Do I Have Zika?, And Other Questions (With Answers)

Hello, and welcome to a Thursday night/Friday morning edition of "Rhetorical Question and Actual Answer with Aubrey Stoddard." I'm your host, Aubrey Stoddard. Let's get started, shall we?

How well can I waste away an entire morning?

Very well! Something I excel at, actually.

Though I had complete faith in my ability, I decided to retest myself yesterday when I didn't have to get out of the house until 2:30 PM. I managed to lounge around, press snooze multiple times, drink copious amounts of coffee, and go on a (very, very short) run before skipping out of the house and making my way to an interview with a very inspiring high school student.

How difficult is it to put together an entire midterm presentation in less than two days?

Not as difficult as I imagined, actually! Especially when you're privy to especially talented and inspiring individuals like those that I met yesterday and today. This past winter, hundreds of high school students in the state of Sao Paulo (yes, Sao Paulo is a city and a state--like New York. Come on, keep up!!) participated in a giant protest against governmental reorganization of their schools. They staged months-long occupations of their school buildings, prohibiting officials from entering and maintaining 24-hour watch and protection of the area in order to show teachers, police, and the government their ideal school. They organized cleaning schedules, cooking schedules, sleeping schedules, activities and lessons taught by world-renowned professionals and experts.

But more on those students in just a moment. The presentation took a total of two hours after about eight hours of gathering evidence and conducting interviews.

Exactly how long can I sleep?

Twelve hours is the current record. Last night, I managed to sleep from 9:30 PM to 9:30 AM with only one phone check in those entire hours. There were, however, countless moments of half-dreaming, half-lucid moments in which I thought a civil war had begun outside my window due to some car backfires and motorcycle revvings. Did I wake up refreshed?

Instead, I turned to Sam, and immediately complained,

What can we learn from these protesting students?

Okay, in all honesty, it's a little difficult to make me feel really bad about myself. Maybe I'm only being this honest because it's 12:30 AM and I'm procrastinating on a midterm, but it's true--I'm pretty self-confident. Meeting these sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds, though, made me feel like screaming--

These teens were wearing super edgy jewelry and smoking cigarettes, and like I've taken all the "Just Say No" classes, but they somehow made smoking look really, really cool, like--

And I was just like--

woah.

Okay, seriously though. These students had noticed an injustice in their educational systems, and they refused to remain passive. Instead, they gathered together in a unified movement and literally took over their schools. They disregarded the police, their principals, and mainstream society and instead took impassioned control of their own futures.

That's pretty f*cking sick.

I hope that if I see my own future jeopardized in such a way, I have the courage and fortitude and strength of self to voice my opinions and use whatever means necessary to defend my rights, like these awesome teens.

How do I always manage to turn into a caricature in my homestays?

Okay, this one doesn't really have a good answer, because I don't really know. Maybe it's my effusively joyous and excited personality, or maybe it's just my addiction to certain foods, but I literally become like this cartoon character in my homestays with super definable qualities.

I'm not sure if I'm explaining this well, but I'll try. In my Indian homestay, my homestay mom spoke basically no English. Sure, a few isolated words here and there, but for all intents and purposes, zilch.

So, when I got really sick and was throwing up, she began offering all sorts of foods (because obv that's what I love). "Rice? Grapes? Kurd?" She inquired.

No, no, and what no absolutely not.

So, she resorted to the dependable favorite. "Chocolate ice cream?"

I considered for a moment then, feeling my stomach ache in protest, responded "No thank you."

Her reaction:

That's when she knew I was really sick.

Also, when numerous family members came to visit my home stay mom the day that Sally and I were set to leave, she would rattle off in Gujarati for minutes and, when she finished talking, they would turn to me with a smile and comment, "She says you LOVE chocolate."

That's it. That's what she got from a month of inhabiting with me.

My current homestay knows a few more of my obsessions because the language gap isn't quite as large.

1) Coffee. After a few days of consistently begging for more coffee after their pot would run low--

My host mom started making about three times as much coffee as she usually does. Now, she's made a kind of song out of my addiction that she will sing to the baby as she brews my coffee. It's kind of like a humming "Aubrey loves cooooffee, coffee for Auuuubreyyy, la la la."

