dwell comfortably in the midst of profound uncertainty.

It's been awhile...

2011-12-04T06:02:00.001+11:00

I know I haven't updated in a while. So what have I been up to for the past six months? Well, I'm still living in Chicago. For almost nine months now...

Oddly enough, it still feels new to me, and strange when I talk about it to other people. I guess because I never expected to spend even a small part of my life in a city colder than NYC. But aside from the weather, Chicago is a pretty great city, with blue water, clean streets, affordable rent and space to move around on the streets (four things that I'll be honest and admit NYC does not have...) I'm stuck in that awkward time when I go to New York and the people I know in Chicago tell me to have a safe trip "home." And then I leave New York and my family and friends tell me the same exact thing. It's hard for me to consider Chicago "home," but that's probably because I know I won't be here forever. In fact, I probably won't be anywhere forever. (The travel bug is a sickness that never seems to go away...) And you know what? I'm alright with that...

I am still teaching ESL. Yes, I know, it's hard to believe that I have stuck with the same job for a year and a half now. Quite the accomplishment.

The past seven months I have spent teaching at Education First, an international language school in downtown Chicago. My classes consist of students from all over the world. I spend three hours a day with each class, teaching them English (sometimes teaching myself before class), and in exchange learning about the customs and traditions from all around the world. That's more time than I spend with my family, my friends, and even Dan, whom I live with.

Yesterday, my students graduated.

My speech to my students went something like this, "I am going to make this short and sweet, because I am trying not to cry. This was my first group of students...(first teardrop begins formation), and I'm going (trying so hard to contain myself)...to miss (oh no, I can't stop it)...you all (full on tears)." Due to an inability to call each student up by their name I gestured for the entire class to come up to the front of the room to receive their certificates. I have to admit that this was my first time crying in front of a group of 100 or so people. Embarrassing? I'd say so.

It might be because it's that time of the month, or because in saying "goodbye" to this group of students, I was also saying "goodbye" to a part of myself. Over the last seven months I have seen these students grow from timid foreigners with only a beginner's knowledge of English, into confident English speakers that I now consider to be friends. At first, they could barely understand a word I said. But by the end, we had shared stories about our lives, our passions, and our opinions on almost every topic imaginable. They know almost everything about me, and I know a darn lot about them too.

Some of my students live up to their stereotypes (some of the South American students are affectionate, the Asian students are studious, and the Russian students seem a bit cold), but what is amazing is that fact that so many don't.

Tomorrow I start again with a new class. A new group of students, who I'm sure will be much different than the first...

26 days, 1200 miles, on a bicycle...

2011-06-03T07:03:00.001+10:00

Sometimes out of the hardest challenges, come the greatest lessons learned.

As I sit at the airport writing this, I feel strange not having my bicycle alongside me. After 26 days and over 1200 miles of riding, my bicycle has become a home to me. The seat rubbing against my padded shorts, the noise of my un-oiled chains turning as I peddle, and the constant feeling of soreness in my legs, have all become familiar to me. My bicycle and I have developed a love/hate relationship, characteristic of two things that spend every waking moment together. I battled with the clip-ins at first, but I eventually developed a routine when it came to switching gears and manuvering through traffic. Biking quickly switched from being a casual hobby to my full time job, spending 7-8 hours a day leaning forward with arms outstretched and legs rotating almost unconsciously.

Before the trip I had never been to Canada nor the Pacific Northwest; now I can confidently say that I have.

When bicycle touring, life is fairly simple. I began to realize what things are truly important at the moment, typically being either food, water or finding a place to sleep. I learned that everything I need to survive can fit easily onto the back of a bicycle. I began to cherish the small things: moments of sunshine, clean clothes, dry towels, free food samples at the grocery store.

There were times that were rough; days filled with rain, falling over railroad tracks, moments when my entire body was cold and wet, never ending hills and even dog attacks (dogs leaped over streams and jumped through barbed wire fences to attack us). But, squeezed in between were some of the most memorable experiences I have ever had.

About half of our nights were spent camping, but the other half were spent staying at homes offered to us through couchsurfing.com and warmshowers.org (two of the best websites ever created). And those experiences truly defined our trip. To me, one of the best parts of traveling is your encounters with locals along the way.

We stayed with people from many different walks of life: fishermen who informed us about the wind speeds we'd encounter ahead, a nurse who worked purely to fund his windsurfing addiction, a tree cutter who started his own business in the heart of the California redwoods, a hippie who converted a schoolbus into a place for travelers to stay, a jobless, homeless engineer who gave up everything he had to hit the road, a physicist who supported himself and his family through solar energy and farming, a German couple who had toured ten countries and spent two hours helping us fix a broken spoke, a retired couple who decided to embark on a two year tandem bicycle ride, a park ranger whose cooking and drawing skills were unmatched, a yoga instructor, falconer, and horse back riding instructor who all followed their passions to end up where they are. The generousity of the people we met along the way is indescribable.

Along the way, I learned some things...
- The rumors are true; it rains a lot in the Pacific Northwest. But people are willing to accept it in exchange for the mountains and beautiful coastline.
- You say and do ridiculous things when your body is exhausted.

- Leaving food outside the tent while camping is not a good idea.
- Goats can get aggressive.
- Oatmeal can taste good when smothered in sugar.
- Sometimes the most terrible moments later make for the funniest.
- Changing a flat tire isn't too hard if you know what you're doing. Changing a spoke is.
- Getting stuck in an elevator is a lot less scary when the door is transparent, and also a lot more humorous.
- A lot can be learned about a person by entering into their home.

- Taking your helmet off when not riding might sound like the appropriate thing to do, but sometimes it's just more convenient to keep it on.
- Biking without sunscreen can cause really awkward tan lines.

Follow my bike trip!

2011-05-20T11:16:00.001+10:00

www.bikeforchange.wordpress.com

Bike for Change

2011-04-28T10:40:00.000+10:00

It all started as a spontaneous idea conceived over some hot chocolate.

I'm not quite sure who initially said it, but somehow both Vikki and I knew right away that it was something we needed to do.

"Let's plan a long distance bike trip."

A few weeks later Vikki called me up on the phone...

"Were you actually serious about planning a bike trip?" she asked.
"Yeah," I replied, "were you?"
"Of course," she immediately replied.
"Let's do it then."

