Rio Gringa

notes from new york

I spent a lot of time walking around the city today, since I got in early. One of the things I love most about New York is that there are always new places to discover. I know the city pretty well, and today on my walk I found places I'd never even seen or heard of before.

I also wandered across a farmer's market today, and realized I hadn't had fresh basil for a long time until I came home. I think it's my favorite vegetable smell. The market was ok, though it got me thinking: the ideal farmer's market would be a New York vegetable section with a Rio fruit section and a Buenos Aires craft section. Heaven.

I had lunch in a park and wandered around there during lunchtime. Something I discovered about parks in New York is that they're a lot like beaches in Brazil: the only public space where people from all social classes mix on a regular basis. But I happen to think that parks, even large ones, attract much sketchier people than Brazilian beaches, like the skeezeball who came up to me today and asked, "Are you looking for me?" He asked another person before wandering away.

The absence of homeless people as a constant factor in daily life is something I just noticed today. There are a lot of homeless men and some women in New York, but not nearly as many as in Rio. And you very rarely see homeless children. Even though homelessness is a bit more "palatable" in New York, it's no less sobering. Today I saw a man with his head in his knees next to a sign that said: "Please help. My wife and I are $36 away from a bus ticket to our family in Houston, Texas." At first it made me terribly sad, but then I thought harder about it and berated myself for trusting American beggars more than Brazilian ones.

And the thing that I saw that made me smile was a plaque in front of a church on Madison Avenue, which read: "Life is too short to be sensible." My day seemed infinitely better after that.

on the grind

Today was my first day of work and it's going to be hard for me to keep my fat mouth shut but I am definitely not going to talk about the job. I can, however, talk about everything else.

I hate commuting. You probably know that if you follow my blog. I can't explain exactly why I hate it so much, because I don't mind the train, especially after seeing how crappy commuter trains are in Brazil in comparison to the ones here. There's just something about the whole experience that is so soul-sucking that leaves me grouchy and exhausted. And yet millions of people do it happily because they love the suburbs so, and I long for the days of my ten minute commute in Rio.

The part of Manhattan I'm working in is one of the hippest and craziest neighborhoods. One of the things amusing me greatly is how many chic people there are everywhere; or at least, a lot of people who think they're chic. For example, wearing striped trouser pants that end in the knee are fine, but wearing black lacy stockings underneath is just wrong. Nevertheless, I could people watch all day long in the city. That would be a fun job.

The good thing about this whole experience is that it will make me grateful to get back to my preferred pace of life and has already confirmed that I thrive worst when commuting to an office job. I do love the organization I'm working for, though, so I am gritting my teeth until August and trying to imagine how my effort will somehow, in some obscure way, help others.

"reverse" culture shock

Reverse culture shock, the emotional stages you go through when returning to your home country after being abroad, is one of the cruelest experiences expats ever go through. I went through it twice before, both times after studying abroad. The worst was when I came back for good to do my last year of college, when I came home from the best year of my life in Latin America to gritty, gray Washington. I don't mean to scare anyone, but it was a good six months before I felt completely normal again, and by then I had decided to go abroad again!

My first experience with learning about culture shock was in college, when I went to Santo Domingo. The study abroad director in the Dominican Republic did an excellent job teaching us about both types of culture shock, and she was one of the few people I encountered who took the time to really explain and prepare the gringos for what was in store. She kind of scared the hell out of us when we first arrived in the DR with what culture shock would be like there, and thank god she did because it was intense.

But more importantly, she prepared us for re-entry in the US, and I remember she called a meeting for all the study abroad students a week or two before we left for the semester. We were in a small classroom, sitting in a circle around a table. She told us to close our eyes, and then did a visualization exercise, gently walking us through our last week, our departure from the DR, our arrival in the US, and going back to life as we knew it. By that point, most of us, about 25 gringo college kids, were completely, hopelessly in love with that country and our new friends and families, and the director explained to us that pretty soon, it would all be very far away. When we all opened our eyes, most of us were silently weeping. Just thinking back on that afternoon I get misty-eyed.

Now, two years later, I'm in the same place. My head seems to be in a constant fog, which is slowly but surely beginning to lift, and I feel like a lost soul wandering around the house.

The Center for Global Education has a great section on culture shock, including reverse culture shock, which you can check out here. The four stages they describe are:

1. Disengagement
2. Initial euphoria
3. Irritability and hostility
4. Readjustment and adaptation

I wonder if I'll make it to stage four by the time I go back to Brazil. I just hope I can extend stage two for as long as possible.

reunion

This weekend I took two trains to another suburb to see two of my close friends who I haven't seen in a year. Catching up with them was exactly what I needed. We had a barbecue, spent many, many hours gossiping, and watched a good movie--basically a grown-up sleepover.