I wish I was kidding.

2) Food in general, but especially desserts. I already talked about my "pregnancy scare"--

just fat

but my host sis has continued to inquire about my quote "devastating hunger" (exact words) and told me that after eating an entire sleeve of chocolate cookies today, she thought of me. Trust me, I love her; I find it hilarious that she knows me so well after only three and a half weeks. But honestly, all this talk of my obsession with food only two days before spring break has got me like--

3) Distinctive clothing. This one is a lot less problematic than the first two, thank God. I am well-known on Harv's campus and within the IHP circle for my crop top and skirt/shorts combo--it's kind of my trademark--but now even my host fam knows! My host sis said she saw "colorful pants" in a store window and thought of me.

So, sometimes being a caricature isn't too terrible. Maybe it just means I know myself like really really well--so everybody else knows me pretty well, too!

And finally, the question you've been waiting for--

Do I have Zika?????

I mean.... potentially. Symptoms are fever (check), headache (yup), fatigue (twelve hours of sleep--so yes), and muscle ache (I mean yes, but it could be my short-lived flurry of exercise to shed the pounds before spring break). But Zika actually isn't too big a deal if you don't get pregnant within two years. So yes, I may have Zika, but it's not as scary as you think!!!

Well that's all for this edition of "Rhetorical Questions and Actual Answers With Aubrey Stoddard." I'm Aubrey Stoddard, and I'll see you next time--post-midterm presentation and potentially in Rio!!!

Tchau, dearies,
Aubs

Cheers to the Weekend

How do I even begin to encompass and describe the disparity between my past three days here in Sao Paulo? From informal housing sites, to a Top 40 night club, to a Portuguese SoulCycle, these 72 hours have allowed me to explore facets of the city that I'd never before seen.

Thursday seems like years ago, My friends and I have found that certain class days--specifically, the ones that involve nine hours of class and five different lectures, can bring us to the brink of sleep.

Lecturer: "As we have discussed in the past ten classes, colonialism began in the 15th century"

Seriously, even a history concentrator can only take so much repetition. So, in order to keep our minds sharp and our wandering thoughts corralled, a few of my friends and I have begun Sudoku races. We create Sudoku charts in our notebooks, copy down a few puzzles, and compete to finish first. Doing this actually really helps me pay attention, as I'm occupying my logical/number side of the brain (which is sorely underused tbh) while keeping my creative, imaginative side open for the issues and crises of Sao Paulo.

At least, that's what I tell myself.

We spent the latter half of Thursday at a fascinating apartment complex that is currently developing in Sao Paulo. It'd been a really long day, though, and I found the dimmed lights and comfy temperature of the presentation room quite lulling. At one point, we had to wake up our drowsing teacher. Slightly hilarious. But the presenter was really interesting, and I enjoyed inquiring about how his work relates to the recent history and economy of Sao Paulo. I so love being immersed in this city.

Later that afternoon/night, I went with a few friends to a bar in the a nearby neighborhood. We chatted loudly and cackled rambunctiously, and we spoke with abandon because nobody could understand us!!!!

Them: ^

Us: Good.

On Friday, I started the day with an hour-long trip outside the city center to an informal housing unit built up over the last few years. Basically, this community is constituted of families and individuals that would be homeless but have squatted on uninhabited government land and constructed homes from wood, cardboard, and other temporary materials. Many have improved and fortified their structures over the past few years and are now gaining formal status from the government.

Unlike individuals that I met in similar situations in India, the people in these locations expressed profound anger. They did not want to live in this location nor in these situations; they were desperate, and these informal homes were their last resort. "All we ask for," one inhabitant expressed, "is dignified living."

I found myself inspired, though, and awed by the fortitude, energy, and determination of these individuals. Despite working long hours during the week, they used the weekends to lay pipes and sewage systems; build up their own homes; and help others in the community construct. Even as we spoke, wrapping up our discussion, we watched two men laying the framework for a new home. I was astounded.

