Burro.

It's spelled the same in Spanish as in Portuguese, but is pronounced completely different. When I first heard Paulo use it, my eyebrow twitched up in a "Are you mocking me?" sort of look.

Boo-hoo.
That's what it sounds like, at least, and I frankly could not decipher if my boyfriend was a) trying to be funny, b) crazy, or c) I was missing the word from my admittedly slim vocabulary. I found I was mostly right on all three accounts. "Burro" is the word for donkey, which I had expected to sound similar to the Spanish version, somehow forgetting that the Portuguese double-r is not trilled, but treated far closer to the Spanish letter "j," which is a somewhat guttural English letter "h." (At times I forget this three-part translation, being more comfortable with the Spanish language.) The word can also be used to describe a person that is, or is acting like, an idiot.

While I have been here, I have come to really love the "Boo-hoos," (no, not idiots. The other definition.) who seem to attempt to make up for their short end of the stick (as compared to their taller, more gallant-looking horse cousins) by stubbornly revolting against their owners and just about anyone that tries to push them around. I find them humorous, yet simultaneously make my heart drop in an odd concoction of emotion for both these beasts and their owners.

On several occasions I have seen young men and women, and even a couple of young boys not looking older than nine or ten, loading up the carts tied to the animals, performing deliveries and pickups for whatever meager amount of money they can get.

While visiting the beautiful Gallinhos Beach, we got to take a ride with the burros and their owners, who all were young men that looked like they were in their twenties. We pulled ourselves, literally, into the tall back seat, and the driver set the donkey moving, hopping onto his cracked and rickety seat only after the animal had begun clopping along. Soon we found ourselves racing the 5 to 7 other bouncing, wooden carts being pulled by burros, along a gloriously beautiful beach. Surprisingly, I don't think it would have been any more gorgeous if we had been drawn in a horse and carriage. The liveliness of the driver and shockingly quick animal made for an exciting trip down the beach.

Here are some "Boo-hoo" pictures for you:






















Beautiful...





















The bumpy ride made it hard to get a clear shot at times.






















The darker side of donkeys..this was right out on the street in front of Paulo's family's apartment.





















And this one was on the street behind the apartment, which I can see from my bedroom window:




















And this one lives right down the hall in the other bedroom... though he insists he's a ninja, not a burro.

Last Sunday Mrs. Terezinha and Mr. Paulo flew out of the country to Argentina, which borders the western side of Brazil. They left to visit some long-time friends that had lived in Natal many years ago and had become very close with my boyfriend's parents. While I knew that this week would likely not be as eventful as prior weeks, I relished the idea of being able to catch up on sleep (Mrs. Terezinha enjoys an earlier start to her day, where as I am a night owl..mix the two, and you get a rather sleepy individual.) as well as spend some alone and quality time with my boyfriend.

I was disappointed to notice today that my time here is coming to an end very soon. The people, culture, and places that I have seen are sure to resonate in my mind for many years to come. I have no doubt that I will return some day, when I am able to save enough money to come here again.

On a much lighter note, I hope to write several new posts on my experiences here that I had neglected, some time within the next few days. I would like to show everyone some of the more intimate romances and tragedies that the city of Natal holds. I will take it as a challenge, as I find that this city raises a conflict within myself; the city is both beautiful and ugly, happy and sad, new and old.

I have thoroughly enjoyed this week with Paulo. We needed some time to ground ourselves and simply enjoy existing with one another. I can count numerous occasions in which Paulo has said quite simply that, "Life is good right now" I have to agree. This was a very much needed vacation, and I have enjoyed my time here.
I am, very simply, happy.

So, there's this aweful fad diet going through its phase in America (what else is new?) that claims that a small berry called Açai (pronounced Ah-sigh-EE) will get you skinny through its "ultra high" amount of antioxidents.

Like most fad diets, I hope you are one of the smart folks and can realize that this is not true. Most of these companies keep shipping their products, and will not stop; which means they also keep charging your credit cards, and will not stop.

What is true, however, is that the açai berry is native to central and south america, especially Brazil. They are approximately an inch in diameter and have a large seed in the center. The seed actually takes up more of the berry than the pulp and juice (dailyspark.com). There are many new ads that claim that this berry can be used as a supplement to super-cleanse your system, causing you to loose weight. When I told this to Paulo, he busted out laughing and told his mom, who also burst into laughter.

The açai berry actually is a fatty fruit. It is very caloric; 80 calories per half cup, in fact (dailyspark.com). It is, in fact, high in anti-oxidants and omega 3 and omega 9 fatty acids, which are known to lower cholesterol. It has a low glycemic index to boot, so it won't make your blood sugar skyrocket (www.it-takes-work.com).

While I have been here, however, Açai has become my absolute favorite treat. There is a small shop that sells it as a frozen treat, which seems like something of a mix between ice cream and a smoothie in a bowl, topped with your choice of granola and a fruit. I prefer granola with dried coconut; Paulo's mother enjoys hers with banana, and his father chooses to squeeze lime over his. If I were ever to open a business, I would want to open an açai shop. I've grown to absolutely love this chilled treat, and I wish that I could share some with everyone. Unfortunately, the berry deteriorates extremely quickly and would never make it here and still be usable. It took me a moment, when I first tried it, to decide that I liked it, but it's become even more delectible (and far more healthy) than ice cream. Paulo told me that this frozen treat is a favorite of people that do sports, dancing, or lift weights, as not only is it tasty and mostly healthy, but it replaces the nutrients and energy that they lost from working out. After an hour or two at the gym one day, Paulo and I decided to test this theory; if nothing else, it was nice to have something cold and refreshing to eat after pouring out the steam!