And so the planning began. How long should our bike trip be? How many miles a day are we capable of riding? What time of year should we go? Should it be across the United States? Through South America? We shot around ideas for awhile, before deciding that our bike trip would be a one month journey from Vancouver to San Francisco in May, averaging about 50 miles a day. This was back in January...

Now here we are, quickly approaching the beginning of our trip. How have I been preparing you might ask? Well, about that...it's quite cold in Chicago (and not to mention rainy recently), so my training has not been going as initially planned. After being caught ten miles away in the pouring rain, I have given up on training for a bit, in the hopes that all my years of playing soccer have made my leg muscles strong enough to endure whatever might be thrown at them. According to my grandfather (who bikes 30 miles a day), that won't cut it, but I guess it's too late now...

Our bike trip will be raising money for Support for International Change (SIC), a charity that Vikki volunteered with in Tanzania. We have already raised almost $2500, which is much more than we initially planned! (www.bikeforchange.wordpress.org).

We plan to camp the entire time. Surprisingly, I have not been camping too many times. In fact I can count on my two hands the number of times I have gone camping in my entire life. I guess by June I will have added 40 to that number...Packing will be quite the challenge since everything I need must fit into two panniers that attach to the back of the bike. Our only plan is to somehow make it from Vancouver, Canada to San Francisco in five weeks, without killing ourselves or one another. Should be quite the adventure...

Oh, life.

2011-03-16T01:06:00.000+11:00

Things in Chicago have been going well. The weather is starting to warm up a bit and my days are spent traveling amongst four different high schools teaching. Being at four different high schools has given me the opportunity to see the different ways schools are run, and evaluate the quality of the teachers. Up until this point each high school has failed to impress, except one, Urban Prep. Urban Prep is the only all-male, all-African American public college preparatory high school in the country. As I rang the doorbell at the entrance on my first day, I was unsure what to expect. The door slowly opened for me and I entered into a mass of young men with shaved heads dressed in blazers and ties. The students stared at me, rushing forward to push aside any doors that might get in my way as I wandered through the halls searching for my classroom. At Urban Prep, each grade level is divided into groups of twenty students known as "prides." I was assigned to the prides named "Resilience" and "Solidarity." I met with the college counselor who informed me that the students were referred to Mr. proceeded by their last name and I should be referred to in the same manner. Interesting. My experience since then has been nothing short of great. The students raise their hands when I ask questions, they follow along in their books, they even thank me after class. Such a difference.

But perhaps not as entertaining as the classes at my other high schools. Three days a week, I take over the English class of a teacher at one of my high schools (I will leave out names). These days are the highlight of her week as she doesn't have to do anything. At the beginning of class she walks around the room checking homework as the students on the opposite side of the room scramble to circle any answer choice. She then congratulates the class for doing their homework and takes a seat by her laptop while I take the lead. Occasionally she interrupts me to take attendance in the midst of my lesson or ask me a question about something I clarified for the students a minute or two earlier. Yesterday she decided to actually pay attention to my lesson and whisper the answers to the students as I asked them questions. "What is X multiplied by another X?" "Two X" she whispered to her students, as I explained that the answer was "X squared." "What is the square root of 4?" I asked as we simplified a problem. "16" she whispered, as some of the more intelligent students giggled and correctly answered "two." Now I understand why some of the students are still unable to read.

Things I have learned:

It doesn't take much to become a teacher nowadays. It's sad thinking of all the qualified teachers who can't find jobs, because of the unqualified teachers taking up space.

I have learned how to play spades and bridge and consequently have developed a card game addiction: to the point where i have dreams about playing different hands.

I learned that leaving your bike locked in the same spot for a couple of days is not a good idea. But that a decent bike can be purchased off Craigslist for really cheap.

I have learned that racquetball can make an arm sore for days. And two person knock-out can be a solid workout.

I have learned that certain roads in Chicago should never be biked on.

I have learned that I fall somewhere directly between a 53 and 55 inch bike frame.

Proctoring...gone wrong.

2011-02-23T15:03:00.001+11:00

Last week I proctored my first practice ACT exam at a high school on the south side (I have now become an expert on the various neighborhoods of southern Chicago). Throughout the duration of the ACT course, the students are encouraged to take practice ACT exams on Saturday mornings, under real-life circumstances, in preparation for the real ACT in April. I was given the what some may term as simple task of proctoring the exam; a task that I assumed would consist of me sitting at a desk towards the front of the room, keeping time while leisurely reading a book.

Boy, was I was wrong.

A handful of students took it upon themselves to devote the four hour testing period to catch up on weeks of sleep, while others decided to whip out their combs and nail files.

Most students selectively chose their favorite section and decided to throw small pieces of paper around during the rest of the test. When a small piece of paper fight led to a dictionary being chucked across the room I realized that I had to take control. So, I walked towards the back of the room and I did something that I have seldom done before; I raised my voice. And I broke out the sarcasm.

"Seriously, do I need to actually separate you two? Some students in the room actually want to go to college and don't need to be disrupted."

Surprisingly, it seemed to work and the students stopped throwing things at one another.

As I walked back towards the front of the classroom I heard one of the female students voices, "What the hell are you staring at?"

Luckily I had been facing the opposite direction so I knew she wasn't talking to me (those who know me know that I sometimes have a staring problem).

"I ain't staring at you, you b*tch," the girl to her left replied.
"You didn't just call me that. You wh*re," she retorted.
"It's better to be a wh*re than a b*tch," the other student shot right back.
"Ohh," the class echoed in unison.

I marched towards the girls and took my place directly in between them.

"How about we argue about this after the test?" I suggested, slightly fearful that a fist fight was going to break out any moment. "I am going to stand here for the rest of the test," I stated as I took my place.

A moment later I hear loud tapping, as I glance over and see a student forcefully tapping away on her cell phone. I figured this was better than a dictionary being tossed, or a fist fight, so I pretended not to notice.

"Excuse me," a student in the back row called for my attention.
"Yes?"
She's distracting me," he stated.
"You don't seem to have opened your test booklet yet and we're on Section 3, so please tell me what she is distracting you from," I replied.

The boy quieted down and returned to gesturing with the girl outside the window.

