meu nome é Julian...

My favorite preschool story to date...a little boy at snack time told me that he had a new grandma. I said, "oh, really?" and so he proceeded to tell me that his other grandma got sick and then she went to heaven and his grandpa was very, very sad, so he went and got another grandma (like at the mall?).

Friday night some of the girls went out for manicures/pedicures in honor of Clara's birthday (another Pre-K teacher). My pedicure was 13 Reais, or about $6 - $7. Not too bad, though I've already chipped one toenail...baaa. This was followed by a trip to the mall. I have been to a few malls here, though no shopping, just restaurants and banks. Friday, we hit a few stores. Nothing jumped out at me, but it was fun to look (especially at the shoes!). On the way out of the mall, we got tapioca. It looked like they were sprinkling powdered sugar on a skillet and frying it. When they were done, it resembled a very white, very thin tortilla. You can get anything from chicken to cheese to nutella inside and then they fold it over into a pocket. I had mine with chocolate and strawberries. Minha fruta favorita é morango.

Saturday was a tour of the Cidade de São Paulo. We drove to the metro station and rode the metro into the city, first to a cathedral at the city's center (Catedral Metropolitana on the Praça da Sé).

Then we walked through a street market (Vinte Cinco de Marco), where people (LOTS of people walking in the streets with cars honking, trying to drive through the masses) had their wares (underwear, pirated DVDs, socks, pet beds…) out on plastic tarps (this is because when the police come by, they gather all their things and run…I witnessed someone running with their tarp of goods another day when I was downtown with Rosa getting documents), then we headed to an inside market (Mercado Municipal) with lots of fruits, vegetables, and meats for sale and we stopped there for lunch. Next, we headed to an art museum (Pinacoteca) across from the train station (Estação da Luz) and wandered through the exhibits. Next to the art museum was a little park that we walked through…I love parks and even more when I am enjoying trees and flowers and turtles surrounded by buildings and traffic and noise. I appreciate the nature that much more.

From the park we headed to the Avenida Paulista (the main street in Sao Paulo, and a financial and business center). We roamed through a bookstore and went in search of a coffee shop…we eventually found a Starbucks (where their Brazilian grown coffee is supposedly sent to the states to be roasted and then returned to Brazil, pretentious, no?). Then we headed back to the metro and on our way to Clara’s birthday dinner at a Chinese restaurant across town. It was a fun, and very busy day…I slept welllllllll!

Sunday morning at American church I sat down in a pew and noticed a student and her family in front of me, one behind me, and one beside. One of these little ones even ran over to my pew, crawled over the people in between and promptly got all shy and wouldn’t speak…I said hello and commented on how nice he looked in his Sunday clothes and then he returned to his seat. Not thirty seconds later, his sister (whom I’ve never met) came to my pew, crawled over the people in between and promptly got all shy and wouldn't speak. I introduced myself and then she returned to her seat too. I had the sense during the service that I was being watched and it's because I was. I sang and they stared, I got out my Bible and they stared, I greeted those around me and they stared. I sense that this celebrity status may stick with me and my five year olds for a while...the elementary students I work with, however, don't even look me in the eye when I address them at school. Kids are funny.

