[[I broke from my normal pattern of Portuguese blog titles just so I could be sure that anyone with even the slightest inkling of interest in doing this program DOES IT!!!]]
Porque você deve participar no programa Yale no Brasil
I said it before, but I really had no reason to come to Brazil other than that it was something to do over the summer. While that might not've been the best reasoning, I'm glad it made sense at the time! I totaly recommend this program. Especially for freshmen; this was definitely the perfect way to wrap up my first year as a Yale student.
Reasons why this is by far the best study abroad program Yale University offers:
Four Credits
That's an entire semester. AN ENTIRE FREAKING SEMESTER. Do you realize what this means? It means you never have to take a 5 credit semester. Ever. In your entire Yale college career. And if you choose to, you do so knowing that A) you can drop that extra credit, and B) you're enrolling in that class because you want to, not because your degree depends on it.
The Workload
It's ridiculously manageable. It's not really a gut because it's interesting (I tend to think gut courses are incredibly dull--easy as fuck, but dull), but there's really not a lot of (necessary) work. The language classes (especially the L1/L2 program) cover a lot of material, but they cover that material in class. Meaning most of the work you do will be during your 3 hours of Portuguese for Romance Language Speakers, not at home on your own. Jackson's class has a heavy reading load but... it's not actually necessary that you do it. Skim what looks interesting and enjoy the fact that you're in Brazil, learning more from lived experience (one would hope) than from 16th century Portuguese poetry.
The ISA
Okay, so not everyone gets it, and not everyone who gets it gets one as generous my own. But, if Yale helps you out majorly in terms of financial aid, TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THE INTERNATIONAL SUMMER AWARD. Essentially, Yale paid for my entire trip. I say "essentially" because Yale initially said they would only pay for 88% of the total cost; however, they're the ones estimating travel expenses and, as luck would have it, they (really) overestimated. Long story short, I got to keep the difference. So, every time I was lounging on the beach in Paraty, sipping a caipirinha I won in a raffle on our island hopping booze cruise, or stumbling out of a club in Lapa at 2 am on a Sunday morning, I stopped and thought: "Yale paid for me to do this. Holy fuck."
The Jacksons
They're seriously some of the nicest people in the world. Bete is super awesome, a really sweet person, and a kick-ass Portuguese teacher. Three hours (for the most part) flew by because we used the time effectively--as in, we were actually learning and not doing pointless drills. Professor K. David Jackson (Bete's husband) is really great too. His course consists mostly of him talking and when you take a break from surfing Facebook (when you have internet access) you can tell just how brilliant of a Brazilianist he is. Their kids came along too, and both of them are nice. Their daughter was our age so a lot of people got to be pretty close with her, and she came out with us a couple of times. It was a little awkward when we ran into her parents/our professors as we were walking to a bar. I never really got to know their 15 year old son. Both of them speak Portuguese as a first language--something you would NEVER assume from just looking at them.
I didn't really know Marta (the intermediate teacher) but some words that I've heard used to describe her are: "Sassy," "DGAF," and "Badass Bitch." Okay, the last one was just me... she definitely looks like one.
Brazil
Enough said.
But I'll say a little more anyway. Six weeks in Brazil should be enough to convince anyone. But take into account that the structure of this program is perfect. Your first two weeks are in Paraty, a historical, colonial city half-way between Rio and Sao Paulo. It's small, touristy, and beautiful. It's great for test driving your burgeoning Portuguese skills and for just taking in the fact that you're actually in Brazil (I think if we'd gone directly to Rio my head would've exploded). Normally Yale's there for the FLP (Festival Literaria Portuguesa), which was rescheduled when I went this summer because of the World Cup. Apparently it's an equally great experience that infuses Paraty with a lot more liveliness (and about 30,000 more people), but I enjoyed having Paraty nearly empty of tourists. Then four weeks in RIO DE JANEIRO. They don't call it A Cidade Maravilhosa for nothing.