I sure showed them.

Frost bitten.

2011-02-12T02:42:00.000+11:00

So, this week I taught another day at Gage Prep, which went surprisingly well, based off how my first day went. Since I still don’t know most of the students’ names, I decided to pick out students at random and ask them to read. About halfway through the lesson one of the teachers in the room walked to the front and handed me a piece of paper which read, “Do NOT call on: the girl in the blue sweater to your left, the three boys and one girl in the back right corner.” This caught me a bit off guard, wondering exactly what might have happened if I had indeed called on them. After class the teacher informed me that those students had never learned to read. There I was trying to teach these students all about how to analyze science passages and understand charts and graphs, only to find out that some of the students didn’t even know how to read.

Thursday I began teaching at Bogan High School, a high school about twenty blocks south of Gage Prep. The former teacher had quit after just two sessions there, so I was a bit hesitant to begin. After making my way through the metal detector I found my way to the classroom. This was an after-school class, so it contained about fifteen students that had chosen to sign up for the class and seemed to be more encouraged to learn. About ten minutes into class a fight broke out in the hallway just outside my door and I became silent. “Am I supposed to go out there and handle this?” I asked my students. “No, you better stay inside,” Darius answered, “We don’t want you to get hurt.”

Thursday night I met up for drinks with Juan, a Mexican man I found on Craigslist who was looking to learn English. I am trying to learn Spanish, so I figured a language exchange with him would be ideal. It turned out Juan wasn’t as young as I anticipated, but our exchange went well and we decided to continue teaching one another once a week.

I am going to preface the remainder of this post by describing the current weather here in Chicago. The weather these past few days has averaged at a solid 10 degrees, with the wind chill making it feel like 1 degree. Despite wearing a bottom layer of spandex everywhere I go, I am constantly going numb in my toes, fingers and even my mouth. When a man asked me a question at the bus stop, it took all the energy I had to part my lips and respond. So, returning home on Thursday night to find that the heat in our apartment had broken wasn’t the best of surprises. As I sit here and write this, I am bundled up in layers upon layers with my winter coat, hat, scarf and gloves to top it off. I feel like I put a spell on myself from complaining so much about the cold. Let’s just say, I will never complain again…

Chi-town

2011-02-09T04:43:00.000+11:00

So, I have officially moved to Chicago, Chi-town, the "Windy City," whatever you want to call it. And I can confirm that it does in fact live up to it's cold, windy reputation. I guess the residents here put up with the cold months of winter, for all that Chicago offers in the spring and summer.

My first two weeks have been spent applying for jobs, meeting all of Dan's friends, accepting the fact that I don't have any of my own, decorating the apartment with free things from alleyways and cheap things from Craigslist and surviving the un-shoveled streets while managing to avoid frost bitten toes. All in all, a success.

I am here until May when I depart with my friend Vikki on a one-month long bike trip. My goal until then is to use Craigslist to create a tutoring empire and work as many part-time jobs as possible, so that I don't feel guilty about leaving in a few months time.

Getting my first part-time job here seemed a bit too easy. By day two, I was at my first day of training to become a tutor for Revolution Prep, a company offering ACT and SAT test preparation classes all throughout the country. I had informed the coordinator while interviewing that I had never taken the ACT, since on the east coast the SAT is much more common. She eased my nerves and convinced me that even without taking the test, I would be able to teach a test prep class.

She assigned me to Gage Park High School, a high school on the south side of Chicago, where they were offering an ACT prep class for free, to underprivileged students who otherwise would have been unable to afford it.

I accepted.

I arrived to Gage Park High School for my first day of class a bit early, unsure of what to expect. As I placed my bag onto the moving scanning machine and walked through the metal detector, it hit me...I was in the ghetto.

I found my way to my classroom and introduced myself to the teacher who would be monitoring the class while I taught. I wrote my name on the board and took my place at the podium to wait for the students to arrive. Slowly, the students began to pile in. With iPods in their ears, cell phones in their hands and pants sweeping the floor, about forty students took their seats.

Here goes nothing.

Teacher: "Everyone sit down. This is Miss Gantenhammer, she is going to be taking over the class on Mondays and Wednesdays from now through April."

Students: "Woah, that's a long name."

Me: "You can call me Miss G."

Teacher: "No you can't, you can call her Miss Gantenhammer, because that is her name and you are old enough to say it."

Not off to a great start.

The remainder of the class time was spent introducing the students to the ACT, and explaining the importance of the exam if they plan to attend college. Most of my comments were met with blank stares, as the students threw things at one another and left the room to get water and returned with chips. Once in a while their teacher would cut me off to discipline the students.

Teacher: "Jamal, can you repeat what I just said?"

Jamal: "Hell yeah I can. Can you repeat what I just said?"

Teacher: "It's important for you all to go to college."

Student: "Damn right, I gotta support my child."

On Wednesday, we start Science review. It's going to be an interesting three months...

La Bomba

2010-12-22T19:04:00.000+11:00

Buenos Aires...

2010-12-22T17:48:00.000+11:00

So, here I am at the airport in Sao Paulo. It is Wednesday at 4:40am, Sao Paulo time. I just awoke from my short nap on a hard, cold bench. The trip here has been an eventful one after going to the wrong airport in Buenos Aires and having to splurge on a cab to take me through an hour of traffic to the correct airport. I arrived to Sao Paulo at 1:30am, and my flight departs here at 12:45pm. After a three hour stop-over in Panama City, I arrive to New York at 2:30am on Thursday morning. Yep, I left Tuesday evening and arrive to New York on Thursday morning. That is what being frugal does to you.

But the good thing is, I love airports. And I don't mind sleeping on benches.

The past few days in Buenos Aires have been quite eventful. I arrived to Buenos Aires quite unprepared with just my backpack and a piece of paper with the name and address of a hostel I had booked a few days earlier.

Much to my expectations, the Spanish spoken in Buenos Aires is unlike anything I have ever heard. Generally in Spanish the word "tu" is used to say "you," however, in Buenos Aires, they use "vos" instead. "Yo" sounds more like "jo" and "ll" is pronounced "zh," rather than how I learned it for years to be pronounced like the letter "y." To add to the confusion, my knowledge of Portuguese has helped me to create my own unique Portu-span-glish language that nobody seems to understand.

