about a kilometer, but that did me in good, gave me a nice sailor's stagger toward the changing room. Once I stepped into the shower, I sat down, cross-legged, under the falling water, my back braced against the wall. I didn't trust my legs to keep me off the ground. The feeling of my head expanding and shrinking in time with my heartbeat – first my temples, then the back and behind the eyes –started going away. My fingers were still tingly when I got out to chat scheduling with the coach (which in Portuguese felt like a lot of effort), and my upper lip was salty again.
Then I took the lovely Piedade bus home, after having perhaps the second-best soda of my life. (The best one was certainly at the football game, in the sweltering stadium, chanting about the Nautico mascot-rat teaching us his dance). The bus is always lovely here, crowded, hot, hard to keep your balance on, but interesting every time. There are people to watch, to talk to, streets and stores to recognize, windows to hang your head and arm out of, breezes to feel on your skin.
So these photos are all from an amazing trip that Erica and Italo arranged for me, before they had even met me! I spent an absolutely wonderful week on Fernando de Noronha, an island of only 26 square kilometers. This is all it is (and sorry tons for the crud on my sensor).
There were tons of tourists on the island, and still, very few people could speak English. I went on a minibus tour of the place (6km of paved road) and had the opportunity to translate for a neat Swedish couple I met. The next bay down the line from this picture is Baia de Sueste, where I snorkeled for an hour. Saw the most marvelous creatures under the surface – a few green sea turtles, which are fantastic, huge, graceful, seriously prehistoric-looking creatures. A couple rays, a shark and a barracuda, both about leg-sized. There would be schools of fish that looked like prickly-pear leaves lit up from the inside, one fish, two fish (and often huge schools of many more very close), red fish, blue fish (more blue than red, actually). That evening I realized why the red fish had been hiding – they had been scared away by the big reddening one in a life jacket, Bermudas and snorkeling gear. I peeled bad a few days later.
Here, in a restaurant, I came to adore "musica popular brasileira". Guitar and voice with chord progressions that I had never imagined existed. And poetry that I could appreciate just for the sounds of the words. It's nice to just listen for this, without needing to look for the meaning. Something I can't do in English, and probably not in Portuguese anymore. Ahhh, I'm reduced to fragments. It's time to go to my second option.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
one week in recife
I can think of so many things I’d rather spend twenty-five hours of my life doing than sit in noisy planes and busy airports (with the TVs blaring the same news every half-hour). Sleep, for one. But it really was an okay trip. And a few really nice things happened on the way. I got to watch some doves and sparrows that had taken up residence at JFK, New York. Tremendous. I always like birds, though.
In Atlanta, I met a group of people headed to Fortaleza, and spent the last leg of the trip with a sick Ana Luísa (also sick as in very cool). She was kind enough not to get me sick, and really good company. I meant to practice some Portuguese, but it is so, so difficult. Still, I am amazingly grateful for the Portuguese that Monica managed to teach me. Without it I might be feeling not-so-hot about being here. And there was also the foolish drunk guy across the aisle: I had to help him with his customs card since he’d forgotten his reading glasses. A little bit entertaining.
Only one horrible thing has happened so far – on Friday morning, as Italo and I were rushing out the door to get to school on time, I realized that my tube of toothpaste was empty. I grabbed the next tube on the counter, and started brushing with the most foul stuff, assuming it was toothpaste. Nope. Shaving cream, which I didn’t find out until the evening, having doubted it all day. Gross. Apparently the people in charge at school find lateness very upsetting, perhaps connected to Brazilians seeming pretty relaxed about timing. They’re not so relaxed about school (and they did put me in the last year of high school, after all), and they seem to spend every weekday studying. So I need to find some good things to do when everyone else is freaking out about their uni. entrance test.
Oh yeah, this one’s for Matt: I had to decline some food the other night (my host grandparents are worried I’m not eating enough, and I worry the reverse). So I said “não neste noite”, NOT ON THIS NIGHT