Miscellaneous

Since my past two days have been consumed by class and naps, I’m going to take this opportunity to write some miscellaneous observations and stories from my past week in Brazil!

First of all, MONEY.

Brazilians use the “real” here, pronounced “ray-all.” Apparently, in years past, the conversion rate was 2.5 reals to 1 dollar, but because of a recent economic recession here in Brazil, the conversion rate is 4 to 1. It’s a weird phenomenon for me as an American abroad, because I kind of feel like I’m benefitting from the misfortune of an entire country’s economy. I try to be cognizant of that fact while shopping in the adorable boutiques in the city, but it’s kind of hard to reconcile. It brings up complex ideas of how I (and other Americans) fit into the international community, and how we deal with the privileges we carry with us every time we go abroad. 

Weather! The weather here has been pretty wild. When we arrived, it was incredibly humid and super warm, and my hair has continuously been a tangled ball of frizz. I look every morning in the mirror with whispies making up more volume than the hair actually in my ponytail, and I kind of just reconcile myself to my appearance.

But I've loved the warmth and the dampness--my skin feels clean and refreshed after the dry, dusty heat of Ahmedabad. I also love the sudden bouts of pouring rain and the chance thunderstorms as I walk home from the bus stop. Perhaps it's the overwhelming fear of drought instilled in me by my Californian childhood, but I've loved soaking in the hydration during my stay in "The City of Small Rains" (that's what my tour guide called it apparently?? No proof found on the internet of this nickname, but whatevs).

 What else... Oh fun fact. In addition to being called "The City of Small Rains" (once again, v dubious origins), Sao Paulo is also called the crime capital of the world.

Surprisingly, I've felt extremely safe this entire time--perhaps excepting my time in cracolandia. I am lucky enough to be living in one of the safest and wealthiest neighborhoods in Sao Paulo, and walking around alone (sorry, parents!!! pretend you didn't read that) has posed absolutely no problem for me. Perhaps another contributing factor to my (perhaps misled) conception of comfort in this city has to do with my quickly-growing recognition of the areas around me. I can find find my way without intense directions with a radius of about 45-minutes walking from my house and school. I recognize landmarks pretty readily, and I feel like an honorary Paulista (aka resident of Sao Paulo). I'm really hoping that this lessening of my nervousness doesn't lead to a carelessness that could be dangerous. But hopefully my bright-eyed trustworthiness and love for this city don't do me dirty.

*except for Sao Paulo!!!*

I have reiterated over and over how LOVELY I found Sao Paulo and Brazil in general, and I've been shocked to learn that others on my trip actually feel quite uncomfortable here and crave the bustle and sensoral stimulation of India. 

While part of me is like,

I must remind myself that every single individual perceives and experiences different environments in completely and totally different ways. I'm constantly shown that there are a plethora of realities in this world, and that every person possesses his or her own. I guess I'm just always shocked by the fact that even when a person and I completely identify with one another, and have certain similarities, and get along chummily, we may still disagree on truths that we each hold to be fundamental while they're in fact simply opinions. I keep learning that certainties I hold to be universal are actually quite fickle and that it's up to me to prove to others (or to prove to myself) why my opinion, beliefs, and perceptions are valid. 

Which sorta kinda almost segues into my next point in a way. Like I said (for the bajillionth time)--I love Sao Paulo. I feel like I'm my best self here. It's close to my euphoria on the beach in California, and on the first truly spring day in Boston. I'm affectionate, adventurous, carefree, and happy. Oh and humble, obviously. 

But like legitimately, my friends have been shocked by the extent of my bubbliness here in Brazil. One of my friends commented that she's pretty sure my insides are made out of "warm fuzzies."

And I guess that's when I realized that my worries about identity and not being my best self in India, while valid, aren't necessarily super important. Because perhaps more than just striving to be the best me (optimistic and sunshine-y all the time), I need to treat myself to the places/people/activities that actually bring out my best self effortlessly. Instead of killing myself over trying to be happy in a city or with a 'friend' or in a circumstance that truly depresses me and breaks down my joy, I will make more of an effort to travel to/live in locations; surround myself with individuals; and engage in experiences that actually make me feel good. And let me tell ya--Brazil is def that place.