Despite the language barrier and the delay (word of advice: never fly Aerolineas Argentinas), I figured out the bus routes and made it to my hostel before dark. And unfortunate for the traveler before me, but fortunate for me, the hostel bed I was supposed to stay in had bed bugs and I was given my own private room for the same price ($12 a day...I love hostels).

Most of my time in Buenos Aires was spent aimlessly exploring. One of my favorite parts of traveling alone is the ability to just walk in whatever direction my legs seem to choose at that moment in time. Sometimes my nose guides me, other times the sound of music or the noise of markets, but I always seem to end up somewhere interesting. To sum it up, Buenos Aires is a great city with tons of beautiful plazas and parks where you can stop to eat fresh croissants, empanadas or alfajores (delicious cookie/cake type desserts filled with dolce de leite and coconut). Each barrio, or neighborhood, is unique in its own way. And I managed to see all of them.

Some things I learned about Buenos Aires:

- Some of the neighborhoods are not the safest of places. When a man just ten feet in front of me was drunkingly swinging a wooden stick around, a police officer voluntarily escorted me to my destination. In just four days, I heard three stories of mugging attempts.

- It is not very difficult to survive on just empanadas, and at $1 each, quite affordable.

- The clothes in Buenos Aires are fashionable and cheap. And there is tons of shopping. I had to force myself to avoid these places because I would get too overwhelmed and I had no space in my backpack for more gifts.

- No matter how many times I try, "agua con gas" is just not as good as "agua sin gas."

- Don't take pictures of the tango dancers performing in the outdoor restaurants. Trust me, the male tango dancer walked off the stage in the midst of his performance to tell me this.

- La bomba is very entertaining. But the drunk Argentines dancing are even more entertaining.

- Don't go out on a balcony in a skirt when there is a parade composed entirely of men on the street below. If you do, casually wave your hand to enact a large cheer from the crowd.

- The people here refer to themselves as both Argentines and Argentinians.

- There might appear to be many poor, homeless dumpster divers in Buenos Aires, but in actuality they are hired by companies to sort through the trash. These wastepickers pick out recyclable elements from mixed waste baskets throughout the city every night.

- Buenos Aires is home to the widest road in the world. And it is pretty darn wide.

My last night the entire hostel decided to go out together to a local dance club. Apparently it is customary here to go out around 2am, and return as the sun rises.

Buenos Aires was a great ending to a great five months.

Vou sempre estar aprendendo...

2010-12-16T03:23:00.000+11:00

I have learned that sometimes friendship can break through a language barrier.

I have learned that deep down a good portion of people want to travel, but don't think that they have enough money to do so. But I have also learned that traveling does not have to be expensive. There is a way to be frugal, but also enjoy yourself.

I have learned that Brazilians have an innate gene that I am missing that enables them to move their hips and legs to the beat of any musical style.

I have learned that I can survive on purely rice, beans and fruits.

I have learned that for Brazilians soccer isn't just for fun, it's a part of life.

I have learned how to sleep without any sheets and to never complain about the heat in New York ever again.

I have learned that there is something that attracts people to Americans, that for some reason makes them fascinated and eager to learn more (I have yet to determine what exactly it is).

I have learned that people are generally good and that first impressions can often be deceiving.

I have learned more about English grammar than I ever thought possible.

I have learned that teaching has its pros and cons, but it is definitely something I want to continue to do, even if not as a profession.

I have learned that warm milk and cold showers aren't the end of the world.

I have learned to take risks and put myself in uncomfortable situations, because the risk of never taking a chance is worse than the outcome could possibly be.

I have learned it's better to spend more time in fewer places than to see more places in less time.

Time for a reflection...

2010-12-13T22:43:00.002+11:00

"People say that what we are all seeking is a meaning for life. I don't think this is what we're really seeking. I think what we're seeking is an experience of being alive."
- Joseph Campbell

I don't know who this Joseph Campbell character is, but I think he's onto something...

I spent my adolescent years trying my best to disguise myself in the crowd. Grades in school were important, so I made sure to receive top marks. I sneaked through my classes employing various techniques of memorization, only to soon after forget most of what I had learned. In high school, I continued this trend, engulfing myself in after school clubs and activities, some for the purpose of personal fulfillment, but others purely to boost my college resume. I succumbed to the standards set by society because that is what those around me were doing.

All my life I have felt like I was in a race. I never knew exactly who or what I was racing against, but I always made sure to maintain a solid lead.

However, over time something happened to me. My hair turned curly, my size small pants got a bit tighter, and one word began to continuously repeat itself in my mind.

Why?

The past couple of years I have been on this endless search to find my purpose in life.
And you know what? It's hard. And I have finally come to accept the fact that it might never be found.
So in the meantime, why not continue to explore, discover, and learn as much about the world as possible during the time that I am on it?

On Thursday morning I leave the small city of Lins to depart for Buenos Aires where I will spend a few days exploring before I return home to New York in time for Christmas.

What adventure is next? Who knows...

Tear.

2010-12-11T09:58:00.000+11:00

Yesterday was my last day of classes. And to the shock and awe of my friends, family, and even myself, I'll put it out there...

I cried.

No, not a gasping for air, crackling voice type of cry, but rather a straight faced cry where four or five solid tear drops trinkled down the side of my cheek.

Just one student was lucky enough to witness this unexpected display of emotion as the clock struck 9:30pm and she handed in the last test.

Five months of teaching English in a country that I once knew nothing about. Over in the blink of an eye.

"What was your favorite part of English class?" I asked my students, as a bonus question on the last test.

This generated a number of interesting responses, my favorite being:

"When we laugh because you laugh you learning more. I think it."

I think I am going to miss it here.

Walking in a summer wonderland...

2010-12-11T08:33:00.003+11:00

It is approaching Christmas and as I write this, I sit here in a tank top and shorts with sweat beads slowly dripping down my back. I never realized how hard it is to get into the Christmas spirit without cold weather, candy canes, stockings, gingerbread houses and endless Christmas music.

Brazilians believe in Santa Claus, or as they call him Papai Noel, but the Santa they believe in lives in Greenland, not the remote, unreachable location we Americans like to describe as the North Pole. It is strange seeing a man with a long beard, fur coat and hat decorating local ice cream shops here in Lins.

