Starting to Say Goodbye

Funny how you can get nostalgic about a place before you've even left. With less than three weeks before I fly home, I've already entered into that territory. In no time I'll have graduated and I'll be looking for a fulfilling, challenging and inspiring job (if anyone has any leads, by all means let me know!). I'll have adapted back to the rhythm and flux of Austin, to daily life with my boyfriend, to breakfast tacos and Barton Springs and delicious potlucks with my friends, to driving a car again. And my time here will start to feel like something that happened in a sepia-tinted dream.

Soon I'll be that girl. The one who instead of saying, "This one time at band camp..." will be saying, "This one time in Porto Alegre..." to anyone who will listen. Of course, I've still got a lot between me and my 6 PM flight on May 18. A LOT. Some of which I should be attending to this very moment instead of writing a blog entry. But hey, this is how I always operate, putting off the important stuff. I'm in this time period that my mother described as, "...such a whirlwind and a wanting to stay longer, yet feeling the rich fullness of the time." It's this moment where I want to grab onto everything and make it last, but where I'm also ready for home.

I've been talking to some of the coordinators of the youth groups I've been working with, saying that I hope, hope, hope to find a job working with adolescents back in Texas (fingers crossed!). And then if that's the case, oh the possibilities. With a glint in our eyes we imagine embarking on projects of cross cultural exchange where the kids here can learn about the kids there and vice versa...like wouldn't it be so cool for kids to share pictures with each other about their lives, lived 5,000 miles away from each other?

The connections I've made won't be cut just because I leave the country...it's just the nostalgia I have for the little moments, all the walking around this city, all the waiting at bus stops, all the cafezinhos, daily greetings with doormen, finally knowing exactly where the coconut juice is located in the supermarket, always feeling pressured by the huge clock in front of the hospital, that time a little old lady asked me to help her across the street, how soft the skin of her hand felt against mine. It's a nostalgia for a place and time that can't be revisited because each time I return (and I do want to come back) will be a different experience. The deep colors of the graffiti that I took pictures of will have faded. Likely there will be new graffiti in its place.

And so it goes. 
[Thank you Kurt Vonnegut for that oft-repeated phrase in Slaughterhouse Five which struck me as profound when I first read it at age 13 and has stuck with me ever since].

Adventures of O Cachorrinho

I met O Cachorrinho [the puppy/cute little dog] for the first time in a shopping mall. He was the toy inside my Easter chocolate egg. It was love at first sight. Actually that's a lie. I couldn't figure out how to put the little pup together and had to rely on the expertise of a mathematician. So it took a while for me to see what he actually looked like.  But from our first shared grin, O Cachorrinho and I went everywhere together. He enjoyed traveling in the side pocket of my shoulder bag. Every once in a while I'd take him out so he could check out the view.

Inspired by my friend Finchy's fun photos with her pet piggie, I figured I should start documenting O Cachorrinho's outings, which I've done here.

Poor little guy hasn't gotten to go anywhere exciting (yet!), but regardless he always has a smile on his face.

Day Out at the Museum

Yesterday we all had a fantastic time when we went with the the guris (Portuguese slang for "young people") to a photography exhibit at a museum.

They were hanging outside the room in the morning before the oficina  (translation: "workshop" - essentially the youth groups), some were using up the remaining photographs on their cameras by taking some shots of the view out the window.

Today was the day for them to bring the cameras back so that I could get the photographs developed in time for the next oficina.

We saw photographs by Henri Cartier-Bresson...

...and watched a video talking about the art of his photography...

...and we even added our own art to the art we were seeing :-)

When asked at the end of the oficina about their favorite part, they agreed that it was all fun, that they loved seeing all the photography. And now none of us can wait to see their photography.

Eye of a Goat

I bought these beans at the ecological farmer's market yesterday because I thought they looked pretty.



Would they taste good? I had no idea, but I hoped so. Silly me, totally judging a book by its cute cover.

They're called Olho de Cabra or "Eye of Goat" so that made them seem even more curious to me. I don't recall the last time I looked a goat in the eye, so perhaps someone can enlighten me: are these what goats' eyes look like?



Today I put them in some water and boiled them for an ungodly amount of time.



And the verdict?



They looked a little less appealing (aka cute) when cooked.