Not New Haven
I love the Elm City (no, seriously, I do) but in the summer... Eh. The weather's shittier than normal a lot of the time, and not that many people are around. Luckily, the Brazil program spends two weeks in The Have. TWO. That's the shortest (I'm almost positive) time spent at Yale out of any of the Summer Sessions Abroad--well, actually the Swahili in Kenya program doesn't spend any time in New Haven at all, those bastards go straight to Africa. The French program, on the other hand, was on campus for almost a month before going to Paris. 14 days in New Haven and then SIX WHOLE WEEKS in Brazil. That is by far the best configuration for any Yale abroad program that starts off on campus.
No Experience Necessary
Very few summer sessions abroad have L1/L2-level courses available. The sole requirement for the intro. class was familiarity with a Romance language. While Spanish is definitely the most helpful, there were people who spoke French and even Romanian.
Learning From My Mistakes
The utter freedom of this program, especially in terms of structured activities vs. free time could be overwhelming at times. With so much that I could be doing, I frequently found myself not doing anything, really. I let homesickness affect me more than I would've liked, and lot of time was spent trying to hijack wifi from Luba's neighbors or hanging out in the internet cafe around the corner.
And it was always during those bouts of not doing anything that I started to feel really bad about not doing anything, as if I were completely wasting my experience in a way. That's not a good line of thinking to start down when you're even slightly emotionally on edge (because you're thousands of miles from home, friends, and the familiar). And, honestly, towards the end of the 5th week of program, I really started to think about going home a lot more and actually looked at my calendar in pseudo-countdown fashion. While I loved seeing two very distinct parts of Brazil, that was also somewhat disorienting. Just as I got used to Paraty, we up and left for Rio, for example. I then spent the next few days readjusting to life as someone's tenant in a totally foreign city--it definitely wasn't the smoothest transition for me to make.
Five months after returning to the US and Yale, my time in Brazil is now definitely in the realm of memory. I can't remember all the specifics of the trip, and my reflections are mostly hazy combinations of nostalgia and saudades. I definitely learned a lot from my six weeks abroad, though--about myself, about the place I come from, about what I want to do in life. I enjoyed the Yale Summer Session in Brazil, to be sure, but it did feel like a 6-week vacation; I mean, that's not necessarily a bad thing, but I wasn't out saving the world, or even interning or doing research; I was taking classes, exploring Rio, and generally relaxing. All admirable things and I don't regret doing them, but I now know that I want my subsequent summers to be more substantively productive.
But like I said, Brazil was awesome. Like Bete says, "O Brasil encanta, Brazil enchants." I definitely would love to go back, and I'm so happy that I had the opportunity to go. It was eye-opening on so many levels. The friends I made were also an added benefit; maybe it was just the particular year that I did it, or maybe the fact of being in such a wonderful place with such a relaxing academic program just pusts everyone in a good mood--whatever it was, I had an incredible time!
Well, I guess that's about all I have left in terms of Brazil-related blog posts. This probably lacks all credibility since there was a six-month gap in my postings, but I truly enjoyed keeping this online journal and am planning on starting one up for second semester--I'll post a link on Facebook or something.
Até logo, amigos. Graças por ler!
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Numa, numa van
[[This'll be a short one since it's adapted from my final report/'project' for Intro to Brazil. Pardon the pretentiously academic tone and enjoy my in-line metacommentary! Also, extra points if you caught the O-Zone reference.]]
Regardless of how many times I’ve taken busses, subways, or trains, I find myself almost completely incapable of shaking my inborn Californian mistrust of public transportation [[An hour-long bus ride and walk EVERY DAY of school for two and a half years means, quite simply, I FUCKING HATE THE BUS--for the most part, if I'm in no rush and it's not crowded, it can be alright]]. So when the bus I had been planning on taking to PUC on my second day in Rio never showed up, I was relatively—and, I think, understandably—shaken [[I almost cried]]. As time continued to pass with no bus in sight, I desperately sought an alternative [[I started to freak the fuck out]]. It was then that I saw the van. I don’t think I’d ever really noticed the vans before; I assumed, rather, that they were back-alley operations that probably jacked up their prices, took advantage of tourists, and were generally unsafe [[I couldn't tell if people were getting in them of their own free will or if they were being kidnapped]]. That image was shattered within the first few seconds. The man leaning out the window shouting, “Leblon, Gávea, PUC!” at random crowds on the street, hoping to gain a few more passengers, was actually quite helpful. I ended up getting to class in less time and at less cost than if I had ridden a bus. [[What really ended my anti-van prejudice was talking to an American student who'd been in Brazil for 8 months who said to me, "Yeah, they seem really sketch but they're a lot cheaper than the bus." Cheaper? She said the magic word.]]
