Tall Glass of Milk

Story roll

2008-08-11T10:01:00.000-07:00

It's been awhile since I've posted links to stories I've written, so here they are. I've organized them by category and placed an * by stories I thought were particularly memorable or interesting.

Y'all come back now ya hear.

Business stories

The skate shop

The computer couple

The story about auto manufacturers that took me a month

The driving range

Franklin County Fair

Meet Miss Franklin County Fair 2008

A column on the Stewart Home School at the fair*

The rabbit show

A friendly mechanical bull-riding competition*

Local Government

Toma Washington Trial Day 1

Toma Washington Trial Day 2*

Mayor accused of overspending

Cost of mayor's trip

A fiscal court meeting (yawn)

Miscellaneous

Juniper Hill Lifeguard feature*

Man needs plasma donations

Town needs food donations

South Frankfort needs roles models

Read books and get an iPod

U.S. 127 yard sale

The coolest guy ever

2008-06-23T17:58:00.000-07:00

So lately I've been writing mostly about my professional life on this blog, but this video is a bit more personal. (For those of you who scoff at the notion of combining the professional and personal, please skip this post.)

My roommate this summer, John Zambenini (a.k.a The Coolest Guy Ever), writes about criminals and delinquents by day, but by night, he joins them as evidenced by this ridiculous video.

Fortunately, he understands the legal process fairly well and can talk his way out of tight spots when caught doing something semi-dangerous, semi-childish, uber-entertaining -- like shooting flaming arrows by the river. He's a real champ.

Watch me do my best athlete impersonation

2008-06-18T08:59:00.000-07:00

On your mark...

Get set...

WRITE!

Good work. Do it again.

Other stories:

First time 5K runners
I did a long Sunday piece on the Proactive 5K, which I participated in. The first part of the assignment was the column (I linked to it earlier in this post). The second part was profiling three of the 142 first-time 5K finishers. Five-thousand meters is no easy feat, so I tip my cap to those brave souls willing to go the distance.

Kentucky Coffeetree Cafe
A story about one of the more vibrant and intriguing businesses in downtown Frankfort. There are always people hanging out at this coffee shop and that’s because of the commendable mission of the shop’s owner to revitalize the downtown area. She’s definitely thinking outside of the box – and it’s good business.

A tribute to Teddy
This story was a new experience for me. The family came to the newspaper though, so that made it a little easier to write.

Bad tomatoes
So in case you have been living under a salmonella-infested rock, these was a nationwide tomato scare awhile back. It didn't seem to deter the local Mexican establishments.

Free fishing day
What do fish and online predators have in common? I dunno, but they are both in this story.

Burgeoning bugs and other poems

2008-06-03T12:36:00.000-07:00

They popped up out of the ground one day like daisies...

... and haven’t stopped buzzing since.

These insects absolutely disgust me...

...and yet I can’t look away from their writhing bodies.

So I wrote a story about them.

Other stories:

Community Garden
This is probably the best story I've written since embedding myself among the Kentuckians. The garden is also right outside my apartment, so maybe I'll play the role of Peter Rabbit when things get growing.

Karate kids
One of the most intimidating places I've ever visited. Every participant age 5 to 65 had to show respect to Grand Master John by saying, "Yes, Sensai!" every ten seconds. Then when he instructed them to align for the picture, each individual had to whip out a few Power Ranger moves before moving to their spot. Yes, Sensai!

Poppy's Bakery
Nothing particularly noteworthy about this story -- unless you are really into Hawaiian shaved ice. I got a free sample while I was getting the tour of the bakery. Good stuff.

River boating
This story doesn't say much about anything. Sometimes that happens in journalism. The one memorable thing for me is that I talked to this crazy guy named Willie who works at a marina, but wouldn't give me his last name. I needed his last name to quote him, so I called his boss and got it from him. Probably the sketchiest thing I've done to date as a journalist. But I haven't met a Willie yet that wasn't a head case.

Hail is for horses

2008-06-03T12:26:00.000-07:00

This picture may look like a horse grazing in the field on a sunny spring day, but here in the land of “unbridled spirit” it is much more than that.

This is not a mere horse, it is a quadra-hooved supernatural being capable of taking a man to the furthest edges of heaven while never leaving the earth. He may look like a lesser mammal, but don’t be deceived, this creature may very well understand the secrets of this life better than a nuclear physicist or astute theologian.

Sure, he eats off the same plate that he craps on (there's a regal simplicity in that) and doesn’t have an opposable thumb, but he probably made more money in his prime than most people make in a lifetime. He took his cut in carrots most likely.

He descends from a lineage of demigods, neighing Titans that carried human civilization through its infancy. His ancestors helped teach us to walk as a society before we became a well-oiled contingent of pistons and petroleum and relegated our omnivorous brother to the track and the stable.

So today, I pay my respects to Mr. Ed, Secretariat and my friend Flicka, for racing the wind, for hauling the wagon, for fertilizing the grass.

In the words of the original John Stewart, “Let the big horse run.”

People do some funny things

2008-05-22T11:25:00.000-07:00

People do some funny things to get where they think they want to go, things they probably never envisioned themselves doing before. I know that’s what I’ve been doing lately. It’s not always a bad thing, either.

I don’t think The State Journal can be considered a typical newspaper. A majority of the full-time reporters aren’t that far removed from college. It feels like a more serious college paper without the gossip and drama. And… really…slow…computers.

In my first two weeks on the job, I’ve had two stories on the front page, covered my first election and got a complimentary dessert for one story. I’ve also been ousted for a factual error on-line, struggled to come up with my own story ideas and typed pages and pages of court documents. It hasn’t all been Woodward and Bernstein. Then again, the job has had its moments.

For my first story, I was sent to cover a reception at the Senior Citizens Center in honor of a man that had made significant contributions to the center and the community. Yawn, right? Actually, it was one of most uplifting ceremonies I’ve ever attended, and I met an amazing, real-life hero in 97 year-old Frank Sower. I could only include a fraction of the contributions he had made to the city of Frankfort in my story, but his life is a testament to the value and impact one human being can have in the world. Three years removed from the century mark, the guy still has a hop in his step and a twinkle in his eye. He totally reminded me of the possibilities this life can bring if one is willing to devote themselves to something greater than themselves and invest in the idea of community. Truly a great man.

I also received a unique opportunity this past weekend when I got a chance to tour the CNN Election Express, the techno bus that CNN has been using to cover primary elections in every state. I had to work through CNN’s personal relations people, which was a little annoying when they tried to dictate everything, but the story turned out to be pretty solid and the bus is a one-of-a-kind creation. Only someone that’s really into TV news production can understand the full magnitude of the bus’s technological capabilities, but I figured out pretty quickly that it’s a little nicer than the school bus I used to ride every morning. The seats were much more plush, too.

Tuesday was Kentucky’s primary election, and I was assigned to cover the Republican race for the 6th Congressional District in the state. It turned out to be the best race of the night.

A local Frankfort man who had never even graduated college lost the election to a Lexington attorney by less than 1,000 votes. Neither really had much of a political history and neither were expected to challenge the incumbent Congressional representative in the general election, but it was still interesting to speak to each candidate after the results came in and get their reaction. It almost felt like sports. Maybe I should have gambled on the mayoral race.

Anyway, that was my first endeavor into covering politics. Like I said, people do some funny things to get where they think they want to go. And sometimes, they are better for it.

What can you buy for $3000 and change?

2008-05-14T06:31:00.000-07:00

“So I’m working in Frankfort this summer.”

Several places seem to pop into people’s heads when I casually mentioned this, Frankfort being a common name for a town. Here are the candidates:

a) Frankfort, Ind. – Home of the Frankfort High School Hot Dogs and former student teaching grounds of my mother.

b) Frankfort, Ky. – Capital of the Bluegrass State and in the top 10 in the category of “Most Obscure State Capitals in the United States.”

c) Frankfurt, Germany – A good Lutheran city. Great place to sample encased meat while sipping a beer, like, um, the rest of Germany.

Drawing a line from A to C to represent my personal excitement scale regarding each destination would look like this: /

So which city am I currently calling home? Place a dot right in the middle of that line. Frankfort, Ky. it is.

I’m working as an intern for The State Journal, the city’s newspaper. So far, I can tell you exactly how much of a fine you will pay if you break a traffic law, but that is about it. Maybe I will write a story soon.

I’ve only been in the city a couple days, but it already strikes me as one of the more odd places of government in the continental U.S. Frankfort sits right on the Kentucky River which snakes back and forth in the heart of the city.

Several bridges link the two halves of the city together, and train tracks run through the heart of downtown. Situated right between Louisville and Lexington, Frankfort must have been the peculiar compromise between Kentucky’s two largest cities.

According to one of the many historical plaques that decorate the downtown area, Frankfort won the honor of being named the capital of Kentucky “through perseverance and, according to early histories, the offer of Andrew Holmes’ log house as capitol for seven years, a number of town lots, 50 pounds worth of locks and hinges, 10 boxes of glass, 1500 pounds of nails, and $3000 in gold.”

You know what they say, “If you can’t beat’em, buy’em” (or at least set them up to start their own hardware store).

The State House is impressive with it domed roof and French architecture.

It’s nestled in a cozy nook near the river and not too far from my apartment. Walking around the premise, I couldn’t help but wonder if the house was the gift of extraterrestrial beings that dropped it off as they whizzed through the atmosphere. The giant Floral Clock gives it away.

It’s a clock, but it’s made of flowers? Out of this world.

Today, I went on a run on the River Walk. It wasn’t that long of a paved trail, but my max VO2 ain’t what it was a month ago when I completed a mini marathon, so the trail was long enough for me. I also caught the train as it whistled down Broadway Street.

Imagine a locomotive cutting through Circle Centre in Indy. I know, I couldn’t either.

On top of that, I discovered that the ghetto of Frankfort, which is really like one street, is just a block over from my apartment -- two blocks from the state capital building. How does that happen?

I don’t have too many answers at this point, but at least I’m accumulating questions.

Brave New World

2008-05-04T15:28:00.000-07:00

I dressed up real nice yesterday. I put on the robe and the funny square hat and sweat through an uneventful ceremony with similarly dressed peers. My tassel kept creeping into my mouth. I couldn't really follow the speakers. They seemed too composed.

Graduation is a good thing, I guess. It's nice to say that all that time spent reading dull textbooks and writing equally dull papers turned into something useful: a degree. But textbooks and papers, of course, should never be the focal point of a college career (although they do have their place). They certainly weren't for me.

The congratulations and farewells have been said; now, it's on to the next thing. I'll be interning this summer at The State Journal in Frankfort, Ky. I won't be covering or writing about sports like I did in college. Starting May 12, it's on to other, more mysterious matters like the annual sewage board meeting and city zoning. Maybe they will let me cover a tee ball game if I ask nicely. It will be a learning experience, and should help me as I seek full-time employment somewhere -- anywhere.

Of course, my timing isn't that great. The rumor is that the United States is in a recession, and print media has been in a funk since Al Gore invented the Internet. Many journalists are frustrated to say the least. If I didn't hate law, I might have considered going to law school. Looks like I'll have to put this degree to use.

I've been mailing applications all year, but I'll be picking it up this summer, looking to land that perfect position to launch my assault against corruption, tyranny and secondhand smoke. Maybe work like this will help.

For now, sewage board it is.

Bowl Road Trip Diary Tribute Video

2008-01-04T18:31:00.000-08:00

I'll admit it. I am way too proud of this video, but it cracks me up.

Bowl Road Trip Diary Days 4 (cont'd) & 5

2008-01-04T17:53:00.000-08:00

Ten men. Two vehicles. 3600 miles. Oh yeah, a football game and a hoppin' New Year's Eve party in between car rides. Follow TGOM's Bowl Road Trip Diary from the first mile marker to the last.

The final hours of our stay in Tempe were dedicated to rest and recovery. Yeah, we slept in.

After lazing around the apartment and indulging in the arcade games of our youth at a local restaurant, we packed up whatever was salvagable and headed to nearby Glendale, AZ for dinner before embarking on another 27-hour expedition.

When all was said and done, we spent about four more hours driving to Tempe than actually staying in Tempe, but no one is complaining. Our final semester of college begins next week, and who knows what the future has in store for us. But we will always have Tempe.

Here's a few random photos from the last couple days:

Like IU vs. Oklahoma State, Dan only had a puncher's chance in this boxing game. Actually, he put up a much better fight than the Hoosiers.

In this game, you are supposed to jump over a light that circles the outer ring. By the look on Jeff's face, you can tell he hated to jump rope as a child.

Leave it to Billy to pose shirtless with a guy that spends his days playing guitar in briefs and a cowboy hat. Apparently, the Naked Cowboy is a staple in Times Square and has his own reality TV show. We caught up with him in an outdoor shopping center in Glendale. Bizarre.

This was taken outside of Yukon, Oklahoma. I guess everybody has somebody.

There she is. The world's largest McDonald's. Your cholesterol rose slightly just looking at this picture.

Bowl Road Trip Diary Day 3 (cont'd) & 4

2008-01-01T10:45:00.001-08:00

Ten men. Two vehicles. 3600 miles. Oh yeah, a football game and a hoppin' New Year's Eve party in between car rides. Follow TGOM's Bowl Road Trip Diary from the first mile marker to the last.

Talking to an Oklahoma State fan yesterday, it became clear that the Cowboys were, indeed, a superior team from a superior conference. IU certainly could have played better, but it would have taken an extraordinary effort for the Hoosiers to win that game.

The fairy tale season may have ended in disappointment, but we didn't let the lopsided loss keep us from enjoying our time in Tempe. Here's a multimedia synopsis of our day:

Our day began at In-N-Out Burger, one of the many advantages of living closer to the Pacific. We were so psyched for our first double-double burgers, we showed up ten minutes before they opened and patiently waited in the parking lot. Yeah, we're from Indiana.

I was reprimanded by the In-N-Out manager for taking this picture. Apparently, McDonald's has been after the recipe of their secret sauce for years.

This is the IU Will Call line outside Sun Devil Stadium. We had to pick up our free student tickets together so we would be seated in the same row.

Here's the Oklahoma State Will Call line. You think this game was slightly more significant for the Hoosiers?

Good thing I took this picture of my Insight Bowl ticket. I lost it somewhere on the streets of Tempe after the game.

After picking up our tickets, we ran straight to the parking lot where some semi-cold beverages awaited.

Chris and Matt prompt Conor on what he should expect at his first college football game.

One IU fan decided to buy every Oklahoma State poster from one vendor only to rip them up...

...and set them ablaze...

...while everyone gathered around and sang the IU fight song.

The odd couple, Billy and Brad defend their side of the beer dye table. It's a game of thirst and determination.

Matt shows off the tally on his arm as he was the first person to "drink 13." He's going to be a doctor someday.

Chris displays his Hoosier pride by bleeding crimson at the tailgate. Don't worry, he can't feel a thing.

Jeff shows up in the nick of time for the game. He spent the morning in the hospital after his fever resurfaced and his tonsils inflated to unnatural proportions. A couple IVs and a steroid prescription later, he's ready to cheer the Hoosiers to victory. A real trooper, that Poteet.

Sun Devil Stadium looms.

We made our way to our end zone seats where we joined the IU student contingent in the seventh row.

Ter-ry Hoepp-ner! Ter-ry Hoepp-ner!

Things seemed good approaching kickoff as the sun still hung in the air.

Planes made random, colorful designs before the game. Little did we know they were actually drawing up IU's offensive game plan.

I think this was OSU's starting field position for most of the first half.

No Conor, that's the other team that just scored.

The Cowboys are coming! The Cowboys are coming!

IU scores a touchdown.

The thundersticks kept us occupied in the second half.

We headed to the Block Party that night were we huddled under outdoor heaters like this one as the fully-clothed Barenaked Ladies played on stage. Who knew the desert could be so chilly?

Fireworks lit the sky at the stroke of midnight. It seemed strange to think that the rest of the country had already welcomed in 2008.

The crowd headed home to put up their new calendars after midnight. We trekked back to the apartment to prognosticate on the 2008 football season.

Bowl Road Trip Diary Day 3

2007-12-31T20:09:00.000-08:00

Ten men. Two vehicles. 3600 miles. Oh yeah, a football game and a hoppin' New Year's Eve party in between car rides. Follow TGOM's Bowl Road Trip Diary from the first mile marker to the last.

Day 3: The Game

Game day had arrived.

On the morning of the Insight Bowl, we roused ourselves around 8 a.m. to prepare for our final IU football game as students. We started the day with double-double burgers at In-N-Out (Nothing like a 10 a.m. hamburger to jump start your day) and headed to the parking lot outside Sun Devil Stadium.

It was apparent from the start that IU fans vastly outnumbered their Oklahoma State counterparts. The parking lot might as well have been the grassy fields across from Memorial Stadium. The Hoosiers were "playing 13," so our goal was to "drink 13." Some of us fared better than others.