But! They tasted just like lima beans, one of my favorite childhood foods. (Is that perhaps a vegetarian version of saying they taste just like chicken?) So of course to complete the tasty meal, I added some other childhood favorites on top: nutritional yeast and soy sauce. Nothing like a good old fashioned vegetarian upbringing (thank you Mom and Pop!) translated to Brazilian food options.

I'll definitely be keeping an eye out for these guys at the next farmer's market.

Take a Deep Breath

Last week, we officially started the photo project with one of the youth groups. We began with everyone talking about their journey from home to the youth group (which is how every group begins). Then I introduced them to a breathing exercise. We played with paper "cameras" and talked about how they affect how we look at the world. We read over "Terms of Responsibility" and they signed agreeing to the terms. We gave the adolescents the cameras, designed possible photos and brainstormed together about ways to take photos that would follow the "Zoom" theme that the group has been working with.

Phew! It was a lot and it was fun. 

Next week, after taking the cameras home with them, they'll be bringing them back for development and we'll be making a field trip to Santander Cultural to check out the FestFotoPoA, the International Festival of Photography in Porto Alegre. Cool, exciting stuff! There's a part of me that's always a bit nervous about projects like this. Really, there's a lot of juggling and timing and hoping it all comes out well while you're looking up at all that stuff you're trying to keep in the air. I can't wait to see how it all turns out. No matter what, I think it will be good. Especially because this photo project is truly a collaborative, group effort. I am in awe of all the fantastic people who are making this happen.

And so, at the end of the youth group, I asked two questions that I like to ask (ever since working at Communities in Schools (CIS) last year that is). I asked the group members to each tell me their favorite part of the group and their least favorite part. I love these questions because the answers are rarely what I expect. Unsurprisingly, it was difficult for them to come up with "least favorite" parts because of that human tendency to want to be polite I'm sure. It takes a while to be able to respond to this question.

But their favorite part, as expected, was unexpected. Almost unanimously, they all agreed that it was that thing we did with our stomach, with shaking our hands. Yup, what they liked best was the breathing exercise.

Before I started the exercise. I talked about how to breath into one's belly because not everyone knows how to do this (and I've finally stopped assuming that they do. Yup, as my dad has told me, when you assume, you make an ass out of u and me. Or, people just don't know what they heck you're talking about when you blather on about this deep breath nonsense).

There's an image I once heard someone using that I really like and subsequently borrowed. (I think I borrowed it from the woman who taught an awesome yoga class to our Hope & Healing group at CIS last year). Basically, it's imagining you're swallowing an elevator, it's going down your throat and descending all the way to your belly. Yup, put your hand on your stomach to feel it expand as the the elevator comes down.  That's inhaling. Now to exhale, imagine your sending that elevator all the way back up.

We did this a few times and they said they'd gotten the gist of it. So we moved on. I co-opted this particular breathing exercise from a role play of a Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) group performed in my Group Therapy class last spring (thank you CBT group!). Everyone plants their feet flat on the floor and sits up straight in their chairs. Then we begin to shake our hands and stomp our feet, increasing the rapidity of the agitation as we go. It looks totally silly, so it helps when everyone else is doing it too. We move faster and faster...and faster...Until I say, "Okay stop." Then we all breathe together, deep inhalations into the belly, deep exhalations, a certain number of times. This time I happened to choose 6. That's it.

There are usually a few seconds of silence that follow this. A pause. It's just enough time to "be" with a slightly stiller, calmer mind...It was nice.

And I totally love that this is what they liked best because all of us (myself very, very included) could use some skills (and frequent reminders) to take a step back and slow down even if just for a minute or two.

Next week we'll do some more breathing, since I'm thinking they'll be up for it, and hmmmm...perhaps I'll be able to throw a yoga posture into the mix too...

Cipote is 1/3 Cat

Last night I sat at my computer typing an email. Cipote approached and looking up at me with puppy dog eyes. I motioned for him to jump onto my lap. He geared up and landed with aplomb. Usually he likes to sit with his back to me, staring out at the world around us or reading what I'm typing. Barking at at the bats living in the non-functioning air conditioner (story about bats to come one of these days!).

This time though he couldn't get comfortable. Or perhaps, I wasn't reacting the way he wanted? He kept putting his front paws onto my shoulder and trying to climb up my torso as if I were a ladder. Initially I felt confused, but then I thought, "Does he want me to hold him? Is that it?"

