Bittersweet Symphony: Dexter, Aksie, and eating little children for lunch!

I can't believe Monday will be the start of my last week here in Salvador, Bahia! This "Land of Happiness" feels more like the "Land of Sadness". I really wish I could stay here longer and experience all Salvador has to offer in the summertime.

With that said, I am also excited to get back to the States. I really miss my family and my friends back in Philly. Upon return, I will party it up in NYC with my family friend, Sheila. On the weekend, my close friend Nicole (and future roomie!) will celebrate her 21st in Philly...finally. She is the baby in the group and I can't wait for her to be able to party like a legal lady! I can't say that I am too eager to chill in Jersey, but there certainly is no place like home!

Watching three of my close friends leave yesterday was really difficult. They are all equally a pleasure to be around...when together, much laughter and smiles are guaranteed! Thankfully, Aksana lives in NYC; I will definitely get to see her sometime this month. I purposely let her take this dress I got in Camden, London so that we would have to meet up! Before Aksana, Polo, and Kasia left, we finished the mural in the courtyard downstairs. The pencil sketches of Aksana came to fruition at last. The 70's retro-like colors are beautiful in all their geometric glory. At the moment, I am working on the design and execution of a mural on the 3rd floor. It features the lighthouse, Farrol de Barra, and the Cross-Cultural symbols climbing up the cliff (I guess, rappelling in the opposite direction). There is a ship, named Cross-Cultural Solutions, Salvador, Bahia. Lastly, the light streaming from the lighthouse will be the space where Jack (Reed Timmer) will spray paint "Brazil".


Friday was such a (Brazilian, Bahian) blast! We spent it at Rio Vermelho. It was relaxed relative to our usual weekend activity. We sat in yellow plastic chairs and drank beer and relished cheese, meat, and fish pastels (or little empanadas). I learned a little bit about rugby formations and terms from Reed Timmer. I couldn't help but order a caipiroska as well.

This past week was hectic and hard to keep up! My stomach was out for half the time...it makes me detest some of the food I love to eat. Alcohol never improves the situation....nor does raw beef. My philosophy sometimes is no pain, no gain. My roommate made fun of me for craving sushi whilst having stomach issues. Since we are talking about food, I had the chance to do some cooking in an attempt to de-stress...and of course to satiate my hunger! I fried aubergines with coriander (cilantro), fresh garlic, yellow onions, and a bit of salt. This is quite comical because I used to hate eggplants! I also made fish, trying to mimic the amazing one I had at Praia de Forte (the turtle place). I cooked it with loads of lime, roasted garlic, tomatoes, salt, coriander and chillies. It was delicious!

As an excursion, a bunch of us visited the market. This place is expansive and is home to all types of vendors. They sell fruits, vegetables, woodwork, spices, medicinal herbs, and raw, dried meat. My stomach, already upset, underwent new trauma as we walked past broken cow limbs and dark liver parts. I couldn't help but laugh thinking about Dexter and how this would be the perfect facade for the "Ice Truck Killer"...or Bynie--that SICK JERK.

Speaking of sick, I hate to say this, but I am starting to get a little sick of Dexter. We literally have watched at least 30 episodes thus far, ranging from Season 1 to Season 4. One of the guys felt the urge to continue the saga and so he went to the mall for two hours and came back with Season 4--that's it. As I speak, the season finale of Season 4 has culminated. It was crazy intense and my heart cries for little Harrison sitting in that pool of blood. John Lithgow, you might have made the little kiddies laugh as Lord Farquaad in Shrek, but your character is just effed up in this show (excuse my....Portuguese! But that was a euphemism of sorts). You are one scary old guy with this creepy charm that fools the masses.

 I really want Debra and Quinn (who reminds me of Paul Walker) to get together! That poor girl has been to hell and back, what with the recent Lundy shooting and her fiancee-turned killer. Also in the love department, Batista and LaGuerta are too cute together! I hope that Dexter can find someone as amazing as Rita.

Sorry that this post has turned into a venting session about Dexter. Moving on to another topic, I cannot fathom how hard it will be to leave my little nuggets at the daycare. Everyday, I become more and more infatuated with how cute they are. They are so affectionate and open with their feelings. Seeing a little, chubby 4-year-old argue in high-pitched Portuguese is too funny. I can't help but laugh at this soap opera, starring little children. The fat kids are my favorite, because I love to pretend to cut their cheeks off and eat them for lunch. The children always find this funny and try to do it to me.



Anyways, that's all for now! When I started this post, I was just looking for an excuse to release some creative juices INSTEAD of watching Dexter...AGAIN. I will write again in about 4 days, so that I can write my closing chapter for the amazing novel that is Arlene's Adventure in Brazil!