Okay, one last story (slash maybe two) to express why I know that this place is my spirit city (after New Orleans, of course). So I was walking home yesterday from the subway stop when I noticed an injure pigeon standing completely still in the middle of the street. My animal-lover alarm started blaring when I noticed that a taxi was speeding in that lane right towards the pigeon.

I attempted to mentally prepare myself for the scarring carnage I was about to witness when the taxi literally swerved into another lane to avoid the pigeon.

Phew.

BUT THEN!!!

A gigantic bus is right behind the taxi!!! Danger danger!! And then--the gigantic city bus swerves into another lane.

Literally, this sedentary pigeon meditating on its imminent death is sitting in the middle of a road, and cars are swerving around, causing a traffic jam, trying to preserve its precious little birdy life. 

UNTIL. 

The driver of the taxi gets out of his car, picks up the pigeon!!!, and escorts it to the sidewalk, where he affectionately and tenderly places it on the ground. He then returns to his automobile, gets in, and drives away, while the rest of the cars continue on their daily commute.

Oh my god. This was literally my reaction.

A CITY WHERE PEOPLE CARE ABOUT ANIMALS AND OTHER LIVES. I am coming straight from a city in which my driver ran over a f*cking dog then tried to convince us that "it would get up in five minutes, it was fine, it's leg was just hurting a little."

Reaction then:

But seriously, I love being in a place that values the lives of other creatures, because I truly believe that contributes to the way we view humans as well. Cruelty towards living beings is, in my opinion, an extremely pertinent issue, and I am so relieved and happy to see that other people care about animal lives in the same way I do. UGH wonderful.

There's also this incredible story about how Brazilians 'employed' shelter dogs to be retrievers of tennis balls at the Brazil Open in order to promote awareness of shelter adoption:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/street-dogs-trained-to-be-ball-dogs-for-brazil-open-to-raise-awareness-for-animal-adoptin_us_56d5b6dce4b0bf0dab336847?

Legit read it and prepare to weep.

Anyways, I am just loving my time here and really enjoying myself. While today was kind a stressful day with the class discussions and topics we focused on, as well as some emerging homesickness from videochatting my best friends for the first time since leaving the United States, I am constantly reminded of how lucky I am and how wonderful my circumstances truly are. Thanks for following my journey, loves (:

From your fave (honorary) Brazilian Babe,

Aubrey

(Marco) Polo Forest and Valentine's Day

(From February 14)

A whirlwind of a weekend comes to a close, after fresh air for the first time in a month, a lonesome venture into the city center, and a freaking amazing ice cream sandwich.

I woke up around 6 AM yesterday morning to scarf down a quick breakfast (my first real meal since Wednesday!!!) before meeting up with companions at a nearby homestay. The five of us had all forgone a weekend at a Portuguese beach colony (aka pre-Brazil) and a luxurious spa day in order to trek into Polo Forest, a gorgeous nature reserve about two and a half hours away from Ahmedabad.

We piled into the van to start our adventure, but only ten minutes in, one of the girls frantically demanded we pull over. As soon as the quite confused driver slowed the car to the edge of the freeway, she opened the door and began vomiting.

Yikes.

I mean, it made me feel a little bit better about my previous illness—at least I could be moderately sure it wasn’t typhoid and that it was instead some stomach bug that is making its way through our group. And while I would have immediately pleaded out of the trip and opted for a day in bed being pampered on, my friend soldiered on and demanded we continue driving.

You do you, girlfriend.

I settled into the long drive comfortably. I personally really love transit. I crave the freedom of being transported from one place to the next, my only worry being whether I want to read or listen to music or nap. That’s why plane rides are, like, the best;* you’re literally not expected to do anything but sit there and chill.

(*quick note, plane rides are only the best if they’re headed towards California.)

About an hour into the journey, one of our company became enthralled by some massive rock formation on the side of the road. “I’m gonna climb it,” she exclaimed suddenly and motioned for the driver to pull over, once again.

I took one look at the giant mountain with zero footholds, no vegetation, and blaringly obvious unsafety, and quickly decided it wasn’t my cup of tea.

Instead, I took the time to make friends with the cutest freaking puppy (probs six months old at the very most) on the side of the road. It looked like a legit teddy bear, and I coaxed it enough over the next twenty or so minutes to allow me to pet it. #heaven.

I attracted quite the crowd with my compassion towards a random stray. It’s difficult to discern whether it was more shocking to see a white person or just an individual choosing to interact with an animal beyond kicking it, but either way, about fifteen villagers gathered around me and the puppy, enthralled by my affection.

