Claire takes on the world….

I yet again forgot to spell check. I´m on someone else´s dial up and it´s late. Terribly sorry. I´ll fix it at my next earliest convenience.

I’m more than likely never going to win any awards for my parenting skills. I just saw an episode of Scrubs (In English HURRAH!!) and in it Dr.Cox was treating his 3 year old as his buddy. I think myself and Dr. Cox may have something in common. Apparently one should occasionally say no to a child, which as it turns out I cannot do. I had a cold today. In a building devoid of toilet paper I needed my tissues. Some of the girls took a liking to my tissues and suddenly I only had an old one that I convined them was too dirty to play with. We decided this evening there would be no ipod until their homework was done. After about three seconds of persuasion Licelith was listening to the ipod while doing her work.

I discovered at dinner this evening that children are not the best at secret keepers!. We had what I think might have been baby food. The liquidized vegetables were lovely. I didn’t however take to the ‘mushy-pea wannabe beans’ concoction as well I should have. The children around me looked hungry so I put on my concerned face and asked Maria if she would like some of my beans. She politely said ‘no, thank you’ and went up to the Senorita in charge and said something in Spanish. Looks were thrown in my direction. To rub salt in my fresh wounds she then went into the kitchen and got another big plate of beans and vegetables. I turned to Licelith, my trusty sidekick, my fellow cheesy pop music lover, and offered her my beans. She gave me one of those big-eyes looks, hopped off the chair and ran off to the Senorita. This time I knew what was being said and when I asked her on her return she informed me that she had indeed squealed on me. She had a right little giggle about that. I waited until all the people in charge were looking the other way and made a dash for the kitchen. An hour later two of the children were still in the dining area. No one gets up until dinner is fully eaten.

I’m not sure if I should keep blogging throughout the summer. Most of my days will be more or less the same now that we’ve gotten into a routine. I’ll be travelling in September so might have more to say then.

However this evening it is 8.30pm, everyone seems to be in bed and the TV only speaks Spanish so I might as well tell you about my day in the office. The children here in Casa Hogar were gone to school by the time we got up at 7.30. School starts crazy early here because the teachers teach in shifts. The younger students only have school in the morning and the older ones in the afternoon. So I knew I’d have a morning of teenagers in Casa Del Ninos. CDN is only a 5 minute walk up the dusty hillside from our casa. If anyone wants to check it out I think the website is www.casadelnino.com.pe There might be an ‘s’ after nino I’m not sure. We start work there at 8.30. Michael was sent to work in the computer room making a poster for the upcoming Drama festival. I would usally like designing posters but graphic designer trumps media student so he got the gig. I got the job of glueing the dates of the festival to the massive sign hanging from the front of the building. When I asked for a paintbrush I got a smile, which was nice but useless! So I ended up painting on the glue with my fingers. Wouldn’t have been too bad had we had running water to sort out my hands later. For some reason we only have running water up there in the early mornings and evenings. I also stapled without a stapler. Cool huh?
I moved up to the roof-with-a-roof to do some hanging out. I thought seeing as it’s not so long since I was a teenager I could mingle with them. But I discovered I suck too badly at table football to be one of the guys. Some of them make it look like an art. They were completely unimpressed with my tactics which included twirling the little players round and around until I hit something (which at one stage happened to be a child’s hand). They couldn’t see why someone would let a footballer be upside down, even for a second.

I gave up on that and mosied over to the pool table. Pool here is played with three people. Each using the black ball to sink the yellow balls. They keep count of how many yellow balls they have sunk. It’s not a Peruvian thing, just a CDN thing. I was playing with two nice young ladies, Diana and Isabella who kept their Spanish basic enough for me to learn a bit about them. I was brought back to my own teenage years when three boys came over wanting to get rid of us and kept moving our yellow balls over to the edge of the pockets to speed up our game. They were laughing and playfully digging each other as boys often do. I’d love to finish this with ‘I stepped in and told the boys to leave the girls alone’ but in the heat of the moment I completely forgot all my Spanish and ended up saying something in Irish, I think!. It’s all a nervous haze. We finished our game after one of the little girls stood up for us and the boys got the pool table.

I ended the morning session with some table tennis. I think the lad who was playing against me was damn glad when 12 o clock rolled around. I said ‘One more point’ but he’d already grabbed his bag and legged it out of there. We must have been playing for a good half an hour.

The plan is to eventually teach the kids down in the library in the mornings. Some of them take English which I would love to help them out with, in fact I would almost pay some people to learn English at this stage. But today was our first full day there so we were just settling in.

We had the most delightful meal for lunch. Our cook in CDN is the same woman who made us food at her housewarming on Sunday. Man that woman can cook! I still can’t get used to the Peruvian custom of eating and then drinking though. I need something to wash down the food as I eat. I think I may have to be rude tomorrow so I get to fully enjoy that woman’s cooking.