I was bothered too, though, by my reactions to this community. I felt hopeful, I felt myself being inspired instead of angered by the conditions, and I did not feel bad. This is completely different than my emotions in India. Upon seeing slums, I was so frustrated and almost physically sickened. Brazilian slums have not affected me in the same manner at all.

I'm scared by this change in my perception of subpar living conditions. Is it because I am so much happier in Brazil that I'm subconsciously donning rose-colored glasses in looking even at poverty and injustice? Is it that I'm getting desensitized to these issues? I'm nervous by the fickleness of my judgment and my inability to critically analyze the urban problems with which I'm being presented. 

I attempted to grapple with these problems but found myself swept up in the excitement of another fun weekend--guilt burgeoned in me with this swift and callous transition, but my long week required some mental and emotional distraction. So, after a fab haircut, Izzy joined my host family for dinner and was wowed by the unbelievable beef/fried dough Brazilian dish called "pastels." These little meat pockets were effing delicious, and I couldn't stop exclaiming my delight even with my mouth stuffed. I think my host mom loves me because if I'm not praising her cooking, I'm fawning over her granddaughter. Flattery is my specialty.

After dinner, a great roar of cheering swelled outside the window. I ran to listen to the second political expression since my arrival. Brazil's last president, Lula, was arrested to the delight and vindication of my numbers. Clapping, shouts of joy, and whistling filled the air.

me tryna absorb what is happening

People here are just unbelievably politically engaged. I think it's because of how young Brazil's democracy is--its current system of electoral, free government began in 1989. Think of how invested Americans were in every election and political happening back in the early 1800's.

Oh... only I'm familiar with the investment of Americans in politics in the early 1800's? 

But hey, maybe you'll reconsider my nerd status when you learn that I went out to a club last night!!! WOW!!! Aubrey went out!!!!

Even though the whole time I was thinking--

I more or less suppressed my social anxiety/nervousness/exhaustion and really ended up enjoying myself. Dancing with Izzy and Sally was the highlight of my night--I mean, besides our 3:00 AM McDonald's run, of course.

This morning, we woke up for what was one of the most fun and rockin' days I've had on this program. Sally, Izzy, Jenn, and I scoured an antiques market and nearby boutiques for some gifts and finds. I did so well with my shopping discoveries... So well in fact that I'm looking at my bank account like

That can't be right... oh my god, it is.

But omg, I have gotten to that weird, mature age at which I like buying gifts for other people more than I like shopping for myself??? Am I... an adult???

Spoiler alert, I bought three scoops of gelato and ate the entire thing too fast tonight and got a stomach ache, so no, I'm not nearly an adult.

After shopping, we walked to the Brazilian version of SoulCycle called Velocity. Velocity and SoulCycle are establishments at which you have an instructor guiding you through a stationary bike class with super awesome music and rave-y lights. I actually got embarrassingly into it and may not be a member of the SoulCycle cult.

We treated ourselves to an unreal Italian dinner of caprese, salmon, and gnocchi then got some gelato.

Jenn and I spent the entire night crying (aka sobbing) at military homecoming videos, marriage proposals, Google Chrome commercials, and the first episode of Fuller House. All of my friends have now gone out to party in Sao Paulo but I decided to stay behind and enjoy the night of having a room alllll to myself. Time to snuggle under my covers and enjoy my favorite kind of Saturday night.

Good night, dearies,

Aubrey

Savoring Sao Paulo

Oh my gosh—I can’t believe it’s only been about 48 hours since my previous blog post! It kind of feels like I’ve been in Sao Paulo for a lifetime, and India feels years away. Before I even get into my incredible day and a half that I’ve had in Sao Paulo, I’d love to echo a sentiment that my new homestay partner, Samantha, made about being in Brazil after India. She commented that our time here (even though it’s been short thus far) has already begun to color her recollection of India and how she perceives her experiences in Ahmedabad.

I couldn’t agree more.