And so I picked him up and held him in my arms. This made further typing impossible. So I walked with this little dog-cat-baby in my arms into the living room to sit down on the couch. Oh, Cipote. He stayed in my arms, fluttering his eyes, occasionally snoring a little, for the next 30 minutes, until A. scooped him up when she went to bed. I love this creature!

Being Here

Right now, in this moment, I feel over-tired, over-caffeinated and very content.

Life has been this wonderful whirlwind lately where I have been happy to go along for the ride (and not just bus rides). In a way it feels like a humble surrender to the flow and to the unknown. Except that the unknown doesn't make me quite as nervous anymore. In other ways it feels that all the effort I have been putting in since my arrival over three months ago has been so very, very worth it. All of my time here has been good in its own ways, but it hasn't always been easy either. I can't say it's "easy" now, but I can say that it's awesome.

So many stories deserve their own blog post but life is speeding up and I am busier than ever. Instead, I'll try to share some pieces and some moments of the last week.

One of my favorite moments during my professor's visit was during the free time we had between meetings. We ate a healthy lunch, hopped a bus downtown and meandered in the general direction of our next meeting. In a cute little plaza, a shoe shine man offered his services. Now, I don't wear the kind of shoes that require shining (perhaps I should?), but my professor does. We had time to spare still, so we shrugged our shoulders and said, "Why not?" As my prof says, it's in these interactions with folks where there is all this time to talk that you can learn so much. This man had been shining shoes in this plaza for over 20 years. He had lots to share and lots of questions about the US of A too. And he left my prof's shoes nice and shiny.

And here is a photo of the most delicious, rich grape juice I think I've ever tasted. Yummy! I'm salivating just recalling it. A Friday afternoon and the manager of where I intern whisked me away to see another social service center in the southern part of the city. It had such a relaxed vibe that I felt like I was on vacation.

And the street art knocked my socks off. Oh yeah, it did. Or it would have had I been wearing socks.

 

And then I'm back at the center and I hear the sounds of capoeira. They're practicing rhythm and singing today, not martial arts. They make room for me in the circle and I join in for the next hour, clapping until my hands are practically numb. There's a lovely breeze wafting around us as we stand and sing in the shade of ancient trees. Young children, teenagers and young adults. Where else would a person want to be on a Friday afternoon?

That evening, as the sun set over the rooftops, I ended up with my colleague trying "Active" meditation for the first time in a center. In Portuguese. 1/4 vibrating, 1/4 free-form dancing, 1/4 sitting on a cushion in a traditional meditation, 1/4 lying savasana-style on a mat. Fifteen minutes earlier I had no idea I was going to do this and the spontaneity made it the perfect experience.

The next morning, I went with the flow and let a hairdresser totally cut the heck out of my hair. I'd seen myself in photos, my hair pulled back and I thought, "My God, I look far too serious. I don't feel that way so why am I presenting myself that way." So when he showed me a photo and said, "How about something like this?" I said, "Sure." And I didn't even flinch that much seeing half my hair on the floor being swept away.

Oh right. And then there was the meeting I had that afternoon. At a museum downtown about possibly getting to show the kids' photos from the project we're doing with them. I am working with two different youth groups on this project. With one of them, I am collaborating with the awesome T. and this was all his idea (and a fabulous one at that). I thought that the both of us were going to meet with one of the coordinators at the museum for a little chat. We get in there and find ourselves in a room outfitted like a lecture hall. "So," says T., "You'll just have to speak for a few minutes."

"I what?" I say.

"Just about your experience last year when you did a photo project in Texas. This is a class they're giving and the director would just like you to share a little before the photographer gives her talk...I didn't tell you this?"

So, I have a good laugh about that one, looking at T., raising my eyebrow at him and then just cracking up. And not long later find myself with a microphone in front of a room of 30+ educators and artists saying, "Well, this is definitely the first time I've talked in a language that is not my own in front of so many people."(And yes, there's a wall in the basement next to the cinema where we're going to get to show our kids' photos!!!)