We went for a stroll around the neighborhood that’s called ‘3 de Maio’. They like calling streets and places after dates here. We walked among the rubble and half made buildings. It looks like what I always imagined Egypt to look like. It’s cool and has character, the only bits of the walk I didn’t enjoy were the 188 steps we had to climb to get back to the casa. I’ll get photos of this place up soon, Michael is the photographer I’m the writer. I’ve decided to call myself a writer because it sounds way better than unemployed and technically when I call myself a student I’m lying.

The afternoon was spent much as I’d spent my morning, but with much smaller people. One guy asked me to play chess. I’d played chess with a friend just a few days before I left Ireland and didn’t do so bad, so I felt sort of confident. The guy absolutely annihilated me!. I was so bad he called his friends over to see. I felt bad for him because he is so amazing at chess that no one would play him, and it seemed to be the only thing he wanted to play.

I fared a lot better at Hopscotch. I think that’s my game. My competitors didn’t even come up to my waist in height but I didn’t let that stop me. I needed to redeem myself after the chess and I believe I did. I also discovered during this game that the way to communicate with the people is not only speak in Spanish but to do it with an Italian accent. It’s the way most of them speak. Also, to emphasise a word it’s good to put your hands out in front of you, palms up and shake them a little bit.

Tomorrow we are getting dressed up in costumes from the drama department and are going to be paraded around town. I’m not sure whether we’re promoting the upcoming festival or if this is the opening of it, but either way I’m very excited. I’ll get my photographer Michael out to record event.

Michael and I are now an formidable force with our matching pocket dictionaries. There’ll be no more charade-playing. We now speak Spanish although it can take up to 30 seconds to answer a question depending on how hard to find the word is.
Our weekends are now Sunday and Monday. Turns out a hatred of Mondays transcends age and race so the Casa Del Ninos is only open Tuesday through Saturday. Our weekend started with our first trip to Peruvian mass. As we were leaving our place it was suggested to us that we might bring a coat as they hadn’t quite got around to putting a roof on the church yet. These people like to build things bit by bit, and don’t let the fact that a building is half-done stop them using it. As expected we kissed everyone on arrival. I helped the priest set up his microphone system and Michael did the more religious aspects of the altar. The priest is Tony, the guy looking after us during our time here. The service was very enjoyable. Lots of music with a really groovy drummer. The priest seemed to have an MC helping him run the show. She seemed to introduce the readings and tell people what to say. Mid way through the mass someone seemed to offer up their perfume. Later in the mass this was raffled off and won by the husband of the raffle organiser. That didn’t go down so well. I was determined to not screw up the peace offering part after making an ass of myself in India. I shook the person next to me’s hand to their absolute horror. In India one bows to the people next to them and does not engage in physical contact. Peru is the exact opposite. We kissed and hugged and everyone says ‘Paz’ which means peace. Me, (destined to screw this part up) kept saying ‘Hola, crap no I mean paz’. After mass we kissed everyone for the third time and went on our way. We even got a invite to dinner out of that mass.

In the evening we had the esteemed pleasure of being at a house-warming. Normally these are not such a big deal but when it’s for a family who have always lived in a shack it’s a damn big deal. We couldn’t understand what was being said but still knew it was a moving moment (mostly by the fact that the guy talking had tears in his eyes). The house was beautiful and built by a guy not much older than myself. Tony had given him work on a few building sites and he had saved up all the money to build this house for his mother. We had just had dinner at the Columbian Missionaries HQ but couldn’t say no to a lovely old lady who was offering us chicken, chips, rice and Inca Kola. Inca Kola is a disgusting (Michael loves it) yellow soft drink that tastes like Red Bull. But I still buy it because I love that it’s a local beverage that’s bigger than Coca Cola.

Monday was as lazy a day as Sunday. Had lunch with some people and did some shopping. Michael and I decided to venture out to explore the nearest town, Huandoy. I got to see the house shaped like a boat up close. I’ll get photos of that up when I get a chance. It is the coolest house, made by our local Japanese marine engineer. Mike had to jump and shield my eyes at one stage of our walk so I wouldn’t see the dead dog on our road. (Michael now reads this so I have say nice things about him. Hi Mike!) I’d probably have barely noticed the dog in the sea of rubbish and sand with bonfires scattered randomly around the place. We decided to give the Peruvian food a miss for yet another night and went to Norky’s, Peru’s answer to Supermacs (Ireland’s answer to McDonalds).

I’d heard a lot about male supremacy here and how women are 2nd class citizens. But I presumed it was a myth. Turns out it’s not. I got my first taste of this while dining in the aforementioned Norky’s. Only Michael was given a menu. When I tried to ask for another one I supposedly ordered something. It was all very confusing. I finally got one even though at that stage I knew what I wanted so it was only on principle. Whenever the waiter came over he made it clear he was talking to Michael. He was so shocked to be talking to a woman that he couldn’t comprehend my order (or it may have been the bad Spanish). I’ll put this in English for you less linguistically blessed.

