Apaixonando com Brasil

The problem with not writing in your blog for three weeks is that when you finally do, there are so many things you've neglected to say that completing a single, jam-packed entry is such a task that it drags the blogging process out to nearly a month. This is my semi-excuse. But I'll stop complaining now and just suck it up and write, because there are a lot of really fascinating updates in my little Brazilian life that are well worth mentioning.

A few days after my Paraty camping adventure, it began to rain in Rio. No big deal considering it's kind of the tropics. No big deal until the amount of rain projected to fall in Rio throughout the entire month of April descends within a period of about twelve hours. No big deal until whole communities (almost exclusively favelas) are practically destroyed by mudslides and thousands of families have to evacuate their homes. No big deal until over a hundred people within the state of Rio de Janeiro are killed, most of them living in areas too poor and too shabbily built to sustain "natural" disasters. The whole city was kind of a wreck for almost a week; everyone was warned to stay indoors as much as possible and not to drive, even the biggest stores were closed, and school was canceled for four days. Fortunately for me, the area where I live was basically completely unaffected, but the entire time I was lazing about indoors, all I could think about was how many lives had been interrupted and even destroyed a few miles away. The whole disaster really exposed the economic disparities in Rio to an extent I hadn't seen before. So many of the problems caused for people throughout Rio could have been avoided if Brazil's poorest had been living in better-situated, more high-quality, sustainable housing, but the illegal housing in favelas so dangerously placed along the mountains are all that is affordable for a huge proportion of the population.

On a more upbeat note, last weekend my friends and I ventured out to São Paulo by bus and had an incredible time. Not to be discouraged by our previous attempts in Salvador, we ended up couchsurfing with a wonderful man named Felippe who completely redefined good ol' Brazilian hospitality. First off, his apartment used to be a hotel, which kind of gives you an idea of its luxuriosness - pool, sauna, private movie theater, gym, beautiful, wealthy neighborhood... by far better than any hostel we could have found, and free. Did I mention the built-in tour guide? Everything we did in São Paulo flowed so smoothly, especially after having gotten used to the slow, dysfunctional nature of most things in Rio. We lived a completely different lifestyle, if only for a few days- apart from Felippe's generosity, we took cabs, took advantage of São Paulo's incredibly diverse (particularly in comparison to Rio) culinary palate by treating ourselves to fine dining we could never afford in daily life, and generally just lived the good life. As much as I loved São Paulo, though, I would never choose to live there over Rio - it was gray, the smog was so thick you could feel it in your throat, the traffic was the worst I've ever seen, and there's just no comparison to Rio's beauty and charm.

Speaking of "I love Rio" moments, I had a big one yesterday when I made the long and treacherous hike up to Pedra da Gavea, a huge rock that extends 842 meters above sea level. The hike itself was only a little less than two and a half hours on the way up, but it was by far the toughest hike I've ever done - the constant steep upward incline, in combination with the stretch of rock that had to be completely free-scaled, made for one very worn-out Eshtephanie by the time we reached the top just at sunset, but let me just say (and I know I say this all the time when talking about Brazil): the view from the top was the most beautiful thing I've seen. Each part of the rock had a different incredible look out at the city, and by the time my pink, thirsty, sweaty, tired self had sat down to simply stare, I was overwhelmed with love for Rio in a way I've never been before. I know I haven't traveled as much as I'd like to or seen all of the wonderful places the world has to offer, but as of now I think that Rio is the most stunning city on Earth. Our large group camped on top of the huge rock, sitting and talking and eating but never turning away from the view. We descended early this morning, excited to take a shower and eat something (anything) other than cheese sandwiches and cookies, but already nostalgic for such an incredible glimpse of Rio. As much as I kind of wanted to die the entire way up, the experience of climbing Pedra da Gavea was really an important one for me and I highly recommend anyone who has the chance (and physical capability) to climb it to do so.

(A Pedra da Gavea in all her glory)


(A view of Rio at nightfall from the top of Pedra da Gavea)

As always, I've got some travels in the works, this time to Argentina, Buenos Aires and Mendoza to be exact. I leave for Buenos Aires in exactly a week and will be taking an unappealing 13-hour bus ride to and from Mendoza back to Buenos Aires, which will total nine days in this glorious country that I have been so looking forward to visiting since I got here. That's it for now, I think - beijos e feliz Dia de São Jorge!