I went to Portuguese church on Sunday night by myself, as in there was no one there from school that I knew and no one to translate for me (there were actually a lot of other people present, though). Everyone else from school had papers to grade (and I don't, for which I am so thankful!!!) or other things to get done. I really had no reason not to attend, save the fact that I would be going on my own, and I decided that wasn’t a good excuse. I can’t be a baby only three weeks in. They had a greeting time that evening at the beginning of the service (which they haven’t had any of the other weeks I attended), and I just stood there, because I didn’t really get what was going on until people started shaking my hand, hugging me, and kissing me on the cheek. I caught on, more handshakes, more hugging, more kissing. Then we had prayer time (which I expected since we HAVE done this the previous weeks), and a kind older gentlemen came and started talking to me in Portuguese. I said “no fala portugues”…“americana” because in my instance these go together (I don't speak Portuguese...I'm American). He continued to speak to me in Portuguese and I picked up that he was asking my name…which he understood as “Julian” (close enough)…what state I was from…”Indiana”…and that he would pray and then I could pray in "ingles"....compreendo. Another older gentleman, who came in later, motioned to the space beside me, “aqui” and I gathered he wanted to know if he could sit there, so I scooted over (motions and some words in Portuguese = understanding). Otherwise, I listened to the songs, the sermon, looked up “palavras” in my pocket dictionary, followed the Powerpoint with the message, and listened for “ahmen” to cue the end of prayers. I wouldn’t say I understood much more than previous weeks, but I was pleased with myself for having braved it without my translators. God is good, all the time…all the time, God is good. And this I understand, even in small snippets of sermons. Please pray that I would be disciplined in learning and trying out this new language (maybe even sometime with adults and not just the six year olds in my Portuguese class). I know God has a place for me right now as I am learning, encouraging others with not only my words, but mostly my actions. My words may be a barrier for me and many, but smiles are universal!

humble pie...

I joined some first graders in their Portuguese class today as a fellow student (sat in a student desk, filled in the worksheet on "frutas", and was called on by the teacher).  I did use a pen on my worksheets (because that was all I had) and one little girl called me out, inquiring why I got to use a pen (I'll take a pencil next time).  This little one also asked me if I worked at the school and when I told her that I did she said then I must already know Portuguese and why was I in her class.  I only wish her logic about big people knowing stuff was correct.  Today I learned about names of fruits...."Minha fruta favorita é melancia (My favorite fruit is watermelon)."  I may have my humble pie with maçã or pêssego though.  It is always good to be reminded that despite my previous notions, I do not, in fact, know everything (or even close to what some first graders know)!

não compreendo...

There aren’t many things more worrisome than being locked inside a building for which you have no keys, especially when this building has windows with bars (like the REAL big house?). That being said, today I was working in the language lab later than usual (about 6:00 p.m.) trying to set up the computers for our ESL program. One maintenance lady came by and explained to me in Portuguese with some motions that she was locking the back door (I made an assumption from her motions, since I am not yet fluent in Portuguese, that I could still exit the door, but it would just be locked behind me…I was wrong). At this point though, the front door was still unlocked. Then a maintenance guy came by and explained to me in Portuguese with some motions that he was locking the front door, he hesitated (probably because he knew I’d be locked in, but I waved him to go ahead based on my previous assumption that I could still get out from the locked building, so then he probably assumed that I had a key…and he was wrong) and then proceeded to lock the door and latch all the windows (latch, not lock…this will be important). I finished up what I had to do and went to the back door to walk out, catching a glimpse of what appeared to be a deadbolt (and this time I assumed correctly), so I checked the front door and found I could not exit that locked door from the inside either. Soooo, I checked the windows in one room and found bars over them…and I was beginning to feel like I was in a predicament. Before a claustrophobic panic set in, I checked another room and found windows that were juuussst riiiight, no bars, simply latched (not locked), and would open wide enough for me to climb through, so I did and walked right home.

Earlier today, we set out in the school’s VW Gol (with five adult women, see figure 1) for another trip into the city to complete some more documentation, including my work permit, my international driver’s license, and what amounts to a Brazilian version of a social security card (to the best of my understanding).

