I'm not Jenna, I'm her sister who is visiting for a few weeks. To read her post, which is at my blog go here
It's not so hot here.
It's the kind of weather I love and savor, somewhere in the low 100s in the day and high 80s in the evening (which makes me chilly and begging for jeans and a light sweater).
The plane ride left something to be desired. My 10+ hour flights to Tokyo or London were more comfortable than the seats on this flight- I kept thinking my chair was broken because it only reclined about 1/2 and inch.
But I shouldn't complain, I arrived safely and finished The Kite Runner because I shouldn't sleep. My next few days on the beach allowed me to finish A Thousand Splendid Sons (both by Khaled Hosseini- I highly recommend both books). I became a bit anti-social because I wanted to finish so badly. Not speaking the language and only understanding a few words spoken to me is a good excuse to exclude myself!
If it were Spanish, I think I would be okay, but this Portuguese business has my head spinning.
I was rude a few times because I had no idea anyone was talking to me. Because I don't understand anything they are saying, I just block people out at times. It took people tapping me on the shoulder to get me to respond. I even accidentally walked away from someone at a party yesterday because I didn't know they were talking to me.
Our three days at the beach resulted in only minor sunburns, which is mostly a tan now. Except on my calves, because I didn't put much sunblock there; who gets their calves burnt? I guess I do. The marks are humorous because they are just splotches, like stains across my legs.
One night we went shopping at 2 am, because in this little beach town the stores were all still open. I had the traditional Brazilian drink, which of course I drank too quickly as I drink everything. We walked along the streets, people watching old men walking with young women too pretty and dressed to well to be their daughters and laughed at the stupid things that young boys say when they are drunk or planning to be. We danced in the streets. The samba school (the group playing the music) marched down the street, pausing every so often to thicken the crowd and then move on. I was beside a little boy who could have been about 7 or 8 who was pounding a drum twice his size. Watched a woman dance her heart out, sweating and smiling as she moved. I tried to learn how to samba, I'm not sure how well I did, but it was fun just the same.
I tried to find the Southern Cross, randomly looking up at a figure that could be manipulated into a cross and announced that I had found it. I watched fireworks lighting up the sky and danced to old 80's movie theme songs, listening to the Brasilians butcher the lyrics or watching men dance and spin to "I'm coming out" and "It's raining men".
I feel like my trip is about to end and then remind myself that I still have over three weeks here.