It seems that all of us have already begun to compare, to relate back, and to compartmentalize; half of our sentences begin with, “well, in India,” or “remember how in India?” I can’t decide if this is good or bad. I think drawing comparisons can be helpful in contextualizing perceptions, and it’s nice to share our common experiences and build on them, but what does it mean for my recollection of India if I talk about how much more I love the humidity and lushness here in comparison to the dryness and dustiness of Ahmedabad, or if I relish the paved sidewalks and convenience of non-bucket showers? I have barely been afforded the time to sift through and cement my impressions of India, and I am already forming new memories and putting them into direct competition with those of the last month. Seems kind of unfair, kind of dangerous—but also really exciting.

BUT ANYWAYS—that’s enough seriousness for now. Great news—I have the internet for GIF’s again!!!

I know!! Way less of my boring words, way more laughs and visuals.

Picking up from where my last blog left off. We left the hotel around 12 PM to get our first full Brazilian lunch. And oh my god—it was unreal.

Beef, salads, sushi (SUSHI!!!) all arranged in a beautiful buffet. The plate was weighed in order to assign a price, and we paid at the end of the meal. It was freaking amazing. We also had a quick orientation to the program and were told our homestay partners, which was v exciting. On our walk back, I embraced the humidity and heat and green of the city like I was in paradise.

#praise

I had missed plants and nature so much, and while I wasn’t really expecting it, foliage encroaches every street in Sao Paulo. I guess that could be the rainforest influence, right? But I’m not questioning it, I’m just savoring it.

me every other second

Samantha (my homestay partner) and I were picked up from the hotel with our bags by our new homestay mom. I don’t want to say I packed a lot, but this might be an accurate portrayal of my packing habits.

Woops. I just have a lot of baggage, okay?

I loved (loved) chatting with my home stay mom, Maria, on our drive to our new home. She pointed out numerous shops, pubs, and theaters along the ride, giving tips about places to go and eat. In one of those moments of what may be an unfair comparison to my Indian experience, I realized how beneficial it is to have a local with whom you can communicate about the city. I definitely felt close in a way to Shamim, my Indian host mom, but it makes me sad that I missed out on the fulfilment of experiencing Ahmedabad with someone who actually knew the place. (But I don’t think any family will ever compare to the OG [aka original] home stay fam—hollah @ the Morrises!!)

Our apartment sits at the top of a small hill, surrounded by other tall buildings and the quaint villa of Sally’s home stay family. (!!!yay!) Our host mom led us to the top floor (omg) of the 18-story building (OMG) with literally the. most. stellar view.

LOOK!!!!

WOW. WOW. I feel like an urban Rapunzel, or some romantic-tragic figure in a city-set drama.

literally how I picture myself

I’m living in a penthouse overlooking the largest city of the Southern Hemisphere. I think that the unbelievable view alone has made me reconsider my absolute refusal to ever live in a city. I sat on the windowsill for like thirty minutes, just staring out into the sunset wistfully and picturing my next *candid* Insta pic from that very spot.

Now, about my family!!! Our mom, Maria, is kind, open, honest, and very motherly. She has three kids: Luigi, a son whom we have not yet met; Lara, a daughter who is currently travelling in Australia and will return in a few weeks; and Liza, a fun, frank, and compassionate mom of a six-month old, Maria!!! The daughter is unbelievably adorable, and I’ve taken ample time to play with her and hold her and make her smile. She’s so cute and well-natured, ugh so much love. There is also another foreign exchange “host brother” in the house named Fumito; he’s a businessman from Japan with whom we’ve had some pretty cool conversations about our travels.

After an unreal dinner of chicken-rice soup (of which I had like four bowls while everyone else had one), chicken with bell peppers, avocado (yes, I cried), pumpkin, rice and beans, etc. etc…. I loved it a ton. The meal felt much more reminiscent of my meals back home, more familiar in its spices and consistency and makeup. In all honesty, I never ate Indian food in the US; it was not really my favorite kind of food. I savored the tastes while I was in India, and there’s also just something really cool and satisfying about eating a region’s food while you’re actually there, but I definitely stuff myself with Brazilian food, whereas I tentatively and delicately ate last month.

me in India

me in Brazil

After dinner, Sam and I figured it was the appropriate time to breathlessly ask for the WiFi password. WIFI AT HOME, what a concept!!! After a month of momentary stolen glances at Facebook and Snapchat, I’m reentering popular culture like,

damn Daniel? white vans? what???