figure 1 = VW Gol

The latter required a trip to a bank, only the first bank was on strike, the next two were no-goes (though I never heard exactly why, something about computers and branch managers), but the last was juuussst riiight. And it was there that I proceeded to enter the building through the revolving door metal detector (that I thought was simply a revolving door), past the gun-toting security guard, and into our fourth bank of the day. But then the revolving door stopped and I could push no further (though I tried). So I turned back from whence I’d come and was told to take out any metal in my purse and pass back through (sounds simple, but this was really a lengthy exchange between the Portuguese speaking gun-toting security guard, another American, myself, and two Brazilian ladies from the school who were already on the other side of the revolving door and trying to tell me through a glass window not to put my WHOLE purse into the box (which I did first), just the metal objects (which I did after). We were eventually all admitted into the bank and we got what we needed and were on our way at 1:45 p.m. Good news, except that I was supposed to be teaching pre-school that afternoon, starting at 12:45 p.m. and I hadn’t told any of the other pre-school teachers that I would be gone that morning because I believed I’d be back by the afternoon and didn’t have any means to contact them en route (to be fair, I was back by the afternoon, it was just more after noon than I had planned). Since it was 1:45, we had also missed lunch at the school, so we stopped at a rodizio (an all-you-can-eat restaurant, we were already late, might as well enjoy lunch), but this rodizio was per kilo, meaning that they weigh your plate and you pay according to how much your plate of food weighs (I thought that was interesting...). We ended up back at school around 2:30 and I made my way to pre-school in time to finish the Bible lesson, though all my supplies were in the language lab in another building (see first paragraph about said language lab) because I didn’t have time to stop and get them. We finished a story sequence activity that the other teacher had already started and then we sang (I have found singing songs with motions is an excellent time filler for my little ones)…”My God is so great, so strong and so mighty, there’s NOTHING my God cannot do!” (as evidenced by the fact that I am not still in the revolving door at the bank or locked in the language lab at school). All’s well that ends well! (and at least I didn’t have to take today’s trips from the VW’s back seat, in the middle, with my feet on the hump…because when I tried to be thoughtful and take my turn in the back middle seat, I was told that the driver wouldn’t be able to see over my big head). Sooo, all’s well that ends well, and in the process, I was afforded plenty of leg room for the journey!

futebol gol...

I played soccer the other night because I was convinced by my roommate that it would be a fun time.  When I say that I "played" soccer, I mean I ran around aimlessly and sometimes the ball bumped into my foot.  By "ran" I mean walked or stood in what I claimed as my “zone.”  There’s such a thing as zone defense, yes?  Zone offense?  How about “I’m staying in this space because I don’t know why we sometimes stand behind the line, sometimes on the line, sometimes kick it in from the side, sometimes kick it in from the corner and I like it right here where I’m standing” zone?  I did have fun, no one took it too seriously, which is exactly how I prefer to play sports, no audience, no expectations, no athletic skills whatsoever.  I did happen to make a goal (meaning I was standing in my “zone” near the goal and the ball bounced off my foot into the goal).  I didn’t screw it up by exerting energy and kicking the ball in the opposite direction of the goal, out of bounds, or to the other team (and I did all those things at several other points during the game), so I suppose I can claim some credit, but by most accounts it was a fortunate coincidence.  I came to the game believing it would be some soccer and some volleyball, but an hour and a half later we were still playing soccer, even after one team member had to go home and put her kids to bed, one got hit in the face, and one twisted an ankle.  Yet...the game continued (we stopped for a moment when my teammate got hit in the face and the other team asked, “are you okay? yes? it’s our ball then.”)  So when I said it wasn’t a serious game, maybe I meant I wasn’t serious, because some of these ladies in their soccer jerseys were serious about playing until the cows came home (or 9:30, which happened to come first)…no blood, no foul.  Next time the soccer jerseys will be my first clue.

