This is a personal recollection of pretty much everything I did in preparation for my 20 mile training run earlier today. Enjoy, I find it amusing. Running used to be very simple for me. Throw on some clothes and walk over to the nuclear assembly building that was home to LCU's recreation facility. Run for 30 minutes on a treadmill, use an elliptical/stair climber/stationary bike for 15-20 minutes and then walk back to my dorm feeling awful because I was so out of shape aerobically. Now I go through all this:
Last night I trimmed my toe nails and carb loaded with my favorite pasta and beverage and made sure to get some extra calories with Ben and Jerry. I made sure to get my beauty sleep and stayed in bed in and out of sleep until 11am. When I arose, I began guzzling water followed by consuming a 20g protein bar. Then was the stress of checking the weather and deciding what to wear. 5 years ago it would have been a t-shirt and a pair of generic basketball shorts. Now I have an overflowing box of technical wicking fabrics of all colors and from many events. I chose thigh length tights, asic warm-up pants (the ones I muddied yesterday on a 10 mile bike ride), and my OKC long sleeve tee. I chose thin double layer polyester blend socks, superfeet berry insoles, Asics gel Kayano sneaks, garmin 305 training partner, iPod, Cliff black cherry Shot Blocks, GU Roctane blueberry pomegranate and vanilla orange, ID and cell phone and of course a University of Texas hat to top things off. I applied Body Glide to shoulders, inner thighs (think Juno) and feet. I ate an English muffin with preserves and a glass of vanilla chai and soy protein. And as I finished my drink, mentally preparing, the time was coming. It was 12:40pm. 20 miles needed to be conquered.
I put my shoes on and fastened my Garmin watch. Something felt wrong with my shoes and it dawned on me as I stood outside stretching my calves, I had forgotten to put the superfeet in my shoes and I didn't have a sock liner in them yet either. Good thing I realized that before going anywhere. So I walked back in to correct that glitch. I went back outside powering on the training partner and realizing that the sun was out and as I began to jog away from the house, my cell phone and iPod bouncing in my asics pocket that I would do better with shorts on a day like today. So back I went into the house to put on shorts and repack my electronics and fuel into a waist pack (not to be mistaken for a fannie pack).
Now it was 1pm and I really needed to get going. So I did. I ran 5 miles to Caribou in Wheaton for some water and fuel. Then I ran 5 miles to I-355 and ate more fuel, without water (the fountains haven't been turned on yet). At mile 12, I really needed to find water so I made an unexpected stop at the Glen Elyn Starbucks. Then it was off to Wheaton to stop in at Caribou for the final H2O and fuel break at mile 15. I ran along Main in West Chicago across 59 to the Burger King because I learned years ago, in Manhattan, that you can find Dr. Pepper on fountain there, even in the North. Success. I arrived at BK right at 20 miles, got a large DP and called my Kansas City buddy Rachel because I first talked to her last year after my 20 miler.
Upon arriving at home, I put on a kettle of water to boil and located my Epsom salt. I was going to have a hot soak in the bath. Maybe I should have had an ice bath for inflammation but I was happier taking some meds for that and enjoying a pleasant bath. I drank more protein stuff and watched the ER finale while cooking some mashed potatoes.
Now I'll end my day reading some Theroux, hoping that my feet and knees will feel like working tomorrow. At least I'll be around people who know well the feeling of recovering from a difficult workout.
So yeah, that's how to run 20 miles. Now you try....
Showing posts with label fun stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fun stories. Show all posts
Saturday, April 04, 2009
Saturday, January 31, 2009
I hate the airline industry
January 5th I flew to Portland. January 10th I flew back to Lubbock. January 15th I flew to Chicago. January 20th I flew back to Lubbock. I fly often and I've never received a free flight through frequent flier programs. I even fly internationally.
On the flight to Portland the first leg of the trip, from Lubbock to Dallas was delayed 5 hours. I only arrived 3 hours late to Portland but regardless it was a long day, 12 hours spent behind security checkpoints. I didn't write about the return flight so I can't specifically recall anything the airline messed up with. I do know that flying hurts by back so I had taken a muscle relaxer and felt like I was on a theme park ride over the Rockey Mountains stretching from Mt. Hood over Salt Lake, Fort Junction, and ending at Pike's Peak. The plane flew low for the size and distance and it was a perfectly clear day. The pilot was also great about announcing which mountains we would be able to see and which cities we would be going over. The only annoyance I had on this trip was with the cost of airport food.
