Loni and I spent one afternoon visiting a Igreja do Bomfim, a famous Catholic church on the outskirts of Salvador.  After navigating around some confusing bus routes for an hour or so, we finally arrived in the small suburb of Ribeira where the church is located. 



The architecture was awesome but what really captured my attention were all the little ribbons tied on to any free fence post and rail.  Most Brazilians buy a ribbon and then say a prayer or make a wish while they tie on the ribbon.  The effect of thousands of colored ribbons blowing around the church was quite stunning.



One room inside the church was particularly interesting as well as there were plastic body parts hanging from all of the walls and ceiling.  If believers had gone to the church and prayed for healing and were then healed, they returned to the church with a replica of the body part that was affected.  Salvador has a lot of churches and this was only the first of many that we would explore during our time in the city.

First view of Salvador from the ferry

The trip to Salvador from Ilhéus is relatively easy to make; it only takes about 6 hours by bus and then another hour by ferry boat.  The bus tickets were about $25 and the ferry was about $3.  Since Loni and I were spending quite a bit on classes, we looked for some place cheap to stay for the week.  In the typical Brazilian way or jeitinho, we found free lodging through one of our student's mom's friend's son.  We stayed in university housing with two guys who were nice enough to let us crash on an extra bunk bed.



It was really interesting to stay with students and experience the laid-back lifestyle to the extreme.  The students who we shared a room with were two very chill dreadlocked artists and musicians.  We also shared the room with their two cats, Dolores and Minnie, who seemed to have a particular affinity for getting cat hair all over my sleeping bag and clothes.  Fortunately, they were good snugglers, the cats, that is.



The free hippy lodging came at the price of sleep and smoke inhalation, however.  Our schedules were definitely not in sync and our smoking habits were lacking.  Loni and I rose early to get to class and crashed hard at the end of the day just when things were starting to get interesting in the dorm.  And the activities in a Casa Universitaria da UFB were a far cry from the happenings in Gilmore 312 at Hope College.  That's for sure.

Entrance to the school

Colorful buildings across the street

Loni and I spent the last week in the city of Salvador, the capitol of Bahia and the third largest city in Brazil.  We were able to do this because of the numerous holidays that our school had last week.  It was really fun to be able to get out of Ilhéus and see a new place.  It was also nice to take a break from teaching and from technology while we explored the city.

Monkeys in the city

Traveling to Salvador was also an opportunity to be a student again.  Since Loni and I don't receive any formal Portuguese instruction here in Ilhéus, we were both anxious to concentrate on some serious grammar.  Salvador has many language schools speicifically tailored for foreign students and we studied at one called Idioma.  We studied in an advanced group class for four hours every morning and then spent the rest of the afternoon checking out the various touristy and cultural places of Salvador.  I already want to go back!

Our adorable instructor

Nailed it

This time I'm not talking about the temperature in Bahia, I'm talking about the ever-present undercurrent of sex here; I've never seen or felt an environment like this in my whole life . . . like ever.  I knew that Brazil was known to be a pretty hot place and I was aware of all of the stereotypes about sex, but I didn't really stop to think about what that meant in terms of day-to-day life.  Let's just say I arrived here with a mentality that's too naive to even attempt to explain.  I feel like American fresh meat dropped into a tank of opportunistic Don Juan sharks.  It's out of control.  You've seen Eat, Pray, Love, right?  Picture the movie's archetypical Brazilian machista lover x 100.  Before I go on, let me just say that Sean has nothing to worry about and that I'm managing, but that I've just had to head back into the locker room at half-time and change my game plan.  Drastically.

The first words in Portuguese that I heard once I landed in Ilhéus, Bahia were from my shirtless and barefoot landlord who took one look at me and said the equivalent of, "What, this one's married? Well, don't worry, the ring will wash off in the sand here sooner or later" and everybody laughed, except me.  Later that weekend my capoeira instructor picked us up on our way to the beach and suggested that I "leave my ring at home."  At first I thought these were just isolated events, but I have quickly realized that this casual attitude toward sex and marriage is a normal part of the culture here.