On Saturday, I got a call from the husband of a lady I work with at the school.  He called at 11:00 and asked if I wanted to join he and his wife for an Italian lunch at 11:30 and if any of my roommates were at home then one of them could join us too (but there was only room for one).  My roommates were already heading out for the afternoon so they didn't have to draw straws, but I certainly wasn't going to turn down an invitation for food.  This lovely Brazilian couple drove me to downtown Sao Paulo to an Italian restaurant, where we had bread with red peppers, toasted bread with cheese, toasted bread with tomatoes, toasted bread with garlic, salad, spaetzle-type noodles with sausage and a breaded meat that took up half of my large plate...then, Pudim de Leite (milk pudding that is a traditional Brazilian dish) for dessert.  I was literally full until the next day, not just not hungry, full.  During dinner, I was asked how I would describe the husband to someone else.  Being that he is a big guy, I focused my description on his beard and glasses.  He asked then if I would also say that he was fat...I sputtered and he laughed.  His wife said he likes to mess with Americans because we feel badly for calling someone fat, but Brazilians would not hesitate to use that physical description (or call out any other physical characteristic of a person, so I was told).  He also asked me if I had a boyfriend, and when I said I did not, he asked if I would be looking for a Brazilian boyfriend...more sputtering.  He said that some American girls very firmly state that they do not want a Brazilian boyfriend, and that hurts his feelings as a Brazilian.  I certainly got an education Saturday afternoon at an Italian restaurant with two native Brazilians.  On the way home, they took me by a huge cathedral, the tribune, by several old Catholic, Presbyterian, and Methodist churches, by a college that was begun by the Jesuits before the city started, and by the older downtown where the zero mark is, or the beginning of the city (all of the city streets are measured from this point).  I forgot my camera (since I didn't know an afternoon tour was also on the menu), but I will now take my camera with me everywhere I go and become that girl that people roll their eyes at for taking pictures of anything and everything.  That is my next week's resolution.

Saturday night we "sprang forward" on our clocks because it is spring in this hemisphere.  So much for being an hour different than home, now it's two (and when daylight savings takes effect in the states, three).  Last Sunday morning my computer and iPod clocks both "fell back" automatically (for reasons unbeknownst to me), so I was ready at 9:00 to leave for church and went to knock on my roommate's door to see why she wasn't ready.  She wasn't ready because it was actually 8:00 and it was still an hour before we had to leave for church...oops.  This Sunday I got it right.  We went to American church in the morning, followed by a trip to Wal-mart (same signs, same blue vests, only half an aisle of cereal, which disappointed me), and Portuguese church in the evening.  I got a funny fruit at Wal-mart that my Brazilian roommate suggested, a pinha.  I haven't tried it yet, but it looks like this...

Another Brazilian treat that my roommate has made for us a few times is brigadeiro (chocolate balls).  Her recipe (in her precise words)...1 can sweeten condensed milk, 1 (big old) spoon of butter, 2 (big old) spoons of Nestle Quik cocoa powder, cook on low heat until it pulls away from the pan (keep stirring continually), let cool, roll into balls, and roll in sprinkles.  Nothing made with chocolate and a lot of butter can be bad!

Tomorrow is a new week, I'll begin with my elementary ESL students this week and continue with my pre-schoolers.  I found colored noodles and M&M's at Wal-mart to work on patterns with my pre-schoolers!  I also saw one of my pre-schoolers at church this morning and he waved enthusiastically and yelled Mrs. Julia, Mrs. Julia (with their accent it sounds like Mrs. Zhulia, Mrs. Zhulia, and I have no idea how Miss turned to Mrs.)!  I love them all already!

obrigada, obrigada, obrigada...

I woke up this morning with the intention of getting ready quickly, eating breakfast quickly, and getting to school early.  I did get ready, eat breakfast, and get to school, but not quickly or early, and I actually ate my breakfast walking.  So my bed was not made, my wardrobe indecisiveness lay in piles all over my room,  and my bathroom was in a state of "people are knocking on my door because I am supposed to be already walking to a meeting and I'm still in the bathroom putting on mascara."  My family knows that coming home to a HOUSE where anything is out of place bothers me, but a BEDROOM that looks like it was struck by an F5 tornado doesn't particularly phase me (just close the door and go to another part of the house where everything is put away...this philosophy may seem contradictory, but it makes sense to me).  However, upon arriving home today, I found that my bed was made, my clothes were all folded, my bathroom was tidy, and everything was precisely the opposite of how I had left it that morning.  I did know that a maid would come each week and clean at the "Big House."  I, however, figured she would just sweep a little, maybe clean the bathroom tiles, take out trash...I did not think she would tidy up all of the things that I had not bothered to tidy myself.  I felt bad.  I'm an adult and I can clean up after myself.  That doesn't mean I don't appreciate or like that someone else cleaned up after me, because I like it very much, and this is a new feeling, as I did not grow up in a household where things were cleaned up for me.  You get it out, you put it away, you mess it up, you clean it up.  So I will be very thankful every Tuesday for Maria going "above and beyond"...and I'll probably tidy up my room on Monday nights.