On the flight to Chicago, the first leg I rode with my dad. The flight was a bit delayed. They had reassigned his flight without him knowing and at the last minute we realized and had the attendants switch it back. During out wait however there was a huge chess set with pieces more than 3' tall. We didn't have time to finish the game, which is a good thing actually. The jet bridge in Lubbock was broken and still appeared to be unfixed on the 20th when I came back through. This meant that we had to go down the stairs and across the tarmac to board the plane. Not an issue really for us but at least one of the passengers was in a wheel chair. Because of the short delay by the time we reached Dallas my next flight was already boarding so I had to hurry to the other terminal and get going. We made great time to Chicago, saving off more than an hour of flight time but we had to wait on the ground for 30 minutes for an open gate, then another hour to discover that the sky bridge had frozen to death. It was after all -10 degrees and mechanical errors must be more likely but to add to the issue, the people on the ground would spend 5 minutes outside then 15 inside warming up so there wasn't much ground assistance to further slow the process. Eventually the plane was pushed closer to the Jet Bridge and a makeshift bridge extender was erected for us to get safely into the airport. I was most troubled by this because I really had to use the bathroom. I didn't have any time in Dallas and didn't feel like crawling over the people sitting on my row during the flight. But after waiting so long, I finally disobeyed the seat belt lights tyring to control the disgruntled passengers, jumped luggage and took care of my business. Less upset after this annoyance was done away with.
On the final return flight, all was going well until Dallas. This was inauguration day and I had the benefit of being able to watch the balls while waiting through gate changes and delays. It was a really late flight in the first place, the last one out to Lubbock. There had been three gate changes and at one point the attendants started to board the plane and then mechanics sent the passengers back out because the plane had a broken armrest that was apparently a safety hazard. We patiently waited 40 minutes before being allowed to board again. This was a little twin prop airplane and we sat on the ground for what felt like 30 minutes warming up the engines and propellers. We started to taxi out to the runway and then at the last minute turned around. The passengers were informed that the pilot was already at 14+ hours and would timeout before arriving at out destination. There is an FAA regulation that pilots cannot work over 16 hours in a 24 hour time period. So we were brought back to the airport and given new flight assignments to go out the next day. We were given hotel vouchers for a hotel suite bigger than my apartment and $10 of airport money for any food place. I was scheduled for the first flight out to Lubbock that next morning and didn't get more than 4 hours in my hotel room that night. Once arriving in Lubbock my luggage didn't arrive with me. Here I am very mad. I give the attendants my information and they give me a number to call to see if it has been located. I call when they tell me to a few hours later and the automated voice says that my stuff is not yet located. Thankfully, sometime that night while I'm at work I receive a message from my dad that it has been delivered to their house. So there was finally resolution to the awful ordeal.
I hate the airline industry. But at least I didn't have this happen to my flight:
This was a FedEx crash at the Lubbock airport January 27th at 4:30AM. The 27th was an icy day much like the 5th, when I flew to Portland. At least I haven't had to land in Lubbock on a really icy day. One more reason to stay in town for a while. I gave my car a wash yesterday. It is a trusty vehicle that doesn't leave the ground the the only delays are caused by me. I can handle that.
On the flight to Portland the first leg of the trip, from Lubbock to Dallas was delayed 5 hours. I only arrived 3 hours late to Portland but regardless it was a long day, 12 hours spent behind security checkpoints. I didn't write about the return flight so I can't specifically recall anything the airline messed up with. I do know that flying hurts by back so I had taken a muscle relaxer and felt like I was on a theme park ride over the Rockey Mountains stretching from Mt. Hood over Salt Lake, Fort Junction, and ending at Pike's Peak. The plane flew low for the size and distance and it was a perfectly clear day. The pilot was also great about announcing which mountains we would be able to see and which cities we would be going over. The only annoyance I had on this trip was with the cost of airport food.
On the flight to Chicago, the first leg I rode with my dad. The flight was a bit delayed. They had reassigned his flight without him knowing and at the last minute we realized and had the attendants switch it back. During out wait however there was a huge chess set with pieces more than 3' tall. We didn't have time to finish the game, which is a good thing actually. The jet bridge in Lubbock was broken and still appeared to be unfixed on the 20th when I came back through. This meant that we had to go down the stairs and across the tarmac to board the plane. Not an issue really for us but at least one of the passengers was in a wheel chair. Because of the short delay by the time we reached Dallas my next flight was already boarding so I had to hurry to the other terminal and get going. We made great time to Chicago, saving off more than an hour of flight time but we had to wait on the ground for 30 minutes for an open gate, then another hour to discover that the sky bridge had frozen to death. It was after all -10 degrees and mechanical errors must be more likely but to add to the issue, the people on the ground would spend 5 minutes outside then 15 inside warming up so there wasn't much ground assistance to further slow the process. Eventually the plane was pushed closer to the Jet Bridge and a makeshift bridge extender was erected for us to get safely into the airport. I was most troubled by this because I really had to use the bathroom. I didn't have any time in Dallas and didn't feel like crawling over the people sitting on my row during the flight. But after waiting so long, I finally disobeyed the seat belt lights tyring to control the disgruntled passengers, jumped luggage and took care of my business. Less upset after this annoyance was done away with.
