U S of A

Here we go. The fog horns are blaring from the docks, the ships about to set sail. These last few weeks have been busy. Hours upon hours, stacked into oblivion, have been spent in front of the computer. My fingers gain dexterity as my body withers away—my eyes red and drying as I stare into my digital world, typing away papers, planning Dragons curriculum, getting my shit together. Now, with my list fully checked, I begin the pensive crawl back to my homeland and away from my city by the sea.

How will things look this time around? Will they be larger, fuller, fatter than before? How about the frenzy, franchises, french fries, or maybe a tap of star and stripe diversity? How about the beer?

The most salient change that travel demands is a reexamination of one’s own society. Will I be more/less critical than before? Have I fasted on America for too long?

My bags are packed, last hand of poker to play before a sprint to the docks.

For this…

And the rest…

We shall see.

Oh Amewica.

Crime's No Joke

Here in Brazil, getting robbed is just a fact of life. Assaults are common place and there are few weeks that go by when I don't hear a new story.

When the majority of residents here in Salvador make less than R$400 a month (if you are lucky)...

When the cost of living is so high (at least 3 times as expensive as in the States)...

When the state lacks adequate public education...

And the system fails you...

And your options are few...

Some people turn to crime to TAKE what they WANT out of life.

Crime here is everywhere. It permeates daily life. It's not something you only read about or see in the news. It's not some disconnected puppet show, but something real, something that makes you look behind your back and keeps you wired.

Some recent stories that I can remember:

-A few weeks ago, the director of our school walked out of his office and was robbed at gunpoint. He said that the crook shook with nervousness when he pointed the gun in his direction. The thief took his car keys, stole his car, and was never seen or heard from again.

-Same week, one of the teachers was robbed at knife point walking home from the gym.

-Friend of mine went to dinner in Barra, a trendy beach side neighborhood. A group of five men entered the restaurant with automatic rifles. Everyone ran into the back and hid in the kitchen. The register was robbed and the crooks fled.

-Same friend was beaten onto the ground by three guys on a seperate incident. One held down his girlfriend. The two were robbed of all their belongings.

-That same friend was walking along the beach and a man with a machete ordered him to hand over his backpack. He dropped it and ran.

-My girlfriends cousin -- a security guard and black belt in jujitsu -- tried to resist when a group of guys rushed him. The thieves shot him through the chest. Somehow he lived.

At work, instead of circulating internet jokes or office humor, we often get these (overhead shots of points in the city, where the latest spree of robberies are taking place):

Often times, when things go wrong, assaults end in violence. Not only do the victims get hurt, but when the thugs make a mistake or are somehow over powered, people will turn on them as well. Countless times I have watched news broadcasts of bus robberies, where the public has cornered the thief (usually 16 years old) and are collectively beating him to death.

Consider it bottled up rage. When you work your ass off for R$ 400 a month, and someone tries to take it from you, your reaction is usually less than sympathetic. And as much as I would like to play anthropologist, living here changes you. Something about watching a thief get a taste of his own medicine feels good. It's karma, and somehow deserved.

Check out this video. I find it so fascinating. This is one of those joke shows where guys go out on the street and mess with people on film. The guy is running up to people and yelling, "ASSALTO"! (ROBBERY!) and then pulling out a newspaper to complain about high grocery prices. I'm sure that if this was taped in the US, people would have a totally different reaction. Here in Brazil, crime is no joke.

Famosos tentando falar português

I'm happy me speaky melhor.

"Winter" Blues

Here in Bahia, the sun is everything—it is the dance, the movement, the energy of this place. When the sun breaks through the clouds, the city warms like a prairie ant hill. Our legs and arms creak from winter entropy. Our heads start to swivel from side to side as we break listless into the outer-world. Without the sun this city is dead.

Two weeks now. Two solid weeks of rain and much more than usual. Here in the northeast, floods have killed at least 32 people and left more than 200,000 homeless. In Salvador, the waters rose unexpectedly flooding whole neighborhoods and burying people in their cars. With many left isolated in their homes, robberies and lootings have increased dramatically. As usual, it is the poor who suffer as the city drowns in its own filth.

For me, the sun is everything. Growing up in Michigan, life can be defined by one long series of depression, by seasonal affective disorder, constant cloud coverage, and the “winter blues”. I have always wondered if climate can affect a country’s cosmology—if our religious outlook is somehow linked to our mood, or how much sun we take in. Case in point, Norse mythology vs. Greek mythology, the former being a dark story of predestined death, of a three year winter and final battle on the Vigrid Plain, of Ragnarok, the end of the world. The Greeks myths, while dramatic and very human in their tone, somehow feel less heavy, like the author was comforted by the fact that he could take a break, set down his pen, and go play outside.