By the time kickoff rolled around, we were thoroughly pumped. Our state of excitement dwindled quickly, however, as IU allowed Oklahoma State to score touchdowns on their first five possessions. The Hoosiers looked every bit like a team that hadn't been to a bowl game in over a decade. It felt like the Cowboys were snapping the ball near our goal line on every other play in the first half. Maybe they were.

Pictures to follow, but now it's time to bring in the New Year on Mill Ave.

Bowl Road Trip Diary Days 1 & 2

2007-12-30T17:21:00.000-08:00

Ten men. Two vehicles. 3600 miles. Oh yeah, a football game and a hoppin' New Year's Eve party in between car rides. Follow TGOM's Bowl Road Trip Diary from the first mile marker to the last.

Days 1 & 2: The Draining Drive

The drive was everything we expected it to be: Oftentimes dull, slightly scenic, but mostly just plain long. With ten drivers splitting time between a Pontiac Grand Prix and a Nissan Pathfinder, we clocked in around 27 hours of driving including the time we took to stop and switch drivers every three hours or so and fill up on gas.

Indiana and Illinois supplied the usual eye candy of dead fields and barren trees; St. Louis added a jolt of electric color at night; Oklahoma and Texas passed like a bad dream; New Mexico would never end and Arizona came just in time.

The drive went smooth, however, and the only people that complained were the two stuck in the back of the Pathfinder, a tight fit for the smallest of us. We made it to Tempe around seven o'clock on Sunday and got a nice look at Sun Devil Stadium on the way to the apartment complex where we are crashing (literally).

Tomorrow is the big day. The plan is to rise around 8 a.m. to pick up our tickets, tailgate until the game at 3:30 p.m. and then hit the huge block party nearby until the wee small hours of the morning. If the drive seemed long, tomorrow may drag on to (blissful) infinite. At least I won't have to fret over leg room.

And now before I pass out, here's a little taste of our road trip to Tempe:

The 1800-mile trip began in Avon, Ind. at the quaint quarters of Conor McDermott's rent's house.

The McDermott bathtub is pretty quaint too.

We drew cards to see who would start out in which vehicle and who would drive first.

Whoever drew the Jack drove first. Lucky me.

Chris Marcum shows off his pretty blanket to the boys. He's such a charmer.

Billy Bernard prepares the Red Rider with the Indiana flag. Unfortunately, it fell off somewhere in Oklahoma. We're planning on picking it up on the way back.

Illinois is a really exciting state.

I think this is what the St. Louis skyline must look like to people on LSD.

We stopped to pick up Brad Gessel outside of St. Louis, but he wasn't at his house. We waited until he arrived, but some things just couldn't wait.

Like I said, it was a little cozy in the Pathfinder. Luckily, we quickly adjusted to everyone's bodily odors except Dan's.

Dan Morgenstern cruises ahead at a cautious 72 miles per hour. There were plenty of bears behind those bushes.

Conor dreams about how his very first IU football game will be on Monday. Actually, this is what Conor looked like for most of the trip. The guy can flat out sleep.

Jeff Poteet makes a sick face. Jeff has been under the weather lately, but nothing could stop him from seeing the Hoosiers take on the Cowboys - not even a temperature of 103. A couple of early morning full moons didn't help his condition, however.

The Continental Divide is right over in that direction. Somewhere.

TGOM takes the wheel sporting the finest western hat wear that can no longer fit on his father's head.

Not too many of these geographical formations in the Midwest.

How better to unwind after a grueling trip than at the Library, Tempe's scholarly version of Hooter's?

Matt enjoys a beer at the Library. I think he enjoyed our librarian even more, however.

Some establishment messed up IU's logo in their advertisement. I guess dotting the I's and crossing the U's is secondary at a place where pole dancing is encouraged. If that isn't bulletin board material for Bill Lynch and the Hoosiers then I don't know what is.

Brent Ling, California's own, met up with us in Tempe. Brent flew in before us which explains why he looks sane.

I noticed this street on the drive back to the apartment. Is it a sign of good things to come for IU? The Hoosiers need wide receiver James Hardy to come up big on several drives to win tomorrow.

IU football memories past and present

2007-12-27T16:02:00.000-08:00

OK, the next post will be for real. Tomorrow, I'm meeting up with WIUX's finest, Dan Morgenstern, on the way to Indy. Saturday, we hit the road.

But before we get out the Travel Yahtzee, I asked the guys to come up with a list of football memories - good and bad - we've accumulated over the years. Here's what we came up with in no paticular order.

1. Beating Purdue this year. Watching the students rush the Memorial Stadium field was one of those surreal moments where you barely trust your senses. Is this really happening? In Bloomington? After everything? Couldn't have been scripted any better.

2. Meeting Coach Hep. The man seemed a bit delusional at times (He once referred to the IU football program as a "soaring rocket ship" on live television.), but it was the kind of crazy that made sane people want to forget about silly things like being realistic. Coach Hep turned a bunch of hard Hoosier cynics into mild believers. That in itself is a commendable accomplishment.

I can remember the day IU announced Terry Hoeppner as the new coach and thinking "Who?" Today, I can answer my question with "The greatest thing to happen to IU football since Bill Mallory, that's who."

3. Loss to Penn State in 2004. Another forgettable year in IU football, but this game was particularly painful because of the way the Hoosiers found a way to lose. In the closing minutes of the game, IU had the ball near the goal line down by four with four plays to score the go-ahead touchdown. Two runs up the middle, a failed option right and another pathetic attempt up the middle. Game over. Good one, Gerry.

4. Kellen Lewis saves IU's bacon in Muncie. Down 17-0 in the second quarter against a MAC school with the third-string freshman quarterback taking his first snaps under center? Not the typical formula for victory. Then again, there's not much that is typical about Kellen Lewis. In his Hoosier debut, Lewis led IU to a 24-23 come-from-behind victory, accounting for more than 300 yards of offense and recording his first passing and rushing touchdowns.

A bunch of us made the trip to Muncie for that Sept. 2006 game and braved the rain that soaked the stands in the second half. Lewis' athleticism made a miserable downpour seem like a slight sprinkle.

5. Tailgating mayhem and general debauchery. Some of us awoke like children on Christmas morning on those autumn Saturdays to round everyone up and ensure prime parking position in the tailgating fields. Some of us constructed pinatas of the opposing quarterback to beat on before heading to Memorial Stadium. Some of us misused Wiffle Ball bats. All of us had a good time - at least we look like we are having a good time in the surfacing pictures. Oh, and the highest row of Memorial Stadium is a no-kite flying zone (even if you are wearing your Halloween costume).

6. Unlike baseball, there is crying in football. Everyone has felt it creep up on them at some point this season. Whether it was during the tribute to Coach Hep before the season opener, a dramatic ESPN exclusive with Jane Hoeppner or a sudden mental connection that brought a lump to the throat, everyone has felt the loss of Coach Hep in some way. The man will never be replaced, but his legacy will always inspire us.

7. Loss to Southern Illinois in 2006. This was another low point. The Salukis, a Division I-A program, steamrolled over the Hoosiers 35-28, while we watched from the stands wearing garbage bags beneath ominous skies. One of those days where you question the value of a college education.

8. Wins over Iowa in 2006 and 2007. No team has boosted IU's confidence like Iowa the last two seasons. In 2006, the Hoosiers toppled the No. 15-ranked Hawkeyes 31-28 prompting the "rocket ship" comment from Coach Hep. In 2007, IU spoiled the Hawkeyes' homecoming 38-20 and prompted one of the oddest scoring plays in football history when Kellen Lewis was credited with a 71-yard touchdown pass to...Kellen Lewis. Yeah, he's that good.

(OK, actually he recovered a fumble off of a passing play and took it to the house. The box score, however, makes Lewis look mythic.)

9. Gerry gets a road win in 2004. IU's win against No. 25 Oregon in 2004 was a fluke, we will be the first to admit that, but it was a memorable fluke. On that night, we watched the game from City Grille, DiNardo looked like a competent coach with a 2-0 team and I devoured the hottest wings on the menu. Since then, City Grille has gone out of business and Gerry has moved from the sideline to the TV studio. My stomach, however, is still recovering from those wings.

10. The first down march. It's a good workout. Plus, football is a lot more fun when your team gets first downs.

On the Tempe trail

2007-12-24T13:51:00.000-08:00

What's a road trip without a few random stops?

Jeff Poteet, TGOM's roommate first class, took the time to plot out several possible escapes from the long and winding road. Here's a link detailing our cross-country route with each letter corresponding to the following sites:

A. MONUMENT CIRCLE (Indianapolis, Ind.) - Well, we have to start somewhere. After rounding Indy's venerated loop, we'll make a beeline for Interstate 70.

B. World's Largest Cross (Effingham, Ill.) - It wouldn't be a bad idea to stop at the giant cross at the intersection of Interstates 57 and 70 about 150 miles into our trip. We could say a prayer for a safe trip, appeal to The Big Guy on the Hoosiers' behalf or give a shout out to Coach Hep. It took a few miraculous plays to get IU to Tempe, might as well recognize the greatest of all the miracle workers.

C. Giant Catsup Bottle Water Tower (Collinsville, Ill.) - Only in America can you find a mammoth condiment dispenser stretching 170 feet into the air. As someone who has been subjected to countless ketchup jokes due to a certain ketchup manufacturer beginning with the letter "H," I may just cringe at the sight of this tomato monstrosity. And can we please settle this catsup vs. ketchup discrepancy? There isn't mustard and mosterd.

D. St. Louis Arc (St. Louis, MO) - Hopefully we catch a glimpse of the famous arc as we stop in St. Louis to pick up our common sensically-challenged friend Brad. Brad won our fantasy football regular season title this year. He also once told a girl that her best feature was her arms. I'm afraid to speculate about what that says about our fantasy football prowess.

E. "Gateway to the Ozarks" (Cuba, MO) - No dictators, no missile crises, just a self-proclaimed "growing and prosperous community... within minutes of activities the whole family can enjoy." I think the next slogan should read Cuba, Missouri: Just minutes from enjoyment.

F. Big Fork (Springfield, MO) - Every memorable road trip has a critical fork in the road. Our fork could come quite literally in Springfield -- and provide a perfect photo opportunity!

G. Will Rogers Memorial Museum (Claremore, Okla.) - 600 miles into our trip may be the perfect time to pay homage to one of America's greatest entertainers. After being trapped inside a vehicle with one another for hours, we all may need a laugh by this point anyway.

H. Oklahoma City National Memorial (Oklahoma City, Okla.) - Most of us were too young to understand the full significance of the bombing that occurred in Oklahoma City in the spring of 1995, but we could always use a reminder about the destructive force of violence in this world and the role we all play in making sure such acts never occur.

I. The Leaning Water Tower and another large cross (Groom, Texas) - You can't pack enough odd water towers and giant crucifixes in one road trip.

J. Big Texan Steak Ranch and Cadillac Ranch (Amarillo, Texas) - After devouring a 72 oz. steak at the famous Big Texan Steak Ranch (between the entire group, of course), we'll spray paint a "Go Hoosiers" on the partially buried and fully vandalized Cadillacs of Cadillac Ranch before continuing to Tempe.

K. Ernie Pyle's House and Library (Albuquerque, NM) - Visiting the home of the well-known war correspondent and heroic Hoosier would be a great way to stir up some IU pride. I've spent enough time in Ernie Pyle Hall on campus to understand the significant contributions Pyle made to American journalism.

L. Continental Divide (Thoreau, NM) - So if the rainwater hits this side of the mountain it flows to the Pacific, and if it hits that sound of the mountain it flows to the Atlantic. Who knew?

M. Wigwam motels (Holbrook, AZ) - The true reason we are making this trip is to sleep in a wigwam.

N. Meteor crater (Winslow, AZ) - Before Coach Hep gave IU its Rock, the extraterrestials sent Earth theirs.

O. Heart Attack Grill (Phoenix, AZ) - Our pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? The Double Bypass Burger.

P. SUN DEVIL STADIUM (Tempe, AZ) - Behold the promised land.

Coming Soon: Bowl Road Trip Diary

2007-12-10T20:36:00.000-08:00

Ten men. Two vehicles. 3600 miles of road. The figurative culmination of 4 years of randomness, outrageousness and athletic devotion.

After enduring three seasons of heartbreaking IU football, 10 IU seniors (including TGOM's finest) will traverse this expansive nation to witness the greatest accomplishment by an IU team in 14 years: a bowl berth.

On Dec. 31, the Indiana Hoosiers will take on the Oklahoma State Cowboys in the Insight Bowl in Tempe, Ariz. I, along with nine other comrades - many of whom I've known my entire college career - will be there to cheer the Hoosiers on - because who knows if IU will ever make it to a bowl again before we are middle-aged, balding and irritable.

We witnessed DiNardo's final year (at least when we weren't covering our eyes). We embraced Coach Hep. We saw Kellen Lewis enter the game against Ball State as an unknown freshman and found hope. We felt concerned when Coach Hep left the sidelines, and we cried when he left this earth before any of us were prepared. But now the Hoosiers are playing thirteen. Now we have a team to rally around. Now we finally get to celebrate.

Austin Starr's field goal to bring the Old Oaken Bucket back to Bloomington and give IU it's first winning season since Saturday morning cartoons were the highlight of our week sparked a gridiron celebration unlike anything we could have imagined as scrawny freshmen. That was before The Rock was The Rock, before Coach Hep wanted us, before James Hardy became a man.

For us fellas, it's been a wild ride with plenty of highs and lows, but we're glad we stuck it out. We're glad we drug our asses across the tailgating fields into Memorial Stadium on those autumn Saturdays. We're glad we will be bringing in the New Year under a desert sky.

Our trip officially begins on Dec. 28 in Indianapolis and ends on Jan. 3. TGOM will be blogging the whole thing, right down to the 3 a.m. rest stop in Scalphead, Okla.

Plenty of incriminating pictures, recollections - maybe even videos - to follow. Until then, Go Hoosiers!

Transition blog

2007-10-24T18:18:00.000-07:00

Question: What kind of stuff is posted on a travel blog after the trip is over?

Answer: Whatever I want.

My brazilian experience may be stuck on To Be Continued, but my life is far from being on hold. Currently, I am sweating through a semester of journalism ethics, magazine writing and Portuguese Literature while working late nights as the sports editor of the Indiana Daily Student. I also get to be the men's basketball team's biggest fan and critic as an IU columnist.

My mind is consumed with deadlines but far from dead. Case in point, below is a little self-narrative I wrote as part of my application for a feature writing contest. Sometimes it's important to remind yourself why you're putting yourself through hell in the first place.

I've always been a reader -- even before I could read by myself. As a child, I would ask my parents to read to me at every opportunity. I could never settle for one book, of course, so inevitably a stack of illustrated tales would end up at the feet of the nearest literate person with me anxiously awaiting to begin. Even today, few things are more exciting to me than opening to the first page of a new book.
In addition to reading, I've always loved sports. Well, not always. But ever since that day in the schoolyard when I discovered catching a football could lead to making a new friend, sports have been my thing. They help me relate to other people and, in turn, to myself. At an early age, however, it became evident that my athletic aptitude was far inferior to my skill with words. So when a relative gave me a book entitled The Best American Sports Writing of the Century which combined two of my passions in an articulate and inspiring way, I discovered a new goal in my life: to make it into the 21st century edition of that book.
It's a rather lofty goal. Even the best sports writers of the past century needed a little luck to land a spot in the 816-page collection. I'm still looking for my big break.
As a journalism major at Indiana University and a staff member at the Indiana Daily Student, I have covered IU athletics as a columnist and a reporter since 2005. Currently, I am one of the sports editors at the IDS. The experience has been challenging and rewarding at the same time. Earlier this year, I was awarded a national sports journalism scholarship by the NCAA partially based on my work as the IU sports columnist in the fall of 2006. It was quite an honor.
At IU, I've had the pleasure of covering a variety of sports from field hockey to men’s basketball. It’s the interaction with coaches and players as well as the response from readers that have made the experience memorable.
Sports are just a gateway, however. The more I write about them, the more certain I become that I am not writing about sports at all. I'm writing about people, and -- through people -- I am writing about life. The best of the sports pages -- or any page, really -- tells tales of defeat and triumph, mystery and discovery, guilt and love. In this way, the stories I write today aren't that much different from the ones I adored as a child.
These stories are everywhere; they are the product of life being lived. As a journalist, I've taken it upon myself to seek them.

Reflections on a past life

2007-09-15T22:50:00.000-07:00

As of this post, I have been back in the United States for nearly two months. It might as well be two decades.

It's interesting to note the way humans adapt to their environment so effectively out of necessity and the need for social interaction. I smile (and occasionally laugh out loud) thinking of some of the uncharacteristic experiences I had in Brazil - experiences I will be hard-pressed to replicate anywhere else in the world. (Sigh...)

Hopefully, I'll get to visit other places in the world someday. Maybe I'll even get a chance to return to Brazil. The future is full of possibility.

The following is an essay I wrote for the Hutton Honors College International Experience Grant I received before studying abroad. Thanks to the generosity of Edward L. Hutton, thousands of IU students like me don't have to dig quite so deep into our parents' pockets to make a dream come true.