On the final return flight, all was going well until Dallas. This was inauguration day and I had the benefit of being able to watch the balls while waiting through gate changes and delays. It was a really late flight in the first place, the last one out to Lubbock. There had been three gate changes and at one point the attendants started to board the plane and then mechanics sent the passengers back out because the plane had a broken armrest that was apparently a safety hazard. We patiently waited 40 minutes before being allowed to board again. This was a little twin prop airplane and we sat on the ground for what felt like 30 minutes warming up the engines and propellers. We started to taxi out to the runway and then at the last minute turned around. The passengers were informed that the pilot was already at 14+ hours and would timeout before arriving at out destination. There is an FAA regulation that pilots cannot work over 16 hours in a 24 hour time period. So we were brought back to the airport and given new flight assignments to go out the next day. We were given hotel vouchers for a hotel suite bigger than my apartment and $10 of airport money for any food place. I was scheduled for the first flight out to Lubbock that next morning and didn't get more than 4 hours in my hotel room that night. Once arriving in Lubbock my luggage didn't arrive with me. Here I am very mad. I give the attendants my information and they give me a number to call to see if it has been located. I call when they tell me to a few hours later and the automated voice says that my stuff is not yet located. Thankfully, sometime that night while I'm at work I receive a message from my dad that it has been delivered to their house. So there was finally resolution to the awful ordeal.
I hate the airline industry. But at least I didn't have this happen to my flight:
This was a FedEx crash at the Lubbock airport January 27th at 4:30AM. The 27th was an icy day much like the 5th, when I flew to Portland. At least I haven't had to land in Lubbock on a really icy day. One more reason to stay in town for a while. I gave my car a wash yesterday. It is a trusty vehicle that doesn't leave the ground the the only delays are caused by me. I can handle that.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
almost over
I can't promise I will write any more blogs during my time in Rio. I will write lots I assume once I return and am trying to make since of my time in this place. But for now, I'm pretty busy both with normal ministry activities as well as additional end of our time stuff like Christmas parties, farewell parties, debriefing retreat, and growing desire to spend time with our Brazilian friends. Today was a bit out of the ordinary as far as ordinary days go. I'll try to capture a few moments from it for you now.
Today, being Wednesday, was a long day of work. We were up a bit before 8am to make cafe de manha (breakfast-meaning coffee) and head out to catch a onîbus (bus) to Lapa (an area of downtown where the Missionaries of Charity is located). The bus didn't come right away. It seemed like every other possible bus had passed by several times before a very full bus that would take us where we wanted to go arrived. We had to stand about half the 45 minute commute and when I finally sat it was in the back row (5 across) and I got stuck in the very middle between two men. One was asleep and seemed to seemed to drift more and more onto me. Finally the man on the other side of me got off the bus and I got to sit on the crack between two seats so the sleepy man wasn't leaning on me anymore.
We arrived at MoC and say hi to all the wonderful old women who cook amazing almoça (lunch) on Wednesdays. We tell them that this week we have brought the sobremasas (desert), it is chocolate bolo, but we like to call it Brownies. After that anouncement, we joined the Sister from Rowanda to help with the laundry. She told me happy birthday in both English and Portuguese and asked if I danced for the party. She really likes dancing but I think that pleasure is a bit stiffled if you are a nun, but of course I can't be sure. A little later after the laundry is done and after we learn how to get coco (coconut) out of a dried green oblong shaped ball and how to then shave it like what you would find on the baking isle of a grocery store, the sisters let us try some candied coco. It was heavenly. Then they said to take it home with us to share with the other Americanos. After more time has passed and we have prayed with the cooks and eaten their amazing meal of rice and beans and noodles, and mean and salad and pineapple they get to try our brownies that we have been trying to make and give them for over a month now.
After MoC we get on another bus and ride 30 minutes or so to Tijuca, another area of town between DT and where we live. We check the mail box, nothing for me, then walk to Projeta Vidinha (the orphanage). Kids are eating lunch. IN (a 10 year old boy) is playing with the four little kittens with a clothes hanger. B (2 year old girl) is in a great mood and having my head be a race track for a matchbox like car. R (8 year old boy) is obediently eating. No other little kids there at the time. We take them to the main room after they eat to play a memory card game. It works for a bit before the other Americans on staff show up with their baby. B is playing with markers and stealing our cards. T (6 year old boy) and PV (8, boy) arrive. R has started to cheat. IN is rearranging the cards. R is becoming more obsinate each minute. Finally the other Americans who can speak excelent Portuguese come in and give the kids more direction. Now they will create Christmas cards for their American sponsors. Last week they created cards for their Brazilian sponsors. So because of this repitition they weren't very excited or engaged in the assignment. IN followed directions well once he possisioned himself on the other side of the room from me and requested marker colors he needed in Portuguese and had me throw them across the room to him back and forth. R just wasn't having a real good day and kept pouting. The other boys T and PV focused for a total of 10 minutes. Once they were done so were Heather and myself. The house quickly became chaotic again with kids trying to use us as jugle gyms, yelling and fighting each other. All the while I'm locking in having to throw markers across the room at IN. Three and a half hours of being in this house finally pass and we decide we've had enough and need to get home for the evening. We get directions for the next day from the American staff then start saying our good-byes to the kids. I ask little B for a hug in good enough Portuguese for her to have no doubt about my request for a hug, I said, "Eu preciso uma abrasar." She got a really big smile on her face, opens wide her little arms and flings herself at my chest. I'm squatting on the floor so it's perfect. Then the other kids see me within their reach so before I know it PV and T and R are all on my back. This frustrates me as much as it makes me feel loved and appreciated. We finally leave and tell the kids we will see them again Friday for Enlgish class.