Ensinando em Vidigal

Oi gente, today I will be speaking about a very new experience in the life of Eshtephanie Kasten: ensinando ingles. Let me begin by saying that teaching feels more than a little strange in a country in which I have become accustomed to being the perpetual student. Aside from a year or so of extremely casual volunteer tutoring in high school, a summer of giving piano lessons in middle school, and several years of sadistic games of “school” with my dear little sister when we were just tots, I have no real teaching experience whatsoever. The program I’m working with gives us very little structure – no required curriculum, no lesson plans, no tests or means of otherwise marking progress.

The school, Stela Maris, sits at the very bottom of the favela, but even from such a low spot on the Dois Irmãos, the two mountains on which Vidigal and Rocinha (another favela, the biggest in South America), the views are some of the best I’ve seen in Rio, and that’s saying something. Stela Maris is really a nice school, and much bigger than I was expecting; four floors of classrooms, a basketball court, and lots of hyper kids with High School Musical backpacks running around in every which way.


(That's a very zoomed-out view of Vidigal behind the Sheraton, a super-chic luxury hotel on the beach)

My class technically has seven students enrolled, but only five seem to show up – four chatty girls and one lonely boy. All have already taken four years of English in school, but they are all at extremely different levels; one girl understands literally every word we say in English and basically functions as a teacher’s aid, while two of them are perpetually giving me blank stares and refuse to say anything in English ever. All the girls are huge fans of Twilight, but one, the most hyper of all, takes it a little too far and has so far gotten in two semi-physical fights over disagreements about the plots of the second and third books. In general, they would rather talk about “Hobertchee Pattinson” than describe their family members’ physical appearances or learn the present progressive, but what 13-year-old girl wouldn’t? Meanwhile, the lone boy looks out the window, makes occasional noises of disgust, and turns around once or twice to ask me for my phone number and email address. As sincere and enthusiastic as they are, it is basically impossible for Maria and me to hold our students’ attention without talking about Rihanna or Justin Bieber or Beyoncé. One day I brought chocolate, which I realize was kind of a cheap shot, but it didn’t even really work anyway.

Despite its difficulties, I am really enjoying this new adventure. The kids are all really sweet, and I think that they really do want to learn English even if they sometimes act too cool for it. Plus, I just get a huge kick out of being called “Professora Eshtephanie.”

In other news, I moved out! As much as I enjoy Dora as a person, her place was getting to be too much for me – it was tiny, which wouldn’t normally be an issue, but Dora is without a doubt the biggest packrat I’ve ever encountered. There was stuff everywhere, not to mention a huge amount of dirt, dust, and little tiny bugs that every so often would completely take over the kitchen. The fan in my room there broke about a month ago, and as much as I adore the feeling of entering the house and immediately soaking through my clothes in sweat, it was starting to get old. On top of that, my “Brazilian breakfast” had slowly been wittled down to two pieces of bread.

So how did I find myself in this gorgeous apartment that takes up the entire floor of its building with functioning air conditioning, my own spacious, CLEAN room, living with two of my closest friends here in Rio, oh, and paying R$150 less per month? My friends Grace and Theresa were placed in the same homestay in Copacabana with a woman named Lucia who rents out all four of her bedrooms, including her own (she sleeps on the couch). When they moved in, two German girls were occupying the other two rooms, but one moved out in March, leaving a vacancy in the home of Senhora Lucia, so here I am. The bad news is that I will probably have to move again after this month as Lucia already has another renter lined up for May, but maybe I can use my undeniable charms to convince her to let me to stay. Maybe. Copacabana is also significantly further from PUC, with means that I won’t be able to walk to school anymore unless I have a free hour and a half to spend trekking, but I so far I much prefer the area to my previous ‘hood, Leblon. Copacabana is said to be more dangerous, but I find it so much more interesting and heterogeneous than chic-chic Leblon. Time will tell if my feelings toward my new home change, but for now I am extremely happy.

One more thing before I set out to conquer my 200+ pages of reading in Portuguese: this Sunday is Easter, and for all of us non-Catholic studiers abroad, that means one thing: a long weekend for traveling! Not to be sacreligious or anything. Tomorrow I shall set off for camping in Paraty, a Portuguese colonial and Brazilian imperial town/vacation spot despite the fact that it’s supposed to rain for the next four days. An Ilha Grande repeat? One can only hope.