What I didn’t notice in my blissful state of canine lovin’ was the other crowd gathering on the side of the road staring up at the mountain up which my friend continued to clamber. It wasn’t until another of the girls frantically ran up to me, telling me that the villagers were angry about the rock climber’s blatant disregard for safety and that our driver was demanding she return, that I looked around at the scene we were causing.

At least fifty people had lined up on the street to watch her ascent, while cars were literally stopping in the middle of the freeway to stare at the commotion. Our presence was causing an actual traffic jam. We quickly scrambled into the car in order to call the girl’s cell phone and demand she come back down. Other individuals had begun to get more curious about us (and slightly more aggressive) and were beginning to crowd around us and our car, at times reaching for the door handles and staring into the windows with their noses at the glass. I felt like a zoo animal.

It was uncomfortable, hectic, and kind of scary. One guy apparently pantomimed the snarl of a tiger, indicating that tigers were on the mountain (which turned out to be completely, one hundred percent false, but what do we know), and our driver was getting antsy, and we could no longer see my friend.

Basically, long story short, we got her off the mountain after about an hour, and were back on the road with little incident. It was an ~exciting~ morning to start off our day.

We got to the Polo Forest, excited to finally begin our foray into the great outdoors. Simply being around green, and trees, and water instilled in me a peace for which I’d been searching for weeks. Finally—I was back where I belonged (kind of).

Along our hour-long hike, we were treated to views of dry deciduous forest, which reminded me so much of home that it was happily disconcerting. At one point, we even came across a valley with rocky drops and shrubby trees that looked almost identical to my backyard. We got to swing on the hanging roots of a gigantic banyan tree, venture into abandoned, ruined temples, and catch breathtaking views of uninterrupted, seemingly endless hills. It was everything I’d needed after weeks of city life.

My delight began to dissipate literally the second we stepped back onto a main road for a singular reason. A tiny little puppy, probably less than three months old, had wandered into the street, probably looking for food, considering its ribs were sticking out. A shrill honk sent it scampering back to the side, but one random imbecile couldn’t seem to help but throw a stone at the retreating dog anyway.

I think I saw red.

BUT instead of beating up the man (which I would have gladly done), I took a deep breath and moved tentatively towards the tiny canine. I got on all fours, murmuring sweet nothings, and slowly reached out my knuckles to allow it a sniff.

I don’t think I’ll ever forget its posture or expression.

It stood there, tail tucked between its bony little legs, hunched out of perpetual fear, looking at me with the expectation of cruelty.

I know, I know, I’m in a country and a city in which I see people—human beings—in abject poverty and abhorrent conditions every day. I promise that I get upset about it, and I am going to be dedicating my life and career to improving the conditions of the world’s people. However, there is simply something about animals, especially dogs, that pierces directly to my heart every single time.

I sat there for a few moments, registering its emotions and the potential of getting viciously attacked by a dog, then reached my hand closer to its nose. After a few moments of stillness, it seemed to slowly realize that I wasn’t looking to hurt it. I cautiously began to pet its back, its head, and its ears. I sat with it for maybe one or two minutes, while most of my party continued on (bye, guys). After I stood up and brushed off my leggings, the puppy did something that cheered me more than any hike or fresh air ever could—it wagged its tail.

If you’re not an animal lover, or at least an animal liker, that story probably bored you enough to the point where you’re only skimming. I mean, hey, to each his or her own, unless its animal cruelty, then cut it out. Actually, animal mistreatment seems to be a really big problem in this place, for reasons that I don’t feel quite qualified nor uncensored enough to elaborate on at the moment, but I actually just wrote a paper on it for one of my classes that I may or may not post here later on. We’ll see if you get lucky.

We got back to the main grounds and climbed back into the car around 3 PM for what we thought would be a short three hour ride back to Ahmedabad.

Ha. Ha. Wrong.

We’d told our driver we were interested in seeing one final temple on our way home, but he apparently did not quite catch which temple… So we ended up in a completely random town at a completely random (albeit cool-looking temple) around 5 PM, and it then took us six (SIX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) hours to get home.