Me: “Can I have a Fanta please” (pointing at the word Fanta)
Macho Pig: “Fanta??”
“Yes Fanta,Fanta!”
“Oh, you mean a glass of Fanta?
“Ehh…ya”
“And to eat?”
“Chips please”
“A quarter chicken and chips?”
“No, just chips!!”
“Oh ok, and to drink?”
“ARGH”
I may not have “Argh-ed”. Either way it was a frustrating meal. Of course Michael laughed at his every chauvinist move. I made a point of being the one to ask for the bill and he made an even clearer point of handing it to Michael. It killed me that I didn’t have any change and Mick had to pay. Before I leave this town there will be a women’s march right down the middle of it and many a bra will be thrown on those bonfires.
We got back to Casa Hogar (finally got the right name for it, incidentally there is a massive sign that says ‘Casa Hogar’ on our roof) just in time to hang out with the little ones before they went to bed. While the others were stilll saying ‘hello’, Liselith had already made a beeline for me repeating her new catchphrase ‘Su radio, su radio’. I’m pretty sure if I went home in the morning it would take her at least til the weekend to realise I’m gone, as long as I left the ipod. I tried out some new music on her this evening. Leanne if you’re reading, “Hard to Grasp” seemed to scare her a bit but “Something Else” made her smile! She doesn’t like Irish trad music but she likes No Doubt and that’s the main thing. After they went to bed we had a jig saw making competition with Jackeline. As Michael said “She does this for a living” so we don’t feel too bad about losing.

My photos from Sao Paulo are up. They’re in the ‘Sao Paulo Photos’ entry from a few days ago. You had better love them because putting them up almost killed me. At least I now know not to put my finger into a Peruvian computer. I think I’m still a little electric hours after that shock. And just as my headache was getting really bad I walked into a pole head first.

I’ve noticed that my spelling and stuff is really bad on my blog. I don’t know how, it’s perfect on my laptop (this may be a lie) but when I transfer it over to the main computer it goes all wrong. It also puts little – signs randomly in words. To anyone who doesn´t know me English really is my first language I just seem to have forgotten how to write now that I´m out of formal education. Until I hire a sub editor I hope you can bare with me.
Chau!

After three days in the city I may not be fully qualified to judge and evaluate the place but I will anyway. We’re staying in one of the many suburbs of Lima, just off the map in my Lonely Planet book. I haven’t been in the city yet but I’m in no mad rush to venture in. It’s supposed to be a pretty posh place (the Miraflores area anyway) and I’m happy here near Huandoy (pronounced Wandoy). The streets around here are like something from a western movie. It absolutely never rains here. The streets are a mix of sand and dust. A water pipe burst yesterday and we saw that the road is in fact black but it’s normally a brown colour. When we look around brown is the predominant colour. To get to where we’re staying we have to drive off the road and over what looks like a football pitch without grass. It’s just brown earth with loads of potholes. Lima is often called a big building site. This is a very appropriate name from what I’ve seen of it. Almost every building is under-construction. The family live on the gound floor while the top floor doesn’t have a roof and it full of buildings materials.
I live in a three story (fully built) house that is always packed with people. On the bottom floor the social worker lives with her family. The first floor has 7 children and their nurse. And Michael and I occupy the top floor. I suppose I should introduce the 7 children. First up is Elvira, she’s 14 and loves the tennis/volleyball type game we play in the living room. Next up is her sister Maria who comes in at just over 13 year of age. She’s the most reserved of the lot, the cool dude if you will. Then there’s Jackeline, possibly the most hyper of the lot, she’s 11. Michael is 8 and is fast becoming Irish Michael’s shadow. Cielo is Michael’s younger sister. Her name means ‘Heaven’ and I must say she is quite peaceful. Liselith is another cool dude. She’s 7 and likes to veg on the couch and listen to 80’s music on my ipod (well she did that once but she seemed to enjoy it). The baby of the gang is Anelle. She’s turning 5 next week and her main hobby is strutting around being cute.
In the unlikely event that anyone in the house feels lonely and needs a companion we also have the odd pet. At the moment we have a hamster, 20 rabbits, 6 guinea pigs, 7 hens, a rooster (who I may some morning murder), a turkey, a peacock, a pregnant sheep and 3 parrots. We also have two creatures that look like llamas but they call them something like alcoptos. Either way they are supermodel version of a sheep. White and fluffy but with long legs and lean bodies. These all live in the garden by the way, not in our nice clean house!

Casa Del Ninos is barely a 5 minute walk away from our casa. Saturday was our first proper day there. In a cruel twist of fate, the only English speaker in the place is deaf and (trying to think of the politically correct term here) vocally impaired i.e. he can’t talk. He’s the arts and crafts teacher. I ventured in (because I thought it was the woodwork class) and helped the little ones make Fathers’ Day cards. Fathers’ Day is a really big deal here. They got yellow paper, painted it pink, cut tie-shaped bits from a leather jacket and put them on the front of the card. They even made a shirt for the tie using paper and buttons. I saw the teacher writing me a note and was dreading having to explain that I don’t understand it. Almost fell off the cushion when I read ‘We’re making Father’s Day cards’. Blind, deaf whatever that guy is going to be a friend of mine.