The strong Bahian traditions of intimacy and affection can be seen in daily situations like the quantity and style of dancing, the very physical greetings/goodbyes and the frequency and normalcy of one-night encounters.  The language of Portuguese has its own set of words for the various levels of relationships that are practically impossible to translate into English. In addition, the attitude about sex in the community of Bahia is one of openness, tolerance, and liberty.  It's talked about, desired and pursued with obvious and impressive diligence.

In short, I've realized that Bahians only care about one thing: enjoying life.  They don't live to work, they don't stress or complain and they don't worry about tomorrow.  They focus on the next party, who's going dancing and when, the quality of the feijoada, and the beauty of the people.  Sex fits into this equation of the good life along with a strong shot of sugary-sweet coffee in the morning and a cold caiparinha at night.  If you're not fully immersed in the Bahian lifestyle and enjoying the whole package, no pun intended, then people start to worry and wonder about you, married or not.

My boss asked me at our last Fulbright meeting in a very concerned tone, "How are you managing to do without? Don't you feel sick?" The fact that he feels appropriate asking me this question in a professional environment should clue you in to what things are like here.  I told him that while I don't feel sick, I do feel like a freak.  In my opinion, August can't come soon enough.  And by that time I should have an even more impressive ring tan than I do now.

When most people (including me) think of dancing in Brazil, the first thing that comes to mind is Samba, but here in Bahia, the popular and traditional dance that everyone knows and loves if called Forró (prounced "foh-hoh").  Bahians are absolutely crazy about Forró and I am always amazed and impressed that most everyone here knows how to dance it.  Here, it's cool to be able to dance the traditional dances well and mad dancing skills are highly admired and desired.  Whenever I ask how students learned the answer is invariably a shrug of the shoulders and a response like "I don't know, we just learn it growing up."



In our neighborhood there are two main places to dance Forró: San Marica and Mar Aberto.  San Marica is a dance hall specifically made for Forró.  Every Sunday night there is live music and the place is packed the dancing couples.  You have to dance Forró in pairs and though it looks easy, there are very specific steps and movements; actually dancing Forró well takes considerable skill and practice.  Mar Aberto is a club right on the beach which offers Forró on Wednesday nights.  The cool thing about going on Wednesday nights is that they have paid instructors who will dance with you for free.  They also do some pretty incredible demos to show off how the dance is really supposed to be done.



Forró music is very special as well.  The traditional band consists of an accordian, a triangle and a type of bass drum called a "zabumba."  Some songs are fast and others are slow, some have lyrics and others are just instrumental.  During the dance, the man leads and the hand/body position is like the waltz.  There are turns and spins, inward and outward steps while the rhythm is kept at a one-two-onw-two count.  Most women dance on their toes and the really talented ones can dance in heels which is quite the sight.

Loni trying out some Forró with one of the instructors

On Wednesday night, I went to Mar Aberto for the first time.  I had been to San Marica before which was fun but also a little intimidating as I was quite literally the only person in the dance hall who didn't know how to dance Forró.  One of my friends from UESC danced with me for a couple of songs to give me a little introduction but for the most part, I just watched.  At Mar Aberto I was able to dance with an instructor which was a lot of fun but also felt a little hopeless.  It was really hard to stay with the ryhthym and try to follow his lead.  I felt completely lost - a feeling which is beginning to feel like a habit here.

This is not Forró, but one of the current popular dances here called "Ziggy Ziggy"

But the overall experience was awesome.  Mar Aberto, like its name suggests, is right on the beach with large open windows to the sea.  While you're dancing you can see the ocean and feel the ocean breeze.  When things start to heat up on the dance floor, however, the bar has to turn on giant industrial fans because of the already high temperatures, even at 11pm at night.  With the live band on the balcony, the impressively smooth and good-looking male and female instructors (yep, Sean, that means you get to learn here when you get here too!), I felt like I was in a scene from a Brazilian version of Dirty Dancing.  It was kind of like a dream come true.