Regardless of how many times I’ve taken busses, subways, or trains, I find myself almost completely incapable of shaking my inborn Californian mistrust of public transportation [[An hour-long bus ride and walk EVERY DAY of school for two and a half years means, quite simply, I FUCKING HATE THE BUS--for the most part, if I'm in no rush and it's not crowded, it can be alright]]. So when the bus I had been planning on taking to PUC on my second day in Rio never showed up, I was relatively—and, I think, understandably—shaken [[I almost cried]]. As time continued to pass with no bus in sight, I desperately sought an alternative [[I started to freak the fuck out]]. It was then that I saw the van. I don’t think I’d ever really noticed the vans before; I assumed, rather, that they were back-alley operations that probably jacked up their prices, took advantage of tourists, and were generally unsafe [[I couldn't tell if people were getting in them of their own free will or if they were being kidnapped]]. That image was shattered within the first few seconds. The man leaning out the window shouting, “Leblon, Gávea, PUC!” at random crowds on the street, hoping to gain a few more passengers, was actually quite helpful. I ended up getting to class in less time and at less cost than if I had ridden a bus. [[What really ended my anti-van prejudice was talking to an American student who'd been in Brazil for 8 months who said to me, "Yeah, they seem really sketch but they're a lot cheaper than the bus." Cheaper? She said the magic word.]]
Rio Gay Janeiro (Paraqueer?)
When thinking about my summer, I knew that I wanted two things: to be out, and to experience, in some capacity, queer social life in another country. That definitely wasn't why I chose to come to Brazil, but it was something I thought about a lot after finalizing my summer travel plans. So while I obsessively Googled "gay nightlife rio" or "gay-friendly brazil," not knowing exactly where I would be staying once in Rio hampered just how productive that Googling actually was. Not to mention that "gay Paraty" turns up a review for Paraty Affairs, a--how shall I say?--"mature" film about a "rangy, dreamy-eyed Argentinian" and his "various sexual adventures involving well-built, uncircumcised, sun-toasted men"--as well as that super awkward Out Travel review.[[Actually, re-watching that travel review and re-reading the porno review leads to some eery similarities... In fact, they basically follow the same plot, from the boat trip to the sexualized pool playing (in the reviewer's words, "handsome Raul Dias sounds his [co-star's] depths on a billiard table"). Right..]]
Anyway, Paraty unsurprisingly failed to be the rustic gay mecca that Logo promised. The only queer thing of note happened on perhaps our drunkest night there. Being led around town by some (overly?) friendly Paraty natives, or paratienses (some of whom have since been Facebook friended by people on the trip...), my fellow group of Yalies and I downed caipirinhas, cachaça shots, and Brazilian beer in quantities that would make a Zeta brother proud (may their frat RIP--but not really). Stumbling back to the pousada with perhaps much more trust in these random strangers than we should have had, I struck up a conversation with one couple, who I later learned owned the town's largest internet cafe, Dog Fighter (say, dohg-ee-fye-teh). Rather than describe the exchange, I'll let the words speak for themselves. Luckily, drunk me thought it a good idea to transcribe everything that was said--gotta love that guy:
Me [slurringly]: So, are there gay people in Paraty? A gay club?
Lady Rando: Haha. No. Sometimes foreigners, the foreign gays love it here. No clubs.
Me: Ughhh.
Lady Rando: Are you gay?
Me: Yeah.
Lady Rando: Really? You don't seem like it.
Me: Thank you...?
Lady Rando: You're welcome. [to Man Rando] Hey! He wants to know if there's a gay club in Paraty!!
Man Rando: Gay club? Are you gay??
Me: Um.
Man Rando: Gay! You like to kiss men?