So we leave and hobble like wounded soldiers the half mile or more to the bus stop more aware than ever of the toll that being in a forein country, doing manual labor, and working with kids has on a person. The bus this time is another 45 minutes and I settle in comfortably by Heather and start to drift to sleep (not deep sleep but just kinda nodding off now and again). We get off and walk home another 1/2 mile through the favela. At home Heather and I part ways, her to the internet cafe and I to the roof of our house.
At the roof, I take "Announcing the Reign of God" a book we will be discussing as a group tomorrow that I haven't finished yet. I also have my water bottle and disposable camera hoping to catch a good sunset and noticing that the neighbor kids are trying to get their kites to take flight. I love watching the flight of their little kites. It looks like a lot of work but well worth it. One of the kids has a roof like ours that is really tall above all the buildings around it. The other is under several clothes lines and has taller buildings on three sides so it's much more difficult to get a kite to fly from such a position. I watch them struggle for a while and then I hear teenage girl voices behind me and realize the kids from a couple houses down are joining me on my roof. I recognize them but have never had conversations with them before. Now I speak more and am up for the challence. T (14 year old girl) asks to see/use my cameral. I let her. She takes a picture of her friends. Then one of me confussed that she has so quickly figured out how my camera works, I will trash that one once I get them developed. Then she takes one of her friends and me with the mountains and kites in the backgrownd. We talk a bit about names, ages, where I'm from, do I have a boyfriend, my favorite types of music, and that was about all. Then the oldest starts beating up on T. Not really sure why but it destroys our moment of conversation and they find their way back to their own roof.
I look up after this and see the kids have finally sucessfully gotten their kite flying. I hollar PARABANS! (congratulations) at them and the girls I was talking to start laughing of course. Just as quickly as the kite takes flight it seems to crash back down so I decide I can probably invite them over to my roof because it is so much better possitioned for flying a kite but no kids live here to do the honors. So I hollar over again "vocês pode vam car aqui com suas peples." please excuse my spelling I'm not sure of my accuracy with Portuguese spelling but this is my attempt to say "Ya'll can come over here with your kite." They act like they understand and seem to say, really? After one attempt the kid runs downstairs and looks like he's asking mom for permission but then returns to the roof and resumes flight there. So I give up and just enjoy the sunset with the kids still trying to fly their beautifle kite for a long time. Heather joins me after a while with her camera also. I share a cookie with her that I got last night at my birthday party.
Then we go downstairs and evaluate our options for super. We are now out of noodles, out of rice, out of meat, cheese, we have two eggs, some slightly moldy bread, and good spices. I have no money. I have just enough money for the bus fair until we get paid Friday morning. I have so little spare money that I have been borrowing toothpaste and soap all week. I made the mistake of going out to eat Chinese food with Lisa on our birthday. It was worth it but now I have no extra. We don't get much money to live on, which is good. About 1/3 of the R$100 we get goes to transportation. The rest basically covers our food. But then we always end up doing things during the week with our Brazilian friends and nothing is cheap. So we decide to make egg sandwiches with curry and tabasco. Heather has some spare money and buys two slices of cheese. She is very generous to me. Most of her weekly allowance probably went to my birthday celebrations. I decide to contribute to the meal by sharing some Crystal Light to go Cherry packets with her. It is a really good meal.
After eating I came to the Lan House where I am at the moment. I hope you enjoy my day. So ordinary and yet so amazing. I really love Brazil. I love Rio. I love my teammates and friends. I really love the favela. And I thank God for drawing me to this place in relationship with all these people. Thanks for reading. I'll be back to Texas in two and a half weeks and to Chicago at the first of the year.
Tchou
Today, being Wednesday, was a long day of work. We were up a bit before 8am to make cafe de manha (breakfast-meaning coffee) and head out to catch a onîbus (bus) to Lapa (an area of downtown where the Missionaries of Charity is located). The bus didn't come right away. It seemed like every other possible bus had passed by several times before a very full bus that would take us where we wanted to go arrived. We had to stand about half the 45 minute commute and when I finally sat it was in the back row (5 across) and I got stuck in the very middle between two men. One was asleep and seemed to seemed to drift more and more onto me. Finally the man on the other side of me got off the bus and I got to sit on the crack between two seats so the sleepy man wasn't leaning on me anymore.