And then there was Sunday when I got on a bus and rode it to the end of the line. I was going to meet with Nati, one of the fantastic coordinators of the other youth program. We were going to plan out the project together and because she just had one of her wisdom teeth removed, I offered to make the hour-long trip out to her. I stared out the window the whole time. The mother in front of me drank a beer, gave her young daughter a banana and chatted with the friendly bus clerk. We drove past Inter fans arriving at the stadium for a game. Past houses and beaches and green trees and arrived in another part of the south of the city with a pervasive air of tranquility. And we drove more. And more. I was entranced and loving the scenery of the world rushing past me out the window.
 
Finally the bus driver advised me it was the end of the line. The clerk who collected my money got off with me and accompanied me to a nearby bar to ask where the street was where Nati lives and pointed me in the right direction.

Later Nati said that she'd gotten the text I'd sent when I got on the bus. She said she started imaging how the trip must be for me, going to some place that I had never been before, how the feeling must have been so nice of moving through a mostly new environment and just going with it.

"Yes," I said, "You're right on. It was exactly like that." And not only did I have that lovely bus ride, but then I got to enjoy an afternoon in a cute red house with sweet people and delicious food. I rode home through the darkness later that night with a happy stomach and a smile on my face.

The Tapered Effect

Dear Mom,

I thought you would be interested to see the effect that Brazil has had on your daughter.

I bet you never expected this!

After all these years, seeing your daughter wearing tapered jeans for the first time in her life. And not just tapered, but not blue either. Of course they're not that tapered in the grand scheme of things, but you know your daughter. Wearing pants like these is practically revolutionary for her. Can you imagine? No, she's not being forced to wear them. And they're not borrowed from someone else after spilling something on clothes she was originally wearing.

It's simply that she was in a store not so long ago and a sales guy convinced her to try them on because they were on sale. She laughed at him and said, "I don't wear pants like that." He raised his eyebrows and said, "Why?" so she humored him. Besides they were better than some of the other options, such as harem jeans, which she doubts will ever, ever look good on her, especially because she will feel as though she is wearing an over-sized diaper.

And then she thought upon trying them on, "These don't look so bad..I do need new pants..."

She actually bought them, if you can believe it. Of course, the whole time she was thinking, "What has shifted in my brain that has caused me to actually like these pants...Is something wrong with me?" So Mom, what do you think your daughter, age 10, would have to say to her 28-year-old self? I mean you know what it was like in the 80s and 90s to even find pants that weren't tapered. Yet, your daughter held her ground. She steadfastly refused to wear clothes that she didn't like, such as shirts that would have to be tucked in and of course, pants that weren't bootcut. I hoped she wouldn't be too disappointed to learn that her future self, under some sort of spell in Brazil, threw all that steadfastness away and -- paying money for it -- walked over to the dark side of tapered pants.

Sincerely,
Libélula Azul

Sometimes the Bus Whispers Love Poems in My Ear

Dear Municipal Bus of Porto Alegre,

I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate that you always have poems on your windows. Not all the windows of course. You still leave ample room to see the landscape whooshing past. But, I like that you give me just a little something to read while I'm hanging on through all your funky twists and turns and jerky braking, waiting for my stop to come. And not just one poem repeated, but dozens of different ones.

Book are expensive here. In all sincerity, my beloved Portuguese translation of Twilight (Crepúsculo) cost me about $22 US dollars, if not more. So, it makes me all the more enthusiastic about the free bus poetry that you provide us passengers.

This one, "Passenger Love" by Alcir Nicolau Pereira roughly translates to:

The bus braked at the stop
And she came on board
She stayed close by sitting
And won over my heart

Lovely and beautiful passenger
Talented young woman with a pretty complexion
I tried out gallant prose
Leaving her serious, very distressed

Startled and very nervous
She warned: please, do not persist
Speaking softly and timidly:
My husband is the bus driver

So thanks again Bus, and I look forward to the next poem.

Sincerely,
Libélula Azul

P.S. Perhaps you can throw in a poem about vampires or werewolves to satisfy my high literary taste??

Street Sleeping

On the Street
Originally uploaded by Blue Dragonfly Girl

A common sight on the streets of Porto Alegre is sleeping men and women who appear to be homeless. Sometimes they stretch out with nothing between their bodies and the pavement. Other times they have cardboard. Often though, they lay on mattresses. I'm curious where they find these mattresses. And, I find myself wondering if this complicates movement from one place to another. Once I saw a mattress stuffed in a tree, perhaps waiting for its owner to return. I imagine it must require effort to maintain possession of one's bed. Passersby (myself included) just walk around the people on the ground, more often than not, barely noticing them or pretending not too. They are usually sleeping and so there is no eye contact. It seems accepted that they use this public space like this - I haven't seen anyone asking these people without a roof over their head to move along.

