Letter From Brazil - The School

In mid May of 2009, I began the second week of Portuguese language studies. Located in Florianopolis, the school Step 1 serves as my launch pad to learn the beautiful language of Brazil. The first week awakened my mindset to process information, retain it and have some semblance to study.

Probably the most interesting thing of the first week was meeting the teachers, administrators and others as I navigated this Brazilian immersion program.

First and foremost, you have to remember I was hobbling on a bad knee and was locked out of my bank account.

If you know anything about me and the onset of gout, you might as well kill me or amputate the affected limb.

My goal on the first day was to use the pill provided by my murderous brother John (who continually tries to make it look like suicide on my part), who graciously provided gout relief medicine for my benefit – or maybe this is another coy plot to seek revenge for our sibling rivalry. So far I have not died.

The school’s director, Miguel, clued me in to Skype. If you know not, it is worth a Google. We called the bank (Bank of America) and they unceremoniously told me that if I decide to travel I had to inform them. Oh, the price we pay…

The lock on my funds was lifted and I was able to worry about other things. But, I did have to go to a local bank to secure pocket change. Miguel said, “It’s just down the road and past the circular turnaround.”

Yeah right.

After a mile and a half, in the heat of the day and my mind warped from a Nazi teacher (no offense to those of you who harbor those sentiments), I limped into a HSBC branch.

Little did I know that the banking system works differently here.

Imagine entering a clean lobby or foyer that is the segue to another area that is heavily protected with an armed guard and a turnaround style glass door that you have to enter the main portion of the bank. I casually enter the door system and it locks down! Apparently they have sensors in those turnstiles and the sensors must have gone berserk.

The guard approached and shakes his head NO. Now of course, there are lines building up both ways for those who want to enter and those who want to exit. In this door system, I am sealed in. It won’t go forward and I don’t know why. As it turns out, you have to empty your belonging in a glass pass-through for inspection and safekeeping before they allow you to see a teller.

Ultimately, I had to reverse my course and explain to the Portuguese-only speaking MEAN guard that I knew not. Luckily, I was able to use the cash machines to acquire some cash.

Let me go back and redefine my professora. Her name is Renata and she is a wonderful teacher. My lessons have heavy concentration of the use of the language and she avoids relying on English. Luckily, her will is stronger than mine. My first week has been fruitful both in exposure to the rudiments of the language and the culture.

Nest installment, the beach, the Jinga Bar and the Samba.

PS. I got a Moped!!!! So now this is unofficially the Motocicletos Diaries from Brazil