While the cards were drying, I wandered upstairs to the roof. The roof itself has a roof so it’s not entirely a roof but it only has a shed type roof and wire around the sides so it’s windy enough to be a roof. Up there, they have a table tennis table, two table soccer tables, and two pool tables. I was the only female up there and wasn’t quite sure how I’d fit in with the ten year old lads. I’d only just made it up the final step when a kid ushered me over to his table tennis game. I was estatic to be allowed into their gang so soon. I stopped when I got to the table but he said ‘No, no’ and directed me to a line about 4 feet behind the table and he stood in front of me holding the bat, facing the table. I was a ballgirl! Just as I giving up hope he hit an awful shot, turned to me and said something in Spanish. When I looked blankly he handed me the bat and led me to the table (where I also played terribly). I figured out it was the way they played. Sort of like a tag team. When you lose a point you let your partner play. That’s where the rules start and end though. When you’re actually playing there’s no sense to the game and the rules seem to change every five minutes. I tried to get my tennis partner’s name. It’s something along the lines of Eggsore (I sincerely doubt that is how it’s actually spelt).

I played some relaxing boardgames with Michael Jr while Michael Sr had a much more active afternoon. In a place with countless things to do, it’s unfortunate for him that the only thing Licelith and Cielo want to play with is him. He lifted them up after they joined us on the ‘roof’ and ran with them both. He put them down, a little out of breath thinking that was the end of that. A good hour or so later, he was still running around with them (and I mean running). He arrived at our boardgame huffing and puffing. Let’s hope they don’t relise I too could run with them, I’m stronger than I look, y’know!

On the way home I had my first proper Spanish conversation! No more nodding and smiling from me (until we move on from topics such as family that is). I was walking home from the Casa Del (I’ve decided to shorten the name) with Maria and Elvira. I think from the way I was talking they realised I know the words for easy and difficult. So they whole way they asked me my opinion on various things; ‘facile o dificile?? I also explained that I have 2 brothers and 2 parents. I bounced in the door ready to take on more of those common irregular past participles I’ve been spending so much time with.
In the evening we watched a Barbie movie, in Spanish of course. If anyone would like a copy of this film, let me know before I leave, it’s not as bad as you would think. Well no, it is. They randomly broke into ballet dancing in the middle of a wood. The ‘half-hedgehog half-boy’ thing was particularly light on his feet. As usual the dark people were the baddies and the blonde people were the goodies. A great lesson for our Peruvian children I thought.
We only had energy for a small Spanish lesson that evening, we crashed early so we’d be alert for our first taste of a South American church service early the next morning.