After forcing my classes to read and sing-a-long to my all time favorite Christmas songs, we got to discussing Christmas traditions. I learned that Brazilians don't hang stockings, leave cookies and milk out for Santa Claus or stand hopefully waiting for hours under mistletoe. This surprised me and made me curious about what other countries do to celebrate Christmas, so I did some research, and here are my findings...

In some Eastern European countries, there exists Santa's evil twin...a character named Krampus, who dresses in a devil-like costume and is believed to run around the town hitting children who have misbehaved with sticks.

In Spain, Portugal and Italy, it is a tradition to set up a model village of Bethlehem and along with Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus, a Caganer, or "shitter" is placed in the scene. The caganer is a figurine, traditionally of a man, in the act of defecating, pants around his knees, bending over with a pile of poop at his heels. He is usually placed in a corner, perhaps because he needs privacy.

In Germany, it is common to hide a pickle ornament in a hard-to-see spot in the Christmas tree. The child who finds the pickle on Christmas morning gets a special gift and good luck the following year.

For many Japanese, traditional Christmas dinner is Kentucky Fried Chicken. It is so popular and well marketed that reservations may have to be made to eat at a KFC on Christmas in Japan.

On the morning of Christmas day, people in Portugal have a traditional feast called a consoda. What makes this different is the fact that extra places are set and food is offered to relatives that have passed away.
In the Czech Republic, single women go out on Christmas Eve day and toss shoes. With their backs to the door, they throw one of their shoes over their shoulder. If the shoe lands with the heel facing the door, she’ll find herself single for another year. If the shoe lands with the toe facing the door, it means she should start making wedding plans.

In Caracas, Venezuela, people roller-skate to mass on Christmas Eve morning. The streets are blocked off to traffic until 8 am and children, the night before, tie one end of a piece of string to their big toes and hang the other end out the window. As roller skaters go by the next morning, they give a tug to all the strings hanging out the windows.

Interesting...

A Town Called Lins...

2010-12-09T08:02:00.001+11:00

I wrote this poem for my students when we were discussing rhyming words. I have discovered that I have a love of writing corny poems...

Two months ago, I moved to a small town called Lins,
Where every meal is served with rice and beans.

In this town people love to eat meat,

And on Election Day papers are thrown into the street.

There are plenty of new and delicious fruits for me to try,

But nothing beats brigadero, I am not going to lie.

A lot of people have motorbikes on which they ride.

Every house is surrounded by a gate that you must unlock before going inside.

The streets are bumpy and the city is on a hill.

Many people of the town have great soccer skill.

It’s not unusual for students in the town to be late to class,

and every Sunday everything closes and the entire town goes to mass!
My showers are cold and the weather is hot.

The milk lasts for months and never seems to rot!
My house does not have air conditioning, only a fan.

All this sun better at least give me a tan!
Sometimes near my house a young boy sits up in the tree.

And every time I walk by he manages to scare me.
Sometimes giant bugs fly in through my window and around my room,

But I have learned how to kill them by hitting them with my broom.
When the people of the town are frustrated they say, “aye yay.”

I leave my clothes outside on the clothesline and they take a full day to dry.
People look at me strangely when I go for a run,

But they are the strange ones because they think driving in circles is fun.
Even in the summer people eat hot meals.

The girls won’t go out at night without their high heels.
Cars drive by blasting music very loud,

And at night the discos attract a very large crowd.

When meeting someone new they put out the left cheek to kiss.

These are just some of the things about Lins that I am going to miss.

A "radical" weekend...

2010-12-02T21:39:00.001+11:00

Preface: This weekend I traveled to Brotas for a weekend of adventure sports. Unfortunately, I didn't consider that the sports require guidance and safety precautions that would be spoken in Portuguese. I guess that made it all the more adventure.

Rafting
I have always wanted to go white water rafting. When I was younger I remember convincing my sister and her boyfriend at the time (now husband) to drive my friend Sarah and I to White Water Willies. After a four hour ride to Delaware, we learned that in reality White Water Willies did not have white water rafting. So, we took it upon ourselves to carry the raft to the top of a waterfall and create our own white water adventure.

When I saw the option to go rafting in Brotas, I jumped at the opportunity. Although the rafting was not as exhilerating as I would have liked there was a small moment when I thought I had lost my life. Let me explain. Halfway through the rafting adventure, there came a point where everyone stepped out of the raft. Confused, Rachel and I stared as the instructor stated some instructions. He explained that we would be going down a natural rock water slide. One by one the people in my raft lied in the water, arms spread and legs crossed. And one by one they gently glided away with the current. Until it was my turn. I took my place in the water, positioned as shown, held my breath and was off with the current. At first the ride was slow, but just as I was about to take in some air, my body was tossed under water and pushed ahead. I gasped for air as I was plummeted forward. My first ever underwater waterslide experience. And hopefully my last...

The remainder of the rafting trip consisted of the instructor yelling things such as "pare" (stop), "piso" (get down and hold on) and "frente" (forward). After completing each waterfall our team would put our oars together and yell a chant that to me sounded something like "blah blah blah blah blah BROTASSSS!" but I later learned was "Nos capota mas nao breca," meaning we roll, but we don't stop.

Canyoning
I have been at the top of the waterfall looking down. I have been surrounded by waterfalls on all four sides. I have been able to observe waterfalls from afar. I have been swimming underneath waterfalls, and jumping off of waterfalls. And after this weekend I have even canyoned right alongside a waterfall. Canyoning is the sport of propeling yourself down a waterfall, with a rope tied to both the top and the bottom. The sport in itself could be dangerous if you were to go at it alone, but with support in every direction I wasn't too afraid. On the way down it was amazing to pause and look at the beautiful rainbow just inches from my head.

Tirolesa (Zip-lining)
Not much to describe here. Imagine flying high above the trees of the forest attached by just a harness to a tight rope. And then imagine walking through the jungle to a secluded waterfall with butterflies soaring around your head.

Our last day was spent exploring Brotas and hanging out with teenage boys and jumping over waterfalls. It was amusing to see the shocked expressions on the young Brazilians' faces upon seeing two blonde haired white girls join them on the top of the waterfall cliff.