Mr. Brazil, a man of great charisma!

Hello everyone!

Here is the post I promised about all things cultural! In an attempt to strip this post of any boredom-inducing paragraphs, I will break up topics in sections and use bullet points instead.

Quick Guide to Portuguese: some random words that end up coming quite in handy!

Portuguese is similar to Spanish in many regards. In my opinion, there are three distinct differences in terms of phonemic pronunciations. For one, a "r" is pronounced with a "h". Also, a "d" in the middle of a word is expressed with a "g" sound. Lastly, "t" sounds like "c". This makes for interesting pronunciations for some of my students. For example, Arthur sounds like "Ah-two"; Victor is pronounced "Vee-toe".

• Obrigada/o   Thank you (instead of choosing gender based on subject, it is chosen based on who you are. So, for example, as a female, I solely use "a" at the end)
• Bom Dia                  Good Morning
• Pousada                  Hotel
• Onde                       Where?
• Desculpe                  Sorry
• Beleza                      Cool
• Voce                         You
• Tenho                      have (in terms of age)
• Pare, agora             Stop, now (comes in handy in the classroom!)
• Pastel                       An empanada-like pastry snack
• Oi                             Hi
• Sim                          Yes
• Como te chamas?  What are you called?
• Vermelho                 Red
• Bom                          Good
• Forte                         Strong (foe-chay)  
• Tchau                        Goodbye                   

Factoids and Interesting Aspects of Bahia Culture

• A popular street snack is fried tapioca balls (similar to Indian bhel puri) filled with shrimp and an orange, grainy ragu.
• Farofa is a flour-like powder that is used during almost every meal to add texture to curries, grilled and salted meats and rice (Pictured).

• Chillies here are super hot! At every meal, a pico de gallo filled with these hotties is offered. 
• In Brazil, the "A-ok" sign means something entirely different. Let's just say that the sign and the middle finger are good friends!
• In addition to the ever-so-popular samba, capoeira is the main dance of Bahia. The dance combines rhythmic samba and salsa with tae kwon do-like moves. The choreography is choppy, yet graceful at times. 
• There is a misconception about Africans coming to Brazil and settling. Slaves were not the first inhabitants here. Instead, African explorers were the first to arrive. Centuries later, Salvador is the center of Afro-Brazilian culture. 
• Tuesday's and Saturday's are big in Salvador--especially in regards to live music. Usually on Tuesdays, we visit Pelhorino and eat and drink from local vendors in the square by the church. We then attempt to samba our way to the front of the stage. On the weekend, we enjoy chill-axing at "The Red River" (Rio Vermelho).
• Another common snack, usually sold on the beach, is cheese on a stick. It kind of looks weird though, like a bit spongy and the color of a milky, washed out yellow. It is heated on the spot upon hot charcoal. Have yet to try it...
• An amazing cheese in Brazil is called catupiry. I would say it is a combination of alouette, cream creese, and goat cheese. A really nice local pizza place offers this, accompanied with green olives and palm hearts on a thin crust. Muito (very) amazing!
• Caipirinha is to Brazil as Mojito is to Cuba. This drink of sweet goodness has very simple ingredients: Cachaca (rum), muddled lime, and sugar. It is my new favorite drink! Replacing the rum with vodka gives it a smoother taste (Caipiroska).
• Elevador Lacerda connects the two main sections of the city, Cidade Alta (Upper City) and Cidade Baixa (lower city). The view from the top is incredible!
• Farol da Barra Lighthouse is a mere 10 minutes from my house. The sunset from the hill where it sits upon is exquisite!
• Salads here love to feature beets, cooked carrots, and green beans. It's delicious and refreshing!
• Acai is ultra popular here! Matched with various fruit syrups and sugared granola, it is a healthy dessert treat. It can be compared to the popularity of fro yo in the U.S. 

 Delightful Destinations around Salvador

Praia de Forte

 All turtle reserves make me think of is Dana Carey in one of my fave flicks, Master of Disguise! This place is a charming village dotted along the beach. It is hugely commercial but in all the right ways. Areas that look like baby pools are home to all sorts of turtles and tortoises. Whale watching is also an option here. I had probably the second best fish I have ever tried, ever. Digging into it on the beach where it was procured by fishermen helped make the little guy more amazing. Accompanied with lime (limao), garlic (alho), olive oil, and sea salt (sal) and combined with the spicy pico de gallo aforementioned....this was a 1st-rate meal (and it showed in the bill, unfortunately!). 

