Saying Goodbye

I've held off on saying goodbye to this blog for a long time now. I guess I wanted to end with something deep and profound and well...here I am some months later, integrated back into my life in the United States and marveling at the memories of people in a place that I was privileged enough to experience this year.

And so as a goodbye, here is a link to the site I put together of the photography and writing of the youth I worked with in Porto Alegre, Brazil. Please, please leave them comments and thoughts on their work. I'll be sure to translate your words into Portuguese too, hoping that not too much gets lost in translation:

FOTO YOUTH

As for where I am now, I'm feeling the urge to start blogging again about life and times in Austin, Texas. In the moments, when I'm able to translate that urge into actual blog posts, you'll be able to find them here:

LOST IN THE TEXAN QUOTIDIAN

Obrigada por tudo e até mais.

Coming Back to Texas

 

Who knew it could be so hard to say goodbye to a place. That heavy, choked up feeling in your chest. Pressing my hand against the window as though I was leaving a lover forever. In a sense it's true. I may come back, but it will be a new experience. I was saying goodbye to an amazing four months over a certain time in a certain place that will never exist again. Yup, eyes welling up. A few tears.

And I was also ready to be going home. I began to note the language transition after I landed in São Paulo and everyone spoke to me in English, despite me (unconsciously) responding in Portuguese.

Then all of a sudden there I was in Houston and making small talk was effortless again because it was in my native tongue. Though also, the lovely sound of Portuguese was still there too: several Brazilians set across from me discussing the (lack of) internet connection. Across the way, I overheard conversation in Spanish. Ah, the United States. Gotta love the language blend.

With a ringing in my ear (nothing like flying when you've got a cold), I drank coffee and watched the sky light up with morning and played Sudoku on my iPhone. 

My sweet boyfriend greeted me at the Austin airport with a mug of my favorite tea with evaporated milk and we stopped for breakfast tacos at Taco Deli before heading home. 

I am back and actually already unpacked. 

But, I'm not ready to be done with this blog yet. More posts to come!

Rainy Day Goodbye

Sigh.

It's Tuesday afternoon and soon, verrrry soon, I'll be heading to the airport.

It's raining cats and dogs. My fingers are crossed that my flight leaves on time for São Paulo.

Drinking a cup of black tea. Bags packed. Petting Cipote. Oh Cipote, I'm gonna miss you.

It feels a bit surreal.

I have been running around, going non-stop, trying to get everything done. And so, as I write, the kids involved in the photography project are on their way to the Santander Cultural for their exposition. N., T., & E., who collaborated with me on this have promised to take photographs.

I wish I could be there, but I am also ready to board my flight home.

Here are some pictures of the setting up of the show.

I was there just a few hours ago, helping with the final touches. But it was really T. & N. who devoted their entire day to getting this ready yesterday. They are amazing, and yes, somewhat indecisive too. Ha. Two indecisive creative people trying to decide where to hang photographs.

I can only imagine! I was with them until about 1 PM yesterday and couldn't return until 5:30. They were crazy at that point after being cooped in the museum basement all day long. Lots of giggling ensued.

 

I'm going to miss them. And I am so full of love and affection for the kids who took these photographs.

Stay tuned for more pictures!

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].

Airport Goodbye

Samosa left yesterday to fly home to the States. Initially I had planned on returning to my internship that afternoon. We discussed the idea that I'd put him in a taxi to the airport and then myself grab a bus to the office. It sounds a bit heartless I know. How could I not be there for as long as airport security would permit me? I felt a bit guilty about it and I also had a lot of pent-up I-have-missed-one-week-already-I-NEED-to-go-back-to-my-internship-NOW energy.

I called my supervisors that morning. I told them I was feeling better and was ready to start. They said, "That's nice. But, please, please, get some confirmation from a doctor that you indeed are better. Get some x-rays done. Make sure the pneumonia is gone.

Hmmm. They had a point. The locations I was working in and some of the places I'd be eventually visiting (i.e. kiddie prison) weren't exactly the healthiest spots to hang out in. If I was weak and still highly susceptible, chances were good I'd just get sick again.

So I said, "Ok, I'll do that." Of course, I didn't really know how I'd do that, but I'd deal with logistics later.

Now I had a free pass to take my boyfriend to the airport. I had been feeling kind of bad about not going with him. Here was a way to go and not feel about about not going to the internship either. Seeing as they weren't actually letting me come back to work yet.

Not that I'm any good at goodbyes. And neither is Samosa necessarily. Suffice it to say we were sad and made silly jokes to cover up some of it. And found them funnier than usual. I felt like crying. I remembered fellow classmate's post about a visit from her boyfriend where she's interning in Tanzania.

In some ways I think there are some existential questions that arise during moments like this: when you're utterly involved and immersed in something temporary but saying goodbye to someone permanent. They run the simple lines of what am I doing? Where am I supposed to be? I'm happy to be here in Brazil and excited to be at this internship. At the same time saying goodbye to my boyfriend at the airport makes me feel as though it's not real. Of course, I imagine that when I do return to Austin, Texas in a few months that it won't feel quite real at first either.

And so, I waited outside security while Samosa went through. The groovy but slightly dangerous-looking owl sculpture that he'd bought at the Brique da Redenção caused some consternation when it showed up in the scanner. I could see various hand gestures as the security guard and Samosa tried to communicate despite language barriers. I could see Samosa having to unpack the entire backpack and unwrap the owl and the security guards examining it. I wished I could be there to help out with translation. But in the end, they let him re-pack and go on his way.