The kindness of a stranger...

2010-12-02T21:26:00.002+11:00

This past weekend Rachel and I planned a last minute trip to Brotas. After a little bit of searching I found a package that consisted of two nights in a hotel, rafting, canyoning and zip-lining all for the equivalent of $200 USD. Amazing? I think so.

After taking two of the most beautiful bus rides I have ever been on, we arrived in Brotas with nothing but our backpacks and a piece of paper with the hotel name and address. According to my students, Brotas is a popular tourist destination in Brazil, so arriving at the bus station I was taken aback by how tiny it was.

With no cell phone, and not a taxi cab in sight, Rachel and I wandered around aimlessly for a bit (this seems to be a common occurrence nowadays). While discussing our possible options, which included walking ourselves or hitch-hiking, Rachel noticed a young girl waving from a few feet away.

"Hello. Do you need help?" she asked in perfect English.
"Yes, actually we do," we replied showing her our hotel address and asking if there was a local bus we could take to get there.
"That hotel is about 20 miles away," she calmly answered, "and the last bus left a little while ago."
Rachel and I stared blankly at one another.
"I can drive you," she offered.

We resisted her offer with the same oomph that a typical girl would resist an offer from a man to pay for the meal on the first date. I'll call it the "You really shouldn't, but damn right I am going to accept it if you offer again" way.

Rachel and I: "No, it's so far away!" (Refusal #1)
Brazilian girl: "It's fine. There is no other way to get there."
Rachel and I: "Really, we'll figure it out. Don't worry!" (Refusal #2)
Brazilian girl: "No, I am driving you."
Rachel and I: "Okay, if you insist." (Acceptance, but seemingly against our will)

Maria, as we later learned her name, had spent two years nannying in Atlanta and spoke fluent English. She drove us to our hotel and even offered us a place to stay on our last night in Brotas, which we were unable to refuse (since apparently no buses leave Brotas on Sundays and we would need to stay an extra day). Maria was one of those people that helps to confirm my belief that humans are genuinely kind hearted.

I have always been trusting of people, and I never really knew why. But I guess it is because I have never been given a reason not to be.

Feliz Dia de Obrigada!

2010-11-26T23:14:00.003+11:00

Despite my inability to stay in one place, this year was the first Thanksgiving I was away from home. I missed the 4th of July when I was studying in London, but a trip to a Hard Rock Cafe decorated with American flags and memorabilia made up for it. I missed Easter when I was working in Australia, but Dan and I managed to make our own Easter dinner consisting of kangaroo and Asian noodles. But what was different about yesterday was the fact that in Brazil nobody knows what Thanksgiving is.

I took it upon myself to devote the day to teaching my classes about the history and traditions associated with this great American holiday. And they took this day to suck up to me.

Me: On Thanksgiving it is common for families to talk about the things they are thankful for. What are you thankful for?

Student: Teacher, I am thankful for you.**
(When you read this in your mind you must pronounce "teacher" as if it were spelled "tee-sher")

**This happens to be the response that I enjoyed the most...the remainder of the class found other seemingly more important things to be thankful for.

While the students were writing their responses, I compiled my own list of things that I was thankful for.

Things I am thankful for:

- I'll get it out of the way first by stating the obvious: my health (minus my inability to run as far as I used to), my supportive and a tad bit crazy family, my amazing friends and my extremely patient boyfriend.

- My fourteen year old cat, who I hope that upon returning home is still able to jump up onto the kitchen table and sprinkle his hair on the top of all our meals.

- I will group the food into one category since there is so much of it: First and foremost, pinto beans, which have made my life in Brazil complete. Acerola juice, brigadero, dolce de leite, mangoes, acai with granola, jabuticaba, mocoto and goiaba, which I am going to sorely miss upon leaving Brazil. And of course, back in the United States, Special K, which I could not have survived college without. Honey wheat pretzels, peanut butter and nutella sandwiches, and Raisinettes, which make the long road trips and flights much more bearable. New York bagels, Chicago deep dish pizza, Wisconsin cheese curds, San Francisco sourdough bread, Munich potato dumplings, my mother's meatballs and my grandmother's delicious spaetalae. And I can't forget Moe's and Red Mango.

- I am thankful for not currently being in a prison in Paraguay, for surviving numerous mototaxi rides, for my bungee cord holding tightly in New Zealand, for not getting kidnapped while hitch-hiking in the US, for my parachute releasing at the correct time while sky diving (okay, perhaps a few seconds late) and for surviving the Peru flu, among many other things...

- The invention of the airplane, which can successfully take me to a new cultural experience in a matter of hours.

- My GPS, which never lets me down (except the times it takes me through the streets of Time Square on a "shortcut".)

- Soccer, which has provided me with uncountable hours of entertainment and friendships.

- Couchsurfing, which has introduced me to some great people and provided me with free places to stay in Australia, New Zealand and Brazil.

After discussing the things we were thankful for, we watched clips from the Thanksgiving Day Parade on the internet while my family emailed me pictures of their tur-duck-en dinner and Dan texted me about his disappointment in finding apples in his stuffing.

Definitely a Thanksgiving unlike any other.

And time for some more interesting facts...

2010-11-20T07:46:00.001+11:00

- The average life expectancy in Angola is currently 38 years old. The second lowest in the world (Swaziland is lowest with 32-- for those who are curious the US holds the #38 spot with a life expectancy of 78, and Japan wins with 83). The high infant mortality rate and widespread malaria are two of the reasons why. When I asked my Angolan students if they knew anyone with malaria, one student calmly replied, "I get malaria every year." He then proceeded to tell me that once a year his tongue will get really dry and he'll know that it's time to go to the doctor. No big deal.

- "Vestibular" is a university entrance exam in Brazil used by Brazilian universities to select students. Each university has different exams that are given between the months of November and January. When a Brazilian boy passes his "vestibular" exam and is accepted into a university, it is common for him to have his head shaved by a close friend. Slowly but surely, my male students are starting to become bald...

- It is customary in Brazil, when it is your birthday, to have an egg cracked on your head.

An Angolan weekend...

2010-11-15T11:10:00.002+11:00

Last night I visited Angola.

Well, not really. But as close as I could come without stepping foot on an airplane. I learned about the culture, and experienced the people, the food, the music and the dancing.