Morro de Sao Paulo

This island is incredible and should definitely be an item on any traveler's bucket list! A quaint and spirited beach town, the destination is home to several beaches. Fresh seafood is ubiquitous, as is adventurous activities such as ziplining, banana boating, and diving.  Hotels are everywhere and are fairly inexpensive. However, the 3 hour boat ride from and to Salvador is deadly--and pricey! I made up a new adage: no nausea, no island!

Everyday Entertainment

So as aforementioned in an earlier post, I am here with an awesome group of people. Because there is a mish-mosh of so many personality traits, we never go a day bored. The two Jacks' 18-year-old selves are rubbing off on us, senior citizens.   Polo's constant optimism inspires us to live in the moment (#beleza). Talia's smoky, soulful voice serenades us everytime and we can't help but urge her to start a music career. Jack Weber's rendition of Outkast's Hey Ya is haunting and we love to join in. Anderson's obsession with the number 43 (hence, the newly-inked tattoo on his wrist) causes all of us to seek out the magic number (so far, we've encountered a disco club and a Brazilian whiskey!). Tyler and Hannah's daily runs makes us envious, while Aksana's artistic brilliance puts us all to shame. Kelsey's laugh is so contagious, putting a smile on everyone's face! As for me, I think I am the goofy one in the group--and I think I'm ok with that!

Here are a few things that we do everyday in our free time:

1. Ice cream down the street

2. Visits to the mercatto to relish mini-pastries

3. Walks down to the beach (day and night!)

4. Watching the sunset at the French's school cafe!

5. Zumba classes....by Arlene!

6. Samba and capoeira classes

7. Movies (MAGIC MIKE IN PORTUGUESE. GOLDEN.)

Yes, of course this is an excuse to show off my future hubby, as bad boy and saucy as he is!

8. Painting murals on our homebase walls

9. Watching Dexter...OBSESSIVELY (often we get in fights because one of us [cough, cough Timmer] will watch episodes without the other, skewing the whole plan to follow the show together....meanie!)

10. Attempting to watch Meet Joe Black and not get distracted by 1. other convos in the room 2. Brad Pitt's beauty 3. the fact that Anthony Hopkins looks like Frank Sinatra's twin! (Next time I watch will be Attempt 3)

11. Getting sarongs near the light house

12. Jamming to samba and sipping caipirinhas in Pelorinho

13. Going to La Barra, the local mall

14. Taking Portuguese classes

15. Catching up on Bachelorette/Bachelor Pad/Pretty Little Liars/Baby Daddy while chilling on the hammock

16. Visiting CAASAH, a home for patients with HIV and AIDs. Makes you SO grateful for the health God has given you!

17. Jam sessions....ER' DAY, ER' DAY.....WHAT ANYBODY SAY....YO...WHATUP (Yeah, Drake, that's OUR motto.) We love singing and arranging to The Beatles, Ingrid Michaelson, Don Mclean, and Amos Lee!

18. Girl talks (no. boys. allowed. obvi.) with Hannah and Talia!

Ok, that's it for now! It's hard for me to remember everything I want to say...I have unfortunately not been writing in a daily journal. 

Hope everyone at home is doing well!

Muito love!

Arlene

Week 2 of Brasil: Speed of Light!

Oi!

I cannot believe it is already Week 2...time certainly does fly (like at 3e8 m/s)! 

My affection for the children I work with has grown exponentially since Day 1. Once shy strangers, I now consider them little cousins that I can have a good time with but also discipline when necessary. This is going to sound awful, but I kind of love when they cry, because who do they come running to? ME. I feel so special! And they are so adorably vulnerable at that point. It was hilarious today when this little girl, Pamela, started crying. She is one of the biggest bullies in her class and a boy who is mentally challenged hit her hard. She kind of received the bitter taste of her own medicine. What goes around, comes around. Sorry, I think I'm still mad at her for throwing my hair clip in the garbage just for kicks and giggles. Not cool, Pamela. (I know, her adorable face is deceiving!)

I am really glad that I chose to do the intern program. While the thought of being the first intern in six years was daunting at first, it slowly became more of a welcome challenge. Brazil's culture is highly laid back; so, as an intern, it is my job to initiate projects and suggest valid and worthwhile ideas. I have spent much time solely observing the methods of classroom management and pedagogy, so as to grasp the potential areas for improvement. I have noticed that there is too much free time in my room. I appreciate that the teacher provides ample time for socio-emotional development. At the same time, however, much of that time period is met with immature verbal fights and turning boys and girls into punching bags. I also wish the teacher was more even-keeled in her tone and instruction. Every so often, she will start yelling...and boy, am I scared; I just want to run for the hills! 

(Just a quick tangent: here are the artifacts from the rainbow day!)