I was indulging myself with the wonders of the Internet when all of a sudden, a commotion arose outside the window. Samantha, Fumito, and I looked at each other inquisitively, then opened the living room window. Numerous neighbors were hanging out of the windows, banging pots of pans, flickering their lights, shouting aggressively in Portuguese. Honks reverberated from the streets, fireworks went off from below, and the flashing of lights could be seen in buildings miles away.

We stood there for five minutes, wondering if it a soccer game had been won, or if a spontaneous protest had taken place, when all of a sudden our host sister Liza abruptly came to the window and, with a brisk “excuse me,” began banging two pot lids.

Shocked, we asked her what was happening. “Our president is speaking,” she responded primly, “we don’t like her.”

OH MY GOD. OH. MY GOD. I felt my arm hairs stand on end, I got the chills, I felt almost giddy. HOW FREAKING COOL is this method of social protest!!!!!!!??????? It felt so communal, so metaphorical and symbolic, and so peaceful a way of expressing distaste. I don’t know exactly why it so titillated my passion for politics, but something about it absolutely enthralled me. Today, we learned that it is specifically called a “Panellasou,” or a “cooking pot fest,” and it has problematic origins, but for some reason, I found myself astounded. It must have lasted for about ten full minutes, and I sat mesmerized in front of the window for its entirety. Fascinating.

My sleep was sort of interrupted by the steamy heat of our bedroom (no fan or AC) and my disruptive jet lag, so Samantha and I woke up pretty early to go for a jog.

Ahhhh, jogging. I missed you so.

FIRST, though, we ate literally my dream breakfast (sorry I keep talking about food, I’m just in love with eating). We ate bread, fresh fruit, and coffee cake with copious amounts of coffee. Like ya, okay, twist my arm. We then met our neighbor, who will hopefully reappear in future blog posts, if ya catch my drift.

We took the elevator downstairs and found that in order to exit the complex, we had to get through this legitimately impenetrable gate. We wandered to a little guard hut and asked (in English) how to get out. He looked at us kind of pathetically and shook his head.

“Espanol!!??” we asked excitedly. “Un poquito,” he said hesitantly. Samantha and I then looked at each other, waiting for the other to whip out some Spanish knowledge.

“Como…” Samantha began, and all of a sudden, this super athletic beautiful woman came up and asked, “Need some help?’

She conversed with the guard and he buzzed us out, and we thanked our first guardian angel of the day.

We decided to run for about eight minutes then just turn back the way we had come after that time. Only problem—we took a few too many twists and turns, and when my alarm signaled our halfway mark, we kind of stood there like—

Ummmm…. Woops.

We started to wander in the general direction in which we thought our apartment was, and, after about thirty minutes of strolling through delightfully artsy streets filled with quaint and stylish shops and restaurants, WE FOUND OUR STREET.

I won’t say I was worried, but like….

It was good to be back.

We got ready pretty hurriedly, because we were meeting Sally and Maria for a visit to a museum. Unfortunately, time slipped away from us, and we ended up not having time to go before class (Strike 1). BUT I did get to meet a few dogs and play fetch, so that made my day.

We ate our disappointment and scarfed down some sushi, which was legit unreal. I may have already written this, but Brazil has the second-largest Japanese population in the world, preceded only by Japan. So the sushi was pretty lit.

  

Class came next, and every single person was practically bouncing with a newfound energy. The transition to a new city had invigorated all of us, and we conversed and discussed with an unforeseen excitement and passion. We learned some introductory Portuguese, which looks enough like Spanish for me to feel moderately comfortable learning it, and also discussed the complicated and fascinating histories of race and Brazil. I enjoyed every second.

To make up for our lack of cultural stimulation that morning, our group decided to visit an alley with street art close to our homes. Unfortunately, a downpour of pelting rain cancelled our plans (Strike 2) and forced us to seek shelter in a random bus (since we weren’t quite sure which we’d taken to get to school in the morning). Luckily, we’d chosen the correct one… Unluckily, we got out on the wrong stop.