The next morning, we went to a diner, which was really exciting for me since I hadn't been to one in over a year, and I ordered myself a huge stack of blueberry pancakes with syrup (drool away, expats). I realized that Americans are so fat because our portions are just way too big. Maybe this food crisis will help us in that department. Or maybe not.

I did feel a little weird though, since most of my friends, including the two from this weekend, are already settling comfortably into their career paths, with real jobs and post graduate programs and being responsible adults, while I am still flitting about, ready to leave the country again. I'm not sure what else to say about this other than the fact that the more I think about it, the more it stressed me out, so I'll leave it at that.

And besides being able to see my friends again, I was briefly reunited with my oldest boyfriend. Things were problematic from the start, due to an early separation at the beginning of our relationship, but we stayed close and I managed to visit frequently. But after a long year away, the longest we've ever been apart, I had almost forgotten what I'd been missing. He's beautiful, charming, and sophisticated, and just gets better with age. The minute I see him he always makes me smile, and he has never looked better. I love my Brazilian man, but I will always love Manhattan.

It's so good to be back.

the safety mechanism

After you develop the mentality that you aren't safe anywhere, it's pretty difficult to shake. That's because Rio is a city of constant and sometimes unexpected threats, including but not limited to stray bullets, muggings, carjackings, flash kidnappings, fake kidnappings, getting hit by a car, hot air balloons still on fire falling on you or your building, strong tides, and gun battles. Once you think about all of these threats, you realize that nowhere in the world is safe, especially in the US where crime tends to be much more surprising than in Rio, getting you when you least expect it.

So when I arrived in Westchester, a beacon of calm and safety, I had a lot of trouble shaking my "I'm not safe anywhere" mentality. I felt like a fortress floating in the middle of the ocean. What is there to fear? My first night I even scared myself imagining ghosts (which isn't hard to imagine in my town), since my mind was so warped. It's probably one of the things most shocking me culturally, so to speak.

The other night, I took my dog and her doggie friend who is staying at our house for a walk around the neighborhood. It was about 10PM, and I couldn't believe I was going out so late in the dark alone, on foot, something I avoid doing in Rio. It was so quiet and calm, aside from the threat of an impending thunderstorm. Most houses still had their lights on, and some had their ground-level floors wide open, revealing families and couples puttering around or watching TV. I shook my head in disbelief.

This is one of the hardest things for me to deal with, since I'm going back soon and need to preserve my hard-earned personal safety rules. But there's no reason for me to feel so paranoid here.

Is there?

a different kind of culture shock

When I left the US last June, there were a fair share of problems: an intractable war in Iraq, serious inequalities in health care and education, crime in big cities, and the occasional natural disaster. These were the usual suspects, but as a whole the US was the same smug, world-dominating capitalist machine it always was, where consumption was king and driving around just to drive was a perfectly acceptable activity.

Now, when I got home this June, everything has changed.

It seems the embarrassment of having an assclown like Bush running our country has finally reached the general populace, and the war in Iraq has lost much more support than before. The looming recession is everywhere you look, even in the zillions of advertisements that surround you everywhere you go: SALE! Cut back! Save! How to make the most of your buck!

Like in most of the world, food prices have skyrocketed, especially wheat-based products, like pizza and bread. Businesses have had to raise their prices, some even weekly. Inflation is suddenly a reality, something we have faced few times in history.

But above all, the gas prices doubled in the year I was gone, which has genuinely changed how people function and how they plan their lives. My parents, for example, schedule errands so they only have to go out once and accomplish everything in one fell swoop (which is actually a lot more efficient). Driving just to drive is just too wasteful. How people still use SUVs is beyond my comprehension, because they are still everywhere, but at least some people are buying more fuel efficient cars, like my parents' Prius.

Having a car, a name-brand car, and a BIG car are practically fundamental American rights. They're not in the Constitution, but they're unwritten laws. With gas being as expensive as it is, suddenly it seems hard to justify these concepts.

Poor Americans. We have practically toppled off our golden pedestal. We are getting a taste of life on the other side, what half the world has experienced at some point or another, or faces regularly. We are walking in the shoes of the Third World and we are getting some serious blisters.

No wonder the Brazilians are laughing.

things weirding me out

People speaking Spanish everywhere

The absurd size of some fruits and vegetables

American supermarkets and the thousands of options and brands they have

So many free samples at the supermarket I practically had two lunches

Friendly supermarket employees

Starbucks drive thru

Strangers saying bless you when I sneeze (why is it that Brazilians almost never say bless you??)

My parents' new Prius, which is more like a spaceship than a car, with no ignition and all buttons