After giving myself time to ruminate the possibilities and working with Grace, my intern advisor, every Monday, I have devised several ideas. My first stemmed from my Girl Scout Gold Award Project in high school. I led a two week tutoring camp for inner city children in Paterson, New Jersey. After conferencing with Girl Scout council representatives, I was told to collect artifacts and create a summative guide for future tutors. This way, my contribution would not wither once I was finished. Instead, it would be able to be recycled in different formats by other gals. 

This concept makes me want to create some type of portfolio for future Cross-Cultural Solution volunteers and interns. I thought it would be meaningful to develop simple and direct power point lessons. I would cover some of the topics I have already taught such as colors, numbers, fruits, basic conversation phrases, and the alphabet. In addition, I would introduce animals, body parts, and aspects of a town lifestyle (market, beach, church, laundromat, etc.)--to name a few. My love for graphic design and the fact that I miss layout editing for Oak Knoll's newspaper makes it all the more desirable to execute this idea.

Another idea is to have the children go on a pretend field trip. I admit that I may have borrowed this fabulous notion from my 1st grade teacher. I experienced the awesomeness of Mexico in my school's front yard. I would pretend that we were touring Salvador, but through the eyes of an American. We would visit the beach, the art museum, the Historic Center, the soccer stadium, and other sights. Different stations set up around the room would represent various regions. This plan requires a lot of well...planning. I also want to learn a little bit more of Portuguese to buffer any areas of confusion. 

Lastly, I want to create a book that the children can have as a keepsake. This book would solely have English content. It would be filled with fun illustrations and would be available for reference once I am gone. I want most of the pages to be created by the children (sorry for my passive grammar!).

Today, I had the amazing opportunity to visit a private school on the east side of Salvador. This was an eye-opening experience, because prior to this stop, I was only familiar with the impoverished education system. This school, called Colegio Candido Portinari, was stunning in design and layout. I swear it could have come out of a Disney Channel studio! They have a gym on the top floor and a state-of-the-art auditorium. The classrooms are spacious and complete with comfortable seating in the form of cushion-y desks. The terrace on the top of the building definitely screams wealth! Also, there are snack bars scattered around the building, at the children's full disposal. Students pay about 7, 000 reais (pronounced hay-ayss) per year, which is quite steep in Brazilian terms. 

The discussion I had with the director of the English program from grades 9 through 12 provided insight into the challenges all schools have with implementing solid English programs. The school is currently executing a step-wise plan to elicit a fully sufficient language program. In 2009, there were two short classes per week that taught basic English--according to the director, this translated to "nobody learns English" classes. Now, the director and school are in a transitional phase, jumping on to a more frequent schedule. 5th through 9th graders take English four times a week for 50 minutes. This is officially the 1st phase. The 2nd phase will introduce optional after-school bilingual classes. This will include completing homework and conversing in English. 

The focus of the program is on meaning, rather than pronunciation. In my Early Literacy (two-pronged) courses, I learned about Louise Rosenblatt's theory of efferent and aesthetic reading. She believes that efferent reading is the "mode [that] attempts to identify and collect points of information from the text," while aesthetic reading "appraises the rhetorical techniques and qualitative experience presented in the text" (http://everything2.com/title/efferent+and+aesthetic+reading). Sorry, APA, but I ain't following your whole citation rules right now! #suchanacademicrebel

It seems that the director puts more weight on the end of the see-saw that is efferent. In fact, aesthetic reading is dismissed as students spend little time reading English text directly.

Right now, a typical English class consists of working with texts such as Keys of Learning by Pearson and English in Mind by Cambridge.  This foundation gives way to rich conversations that make up the bulk of class time. The holistic approach incorporates a multi-sensory method, using visual context, listening comprehension, and pronunciation via speaking. Students enjoy exploring American pop culture and history during this time. Right now, students are exploring the Civil Rights Movements. They are studying the juxtaposition of the struggles of African Americans with the real meaning of democracy in Brazil. Rosa Parks plays a central role in this inquiry. In October, students will gather material to write a play about Parks. While this is a prime opportunity for English skills to be practiced, the teacher reminds herself to be strict in her language choice. When discussing important logistics, the teacher falls back on Portuguese.

I know I assured you that I would mention the cultural activities of Salvador, Bahia! I sincerely apologize...I will definitely discuss said topics in my next post!

Tchau! Arlene (Or-lee-na)

Life Of Lola: Chapter 2, 3, and 4 (Part 2, Serial Style)

CHAPTER 2

            Isla stared at the off-white stucco ceiling. It was five in the morning and the dark light—or lack thereof—had sneakily turned into a milky cerulean. Isla was irked. Oliver had walked back into her life without so much as to ask permission or warn her. She knew in her heart that the next weeks would be sticky, to put it nicely.