It did give us the opportunity to explore a used bookstore and a restaurant named “California,” which I obv freaked out over.

me @ California

We finally got home at 6:30 PM, just in time for another fab dinner. We then went with our host sister (and her adorable daughter!!!!) to a diner down the street for an unreal Twix pastry. Though Sally, her home stay partners, Samantha, and I had promised each other we would meet up for drinks, we all passed out before 9 PM (Strike 3).

I’m truly loving my experience here already—I feel joyful, adventurous, excited, happy. Perhaps it’s just the euphoria of a new location, but part of me feels like I’ll be visiting Brazil, and all of South America, numerous times in the future. Time to soak in all of its initial wonderfulness for the next four and a half weeks!

Hope you enjoyed my first GIF-laden post after a month of lots of words--thanks for stickin' in there!!!

Bom tarde (good afternoon!),

Aubrey

A Classic Few Days

(From February 10)

I pick up my story from Monday, awakening after only six or so hours of rest to embark on another full week of experiential learning. While I was physically exhausted, I felt mentally and emotionally refreshed in a way that made me excited for the rest of the stay here in India. I’d gotten over the “hump.” I was halfway done with the actual time spent in India; I’d settled into my homestay; and I feared for my life a little less every time I rode in a rickshaw.

Classes were quite enjoyable on Monday, and I enjoyed immersing myself in the academics of India after a weekend of fun. It also happened to be one of my last full classroom days in India; most of the remaining week or so of school will involve field trips and site visits.

I also had the fun experience of eating what I thought was a SUPER spicy green bean, only to discover it was a freaking chili pepper. Sally and I finished the night by avidly watching “Belief,” that show on Discovery Channel that we look forward to literally all week.

Our host mother also informed us that she has begun to take English lessons! She’ll be moving from India in a few short months, so she’s decided to learn this worldwide language. Plus—she’ll be able to communicate with us! I’m stoked about it.

Tuesday was a weird day—but it also just felt so ~Indian~. Our class was supposed to visit a car factory about an “hour” away from our campus then visit a village nearby that had experienced adverse effects from the industrialization of their farm land.

Plot Twist #1: the factory was “closed” on Tuesday, so we were alerted that we’d simply wander the grounds and absorb information in that manner.

Plot Twist #2: the factory was not an hour away. It was about two and a half hours away. We arrived about an hour and a half after we were meant to be there.

Plot Twist #3: the factory itself was not the only thing closed; the grounds themselves were closed as well. So we stood at the gateway to get into the factory for about twenty minutes, while our faculty attempted to *persuade* (read: bribe) the officials to let us through. A few of us took matters into our own hands and linked arms to barricade the road in front of the factory in a manner of peaceful protest—but that ended in about .5 seconds when the guards yelled at us.

So, after failed begging and faulty protesting, we admitted defeat and drove to the nearby village.

It’s difficult for me to write about and describe that experience. The discomfort in pulling up to a dusty, dry, evidently impoverished neighborhood in an air-conditioned coach bus with twenty-nine other extremely privileged American students is so visceral and so powerful that it knocked me dumb. I didn’t know what to say when we passed children staring out at us through dung- and pollution-filled air. I didn’t know what to ask when we gathered a dozen awestruck villagers around our entitled group for an info center on their struggles and hardships. What do I say? I’m sorry? Thank you for sharing, I’ve got to go back to my cushy life in the US in a few months? See you later?

It’s not necessarily the feeling of inadequacy that I had last week—it’s more a frustration with my inability to do anything right now, it’s a discomfiting feeling of not belonging in the space I’m occupying, and it sucks. The potency of it during my time in the village crippled me, and I guiltily couldn’t wait to escape back onto my bus.

We were able to mildly express these emotions after a two-hour ride back to the school in which we debriefed on our visit. It wasn’t nearly enough, but we revisited it shortly.

Sally and I departed with other members of the group to visit the night markets after class. I enjoyed finding the perfect gifts for the rest of my friends and family.

I’m currently feeling absolutely sick to my stomach, so I’ve gotta cut this short and get to sleep. Hopefully it wears off and isn’t typhoid. Fingers crossed!

Toodles,

Aubs