Saturday, February 26, 2011

Floripa

Florianopolis is kind of like a Brasilian Hawaii.  Super beautiful: lots of wild open space, ocean, and tourists at the beaches :)

Traveling so far has definitely been stretching my ability to adapt in any situation.  It feels great, and I've been finding myself comfortable and grateful in most situations.  It's a different kind of comfortable than I am most familiar with though.  It's a making myself comfortable with whatever is happening.  Having no expectations helps a lot. 

If "bonita" or "linda" isn't the first thing people say to me, it's because it's the second or third, or we are hanging out long enough that they will have the opportunity to tell me later.  It's great for self esteem. 

People tell me I am doing great with my Portuguese, though I probably still sound like a three year old. I am getting a tiny bit more clear on irregular verb conjugations..  I am told even the Brasilians have trouble with the grammer!  Many, many verb forms to memorize, some are used only for writing, and others only for speaking.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

São Paulo

Brasil is about 10 years behind in many way, I think.  I'm in São Paulo, which I'm told by my host is the 6th largest city in the world.  It reminds me a lot of being in NYC about 10 years ago.  I've heard NYC has become very eco these days.  That is not the case here.  Everything is cars, exhaust, plastic, and the organics scene is almost non-existant.  And you know what that means, no natural body care products either.  Maybe a good business opportunity!

There are so many people here.  Yesterday I rode a subway car so completely packed with people there was no way to avoid full body contact with fellow riders.

I go to Florianopolis tonight, and I am ready.  The last two days have felt eternal.  I've been out of cities for so long I feel super foreign here, although on a physical level I blend in a lot more than anywhere else I've been yet.  Lots of Europeans settled here, and there is much less of the dark beautiful skin I love.

Not that I exactly blend in anywhere I've been so far...  Yesterday someone actually tried to grope my armpit while exlaiming how exotic unshaven women are!  Meu Deus!!!

Monday, February 21, 2011

Imagens


the nightly after-hours break in



amigos Sarathi e Jiva, Alto Paraiso

Caê!

Alto Paraiso, muito especial lugar alto

Caê e Jaya

em ceremonia


com amigos la fora Brasilia

muito linda!!


novas amigas

Saturday, February 19, 2011

10 days

I've been in Brasil for 10 days now.  It feels so much longer than that!  I can't find the question mark on this keyboard to save my life.  I swear it's not here.  I am in Brasilia now.  I followed the flow and came with Sarathi, her son, and our friend Jiva who was also staying at her house in Alto to visit her guru from India. 

After three days in Brasilia with Sarathi and company I made what at the time felt like an escape to stay with a lovely new friend Cae and his girlfriend (sua namorada) Jaya.  Tonight we will go to my first ayahuasca ceremony in Brasil.  It is with a non-traditional group led by a woman. Cae tells me this groups "does very high work with angels and archangels."  Cae and Jaya both speaks zero English.  It's challenging and great.  I am learning so much.

The first week with Sarathi in Alto Paraiso (High Paradise) was a lot of sleeping, feeling groggy, and acclimating to an immediate shift into summer and long days of daylight.  I met Sarathi in Oregon, where we had a lovely and deep connection.  Here we have had some good talks and time together, but it has been different.  She has become a Hare Krshna devotee since we last saw each other, and she is very immersed in the bhakti right now, wanting to spend her time studying, chanting, and making prayers.  The other day I remembered my dear friend Ethan talking about how there are different branches of activism, each one holding equal importance.  The one in particular I was thinking of I think he just calls spiritual activism, where people are led by Spirit to spend every moment of their lives in prayer and spiritual practice.  Maybe that is what Sarathi is becoming.  I see how for myself, I so much value and aspire to have profound spiritual experience and connection with the Divine that serves to make me more and more effective on the physical plane, balanced in ability to affect change in energetic realms as well as material.  I am not sure if Ethan has a name for that branch.   

The Hare Krshna experience was super interesting.  Now that I'm not in it I feel like I absorbed some great vibrations from being there.  In the moment I enjoyed only the singing and dancing.  Maharaj, the guru, talking for hours on end while my blood sugar plummeted to excruciating depths was enough to give me a short term eating disorder.  Not supposed to eat until after the teaching and everyone dances and sings and someone shakes a white fluffy pom pom and a peacock feather fan at the alter, blows a horn, etc, which all finally happens at almost 11 at night.  I could barely understand Maharaj's English, and not much of the rapidly translated Portuguese.  I tried to meditate or look up words in the dictionary, but often I just felt narcoleptic during the talks.  At times I was reminded of attitudes I've experienced in fundamental Christian circles. I had the underlying impression that I was expected to be a Krshna devotee, that I wasn't quite up to par spiritually since I wasn't, and that the devotees hoped that I would have an awakening one day and find my guru.

Despite all of this I did feel mostly relaxed throughout the whole thing, slept as late as my body asked of me though everyone else woke up at 4am for morning prayers, left the talks when my knees and hips were screaming about sitting too long, and snuck out to go running in my short shorts that are of course not allowed in the temple.  I loved the woman who was preparing the food.  I helped her in the kitchen, cleaned up around the house, and felt happy and grateful to be of service to a group of people who were having spiritual experiences of high importance to them, even though I wasn't having that experience myself. 