We arrived at MoC and say hi to all the wonderful old women who cook amazing almoça (lunch) on Wednesdays. We tell them that this week we have brought the sobremasas (desert), it is chocolate bolo, but we like to call it Brownies. After that anouncement, we joined the Sister from Rowanda to help with the laundry. She told me happy birthday in both English and Portuguese and asked if I danced for the party. She really likes dancing but I think that pleasure is a bit stiffled if you are a nun, but of course I can't be sure. A little later after the laundry is done and after we learn how to get coco (coconut) out of a dried green oblong shaped ball and how to then shave it like what you would find on the baking isle of a grocery store, the sisters let us try some candied coco. It was heavenly. Then they said to take it home with us to share with the other Americanos. After more time has passed and we have prayed with the cooks and eaten their amazing meal of rice and beans and noodles, and mean and salad and pineapple they get to try our brownies that we have been trying to make and give them for over a month now.
After MoC we get on another bus and ride 30 minutes or so to Tijuca, another area of town between DT and where we live. We check the mail box, nothing for me, then walk to Projeta Vidinha (the orphanage). Kids are eating lunch. IN (a 10 year old boy) is playing with the four little kittens with a clothes hanger. B (2 year old girl) is in a great mood and having my head be a race track for a matchbox like car. R (8 year old boy) is obediently eating. No other little kids there at the time. We take them to the main room after they eat to play a memory card game. It works for a bit before the other Americans on staff show up with their baby. B is playing with markers and stealing our cards. T (6 year old boy) and PV (8, boy) arrive. R has started to cheat. IN is rearranging the cards. R is becoming more obsinate each minute. Finally the other Americans who can speak excelent Portuguese come in and give the kids more direction. Now they will create Christmas cards for their American sponsors. Last week they created cards for their Brazilian sponsors. So because of this repitition they weren't very excited or engaged in the assignment. IN followed directions well once he possisioned himself on the other side of the room from me and requested marker colors he needed in Portuguese and had me throw them across the room to him back and forth. R just wasn't having a real good day and kept pouting. The other boys T and PV focused for a total of 10 minutes. Once they were done so were Heather and myself. The house quickly became chaotic again with kids trying to use us as jugle gyms, yelling and fighting each other. All the while I'm locking in having to throw markers across the room at IN. Three and a half hours of being in this house finally pass and we decide we've had enough and need to get home for the evening. We get directions for the next day from the American staff then start saying our good-byes to the kids. I ask little B for a hug in good enough Portuguese for her to have no doubt about my request for a hug, I said, "Eu preciso uma abrasar." She got a really big smile on her face, opens wide her little arms and flings herself at my chest. I'm squatting on the floor so it's perfect. Then the other kids see me within their reach so before I know it PV and T and R are all on my back. This frustrates me as much as it makes me feel loved and appreciated. We finally leave and tell the kids we will see them again Friday for Enlgish class.
So we leave and hobble like wounded soldiers the half mile or more to the bus stop more aware than ever of the toll that being in a forein country, doing manual labor, and working with kids has on a person. The bus this time is another 45 minutes and I settle in comfortably by Heather and start to drift to sleep (not deep sleep but just kinda nodding off now and again). We get off and walk home another 1/2 mile through the favela. At home Heather and I part ways, her to the internet cafe and I to the roof of our house.
At the roof, I take "Announcing the Reign of God" a book we will be discussing as a group tomorrow that I haven't finished yet. I also have my water bottle and disposable camera hoping to catch a good sunset and noticing that the neighbor kids are trying to get their kites to take flight. I love watching the flight of their little kites. It looks like a lot of work but well worth it. One of the kids has a roof like ours that is really tall above all the buildings around it. The other is under several clothes lines and has taller buildings on three sides so it's much more difficult to get a kite to fly from such a position. I watch them struggle for a while and then I hear teenage girl voices behind me and realize the kids from a couple houses down are joining me on my roof. I recognize them but have never had conversations with them before. Now I speak more and am up for the challence. T (14 year old girl) asks to see/use my cameral. I let her. She takes a picture of her friends. Then one of me confussed that she has so quickly figured out how my camera works, I will trash that one once I get them developed. Then she takes one of her friends and me with the mountains and kites in the backgrownd. We talk a bit about names, ages, where I'm from, do I have a boyfriend, my favorite types of music, and that was about all. Then the oldest starts beating up on T. Not really sure why but it destroys our moment of conversation and they find their way back to their own roof.
I look up after this and see the kids have finally sucessfully gotten their kite flying. I hollar PARABANS! (congratulations) at them and the girls I was talking to start laughing of course. Just as quickly as the kite takes flight it seems to crash back down so I decide I can probably invite them over to my roof because it is so much better possitioned for flying a kite but no kids live here to do the honors. So I hollar over again "vocês pode vam car aqui com suas peples." please excuse my spelling I'm not sure of my accuracy with Portuguese spelling but this is my attempt to say "Ya'll can come over here with your kite." They act like they understand and seem to say, really? After one attempt the kid runs downstairs and looks like he's asking mom for permission but then returns to the roof and resumes flight there. So I give up and just enjoy the sunset with the kids still trying to fly their beautifle kite for a long time. Heather joins me after a while with her camera also. I share a cookie with her that I got last night at my birthday party.