A good portion of my students here in Brazil are from Angola. Angola is a country on the western coast of Africa, that before coming to Brazil I knew nothing about. Every year, selected Angolan students are sent over to Brazil to attend university. After passing an exam these students are given the opportunity to attend university abroad in Brazil, Portugal, France, the UK or the US. However, the country is not their choosing and often times their field of study isn't either. In addition, upon being granted the scholarship, the students sign a contract committing themselves to working for a company in Angola for a few years after they complete university.

The Angolan students in my classes are among the 7% of Angolans that attend university and are among the friendliest, most intelligent and driven people I have ever met.

Angola was formerly a colony of Portugal, but gained its independence in 1975, so when my students invited me to a party to celebrate Angolan Independence Day, I couldn't turn the offer down.

Rachel and I arrived to the party at 7:00pm (the time written on the invitation), and to our surprise no one was there. We later learned that it was Angolan custom to be late...very late. The majority of guests arrived around 8:30pm.

What followed was one of the most entertaining shows I have ever seen of Angolan music, dancing, singing and fashion trends. Two of my students walked Rachel and I through the buffet line explaining all the delicious options to us.

After dinner, we sang "Parabens" or "Happy Birthday" to Angola, and then boarded a bus to continue the party at someone's house.

The house consisted of a large empty room, equipped with two laptops and a huge speaker. When we arrived the music was blaring and the Angolans took to dancing right away.

Angolan dancing consists of two main dancing styles, each unlike anything I have ever seen. The slower dancing is very slow and sensual, as the men and women close their eyes and move together in the same, repetitive motion. After observing this dancing technique, I now understand why the average Angolan family has five children.

The faster dancing is the complete opposite. It is called "kuduro" and it is the most high-energy dancing style I have ever seen. Watching the Angolans dance "kuduro" is like watching a group of people all electrocuted at the same time. Traditional drums and whistles sound as Angolan bodies begin to gyrate furiously. They develop into a trance-like state as they seem to lose control over their body and thrust their pelvis back and forth in abrupt motions. They kick their legs around, and at random moments, they get on all fours and crawl around the floor. Basically anything goes.

I can only imagine what I looked like as I tried to mimic their dance moves.

I think my students teach me more than I teach them...

2010-11-13T02:05:00.000+11:00

- It is amazing to notice the subtle similarities that exist between cultures. This past week I explained the concept of "pet peeves" to my students and after giving them some examples, I had them come up with their own. We reached the conclusion that every country has those annoying people that talk through entire movies, the student that feels the need to click his/her pen during tests, the person that licks their fingers to turn the page of a book, the people that stop in the middle of the sidewalk to talk, and the person that parks in two parking spaces.

- After watching "Eat, Pray, Love" and noticing that the Brazilian man sounded nothing like a Brazilian should sound, I have realized that I am beginning to become an expert at recognizing the Brazilian accent. Brazilians have the most trouble with the letter "t." It is common for Brazilians to pronounce "t" as if it is "ch" and for "tea" to sound like "chee" and "to" like "chew." In addition, some words that I would have never thought sounded alike, often sound exactly the same to them. Last class we spent about ten minutes repeating the words "said" and "sad."

- I sympathize with my student's trouble pronouncing English words, because no matter how hard I try, I still cannot pronounce the "r," due to my inability to roll my tongue, or "ã" due to my inability to sound like I always have a head cold.

- I have come to the conclusion that any discussion purely in English is beneficial to the students, so I have taken it upon myself to ask the students questions that interest me. As a result, I am becoming an expert on Brazilian culture. Some weeks we discuss sports (aka soccer), other weeks food or popular customs and traditions. But this week the topic was politics and controversial issues.

After describing the different American political parties to my students, trying my best not to be biased, I asked them which party they thought I might belong to. They knew right away.

Being raised in New York and attending university in New York City, many modern controversial issues seem like a no-brainer to me and many of my peers. But in Brazil, a country where religion plays a huge role in everyone's life, I found my student's views to be much different than my own.

One student tried to convince me that nobody in Angola was homosexual, because it was not in the genes there (interesting...). What followed was one of the most interesting discussions I have ever had about prostitution, drugs, abortion, euthanasia, animal research, and health care...I hope they learned something, because I sure know that I did.

Pantanal

2010-11-04T07:43:00.009+11:00

To describe this past weekend in a blog post is impossible, but I am going to try my best (with the help of some pictures).

My friend, Irua, was raised in Pantanal and spoke wonders of it from the first day we met. So, when we were given a few days off, Rachel and I decided to travel with Irua back to his hometown to see if it was really all he cracked it up to be.

...and it was.

Pantanal is the world's largest wetlands. No, it is not the Amazon, and in fact, it is scarcely known throughout the world, and even unknown by some Brazilians. Imagine a place with over 600 species of birds (parrots, toucans, owls...), over 200 species of fish, an uncountable number of butterflies, crocodiles (or caiman), capybaras (the largest rodent in the world), monkeys, giant anteaters, armadillos and tons of other animals.

The rainy season goes from December to March. During it, the rain is intense, and the temperature is high, and Pantanal gets flooded. Fortunately, we arrived in Pantanal at the end of dry season (and aside from the severe thunderstorm in the middle of our boating safari), we managed to stay pretty dry.
During our four days in Pantanal I was introduced to more fruits than I have been in my entire life. It was almost surreal to be able to walk around the town and just reach up for some fruit whenever I had the slight urge to eat something.

I ate acerola, (which contains 100 times the vitamin C of oranges), jabuticabas, Indian bubble gum, tomatinhos, and more mangoes than I have eaten in my entire life.

To be honest, I wouldn't even mind being a vegetarian if I lived in Pantanal. Despite the fact that the meat is also delicious there!

Our last two days were spent at a family farm where we were surrounded by horses, cows, roosters, peacocks, monkeys, calves, Angolan chickens, and parakeets.

We spent the first day zip-lining from the top of the mountain into the river below and the night chatting in broken Portu-glish with the other people on the farm.

I fell asleep on one of the many hammocks just a few feet away from one of the horses and was awoken in the morning to the sunrise and a parakeet sitting on my head.