Visiting

My faculty liaison (professor responsible for helping me set up my internship here) from the University of Texas at Austin has been visiting this week. And so, the days have been full:

Meetings with the wonderful people who have been facilitating my internship (that's Vera, one of my fantastic supervisors to the right of me). And isn't my posture good?! That's how I react when there's a photographer there I guess...

And showing my professor some of the things I get to do every week. Such as hang out in youth groups with awesome teenagers. The young woman who is looking back in the photo is Nati, one of the fabulous coordinators. (I'd love to show photos of the adolescents that actually include their faces, but I'm not allowed to do so by law...hence all the backs).

And of course time for meeting (and re-meeting) friends.

So, all this to say that there will be longer, more in-depth blog posts to come once I catch up on sleep!

Etiquette in the Bathroom

I had been at my internship for a few days. At some point I absentmindedly read the sign located on the door to the bathroom stall. It asked me to kindly throw my toilet paper in the trash can. "Ah ha!" I realized, suddenly able to visualize all the little trash cans I'd seen next to toilets since I'd arrived in Brazil. All full of toilet paper. Yup, used toilet paper. The plumbing system did seem to have a hard time flushing the stuff down the toilet, that was for sure. "Oh my!" I realized, "I'm the person this sign is intended for. I'm the one lacking manners."

After this flash of enlightenment it took me quite some time to train myself to do this instinctively. You spend a lifetime throwing toilet paper in the toilet bowl and it's hard to change old habits. But, now? Now, I'm a pro. If that's something to be proud of, I guess. Of course in about five weeks time, when I return to the US, I'll have to retrain myself not to do this any longer. For the meantime however, I'll mind my manners and pay better attention to what the bathroom signs ask of me:

- Don't urinate on the floor

- Throw toilet paper in the trash can

- After using, flush the toilet

KEEP THE BATHROOM CLEAN

Sweet, I think I can handle all that! I'm so totally Miss Manners now, at least when it comes to bathroom usage.

A Post for D.

My brother's girlfriend D. is a pretty awesome. She's sharply witty, a fantastic cook, hates to wear the color black, finds conversations about bath products just as interesting as I do and has no compunction about making fun of me. Needless to say, we get to laugh a lot together. What could be better than that? I love her even though she doesn't agree that Northern Exposure is one of the greatest shows ever. If I can overlook that, then she must be cool, right?

And so, a few minutes ago, while chatting on Skype, my brother and D. informed me that my blog posts are waaaaaaaaay too long.

So, this blog post is for you D.

Conferencing about Mental Health

So, a woman came up to stand behind me in line. We were waiting to sign in for the third day of a municipal conference on mental health here in Porto Alegre.

"Oh!" she said, "The conference hasn't started yet!? I thought I was running so late. I was really worried."

"No," I said, "They said it was starting at 8 this morning, so I figured showing up at 9 would be fine."

"This conference! These people! They're so disorganized!" she said a bit huffily, "I can't believe it."

I laughed.

Yes, the conference had been disorganized. The location was announced at the last minute. Only a percentage of attendees could actually fit in the room. People were upset. Tensions ran high. I thought my head might explode. I think it was/is the general frustration of the mental health crowd who finds itself without the resources and support to do the work it needs to do in the manner it feels best. It seems that logistical issues with conference were just too symbolic of disregard and disrespect for people not to get annoyed.

You can see from this picture that people are looking pretty darn serious (even today), but they're there on a Saturday morning -- when a majority of them have worked all week long -- because they want to improve the arena of mental health.

Today -- in a new space that fit everyone -- I realized how impressed I was by the experience. Of course there was everybody's resilience and ability to keep on powering-through despite the obstacles. There was that. But there was also this strong democratic spirit, where everyone got a voice and everyone was truly participating in the writing of a report of proposals to be accomplished in the field of mental health in the city. This is the kind of democracy I don't think we have enough of - though I can see why too - it's arduous and time-consuming and sometimes you wish some people would just stop raising their hand with something more to say. Seriously, we even voted about whether or not to take a 30 minute lunch break or keep on soldiering on (Verdict: no break). I'd heard a bit about Porto Alegre's participatory budgeting before I came here and it's neat to see that this model of engagement is utilized beyond budgeting.