Maharaj questioned me in the kitchen the other day, why was I not wearing tulsi beads.  Well, I don't have any (and I actually still don't know the significance).  Oh, he will give me some.  Brings them to me, and asks am I vegetarian, and to my surprise I find myself immediately answering yes!!  Maybe my mind was spontaneously giving the answer that I know was expected, or maybe now I am vegetarian.  Who knows.  It is probably terrible karma to lie to a guru.  I really didn't mean to though; I have no idea what came over me.  Anyway, now I have some super special tulsi beads from a guru that supposedly I can only wear if I am vegetarian.  Fine.  I am vegetarian in Brasil so far.

If someone gives me an unidentifiable food to try, most likely it is sweet.  Next most common is salty, then neutral.  I haven't tasted any of the other flavors here yet.   Brasilians love sugar and bread, even those who seem on the healthy living path.  (Hare Krshnas serve the most amazing cake after every dinner, and some kind of other desert after every lunch)  I am amazed the whole country does not have candida.  Maybe they do, I don't know. 

Here are some other things I have found.

Bathrooms are for getting very very wet.  Usually the whole room is tiled, and the shower is just on one side the room, with no separate enclosure.  Floor mop-sized squeegees are for pulling water towards the drain afterwards.  The only hot water anywhere is in the shower.  Every sink has one option: cool-warmish.

In Brasilia, full-on urban areas meet full-on country at a single intersection.  It's wild.  Turn a corner, and you leave pavement and shop-lined streets for green rolling hills and trees.  All over the city, people use donkeys or horses and carts to haul construction materials.

If you are driving and want to pass the car ahead of you, the thing to do is ride their tail at a distance of 10 feet, filling your car with deisel exhaust until you have an opportunity to speed by.  Stop signs are a casual suggestion.

If  you are ironing your clothes, try not to touch the cord because you may be able to feel the electrical current running through it, and it will give you the willies.

Brasilian culture is so different.  Maybe the phone works, the broken thing will get fixed, and maybe not.  Maybe you will talk to your friend tomorrow, or in ten years.  People like to know what things cost in the US, and compare prices.  Cell phones and internet are very expensive here.  So is gasoline.  It cost one of my hosts the equivalent of $80 US to fill the tank of a very compact SUV.

Brasilians hold incredibly consistent deep eye contact that is sometimes too intense for even me.  They stand or sit twice as close to one another, to me, as people do in the States.  And they are very welcoming, with everything. 

I have made some hilarious language mistakes so far.  My first attempts at "what time is it" (que horas sao) was more like "what prayers" (que oracoes) and trying to say "that's funny!" (ingressada)  came out as "churches!" (ingreijas)  My hosts crack up.  I have however, had no problems saying bread :)

Sending you all much love from the country that I am told "is the heart".  Grande abracos!

Friday, February 11, 2011

sexta-feira

Not only are the keys different but on this keyboard there are some that are just plain mis-labeled and I get a surprise outcome from my typing.

The three grocery stores in Alto Paraiso deliver your groceries to your house at no extra charge. More people than cars here it's explained to me when I ask. Pay your bill, leave your address..  unless they know where you live already.

Getting more language practice as my head settles into being here.  If spoken slowly, I can understand most things, which is exciting.  Fast, and none to a fifth is comprehensible.

It's Friday.  Acai smoothies for breakfast, capeoira tonight, don't know what in between.

It's green green green here, trees full of fruit and waterfalls within walking distance.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Leaving, coming

It feels surreal and also very natural all at the same time to be going to Brasil the day after tomorrow. It is a foot and a half deep with snow in Ohio and sometimes I can't even imagine there is somewhere warm and sunny right now. The sun did make a special guest appearance yesterday; felt like a good send-off, and it cleared my mind for last minute tasking.

I lay in bed before falling asleep thinking in Portuguese sentences now.  I've been practicing with a Rosetta Stone (thanks Brady) and quite a few mildly to extremely disturbing Brasilian films.  Seems they like lots of psychological layers (i.e. issues) in their stories.

I feel ready to take a break from speaking in English. So far I don't know how to say much in past or future tense.  Language only in the present is great for my brain.

Someone told me that the word for bread can easily be mis-pronounced by foreigners and becomes "penis".  For now I will try to avoid saying bread and study how the locals say it.  I've been thinking about weird double meaning or similar sounding words in our language.   Dyeing and dying is the best and weirdest pair I've come up with.  I'm having experiences with both here in the Midwest this visit.

My love of the color blue has prompted me to try my hand at vat dyeing with fiber-reactive dyes to get just the right hues I adore (thanks Mira).  So fun!!  My mom and sister have been teasing me about my quickly growing wardrobe in mostly blue. 

My Gram is 94 years old and in the last 6 months or so has started to age in a way that she's really struggling with.  We've had the most open and honest conversations during our visits in the last few weeks.  The last time I went to see her we were talking about her getting closer to death, and she said "I've never died before.. I don't know how to prepare!"  She is very organized, like me. 

This is my first experience as an adult of being close to someone who is at the end of their life and preparing to die.  My Gram and I have written letters regularly to one other for 10 years.  She stopped writing to me last summer when she began to have trouble using her hands due to rheumatoid arthritis.

I feel like I am taking her with me to Brasil in a way.  I'll carry my love for her many miles south, to the land that has called to my heart since I was a child, in a way I have no explanation for.  And I will write to her of the warm air and the birds singing and the beautiful sounding words that roll off my tongue and all that I find there that I don't yet know.