            As she lay wide-awake, she flashbacked to her youth. Isla recalled her first encounter with Oliver. It was at the local general store. She was picking up tweezers because Kaya, her little sister, had stolen them from her. As her awkward 17-year-old self turned an aisle, she bumped into a man. This man looked at her with his intense eyes. He apologetically whispered, “Forgive me. I just had a major history exam and have had little sleep; I am a bit delirious”. Isla could not believe how beautiful the young college-aged male was. He was a rich mixture of what seemed to be Native American, Greek, and South Asian. Not only was his face picture perfect, but also he seemed like a nice gentleman. His height was lengthy and he had muscles where Isla didn’t think muscles could exist. She smiled weakly at him. She was frustrated that she had the inability to produce a single word. “No worries,” she squeaked. Oliver replied, “I’m Oliver; but my friends call me Olly.” 

            Isla was kind of uninterested when it came to men. Her boyfriend from the end of middle school and the beginning of high school cheated on her with a senior cheerleader. From that point on, she was jaded and developed this spunky and go-getting personality. She was hardened and rarely let anyone in. Yet, she felt like she could let Olly in. This was bizarre, as she only had known him for six minutes. She had never been so attracted to someone like this.

            Olly politely remarked, “I have to be going. I am expected at a friend’s house in town. I am kind of late, which is a bit of an understatement”. Disappointed, Isla said, “Well, it was nice meeting you and I hope you have the opportunity to catch up on some siesta-ing”. Siesta-ing? How silly and young could she sound? Feigning indifference, she let the love of her life slip from her sight.

            Isla was sad. She returned home in her beaten up Ford, only to realize she had forgotten to buy the stupid tweezers. When she walked through the doors, she stared dumbfounded. Chase ran up to her and practically jumped. “Illy, meet my boyfriend, O—or Oliver, I guess. He is the one I was telling you about…the handsome guy who I used to run with! Remember the stud muffin that was my study buddy?” As Oliver turned toward Isla, he gasped. As he contemplated her lean figure and pretty, youthful face, he realized that this was the girl he had flirted with earlier. Uh oh. He finagled himself into playing it cool and responded, “Hi Illy, it’s an honor to meet you”. He felt horrible at the falsity of his statement, as if he had laid eyes on her for the first time.

            From that day onward, it was highly uncomfortable in the Jones household. Olly and Illy would exchange furtive glances at each other at the dinner table, on the tennis court, and at the country club down the road. There was an undeniable attraction between them. Both did not intend to hurt Chase, but it was hard to resist. 

            When news came around that Oliver had proposed to Chase, Isla grew livid. She could not believe his betrayal. All those long walks on the beach and clandestine meetings in the country club conference room meant nothing now. The sparks they had dissipated into thin air—like they had never come into existence. The cautious and mostly flirtatious looks were now looks of hurt and disappointment—mostly on Isla’s end.

            Isla continued to have ill feelings toward Olly. She could not help it. She firmly believed that he was the one man that could salvage her from her past and introduce a more optimistic future filled with love and unbreakable trust.

            Isla turned on her side on her bed. She wished that she had someone to kiss goodnight and someone to wake up in the middle of a nightmare. Instead, she was alone. Ironically, she was not by herself. In technical terms, she could disrupt Oliver’s sleep with scary details of a dream. Wishful thinking, she liked to call it.

CHAPTER 3

            Oliver looked at his mustard wristwatch. He had come into and out of sleep for the entirety of the night, making things quite counter-effective. As he writhed his fatigued body, he thought of Isla. Her face had not changed. She still had those sage eyes and rosy cheeks. Her natural complexion was like porcelain. Maybe Snow White did have some competition after all… Oliver had noticed the change in Isla’s figure; however, he kind of believed that the hefty look suited her and defined her best features. 

            Oliver reminisced about his younger years, or what he sarcastically referred to as the glory days. He remembered the first time he met Isla. She was fresh and different. He smirked as he noticed how nervous she was as she babbled to him at that general store. Later, when he discovered her true persona, he teased her about how smitten she was with him. The funny thing was that nothing really came to fruition in the arena that was Oliver and Isla. Yet, at the same time, it symbolically did happen. There was this strong connection that both of them quietly but conspicuously embraced. It was all the more powerful because it was solely unchecked emotions.

