A Royal Wedding

Today I woke up early to watch the Royal Wedding of Kate and William with my ever-loyal British grandfather. It was an incredibly touching experience seeing him tear up seeing his old homeland lit up with joy and festivities. His reaction to the Duke and Duchess's double kiss on the balcony was "practically necking"- and I just died of laughter.

What was in both of our hearts however, was a very different time and people. In July of 1981 was probably the most famous of all weddings and princes, that of Princess Diana and Prince Charles: with enormous dresses, fanfare, parades and cheering throngs. However, in the same month was a very different fairy tale wedding.

In a small, outdoor wedding, with a guest list of only 50 people, in a light lace wedding gown and flowers in her hair, a young 18-year old Brazilian girl became a princess. There were no crowds or flags, nor long processions or great ceremony (save for the Catholic priest and communion), but in spite of it all, it was every bit as romantic and joyful as the wedding across the seas. Friends and family gathered around in the late afternoon sunshine, enjoying the warm scented wind and the flowered trees. My grandfather kissing her goodbye at the alter. Children restlessly playing on my dad's lap. Dom Pedro Gastão and Dona Esperanza looking onto their son and daughter-in-law in regal happiness. The priest blessing them. My grandmother holding back tears. Looking past her young face, these old photos portray a graceful dignity. My uncle looking at her with deep love and even protection as he held her hand in their vows.

Now I am living in her old room, the same place where she grew up. I think about how naive and excited she must have felt before her wedding, laying and staring up at the ceiling I see now. Suddenly in one day she went from girl to woman and mother, adopting her new husband's first son.

Years later, she would battle disease with the same beautiful and quiet dignity. Her courage and faith drive me every day. I am reminded that I live but a breath of time in the history of the world. And every day is but a wink in time. What can I do to prove this day?

I do not mean to hurt people, but I often do. Sometimes I feel so weighted by this I can't seem to move. As a human, this is my fate. But as a daughter of God, I am always promised grace. Even in the darkest and final hour, my aunt gave her thanks to God. I can only wish to be as brave as she.

D. Pedro Carlos de Orléans e Bragança e Patrícia Ana Maria Alexandra Paula Elisabeth Branscombe

One, Two, Step.

Double-time, half time, real time.

Finally, my life has a rhythm again. It is so strange, but relaxing too; I love it.

After all the boys left, I suddenly found myself with a load of empty time and space that I needed to fill. So I found some projects. First, I started off joining a gym. This experience was something completely different than any gym or YMCA in the U.S. Still working over a language barrier, my first week was me being dragged around or followed through the facility by body trainers. I had no idea what was going on. Finally, sensing my distress, someone finally informed me how these things work here. Whereas in the U.S. you join a gym and go about minding your own business and you have to pay through your nose to get a body trainer, here you are set up right away with a training plan based on your goals and your physical and medical limitations. So I had a medical exam, a nutrition orientation, and a physical dexterity test. WHEW. Not only that, but trainers stop you about ever half hour to take your pulse and make sure you aren't straining yourself. Yes this all sounds very professional and awesome- but as a born American, I had a very difficult time with so much invasion of my personal space. It took me several weeks to get used to so many people talking to me about so many of these personal things, and just coming up to me and helping me stretch or lift without even asking first. One amazing experience for me though, was taking Capoeira classes. Capoeira is the Brazilian martial art that combines music, dance fighting and a sort of gymnastics. As a beginner, I am terrible, but the other students were incredible to watch. The control and gracefulness in their movements was unlike any other.

Beginning in February, I also started interviewing for jobs teaching at some English courses. Interviewing in another country was a completely new and exciting experience. I started off just going to any schools I could find and dropping off my resume. To my excitement, I received several call backs, despite my lack of teaching experience. From these interviews, I was invited to do training in two different schools (first they do training, then they tell you if you are hired- odd). In the end, I actually had to choose which I wanted to work for, since they both made offers! Well, I accepted a position teaching advanced conversational English at a school called Lexical, and has been fantastic. I only have adult students (awesome), and every one is cheerful and excited to learn. I had my doubts at first that I even had the ability to be an effective teacher. But now as I see my students making connections and practicing their accents and pronunciations, I feel that I actually do have something important to offer them.