Then we go downstairs and evaluate our options for super. We are now out of noodles, out of rice, out of meat, cheese, we have two eggs, some slightly moldy bread, and good spices. I have no money. I have just enough money for the bus fair until we get paid Friday morning. I have so little spare money that I have been borrowing toothpaste and soap all week. I made the mistake of going out to eat Chinese food with Lisa on our birthday. It was worth it but now I have no extra. We don't get much money to live on, which is good. About 1/3 of the R$100 we get goes to transportation. The rest basically covers our food. But then we always end up doing things during the week with our Brazilian friends and nothing is cheap. So we decide to make egg sandwiches with curry and tabasco. Heather has some spare money and buys two slices of cheese. She is very generous to me. Most of her weekly allowance probably went to my birthday celebrations. I decide to contribute to the meal by sharing some Crystal Light to go Cherry packets with her. It is a really good meal.
After eating I came to the Lan House where I am at the moment. I hope you enjoy my day. So ordinary and yet so amazing. I really love Brazil. I love Rio. I love my teammates and friends. I really love the favela. And I thank God for drawing me to this place in relationship with all these people. Thanks for reading. I'll be back to Texas in two and a half weeks and to Chicago at the first of the year.
Tchou
Friday, November 02, 2007
MTVs The Real World
In case you guys haven't been watching MTV lately, it was just announced that next season's Real World will be in Brazil and will be featuring young Christians oddly enough, where people stop being polite and start being real. Get this, our veggi stand neighbors said they saw us on TV a couple weeks ago at the Brazil vs. Ecuador futbol game at Maracanã.
We had been suspecting something was up for a while. Ben seems to be best at spotting the hidden cameras. One time he and Rich were downtown when people and cameras came out of nowhere and engulfed them in hugs. They said they were "free hugs" or something like that but we suspect otherwise. Another time Ben saw the cameras and upon inquiring was assured "don't worry, it's for the Amazing Race." Now I am convenced, these things are no coincidence. We are being made into a TV show. And a darn entertaining one too I'm sure.
People are interested in how young American Christians living co-ed in another country will behave. I'm not ashamed. America can see how we live, how we get angry, how we spend our time in a small house in a poor neighborhood.
Just so you can know what part of the season is currently being filmed, I think we just reach the climactic fourth of the way in where MTV really gets the viewers hooked on evesdropping into our lives. 2 weeks ago Will dropped the monumental quots, "I'm not going to live like your not coming back." This proceeded Will and David's weekend trip to visit some twin girls in São Pãulo which corresponded with the weekend the girls moved out of the slum to Jenna's one bedroom apartment in Hiegenopolis. The following weekend's Episode was where 3 out of 4 of our leaders were abroad so we had to fend almost completely for ourselves in the big city.
This week they filmed the episode on who our feal friends are. One group of friends from Jacaré are taking us bowling and some other friends had invited us to go to their beach house in the country. We are living large and living Real.
The Real World!
We had been suspecting something was up for a while. Ben seems to be best at spotting the hidden cameras. One time he and Rich were downtown when people and cameras came out of nowhere and engulfed them in hugs. They said they were "free hugs" or something like that but we suspect otherwise. Another time Ben saw the cameras and upon inquiring was assured "don't worry, it's for the Amazing Race." Now I am convenced, these things are no coincidence. We are being made into a TV show. And a darn entertaining one too I'm sure.
People are interested in how young American Christians living co-ed in another country will behave. I'm not ashamed. America can see how we live, how we get angry, how we spend our time in a small house in a poor neighborhood.
Just so you can know what part of the season is currently being filmed, I think we just reach the climactic fourth of the way in where MTV really gets the viewers hooked on evesdropping into our lives. 2 weeks ago Will dropped the monumental quots, "I'm not going to live like your not coming back." This proceeded Will and David's weekend trip to visit some twin girls in São Pãulo which corresponded with the weekend the girls moved out of the slum to Jenna's one bedroom apartment in Hiegenopolis. The following weekend's Episode was where 3 out of 4 of our leaders were abroad so we had to fend almost completely for ourselves in the big city.
This week they filmed the episode on who our feal friends are. One group of friends from Jacaré are taking us bowling and some other friends had invited us to go to their beach house in the country. We are living large and living Real.
The Real World!
Evangelical. Am I?
I've been feeling frustrated with a friend a few times when Brazilians ask "are we Baptista" He says Will and himself are and the rest of us are Evangelica diferente bla bla bla Portugueseness....