This morning I headed off to the Federal Police with Rosa again, and this time three other ladies joined us.  I have found that I thoroughly enjoy hearing other people's stories about how they ended up in Brazil and what they like/dislike about living here (really, I like hearing other people's stories anywhere about anything, because I'm a girl and I'm nosy and I like to know other people's business)....which makes me wonder why the rest of you aren't all writing blogs and telling ME all about what you ate for breakfast and what you've accomplished in life after the most important meal of the day???  Anyhow, we stopped at the Federal Police and picked up whatever it was that I needed there and then headed to the "Ministerio of something to do with the government" in downtown Sao Paulo to get work permits, or something to that effect.  Again, Rosa gets everything together and I smile and nod, step up to counter when I'm told, sit down when I'm told, shhhh when I'm told I'm being a loud American in a little Brazilian office.  We stopped on our way home from these errands so that I could have my first Brazilian coffee (the other ladies were aghast that I had been here 6 whole days and had not yet had Brazilian coffee).  When I say coffee, I really mean half coffee, half milk, and sugar (cafe com leite).  For a non-coffee drinker who is pretty ignorant about good and bad coffee, I think this was pretty good for what amounted to about 70 cents for a juice glass full of coffee (and milk) on an 80 degree day.  When we returned to school, I made my way to the preschool where I spent the afternoon with my new little friends.  One of these dear little ones asked me this afternoon if I had a baby.  I replied that I did not, hoping that he had babies on the brain since one of his other teachers is eight months pregnant, and not because I look like I am eight months pregnant too.  He later told me that when HE gets older, HE is going to have a baby in HIS tummy too (as he patted his tummy for emphasis).  I told him that  he would not be having a baby in his tummy and promptly changed the subject (I have not heard that it is in my job description to explain this to him, so I'm not going to).  I'm going to chalk it up to babies on the brain, and continue to believe that I do not look like I'm with child.  That will help me sleep at night.

I'm still waiting to hear what you did today...

segunda-feira, segunda-feira...

I had my first opportunity to grocery shop on Sunday after "American" church.  I was told the store we were going to was the most American of any of the stores around, so if I couldn't handle it, I was out of luck (though it was spoken much more kindly).  I found out quickly that "oferta" equals sale and that red price tags at this store are mark-downs...that was all I needed to know.  My mother and our frugal friend Richard would be proud of me.  I didn't really get anything interesting, bananas, yogurt, milk, though I noticed big "Bugs Bunny" type carrots were much less expensive than bagged baby carrots, so I bought the cartoon carrots and I will enjoy them even more because they were cheaper.  I also had my first experience with pizza this weekend at Casa de Pizza (House of Pizza, Pizza House).  I had some with hearts of palm (I think) that wasn't too bad and one with chocolate and bananas that was sooooooooo good!  I will have dreams about chocolate and banana pizza for weeks to come.  