 The name of the açai shop.

I meant to tell everyone about this exciting part of my journey much earlier, but with me getting sick, I decided to just take it easy for a while. Nevertheless, here is my experience with a great party at a nearby "club" (club in the terms of settled, fairly well-to-do folks) and their party celebrating São João (St. John) and the abundance of corn.

According to Mr. Paulo, the dance that is traditionally used at these parties, "Forro" (pronounced fo-ho) actually derived from the 1940's, during the time of World War II. At that time, there were US troops in Brazil. At the bases, these troops would hold large parties "For all," where everyone, including Brazilians, were invited. When you say the name "Forro", and the words "for all," you will notice that they sound somewhat similar to one another; this is because "for all" is actually how the Brazilians ended up pronouncing and spreading the pronunciation of those words. Hence, "forro," the traditional Brazilian dance that everyone is invited to partake in.

There have been times when I have been extremely aware of myself being a gringa (foreigner) here. Let's face it- I'm about as pale as a sheet of paper, and trying to blend in would take some serious tanning. The night that we went to that party, however, I not only felt accepted by my boyfriend's family, but everyone. The dance wasn't difficult to get the hang of, and I had a blast! I hope you enjoy the photos and videos!


Mr. Paulo dancing Forro with me!

















Forro parties were held in celebration of the corn and having a good harvest. these are all treats made from corn:


















Now for some videos:
(Note: The only video uploader that would handle all of my videos and embed them, is vimeo. Unfortunately, vimeo is often slow, though it has a much clearer picture. This means you may want to hit play, then hit pause and wait for the entire video to load before watching, to make sure it has minimal stops through the movie when it plays. When it is finished loading, you can push play again and watch it all the way through.)

Mr. Paulo, Mrs. Terezinha, dancing like pro's!



Me, dancing with Mrs. Terezinha.



Some of the group dancing. In some of these videos, you can see the people dressed in extravigant, colored clothing. These are the traditional Forro dresses. You'll know them when you see them... they look different from everyone else. I believe the traditional dresses this time were mostly yellow and green, showing Brazilian Pride. (Yellow, Green, and Blue are the colors of the brazilian flag, and they are displayed everywhere down here.) In this particular version of the dance, a person uses a microphone to give directions to an impromptu line dance of sorts. They make up a "story" to go with it, having different people play "parts", like a Bride, Priest, Daughter, etc. The last couple of videos, I liked in particular.

I thought it might be good to let everyone know the reason for my sudden lack of posts in the last week.

Firstly I'd like to establish: I am okay.

Knowing this, let me go into the story. Most people know I have a particular love for food. When the opportunity arises to try new food, I usually jump at the chance. When many new foods are involved, I'm known to take a little of each kind, and try a bit of them all. Such an opportunity arose this last week, and as usual, I pounced. Along with our normal dinner (which has many foods I'm really not used to as is), I also tried quail eggs, and had some cashews later that night. I can feel my stomach roiling even at the thought of the eggs.

Long story short, 3 am and I was torn from my sleep to rush to the bathroom and was huddled over the toilet several times after that, between then and the next evening. I at one point couldn't remember what count I was at, but it was either 9 or 10 seperate times that I had to actually go to vomit.

Luckily, Marcia, a mutual friend of Paulo and mine, has parents who work as doctors at the local public hospital. I went to the hospital twice that day; one time in the morning, in which they gave me 500 ml of saline and some meds to stop me from vomiting, and again in the evening when it returned. The second time, Marcia's father saw me directly, and gave me 500 ml of sugar-water solution with the same medicine as the earlier visit, and 2 more containers of saline, 500 ml each. Since then, I have been eating very bland foods, such as mild fruits and rice. Strangely, when I get too tired, I feel the sensation returning to my stomach, and I set aside time to rest, regardless of what I'd like to do instead.

The experience was definitely not a good one, and I've learned several lessons: Don't mix too many new foods, drink a lot of water to keep hydrated, and never eat quail eggs. Ever.

As I said before; I am okay now. I just am far more careful to keep my liquid intake up, and am extremely aware of what I am eating now. Aside from that, everything else has been peachy, and I'm thanking God for the my boyfriend's family, who are treating me with great care, as if I were their own daughter. I am thankful for them, and also for the fact that public hospitals in Brazil...are FREE. I was so sick, that I was really having a hard time orienting on digging up my international insurance information. It makes me really upset, though, that the USA doesn't have the same.

Here is the movie I took from the lookout that is situated so that you can look out and over the tree, which is massive. The first area I show, the little houses, are actually tourist shops filled to the brim with anything and everything related to cashews, including a cashew liquor that Mr. Paulo bought for my father. (Again, my boyfriend has the same name as his father, so I am dictating the difference by using "Mr." for Paulo senior.) Enjoy! Oh... and my boyfriend Paulo also pops his head into view at one point during the video...being a dork, as usual. hehe..