            Oliver felt sick to his stomach thinking how he hurt Isla. To him, Isla was transparent. He recognized the swift change in disposition once Chase started to gloat about her fancy ring finger and the arm candy that would soon be permanent. He could see her melancholy nature and it hurt him to look at her again. He felt dishonest and deceitful. He questioned why he had asked Chase to marry him in the first place. And then he remembered.

As the morning light crept into the small family room, Oliver sat upright. For some reason, he felt like running. All Oliver wanted to do was run from his life, his fragile, meaningless life. He pinched his arm and convinced his pathetic self to grow up and face the fear that was his past. He wondered about what Isla was thinking in the room right above him. If only he knew that she had parallel notions…

CHAPTER 4

 Lola opened her eyes to the early morning. She peeled the sheets off her aqua bed and walked to the bathroom. Washing her face felt cathartic. She peered thoughtfully into the mirror. Everybody in school thought she was gorgeous. Her best friend, Meghana, a fellow adoptee, begged her to try her hand at modeling. She was half Indian, a quarter Irish and a quarter Japanese. She had warm hazel eyes and deep auburn locks of hair. She had a golden tan that stayed with her during the winter. Lola never understood her exotic appeal. 

Lola was not the most outgoing individual. She was not known for her popularity or athletic skills in high school. She was a nerd who excelled in the classroom. This allowed her to keep to herself and hide behind her textbooks. Lola was very quiet about her beauty and would rather hide it than expose herself. She felt especially bashful when boys at her school stared at her, to their jealous cheerleader girlfriends’ dismay.

Once Lola shimmered some peach blush on her cheeks and highlighted her eyes with dark brown eyeliner, she pulled her hair up and tiptoed down the stairs. Hoping to see Oliver, she peeked into the family room. Disappointed, she saw the afghans her grandmother had made folded clumsily. The man from last night was nowhere in sight. Aunt Isla could tell that Lola was frustrated. “Morning, honey. Oliver went for a run around Lake Moore but he will be back after you return. I know you’re anxious, sweetie, but I need you to be patient, ok?” Lola feigned lack of concern and replied, “Yeah. Whatever, see you later Aunt Illy”.

Internally, Lola was so annoyed. She had so many unanswered questions and they would remain in this condition until dusk. On the bus, she blocked out Meghana’s unexciting chatter as she imagined what Oliver’s story was. Maybe he was the twin of her father, but he had been left in the river by accident when he was a baby. No, too Moses-like. Maybe he was the older, more successful offspring who caused envy from other family members. Or maybe he was the son who took all his family’s money. Wait; that is basically the prodigal son. For someone who is agnostic, I am really rocking the whole Bible tale.

Lola breezed through the halls of her school. Once she saw Dev, she ran up to him, practically jumping on him. Dev was an exchange student from Dubai and happened to be living with the world’s most obnoxious jock Mason next door to her house. Dev was amazing. He was witty, had a posh accent, and was down to earth. He was noticeably wealthy, yet never flaunted it. He was humble and sweet, conscientious and thoughtful. Dev and Lola had quickly developed a friendship that could be likened to Dawson and Joey from Dawson’s Creek. Dev had created that analogy as he was consumed by the show ever since he took an elective on American pop culture. Dev was part Indian and part Welsh. As a result, he was deeply beauteous. He had high cheekbones and pretty eyelashes. His smile was adorable.

Lola exclaimed, “Dev, I have so much to tell you!” Dev responded, “Alright, then. Spill, my dear”. Lola took the next fifteen minutes before school officially began to divulge the juice that was the mysterious and unexpected appearance of Oliver. She described his rich eyes and fancy shoes. Dev was intrigued by the sudden burst of excitement in Lola’s life. He was in need for some made-for-TV drama that he could vicariously live through. Then again, he was dealing with a huge secret in the Erikson household. Mason’s father had been sneaking around with Delilah Rogers, the town’s Barbie-doll baker, behind Mrs. Erikson’s back.

As Lola finished up her story that seemed utterly unreal, the bell rang. Class had begun; thus, Lola and Dev peeled off in opposite directions. Lola tried to muster up the strength of mind to survive to day without going crazy. Oliver, I am going to get to the bottom of this. Get ready, set, go!

SUPER BAD.

Oi from Salvador, Bahia!