My group of twenty-five American students walk off our private bus onto an unfamiliar street 40 minutes outside the center of São Paulo, the most populous urban habitat in the southern hemisphere. Our driver has taken us west across the polluted river towards the poorer periphery of the metropolitan giant. He navigated the shifting, tangled web of traffic and infrastructure as if possessing a sixth sense as we chatted expectantly in the back of the vehicle. Though we are all accomplished college students, field trips still excite us.

As we cross the street and pass through a gated entryway, I can’t help but notice the disheveled look of the place. The building is ugly. All concrete and chipped paint. Hardly an optimum environment for learning. I am about to tour a public school in Brazil.

The principal comes to greet us outside the main door. She smiles as she addresses us gringos, sharing with us information about the school – the number of students enrolled, the shoestring operating budget, the night classes offered to those who work during the day. She is proud of her school’s role in the neighboring community.

We enter through a small common room and into a courtyard. Two young boys, seemingly on their own, stand by a pile of rocks and rumble. They stop what they are doing to watch curiously as our group observes the area. The expressions on their faces grow especially animated when they see me.

I see a covered gym area where kids are playing with balls of various shapes and sizes. We move on. I sit in a stuffy one-room library with the world map that needs updated. We hear about the children’s book program being implemented by the government. There’s more to see. I smile awkwardly in front of a class of dark-haired adolescents that smile awkwardly back from their desks. It’s difficult to determine who is studying who more intensely. We view the new computer lab with the government-funded machines and drab walls. Some of us are impressed – considering the circumstances.

We see it all in less than an hour. As my group readies itself to leave, I stand patiently in the common room we entered from the main door. It appears to be a cafeteria right now. Bright-eyed children carrying bowls of rice and beans partake around me. Some sit and eat. Others stand. I can feel their stares lingering on me, crawling up my long frame. It’s as if I am the only foreigner in the room. They have never seen anything like me before.

The small one addresses me. Asks me a question. I stoop down and tilt my head towards his voice, carefully weighing every word. “How tall are you?” he asks.

“One-hundred and ninety-five centimeters,” I reply. It’s a question I’ve been asked before. The boy continues to gawk openly. A few of his classmates join him.

“Do you play basketball?” one asks.

“Of course,” I say, not voluntarily elaborating beyond a basic confirmation.

Now the dam has been breached. I’m surrounded on all sides as more children press closer. They want to get a good look at me – take in my staggering height, my light-colored hair, my clown-size feet. Where are you from? What is your name? What size are your shoes?

The imperative questions travel through the air towards the ceiling, towards my face. I look intently at each questioner, making sure to pronounce my words clearly. One boy tells me he plays basketball too. Another tells me he has heard of the United States, but has never visited. One courageous girl races up to me and places her foot next to mine before quickly sprinting away in laughter like she had just touched a hot burner and escaped the consequences.

Someone tells me it is time to leave. I wade through a sea of rambunctious midgets to get to the door, saying my goodbyes. Taking one last glance through the slotted metal doors, I can still see the curious faces looking back. A final thought passes between my ears as I walk away: Maybe this building isn’t so ugly afterall.

The long and winding road

2007-07-15T15:16:00.000-07:00

Backpacking in Argentina has been an exhausting experience, but it has also been a blast!

I spent three days near the Andes mountains in Mendoza in central Argentina and three days among the dry, rocky terrain of Salta in northern Argentina. I rode three buses for a combined 48 hours and met people from all corners of the world. I saw the white-tipped peaks of the Andes and the pastel colors of the rocks in Salta. I drank fine wines and tasted fatty meats. I peered into the eery pools of salt flats and got lost in a maze of Incan ruins. I climbed into canyons and parasailed above cliffs. I survived entire days on a diet of cookies. I took chances and made mistakes, but I learned a little more about this crazy world - and that made it all worthwhile.

I'm tired. I'm weary. I'm ready to go home.

So that's just what I'll do.

International day-tripper

2007-07-04T10:20:00.000-07:00

I took a day trip to Uruguay the other day. I get a kick out of typing that sentence. Growing up in Indiana, the only feasible day trip to another country is Kentucky - and that really isn't worth the gas money.

Uruguay is my fourth South American country to have visited for those of you keeping track at home. Barring any dramatic turn of events, my country-counter will be at four when I return to the United States.

To get to Colonia del Sacramento, a small Uruguayan historical town, I took a ferry from a nearby port across Rio de la Plata, the largest estuary in the world. An estuary is a place where one or more rivers meet before hitting the ocean. Looking out across Rio de la Plata, you'd think it was the ocean. The ferry that I took was really nice inside with a cushiony seats, TV, concessions - even a small store. It took 45 minutes of comfortable water-churning to make it to Colonia from Buenos Aires.

Colonia used to be a major point of contention between the Spanish and the Portuguese, strategically located outside the joining of the Parana and Uruguay River. It was conquered and re-conquered several times in its history. Seeing that the common language in Uruguay is Spanish, I guess it's not hard to guess who won in the end.

It's the dead of winter here, so the tourists aren't exactly flocking to the port city these days. It was pretty much me and a few American tourists wondering why they were wearing sweaters and jackets in July. The historical section reminded me a lot of Paraty, the other historical Portuguese port I had visited in Brazil last January. I guess if you have seen one colonial port, you´ve seen them all. We can now add old Portuguese ports to a list that includes Wal-Marts, wax museums and civil war battle fields.

I am traveling solo these days, so the highlights of Colonia del Sacramento were marveling at the breadth of Rio de la Plata atop the lighthouse and serenading a stray cat and a sea dog at the end of the pier. They were a very attentive audience.

It was a grey and blustery day, so I took the ferry back in the afternoon.

Uruguay seems like a much more relaxed place than Brazil or Argentina, although its currency makes me uneasy. The Uruguayan peso is something like 22 to the dollar and most things cost in the hundreds of pesos. It's hard to decide what to order for lunch when you see that it is going to cost you in the hundreds. With all the large numbers floating aroung in that country, I wished I would have brought a calculator.

One of the things about taking an international ferry is that you have to go through customs before and after the trip. Customs is always an adventure for me - especially since my passport was accidently washed in the washing machine. It looks like an historical document with its worn cover, smudged ink and creased pages. I like to say that it has character.

Customs officials do not seem to appreciate my colorful passport, and with all the random slips of paper they hand you during these trips (boarding passes, receipts, entry/exit cards, etc.), it can get a little confusing. It seems like I spent half my day figuring out paperwork.

In the end though, I'm glad I made the trip. Not even Kentucky has a lighthouse.

As different as their dance

2007-07-02T16:03:00.000-07:00

I boarded my plane for Buenos Aires ten minutes after it was supposed to depart. Sometimes, you've gotta love Brazilian airlines. I knew I was leaving Sao Paulo for an entirely different city in South America, but how different, I had no idea.

After three days in the capital of Argentina, I can tell you that the cities are as different as the tango and the samba.

Buenos Aires used to be considered the New York City of South America about 100 years ago, the financial and cultural capital of the continent. Of course, today the financial hub of South America is Sao Paulo, but Buenos Aires still packs a cultural punch.

I spent my first day in the city taking a first-class, personal tour of the area courtesy of a couple of American friends. It was a great way to learn about the history and the variety of BA. From the beginning it was apparent that Buenos Aires is different than any Brazilian city I've visited. The streets meet at clean, 90-degree angles, you don't feel like your suffocating in concrete and it's really not necessary to look over your shoulder every couple minutes to make sure you're not being followed.

On my tour, I got to see the variety in architecture that exists and learned oodles about the neighborhoods. I saw the colored houses of La Boca, the renovated industrial buildings near the river, which now offer restaurants like Hooters, and the granite mosques of the wealthy in La cemeterio de la Recoleta where the body of Evita Peron rests. I am staying in an apartment in the neighborhood of San Telmo, an historical area which used to house the city's wealthy before an outbreak of yellow fever in the mid-19th century. The architecture in San Telmo is supposedly Spanish, and the neighborhood is currently undergoing a revitalization process. At different points, I've heard parts of Buenos Aires compared to Paris, New York and New Orleans. All I know is that it definitely isn't Sao Paulo.

Even the people are classy. At one point during my tour, the money pouch that I had strapped around my waist beneath my sweatshirt fell off onto the ground. Before I had even noticed its absence, a man had picked it up, looked at the name on the debit card and was looking for the owner. I had my only way of withdrawing money and 100 pesos in that thing and found it before I even knew it was lost! Had I lost my debit card and cash in Brazil, I am 99.9% sure I would not have got it back.

We made some stops at historical cafes, nice restaurants and extravagant churches. I drank the richest cup of hot chocolate in my life at Cafe Tortoni, a cafe famous for having regulars such as the author Luis Borges. I got a better taste of Argentine beef on Friday and Saturday. (I think the beef I had on Argentina's side of Iguacu is why I was running to the bathroom that night.) I also visited an art museum and toured an old navy ship that was active around the turn of the 20th century. On Saturday night, I had my cheapest night/morning out abroad at an Irish pub/club. Argentines likes to go out late as in early-late. I made sure to take a nap beforehand.

The exchange rate here is much more favorable than in Brazil. The peso is around three to the dollar, and food and public transportation seems dirt cheap. Argentines seem much better educated than Brazilians as a society. I heard the average Argentine reads more than seven books a year. That is several times more than the average Brazilian. Instead of focusing on the body like Brazilians, Argentines prefer to obsess over the mind. The psychiatrist replaces Brazil's plastic surgeon as the glamor profession. It's common for the residents of Buenos Aires to visit their psychiatrist regularly to improve their mental and emotional health. To me, this seems nuts.

Another noticable difference between Sao Paulo and Buenos Aires is the racial makeup. People appear far more homogeneous here than in Sao Paulo, although the blue eye/blond hair combo is just as uncommon. I no longer see the Asian and African characteristics that are common a country away.

Although Portuguese and Spanish are very similar, there are enough differences to make communication a challenge at times. Pronunciation is completely different. Luckily, a lot more tourists frequent Buenos Aires and many people speak English.

The weather is a tad chilly, hovering around 50 degrees during the day and 40 degrees at night. Makes me wish I'd packed a few more long-sleeved shirts and a few less pairs of shorts, but I'll survive.

On July 5th, I'll be traveling west towards the Andes mountains to the wine country of Mendoza. Then, I plan on going north to Salta, where the dry climate and low pressure create a unique climate.

It will be my first time outside of urban life since April. Definitely gonna soak it up.

Beijos and abraços

2007-06-28T06:29:00.000-07:00

Today is my last day in Brazil. I am getting on a plane this afternoon and flying to Argentina.

I've spent the last week saying goodbye to the friends that I have made during my six months here and finishing up final papers for classes. I just finished the longest paper of my life yesterday - in another language. Regardless of the quality of my paper, I consider that an accomplishment.

I think my grades will turn out pretty good during my semester at PUC thanks to my professor's gringo grading scale. It's much more forgiving than the normal grading scale and the more gringo you look, the more forgiving it is (and you can't look much more gringo than me).

It will be strange visiting another country and another culture after living in São Paulo for the last six months, but I am looking forward to it. Buenos Aires is South America´s version of a european city, and I hear that it is a lot more aesthetically pleasing than São Paulo. Of course, that wouldn't take much.

I'm leaving behind a lot of memories here. Just for fun, here are five experiences that were absolutely unforgettable:

1. Hang gliding in Rio. I had never been hang gliding before - let alone hang gliding in one of the most naturally beautiful cities in the world. I had the beach, the forest and the city all from a bird's eye view for an amazing 15-minute ride. Sure it was overly touristy and set me back a pretty penny, but I would do it again in a heartbeat.

2. Foz de Iguaçu. Just an amazing natural wonder. I cannot overstate the beauty of over 200 waterfalls side-by-side, including Garganta del diablo, which makes Niagra look like child's play. Standing at the mouth of Garganta felt like the whole world was being sucked down the drain. Now that's the power of nature.

3.JUCA. Definitely my most amazing weekend with Brazilians. Sports at all hours of the day. Beer at all hours of the day. Randomness at all hours of the day. Almost like being back in Bloomington. JUCA was supposed to be my opportunity to play basketball in this basketly-challenged country, instead, it turned out to be my time to be the token gringo. Eh, you win some, you lose some.

4. Seeing Protestors against the red, white and blue. When President Bush visited in March, there were some people who were not happy and took to the streets to prove it. It was a very interesting experience to see a bunch of people trashing the flag of your country and depicting your country's leader in a negative light. (Although the latter part you can get at home.) I think it really speaks to the prominence of the United States and the responsibility we have as a global leader.

5.Meeting people from all over the US. Not only did I get to chill with Brazilians here in São Paulo, but I also became friends with people from coast to coast back home. It was really interesting to see and debate about the cultural differences that exist right in my own backyard. Of course, I defended Indiana at every opportunity. Our highways rock.

JUCA and my last trip

2007-06-15T15:12:00.000-07:00

Wow, my last month here is really flying!

If you'd like to read about my amazing weekend at JUCA with the cachorros loucos, click here. It was a very unique experience being the only gringo among a bunch of wild and crazy brazilians, and I doubt I will ever hear my name chanted again repeatedly like it was at JUCA.

Only thirteen more days in São Paulo. The 28th of this month marks my sixth in this country. To commerate this grand achievement of surviving outside one's country of origin for half a year my Brazilian travel visa will be expiring, and I will be getting on a plane for Buenos Aires.

I'm looking forward to exploring Argentina for about three weeks before returning to the United States. It will be fun to see another part of South America with a very different culture, and who knows if I will ever get another chance to revisit this continent.

For now, it is final papers and assignments.

Oh, and soccer. Soccer game tomorrow. But that's a given.

UPDATE: The soccer game between Corinthians and Parana was another scoreless thriller. If you're keeping track at home, that means I've been to three soccer games in São Paulo and witnessed one measely goal! What a sport, huh? I think soccer is the only sport where the fans cheer for narrow misses. Which is kind of like congratulating Charlie Brown for almost kicking the football. Good grief!

The end is near

2007-06-02T13:04:00.000-07:00

Now that June has arrived, I can say that I am in the homestretch of my abroad experience. This month will be my last outside of North America for awhile. Anything that I had planned on doing in Brazil and haven't done yet better be accomplished in the next 30 days or so.

Actually, I don't really have too many unfulfilled wishes left. And now that the weather has turned for the worse (cold and rainy today), I am actually looking forward to a little midwestern sun in the states - but not before going on one last trip-to-be-named-later.

This week I felt as if I was starting to get a better understanding of the culture here in Brazil and some of the problems and contradictions that arise from this culture. Many people have predicted that Brazil will be a world power someday, but I can say with confidence that it will not happen in my lifetime.

If this nation is ever to become a world power, it will be completely unrecognizable from the society that resides here today. Too few businesses and politicians are held unaccountable in today's Brazil, and many of the interests of the common man are neglected. Despite being one of the world's leaders in agriculture and possessing ample resources, millions of people go hungry every day in this country. This is only one of many discrepancies that exist here.

For now, I am attempting to make it through my last month with three pairs of long pants, two sweatshirts and a light jacket. I've parted ways with the tropical paradise of January and February. It's a mental struggle to peel off the warm comforter every morning with the cooler air circulating the house.

Next week, I will be participating in a college sporting extravaganza for the communications schools of São Paulo called JUCA. Basically, a bunch of college students take over a small town outside of the city for four days and play sports, have parties and sleep on uncomfortable mats. I will be playing basketball for PUC and carrying the albatross of being the only American on the court. I will do my best to carry on the tradition of excellence created by exported American basketball players, but there's a reason we play overseas and not in our country of origin.

To business

2007-05-16T19:08:00.000-07:00

I finally began my final research project today after two and a half months of procrastinating, err, brainstorming. It will eventually become a ten-page paper in Portuguese. I don't think I've written more than a five-page paper in college. Good thing I'm getting a headstart.

Doing any kind of academic work in Brazil is at least 10 times harder than in the US. Internet access is much harder to come by, and printing documents can be a slow and expensive process. All my assignments at PUC can be turned in handwritten. It's not even an issue. Obtaining copies of old newspaper articles, however, has proved trickier than I thought.

For my research paper on Brazilian athletes, I have to go to the Arquivo de Estado, a large, blockish building located on the north-side of São Paulo. I am analyzing sports articles that appeared in old newspapers, so I have to know the exact dates of the newspapers I want to see. Once I submit my requests (limited to three at a time), I sit and wait at a desk in a sterile, white room with other researchers and a couple security people to make sure no one steals/destroys any documents.

I wear rubber gloves when dissecting the stack of yellowing newspapers that arrive at my table and take care not to allow my elbows to rest on the table. This is forbidden. When I find an article of which I would like a copy, I place a white marker inbetween the pages and write the issue and page number down. When I'm finished with everything, I return the old newspapers in their binder and submit the articles I would like copied.