Yesterday, I had coffee with some psychology students attending the conference. "This is what all the conferences here are like," one of them said, "It's always the same style of conference. It's always the same thing happening and the same people talking. And nothing ever changes. I'm a pessimist about it, I don't see it changing."

"I do!" said the other student, "I have hope. Things will get better."

And so, we'll see. One pessimist. One optimist.

This was the first municipal conference in the city in almost a decade. Fingers crossed that the recommendations produced over the past three days will make a difference. At least there are many good, concerned, passionate people behind them.

Appreciation

This photograph makes me happy.

The afternoon may have begun with a little chaos and confusion, but that's all to be expected, especially with a group of energetic teenagers. What really amazed me was not only that things calmed down, but how engaged everyone became in what they were doing. Some were working on the project we'd given them, writing and illustrating the life trajectory of a child (in this case, they named him Douglas) who started using drugs. Some were doing their own thing. But, really, I think that just being able to attain such concentration and focus is what matters.

Street Corner Offerings

I like to take photographs of random things that I come across when I'm out walking. Indeed this includes dead animals and abandoned food. That's just how I roll. Often it produces interesting pictures and perplexed stares from the people around me. Sometimes, it seems, I learn something too.

For example, the other morning I had just gotten off the bus and was walking to the courthouse for some proceedings involving some juveniles. I'm crossing the street and I spy what looks like spilled food in the road. My reaction? Duh. Pull out my camera.

I snap a quick shot, traipse across the street, and then get stopped in my tracks again. More food. I snap another picture. Of course.

 

Then I notice the white candles, slightly burnt by the side of the food. Then I notice the colored paper. Then, I'm thinking, huh, this isn't just someone who didn't like the food they were eating. I bet this is actually a food offering to an Orixá.

Orixás are incarnations of deities who belong originally to the Yoruba religion.  When Africans were originally brought to Brazil as slaves, they brought their religion with them, sometimes representing their Orixás as Catholic saints so that they could practice without persecution. Candomble and Umbanda are some of the religions active today in Brazil (and many other countries) that worship Orixás. The presence of these religions is not as obvious here in southern Brazil as it is if you go further north.

So I was curious who might be the intended recipient of these food offerings. I went online (I love you, internet!) and did a little searching.

I found out that:

No. 1 There's a good likelihood that whoever left these offerings was practicing neither Candomble or Umbanda as I'd assumed, but actually practicing Batuque. I hadn't actually heard of this Afro-Brasilian religion until today, but from what I'm reading, it was founded in the state of Rio Grande do Sul (where I'm living right now) in the 1800s with influence from Nigeria and Guinea.

No. 2 It's likely that intended Orixá was Bará. He's at the top of the Orixá hierarchy and apparently offerings must be made to him before any other Orixá. But, my reasoning is more specific than that. Apparently, offerings should include popcorn, roasted corn, 7 roasted English potatoes and palm oil. His color is red. So, looking at what was left of the offerings, I think this is a good possibility, especially since he's associated with crossroads and that was where the offering was left. Of course, if I'm way off track, please let me know!

Here's a little bit more about Bará translated from this webpage:

"Principle Orixá of movement and connection. The messenger of the Orixás. 
Bará can be the most benevolent of the Orixás if he is treated with consideration and generosity. 
Identified as the devil by peculiar characteristics of behavior such as:
irreverence, superiority, arrogance, cunning. He is the owner of the keys to doors, crossroads, and paths. His greetings, obligations, and cuts, should always be done first."

It's interesting too - and I'm sure not coincidental that these crossroads also happened to be by one of the courthouses.

I'll leave you with some images that I found of Bará.

Apparently, he's also known as Exu...and carries around quite the scepter...

Crazed Enthusiasm with Rubber Chicken

Crazed Enthusiasm with Rubber Chicken
Originally uploaded by Blue Dragonfly Girl

I can't get enough of Cipote, as my multiple blog posts about this creature attest. Indeed, in the words of a friend on flickr, he is full of crazed enthusiasm.