The other weekend, Loni and I had our first taste of genuine American food in over a month.  Though our small city does have a Subway, we hadn't been able to find it yet and thus traveled about an hour to the neighboring and much larger city of Itabuna which has a shopping mall with a McDonalds.  We were dropped off in the middle of the city and eventually found the mall by asking everyone we could find where o shopping was (that's how you say the mall in Portuguese).



The food court was hopping and McDonalds was packed with hungry Brazilians.  I didn't notice anything too different about the restaurant except that you could get corn with everything and that it was a little more expensive than the McDonalds in the States.  There were also quite a few additional flurry and shake varieties with unfamiliar flavors and candy.  Loni got a Big Mac meal and I got a quarter pounder meal; we both devoured them a little too quickly and definitely paid the price for that later.

Shopping mall entrance

Though I probably wouldn't go to the mall in the U.S. to eat at McDonalds, when you are far away from home anything familiar tends to taste fantastic and much better than normal whether it be a cold can of Coke, a Hershey's chocolate bar or a burger and fries from Mickey D's.

Yum

The desk that I used in my shared office; it has air conditioning - a HUGE bonus

Poster for "Language Week" - Loni and I have to organize this year's conference in November (Sean - you get to help too!)

Coffee and water are delivered every morning - though I could easily drink this whole thermos myself, it's normal here to only have a tiny cup/shot of coffee

Everything kind of comes to a halt when there's an important soccer game on, seriously.

Everything is tied down everywhere - scissors, pens, staplers etc.

Classes can be pretty casual sometimes . . . especially on Monday mornings

Documents only matter if they are stamped and signed by about fifty different departments - here you can see the hours and types of classes that Loni and I give.  Ahh the hoops and hurdles of the crazy bureaucracy.

Showing off some capoeira moves

After experiencing life in the small town of Eunapolis, Eric, Loni, Eric's sister and his friend and I rented a car and made the 45 minute drive to the tourist mecca of Porto Seguro.  Porto Seguro is known for its beaches, parties and shopping but it's also considered to be the place where Brazil was first discovered.  We arrived in the morning to streets lined with huge tourism buses, crowded beaches and a beautiful sunny day.

Dance party. Woot woot.

After slathering myself with sunscreen, we headed to the main draw - a beach/club/party called Axe Moi.  Axe Moi was unlike any place I had seen before.  It was what I would imagine a mixture of Carnival and an American teenager's spring break to be: loud, obnoxious, colorful, drunk, dancing, scantily-clad and crowded.  I think my jaw was in a perpetually dropped position the entire day.  We joined the crowd in front of the stage to watch our beautiful/handsome transvestite host lead us in some dances while giant water fountains soaked us from every angle.  I felt like I was on some edition of Girls Gone Wild except that it was more like Brazilians just being Brazilian.

Getting my cheese on a stick grilled

After working up a sweat from dancing, we went swimming and tried some of the snacks on the beach.  You can have pretty much anything you want from the mobile vendors hauling their portable grills and coolers around.  We tried shrimp on a stick, grilled cheese on a stick, empanadas, sticky coconut, cashews and popsicles.  You can also get pirated DVDs, necklaces, bracelests, earrings, T-shirts and the like.  It felt like a circus at the beach.  After a late lunch we spent the afternoon at the touristy Artesenal market which took over an entire street and led to a giant cross, which was the supposed location of the first mass performed in Brazil.

Yep, it was heaven on a stick, if you like cheese

Seafood anyone?

In the evening, we headed back to a friend of a relative's beach house and showered to get ready to go out.  I had been warned that we weren't going to sleep that night.  Everyone else seemed strangely excited by this notion whereas I only felt vaguely disappointed.  Perhaps this is what happens when one is almost 32.  Much to my surprise, getting to the particular club involved taking a ferry to some faraway riverbank.  While we were boarding, Loni and I looked at each other like, "We're taking a ferry?"  Yep, a lot gets lost in translation - especially with uncommon words like "ferry."

