Am I Corn or Kale?

My parents joined us in Ilha Grande last Monday and, despite the rainy and/or cloudy weather, we were able to enjoy milder trails and scenic boat trips. Indeed, Ilha Grande would have looked a lot like paradise had it been sunny there… but at least I got to snorkel for the first time at a place called Lagoa Azul (Blue Lagoon), which would have certainly looked bluer if… Oops, here I am complaining again.

Seriously though, we went back to the Lopes Mendes beach and played in the water for a long time. The waves were awesome (big but not too big) and we got extremely tired from riding them. Ilha Grande’s car ban really threw us off when we got back on the mainland (kids from other villages on the island come to school by boat!). We walked on the rocks, saw a dog trying to fight a huge crab, laid on a hammock, ate a delicious frozen coconut ice cream tiramisu, and I personally read a whole issue of National Geographic. Really, our only other complaint is that we both got sick toward the end of the trip.

The 7-hour bus ride to Sao Paulo was a bit of a traumatic experience for Norika, whose sinus infection/motion sickness combo almost did her in. It surely didn’t help that bus drivers in Brazil must be psychotic beings, driving extremely fast over non-cooperative roads (essentially for the first 5 hours of the ride we were either zigzagging through narrow mountain roads or slugging over huge speed bumps when we passed over coastal towns). To think that roads were not even close to being Brazil’s worst highways is truly frightening, but at least we felt smart about flying instead of taking an 18-hour bus ride to the Iguazu Falls.

The last few days in Sao Paulo have been quite busy. It took a good while, but the sun finally came out again at a rather ideal time: we planned to play some soccer (more precisely, futsal, a  variation of the game played on a small hard court which is essentially what I played my whole life) on Saturday, but it rained from the time we woke up till after 2pm. Then, a little over an hour before we were supposed to play, the rain ceased and the sun magically started to come out. My futsal skills were a bit rusty (I forgot about the man-to-man coverage this game requires) but played better overall than I used to. Norika was the only girl: ironic as it may sound, in Brazil soccer is seen as a “man’s sport” and women and girls (especially middle-class and up) are rarely invited/accepted/expected to play — of course some of them do, which is how Brazil actually has a competitive squad on an international level.

After soccer we made our way to a smallBBQ/live music gathering at the Arts & Communications Department of the University of Sao Paulo (USP). It sounds fancy, but it was not: despite being Latin America’s most distinguished univeristy, USP’s exclusively public funding (there is NO tuition) means their buildings are rather decrepit albeit oddly charming. In fact, it should approach many people’s mental picture of a communist university (which in a way wouldn’t be too far from the truth). Anyway, we had a good time listening to my friend’s jazz band, drinking ice cold cheap Brazilian beer, eating sporadic amounts of grilled meat, and chatting with a British guy who’s been to Rio way more times than us. That same night my sister picked us up and we headed over to a mass karaoke club/snooker bar in Liberdade, Sampa’s Japanese district, for one of her college friends’ birthday. There our bellies were graced with the odd mix of caipirinhas, temakis (cone-shaped sushi), and french fries.

Sunday we had our most culture-filled day since our arrival. We met my aunt at the Portuguese Language Museum, which featured bizarre multimedia presentation and slightly more digestible, interactive displays detailing the twists and turns of contemporary Portuguese. In the end, I think Norika understood better why this language is such a pain to learn. Later than night my sister invited us (and got us in for free) to the remarkably posh theater where she works (currently as a 2nd job). We watched an impressive, fancy production of “The King and I” — to Norika’s astonishment, both dialogue and songs were all in Portuguese. Slightly-too-operatic vocals aside, the musical was really cool (I think I enjoyed it more as I could understand what was going on) yet rather sad. Did anybody else think that?

Last night we went out to the famous Bar do Juarez to celebrate my 26th birthday and our imminent departure. We had a great time chatting the night away and survived a short but wild ride home.

Before I forget: if anyone ever comes to Sao Paulo, you must eat at Jaber. We would kill to have this kind of Arab food available in Northern Michigan or Vermont. Their savory selection is nothing short of amazing, but their sweets don’t fall too far behind.

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