Finally, my latest activity and newest passion: ballroom dance. Answering a promotional advertisement for free dance lessons at a studio, I got to try out Samba, Saltinho, Fórro, and Tango. Latin dance has always been something I have wanted to learn, so I decided to sign up. Now I am taking classes 4 times a week. The Tango is by far the hardest. In class we spend so much time just practicing shifting weight and controlling our posture and movement. There is so much control in every movement, and everything has to be deliberate, yet you also have to be able to react and transition quickly. Often, I am concentrating so hard that I forget to breath.

And so my life has fallen into these series of rhythms. Whether it is dance, teaching, or whatever else here, I am constantly learning how to move and respond to the people and experiences around me. I realized that the biggest obstacle I have had to confront (and am still working on) has not been the language itself, but in my perception of personal space and comfort zones. Opening myself up to people has not been the easiest and I still struggle with physically letting people in. I realized that so many people in the Northern Hemisphere work so hard to keep other people distant and "minding their own business." But maybe we are missing opportunities doing this. Even something so simple as making eye contact with complete strangers on the street: that brief moment of honesty that neither of you are expecting.

January is for family

Ah my, but time does fly! Yes, I realize it has been ages since my last post. But as they say, it is better late than never right? And now you get to hear about our amazing adventures.

So starting off the year of 2011, my parents finally sent me my Christmas present: my brother (bearing gifts of peanut butter and bagels)! And not far behind him in arriving came another wonderful surprise, my cousin Jeffery. With these two mulekes in my house, you can imagine the craziness. Well it wasn't enough, so we added a few more.

Next in arrival was, from Grandpapa's side, yet another cousin, Frank Branscombe (yes, it is a family name). In our first reunion, the chemistry sparked. It seemed to us that

Frank had always been there in our lives. With his playful sense of humor, love for adventure, and quirky Spanish/French accent- we could not help but feel a blood connection.

Not to be left out, Felipe (our Brazilian cousin) came up to add his part to the frenzy. So there we were: Americans, Brazilians and a little Peruvian. This completed our family reunion, representing the various parts of the world into which our family has spread (and yes, we cooked some amazing food).

Frank, myself and Jeff at Ipanema Beach!

Our coming together marked a new era for our family- but sadly, as new things come, we had to say goodbye to some things passed. Specifically, our charming little Island home.
Many, many years ago, my grandparents set about building a small house on a little fishing community's island- Ilha Jaguanum (or Black Panther). According to my dearest Grandpa's stories, our house was the first to use materials other than just bamboo and thatch (somehow I doubt this). Despite the happy and wonderful memories, the time had come to pass on the joy to another family.

So it was up to us to make the move and enjoy our island one last time.Our adventure started immediately on the car drive down to the coast- being the only girl in the group with 5 boys, you can imagine the kind of car games we played... When we finally arrived at the coast, we were just ahead of a huge rain cloud. We rushed to hire a boat taxi, but it was too late. We sputtered along in an uncovered boat taxi for 40 minutes while bullets of tropical rain pelted down on us and the ocean waves. Our clothes and bags were completely soaked... So we did all that we could do- raised our beer cans and made a toast to life and unexpected surprises. Just as we landed on our beach, the rains stopped and we quickly unpacked and hung out our sopping things. Walking through the old house brought my lazy memory ten years and more. I remembered walking on the sandy tiles, the

romantic kerosene lamps and watching my Dad pump water in the court yard. Other things like avoiding coconut trees (and falling coconuts) in the front yard were unchanged as well. Island living came extremely easy to our group and we quickly split up according to our priorities: Frank and I jumped into the water, Mitch and Jeff went exploring, and Felipe and Steve (our German/Bahian friend- also nick-named Bacon) went to the bar next door to set up a beer tab. It took no time at all before we had set up our first barbecue and were eating fresh fish and shrimp off the grill.

Our first island sunset was nothing short of spectacular...

In the horizon, a familiar and long forgotten image appeared: a distant mountain range in the shape of a sleeping man, one my father had pointed out to me years ago as "The Giant." When I was young, I used to imagine that one day he would wake up and rise and walk away into the sea.


The "Sleeping Giant" in the distance.