After this summer I believe Michael and I will be the best charade-players Ireland has ever produced. Unfortunately that game doesn’t seem to have reached Peru yet. We both got knocked over by the language barrier today, the first day of our volunteer placement. I was told no one in Peru would speak English, but I was told that about Brazil too and I met loads of English speakers there. But they weren’t kidding about Peru!
I got up early this morning to meet Michael who was moving into our new apartment from the house he had been staying in. He was just as impressed as I was with the three bed top floor penthouse. We ventured downstairs and met some of the women working here in what I think is called something like Casa Del Gomos, I’ll have to check that. We live in a home with 7 children, who for one reason or another had to be placed in care (not going to go into their personal business online, suffice to say they’re cute as hell). There’s usually more here but lots have left and new ones haven’t arrived yet. But at the time we decided to go meet some people, only Anelle, who’s too small to go to school, was there. We chatted with the cooks for a while. It was funny at first how they couldn’t understand us and vice versa. But once we stopped laughing, we realised we were going to have a problem. Michael impressed them with his domestic Godliness. They unfortunately gave me an orange which completely distracted me and I didn’t even notice he was cleaning until it was all over.
The children came back from school at one. In Peru small people go to school in the morning and teenagers take their lessons after lunch. So we had our first meal with the children. I think the food was called something ‘del Gomos’. I really don’t know why I think everything is called Gomos, this blog isn’t exactly going to be filled with factual information but I’ll look that up too. I, however, renamed the food Spaghetti Tuna-nase, because that’s what it was, spaghetti bolognaise with tuna instead of meat. It was….. interesting! One of these things that’s nice when you first eat it, but after a few mouthfuls you’re not quite sure. Peruvians don’t eat and drink at the same time, so after dinner we had something whose name I will have to check. These names are really hard! It’s a drink made of seeds, sugar and hot water. Kind of like a hot honey drink. The kids talked and talked and we nodded and nodded. I was grand for the first three sentences. I knew they wanted to know my name and age and where I come from. I also would have been fine had they wanted to book a room, ask directions or talk about their brothers and sisters! None of these topics, which I had prepared, came up and I sat there, being about as talkative as the chair.
After lunch we headed to the special-needs school. The students here have to pass one year before going onto the next, it’s not like in Ireland where a semi-trained monkey could make it through primary education. So students who repeatedly fail a year generally start hating school and stop going. So this school gives the kids a year where they work mainly on their weaknesses. They’ve done everything to try and make it the opposite to school; no rows of desks, circular buildings instead of square and if a child doesn’t want to go into the classroom they don’t have to. In the yard they have cows, sheep, hens, baby chicks, turtles with wrinkly feet, a peacock and a few others I’ve forgotten. I got a dodgy look from one of the women there when I pointed at a turkey and said ‘Cena’ (dinner). I just wanted to show off my Spanish word, I wasn’t going to eat her pet or anything!
The school only opened in the last few months but it looks like it’s going to be a great place. Their next project is to get trades started for the students who aren’t academically inclined. Michael and I will be working there a few days a week for the next two months.
After we’d introduced ourselves and kissed a lot of people in that school we headed to the Casa Del Ninos, the place I mistakenly told people in Ireland I would be staying in. In Peru, life would be hell for anyone who dislikes their co-workers. Because no matter how you get on, you can be sure you´ll be kissing them twice a day. Casa Del Ninos is like the greatest after school hangout place ever! It’s a massive (4 or 5 story) building in which the students can do their homework; many of them wouldn’t have space at home to do it. It also gives them a safe place to play and most importantly lets them be children. A lot of them have work and responsibilities and home but in Casa Del Ninos no one ever tells them to do anything, they are free to jump and shout and take part in the many educational activities.
The teenagers go there in the morning, mostly to do their homework but also to do some hanging out, and there are music classes. Michael’s going to be playing some music with them. If only I had my trumpet with me, I could show them a thing or two….
In the afternoons, hundreds of younger children go there. Around 500/600 children go there every day. Here there is just about everything to do. There’s drama, painting, homework places, reading room, psychologists, speech therapists, behavioral therapists, games up on the roof, playroom for the really small ones and a woodwork studio. They make some amazing things with that wood.
We only walked around for an hour or so today and met all the people. I’ll write more when I know more about this fascinating place.
Back in Casa Del Gomos (if that is what it’s called) we played some games with the kids that I’m pretty sure should be illegal. One called San Miguel was particularly violent. The aim of it is to grab a child who is sitting on the ground and being clung on to by other children and you just have to grab the thing and pull. I swallowed a stone during one of these games (maybe it was a pebble I dunno) and I can tell you it hurt.
During all this time we couldn’t really communicate with everyone. It didn’t seem to bother anyone really. They talked, we listened. Maybe they think we’re great listeners or something. At dinner I finally had a bit of a breakthrough. The little one Lecitha (spellings will more than likely change when I figure out how to spell the names) was talking away to me non-stop for a good 40 minutes. At one stage she asked me something to which I answered ‘Sí’. I knew it was a question from the way she put it. This ‘Sí’ got me a cheer from the other kids. I still haven’t a clue what I said yes to.
But that’s not the breakthrough. She then said
“Como se dice naranja en Ingles?”
I thought long and hard about this one. I knew from my Linguaphone CD that “Como se dice” means “how do you say”. The end of it is pretty self-explanatory so I only had to figure out the naranja part. I then remembered the Coke machine in the restaurant and the orange was called naranja. Finally I understood an entire sentence. I think I said “Orange” so loud I startled the other children a bit.
The nurse then burst the kid’s bubble (and mine) by informing her that I hadn’t a clue what she was saying. This earned me one of those big brown eyes-looks, like I’d been lying to her all day. I felt bad and thought I should say something to explain but alas I didn’t know how. After maybe a minute or so she seemed to forget this information and we were back having a full blown one way conversation.
A few minutes later I had to double cross the child by insisting she finished her dinner while at the same time swapping mine for some cake. I had had enough Spaghetti Tuna-nase for one day. And these people make damn good cake. I’m surprised these children sleep at all with the amount of sugar in everything!

It is now 11.30, I’m really sleepy but I can’t nod off until I learn a bit more Spanish. Can’t have an-other day like today where I’m constantly apologizing for my ignorance. We have 4 textbooks, 3 CD language courses, 3 computer programmes and 2 phrasebooks between us. Hopefully we’ll be chatting like locals in no time.

Seeing as I talked so much about him I guess we should have a photo of Cassio. This is my Brazilian journalist buddy who was the greatest tour guide ever.

One thing that amazed me about Sao Paulo was the amount and open-ness of the prostitutes. While I was waiting for my entry stamp I was standing next to a poster of a child and it said ‘I am not a tourist attraction’. That majorly disturbed me. From what Cassio was saying there seems to be more than a few ‘Red Light Districts’ in SP.
This is a selection of ‘ads’ I found.