After I leave, the arquive people make microfilm copies of the pages I requested, transfer the images into JPEGs and put the JPEGs on a CD. Then they mail me the CD. I should receive my articles in a digital format in roughly two weeks.

If this process seems entirely drawn-out and complicated, that's because it is. In fact, if I were to try and invent a way to make something simple, like getting a copy of a previously published article, into something difficult, it would fall far short of the above-mentioned process.

This is one of the challenges of conducting research in a developing country. It's also why most of the leading academic people of Brazil work for universities and colleges in the United States - because in my country we have splendid devices called scanners!

Just when I was beginning to grow fond of the little guy...

2007-05-14T14:30:00.000-07:00

He is gone.

Pope Benedict XVI hopped on a jet plane in Aparecida yesterday and made a bee line for the Vatican. For being 80 years-old, the man gets around like no other.

During his four and a half day excursion in Brazil, Pope Benedict brought the house down in a packed stadium of 40,000 youth with that creepy smile of his, canonized the first Brazilian saint (We knew you had it in you friar Antonio.) and slammed the media for being immoral (Yeah, he was probably talking about your favorite TV show.). The guy was like a rock star with better hygiene.

Still, Catholicism in this country is not what it used to be. The percentage of people who say they are Catholic in Brazil has declined nearly 20 percent in the last 25 years. And it ain't getting better anytime soon.

With God's permission (Thanks Big Guy.), I decided to grade Pope Benedict on his visit to Brazil - just for the heck of it.

Security - A+

I may not have laid eyes on the big papa, but I did see plenty of his bodyguards. Outside of the thousands of the policia militar, the Pope is protected by the Swiss Guard and helicopters follow him wherever he goes. I bet his personal assistant knows Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu too.

Transportation - A

Like I said, the guy gets around like no other. Of course, having those thousands of policemen clear the streets for you kind of helps. A quirky thing about the Pope is the papamovel or popemobile in which he travels around. It has a bullet-proof carriage in the back where the Pope can sit and wave to the crowd as he passes by. There's also the helicopters and personal jet. I wonder what opera music he enjoyed on his return flight.

Message - C

Don't do drugs. Don't have sex outside of marriage. And the E! channel is the devil. Have you been talking to my mother, papa? Oh, and something about finding fulfillment through the Church. No, he said some good things. And he said them in good Portuguese. Just for that I'm tacking on a + to that C.

Popularity - B

It's tough following in the footsteps of a legend like John Paul II, so I'll take it easy on him in this respect. Still, about half the number of people came to mass in Campo de Marte this year than in 1980 when John Paully Be Good presided. Then again, 800,000 ain't bad. And it was kind of cold outside.

Public Persona - B+

He looks pretty good for going through eight decades of life. He still has a twinkle in his eye and that sly grin. I was actually disappointed when I heard him speak on TV. He didn't sound anything like the emperor in Star Wars like I had hoped.

Overall - B+

The Pope coming to Brazil was quite a phenomenom to witness. Catholics from all over Latin America (and beyond) flock to see this guy. But I don't see any mass conversions taking place because of this visit. A lot of changes on both sides need to take place before Catholicism makes a rebound in this world.

Papa-mania

2007-05-10T13:12:00.000-07:00

He is here.

Pope Benedict XVI arrived in São Paulo yesterday afternoon. He stepped out of the plane to see gray skys and spittles of rain. The temperature was a very unwelcoming 10 degrees Celsius. He flew by private jet from Italy earlier in the morning and listened to opera musica while sipping orange juice en route to São Paulo.

Today the Pope is meeting with President Lula and will address the youth of the church at o estádio do Pacaembu. No word yet on whether the Pope found his breakfast agreeable or not. Stay tuned.

The amount of coverage dedicated to the Pope's visit this week is bordering on insane right now, and rightly so because people go crazy for this guy. According to one report, people began congregating at five in the morning today outside the monastery of São Bento where the Pope slept last night hoping to catch a glimpse of his holiness.

I'm not sure if there is a word for people who awake in the wee small hours of the morning to peak in on 80 year-old men, but allow me to suggest one: Popaphiles.

The traffic has been ungodly today and three of my classes have been canceled because of Benedict's visit. It's like another holiday.

Yesterday, I tried to get a slice of Papa-pie for myself, waiting outside of São Bento for an hour and an half in the cold. Published reports said the Pope would be arriving at 6:45 in the evening. The helicopters hovered above, the police were out in full force and a good crowd had gathered outside the monastary. The TV crews were firmly entrenched, and I saw the flags of Argentina and Chile in the crowd along with a giant-size version of Nossa Senhora Aparecida. There was even a small balcony with a bullet-proof bubble for the Pope to gaze off.

"Queremos ver o papa!" (We want to see the Pope!) was the cheer of choice along with sporadic bouts of singing, but o papa never appeared.

I left at 8:00 cold, hungry and Pope-less.

Many of the Brazilians I have talked to said they prefered John Paul II over the current Pope, but you wouldn't know this guy had detractors by attending the rallies. His visit is obviously meaningful to many people here, but I'm not even sure if the people who stood outside in the cold at 5 AM could tell you why.

But they might be able to tell you what the Pope had for breakfast.

UPDATE: I watched most of the Pope's youth gathering on TV and was actually pretty impressed. 35,000 jovens from all over Latin America were in attendance to address concerns such as the lack of jobs for college graduates, child slavery, prostitution and the environment. I haven't seen much evidence of empowered youth in this country, so it was an encouraging event.

The division between church and state can get a little hazy in countries that are predominantly Catholic. That makes changing the world a bit more confusing on this level.

Baby, it's cold outside

2007-05-04T14:01:00.000-07:00

Things have been real chill as of late.

Not just as in I-haven't-done-anything-worth-mentioning chill, but also as in it's-starting-to-cool-down-around-here chill. That's right folks, the Earth's axis is tilting to my dissastisfaction. The sweatshirt has joined the umbrella on the list of Things I should take with me when leaving the house but don't.

With the weather going to crap here and things warming up back home, I've been going through a bit of a Hooser-nostalgia phase. The "moonlight on the Wabash" and all that junk. Then I realize I've never even seen the Wabash at night. I've got two more months to rock out in Brazil.

Today, I had my first in-class test of the semester at PUC. It was also the first test in my 16-year history of test-taking where I felt the urge to leave a disclaimer note at the bottom:

Dear Professor,

Excuse my poor grammar and rudimentary analysis. I have yet to understand a single joke that you've told this semester.

Sincerely,

Your beloved class gringo

It went something like that.

I actually felt pretty proud of myself after handing the test in. English is a walk in the park compared to this Portuguese thing.

To break up the monotony of "fall" in São Paulo, Sampa will be hosting Pope Benedict XVI next week. That's right, that means the US President and the Pope will have visited São Paulo within two months of each other. It's just the city to visit these days.

What happens when the leader of the Catholic church comes to visit the most Catholic nation in the world? In the words of Terrence Man, "People will come, Ray. People will most definitely come."

In the millions. Once again, I will be on the outside looking in.

A soggy Santos soccer game

2007-04-23T08:27:00.000-07:00

Rain hits hard and without warning in this city. A sunny day can quickly shift to ominous clouds of lightning in a matter of minutes. As I discovered yesterday afternoon, being unprepared for such transformations will get the contents of your pockets all soggy.

I took the bus with a friend to Morumbi, a part of town I have never visited by bus, to see Santos take on Bragantino in the semifinals of Campeonato Paulista - that's soccer, folks. Well, as sometimes happens in huge cities with confusing roads, the bus turned out not to go the way we wanted to go, so we had to get off and take another bus back to an earlier stop and figure out how to get to this game. And, of course, the sky is getting darker all the while.

At one point, I foresaw the future. It depicted my friend and I huddled under a bus stop in the pouring rain in an unfamiliar part of São Paulo. Five minutes later, the future had arrived. Luckily, we hailed a cab after running through the rain for a good minute or two and were able to make the game before the opening kickoff. (I guess it's more of a tapoff in soccer, but I just like the idea of opening kickoffs.)

The rain was really strong at the start of the game. I had purchased a poncho before entering the stadium even though I was already soaked. Our seats happened to be on the second-level of the stadium under an awning, but the poncho still came in handy to keep me from becoming hypothermic.

The first half of the match was not pretty as the ball slowed in a puddle of water the minute it hit the turf. It wasn't much different then playing soccer with a checkered rock. One quirky thing about Morumbi's stadium is that the rain water is drained into the stadium through little pipes. Small streams of water flowed from above all around the stadium for the first half until the rain subsided. If a soccer stadium could somehow be built among the Iguaçu Falls, it would feel something like that.

Things picked up a bit in the second half, and the Santos fans really got into it as a win or tie would propel their team to the championship game. In my opinion, Santos got outplayed in the second half, but managed to hold on for a 0-0 tie. I don't even want to think about how the thousands of Santos-faithful would have reacted had their team lost. There is nothing worse than a mass of disappointed, angry soccer fans. Nothing.

I had a couple of notable experiences last week that deserve mentioning. Saturday, I visited a fazenda of the Landless Workers Movement, known here as Movimento dos Trabalhadores Rurais Sem Terra or MST. The Landless Workers Movement is the largest social movement in Latin America with well over a million members.

The main objective of MST is land reform in a country were less than 2% of the population owns nearly half of all the fertile land. The movement started in the mid-80s and has grown tremendously over the last 30 years. The way MST works is the group first identifies a piece of land that is not being used, then they occupy it, then they gain the property rights to the land. This chain of events has been upheld in the courts in many instances due to Article 5 in Brazil's constitution which states that land which remains unproductive should be used for a "larger social function." (wikipedia)

The farm that I visited was located about an hour north of São Paulo in a town called Sumaré. The movement had seized the property over 20 years ago and the fields seemed maintained and orderly. We took a stroll through the banana fields and got a peak inside one of the houses on the property. We were led by one of the leaders and original founders of the farm whose beliefs in the success of MST were tied closely to his beliefs in Christianity. The house that we viewed had running water, electricity, hard-tile floors. We were served lunch in a school hall-like building where chickens were kept in the back and a few kids played soccer out front on a sandy field. It seemed like a productive, peaceful community. A thousand times safer than a favela where many of the people involved in MST would probably end up if not for the movement.

Obviously, what this group does is controversial and considered criminal by some, but I find it hard to condemn the people that I encountered last weekend for wanting to have a better, simple life in a country where everything belongs to the few at the expense of the many. Our guide claimed that MST is not a political movement, but there has been evidence that contradicts that belief. Still, I think extreme political beliefs are oftentimes the product of extreme circumstances. How else are these people supposed to make their livelihood?

The second notable experience I had last week was shocking, unpleasant and thankfully over before I could fully process it. I was stopped by a policeman with a drawn weapon as I was making the short walk from my house to the metro around nine o'clock at night. The policeman ordered me to put my hands behind my head and gave me a quick pat down while asking me where I lived and where I was from. Since I was obviously foreign he let me go, but the situation was certainly confusing and frightening.

I had obviously walked into a developing situation. I had passed a suspicious figure hiding behind a tree not far from where I was stopped by the police, so being stopped by the cops wasn't entirely unfounded. The Policia Federal have a reputation for shooting first and asking questions later. It's not much better than being stopped by a criminal. I guess in some way, my foreignness became an advantage for me in that situation.

On a lighter note, I cannot believe that the month of May is just around the corner. My 21st birthday will be next month, and my family has offered to put on a churrasca for the occassion. That means, good food, live music, lots of friends and I'm sure a beer or two will work its way between those three.

There's just something about Mary

2007-04-16T08:26:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I visited a town two hours north of São Paulo called Aparecida and commonly referred to as Aparecida do Norte. Today is a very important day for the people in that town and all Catholics in Brazil as it is the Festa de São Benedito or Saint Benedict's Party. That's right, the saints know how to get down in this country.

The town of 40,000 will swell to over 100,000 today as people arrive from all over Latin America to pay homage to Saint Benedict and Nossa Senhora de Conceição Aparecida (Our Lady of the Conception who Appeared). The story of Aparecida is unique in that the entire community is built around the tourism generated by Nossa Senhora Aparecida - a small statue of the Virgin Mary.

As the story goes:

In 1717, three fishermen were sent out by the local authorities to find fish in the Paraíba River. They went down the river and found nothing. After many unsuccessful attempts they arrived at a place called Porto Itaguaçu. João Alves threw his net into the water and brought back a statue of Our Lady of Conception, but the head was missing. He threw his net in again and soon reeled in the head of the statue. After that, according to the legend, the fish arrived in abundance for the three humble fishermen and their nets were full. (wikipedia)

Since then, devoted Catholics have flocked to the town where Our Lady appeared. The number of annual visitors is over 6 million today.

I visited the Basilica of Apercida, one of the destinations of the Pope when he arrives in Brazil in May. It is second only to St. Peter's Basilica in Vatican City in sheer size and can hold 45,000 people at once. Just think how long communion would take for that service.

Inside the Basilica is housed the original statue of Nossa Senhora which appeared nearly 300 years ago. It is viewable in an embedded glass display on one end of the church, and people pass through and take pictures or offer a prayer. It is one of the most underwhelming things you will ever see. Kind of like seeing the Mona Lisa, so I am told. Nossa Senhora Aparecida stands about 30 cm, with a cute little cape and crown. She kind of reminds me of a bottle of Aunt Jemima syrup. This truly must be a Catholic thing.

Below, the sanctuary is an offering room filled with the personal affections of people who wanted to give back to Our Lady for the answering of prayers. The 2002 World Cup jersey of Ronaldo hangs in that room along with dolls, tools, steering wheels and eating utensils. Things you see at garage sales. In fact, it looked like a really cool garage sale.

Outside the basilica is a food court with a McDonalds that contains an aquarium. The town is an interesting mix of commercial and Catholic.

Aparecida was packed during my visit as it was a festival weekend. Small groups dressed in brightly-colored traditional garments and lugging percussion instruments would dance down the streets, and the street vendors and open store fronts dominated the sidewalks. There was a horse parade in the late afternoon. Just a whole bunch of people riding a whole bunch of horses through town and leaving a whole bunch of horse manure behind.

It was an interesting place to visit nevertheless. Even if I don't understand the importance of an Aunt Jemima bottle without syrup.

Easter in Iguaçu

2007-04-11T13:52:00.000-07:00

For many, Easter is a time of renewal and rebirth - a time of cleansing. Of course, normally spring is right around the corner in Indiana. Down here, it's getting a tad chilly.

Still, what better place to reflect on purity than the Iguaçu Falls, where water - in all its abundance and majesty - seemingly flows from the heavens.

Words and pictures don't do the falls justice. They are something you have to see to truly understand. After a 15-hour bus ride, I spent the first day viewing the falls from the Brazilian side. I caught my first glimpse of water under gravity's influence on a boat ride in the pouring rain in which the definition of "soaked" was taken to another level. On normal rides, the boats explore more of the falls, but with the rain and high rapids, my group got the abbreviated tour. It was still an entertaining ride if only for the large swells that occasionally overwhelmed our craft.

The rain persisted throughout the weekend, but when you are viewing waterfalls you kind of expect to get wet anyway. Saturday, I took a bus to the Argentina side of the falls. A majority of the falls are found on the Argentina side, and we finally saw some sun Saturday afternoon. I was lucky enough to capture one picture of the falls with a rainbow streaming down nearby. No sign of Noah's Arc, however.

The Argentinian park also contained more paths to view the falls from, including one trail that takes you right to the mouth of Garganta do Diabo, the largest of the falls of Iguaçu. Approaching Garganta do Diablo from the side, it appears as if the water supply of the whole world is being sucked into nothingness. Up close, it is still difficult to fathom the amount of water rushing down its neck. I felt very small and insignificant in the presence of Garganta.

Just to contend with all those Americans studying in Europe, we took a trip to Paraguay on Sunday to record our third country in as many days. Paraguay is one of the poorest countries in South America, and the border between Brazil and Paraguay is notorious for drug smuggling. Many tourists in Iguaçu flock to Paraguay to buy things at a considerably discounted price. Beyond the bargains though, there wasn't much to see - unless neglected buildings and trashy streets count. After a few hours of shopping, we took the most delapitated cab in South America back to Brazil.

My decision to visit Iguaçu last weekend was spontaneous, but not random - the falls were definitely on my list of "Places To Visit While In Brazil." Pleasant surprises became a theme for this trip, however, since I traveled with a group of Americans that I hadn't spent much time with previously. Bunk beds and pool-side bars can make you familiar real fast, however. Four girls, two guys, one room. 'Nuff said.

I had a few flashbacks from my counselor days at camp Lutherwald to say the least.

I made it back to São Paulo around noon on Monday. I may have only one 10+ hour bus ride left in me.

This week I finished reading Steinbeck's "Grapes of Wrath." Originally, I was reading the novel for my U.S. History course, but then I found out we were only watching the movie. I finished the book anyway.

It's interesting to note that parallels can be drawn today between Brazil and one of the most American books ever written. While Steinbeck's novel focused on the struggle of migratory farmers in California during the Depression, reading this book helped me empathize with the thousands of homeless and displaced people that live in Brazil's large metroplises. Despite being abundant in natural resources, 80% of Brazilian's live in urban areas.