I have waited ages to finally be inducted into a Brazilian blast that is the Cross-Cultural Solutions intern experience! Now that it has finally arrived, my curiosity has been sensationally satiated. It has only been five days, yet I feel like it has been at least three weeks. The people I am working with are absolutely amazing. We have an eclectic group, geographically, age-wise, and in respects to personality. To give you a glimpse, we have a mom who is obsessed with Bruno Mars, a college soccer player who is fluent in Spanish, French, and Portuguese (jealous!), two Jacks (referred to Jack squared together, and the square root of Jack squared separately.....naturally.), an oboe player, a Russian vodka-drenched watermelon lover, a kid called Polo (who believes in the phrase, "YOLO."), and two massage therapists. Ok, sorry, that was a tad more than a glimpse. But, I cannot express how seamlessly we all fit together. With the risk of coming off as cheesy, it's like we are this giant quilt with some crazy colors and profound patterns. We are best buddies, brothers and sisters, and hopefully friends for the long run. We are already beginning to plan reunions once we all return to the States.

So, I am trying to contemplate the entirety of my experiences so that I can handpick the most prime ones. I think I will start with the location of our home base. I will refrain from disclosing the exact location for a sound safety measure (like any Brazilian homeless dude is reading my blog anyway...). Our base, or as we fondly refer to it as "the fort," is placed in the safe neighborhood of Graca (p.s. I don't think Google blog websites have the option of inserting symbols). The home is simple, yet comfortable. It can be most likened to a nice hostel with common lounges and camp-style dining area....AND A HAMMOCK! We often end up cuddling up on the couches and watching hilarious(ly funny and/or bad) movies like Super Bad, John Tucker Must Die, Vicky Cristina Barcelona, Clockwork Orange (weirdest. movie. ever.), and Easy A. We are probs going to watch Super Bad again since it was super epic. This was my first time watching it, and I have never laughed so much! A huge perk about our home base is that it is dangerously close to an ice cream place. Oh, and I'd be remiss if I did not mention the breathtaking beach scene just a mere five minutes away. It makes for a beautiful landscape to run along and potential picks for paintings!

My work site is absolutely fantastic. It is a heartwarming place where the students are absolutely adorable. 60% of them are mischievous 100% of the time. Unfortunately (and entertainingly), childlike fighting is ubiquitous. At first, I was sad that I could not work with the tiny nuggets on the first floor. However, after reevaluating my career interests, I was content with my placement. So far, teaching and helping 4, 5, and a few 6 year olds has been delightful. When they babble in their squeaky, high-pitched Portuguese accents, I just want to take them home!

Every day, I get the chance to take over the classroom and teach English. My favorite part about this is that I get to apply all that I have learned thus far in my education classes at college. It's funny how I unintentionally utilize the Launch, Engage, and Summarize pedagogical lesson plan format. On the first day, I worked with the children on numbers, spoken in English. After they repeated after me the numbers (which, surprisingly, they already knew), I decided to use the popular children's game, "Duck, Duck, Goose," to practice using numbers. As a variation, I called out a number. The leader would have to tap the number of children that I had requested before choosing a goose. The kids had a good laugh while they gradually caught on to the purpose of the activity. Then, we completed some human math problems. By grouping together members of the class, we formed isolated whole numbers. Then, we amalgamated them to find the total sum. As a closing activity, I tried to teach them "Steal the Bacon". This is one of my all-time favorite games, especially the soccer version! I have to say this was TOO funny. When I called the number 9, every last one of them ran to the pillow in the middle and piled on top of one another. I guess the objective did not come through to them!

Today, I taught them the colors. I wrote them on the board as a launch activity and asked them to indicate the color in the classroom and on their clothing. The way they said pe-ink, waa-ight, and bl-oo was too cute! As the explore activity, we all created a rainbow (or arco-iris). One by one, I asked them to take red, orange, yellow (and so on...) and create an arc. The teacher kindly translated the colors in Portuguese. I have some great photos on my camera that collectively make up some meaningful artifacts. Lastly, to finish off the lesson, I read them a color book; well, I did not exactly read because I am in no way close to perfecting the Portuguese accent, but I did point to colors. This was a great way to summarize the day's learning. I am so pleased with the way the children are absorbing the material. They do not let any poverty or shortcoming get in their way. They will prove to be tenacious individuals as they make their way in the world!

Ok, so my buddies (the two Jack's to be exact) just put in Super Bad. So, I am super distracted and super drawn to the hotness and gorgeousness that is JONAH HILL. And McLOVIN'.

The next blog will have more of an emphasis on my cultural endeavors!

Tchau!
Arlene

Life of Lola: Chapter 1 (Part 1, Serial Style)

Life of Lola

By Arlene Pereira

CHAPTER 1

Her cheek grazed the cold charcoal concrete road. Her wet hair in segregated clumps spread out like a fan. Her blurred eyeliner made her look like a callous geisha who was trying to escape her oppressor.  Lola had been running. She had been running too fast. Inertia was not a friend at this late hour. It was two in the morning and all Lola wanted to do was run from her life, her fragile, meaningless life.