Here he's looking at me and saying, "Play with me! C'mon, try and grab this chicken from me. It'll be fun! C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! You don't have to worry. It'll be safe! And fun!"

Of course, if you do try to grab that chicken, he will growl and try to bite your hand. But, he will do so with a huge smile on his face. And if he starts to play too rough, he'll usually realize it pretty quickly and apologize by trying to lick your toes.

Love at a Payphone

"I'm going to have to write a post about you answering the phone when we were on the way to the park," I said to A. last night, "I love that you are the type of person who can't pass by a ringing payphone without answering it."

"Well yeah," said A., "You never know who it's going to be. And he was a nice guy."

"Exactly!" I said, "It's like the beginning of a movie, I think."

"Not a romantic one!" said A., "He said that he was of a 'certain age' which certainly means he was old."

"No, no, it doesn't have to be like that," I said. "Let's see, it starts like it actually happened, but I think we'll cut me out of it. You're out for a stroll with Cipote. On your way to the park you pass a turquoise Oi payphone. And the phone is ringing. Immediately without thinking twice you answer it saying, 'Alo?'"

"It's the man on the other end, The Man of a Certain Age," says A., "And he's asking if I had just called him, was I responding to the personal ad he'd placed? 'Oh no!' I tell him, it wasn't me. It couldn't have been me since I have a boyfriend...but maybe it was my friend, I know she's interested in something like that."

"Right!" I say, "And then instead of it ending with you politely wishing him good luck, hanging up the phone and going to the park with Cipote to watch kids playing in the fountain --"

"Ok," says A. "We'll forget about how joyful the children were when they were playing with abandon in the fountain." 

"So, instead of that tranquil ending, you hear how much loneliness is in the voice of The Man of a Certain Age. And since you're the type of generous person that will accompany strangers to the pronto socorro emergency hospital, you agree to meet this man. And a beautiful friendship blooms between the two of you. Now you want to find him a partner...so you're setting him up on all these dates with your single friends...But, unfortunately something goes wrong on each of these dates. Something funny of course, since this is a comedy....But you're at the end of your rope and you don't know what to do for this poor Man of a Certain Age. You're out walking Cipote again one afternoon and all of a sudden a Woman of a Certain Age starts telling you how much she loves your dog!"

"The woman who we really did talk to right before I picked up the payphone!" says A. laughing. "She was so funny. Do you remember how she said that at her age she wasn't jealous of anyone except people with dogs for pets. She told us that she had been married for 50 something years and made us guess how old she was. She was 80, right?"

"Something around there."

"She looked great for her age! And her husband who wouldn't let her have a pet. And she, for love, decided it was better to keep the peace than fight for one. But she told her husband, 'The day after you die, you know there'll be a dog living in this house!'"

"And so...in this movie, you run into this woman again. You've been trying to set The Man of a Certain Age up with eligible women for months with all these wacky mishaps and nothing's working out. And this woman is now out walking her own little dog and she compliments yours. You realize in a flash that her husband has died. She confirms this and says that she's been a widow for many months now. She always thought a dog would help her fill the void, but it hasn't. She feels lonely still. And looking at her you realize that she is the The Woman of a Certain Age who would be perfect for The Man of a Certain Age, who conveniently happens to adore pets. You set them up. It's love at first sight! The movie ends with you walking down the street leaving the two lovebirds and their pets to fall in love. You're walking down the street with Cipote and the same payphone rings again. You look at it and raise your eyebrows. We're left wondering if you will answer the phone again...The end."

"Oh my gosh Alison," says A., "I think you're really tired. You better go to bed."

Donations Gratefully Accepted!

NOTE: Since writing this blog entry, I have received enough donations to reach my goal (and indeed go a bit beyond it). My thanks to all of you for your support!

Dear readers of this blog, friends, family, colleagues, professors, classmates and all-around wonderful people,

While interning at Communities in Schools at Travis High School in Austin, Texas last year, I had the idea for a photo project with the students. With your support, we were able to pull it off! (If anyone would like to see a copy of the report on this, please email me at: lostinthequotidian@gmail.com).

This spring, as an intern at a social services agency in Porto Alegre, Brazil, I am excited to be embarking on a second project and I am writing to ask for your support.