Like in California during the 1930s, this country is divided into the Have and the Have-Nots, and unfortunately the Haves always seem to do everything in their power to make sure things don't change - including manipulating the law. So much money in this country is poored into security. Personally, I find it hard to live where such obvious descrepancies exist between rich and poor.

It was tough not being in Bloomington last Wednesday as one of my favorite sports writers - and one of the best writers in journalism period - visited campus. No one will ever be able to tell a sports story with the old-fashioned charm of Frank DeFord in today's world. But nobody could back then either.

You can read about his visit here. I especially liked the end of the article related to the "power of sports." That's something that is strongly evident in this country as well.

Another "ferias," another "viagem"

2007-04-04T08:57:00.000-07:00

I finally got an eagle's eye view of the city I've come to know and (occasionally) love last weekend.

Sunday morning I took a bus to the fringe of the city and hiked up to the Pico do Jaraguá, the highest peak in the state of São Paulo. It was a beautiful day for hiking, and the trail cut right through tropical terrain. The path was a tad rough in a few places, and I thought a couple of my brasiliera companions might turn around and go home, but everyone made it to the top with a little encouragement. (For me, climbing 152 steps twice a day to reach my house turned out to be good training.)

Of course, we were rewarded in the end with a view of the city that taught me just how sprawling this place is. Miles and miles of buildings were visible from the peak. I couldn't pick out a single landmark. São Paulo has no center and all of the buildings are about the same size. It's one massive web of steel and concrete surrounded by a haze of green house gases. I took a few deep breaths of fresh air before starting the hike back down.

It's ridiculous really the amount of time I am getting off for Páscoa, Easter that is. Not that I'm complaining. I had one class this week on Monday night. The rest: canceled.

Actually, I still feel as if I'm waiting for classes to kick in here. School has been in session for a month now, but I haven't had a test or a major assignment due yet. May and June must be a real gauntlet for PUC students...or maybe not (hopefully).

At IU, I usually am holding on for dear life to make it through the week- figuratively speaking. At PUC, I usually am holding on to a tropical drink with a little pink umbrella - literally speaking. I'm trying to convince myself that I deserve this prolonged respite, that I'm being rewarded for something good I did somewhere along the line. Sure, everything I do here has some kind of priceless, sentimental "I'm in Brazil!" quality attached to it. But when are these teacher going to get down to business?

These are the things I will be thinking about on my 12-hour bus ride to the falls of Iguaçu tomorrow. I'm taking the bus to Iguaçu because:

a) It's less expensive.

b) The airports resemble a refugee camp these days.

Recently, São Paulo air traffic controllers went on strike, which messed up just about every international flight last weekend. Delta completely postponed their Saturday flight. How do I know? I watched the Final Four with their pilots at an Irish pub.

I will be spending my Easter weekend near the borders of Brazil, Argentina and Paraguay where one of the most amazing natural wonders of the world flows. The Iguaçu Falls are made up of over 250 waterfalls of up to 270 feet in height, and the park in which the falls are located is also home to many exotic plants and animals (like the jaguar and the anteater).

I heard that you don't breath air in Iguaçu, you breath butterflies. Assuming this is true, I'm packing a snorkel.

Almost Paradise

2007-03-28T18:49:00.000-07:00

Tall and tan and young and lovely
the girl from Ipanema goes walking
and when she passes
each one she passes goes ahhh

After my visit to Rio de Janeiro it's easy to see how a certain stretch of coastline could inspire such songs as the The Girl from Ipanema and Copacabana. It's impossible to walk along these renowned beaches on a sunny day without a catchy tune in your head.

The differences between Rio and São Paulo are vast. While São Paulo feels like an endless mish-mash of buildings and more buildings...and more buildings, Rio seems more open. The city's infrastructure weaves around the scattered peaks and wraps along the coast, so you always have that visual escape from urban life. There even is a national park inside the city, which is kind of unique. And despite Rio's problems with crime and violence, it is still one of the most beautiful cities in the world. No doubt.

When she walks she's like a samba
that swings so cool and sways so gently
that when she passes
each one she passes goes ahhh

My group flew in on Friday morning and began the weekend with a tour of Rio's historic downtown. Stuffy churches, classic libraries, provocative art - I think just about every city has these things, but I was in Ree-Oh Day Jah-Nare-Oh so it seemed innovative. We ate lunch downtown at one of the most well-known restaurants in the city called Confeitura Colombo. It was a buffet-style restaurant with one heck of a dessert selection. Of course I took full advantage.

For three nights I stayed in The Ipanema Hotel, which coincidentally is located right next to A Praia da Ipanema, sometimes referred to as "the beach." I didn't actually get to enjoy the beach until Sunday and Monday, but when I did it really felt like walking into a postcard. The waves build up right on top of the shore and the islands rest in front looking out into the Atlantic. A towering rock that touches the clouds towers to the right and the line of hotels sit behind.

On weekends, people flock to the beach to relax or play volleyball. Ipanema is the first beach I've seen in Brasil where people are serious about their volleyball. Even some of the older women can get some wicked spin on their serves.

The waves on Rio's coastline can be wicked as well. If you're not paying attention, every once and awhile a towering current will crash into the sand and leave you washed up on shore wondering who just hit you with a baseball bat. Several people in my group complained of shore shoulders, busted bottoms and headaches courtesy of Wave Monster Ipanema.

Oh, but he watches so sadly
How can he tell her he loves her
Yes, he would give his heart gladly
but each day when she walks to the sea
she looks straight ahead not at he

Friday night I attended a samba show at the Vivo Rio. Beth Carvalho, a well-known Brazilian singer, was the headliner for a show that celebrated the history and development of Brazil's favorite rhythm. I recognized one song thanks to my Brazilian music class, but sadly I couldn't join in with the rest of the audience who seemed to know just about every song. I think the U.S. could use a little more samba on the airwaves just to shake thing up a bit.

Saturday was a day of high altitudes and amazing birds-eye views. Not only did I take the cable cars to the summit of Pão de Açucar (Sugarloaf Mountain) and get to see Cristo Redentor shrouded in mist at the top of Corcovado, but I also went hang gliding in the morning. It was an experience that I won't soon forget.

Asa Delta, the hang gliding company, picked my group of three up at our hotel and drove us to a beach where hang gliders were floating in to land. In a nearby peak 520 meters above I could make out the small wooden runway where the gliders were taking off. Another shuttle ride took us into Tijuca Forest and to the top of the peak where the platform stood. There I strapped into a hang gliding suit and was giving quick instructions by my pilot/partner Rafael, who couldn't have been much taller than five feet.

Watching people take off made me a bit nervous. The runaway didn't seem too long. Each time a new glider prepared to take off the instructor would count to three, then the instructor and the paying customer would take a first step and begin to run together. And keep running. Right off the platform and into the sky. Yikes.

After a quick run-through of the takeoff and an explanation on the landing procedure, however, I was standing on the runaway ready to fly. The key is to keep running and not slow down as you approach the edge. I think I executed fairly well.

That first few seconds in the air was awesome. From my vantage point in the sky I peered out into the ocean, stared below at the tops of 30-story buildings and sailed between the tree-covered peaks. Of course, I left the controls to Rafael. After a few slow turns, the fifteen-minute flight ended on a sandy beach. My Superman impersonation was over.

Tall and tan and young and lovely
the girl from Ipanema goes walking
and when she passes
each one she passes goes ahhh

Sunday night was the 21st birthday of an American friend, so a group of us went to a Thai restaurant where the tables are only like a foot off the ground so you sit on the floor. Obviously everyone in Thailand is the size of Oompa-Loompas because that is not a way to enjoy a good meal. We also visited a nearby bar where the strangest combination of fashion and music was waiting for us. Grunge, emo-looking Brazilians were rocking around the clock to 50s rock-n-roll at a place called the Irish Bar. Jerry Lee Lewis is very much alive in this country.

The four-day visit ended all too soon, but I think I got to see the best parts of Rio. Besides, I've got to get this song out of my head.

the girl from Ipanema goes walking
and when she passes he smiles
but she doesn't see
she just doesn't see

The night before Rio...

2007-03-22T18:58:00.000-07:00

It was the night before Rio,

And all through the house,

Not a creature was stirring,

Unless you count the annoying little ants that creep through every house in this city.

Well, it started with the best of intentions.

As I've already indicated, tomorrow I'm flying to Rio de Janeiro (you know, the city where the girl from Ipanema is from) for the weekend. And I'm kind of excited. Instead of visions of sugar plums, I'm betting I'll be dreaming of the Cristo Redentor tonight. Or maybe peanut butter. Still craving it.

I have to be at the airport at six da manha. In other words, bright and early.

I think I walked into something of a job this week when a man overheard a friend and I conversing in English and stopped us to chat. Turns out he was looking for native English speakers to work as teachers for his students. I attended a couple of his classes this week and hope to begin teaching a few of his clients in the near future. As I found out, teaching English in this particular style actually helps improve my Portuguese, which I need desperately right now. Many of the lessons are entirely verbal and consist of a lot of translation and pronunciation - two things I need to improve on. Oh, and I'll get paid.

Last Saturday was St. Patrick's Day in case you didn't realize. I didn't until I happened upon an Irish Pub called All Black near Avenida Paulista. And since I've never been in an Irish pub before and it being St. Paddy's Day and all I took a look around. (Luckily, I was wearing green.) The place was packed at four in the afternoon and everyone had a Guinness or choppe verde (green beer) of course. Brazil doesn't celebrate St. Patrick's Day, so for the few Americans and Europeans in São Paulo it's like our little secret.

Back with the scoop on Rio next week.

Things Fall Apart

2007-03-16T17:01:00.000-07:00

Studying abroad can be taxing on your mind, it can throw off your body and - as I have found out the last couple weeks - it can wreak havoc on the ample few things you brought along for the journey.

Case One: My two and a half year-old laptop computer died on me last week without warning. If you have ever witnessed the death of a computer then you know that helpless, I-had-no-idea-this-was-about-to happen feeling that I experienced when painful whizzes and beeps began emanating from within my Dell. It's kind of like watching a train wreck develop in slow motion. Turns out my hard drive turned into JELL-O and I will be laptop-less until I return to the States. (I actually had only been using my laptop to listen to music and watch DVDs as of late, so really it's not a huge loss...except in my bank account.)

Case Two: I finally found a place to play tennis that won't cost me an arm and a leg - infact, it won't cost me anything. My PUC mentor (her name is Sarah, and I would be so lost without her) got me in touch with a tennis-playing law student named Aquina, who gave me my first "small world" moment in Brazil. Turns out Aquina was an exchange student in northern Indiana in 2002 and actually recognized the name of my high school! We talked about this as we met for the first time and drove to a tennis lesson in São Paulo, Brazil. There is just one moon and one golden sun...

But back to the "Things Fall Apart" theme. I haven't played tennis in four months, and I didn't bring the proper shoes or a raquet or anything, so I knew it would probably be a long lesson. That and it felt like 95 degrees on the court. Within the first ten minutes of the lesson I was sucking wind and my shoes had split at bottom so it looked like they had mouths or something. Anyway, I survived the lesson (and spent the next two days walking around like a 60 year-old man), but my sapatos - one of two pair I brought with me - were in bad shape. The thought of looking for size 14s (size 44s here) in this city seems a little daunting right now, so I took my kicks to a sapataria to be repaired today. Things fall apart, yeah, but most things can be salvaged.

Last Wednesday, I officially felt like I had joined the Circus when I visited a public school located outside of the city. Our group of 25 American students took a small bus to visit a couple public Brazilian schools as part of our Brazilian Culture class. The facility was nothing to brag about at the first school we visited, which was located near some favelas, or Brazilian ghettos, but the kids were enamored with my stature and obvious foreignness. After our group took a short tour of the place we stopped for a few minutes in a cafeteria-like room where kids were having lunch. First a couple kids came up to talk to me, which was nice. Then a couple more wandered over, and a few more, and a few more, until I was completely surrounded by little Brazilians that looked at me as if I was from one of Jupiter's moons or something. I was slightly embarrassed by all the attention - especially considering that I was in the same room as a couple dozen other Americans and very few kids were approaching the other Yankees.

It could have been the blonde hair, the blue eyes, my towering stick-like shadow, whatever the reason, the children came - and they came with questions. How tall are you? What's your shoe size? What country are you from? Do you play basketball? Some little girl put her foot next to mine and ran away giggling at the desparity in size. And then it dawned on me: This was my best chance to pose as a member of the IU basketball team. I left those kids thinking my name was D.J. White.

Which brings me to March Madness.

Yes, I spent about five hours today watching NCAA college basketball on ESPN. It was simply glorious. My first glimpse of March Madness today came while chowing down on tuna pizza (I don't recommend it.) at a nearby pizza place. Then I high-tailed it home for a that once-a-year b-ball marathon. I didn't catch IU's win. but there is a possibility I will be able to watch their game against UCLA. The Hoosiers will go as far as the streaky shooting of Rod Wilmont in this year's tournament, yes sir!

On a studious note, I decided on a topic for the 10-page paper I am required to write (in Portuguese!!!) for Brazilian Culture. I am going to take two things I know a lot about (sports and media) and unite them into a single paper that analyzes the portrayal of beloved Brazilian sports figures in the media over the last five decades or so. I am not a big Formula One racing fan, but I fell hard for the late, great Ayrton Senna after reading up on his life on Wikipedia. (Check out his notable quotes.) I think I might visit his grave in Morumbi.

Bad day to be a gringo

2007-03-08T12:46:00.000-08:00

The anticipated arrival of President Bush in São Paulo has been broadcast all over the news and been written about in the newspapers daily since the end of Carnaval. Most Brazilians adore America (in fact, its almost a little creepy how attentive they are to American culture), but they have made one thing very clear: They...don't...like...President...Bush.

In fact, I'm pretty sure just about every country in Latin America doesn't like the guy. Here, Bush is viewed as an imperialist, and his visit today is seen as the leader of a powerful country looking to exploit the resources of a weaker one. Ethanol, which powers most of the automobiles in Brazil, is expected to be one of the primary points on the agenda today when Bush meets President Lula.

At PUC - a very liberal institution, of course - images of Bush have been pasted in every nook and cranny depicting the President as incompetent, fascist and just plain stupid. One poster compared Bush to Hitler. A little extreme I would say.

Needless to say, when my US History professor asked if I was a Republican this week I shook my head no. Doing otherwise could spark some serious diatribes. It's not a good idea to say you support the current US President when traveling outside of the country these days.

It's interesting to see the uproar that has transpired due to the visit of my country's leader, but it's also a bit unsettling. Today, I was sure to avoid Avenida Paulista where thousands of protestors gathered to rally against Bush and America.

Traffic was severely congested today as roads were blocked off for the Head of State, who arrived with 4,000 security personnel. Four-thousand to protect one guy! I guess Bush had an idea people weren't going to roll out the red carpet when he stepped off the plane at Guarulhos.

Some American students who live near Paulista said they did not feel safe to be near the protests. Reports are just beginning to roll off the wire about the chaos in the financial district. The policia militar used tear gas to disperse at least one demonstration today.

It's not a good day to be a gringo in São Paulo.

Midnight madness every Thursday

2007-03-04T16:55:00.000-08:00

After a sloppy Carnaval, I began my first "real" week of classes, and I consider my schedule to be a favorable one.

At PUC, they offer morning classes (for the rich kids that don´t work or really even need to go to college) and night classes (for the middle class kids that work during the day). Luckily, all my classes are in the afternoon or at night. As I learned this week, this is advantageous for several reasons:

a) I can get up at 10 AM everyday without feeling guilty.
b) My sleeping habits don't get throw out of whack on the weekends.
c) The students that take night classes tend to be more mature and friendly. (Probably because they haven´t been coddled all their lives like the well-off children of the SP.)

The earliest class I have all week is at 1:30 PM. I´m taking Brazilian culture, Portuguese, Brazilian music and either photojournalism or aquatic ecosystems. (I haven't decided yet.) Oh, and remember the U.S. History class where I'm the only American? Well, I convinced another American to join the class. This takes some pressure off my shoulders because now instead of the professor looking at me to know the rate of unemployment during the Depression, he looks at my American friend (who happens to speak Portuguese a million times better than me). This makes me smile inside.

Over the weekend, the clocks moved back an hour in Brazil, so now it gets dark here around 7 PM instead of 8 PM. For nearly two full days, however, I had no idea that this occurred. I showed up to my history class totally confused when no one was there (actually, I'm finding empty classrooms to be common here, but still its always confusing). Eventually, I asked a girl if we had class today, and she was like, "Yeah, at 7:40." My watch read 8:00.