Brazil, without the sun, is a hard place to be. The waters of the South Atlantic are brown and discolored. Trash lies on the street, miserable, uncollected, and the place feels worn out and sad. It is Michigan without the comforts, and not where I want to be. Guess I’m lucky to be leaving this month, to escape this “winter” for an American summer, and to balance my cosmology, mythology, and personal views once again.

Intro letter to my students...

For me, for my students, the trip is fast approaching. Less than a month now. There and back again -- a hobbits tale in Brazil.

Dear Adventurists, Discovers, and Life Magicians,

Greetings from Salvador da Bahia—the black Rome of Brazil. As I write this letter, thousands of miles from where you now sit, a tropical rain is pouring outside of my window. It is the rainy season here in northeast Brazil, a time for the city to rejuvenate its greenery, where an occasional downpour can catch you off guard. From the street below, car alarms are wailing excitedly as people yell and scramble for shelter. While a downpour is to be expected at this time of the year, it sounds as if a river is carving a path on the street below, and I pray to the African deities that my house remains safe and isn’t carried out to sea.

Despite the rain, I hope this letter finds you well as you begin to prepare for your journey. Soon, the colors and sounds of your home will fade away, the smiles of family and friends distanced by a thousand new steps. All that is rhythmic, that feels comfortable and predictable will pass on—replaced by a new world of samba, palm trees, and the roar of the South Atlantic. Are your bags properly packed, your shoes tightly fastened? Are you starting to get excited?

For me personally, Brazil is a very special place, and I greatly look forward to sharing experiences there with you. My first journey to the “Land of the Southern Cross” occurred in December of 2003, a short trip into the rural backlands of the state of São Paulo. Having made my rounds through Europe – through multiple countries abroad – I thought that I was prepared for the “third world”, and all that Brazil had to offer. With family from Brazil, I thought that perhaps their collective consciousness would somehow seep into mine—that I could fake a samba, or pull out a Portuguese word like a rabbit from a wizard’s hat. How little I knew of the universe that lay ahead.

From the first minute outside of the São Paulo airport, my jaw hung open. How green everything was! How noisy, hot, and chaotic it all seemed. Motorcyclists raced at full throttle in between cars. Horns blared. As a farm boy who grew up in rural Michigan, it was all so much. From the warmth of the people that I met, to the culinary delicacies of fried bananas, churrasco, and frozen açai—I became addicted. In the years that followed, I finished up my degree in Anthropology, edited books on the Amazon, and eventually found my way to Salvador da Bahia, where I lived in a favela – a Brazilian slum – working as an English teacher and on a Masters degree in Education. For me, Brazil became a place where I could challenge my assumptions about the world, where I could develop my self, my language, and my empathy for those around me.

As you shall soon discover, Brazil is also a place that will challenge and engage you. It is a land governed by extreme dualities, by wealth, poverty, affection, division, smiles and sadness. You may see things that horrify you—street children begging for food, trash filled streets, a poverty endemic and passed through generations. You may find things that inspire you—a game of Capoeira, a waterfall, a steaming hot plate of beans and rice. You may feel things, simple though they may be, that bring you awe.

In the end, I only have a few recommendations. First, be open to things that challenge your sense of “how things should be”. Confronting a new reality is never an easy thing and it requires a strong sense of confidence, maturity, and flexibility. I’m sure you will find it. Second, try and leave the United States where it belongs—at home. It is all too easy to start comparing what you SEE in Brazil with what you HAVE in the U.S. But this is a mistake. Brazil and the U.S. are two different worlds, and though we can never forget where we are from, we must strive to embrace (and be thankful for) things as they are (this has been the hardest lesson for me).

Lastly, I would like you to keep in mind a quote by 17th century British author Thomas Fuller, who once wrote, “The fool wanders, a wise man travels”. In this great experience to come, let us be wise men and women, with eyes and hearts open, feet pointed toward the great beyond. Your fellow Dragons students are your companions, your instructors your guides. Stick with them and travel wisely.

Adelaide, Isabela, and I will be calling you soon, to chat about the trip and discuss any loose ends. Feel free to call or email me any time with questions or concerns.

Until then, dream of our journey, and I will see you in L.A.

Leo