Did you read that????? SIX. HOURS. After two hours already!!!!!!!!!! Literally, we could have driven from Southern California to San Francisco in that amount of time. Instead, we were on a bumpy, curvy road (really great for my stomach, which started to act up again, and for my friend, laying in the front seat looking like she was going to die) with a driver that honked more often than not. He’d honk when he was in front of a car, or behind a car, or sometimes when there was no car at all. I started getting pretty pissy about it around 10 PM going on the seventh hour. Hope you don’t blame me for that one.

My host mom was worried sick, considering I’d told her I’d get home at 8 PM and I had no way of letting her know that I was going to be three (!!!!!!!!!!!) hours later than I’d thought—both because I had no minutes on my phone and because even if I could reach her, I couldn’t communicate with her. Super awesome situation.

I slept it off though, getting to go to bed without an alarm for the first time in three weeks. Praise to the Lord for that one, man.

I was feeling a little down (read: dejectedly depressed) today. I mean, my roommate is gone for the weekend, so I’m stuck in a home with no English speakers, no WiFi to check for any nearby spots to hang out, no phone numbers of any friends in town, and an explicit command to not go anywhere alone because of dangers. I was laying in my bed in despair, looking through photos of my family and—I’ll admit it—crying.

My parents rock though, and while Mom was virtually consoling me, my dad messaged me a place close by that he’d Google Mapped that looked interesting. So, I dried my tears and set out on an adventure, flouting the rule on travelling in pairs.

I arrived in a random city square with no English signs and lots of stares, but I took it in stride and began to wander the streets. At one point, I saw an elephant in the middle of the street and mesmerized, I began to wander towards it. That auspicious omen ended up leading me to a cyber café, where I was able to use the sweet, sweet internet for a full hour for the cheap enough price of 20 rupees—aka 30 cents.

I’ll take it.

My mini connection with the outside world (Scalia died? My friend updated her profile picture? The PSK/Sab dinner actually happened without my presence???) refreshed me and rejuvenated me. I noticed, however, that I didn’t feel any extreme compulsion to post or look at or like anything. I just wanted to message my best friends, and check my email for videos that my mom had promised to send, and laugh at updated comments on my world-famous YouTube video. That’s how I know I’m in the right place. Even though I’m depressed about animal cruelty, and poverty, and my lack of the super skill of knowing every dialect that the world has to offer, and even though I miss my friends, and my family, and my dogs (oh my god, my dogs), I don’t feel like I’m missing out. I feel completely content with my detachment from my normal life. And only like 25% of that is because I read an article in an Indian newspaper today about the “life-threatening” cold hitting Boston this Valentine’s Day (literally, it quoted “life-threatening”!!!!).

That’s not to say I’m completely content and perfectly living in the moment. It’s just like the metaphor that I shared with a very dear friend yesterday, that’s pretty good if I say so myself. (This is the last part of my blog, I promisepromisepromise, please stick with me.)

India is like this really delicious bread basket. (Go with it.) Like you’re eating this bread and you’re like, wow yeah this is great.

But you’ve already looked at the menu. And you know that following this bread basket is an amazing appetizer of caprese salad (Brazil), and then, after that, a top-grade sirloin steak (South Africa). But after the steak and the caprese (I love me some caprese) is the most delicious, incredible, mouth-watering ice cream chocolate cookie milkshake concoction that is made by the best dessert person in the whole wide world (California, obviously).

And you’re trying so hard to savor your break and to eat every last crumb, but you’re already looking forward to your appetizer and your dinner but above all you know you have to save room for dessert.

So I’m trying to savor every second in India and absorb every little experience and lick my fingers after I’m done to carry the taste, but I’m already so excited for my next adventures and honestly, more than anything, I’m really, really excited to go home. I love my family and my house and my friends and my dogs (my dooooogs!!) more than anything in the world—and I’ve seen a fair share of this ol’ place by now, so I can say that with some confidence.

Anyways. I had more poetic things to ramble on about, including identity and what it’s like to sit quietly while you’re pretty sure that everyone around you is talking about you and your digestion in a different language and the demon that lives outside my window and emerges at 4 AM every morning, but you’ve listened to me blather for more than long enough, so we can save those stories for another day.

Thanks for sticking with me. Keep me in your thoughts. And friends at Harv, please take a Valentine’s Day shot in honor of my pathetic romantic ventures over the years. (Preferably at either the PSK or Spee, as those are the most appropriate locations.)

Sending love and kisses this fourteenth of February,

AubStod