Since things will be settling down a bit now that the semester has begun, I'm working on finding some extracuricular activities to fill my downtime. It' not an easy thing to do when you attend a university that caters itself to the working student (and it's illegal for me to work in this country). I've started running in the mornings during the week - my legs killed this week after having been as physically active as Porky Pig the last two months. There is a nice path in the middle of Avenida Sumaré, which is a main road near my house, where joggers and bikers can do there thing. One concern on Sumaré, however, is the exhaust from cars that pollutes the air. You can really smell it on hot afternoons. My host mom told me to run on higher ground, but I really haven't noticed much air pollution in the mornings. Polluition is a hard thing to escape in this city anyway. Another real kicker is the 152 steps that I walk up and down to get to my house. That's a nice workout on its own.

I started practicing with a basketball team made up of PUC law students this week. They practice from 11 PM to 1 AM on Thursdays. A crazy time, I know, but when you are desperate to play basketball, you show up when they tell you. The court we practiced on had hoops that were maybe nine feet tall and we spent most of the practice running drill up and down the court, but it still was fun. I instantaneously morphed from an average to a pretty darn good basketball player by coming here. I might even start referring to myself in the third-person on the court.

This weekend, I made a pilgrimmage to everyone's favorite neighborhood bar and grille. That's right ladies and gentlemen, São Paulo has an Applebee's. The food is a little pricier with the import cost, but I was able and willing to pay a little more for a slice of home. Nothing says "Made in the USA" like a double cheeseburger the size of my head - nothing. Oh, and the free refills were amazing. Yeah, don't take those for granted.

Today, the most intense soccer rivalry in the city was renewed when Palmeiras beat Corinthians 3 to 0. The Palmeiras-Corinthians rivalry is like the Yankees-Red Sox rivalry in baseball - that is, if the Yankees and Red Sox played in the same city and their fans had to be seperated by police to prevent mass chaos. I didn't watch much of the match, but I knew whenever a goal was scored because everyone in the neighborhood would run out onto their porch and give a whoop - at least every Palmeiras fan. One guy in the apartment complex next to my house would come out with a trumpet and play a nice, flat note that would echo down the street. For him, it was a joyful noise.

Since, my brother Marcus works for Universal Studios here in São Paulo, he has the largest movie collection I've ever seen. Anyway, I've been picking out some titles here and there and found one that really hit home. I know Lost in Translation was nominated for an Oscar a few years back, but I never saw it until last week. It wouldn't have made sense to me before I came here anyway. Watching it reminded me of my first few confusing and dissorienting weeks in this city. I could have used a Scarlett Johansson to cheer me up that's for sure. Today, it seems like a long time ago.

A Carnaval de Chuva or Rain, Rain, Go Away

2007-02-25T10:02:00.000-08:00

How do you disclose an entire week of gluttony, indulgence and disarray? A week where refusal is out of the question and the pulsing music never stops. Well, you don´t. At least not entirely. Afterall, reputations are on the line.

Carnaval in Florianopolis played out like a college Spring Break in Florida, complete with a house near the beach, round-the-clock parties and red meat for breakfast. (Hey, when you´re shooting to wake up at noon everyday it´s not out of the question.)

I stayed in a rented house an hour south of Florianopolis at a beach called Ferrugem. The traffic was horrendous on the drive down as expected. I read that around 1.7 million people were expected to leave Sao Paulo that day. That´s a decent-sized city! We left Sao Paulo at two in the afternoon and checked in at Ferrugem at three in the morning. What I thought would be an eight hour drive turned into a thirteen hour drive-a-thon. The flat tire didn´t help.

In the spirit of the week, we took a stroll down the main road of Ferrugem after checking in to catch a glimpse of the night/early morning life. A surreal scene awaited.

A street party a few hundred strong was stomping and shaking to the techno music blasting from someone´s car in the middle of a blocked off intersection. Then another car pulled up a few minutes later and began blasting its techno music. I had walked into an all out techno-street-war. That wasn´t what was so funny though. The main source of amusement was the Argentinian men that were keeping rhythm with the music - particularly their hair. Single strand rat tails, double strand rat tails, all-out mullets. I felt like I was on the set of some bad 80s movie. I guess Argentinians love to visit the southern beaches of Brazil, and their hair is a dead give away of there country of origin. For comedy´s sake, let´s hope this trend continues indefinitely.

In contrast, the women appeared exceptional - wait, make that really exceptional. Do they have some kind of law against unattractive women in this part of the country? I guess there is a reason 7 Brazilian models appeared in this year´s Sports Illustrated swim suit edition. (I read that in a magazine, so don´t think I go counting these things...well, maybe both.)

My six companheiros and I spent most of our time in Ferrugem, but we traveled daily (and nightly) to the nearby city of Garopaba for the street Carnaval and food supplies. The weather was terrible for most of the week. It rained almost constantly for four days straight. I only saw the sun on our first full day and our last. This turned our daily drive into a daily mud ride as most of the roads in this area where comprised of dirt.

On the days where the weather was nice, I could see why Ferrugem is such a popular destination. The beach is golden and there is a nice, rocky hill in one area where you can get a good look of the surrounding area. Surfers flock to the waves, and on one day I even saw a couple kite surfers taking advantage of the strong winds. I think kite surfing will be my next hobby in another life. The only negatives were the cold waters and the blustery winds - that is, if you weren´t kite surfing.

For those who think of the ornate parades and scantily-clad women when thinking of Carnaval, please desist. That´s only what Carnaval is like in the large cities where they have parades.
Those kinds of things take place in Rio de Janeiro, Salvador and Recife. That´s where much of the insanity takes place and where most of the media images are broadcast to the world. Many Brazilians, however, travel to the beach for the week. They relax, they go to parties, they enjoy their free time. I was in that boat.

One night, while having a late dinner in Garopaba, I glanced at a television in the restaurant that was showing the Carnaval parades of Rio. I could see the insane floats of fire-breathing dragons and gun-toting alligator men (or something like that), the dancing women drenched in sweat from constant movement, the baianas twirling round and round. I was as close to that stuff as I was to the Super Bowl.

The cluster of houses that surrounded our place were always a good source of entertainment. As the rain kept most people from going to the beach, everyone instead stood outside their houses, blasted music and did their best running man. (Granted these are all young Carnavalers. In fact, along with ugly women, I believe the mayor of Ferrugem outlawed all people over 25 years of age.) A water fight would break out on occasion or someone would do a running dive into the kiddie pool. This is the neighbors, not me. It´s amazing what can serve as entertainment on a rainy day when you´re seperated from technology.

The food was one of the highlights of this trip as it was one of the few indoor delights of Ferrugem. More days than not, our group would buy meat at the market in Garopaba and have our own little churrasco or barbecue. I don´t think I`ve ever ate so much beef in one week in my life. One night, we went to a rodizio de pizza, where the waiters go around to the tables serving different kinds of pizza. I had pizza with broccoli, lettuce, coconut, peas, dark chocolate, white chocolate, plus all the usual toppings. Did Willy Wonka start a pizza chain in Brazil or what?

When the rain finally subsided, I had the opportunity to try the closest thing to a winter sport in Brazil: sandboarding. Sand dunes can be found outside of Garopaba and for a few reais you can rent a board and surf the desert. I´m not much of a snowboarder so I don´t know how it compares, but it was really fun - and really exhausting. There aren´t any ski lifts or anything like that, so once you slide down the dunes you´ve got to trudge back up. It´s like running stadium steps only the steps begin to sink under your weight as you go.

Runs down the dunes don´t end gently either. Most people end up wiping out in some fashion towards the end, which always is funny to watch - as long as they get up. After about an hour of sandboarding your whole body is covered in sand and you just want to collapse. It´s stuck to your face, your legs. It´s in your hair. Not the best feeling in the world, but it´s worth it.

The parties in Ferrugem didn´t start until around one in the morning. They didn´t stop until the sun came out. There were several barn-like clubs packed with people near the beach. The music of choice was techno and funk. Brazilian funk is probably the worst type of music ever created. It makes my ears cry.

I tagged along every night/morning though the clubs wasn´t really my scene. The free concerts in Garopaba were a little more interesting to me. Right outside the beach front, a stage was set up. On the Monday and Tuesday night of Carnaval people of all ages gathered and danced to axe, a type of popular Brazilian music. We arrive on Monday night at three in the morning and the band kept the party going until four.

All week, the beer flowed freely and people seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. Of course, how can one float through Carnaval without being kissed? I gave it my best effort, but at 4 AM in Garopaba this persistent Australian girl wore me down.

After a short conversation in which I ignored every sign that a girl wants you to kiss her, I managed to awkwardly peel this girl off my leg and rejoined my friends. As we were walking to the car to drive back to Ferrugem someone grabbed my arm and pulled me back. It was Australia. ¨I can´t let you leave like that,¨ she said. ¨Afterall, it´s Carnaval.¨

So I shrugged my shoulders and bent down - way down (this girl came up to my waste) - for a big, sloppy wet one.

Big. Sloppy. Wet. That was my Carnaval in a nutshell.

Tooting my own horn

2007-02-14T09:48:00.000-08:00

This is my blog, right? So I can add links to articles about myself winning awards without fear of repurcussions? OK, good.

The best part about winning an NCAA sports scholarship is you get your pic printed in the Final Four program. I don`t think even Gene Keady ever had that honor.

Carnaval is here (almost)!

2007-02-10T14:04:00.000-08:00

This whole waiting for Carnaval thing has gotten downright maddening at this point. It seems like everything I`ve done for the past month has been building towards this week of festivities. It`s like I`m a kid on the day before a holiday waiting for Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny to come on the same night!

I`ve tried to stay occupied by visiting the parks and deciphering my readings on the urbanization of Brazil. (Yawn.) The readings are thick in jargon and every time I look at the words my eyes glaze over and visions of baianas dance in my head. (Those are the Carnaval dancers in ornate costumes.) More about my Carnaval plans later.

Of the classes I`ve attended thus far, my favorite has been A Historia da America, which I thought would be about the history of the Americas - North, South and Central. As it turns out, it is actually the history of the United States. This is a pleasant surprise.

The class met for the first time this week, and I was the only American. This is a double-edged sword. I think it will be superinteresting to learn (or relearn) the history of the US through a Brazilian lense. There also comes the pressure, however, of being the go-to guy in the class. My professor continually glanced over at me to correct his English throughout the class and at one point asked me if I knew the unemployment rate during the Depression. Uh, sorry prof.

Going over the syllabus, the professor explained we would be reading As vinhas da ira, which is better known as The Grapes of Wrath in the US. (Titles of movies and books never translate literally from English to Portuguese. Sometimes I wonder who retitles films around here. I mean who decided to change Walk the Line to Johnny and Jude? They need to be sentenced to half an hour in the ring of fire if you ask me.) As vinhas da ira literally translates to ¨The vines of...?¨ I didn´t know what ira meant, so I asked one of my classmates.

¨It`s like your really mad because someone hurt you, so you get back at them with violence,¨ he explained matter of factly. ¨Like what Bush did when he invaded Iraq and Afghanistan.¨

Like I said, this class should be superinteresting.

Last Friday, I tagged along with my new brother Marcos to do a little anthropoligical study of Sao Paulo`s upper echelon. (The music, drinks and promise of beautiful young laidies did not factor into this decision.) His band was featured at a young lady´s private birthday party at the horse track in Sao Paulo. Marcos´ band plays American cover songs mainly, so I felt right at home. Marcos sings, plays the keyboard, percussion and guitar - all while drinking a beer inbetween numbers. I think he is what you call ¨musically versatile.¨

The party was held at the Jocquei Clube (Jockey Club) right outside the horse track. It`s interesting to note that gambling is illegal in Brazil, and yet people blow loads of cash at Bingo parlos, on the lottery AND at race horses. Only in Latin America. I recently noticed a large sign outside of one of the Bingo parlors near my house that said something to the effect that, ¨People that gamble frequently may experience financial or emotional harm.¨ They also print pictures of black, decaying lungs on packs of cigarettes. At least someone warns people what they are getting into I guess.

With so much free time this week, I decided to visit the Sao Paulo zoologico and brush up on my animal vocabulary. The Sao Paulo zoo contains a fairly diverse sample of Noah`s ark with my favorite exhibit being the Aves de Rapina, that is, birds of prey. I think the Harpy eagle is my bird of the month. Like zoos go, every animal is interesting for about 15 seconds unless they are honking, braying, spitting, squawking, playing, fighting, roaring or digging a hole out of their cage with a spoon. Then they are worth 30 seconds. And once you`ve seen them do their business, you know it`s time to move on.

American food abroad was definitely a disappointment this week. I was on Avenida Paulista and decided to go to my first McDonald´s in Brazil. Brazilians view the house that Ronald built a little differently than Americans. McDonald´s is considered quality food here and the people that work as burger flippers actually wear their golden arches with pride. It shows too. My order was prepared with so much TLC it actually looked like the picture on the menu! Here´s the kicker though: I paid the equivalent of $8 for two chicken sandwiches and the smallest McFlurry I´ve ever seen. I could´ve ate at a real restaurant for that price! Which leads me to this conclusion: Brazilians are thinner than Americans because they can´t afford to be super-sized.

In other food news, I went grocery shopping today in preparation for traveling this weekend and had a craving for one of America´s near and dear protein-filled substances: peanut butter. I heard a rumor that you could find peanut butter in Liberdade, the Japanese neighborhood, so I took a look this afternoon and hit up every supermercado I saw with unintelligble characters scralled across the top. No luck. The closest thing I found was some kind of wheat germ that looked like watered down Peter Pan. Not even the Loja Americana (American Store) sold jelly´s significant other. I think any store with Americana in the name that does not sell peanut butter is misleading it´s customers. How can they not have peanut butter in a city of 11 million! Eventually, I broke down and settled for Nutella and a tub of Pacoquita, which is a peanut butter-like candy that I found in the largest bulk candy store I have ever seen. I think I got a cavity just breathing the sugar-filled air.

All right, on with Carnaval! Let´s go! Everyone get out their party hats!

I will be spending Carnaval in Florianopolis, a city about 8 hours south of Sao Paulo by car, with an American and five Brazilians. Florianopolis is known for its beautiful coast line, and, since it is so close to Argentina, the people have a slightly different take on the world. My former host told me that one street during Carnaval in Florianopolis is filled with crossdressing males every year. (Too bad I don`t have a camera anymore, huh?) We are renting a two-bedroom house for a week. That´s right, seven people, two bedrooms! We will either really hate each other or really love each other by the end of the week (or possibly both at different stretches).

This event seems so foreign I´m not really sure what to expect. I could love it or I could hate it, but I probably won´t be experiencing another Brazilian Caranaval for awhile so I will be sure to take in as much as I can and figure out how I feel about it later.

Lost in all the Carnaval-mania, however, is the reason behind the revelry: Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. I´ll be sure to remember that part too.

A fresh start

2007-02-08T16:53:00.000-08:00

This week has been something of a new beginning for me in Sao Paulo. Classes began at PUC last Monday and I moved into my third (and hopefully last) place in six weeks. Classes really don´t get going until after Carnaval here, so the next two weeks are more of a preview or sampling of things to come. But first, how `bout those Colts!

I did get to see the Super Bowl late Sunday night and early Monday morning with a few American friends. Unfortunately, we didn´t get to see the multi-million dollar commericials that make the Super Bowl appealing to even the non-football fan. Instead, I was subjected to the same soccer commercial about 50 times. I think I would rather have watched the Chevy/Mellencamp commercial on a loop between game action, but I´m pretty sure that song is outlawed outside of the United States. This is our countrrrryyy! I am a bit dissappointed that I wasn´t around to celebrate the Colts´ Super Bowl Championship with people that actually understood football and had followed the ups and downs of the team over the years, but then I remembered that I´m wearing shorts while it´s zero degrees in Indiana. This made me feel a little better.

Back to less important stuff...

Choosing classes in Brazil can be a difficult and confusing process for American students. Brazilian students only get to choose the professional program in which they enroll. All their classes are mandatory. For this reason, professors don`t make detailed syllabuses that describe courses as students have to take the class whether they want to or not. As an international student, I get to choose any class I want, but basically all I have to go off of is the title of the course and maybe a brief general description. I know what I DO NOT want to take, but finding something I DO want to take may be a little trickier.

Since most Brazilian students work during the day, almost all classes take place early in the morning or late at night. But at PUC the first week actually contains very little class. The first week at PUC is dedicated to hazing incoming freshmen, called bichos, which translates affectionately to animal or insect. It is a rather alarming and disturbing sight to encounter a freshly released bicho on the street if you don`t know about the tradition. They look like a rainbow threw up on them as they are covered head to toe in sloppily applied paint. Some of them are wrapped in toilet paper, and some of the men have chunks of hair shaved off in random places. Needless to say, many male freshmen have buzz cuts their first semester of college. Oddly enough, everyone seems to be enjoying themselves - especially the bichos - and not even the 24 hours of rain we`ve had here as of late has slowed down the celebration of a new school year.

PUC is unlike any school I`ve ever seen before. Space is at a premium in the city and every building looks slightly dilapitated. Still, the place has character and it´s the people that really bring it to life. You can see a bit of the main campus here, although I don´t think it gives you a good idea of what the place is like.