Lola could not imagine how turbulent the last few weeks had been. Everything seemed normal and mundane on that Sunday evening. She was relishing the usual cabernet pork roast that her Aunt Isla was so famous for making. It was raining outside, but it was oddly pleasing. It was just the two of them, like it had been for the last decade. The doorbell rang and Lola’s aunt jumped. “Who would be at our doorstep at this time in the night on a Sunday?” Isla uttered.

Lola excused herself from the kitchen table and reached for the front door. Behind the mahogany barrier stood a tall man. He seemed tired and weak, almost helpless. Lola stared deep into his hazel eyes, which were shockingly similar to hers. He spoke softly, “Hi, Lola. My name is Oliver. I am your uncle from North Dakota. My wife has just died and I have no one left to care for me.” Lola maintained her blank stare. It was like she could look deep into his soul. The quiver in his voice made her dubious; yet, she was intrigued too by this unexpected stranger. Those hazel eyes convinced her that he was indeed her relative. Lola replied, “Please come in.”            `

            Oliver politely removed his jacket and shoes. The shoes were clearly an expensive Italian make. At the same time, it looked like they were worn out. It was as if he walked from North Dakota to Rhode Island. As the shadow dismissed the tall figure, the kitchen light shone brightly, exposing his visage.

            It only took Aunt Isla one glance to know who the damp fellow was. Lola watched as Aunt Isla’s face became purple with disgust. She sternly commanded, “Lola, I need three eggs for tomorrow morning’s breakfast. You need to be well nourished for your history exam. I also need some milk and cinnamon sugar.” Lola took the cue to give the two adults some privacy, and immediately exited the room.

            The tension was palpable. This was understandable as the conversation about to transpire would be volatile, filled to the brim with anger, regret, misunderstanding, and hurt feelings. Oliver walked over to Aunt Isla and gave her an uncomfortable embrace. Aunt Isla proceeded to give him a hard slap on the side of his weary face. Oliver pleaded, “Please forgive me, Illy. You know I did not want my life to turn out this way. I never intended to run away from my complex issues. I am looking for redemption, and most of all lost love. I am completely empty inside. I feel nothing anymore, and that is no way to live this beautiful life”.

Isla’s emotions were brewing inside her, like a witch’s caldron. There was teardrop from ten years ago, a rosary bead still pink with innocence, a locket from her dead sister, and a false promise from her brother-in-law. All these remnants, both intangible and tangible, were broiling together. The amalgamation generated evaporation that impinged Isla’s wounded heart and scorched her soul.

Oliver could see that Isla’s was struggling to say the right words. She had always been a feisty girl, and age had not withered her tenacity. Oliver went closer to her and spoke in a gentle tone, “Listen, Illy. You do not need to forgive me; that is not what I request of you. I only ask that you find it in yourself to accept. Accept the circumstances and redirect your expectations of me. I come to you as a humble man who has much to rue.” Isla looked at Oliver, deep into his eyes. They were still as gorgeous and alluring as they were when they were younger. She caved in and answered, “Ok. You have two weeks to pick up the shattered pieces. You need to tell Lola everything—and don’t you dare hold back because you know that I will reveal everything, with all the gory details of woe.”

Lola stepped into the small home. She peered through the hallway and saw that Oliver was fast asleep on the couch. Oliver looked like he had some American Indian blood in him. He had rough mandarin skin and a defined nose that looked like it had taken a few hits before. His hair was silky black. Lola felt odd examining his countenance while he was asleep, but she could not help the intrigue of this nomad sleeping soundly in her family room.

Lola had the urge to wake him up and solve the mystery of his sudden presence. She wondered why he would show up after so many years. Aunt Isla told Lola little of her family and her past. She gave the reason that her family was irresponsible and incapable of emulating the true values of loved ones. Lola reluctantly accepted this and never asked again. Yet, she was curious everyday of her life. Leaving her foster home at eight was the best experience. Her aunt welcomed her with open arms. Aunt Isla was stunning; however, she was a big lady. She was strong-willed and nurturing, everything that Lola needed. Lola felt at home with her aunt and appreciated her efforts to take care of an orphan.

Despite Isla’s amazing love, Lola was angry with her past, especially her neglectful parents.  She felt unworthy of their invisible love.  She questioned their integrity and sanity. Why would they leave their lovely baby daughter? Lola made a promise to herself that she would discover her past and find the answers that she longed to possess. Lola’s head was spinning as she processed all that was occurring. She decided to let the man rest and to bother him in the morning.

Lola would navigate through loops and pitfalls to discover who she was at the core. She was up to the challenge and would not back down. It just wasn’t in her blood to give up. Or at least she assumed…