Me [slurringly and awkwardly]: Um. Yeah.
Man Rando: Hah! Stay away from me then!
Landy Rando: Shuttup! He's only joking, Brazilians love gays.
Thus ended my search for queerness in Paraty. No big. I would be in Rio in a matter of days. And besides, I had requested GLS (Gays, Lésbicas, e Simpatizantes) housing--yes, the word for "ally" in Portuguese is "sympathizer"...
Like I mentioned earlier, my lodgings in Ipanema were pretty damn queer. A block away from the gay beach, a short walk from Le Boy (and La Girl), and a subway ride from The Week. But my interactions with gay Rio didn't start until Jazzmin and I went to Lapa--famous for its dancing, its clubs, its street vendors, and its propensity for casual molestation. No, seriously. Women, especially foreign women, attract a lot of (sometimes unwanted--just ask a few girls on the trip) attention, which occasionally gets physical.
While meandering around, Jazzmin and I noticed a group of women whose shirts boldly declaring "Sou uma mulher do arco-íris, com muito orgulho! I'm a woman of the rainbow and very proud of it!" Of course, we then proceeded to stalk them as they handed out fliers and, eventually, after consuming a Skol or two, I basically shoved Jazzmin into their lesbian midsts and had them give us their spiel. They're called Laços e Acasos (which translates [very] roughly to Links and Happenstance) and are part of Cidadanía Arco-Íris (Rainbow Citizenry), Brazil's oldest LGBT organization. They're an all female group dedicated to improving safe sex practices among lesbian and bisexual women as well as providing a space for queer women to discuss any number of issues (religion, relationships, family, etc.). After cruising (no pun intended) their website, I found out that they have a group for gay and bisexual boys and men called Entre Garotos (Between Guys). I shot them an email and went to one of their meetings--it was an incredible experience!
While it was kind of a schlep to actually get to where the meeting was held (and it wasn’t in the best part of Rio), and when we got there I had to awkwardly explain that I wasn’t looking for free HIV testing. Thankfully, the woman that I’d emailed came over and brought us into the room where Entre Garotos was meeting. There were about 20 people there throughout the course of the night, with an age range of maybe 17 to 22. The group members were presenting on hepatitis transmission and prevention. I had no idea that there were that many kinds of hep… Every presentation was fun (and informative!) with the guys all joking around with each other and with the older, organizational folks there. For example, the women in charge of the programs demonstrated, quite vividly, how to put on a condom using nothing but your moth—her demonstration involved a flavored condom and a humongous dildo (and lots of uncontrollable laughter). One of the teenagers jumped up and offered himself as an alternative to the dildo, prompting one of the older women (who seemed to be a doctor or nurse) to remark how much easier safe-sex for women was. Easier? I dunno, but there’s definitely much less risk of setting off your gag reflex.
After the presentation, I spoke to the woman in charge (as you can probably tell, I completely forgot her name and was too far in the conversation to ask what it was…). She told me that Entre Garotos had two main goals: health and education. The health stuff, she said, is about teaching a new generation about HIV-AIDS and STI prevention. They focus on getting condoms and other safe-sex products to the young people who need them and on teaching the basics of safe sexual practices as a means of empowering youth to make healthy decisions about their own sex lives and relationships. Being a CHE presenter, I was in heaven. And things only got better. I found out that Cidadanía Arco-Íris does anti-homophobia presentations in public secondary schools and schools that train teachers. The director explained that, since they couldn’t get into early education (LGBT sensitivity training for first graders is kind of impossible), they hoped to at least reach teachers who would be interacting with younger kids.
Like most LGBT youth organizations, Entre Garotos (and Laços, for that matter) work with youth with hostile families. In fact, two of the people at the meeting were expulsos da casa, kicked out of their homes, some had to live on the streets, having absolutely nowhere else to turn. The director remarked at how crazy it was that such things could happen in Rio in the year 2010. I told her that I had a friend working with homeless youth in New York City, the last place you would think of as anti-gay. She looked surprised, but then said, with some sadness, that prejudice was “uma coisa do homem, do ser humâno,” a part human existence. At the end of our chat we exchanged email addresses and promises to stay in touch.