Like I mentioned above, I moved in with a new family this week. There was nothing significantly wrong with the living arrangement I had before in the castle on top of a hill, I just was given the opportunity to visit a few other places and decided to take advantage of it. That being said, the giant cockroach that greeted me in the shower one morning with its legs flailing upwards helped make the decision to move a bit easier.

The house I am living in now is within walking distance to PUC and the metro and also has a tennis facility nearby (major bonus points!). I now have a mom and two host brothers who are older than me, work in the city and also have their own band. Oh, the house has lots of space, the largest movie collectionI´ve ever seen, I have my own room, own bathroom, Internet access - Is this heaven? I mean, I have to ascend over 100 white stairs to reach the house walking from PUC, so I actually think this might be heaven. And speaking of heaven...

This past Sunday was a day of odd extremes for me. I attended a German Lutheran church near the center of Sao Paulo in the morning. The service took place in the oldest Lutheran church in Sao Paulo and holds a service in German as well as Portuguese. I could follow the service for the most part, but I have no idea what the sermon was about. That´s nothing unusual though. One man thought I was German and was surprised to learn that I was an American. They probably don`t see too many Yankees walk through their doors.

It was a beautiful day on Sunday, so I decided to take a stroll around a public park and near a few museums downtown. Everything is a bit more still downtown as there is not as much traffic and it was a hot, lazy Sunday on this particular day. I did notice that there are a lot more homeless men in the downtown area. They sleep on the sidewalks and make makeshift shelters out of scrap material. The poverty foound in this city can be really disturbing at times.

Anyway, as I was making my way back to the metro I was stopped by a man about my age and his companion. The man didn´t appear threatening and stopped me by putting his hand on my chest. Being the naive foreigner that he thought I was, I didn´t realize what was going on until he lifted my shirt up and pulled my little pink Mary Kay camera right off my neck. He didn´t run away or anything, he just began to walk away with a smile like a bully that just stole some kid´s lunch money. I made a few mild protests, but really I felt there was very little I could do in that situation that would turn out in my favor. He knew it too. I stopped following the two men and went home. I was carrying way too much cash at the time, so losing just the camera was a bit of a relief.

I guess if I was going to get robbed at some point I would want it to be like that, but it was definitely an unexpected occurence at that time and place. I think I learned a thing or two from the experience about being a target because of my appearance, walking alone downtown and letting someone put their hands on you - even if they appear nonthreatening. Still, I can´t help but shake my head in amusement at the thought of whoever ends up with that little pink camera with Mary Kay scrawled on it. Yeah, that´s not going to look sketchy at all.

When I went to buy my metro ticket right after being robbed, the attendent asked me where I was from - as I obviously wasn´t from around here. ¨I´m an American,¨ I said. I didn´t smile.

Super Bowl Sunday/Monday in Sao Paulo

2007-02-03T18:44:00.000-08:00

The following is a column I wrote for the IDS this week that never ran. Oh well. If you want an update on my travels see the post below. If you want to read about my professional soccer experience click here. Happy Super Bowl Day!

I fell in love at a young age. Nine years-old to be axact. That`s when I discovered football could be fun.

It was an innocent love at first growing out of recess interceptions and backyard hail marys, but the affection quickly spread to the living room on Sunday afternoons. That`s where I met the Chicago Bears. They were mean and tough - just like I wanted to be, and it seemed like they measured victory not by the count of the scoreboard but by how dirty there jerseys were at the end of the game.

I bought a Bears hooded sweatshirt shortly after we were introduced and wore it to every neighborhood game of tackle football. It sometimes took three or four of my friends to take me down in that sweatshirt. Oftentimes they would give up tackling me and wait to two-hand tap me on the cement of the driveway. If only teams could have used that tactic against bruisers like Refrigerator Perry on the goal line.

Not long after hitting it off with the Bears, I bumped into the Indianapolis Colts one Sunday. They weren`t particularly intimidating or flashy, but they lived just as close to my home in northeast Indiana and who doesn`t love an underdog? I can still remember our inaugural season.

They had a running back named Marshall that knew how to get that extra yard and a quarterback named Jim who played so well at the end of games people started to call him Captain Comeback, like he was a super hero in tights. I fell hard for Captain Comeback and the Colts that year. I even asked for a Colts wintercoat for Christmas which I wore until the white horshoe turned yellow.

Sundays became a competition for attention between my two midwestern mates. Who was putting up the most points? Who had the best chance to make the playoffs? Who had the most exciting players? I never went a week of the NFL season without a game to look forward to.

Still, even though I came to know both teams intimately, season after season ended in disappointment. The Bears normally blew it early in the regular season and hibernated in January. The Colts seasons tended to fizzle in the postseason - a couple times in Foxboro against those pesky Patriots.

There were still positives to take my mind off the present troubles of my teams. For the Bears it was their past, their vaunted history full of legends like George ¨Papa Bear¨ Halas, Dick Butkus and Walter Payton - men that seemed larger than Soldier Field itself. For the Colts it
was their future, for the promise of a young man born to play quarterback named Peyton and a defense that could only improve from the previous season. For both teams it was the thought that next year could be the year - HAD to be the year.

Then a funny thing happened this season. The Bears and Colts started the season winning. 7-0 and 9-0 to begin the season, respectively. They faltered slightly in the latter part of the season - just enough for people to doubt. When the playoffs began, however, they were on their games. The Bears advanced to their first Super Bowl in 22 years in classic fashion - with sloppy weather and a blistering defense. The Colts advance to their first Super Bowl since arriving in Indianapolis by cleaning out every skeleton that hid in their closet with a thrilling comeback victory over New England. Now, the two teams that I`ve grown so close to over the years are meeting in Miami for Super Bowl XLI and I should be walking on air, but another funny thing had happened. I left.

A month ago, I boarded a plane headed to South America to study a semester in Brazil and expand my horizons beyond Sunday afternoon heartbreakers and Monday Night Football miracles. Both of my teams had been punchless in the playoffs for so long I thought I could get away from them for a spell without missing anything sensational. I was wrong.

I watched the conference championships of my respective teams without anyone to embrace and with Brazilian announcers using words like ¨incompleto¨ after an errant Rex Grossman pass and ¨Maravilhoso!¨ after a diving Dallas Clark reception. Luckily, a fumble in Portuguese needs no translation.

And so this Sunday, I will watch the Super Bowl of my dreams with ¨saudade¨, a word Brazilians use to mean a feeling of yearning or longing. If absence makes the heart grow fonder then I have never felt more connected to the beasts of Super Bowl XLI.

Partying in Paraty

2007-02-03T08:19:00.000-08:00

After my four day excursion in Paraty, I have to say everything in Brazil may be downhill from here. It was that amazing.

On the drive up, our charter bus stopped at a nice beach for lunch. Of course, relaxing on the sand and taking a dip in the water just wasn`t cutting it for me, so I decided to follow the boulder trail that ran along the far left side of the beach. Why relax when you can explore? I banged up my leg a bit when I lost my footing (it was the start of a theme for this trip), but the view at the end of the trail made it a worthwhile endeavor. After hopping from stone to stone for a good 20 minutes, I crossed a small channel and wound my way to the top of large granite island where a perfect perch for one beckoned at the top. The view was great. Distant waters, the beach at my back, the sounds of the ocean, a nice sun. It was very calm. I couldn have sat there for hours.

We arrived in Paraty in the late afternoon. Paraty, a coastal city south of Rio de Janeiro, used to be the beginning and end of the gold trail in Brazil when it was still a colony of Portugal. Today, it still rakes in the gold, but it´s coming from the pockets of tourists instead of the gold mines of Minas Gerais. The city has been virtually unchanged on the outside for a couple centuries. The roads made up of randomly arranged stones can best be described as cobblestone, and it´s a good idea to watch your step because trickles of water flow in the middle of the streets (not to mention the occasion pile of horse manure). The shops of Paraty sell all things touristy and many of the restaurants are super expensive, but the real attraction is the ecotours that are offered.

After our arrival, we settled into our pousada, which is like a bed and breakfast hotel. My room had old wooden floors, squeaky beds and old-fashioned wooden shuters. Kinda cute. The bathroom, however, was conveniently modern and the air-conditioning was heavenly.

I recieved my first introduction to basketball brasiliero-style that night when I found a court where a 3-on-3 game was being played. It felt good to be on familiar territory again - even if I had no idea what the score was.

On my first full day in Paraty, our group boarded a schooner in the morning at the dock for a tour of the islands. There were many commercial boats available looking for tourists. They were all fairly similar boats with canvas covers and wooden masts. Our boat took off with a group of about 50 people on board.

The landscape was beautiful throughout the tour. Island after island reminded you of a postcard picture. With the mountains in the distance, the trees sloping towards the beaches and the crystal water on all sides, it`s hard to imagine a more ideal landscape. Our boat stopped several times so people could swim in the water or walk along the beaches of one of the islands. At one stop, I enjoyed battered shrimp and cashew juice on a sandy beach. All that was missing was a little parasol for my drink to complete the picture. We ate luch (fish, of course) on the boat and returned to the dock in the afternoon. Though I did little more than lye on a boat all day, I was fairly exhausted when we made it back to dry land. I don`t know if I will ever have the energy to retire in paradise someday.

That night, I attended a puppet show like no other in the Teatro Espaco in Paraty. The show was entitled ¨Em Concerto¨ and was composed of seven independent scenes which ranged from cute and funny to bizarre and unsettling. The style of puppetry was rather unique as the puppets were basically like action figures, and the puppeteers dressed entirely in black and manipulated the puppets with their hands. Next time just give me Pinocchio or something. I can´t take dolls seriously.

The second day in Paraty, the group boarded all-terrain vehicles and went on an amazing tour in the mountains. You know you´ll be visiting some cool places when your guide shifts into four-wheel drive. After driving uphill for about an hour, we began the tour with a light downhill hike on the historic gold trail. Our guide stopped us at various places to explain the natural benefits of a few plants, but if my life depended on it I couldn´t tell you the difference between the plant that settles your stomach and the one that gives you diarrhea when consumed.

The highlight of the weekend was the gentle rapids and not-so-gentle waterfalls that we stopped to explore and swim beside. The water looked clean enough to drink and felt absolutely artic at first. I decided I would choose fresh water over salt water any day of the week. A few of us daring Americans ventured upstream about a quarter of a mile, hopping from stone to stone, struggling against the the rapids and wriggling ourselves out of tight spots. After surmounting a giant boulder and surveying our conquered rapids, we dismounted and made the tricky return. (Actually, we were told to come back. I guess they don`t normally allow tourists to do their best Louis and Clark impersonations.) The return to the waterfall was much more difficult than the initial journey. It´s much easier to fight the current when you are traveling against it then when you are traveling with it. I think I went down at least two rapids face first, and I`ve got the bruised to prove it. Louis and Clark probably did the same on their first river walk too.

I just finished the Intensive Language and Cultural Program in Sao Paulo yesterday, and let me tell you, they weren`t joking about the intense part. Just about every day this month there was something planned for us and even when there wasn`t something planned there were things to do. I spent this past week writing the papers - in Portuguese - that I haven`t had time to write for my Brazilian culture class.

I always thought this whole writing in another language thing would be easy once I got into the flow of things. I thought I would absorb the language like a dry sponge thrown into a bucket of water. It hasn`t been anything like that. I labored over those papers for hours, and I`m sure a sixth grader probably has better grammar than what I managed to patch together. Still, I`m glad that I was able to complete the assignments, and if I showed my paper to someone who didn`t know a word of Portuguese they would probably be impressed.

To celebrate the end of ILCP, our group met on the top floor of Edificio Italia, one of the tallest buildings in Sao Paulo. On the 47th floor, I stuffed my face with finger foods and bite-size desserts. After finishing all those papers, I had worked up quite an appetite.

It`s hard to imagine that I`ve been here for over a month already. I feel like I`m still getting to know the place. Next week classes begin at PUC, and I`m not too sure what classes I`ll end up taking. Enjoy the Super Bowl. Colts by a touchdown.

Happy Birthday Sao Paulo!

2007-01-25T16:26:00.000-08:00

Today is the aniversario of the largest city in South America, which makes me happy because I don't have to get up and go to class today. Happy birthday Sao Paulo! I'm not sure exactly how you determine the birthday of a city, but can you really have enough birthdays in your life? We need to carry this tradition over to the US.

Another eventful week in the SP. Since my last post, I've gotten a chance to visit the farmer's market that is held every Tuesday near PUC. It's called o dia de feria, which literally means "day of the fair." On "the day of the fair," produce vendors set up their tents along the street to sell fresh fruits, vegetables and other goods. It reminds me a little of the Auburn Free Fall Fair except the food is much healthier and only a handful of vendors give off that creepy carnie vibe.

The fruit selection is excellent - fresh pineapple, mangoes, papayas, bananas, you name it. There are some fruits I've never even heard of. You can also buy all kinds of juices including coconut juice and this kind of sugar cane concoction. (I tasted both and decided they would only be appealing if I was one of the survivors on Lost.)

As I learned the hard way, prices are negociable at the market, and vendors will try to squeeze every last penny out of you - especially if you are an American. I decided to buy four plums and three nectarines last Tuesday. The vendor was generous, offering me several sample slices of his produce. He practically forced a couple of cherries down my throat. "That's it," I told him pointing to the bag of plums and nectarines.

"Vinte reais," he said. That's over $1o, and I automatically peaked into my wallet to pay the man! Luckily, I wasn't carrying much money, and when I said I didn't have 20 reais he quickly took the 15 that I did. He probably would have taken 10 or less if I had had the sense to barter. Next time, I'm going in with a game plan.

I continue to be horrified by the way people drive around here. Last week, I was walking across the street between lanes of traffic when a motoboy nearly put me on the pavement. Call me old-fashioned, but I'm new to the concept of traffic between traffic. Here in the SP, I'm quickly learning to look both ways before you look both ways.

On another recent morning, I was lying in bed when the squeal of tires and a loud crash could be heard from my bedroom on the eighteenth floor. The only thought that came to my mind before readjusting the pillow? I told you so.

On Saturday, I took a day trip with a few friends to the beaches of Guaraja. It's about an hour and a half bus ride from Sao Paulo. The ride to the coast cuts through some really mountainous and beautiful terrain. It felt really good to get reacquainted with trees again. Unfortunately, it rained nearly the entire time drive up to Guaraja, and it was still raining when we were dropped off. By the time we reached the beach, however, the rain had begun to subside, and it was pleasant weather for the most part the rest of the day. We camped out under a parasol on the beach and relaxed.

There were some really gnarly waves a few yards out from the shore that made the water fun and refreshing. Several beach-goers rode the waves on body boards and there were a few surfers. Many of these waves passed over my head, so you know they had to decent swells. Even in the overcast weather, I manages to get a slight sunburn in a few spots that I failed to cover with sunscreen. Oh well, I'm sure there are more than a few people in Indiana that would take on a little discomfort for a day at the beach in January.

I also attended my first Brazilian professional soccer match last weekend. The off and on rain showers definitely put a damper on the experience, but I think my expectations were a little unrealistic going into it. If you would like to read more about this experience, I wrote in-depth about it for the Indiana Daily Student.

What I really would like to do is attend an intercity rivalry game in Sao Paulo. They are uber-intense. Today, one American student had to be escorted by security guards on the metro to avoid getting the snot beat out of him because he was wearing the wrong team's soccer jersey at the wrong time in the wrong place. He was very lucky to make it home unscathed.

Due to an unexpected development, I have to seek another place to live for the rest of my time in Brazil. My two former roommates Paulo and Fabio had to take in Fabio's mother, who is recovering from kidney stones, on short notice. Currently, I am living in a castle-like house on top of a hill with a family of three and another American student.

My host dad is a professor that houses international students on the side. I think I'm like student number 23 in the record book. There are at least four rooms set aside to house guests in this fort, and it's run as smoothly as a bed and breakfast. The cold stone floors, steep winding stairs and granite chandeliers are actually growing on me. The moat and draw bridge surrounding the house seems a little much though. (That was a joke.)

Yesterday, we took a gander at the Portuguese Language Museum, which was constructed in a renovated train station. It was actually an interesting experience, but our group didn't have nearly enough time to explore. Portuguese is a continually evolving language much like English with influences from many different cultures. It is obvious that even though many Brazilians learn English, they are really proud of their native tongue. Language really is a central expression of culture, and no one can truly understand this place until they understand the subtleties Brazilian-Portuguese.

Right now, I'm in the process of planning for Carnaval, which is less than a month away. As of today, I will be taking an 11-hour bus ride south to the coastal city of Florianopolis and possibly making my way to the waterfalls of Iguacu. That would be amazing.

Tomorrow our group is taking a four-day trip to the historic city called Paraty on the coast of the state of Rio de Janeiro. Supposedly, there are nice beaches and good hiking trails, so I am really looking forward to this excursion. As always, I will let you know if it lives up to the hype.