Location of the discovery of Brazil

The night was fun and we had a good time.  We drove back to Erik's city in the wee hours of the morning, collapsed on mattresses on the floor and woke up just in time to barely make it to the bus station to start our 5 hour bus ride back home.

Night swimming

This is my "I didn't know we were actually going to have to take a ferry to the club" face

Loni and I, opening our presentation

Public speaking, not my favorite but a necessary part of the job

In some sense, living abroad is a chance to start over; it's a clean slate with the freedom of re-inventing yourself if you so desire.  For me, this freedom, though liberating, is also a little overwhelming and scary.  I've come to find that living abroad magnifies exponentially even the tiniest struggles you were having back home.  Lonely? Depressed? Anxious? Insecure? Unsure about the future? Going to another country is not going to solve any of that and in fact it's going to get worse before it gets better.  Believe me.

Showing how we slow dance (completely foreign to Brazilian students)

Modeling the country line dance "Boot Scootin' Boogie"

This time, for me, I've been struggling with personal identity - something that I wasn't anticipating.  I thought I was pretty solid about who I was and why I was coming here but that changed quickly when I was thrown in with a hierarchy/clique-crazed university, a very outgoing roommate and the fact that I'm following in the footsteps of two other much-loved American Fulbrighters who were ending their year here just a few months ago.  The comparisons made by the students between Loni and me and between us and the previous ETAs are omnipresent and very vocal.  Comparisons are natural but they can be hard to hear sometimes and they get old really fast.  Really fast.

Loni in full country gear

Me teaching the country line dance

One thing that Loni and I have been trying to emphasize to our students and anyone else at the university is that though we are both American, we grew up in wildly different environments and thus carry with us almost a polar opposite set of ideals, perspectives and beliefs.  Loni comes from a very diverse inner-city and I come from small town Midwestern America.  She is more of a fan of Mexico than the States and has never dated/would never think of dating a gringo whereas I carry a lot of love and pride for my hometown and my country and I'm married to such a gringo.  She is an ultra social person and disagrees with the church while I'm not so outgoing and religion is a big part of my life.  I think an awareness of these differences is a valuable insight for the students to have but it can be a painful process to witness when you're on the other end of it. 





The aforementioned differences were made extremely clear last night during our first cultural event at the university: "Music and Dance in the U.S.A."  Loni and I each talked about three types of music and dance that we had experienced in our lives.  For a few of the dances, the students participated and were able to learn the steps and the music.  I talked about dancing at events like the Prom and Homecoming, community Dutch Dancing and country line dancing.  Loni explained "grinding", the Cupid Shuffle, Chicken Noodle Soup, the original Harlem Shake as well as some Mexican-influenced dances.  The presentation went well and it made me see that our differences can be an asset but it also felt a little bit like a competition.

Teaching the Cupid Shuffle

I'm struggling with the fact that I'm not the cool/fun/crazy/outgoing ETA but rather someone else who I haven't really nailed down yet.  It's hard to feel like we are not just in the middle of one giant popularity contest as all of our classes and events are completely optional.  I'm finding myself asking questions like, "Why am I here?" "What can I uniquely and personally offer to this community of students?" "What routines and ideals are of top priority in my life here?" "How can I be social and meet people without going to late-night parties every single weekend?" "Where can I find the much-needed affirmation that who I am is ok without wishing I were more like someone else?"  It goes on and on.  Again, these are similar to questions I would ask myself at home but starting over in a new place puts them squarely in my field of vision and directly under a microscope. 

I relayed some of these doubts to the student monitor of our program here.  "I'm not sure I am the type of person the students were expecting when compared with last years' participants and my current partner."  "Sarah," he said.  "Don't worry.  God made you the way you are for a reason."  He's right, of course.  Now I just have to find that reason.

Loni teaching Chicken Noodle Soup (Yeah, I didn't know what it was either - Google it)