A few days ago Lugamila (our new language teacher) was asking each of us individually this denomentational question. Lisa was asked first and said Nazerine and David chimed in with the Portuguese pronounciation. I was next and said "No, I don't have a denomentation" They were confussed so again David chimes in with the Portuguese, "Evangelica não-denomenação bla bla bla... I say "I'm not Evangelical!" and cut him off. I was rude. I didn't mean to be. Luge asked if I was Catholic and I wanted to say yes but I knew she wouldn't understand my intention so I said No. Rillo (Luge's brother) asked if my church had a name and named off all the denomenations he knew and I said we didn't have one of those. Next time I get that question I'll say I belong to a house church and if they want more details I'll say I ascribe to Emergent Anglican Theology. If that doesn't seem to make sense, I'll say we're a bit of an intelectually liberal church. I don't know what liberal means to Brazilians. Maybe I will substitute the word progressive in place of liberal, but that doesn't seem quite right either.
Do the members of Via Christus consider themselves evangelical? I know Church of Christ would not and thus I would not. Technically if I belong to a denomination it would be to the CoC. But I agree more along the lines of Angly/Catholic/Orthodox theology minus the institution which are all also outside the Evangelical parameters. But if it's the institution I have problems with, maybe I'm not Christian at all. Maybe I am simply a disciple. As much as I study and strive to imitate Christ hopefully nobody not even myself could argue with that label.
A few days ago Lugamila (our new language teacher) was asking each of us individually this denomentational question. Lisa was asked first and said Nazerine and David chimed in with the Portuguese pronounciation. I was next and said "No, I don't have a denomentation" They were confussed so again David chimes in with the Portuguese, "Evangelica não-denomenação bla bla bla... I say "I'm not Evangelical!" and cut him off. I was rude. I didn't mean to be. Luge asked if I was Catholic and I wanted to say yes but I knew she wouldn't understand my intention so I said No. Rillo (Luge's brother) asked if my church had a name and named off all the denomenations he knew and I said we didn't have one of those. Next time I get that question I'll say I belong to a house church and if they want more details I'll say I ascribe to Emergent Anglican Theology. If that doesn't seem to make sense, I'll say we're a bit of an intelectually liberal church. I don't know what liberal means to Brazilians. Maybe I will substitute the word progressive in place of liberal, but that doesn't seem quite right either.
Do the members of Via Christus consider themselves evangelical? I know Church of Christ would not and thus I would not. Technically if I belong to a denomination it would be to the CoC. But I agree more along the lines of Angly/Catholic/Orthodox theology minus the institution which are all also outside the Evangelical parameters. But if it's the institution I have problems with, maybe I'm not Christian at all. Maybe I am simply a disciple. As much as I study and strive to imitate Christ hopefully nobody not even myself could argue with that label.
Friday, October 26, 2007
When Toasters Fly...
I haven't seen a toaster (or a microwave come to think of it) in more than two months, but today I saw a sardine can on wheels.
On a day like today, after it's been raining for 3 days and considering the present condition of road construction, it likely would have taken us three hours to travel from Jacaré to Candelaria (look these places up on Google Earth, they are not that far). But what would take three hours by omnibus (bus) managed to take about 20 minutes by sardine can (Metro Train).
Story: We (Heather, Lisa, and I) arrived at the Metro station and the train approached. It was covered by an advertisement like the Lubbock Citybusses in such a way that we couldn't even see through the windows. When the doors slid open, we looked at each other and groaned, "Uh oh." Somehow we managed to squeeze in among the mass of people and it wasn't too bad.
Three stops later we are at the main station terminal. Everyone exists to get on the next train which will take us downtown. We can see into this one as it pulls to a stop. It's worse. People were practically falling out as the doors slid open. I force my body in. Heather's not so sure we can all fit. I hold the door as one might hold an elevator door and say "come on." It's really tight. We can't move. The man behind Heather and I needs off at the next stop. As he tried to move, I try to fill the area his body previously occupied. It's like human tetris.
Next challenge, we don't know which side of the train the doors will open on when it gets to our stop. Only two stops left. Should we force ourselves to the other side of the train or should we stay put? What to do? So I attempt to speak to the friendly looking man beside me (I think he's friendly because he chuckled as I rolled my eyes trying to board the train). In Portuguese I say, "You Know Door." Pathetic, I know. In our broken Portuguese, his broken English, and only one stop to go we manage to communicate which stop we want off on and he tells us which side. We wiggle a couple feet towards the other side of the train and push our way out.
As the train is pulling away, we turn around to bid it farewell and observe just how full each car is.
Everybody knows the train is reliable during the rainy season, EVERYBODY.
On a day like today, after it's been raining for 3 days and considering the present condition of road construction, it likely would have taken us three hours to travel from Jacaré to Candelaria (look these places up on Google Earth, they are not that far). But what would take three hours by omnibus (bus) managed to take about 20 minutes by sardine can (Metro Train).