Sunday night was Portuguese church.  I understood "pouco" (little, not much), but I did recognize a few of the tunes to the songs that were sung.  I picked up Deus = God, palavras = words (Rosa wouldn't let me move on from this word at our Friday, waiting for the Federal Police, lesson until I quit saying it wrong), Espirito Santo = Holy Spirit, obrigado/a = thank you, vitorioso = victory, vida = life.  I was pretty pleased with myself, though without the pastor's Powerpoint and my Portuguese dictionary, it might not have turned out as well.  I also found that the church takes recyclables to raise money for different ministries, and the alternative was to throw my plastics, cans, and paper into the trash, which I JUST CANNOT DO....and now I don't have to.  I also was educated about some regional creatures, like cockroaches (who come out in masses between October and July...hmm, most of the year) and a possum who made its way through a broken dryer's vent into the house I now occupy.  I did hear that cockroaches have rarely been found in the houses around where I live and that the possum couldn't possibly get in now that the dryer has long been fixed...but it gives one pause, and the mind worries, frets even, over worst-case scenarios where possums and cockroaches frolic all over my living, eating, and sleeping space.  I suppose it could be worse.  I could have actually seen these creatures in my house instead of merely hearing of the possibility.  So far I have seen just a small spider, no big deal...unless his mama is hiding in my sock drawer.

Today is a holiday (no school) because yesterday was "Children's Day"...the kids all got whistles (looouuuud whistles), candy, and sweets at church.  Today is sunny and 80-ish, I have traded my layers of socks and sweatshirts for sandals and shorts, jealous?

uma americana ignorante...

I have arrived in Brazil, without much incident, though if you thought it was good idea to pack all your heavy stuff in your carry-on because they don't weigh carry-ons, you'd be wrong. They don't weigh them, you just have to be able to lift it into the overhead bin by yourself, and I could not. I did ask for help from the stewardess and she said they aren't allowed to lift things, so she said I should find some big guy and ask for his help...um, okay, then. A nice, big enough, guy did offer to help me hoist it in and then I just waited until everyone was off when we landed and climbed on the seat and dragged it down myself. My handle only fell off my too-heavy carry-on a few times (read 8-10 times) between security, boarding, de-boarding, and re-boarding...I'm sure other people got a chuckle out of it at my expense. That was all before I left Chicago. In Chicago I asked at the desk if there was anything I could do with my very heavy, broken-handled bag filled with books for school children and the attendant gladly gave me a tag and told me to leave it before I boarded and I could pick it up when we arrived in Brazil, so I didn't have to worry about it all during that leg of the trip! I even got two seats to myself during that 12 hour-ish stretch, which was verrry nice. The attendant had told me to get my too-heavy broken-handled carry-on as soon as I got off the plane in Brazil, except that it wasn't there, and through a series of charades with the only Portuguese-speaking baggage clerk and my only English-speaking self I discovered I shouldn't wait for my carry-on to get off the plane, but, I assumed from the charades, should pick it up with my other checked bags (fortunately, I assumed correctly). I managed to get all four of my 70 pound bags plus my too heavy carry-on onto one cart all by myself...I'm sure it was a sight to see me struggle, but I did it and I got my cart all the way to customs before I had to take them all off to be scanned and put them all back on (with some help this time). Two ladies from the school, Jen and Linda, were there to greet me and we were on our way in Linda's smallish hatchback (Toyota Prius size, if only slightly larger) and my excessive luggage.

You can say a prayer for a woman I met on my flight from Chicago to Brazil named Theresa. She is Brazilian and she and her family were flying to Rio for her father's funeral. She asked lots of questions about the school where I would be teaching, so I got to tell her a little about PACA being a Christian school started for missionary families and what I would be doing there. She told me that she and her family are Catholic. She said she and her son will be staying for a while with her mother in Brazil and then she will head home to Tucson, Arizona. I told her that I would be praying for her and her family, so please say a prayer that God would provide others to be a source of encouragement for her and her family during this difficult time, both in Brazil and when she returns home to Arizona.