Speaking of ads I think this one is just great. Had to show it you guys.

The church that looks like Notre Dame (I think).

And to be vain for a second, one of me. But if you ignore me you for a moment you’ll notice a really cool view of Sao Paulo.

My second (and last) day in Sao Paulo wasn’t quite as eventful as the first. My watch broke after a shower incident, turns out it’s not waterproof (sorry Mom!). Because of that I missed the free breakfast. I stayed in bed til as long as I possibly could. I eventually strolled out about 5 to 12, had to be out of there by midday. I wandered the streets for a while trying to find the buffet place I’d had lunch in the previous day. That place must have moved because it wasn’t where we left it. I found a nice little place on a corner and had a pizza cake type thing. I started to warm to Brazilian food just as I was leaving the place.
My luck with airports is still as bad as ever. Sao Paulo airport has to be one of the busiest yet under-equipped in the world. My terminal had hundreds and hundreds of people there, and only two scanners to check them through. I queued up at 5pm and finally got to the scanner at 6.15. I only went through early to take a nap at the other side. If I hadn’t I would have surely missed the plane. After the scanner I then took three steps of freedom before I had to join another queue. This time to get my exit stamp.
I’m not sure what to make of Sao Paulo. It’s a lovely city but didn’t knock me backwards or anything. It weirds me out a bit the way they’ve hidden the poverty. And the wealth there is just crazy. I was told it’s not really on ‘the backpacker trail’. If it was in Europe I think it would be. It has all the charm of a European city but doesn’t have the cheap prices and novelty activities people have come to expect from South American hang outs.
After a 5 hour flight to Lima I was reminded yet again why I hate airports. I skipped ahead of everyone by bouncing down the stairs while they all took the escalator to immigration. I was out before everyone and feeling quite chuffed. I stood by the luggage conveyor belt that I could have sworn said Sao Paulo for a good 20 minutes and then saw the Canadian girl with the Irish passport I’d been trying to beat out of the airport, strolling out with her rucksack. I scooted over with my trolley and saw that all my fellow passengers were getting their stuff behind my back. I grabbed my one that must have been going round and around for ages. After the customs check I went through the arrivals door and started my hour long search for Michael, the guy from college I’ll be volunteering with in Lima. During this hour I made plans to sleep in the airport. I scrapped that and decided to go into Lima alone, and then I changed my mind again and decided to fly somewhere else (it was at this stage 1am, I was wrecked and lost and don’t speak Spanish). But before I whipped out my credit card to fly away I had the brainwave of putting on my Kerry jersey. There was a chance one of the Irish priests would be picking me up, not Michael and I figured the best way to get spotted in a foreign country was to wear something unmistakably Irish. After emptying out my entire rucksack and retrieving my jersey I spotted an illuminous green sign that said ‘Claire Canning’. Turns out one of the priests, Fr. Tony and his right hand woman Elsa had been standing there at arrivals waiting for over an hour and a half (they did the same the night before because they got the dates mixed up). They took me away in Tony’s VW Beetle through the unpaved roads of the suburb we’re in (I’m sure it has a name but sure I don’t know what’s being said to me here). Finally after 2 days of (sort of) travelling I reached the home I’m to spend two months in with Michael. The English name of this home is the ‘Home for Troubled Children’. I will explain that one when I’m not quite so jet lagged.

