On Tuesday we returned to Amaral, the school that the majority of our programs we run at the past month. We went late around 6:00 or 7:00 to talk to the teenagers there about our program and build some hype. We walked around to each classroom and did a small 5 to 10 talk about who we were and what our program was about. I almost got up the nerve to talk to one of the classes in portuguese, but I backed out shortly before. One of the classes we walked past was the english class. I got really excited, I was gonna first talk to the class totally in english and then in portuguese, but much to my disappointment, the english class was not meeting during the time we were there.
The school system here is really interesting. From what I can gather school is no longer mandatory after age 15 which also happens to be the age that kids can start working. Because poverty is a major issue here in Brazil almost all the kids that can work start work as soon as they are able. This is partly to help support their family and partly to fill their own material teenage desires. In many ways they are exactly like teens in America, material status symbols are some of the most important things on their lists (iPhones, Nikes, Video games, trendy cloths). However, to get back on topic, The schools have extended hours so that the kids can go to school. Teens mostly work during the day and then go to school at night.
Wednesday we went to the other side of the city and into my first Favela. It took three different long rides on the subway to get to the other side of the city. When we finally arrived at the neighborhood I was amazed at how different it was from my neighborhood in Butantan. Butantan feels like a hip sort of artists district. rundown but not scary rundown. this new area was like something out of a market street in singapore. The streets were lined with street vendors with food carts and counterfeits. the air smelled unreal a mixture of sweet corn, and greasy grilled meat, and rain, and oil and a little bit of sewer. We walked for a few minutes and then went over a huge bridge over the rail way and then bam we were in a favela, my first favela. This was an unreal moment for me. I was a little uncomfortable though I never let that show. all my previous context for a favela was through media depictions of it. A place of extreme and constant violence, and gut wrenching poverty. I was trying to experience the favela without my previous bias but it was difficult. However, we made our way to the school without any problems. at the school before we did our presentation I had some time to reflect on the experience. Being at the school and seeing the kids who live their lives helped me to humanize the favela. It was a place where poverty is a real problem. People are smashed up next to each other, and at times it feels like there isn't room to breath. It is not a totally happy place, but it is a place that is human. The people want to improve their lives, they are good people.
I feel less afraid of favelas now. I am still weary of them. I stand out in the favelas with my long blonde hair and blue eyes and stuttering portuguese (I stutter my portuguese when I am nervous). they can clearly tell that I am not from there. I have no intention of ever entering a favela alone, but I do have a different opinion of them.
Thursday was uneventful, I did homework and then skyped with my parent for two hours.
Friday, I had another crash course in poor parts of the city. First we went to our third school, which is also located on the outskirts of a favela. The favelas in Sao Paulo are different from other favelas in Brazil. The favelas in other cities are easy to see they have distinct geographical designations. In Sao Paulo it is different the favelas sort of sneak up on you. we were driving down a big street filled with big expensive houses we took two or three turns and then, bam, we were driving through a favela. the meeting at the school went well. and after that we went to the center of the city to buy some dry goods for the expedition at the end of the month.
we went to a market industrial center near the center of the city. the streets were lined with really old looking apartments with antique facades, and beneath them were trucks loaded with sacks of food. SACKS OF FOOD like trucks loaded with ten pound bags of rice, and kernel corn,and onions, and god knows what else. It was a bulk whole food persons dream, I was in love. we went to this little hole in the wall store and bought most of our food. they had logs of cheese tied in twine hanging from the ceiling, and wheels of parmesan that weighed 20 kilos. the had rice in 5 kilo sacs (which is a lot of rice, I kilo is a meal for 12 people), and sacs of dried beans, and fruit and nuts of every flavor. they had boxes the size of milk crates filled with every kind of spice. Employees were walking into the store with hand truck loaded with brown sacs of food. The store smelled like a mixture of bleach, and a farmers market. we filled 5 shopping cart with food. and then loaded the food into boxes and onto a massive hand truck to carry it all to our car. We got back to the house late and after unloading the food I promptly went to bed.
Saturday was the most amazing day of my adventure so far. late Saturday afternoon I went to a boy scout fundraiser/german Brazilian heritage festival. The Festival was fun, with lots of good greasy german and brazilian food. Brazil is also currently hosting the federation cup games and I got to watch Brazil whoop Japans butt with a 3 to nothing game. I met several cool people including what I can only assume is the only other person living in Brazil with blond hair and blue eyes.
But the real story of Saturday was that I got to the festival via MOTORCYCLE. I did not drive the motorcycle I only rode but it was thrilling. Motorcyclists in Sao Paulo are really aggressive drivers. They drive in between the lanes and parked cars weaving in and out of traffic. Traffic in Brazil is super aggressive to begin with, I think that the bikes are even more aggressive, and I think they are safer because of it. people watch out for the bikes they give them a wide birth.
The Festival was a good distance aways from my house so we had to take the highway to get there. I was unaware of this until we got on the entrance ramp for the highway. I saw the person driving the motorcycle pull down his visor and quickly make the sign of the cross across his chest, before we entered the highway, and all I could think was "damn right, you just made the sign of the crucifix, and at least if we crash I won't feel much". We made it to the party without a problem and I entered the party so hopped up on adrenaline that I could barely remember my name or stand straight. The trip back was equally successful and also at night which made everything ten times cooler. Somewhere along the ride to and from the festival I realized that I have the ultimate summer experience trump card. And more importantly people couldn't even hate me for it because my trip is all about self improvement, and helping those less fortunate. I realized that I win at summer.
I had several important realization this week. However the most important epiphany was that I am forever ruined for coffee. Coffee is a birthright in brazil. Everywhere we go we are offered coffee. At every meeting at every school the directors have had coffee sitting in a thermes with little cups. I ate coffee beans right off a tree during my canoe trip. Coffee is available at any time of the day. Brazilians like their coffee hot, strong and sweet. they don't dress it up with cream or sugar or water it down. The generic coffee you can buy in the store would make your local hipster, hippie, hemp wearing coffee shop weep tears of blood and envy. It is the kind of coffee that will wake you up and move your bowels after the first sip.
I am a self proclaimed tea snob, but I will be purchasing several bricks of coffee to take back home with me, some will be gifts for close friends and family and the rest will be jealously guarded like Smog the dragon guard his glittery things or golem guards the ring.
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