Last but not least, I was able to watch parts of the AFC-NFC championship games. Yes, this is the Super Bowl I've been waiting twenty years for. Yes, its ironic that I am half a world away. And yes, I will miss those multimillion dollar commercials. Someone better tape the game for me.

The good, the bad and the ugly

2007-01-14T11:17:00.000-08:00

A lot has happened since my last post, which was over a week ago. Internet problems left me without an online outlet all week, so I´ll try to cover all the happenings of the last few days in this post.

Since last Friday, I have undergone the CIEE Orientation at the Ceasar Business Hotel on Avenida Paulista, met a whole slew of students from all over the continental United States (there are over 60 of us total) and began the Intensive Language and Culture Program at Pontifica Universidade Catholica de Sao Paulo (or Poo-Kee as they call it). I´ve also witnessed and participated in more dancing over the last seven days than any week in my whole life. They really do love the samba in Brazil.

For your reading pleasure, I´ve organized the last ten days into three categories. First off:

The Good

Orientation went really well. I felt like my early arrival in Sao Paulo served me well as I already had figured out the general layout of the city as well as how to navigate the metro. The first priority for most of the students was getting a cell phone, of course.

The CIEE staff kept the program moving with sessions on Brazil´s history and racial issues as well as lectures on transportation and safety in Sao Paulo. We all took written and oral placement tests in portuguese to gage our language profeciency and spent our downtime eating good food (the fresh fruit is really good here), draining our money on Internet access, walking up and down Avenida Paulista and exploring the night life.

Several student moniters are part of the CIEE staff, and they organized optional activities for everyone at night. One night I went to a bar/club-type place and got my first taste of Brazilian samba. Another night I went to a movie - Brazilian, of course, although most of the movies here are from Hollywood.

The students in this program come from all over the United States. A large contingent go to school in Washington DC. It seems like many of them are more used to urban life and life abroad than I. They either consider themselves to have grown up in a city or have spent a summer in another country or have studied abroad elsewhere. Some of them grew up in bilingual homes, some of them are part Brazilian or have family in Brazil. I feel like I have a lot of catching up to do. Over half of the students participating in the ILCP program will be leaving for Bahia at the end of the month, but for now they are here with the Sao Paulo kids (which includes me).

Our first three days of class took place this week at PUC. I have two and a half hours of Portuguese in the morning and an hour and forty-five minutes of Brazilian culture in the afternoon. My language teacher, Fernanda, is very enthusiastic, and the students in my class seem far more comfortable with the language than I. I think this can only help me improve.

This weekend we visited some cultural and historic sites in the city. We also hit up a samba club on Friday night. The live music was impressive and some of the dancers were too. I haven´t quite figured out the footwork yet - unfortunately my high school years in show choir did not quite prepare me for this level of dance - but I can shuffle my feet with the best of them.

This morning I attended mass at the Sao Bento Basilica in historic downtown Sao Paulo. The art and architecture were really amazing and the place was completely full - although many of the people were there more to take pictures than worship. I stood in the back understanding even less than I do on Sunday mornings when the preach speaks my own language. The whole Gregorian chant thing sounded great though.

The coolest thing by far this week was our visit to the Sambodromo last night. Right now, preparation is in full swing for Carnaval which takes place in less than a month. The Sambodromo is the place where the famous parade competition takes place in Sao Paulo. In the parade, the fourteen schools of samba - comprised of thousands of participates for each school - have fifty minutes to pass through the Sambodromo with their jaw-dropping floats and exquisite costumes, singing and dancing the whole way through. Our group crashed one of the practice runs and actually got to participate with Mocidade Algre, one of the samba schools.

Although we didn´t know the words to the song (we carried the lyrics in our hand) or any of the choreography, it was really an awesome experience. Hearing all the people singing in unison and seeing the people above in the stands makes you feel like you are part of something special. And this was just a practice. We moved to the beat in lines and sang to the skies till our throats were sore. By the end of the thing I was dead tired. An hour straight of singing the same song over and over and moving to the beat will really wear you out.

The Bad

Getting to PUC was a real challenge this week. Most of the other students had their host families to physically take them to class the first day or two using public transportation. Since I´m living with a friend, however, I had to figure out how to get their on my own using guide maps and sifting through bus schedules.

The first day of class I was an hour late due to a mix of bad directions and confusion. Luckily, I didn´t miss anything since the first hour of class was spent dividing the large group into smaller classes. I have about a 35 minute commute every morning to PUC which involves taking the metro and then catching a bus. The third day of class, I overslept by an hour due to a faulty alarm clock and had to rush to get to class on time. I actually got their with 15 minutes to spare. Maybe I am getting the hang of this public trasportation thing.

Modern living did not treat me well this week. Not only did the Internet not work here, but the washing machine starts shaking like its possessed if you load more than three pairs of socks in it, forcing me to wash my clothes one article at a time. (I exaggerate, but not greatly.) And I accidently destroyed the glass cover of the kitchen stove when I was trying to heat a pot of water. Glass does not cool gently. I am currently treating all modern appliances like they are active land mines.

Today, we ate lunch at an oriental sushi-type buffet in Liberdade, the japonese neighborhood of Sao Paulo. The food was really good. I tried to avoid most of the raw things, but couldn´t help myself when I saw a tentacle wrapped in seaweed on a block of rice. I mean who can resist? It wasn´t terrible, but octupus doesn´t have much flavor and it´s kind of chewy. I think it would be better as fishing bait.

The Ugly

Riding the metro one morning, a little girl rushed in on one stop, sat right next to me, hunched over and promptly deposited her breakfast on the floor. Luckily, I was in the process of getting up to give her mother a seat and avoided getting spewed on. Sometimes being considerate pays off.

At the Sambodromo, I went in to the restroom and saw several groups of men doing lines of coke in the middle of the place. Drugs are easily accessible in Sao Paulo for those that want them, but it was kind of shocking to see that kind of thing in such a public place. And I wondered how all those old men made it through the parade without collapsing...

And since I like to end these things on a positive note, NFL Radio has saved my life this month. An Indy-Chicago Super Bowl would make me numb.

Baby Steps

2007-01-05T11:25:00.000-08:00

This week I learned how to crawl through the city on my own. I even took my first baby steps on the metro. Soon I´ll be running circles round this cidade - atleast that´s the idea.

Getting from point A to point B in Sao Paulo is not the simplest thing in the world. If you don´t have a car, the metro is the easiest and quickest way to get around. If the metro won´t take you where you want to go, then there is always the bus. I haven´t quite figured out the whole bus thing yet. You see, there aren´t any maps that show where the buses actually go. You´re just supposed to know where they go. I´ll save that adventure for next week.

I spent several hours walking around this week just to get a feel for the place and noticed a few things. First of all, nearly every main road has the same type of stores bracketing it. Shoe store, drug store, cafe, auto shop. Shoe store, drug store, cafe, auto shop. Didn´t I just walk down this block?

Secondly, there is no such thing as a straight, flat road in this city. Hiking boots are not out of the question for some of these sidewalks, and if you ever look at a map of Sao Paulo´s roads...well, let´s just say I´ve seen better organized ant farms.

Lastly, it´s a good idea to bring your umbrella because it rains off and on most days. And just so you know, don´t breathe through your nose. Air pollution doesn´t exactly smell like roses.

I feel a bit sorry for the people that try to speak to me on the street and around the apartment - although I´m sure they can tell I´m not from around here. At this point, they might as well be talking to a street lamp. I did, however, pick-up on the vocalizations of a boy that was following me on the street the other day. (He probably wanted something, but I have no idea what.) Something about baquete (i.e. basketball). Now, HE was talking my language.

On Wednesday, I took the metro to Avenida Paulista to catch a glimpse of the hotel I´ll be staying at the next four days as part of orientation. (I posted a picture of the place at the top of this post.) I am definitely looking forward to my stay at the Ceasar Business Hotel. Not only because I´ll finally get to meet some people, but also because I like fancy elevators.

With luck, I´ll be able to catch the Colts radio broadcast on the Internet tomorrow. A 4:30 kickoff in Indy means a 7:30 kickoff in Sao Paulo. My optimism goes as far as Bob Sander´s knee. Tchau.

A ¨Feliz Ano Novo¨

2007-01-02T05:53:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year everyone! I hope you enjoyed those college football games yesterday because I sure would have liked to. Alas, the only football round these parts actually involves using your feet.

As I mentioned in the last post, we decided not to go to Rio for the beginning of 2007 and instead stayed in Sao Paulo, which also boasts one of the largest New Year´s celebrations in the world. New Year´s is a big deal for Brazilians. They like to start the year with lots of singing, dancing and, of course, drinking. Fireworks, too. For nearly two days I could hear fireworks exploding somewhere nearby from my apartment.

An hour and a half before midnight on Sunday, we took the metro (subway) to Avenida Paulista, the city´s most well-known street where all the large businesses are located. By the time we arrived, the place was packed with people - most of them wearing white. (Supposedly, wearing white on New Year´s Eve brings good luck for the coming year.) A large stage was set up at one end of the street for singers and performers, but we were too far away to see much.

Street vendors were everywhere selling beer, wine, fresh corn and other goods. Making our way to the main avenue, we were searched twice by policemen looking for guns and other contraband I guess. Thankfully, they let me hold on to my little pink camera. I´m not really sure what the police force is like in Brazil (from what I hear, they aren´t the greatest), but on this night they seemed prepared - although, leaving the festivities I did see one policia finishing off a beer.

As we waited for the stroke of midnight, groups of young men would go by singing songs and dancing in the street, couples displayed affection freely (I was surprised to find the word ¨modest¨in my Portuguese Dictionary.) and the explosions of fireworks rattled between the buildings. The countdown began at ten seconds to midnight, and the place went wild as 2007 began - officially three hours before it began on the east coast of the United States.

I took a few pictures, but I´m finding that my camera isn´t the greatest at night. I hope your 2007 starts off in a traditional Brazilian way - with a bang.

Boy meets city

2006-12-29T06:39:00.000-08:00

I finally arrived in Sao Paulo yesterday (I say ¨finally¨ because it seems like I´ve been thinking/talking about this trip for over two years.). My flight out of Detroit was delayed two hours, which left me with less than 30 minutes to catch my plane in Atlanta. Talk about pressure. I did not want to spend the night in the airport. I made it on board with 10 minutes to spare.

The flight from Atlanta to Sao Paulo takes nine hours - that´s about three times longer than I´ve ever spent on one plane. My long legs were not looking forward to it. I survived (that may be a theme for these first few weeks) a night of awkward positions, however, and the plane touched down in Sao Paulo at 8:30 AM local time.

After an hour and a half wait to recieve my little slip of paper from the foreign police (It is a very important little slip of paper I guess.), I made it to baggage claim only to discover that my bags were not nearly as savvy at navigating an international airport on a tight deadline as I am. I wasn´t too surprised, but few things are as discouraging as the realization that you are in a foreign land without fresh underwear.

I met up with Paulo and Fabio around 11 AM (They had been waiting at the aiport since 7:30!), and we spent the next hour figuring out where we go to report lost luggage. Eventually, we found the proper hole in the wall. They said my bags would be delivered to me the next day. They better be.

From the airport we drove to the apartment I´ll be living in beginning in mid-January. For the first three weeks, I´m living in a different apartment. Paulo pointed out where my university was from the highway, but all I could see was the stone barricade. Still, it seems very close to the new apartment. The new place is located at the corner of Rua Natingui and Rua Vupabussu (try pronouncing that correctly) and has a really nice gym with a swimming pool, hot tub and even a racquetball court. I think I could get used to this.

Driving around Sao Paulo, I observed that stop lights are more like suggestions than anything else and the people on small motorcycles (called ¨motos¨) are crazy. They weave in and out of traffic, they drive in-between cars. Unbelievable.

The roads are in bad shape in some places, but overall pretty good. We stopped at an Etna´s last night to buy stuff for the new place. It was the largest furnishing store I´ve ever seen. Everyting seemed a little on the expensive side, but not extremely so. To estimate how much things cost in dollars I just divide the price by two. The exchange rate from reals to dollars is something like 2.14.

It is surprising to turn on the radio and hear the same freakin´ songs played in America - although Kelly Clarkson sounds great no matter where you are living. Even the Brazilian singers mix english into their songs.

I think I´ll be eating out quite a bit because Paulo and Fabio keep absolutely nothing in their refrigerator. Yesterday, we ate at a mall food court for lunch and a Chipotle-type place, Black Dog, for dinner - that is if Chipotle served hot dogs with corn, tomatoes, cheese and mashed potatoes on top instead of burritos. It was actually pretty good.

Our New Year´s plans have changed due to another outbreak of organized gang violence in Rio de Janeiro. I think we´ll be staying in Sao Paulo instead. So much for beautiful beaches and the Black-eyed Peas.

The clothes that I arrived in are just disgusting at this point, so I am eagerly awaiting my luggage. Right now if I look out my bedroom window, I see buildings and more buildings well into the horizon. I don´t see any favelas from here though.

On a final note, I have to share this one incident that took place yesterday morning while waiting in line for the foreign police.

I was standing behind this elderly couple from some place in Europe I think, and I offered the man some Dentyne Ice chewing gum. He accepted, but he struggled with puncturing the foil and extracting the piece. His two attempts ended with the white squares falling to the floor. I picked both of them up and offered to open the packaging myself and give him a fresh piece, but he insisted on taking one that had fallen on the floor. So I opened my palm saying, ¨OK, whatever.¨ and he took one and put it in his mouth.

Should I be disgusted because he just put something in his mouth that was lying on an airport floor? Or should I be grateful that he didn´t waste any more of my chewing gum? I´m sure I´ll be able to decide once I put on a fresh pair of underwear.

Post update: My luggage arrived the next night. (sigh of relief)

A pre-trip interview

2006-12-19T16:14:00.000-08:00

First things first, why Brazil?

I don't get out enough. Seriously.

For most people Indiana is the state they have to drive through to get to wherever they are going. For me, it is the place I call home. Having never lived anywhere else, I think this is the right stage in my life for a change of scenery, a chance to see things differently. Brazil will surely offer another perspective on life and my home state.

South America seems like a wild place. People seem to think a little less and live a little more - which is the total opposite of my personality. This way of life will hopefully hit me like a cold splash of water in the morning. Wake up!

Besides, it's summer there, the beaches are hot and there's a bikini-clad brasiliera down there that would love for me to be on her volleyball team.

Yeah, but couldn't you just get a summer internship in Slippery Rock, PA or something?

I suppose, but I want to be an outsider for a change. I want to be the ambassador, the foreigner, the funny-looking guy (although in a totally attractive way). These are things you can only experience in another country.

What do they speak down there, Brazilianese or something?

Actually, they speak portuguese, which I studied my first 4 semesters at IU. I'm not saying I'm fluent - heck, I'm not even semi-fluent. If you could equate fluency in a langauage to chiseling a wooden figurine, my wooden figurine would resemble an amorphous block of wood today. I'm going to have it rough at first.

Does living in a city of 11,000,000 intimidate you?

That is a large number, isn't it? I've never lived in a city, so right now it does seem a little intimidating - especially since Sao Paulo is the third-largest city in the world. I'll bet it will be completely different from the small town lifestyle of home. Not even college will have prepared me for this. But luckily, I'm not alone.

I'll be living with meu amigo, Paulo. He knows the ropes. He'll make sure my shoes are tied when I'm going out, and that I don't signal to anyone that I'm OK (a very offensive gesture in Brazil). I've got help.

What are you going to be doing down there anyway?

Well, I'll be a full-time student at the Universidade de Sao Paulo Catolica studying Portuguese and Brazilian culture - hopefully something journalism-related, too. From what Paulo tells me, it's a very prestigious university. I guess I should feel privileged to be attending such a good school, but today I'm more concerned with conjugating verbs correctly.

Aren't you going to miss things from home while you're gone?

Probably. Hopefully.

I already wrote a little about that in the Indiana Daily Student, but I won't really know what I am going to miss until the moment arrives. That's one thing I'm looking forward to: developing an appreciation (or aversion) for the way we do things here in the United States. It really is a perspective you can only develop outside of your native country.

Are these contrived Q & A sessions going to be a regular staple of this blog?

Probably not. There's a chance it may lead to some kind of multiple personality disorder or something. Besides, it's kinda creepy.

Any last thoughts?

I'm going to reference my favorite Estonian, Indrek Park, here. He once told me, "I think everyone should travel the world when they are young. It gives you ideas for your own life."

Got Milk?

2006-12-16T10:10:00.000-08:00

Welcome to Tall Glass of Milk, the blog that aspires to provide content as good to the mind as milk is to the body. (It's also managed by a 6' 5'' white guy, me.) The primary reason for starting this blog is that I will be traveling to Sao Paulo, Brazil in exactly 11 days to sudy at Sao Paulo University next semester.

Growing up in Indiana my entire life, I'm sure I will encounter many new and interesting things while abroad. That's where this blog comes into play. In this space, I hope to document my experiences in Brazil, the things I find amusing, the things I find confusing, the things I can't even begin to imagine today.

If you feel so moved, let me know what you think about my musings. I'd love feedback.