I miss Charlottesville. My house. Those chilly evenings, with a blazing fire, eating lots of delicious food--my friends. Today I have felt out of place. Like I belong in the cold mountains of the American South and I couldn't be further from that right now.
Good moments intermingling with difficult ones. As it should be.
A word on the weather: here, in the rainy season (which we are in right now), the days will start out extremely hot and sunny. And then around 2 or 3 in the afternoon, the sky just explodes. Monsoon style. Thunder, lightning, torrential rains...and it lasts about 30 minutes. Then the climate is all nice and wet and fresh and cool--and the sun returns, and the evenings are a perfect 70-75 degrees.
Last night a few of us guys went out to a football match.
It was incredible to be there, really something to see. This was unsaid amongst us, but I felt it, and I think the other guys did too: we gringoes have this notion of soccer in Latin America. Or anywhere besides the States for that matter. We thought it was gonna be a fucking nutshow. Packed with millions, people screaming, kicking, combusting, etc. Maybe it usually is like this--however, it is still the beginning of the season, and the stadium last night was practically empty.
It wasn't the craziness we expected. Nobody blew up. But the scene was explosive. Completely different from sports in the States (I try not to say "America" anymore, because I am in America, just South America). No big scoreboards or screens or ads or bullshit. Just a huge field and guys playing. But here is the best part: soccer hooligans really do exist. There is a big percussion section that plays CONSTANTLY. And there are probably 10 or 12 different chants that just organically spring out of the beat. The chanting is constant. Nobody stops cheering. Really something to behold.
(will insert video when I have more time because it takes forever to upload)
Needless to say, I did not chegar a minha casa (I love inserting Portuguese words into English sentences) until 2:30, feeling tired and delighted and dreading the moment of my clattering alarm just 4 short hours down the road. Well, this moment occurred--and I tried to get up. I really did. I probably could have. But I made the conscious choice to sleep through class. I have been so sleep deprived here--there is no way I would have been able to stay awake. There is a point where it is physically impossible.
Every night I dream deeply, and I am right in the middle of a dream when my alarm goes off and I completely forget it. It is very frustrating. This morning, when I re-awoke at 10:30, I remembered my dream, but it was a difficult dream (although I did learn something extremely essential to my state of being from it. This notation is more worthy than the parenthetical treatment it is receiving--and my commenting on it completely negates the intended subtlety (hence the parentheses, which I should now change to brackets)]. I felt guilty and irresponsible for choosing to go to a soccer game over going to class. Am I too "good"? I am in Brazil, after all....
(not that that has anything to do with it--and yes, this tidbit is not consequential enough to receive anything more than the lowly parenthetical status I bestow upon it)
My host mom was upset (she woke up at 6 to make me breakfast...I parenthete to minimize the severity of this situation but it is a delusional way to make me feel better), and worried, and it just was a bad scene all around. Getting on the bus and hearing Jerry's sweet serenades cheered me up a bit, and seeing people did too. My impulse is to isolate. I was gonna see a movie and listen to some sad Townes maybe and maybe cry a little and reject humans. But humans feed me.
I have no regrets. I learn. And this time, it won't take me twice.
Time for this cannibal to beat it on down the line. Check it.
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