In the morning, we milked the cow and then filled our hands with corn pellets to feed the monkeys. After feeding the animals, we fed ourselves and marched 866 steps up to the top of one of the most beautiful waterfalls I have ever seen.

Returning home this morning after an overnight bus ride felt like waking up from a dream....

The hottest day of my life.

2010-11-04T06:16:00.000+11:00

If someone were to ask me about the coldest moment in my life, I would know my answer without a moment's hesitation. I was eleven or twelve years old, playing a State cup soccer game in a town nearby and it was not only freezing cold, but sleeting. I was wearing shorts, a tshirt with long sleeves underneath and my entire team was on the verge of crying in the middle of the soccer field because we were unable to move. The game was called off at halftime and it took about a week to regain feeling in my fingers and toes.

Before this weekend if someone asked me about the hottest moment in my life, I would be unsure of my reply. There have been plenty of heat advisory days in New York where I would choose to go for a run, or times at the beach when I have thought that I could form a pool with my own sweat.

But after this weekend, I know my answer: a Friday in October in Pantanal, Brazil.

Typically when I am hot, I know that there is some way to escape. In college, I could look forward to arriving back to my air conditioned room. I could go to the mall, the library or just any old store to escape the heat. In Pantanal things are different. For the first time in my life there was no escape. The heat took over my entire body transforming me into a lazy mute, unable to move and requiring too much energy to even speak. I am not sure what temperature Pantanal reached midday, but judging from the 99 degree reading at 11pm later that night, I can only imagine it was somewhere around 106 degrees.

And yes, it is spring here. I can't even imagine what the summer has in store...

Out of place...

2010-10-29T06:08:00.002+11:00

Yesterday I learned what it feels like to be a monkey in a zoo. Surrounded by groups of people staring at you, whispering about you in an unknown language and waiting to see what you will do next. Except I was not actually in a zoo--I was in a Brazilian public high school.

Let me preface this story by explaining that a few days ago while watching a futsal game I met a Brazilian English teacher who after speaking with me awhile asked if I would mind coming to her class, talking to her students and showing them some pictures. I, of course, replied "yes," and volunteered Rachel along as well.

Yesterday morning Rachel and I motortaxied our way to the high school bright and early and were awoken by swarms of Brazilian teenagers. The teacher met us and after thanking us about twenty times for coming, accompanied us into a classroom. The classroom was much larger than expected and filled with teenagers. As we took our spot in front of the classroom, teenagers continued to flood the room, well surpassing the fire hazard limit. The students spoke about us in Portguese (although I didn't understand much, it's not hard to recognize the word "Americana") as the teacher tried her best to yell over the voices of the students.

The next twenty minutes consisted of the students staring at us and managing to successfully ask us five questions over the chatter of the other students. 1. What is your name? 2. Where are you from? 3. How old are you? 4. What Brazilian soccer team do you like? and 5. Do you have a boyfriend?

After posing as a show and tell item, I proceeded to show the students pictures of the English speaking countries I have visited while they looked on in amazement.

"I love you," one of the boys in the back of the classroom shouted to the front as the others burst into laugher.

Once the class ended the students rushed to the front to take pictures with us. As they lined up to take pictures with me, I couldn't help but wonder what exactly made me so special in their eyes. Was it the fact that I had blonde hair and eyes just a shade lighter than theirs? Perhaps it was the fact that I happened to be born in the same country as Lady Gaga and Justin Bieber.

A group of students eagerly invited us to attend their dance class that began in a few minutes and Rachel and I took them up on their offer. We watched on in awe as the teenagers partnered up and performed the most sexual dance I have ever seen. Who knew that they practiced this in school? I didn't want the dancing to end because it was unlike anything I had ever seen and because I had a gut feeling that they were going to make me try once they finished.

I was right.

The next four minutes were among the most tortuous minutes of my life. Dancing with the Brazilian dance teacher in front of forty or so Brazilian students whose legs (and butts) were made for dancing, could quite possibly have been the most embarrassing thing I have ever done. But also one of the most fun...

Only in Brazil...

2010-10-25T11:31:00.002+11:00

- The Brazilian phrase for "cheers" is "tim tim," pronounced "ching ching" like glasses clinking together. Unfortunately, this is very similar to "xi xi," the Brazilian phrase meaning "pee pee." No wonder everyone looked at me strange last night.

- - The pronounciation between "coco," the Portuguese word for coconut, and "cocô," one of the Portuguese words for "shit"
isn't that much different either.

- Getting lost in Lins is much better in the daylight
than at 5am.

- Homemade feijoada is delicious, but to be honest,
some parts of the pig are a little too chewy for my taste.

- Every Brazilian man claims that he does not know
how to dance. But once you enter the night club,
you realize that every Brazilian man is a liar. In addition,
every Brazilian man assumes I can dance and doesn't
believe me when I inform them that I can't. It doesn't
take long for them to believe me though.

- Last night Rachel and I took it upon ourselves to invite
the teachers out for some drinks. The turnout was
better than expected, and after hanging out a few hours,
Rachel, two other teachers and I made our way to one
of the two local bars. To make a long story short, the
night ended with us puttering home in Gear 1 as Rachel
attempted to drive stick shift. Despite the abrupt stalls
in the middle of intersections, we managed to make it
home alive.

- Just outside of Lins, there are farms spanning in every
direction for miles. I have wanted to visit a farm since I
arrived, but despite the hints, I was never invited until
this past weekend. It was nice to escape the confines
of Lins and be surrounded by fruit trees and sugar cane.

- The other day for lunch I made myself a overflowing
plate full of a rice, corn, meat and beans mixture. I
gobbled down the plate in a matter of minutes, and
followed my typical trend of refilling my plate for
seconds (my stomach has definitely expanded since I
have been here). As I battled with my subconscious
about why I feel the need to eat more, the doorbell
rang and a man began speaking to me in Portuguese.
"Dona Katarina nao aqui," I said, not understanding a
word of what he was trying to say. "Nao falo
Portuguese," I added to let him know that I didn't
speak Portuguese. "Comida," he explained gesturing towards an empty plate. He
was asking for food. I went back inside the house and took my warm plate and waited patiently as he
engulfed it, secretly praying that Dona Katarina wouldn't come home and see me feeding random people in the
middle of the street.