I gave him a questioning thumb's up. He returned it. Phew. All okay. We waved goodbye and blew each other kisses and waved goodbye some more. Then he disappeared to find his gate. I didn't feel quite ready to hop on a bus back to my neighborhood, so I wandered up to the third floor of the airport. Turns out it was a mall, complete with cinema, cafes and restaurants, clothing stores, a post office and a number of banks. Wow. It was surreal, especially the cinema part. And amusing considering my prior musings. I figured it was a good time to buy stamps for the postcards we'd written.

The sweet lady in the post office chose the prettiest stamps for me, ones with colorful birds adorning them. They had no adhesive on the back though. And I watched as she patiently ripped out two stamps at a time along their perforated images. She brushed glue across them and carefully pasted them onto each of the seven postcards.

I thanked her and slowly made my way back down to the ground floor. I walked outside the airport and crossed a lane of cars picking up loved ones. I stood against a concrete column waiting for the T5 bus to arrive.

Amulets for my Adventure

My bags are packed...

I forgot what it's like to head out on an evening flight. I didn't want to wear my travel clothes all day long so I had to scrounge through what was left in my closet to keep me warm...Now I'm kind of regretting not having packed the cowboy boots to properly represent Texas while in Brazil....

I had a last lunch at the incomparable Veggie Heaven with my boyfriend, and my friends Chutney, Abder and Samini...mmm, bubble tea, Protein 2000, tangerine mushrooms, some dish with pineapple in it. What more could a girl want for a farewell meal shared with friends?

"Are you prepared?" asked Chutney, "Have you packed an umbrella?"

"Yes," I said, "I have an umbrella."

"Well," then she said with a nod of her head, "You're set."

Later, Abder came in with a second travel umbrella for me in UT orange. Now I'm doubly prepared...

---

I head to the airport in a little over an hour. Heating up more water for tea on the stove. Wearing the beautiful bracelet given to me by my friend Chutney to help me remain grounded while setting off to places unknown.

I'm feeling that mixture of emotions, unsurprising really. Excitement. Nervousness...some sadness as I say goodbye to wonderful people...the hardest will be my boyfriend when we finally hug goodbye at the airport.

Adventures await. I'm hoping for the grace to balance openness to the unknown with caution about the unknown...kind of like the saying, "Trust in God, but lock your car."

Stay tuned for updates as soon as I get access to internet in Brazil...

Saying Goodbye

(Cookies Made with my Little Sister)
Originally uploaded by Blue Dragonfly Girl

As part of our last evening together, my Little Sister* and I went to pick out stationary together.

She wanted to go to Wal-Mart to find the perfect paper, "Because I trust them."

As we walked through the aisles, she asked, "Why don't you shop at Wal-Mart? Where do you buy your clothes?" And I thought about how I do not shop there as a personal choice, reinforced by certain eye-opening documentaries. And how, in this moment, it didn't matter.

"Oh, I don't know. The other day I was at Kohl's," I said.

"Oh," she said.

She found a pack of pastel-colored paper. We grabbed a box of envelopes and made our way to the check-out line.

Then we went to the McDonald's in the store. Another place that I only go to with her. Armed with cookies (for her) and a latte (for me), we set at a booth next to some Vietnam vets discussing relationships. I pulled out the 17 ninety-eight cent stamps I'd purchased earlier in the afternoon.

"Ok," I said, "Let's get started. I'll write the addresses. Will you be in charge of the stamps?"

I began addressing the envelopes to myself in Porto Alegre.

My Little Sister affixed the stamps. Of course, I was slower than her. "Try some of my cookie," she said, "It's good. McDonald's does them just right: nice and soft and a little chewy."

"Oh that's okay," I started to say but she had already placed a piece of cookie near me. I popped it in my mouth. She was right. It was good. "You're right," I said, "That is good."

"Told you so," she said, "So, when do you get there?"

"On Tuesday."

"Ok, so I'm gonna write you a letter write now. And I'm going to mail it on Saturday and it'll be there for you when you get there."

I laughed.

"What?! I'm going to miss you. I have to let you know that."

"No, no, that's great of you," I said, "I won't look at what you're writing so I'll be surprised."

I continued to write addresses. She occasionally asked me for help with spelling certain words.

She folded the letter, placed it in the envelope and sealed it with zeal. "Now there's a letter for you!"

She returned to putting on stamps. "Oops, I forgot to write USA on the return addresses," I said, "Can you do that?"

"This is fun!" she said, "I like this!"

"I can't wait to get letters from you," I told her.

"What do you want me to write you about?" she asked.

"Well, how you're doing, what's going great, what isn't going so great."

"It'll be like a 1/2 hour TV show every week!" she said.

"Exactly - I'll get updates from you filling me in on what's been going on. The Life of My Little Sister. So what would you like from me? Would you like mostly postcards or would you like letters?"

"Postcards with pretty pictures....oh you know what? Let's fold the paper too and put it in the envelopes so it's ready to go every week."

She divided up the colors to make sure they were almost evenly represented and we put them in the envelopes. Then we put the envelopes back in the box for her storage.

It was a lovely evening (minus time spent wrangling with the Apple store earlier on my Little Sister's behalf which would be a rant so I'll spare y'all for now) spent in two places that I would never, ever go to on my own, with the coolest 15-year-old I know. We've been hanging out for just shy of three years now, with interruptions of no more than two weeks in between each time we see each other.

I'm going to miss her. I can't wait to get her first letter.

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*The young woman I mentor through Big Brothers Big Sisters