Story: We (Heather, Lisa, and I) arrived at the Metro station and the train approached. It was covered by an advertisement like the Lubbock Citybusses in such a way that we couldn't even see through the windows. When the doors slid open, we looked at each other and groaned, "Uh oh." Somehow we managed to squeeze in among the mass of people and it wasn't too bad.
Three stops later we are at the main station terminal. Everyone exists to get on the next train which will take us downtown. We can see into this one as it pulls to a stop. It's worse. People were practically falling out as the doors slid open. I force my body in. Heather's not so sure we can all fit. I hold the door as one might hold an elevator door and say "come on." It's really tight. We can't move. The man behind Heather and I needs off at the next stop. As he tried to move, I try to fill the area his body previously occupied. It's like human tetris.
Next challenge, we don't know which side of the train the doors will open on when it gets to our stop. Only two stops left. Should we force ourselves to the other side of the train or should we stay put? What to do? So I attempt to speak to the friendly looking man beside me (I think he's friendly because he chuckled as I rolled my eyes trying to board the train). In Portuguese I say, "You Know Door." Pathetic, I know. In our broken Portuguese, his broken English, and only one stop to go we manage to communicate which stop we want off on and he tells us which side. We wiggle a couple feet towards the other side of the train and push our way out.
As the train is pulling away, we turn around to bid it farewell and observe just how full each car is.
Everybody knows the train is reliable during the rainy season, EVERYBODY.
Egg = Grape
This is the longest I haven't been in school since I was 5 years old and starting Kindergarten. Isn't that crazy? I think so.
Tuesday, Heather and I went to Projecto Vidinha and found H at the lunch table doing homework. How convenient. I was hoping for an excuse to pull out my Portuguese homework at work and sucker some unsuspecting kid into helping me out a bit.
After calling a grape (uva) and egg (ovo), H decides I need a vocab lesson. So he points to everything on the table. Apple (maça), banana (banana), grape (uva), cup (copo), plate (plata), bowl--stop--this is where I crash head first. He says, bacia (pronounced bas-E-a) I repeat bas-I-E. Over and over I make this mistake. We would repeat the whole sequence beginning with the fruit and ending with the bowl and without fail the only word my brain could conjure was bas-I-E.
Eventually, we got to my homework which was writing sentences with -er verbs conjugated correctly. I showed them to my teacher Wednesday night and she was pleased because it was perfect. Little did she know about my struggle to associate bacia with bowl. Thank you H, C, and A for your patience with me Tuesday.
Tuesday, Heather and I went to Projecto Vidinha and found H at the lunch table doing homework. How convenient. I was hoping for an excuse to pull out my Portuguese homework at work and sucker some unsuspecting kid into helping me out a bit.
After calling a grape (uva) and egg (ovo), H decides I need a vocab lesson. So he points to everything on the table. Apple (maça), banana (banana), grape (uva), cup (copo), plate (plata), bowl--stop--this is where I crash head first. He says, bacia (pronounced bas-E-a) I repeat bas-I-E. Over and over I make this mistake. We would repeat the whole sequence beginning with the fruit and ending with the bowl and without fail the only word my brain could conjure was bas-I-E.
Eventually, we got to my homework which was writing sentences with -er verbs conjugated correctly. I showed them to my teacher Wednesday night and she was pleased because it was perfect. Little did she know about my struggle to associate bacia with bowl. Thank you H, C, and A for your patience with me Tuesday.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Circus Freaks
I am a circus freak.
We were downtown Monday, hanging out with the street kids under the bridge and the eyes in every bus, taxi, personal vehicle, and motorcycle were glued on myself and my friends.
I turned to Jenna and asked, "Jenna, why are they staring at me?" Jenna says, "I don't know if you know this or not, but you are in a very dirty place and you are a gringa." I am used to being stared at because I am a gringa but not like this. These stares were painful.
We were downtown Monday, hanging out with the street kids under the bridge and the eyes in every bus, taxi, personal vehicle, and motorcycle were glued on myself and my friends.
I turned to Jenna and asked, "Jenna, why are they staring at me?" Jenna says, "I don't know if you know this or not, but you are in a very dirty place and you are a gringa." I am used to being stared at because I am a gringa but not like this. These stares were painful.
I turned to Will Smith (pronounced "Wiw Smitchy") and asked, "Why are they staring at me?" He responds, "I don't know if you know this or not but they think you are about to be mugged or worse at any moment. They think you are in a very unsafe place." But Wiw and his friends aren't about to harm me in any way. They are my friends. We now have two months of history together. They have guarded my purse many times through the time we have spent together. They have in fact given me priceless gifts including pictures to illustrate their love for me and Portuguese tips. These people are my friends. They are not about to harm me. This must not be why the people are staring so violently.
I turned to Lisa and asked, "Why are they staring at me?" She gently put her hand on my sholder and said, "I don't know if you are aware of this, but you have a second face growing out of your back. They are staring at you because you are a circus freak. I would stare at you to."
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