I left feeling both energized, even more sure of my dedication to work with queer youth in the future—but also, perhaps understandably, sad. But even that sadness wasn’t overwhelming; I had seen the way that Rafael, the young man who’d been thrown out of his home was laughing and smiling with the rest of the garotos—I saw how he was belonging in a way that really moved me.
Other than that, my experiences at Rio's gay clubs were unimpressive. I never made it to the younger, hipper, more expensive The Week, and Le Boy was filled with little more than muscly gogo-boys, standoffish couples, and awkward dancing--not to mention a RIDICULOUS cover of 45 reais. Fortunately, that cover included a concert by the one, the only, Wanessa, who sang a variety of pop songs (from MIA to Gaga to Britney). Basically, it was a far cry from the hot sweaty mess I'd imagined. Maybe if I'd gone to The Week it would've been different, but who knows? And don't get me started on La Girl... Smirnoff Ice. Overwhelming fake fog. Seemingly no lesbians. And no one dancing (except an ambiguously gay man who started dancing in front of his reflection at the wall-length mirror). No one dancing, of course, until me and Jazzmin got up and whored out like it was no one's business.
[[P.S. I emailed back and forth with the Entre Garotos people for a while. They never got back to me after my last one though, but I'm thinking of emailing them again--and maybe hitting them up for another t-shirt...]]
Anyway, Paraty unsurprisingly failed to be the rustic gay mecca that Logo promised. The only queer thing of note happened on perhaps our drunkest night there. Being led around town by some (overly?) friendly Paraty natives, or paratienses (some of whom have since been Facebook friended by people on the trip...), my fellow group of Yalies and I downed caipirinhas, cachaça shots, and Brazilian beer in quantities that would make a Zeta brother proud (may their frat RIP--but not really). Stumbling back to the pousada with perhaps much more trust in these random strangers than we should have had, I struck up a conversation with one couple, who I later learned owned the town's largest internet cafe, Dog Fighter (say, dohg-ee-fye-teh). Rather than describe the exchange, I'll let the words speak for themselves. Luckily, drunk me thought it a good idea to transcribe everything that was said--gotta love that guy:
Me [slurringly]: So, are there gay people in Paraty? A gay club?
Lady Rando: Haha. No. Sometimes foreigners, the foreign gays love it here. No clubs.
Me: Ughhh.
Lady Rando: Are you gay?
Me: Yeah.
Lady Rando: Really? You don't seem like it.
Me: Thank you...?
Lady Rando: You're welcome. [to Man Rando] Hey! He wants to know if there's a gay club in Paraty!!
Man Rando: Gay club? Are you gay??
Me: Um.
Man Rando: Gay! You like to kiss men?
Me [slurringly and awkwardly]: Um. Yeah.
Man Rando: Hah! Stay away from me then!
Landy Rando: Shuttup! He's only joking, Brazilians love gays.
Thus ended my search for queerness in Paraty. No big. I would be in Rio in a matter of days. And besides, I had requested GLS (Gays, Lésbicas, e Simpatizantes) housing--yes, the word for "ally" in Portuguese is "sympathizer"...
Like I mentioned earlier, my lodgings in Ipanema were pretty damn queer. A block away from the gay beach, a short walk from Le Boy (and La Girl), and a subway ride from The Week. But my interactions with gay Rio didn't start until Jazzmin and I went to Lapa--famous for its dancing, its clubs, its street vendors, and its propensity for casual molestation. No, seriously. Women, especially foreign women, attract a lot of (sometimes unwanted--just ask a few girls on the trip) attention, which occasionally gets physical.
While meandering around, Jazzmin and I noticed a group of women whose shirts boldly declaring "Sou uma mulher do arco-íris, com muito orgulho! I'm a woman of the rainbow and very proud of it!" Of course, we then proceeded to stalk them as they handed out fliers and, eventually, after consuming a Skol or two, I basically shoved Jazzmin into their lesbian midsts and had them give us their spiel. They're called Laços e Acasos (which translates [very] roughly to Links and Happenstance) and are part of Cidadanía Arco-Íris (Rainbow Citizenry), Brazil's oldest LGBT organization. They're an all female group dedicated to improving safe sex practices among lesbian and bisexual women as well as providing a space for queer women to discuss any number of issues (religion, relationships, family, etc.). After cruising (no pun intended) their website, I found out that they have a group for gay and bisexual boys and men called Entre Garotos (Between Guys). I shot them an email and went to one of their meetings--it was an incredible experience!