Shortly after writing my last entry things took a turn for the worst. I was one of the last getting of our plane because of the tons of crap I’m lugging with me. And it seems 6am is too early for most Brazilians. There were only 2 people working the immigration desk so it took me over an hour and a half to get my ‘shiny Brazilian stamps’. People from the flight that arrived an hour after ours were right behind me. As I approached the top, 6 more people arrived into work and it went pretty quickly, by then I was fit to collapse. At least they let me into the country.
Leaving Sao Paulo airport was more difficult than I had envisaged. I suddenly realised I didn’t really know anything about the place and I started remembering every horror story I had heard about people being abducted and attacked, and at the very least mugged. I was sure as soon as I stepped outside the door there’d be someone outside waiting to lighten my load. I ended up having breakfast there and tried to have a conversation with a deaf woman who sold me some Sponge Bob Square Pants stickers. Eventually at 10am I felt ready to check my luggage into a locker and venture into town.
After not sleeping much on the plane , I straight away started snoozing on the bus. Would have missed my stop had it not stopped so abruptly and flung me onto the floor. I had instructions written by a friend of mine, Cassio, but was pretty sure these were in my bag back at the airport. I had to use the map in my guidebook. Unfortunately, orienteering has never been my forte. I headed to Rua de 24 Maio, the street named after my birthday! I kept walking, occasionally jumping when a smooth black thing hit my hand; I kept thinking it was a dog, turned out to be my sleeping bag that I had dangling from my daypack. I came to a museum with big stone steps in front of it. I figured it would be safe to take out a guidebook there, didn’t really want to on a busy street. I sat with a load of men (later discovered this spot is where the unemployed guys sit everyday waiting for work) and discovered I had indeed gone in the complete wrong direction. I found Cassio’s instructions in my bag and between that and the map I finally found Sao Paulo Hostel.
I had booked a bed in an 8 bed dorm but they must have been out of those because I got a single room with an en-suite. Complete with TV, fan and a fridge. Not bad for 10 Euro. Was about to hit the hay when Cassio rang saying he’d be there in 40 minutes to take me to lunch. After a quick shower I was off to see the sights.
We went to a buffet place to eat. It’s where he and his journalist buddies eat a lot. It was great to try loads of different Brazilian food. Wish I could describe it but I’ve no idea what I was eating. Looked like loads of seeds. There was a chicken curry in there too, which was lovely. We weighed our plates then and paid, depending on how heavy it was.
Cassio had to head to work for a while to proof read an article he had written, and he took me with him. Got talking to a girl at the next desk who loves Ireland. She even has the Ireland Lonely Planet on her desk. I hung around the office for a bit. Wish I could remember the name of the paper. It’s one of the two biggest in Brazil apparently. I sat in a swively chair pretending I was a hot shot reporter, but was in fact on my Bebo page checking my messages. Soon enough we ventured back onto the street of Sao Paulo.
We walked for hours around the downtown area. Cassio explained that that was the place where tourists generally don’t go. It’s not dangerous or anything, it’s just not an affluent area. I saw a church that looked like Notre Dame in Paris, an art museum modelled on one in Paris, a building that was modelled on the Empire State Building and a park that could easily have been Central Park. Good to see some original architecture there. Cassio seemed to know the history of the entire city; I barely know the street names in my home city so I was well impressed.
We also chatted about the economic development of the area (yes we are ever so smart!). I’d heard about the number of people living in favelas in SP but amazingly enough I didn’t see a thing. It was like they had hidden all the poor people. He explained how in Rio rich and poor live side by side, but in SP the poor live outside the city. I saw about as many homeless people as I would on a day out in Dublin and I didn’t meet one beggar. I heard how, because of this, many people come to SP, even as backpackers, and leave thinking it’s a very well-off place.
We then got the metro up to one of these posh places called the Miraflores area. It was incredible. We could have been in Manhattan. In fact that is the only place in the world that has more helicopters than Sao Paulo. We passed a block of apartments that each cost $2,000,000. Saw some of the most amazing houses. We got a bus out of town, but got off early to avoid a man telling us how the world was about to end because the population was getting too big (or something along those lines)! We walked through the Ibirapuera Park which is like the outdoor gym of Sao Paulo. Hundreds of people jog by there every evening.
We heard Sao Paulo fashion week was on in the park. Fashion Week shows are the ones Victoria Beckham and Co. like to be seen front row at. We were informed Gisele Bunched (Leo deception’s ex) was the guest-of-honour that evening. So I turned up at the very prestigious fashion event in my hiking boots, jeans and t-shirt that had been my pyjamas ’til I ran out of t-shirts. We stood at the door taking photos for a while (saw a Brazilian Indian chief who is a celebrity round these parts but Cassio couldn’t remember him name). After taking a few photos we moved on, we doubted we were the clientele they were looking for.
We wandered around a bit more, I saw the freakiest tree ever! It was like it had octopus legs drooping down from its branches. It must have had 50 or so. As it was dark and shadowy I was actually terrified of the tree. I ran ahead a little bit pretending to be joining in with the joggers.
We had dinner with a friend of Cassio’s (whose name escapes me right now – but he was a lovely guy!). I was so hungry I was afraid to go for a Brazilian dish in case I didn’t like it so I went with the ever-trusty baked potato and chicken topping. Cassio’s friend is in charge of marketing M&Ms in Brazil. What a cool job! I went on (possibly a bit too much) about how I love Yellow and Red (the two M&Ms characters) but that I prefer Yellow cause he’s so damn funny. He said when he thinks of Ireland he thinks of U2 and war! How lovely!! They also groaned when I could only think of football for Brazil.
All in all, was a very educational day. Don’t think I’ve ever seen so much of a place in one day. The lads drove me home after dinner. I was so tired I barely remember grunting at the reception people to get my key. Then woke up on my bed, fully clothed, a few hours later, all set for more Brazilian fun the next day!

