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.