While it was kind of a schlep to actually get to where the meeting was held (and it wasn’t in the best part of Rio), and when we got there I had to awkwardly explain that I wasn’t looking for free HIV testing. Thankfully, the woman that I’d emailed came over and brought us into the room where Entre Garotos was meeting. There were about 20 people there throughout the course of the night, with an age range of maybe 17 to 22. The group members were presenting on hepatitis transmission and prevention. I had no idea that there were that many kinds of hep… Every presentation was fun (and informative!) with the guys all joking around with each other and with the older, organizational folks there. For example, the women in charge of the programs demonstrated, quite vividly, how to put on a condom using nothing but your moth—her demonstration involved a flavored condom and a humongous dildo (and lots of uncontrollable laughter). One of the teenagers jumped up and offered himself as an alternative to the dildo, prompting one of the older women (who seemed to be a doctor or nurse) to remark how much easier safe-sex for women was. Easier? I dunno, but there’s definitely much less risk of setting off your gag reflex.
After the presentation, I spoke to the woman in charge (as you can probably tell, I completely forgot her name and was too far in the conversation to ask what it was…). She told me that Entre Garotos had two main goals: health and education. The health stuff, she said, is about teaching a new generation about HIV-AIDS and STI prevention. They focus on getting condoms and other safe-sex products to the young people who need them and on teaching the basics of safe sexual practices as a means of empowering youth to make healthy decisions about their own sex lives and relationships. Being a CHE presenter, I was in heaven. And things only got better. I found out that Cidadanía Arco-Íris does anti-homophobia presentations in public secondary schools and schools that train teachers. The director explained that, since they couldn’t get into early education (LGBT sensitivity training for first graders is kind of impossible), they hoped to at least reach teachers who would be interacting with younger kids.
Like most LGBT youth organizations, Entre Garotos (and Laços, for that matter) work with youth with hostile families. In fact, two of the people at the meeting were expulsos da casa, kicked out of their homes, some had to live on the streets, having absolutely nowhere else to turn. The director remarked at how crazy it was that such things could happen in Rio in the year 2010. I told her that I had a friend working with homeless youth in New York City, the last place you would think of as anti-gay. She looked surprised, but then said, with some sadness, that prejudice was “uma coisa do homem, do ser humâno,” a part human existence. At the end of our chat we exchanged email addresses and promises to stay in touch.
I left feeling both energized, even more sure of my dedication to work with queer youth in the future—but also, perhaps understandably, sad. But even that sadness wasn’t overwhelming; I had seen the way that Rafael, the young man who’d been thrown out of his home was laughing and smiling with the rest of the garotos—I saw how he was belonging in a way that really moved me.
Other than that, my experiences at Rio's gay clubs were unimpressive. I never made it to the younger, hipper, more expensive The Week, and Le Boy was filled with little more than muscly gogo-boys, standoffish couples, and awkward dancing--not to mention a RIDICULOUS cover of 45 reais. Fortunately, that cover included a concert by the one, the only, Wanessa, who sang a variety of pop songs (from MIA to Gaga to Britney). Basically, it was a far cry from the hot sweaty mess I'd imagined. Maybe if I'd gone to The Week it would've been different, but who knows? And don't get me started on La Girl... Smirnoff Ice. Overwhelming fake fog. Seemingly no lesbians. And no one dancing (except an ambiguously gay man who started dancing in front of his reflection at the wall-length mirror). No one dancing, of course, until me and Jazzmin got up and whored out like it was no one's business.
[[P.S. I emailed back and forth with the Entre Garotos people for a while. They never got back to me after my last one though, but I'm thinking of emailing them again--and maybe hitting them up for another t-shirt...]]
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