Upon my arrival on Wednesday, I was shown all around the school and introduced to a number of people whose names I promptly forgot. The weather has pretty consistently been chilly (50's and low 60's) and drizzly, so everyone I met has apologized for the crummy weather and told me it would get better. I told them it was cold and drizzly in Indiana when I left so I was used to it, though the biggest adjustment here is that there is no inside heating, so cold outside equals cold inside. I wear lots of socks. I got to eat a traditional school lunch on Wednesday of black beans, what appeared to be sausage, and rice. It was good, I've found there isn't much I won't eat thanks to my mother's rule that we try anything and everything without complaining, no matter what it looks like or smells like (and my siblings and I had some theories about what the canned plums my mother served us actually were, think small, roundish, wrinkly, and brain-like...our imaginations ran wild). I had lots of help bringing all my bags into my house here, affectionately called the "The Big House," because it is big and not because it is jail, though there are bars on the windows :) My roommates had left me several welcome signs and a room full of balloons (fun at first, not so fun when you're kicking them out of the way to get your things put away). I have three roommates, Jean (teaches M.S./H.S. math), Claryssa (teaches 2nd grade), and Christine (teaches 3rd grade). I think we will get along just fine, not least of all, because we all have our own rooms and own bathrooms. They are all very nice and have gone out of their way to make me feel welcome, they even got me an antimofo (a box of anti-mold something), so mold doesn't grow on my clothes and shoes, very thoughtful since I don't like to smell like toxic mold on a regular basis. I've spent the last few days resting and getting all my things put away (and discovering that my four suitcases of stuff doesn't seem like as much now that it's all spread out and put away), I managed to turn my sheet into a curtain and my scarf into a table runner in an attempt to make my room look less like what I lived in as an 18 year old college freshman...necessity really is the mother of invention. The other teachers were busy this week getting ready for parent/teacher conferences on Friday, and it was nice not to have that responsibility, though I will have the advantage of their three day weekend following :) I realize that many of you believe that since I have spent the better part of 3 months resting and getting my things packed up in the states, that now that I'm here I should be working, um, now, immediately...and I will, in time, in time :) I spent Friday morning at the Federal Police, getting more pictures, fingerprints, and forms, and I know there will be at least 2 more trips like this to get a work permit and set up my bank account. A lady from the school named Rosa did all the work gathering my forms and speaking to the officials, I just smiled, nodded when necessary, and held my hands out for fingerprints. Rosa also helped me with my Portuguese while we waited, which didn't take too long, because I know nothing. Even the things I thought I knew, like hello, thank you, and good day all turned out to be wrong, but I've since learned...hello = oi, thank you = obrigada (for girls, not obrigado, which is for boys and got me a few funny looks and smirks when I used it), and good day = bom dia (pronounced bom gia, again with the funny looks). Some of the other teachers and my roommates took me out to dinner last night at a place called Rascals in a huge, fancy mall. They had a nice salad bar complete with artichokes, quail eggs, salmon, fresh mozzarella, and every different kind of lettuce imaginable. I also had a wonderful dessert called Petit Gateau, which I think is French, and was a chocolate cake with ice cream and mango puree, verrrry good. I'll begin teaching next week, though I did go a few times and see the preschool and ESL classrooms, and met a few of the preschool students and teachers. It has been a while since I worked with such young students, I forget how cute all their stuff is, cute little tables, cute little chairs, cute little boys and girls running around when they're supposed to be getting ready for a nap. I really am excited to start working with them, I think my main responsibilities will be teaching math and Bible in the preschool class and then working with ESL students. Tomorrow is church, I was told that Brazilian churches traditionally meet on Sunday evenings instead of Sunday mornings, so I may be able to try an American church in the morning and a Brazilian church in the evening.

Thank you all so much for your prayers, I really had a good flight, safe travels, many, many, many helpful colleagues who go above and beyond to make me feel welcome, and several good days of rest before I'll start teaching, all blessings. Continue to pray that I would be disciplined in learning and practicing Portuguese, as I am acutely aware that I know basically nothing and hearing all the little preschoolers chatter in a language that I do not understand makes me a bit nervous. Pray that I would know what to prepare as I begin teaching preschool and ESL, especially ESL because I have no experience in that area and am not certain what to expect. Pray that I would be an encouragement to those I meet (and that I would learn names quickly, as anything that follows "hey, you" doesn't seem to be as uplifting), and especially to my roommates, colleagues, and students.