Location: Heathrow airport, London.
Time 9pm

Hello. How’s it going? Might as well start this blogging thing in Heathrow airport, where I’m here cutting cheese with the end of my toothbrush. Decided against trying to sneak through a knife. Said goodbye to Ireland little over 3 hours ago. The departure lounge was like a cattle mart, with all the heifers crying on their bullocks’ shoulders. It was full of couples leaving for Australia for a year. I met some friends who are heading to Kenya for the summer. I hadn’t entirely said goodbye to them before so it was handy that I bumped into them.
Had my first awkward situation on this trip. I realised before boarding the plane that there were a few items I should pick up to compliment my bag of clothes and random crap. So I splashed out on a money belt, a waterproof pouch, a combination lock, and travel towel. I discovered a few minutes later that the money belt would only fit around me when I breathed in, even after I adjusted the straps. I needed a money belt so badly that I was going to put up with this inconvenience but I decided to head back to the shop and try exchange the now opened and stretched belt.
I found a lady that looked like she might be a pushover to attempt to get a refund.
“Hey, I’m sorry I bought this belt a few minutes ago and I’ve adjusted it and all and it won’t fit, and I don’t think I’m all that incredibly large.”
“Did you adjust it?”
“Psh. Ya!” (I handed her the adjusted belt)
“You pull here and…….” (at this stage the belt would have fit around two grown men)
”Oh, ya cool. Can you believe I’m travelling the world alone?”
I wanted to return 5 minutes later for help with the combination lock and the waterproof pouch but I didn’t want to seem completely stupid. I got the lock working but I’ll have to wait til I find Michael to get that pouch open.
Security check in was a small nightmare. Took me 4 trays to get all my stuff through the scanner. And these English like people to be compact. I was the only one of the crowd I was following to get two bags through. I needed one tray for my laptop, one for my bag, one for my shopping and coat, and one for my boots, belt, ipod and contents of my pockets. I caused some crazy delays too trying to get my laptop out of it’s protective sleeve whilst also trying to hold up my beltless pants. Wore the wrong jeans for this trip.
I very almost didn´t get on the bus to terminal 4. The bus next to me was heading to terminal 3 and was obviously going to some part of India (judging by all the Indians). It was like my final temptation. I wanted to just run in and have a chat to them and then get back on my merry way. But I got my India fix then by calling Isabella in Shillong. She’s the reason I had no credit to text people back earlier. Sorry people!

9.25pm Having bad memories of many Ryanair flights here. Flight is delayed because catering hasn’t showed up yet. I guess food is as good a reason as any to hang around. I need the extra time anyway to learn some Portugese. I’ve been studying for an hour or so now and still didn’t catch a word of the last announcement.

3am Bathroom breaks just after one wakes up on a plane can be a bad idea I’ve found. Got up and stumbled into a bright room (in our otherwise dark plane). It was full of what seemed like passengers who wanted to read. Some others were standing around so I stood next to them presuming the were also waiting for the bathroom. When I got asked if I needed anything I realised I was in the air stewards’ hangout spot, and no where near the bathroom. One nice one realised I was still half asleep and lead me to the bathroom. She came back a couple of minutes later to find me struggling with the door. With her help I finally made in into the toilet. To make my experience all the worse I had to go through the air stewards’ room again to get back to my seat.

9.07am (5.07 local time) I’m almost in Brazil! People have been asking me recently whether I’m nervous or not. Well I wasn’t until about half an hour ago! I’m half an hour from landing in Sao Paulo and desperately trying to learn the Lonely Planet book off by heart so I don’t have to whip it out in the middle of a street and announce my touristness.
Flight has been great. The air steward bordered on harrassing me with that wine! Not that I’m complaining. Reminded me of my college days and people giving out that I drink too slow.I now have a nice collection of British Airways wine in my bag that I will enjoy at a later date.Time for me to turn off this little puppy. 30 minutes to landing and I have forms to fill out. Talk to you after I get my shiny Brazilian stamp. Tchau!

I want to know how to do funky things like link to photos. So this is my photo testing entry. To practice I’ll put up a few photos from my weekend in Kerry after which I had to say farewell to two friends Claire and Maedhbh.

First a photo of Maedhbh after we climbed a massive mountain:

This is Claire and Maedhbh strolling down the mountain:

And one of me, so you know who’s writing. This is me serenading the local wildlife, as I often do…..with my one song.

In other news, I’m almost ready to set off on my adventures! Leaving for Sao Paulo, Brazil on June 12th. Once I locate my wallet I’ll be all set to go.

I haven’t been doing too badly since I last blogged. I’ve been onto the good people of Chile and Brazil about visa stuff, got my Australian visa, bought inadequate insurance, got to Module 2 on my TEFL course (it’s gonna be a long road to module 10), bought some traveling clothes, got my last shot, did some banking, wrote an essay and sat an exam. Still haven’t booked accommodation in Brazil or perfected my Spanish but I’m almost ready for take off.
One thing I should probably deal with before I leave is my crazy phobia of airports. I had all my worst traveling experiences in airports. I once had to sleep on a bench in Heathrow because after an hour of hanging out on the runway we were told there was something missing in the engine. Just a few hours before that I was asked to carry my laptop in a plastic bag because my carry on which was fine for the last 7 flights was suddenly too big. As mentioned in my previous blog I found myself booked in for the wrong month in Paris, and somebody took my luggage. Perhaps the most traumatic experience was explaining to an Indian airport official what a tampon was.
Now with the added burden of one-way tickets I don’t know how I’ll cope.
Better get back to the degree….