I am collaborating with two youth programs run by energetic and enthusiastic people. We love the idea of promoting self-expression and enhancing self-esteem through photography with these creative, smart and passionate youth. An example of their creativity can be seen here in a mural they produced: 

One program, ProJovem [ProYouth] is intended for youth whose families have monthly incomes below $80 American (R$140 Brazilian reais) and/or who are in conflict with the law. We presented the group with several options for the project’s theme, including self-portraits and graffiti. They chose “Drugs: Impact on our lives” because, in their words, they live with the reality of drugs on a daily basis. They brainstormed titles for the project including, “Be happy without crack” and “Crack: the destruction of dreams.” 

The second program, Programa de Prestação de Serviços à Comunidade da Universidade de Rio Grande do Sul [Program of Community Service of the University of Rio Grande do Sul] is for youth in conflict with the law who are ordered to complete community service. Operating out of the education department, this program sets youth up with places to perform community service and also facilitates a youth group for them. We’ll begin the discussion with them about the theme for their photography project soon.

In the end, we hope to bring both programs together by inviting their family and friends to view their work at a final show.

Due to a generous donation of 25 one-time use cameras from the SNAP Foundation, we have a strong start. However, we also need to raise money to pay for the development of film, printing of photographs and enlargement of some of the photographs for the final show, as well as other costs (customs fees for the cameras which we're trying to get lowered, materials hanging the photos for the show).

There is heartwarming support for this project at the social service agency and the programs (both directly and indirectly involved) are assisting as they are able financially, but budgets are limited.  My colleagues are creative and know how to achieve a lot with a little. However, the more resources we are able to raise, the higher the quality the final show will be able to attain. It’s a question, for example, of printing 8x10 photographs on photography paper or printing the pictures using a color printer and regular paper.

Therefore, I am writing you to ask for any donation you might be able to give. For example, $3 will pay for enlarging one photo for the final show. $10 will pay for the printing and developing of one camera. You can rest assured that we will be shopping around as well as further negotiating these prices with the photography store that we decide to use, but these numbers are based on quotes from stores that I spoke to yesterday. I have set up a Pay Pal account for facilitation of donations, which you can reach by clicking on the "Donate" button on the right side of this page. [This button has since been removed because, wonderfully, I have reached my donation goal].

Although I did not anticipate it last year, one of my favorite parts of the experience was the final show. The students got to bask in the admiration of their friends, family and community for their creativity, efforts and visual/written expressions. They were glowing. Their pride in their work was beautiful.

I love how photography gives a person a way to capture their vision of what they see and to share that vision with others. I am honored (and excited) to be able to see the images of the world that will be produced by the awesome youth participating in this project.

The project ends in mid-May, a week before I return to Austin, Texas to graduate. Soon after, I will send out a report, complete with pictures, of course, to anyone who is interested.

Thank you for your support and please don't hesitate to email me with questions!

Abraços (hugs) & gratitude from Brazil,

Libélula Azul

Even the Mall Gets It

I can't say the mall -- or as they call it here, shopping -- is my favorite place to eat. However, when I was at Bourbon Country Shopping last night, I couldn't get over certain details. Namely that our pizza was served to us on real plates....with real cutlery, including knives sharp enough to actually cut the pizza. Talk about sustainable! Yes, yes, they did give us plastic cups for our plastic bottle of water, but c'mon, this is definitely impressive. I wish malls in the US would be so inspired. My guess is that malls here don't even think twice about this, that this is just how things are done and that labor is affordable enough (i.e. someone's gotta wash all these plates later) to sustain this sustainability.

Daily Constitutional

Almost every weekday morning I walk fifteen minutes down a long street to catch the buses I need to get where I'm going. Most afternoons I get off at that same stop and walk the same route home.

I'm can be the kind of person who needs to change my routine frequently. When I was a gardener in charge of the maintenance of various houses, I'd frequently have to switch up the order in which I watered all their plants, just so I wouldn't go out of my mind with the sameness of my trajectory.

And so, it's funny to realize, that after months now, I still am happy walking up and down the same street. I could certainly vary it up and take other routes to get to the bus stop. At times I change my path in little ways, but nothing significant.

It just seems that every day there's some new detail to observe. And when I take pictures they help me to remember and continue appreciating the old details at the same time.