The next few days seemed to be lost in time and space. We floated in and out of sleeping, swimming, sailing, hiking and cooking. Nights were spent around kerosene lamps drinking wine and sharing stories, catching up on all the lost time in our lives. Frank and I found a common passion for the wind and the waves- sailing! We also found a common knack for getting stuck in wind shadows... We got tons of exercise swimming our sailboat out of the dead zones. The boys surprised me by making me take them speedo shopping before we got to the island. I humored them and helped them pick out a pair- but I never thought they would actually wear them! How wrong I was. It was like watching a liberation: every day, all day was speedo time. Jeff had his own little adventure when he decided to spend some time under the stars on the dock. Instead he fell asleep under the full moon and woke up in the early morning to find himself- stranded. Yes, the dock is only accessable by climbing up a rope and some rocks, but in high tide, the only way back is to swim... Luckily the fishermen get up before sunrise, so they came to his rescue. None of us even noticed that Jeff had spent the whole night outside until after breakfast later that morning when he nonchalantly said "So I got stuck on the dock last night." Siigghhh- that child!

One of the amazing thing about the island was its people. I realized quickly that island people have a long long memory. On my first day people were coming up to my brother and I and exclaiming "Tidi's children!" (Tidi is my Dad's nickname in Brazil) Mitchell was often called Tidi Boy and I was told I looked like my aunt Patsy many times. Other people told me stories of their memories of me when I was little. Then I finally met one very old (and semi-toothless) fisherman. Together we sat under the shade of the old Eucalyptus tree in our yard and he told me the story of how he helped my Grandpa build this old house. Apparently Grandpa was a very odd thinker, as the fisherman pointed out, and he wanted to build the courtyard out of "natural stones" instead of pre-cut ones. Grandpa also used things like whale bones for decorations, and old wooden machinery parts for window frames. These people were so proud of the house, like it was their own- a history they shared with our family.

Breakfast for the birds- fish cleaning time!

Frank and I were in charge of dinners- here we are cooking by kerosene light.

The little sailboat that we managed to make a 2 person boat.

Bacon, Mitch and Felipe making a churrasco on the beach! Never let men grocery shop for a trip- all we had was meat and bread.

Sailing and climbing on rocks

One memory that my family cherishes was from Mitch and My's first trip to the island (I was six and he was five). One night we were playing in the sand, when suddenly- the sand began to sparkle with little green lights. We dug and played and finally went screaming to Mom and Dad. Well, unfortunately- we found it it wasn't magic. But, as the biologist inside me was growing, I was excited to find out that it was biolum inescent plankton, a natural phenomenon that causes plankton to glow when agitated- or "excited". Mitch and I have been holding on to this magical memory for years, and were incredibly excited and hopeful to experience it again revisiting our beach. So of course we were slightly disappointing when Felipe realistically told us that we probably wouldn't see it since it was very rare. But then finally, on the last night, we were sitting around the fire when Felipe decided to go for a late night swim. Suddenly he came running back yelling- tonight there WAS bioluminescence! Without a word we all got up and ran to the water- diving in and watching as our wake sparkled green. Our hands and feet became flaming torches in the water. And yes of course, I did the only thing I could do in such a moment- I yelled out "Lumos!!" several times before diving in and watching the lights glow around my fingertips. It was truly indescribable and miraculous. We were all giddy children again with wild and boundless imagination- screaming and laughing at the starry sky. The next day we would have to say goodbye to this magical place forever, to our second home and own small paradise; but for now, we were all part of the light- the lightening over the coastal mountains, the distant stars and glittering sea.

Twenty Eleven

I am writing this blog now during a blackout on our mountain. All the electricity is out and we are in total darkness. Here and there I can see the slight flickering of a candle in a window, or the sweep of a flashlight light. Cracking fireworks are randomly being set off, some people taking the opportunity to for attention. Someone is playing a trumpet up and down the street…

It has been a very long long time since my last post, and so much has happened, I am not sure where to start! But it has to start somewhere.

The Holiday season away from home was a very new experience. I was away from my usual family and far far away from any snow or ice. I was also missing a significant amount of Christmas songs and Holiday carols... which I really do enjoy. But just the same as with Thanksgiving, I got to participate in making my own Holiday with my loved ones around me. Christmas was small; just my Grandpa, my cousin Felipe, his girlfriend and I. We had a small gift exchange, followed by a huge meal, and then attending an even huger party at a friend’s house that lasted all night. New years was even stranger- since Brazilian parties don’t usually get started till well after midnight, we almost forgot to watch the clocks for the New Year! Luckily someone remembered and we were able to open the champagne in time. Everyone was dressed in white or light colors, representing the wish for peace in the coming year. At midnight hundreds of fireworks filled up the sky, the booms ringing through the mountains so loudly I thought that at first, it was a war! The Brazilian tradition I found the most beautiful though was the first thing everyone did was to turn to the people next to you, give them a hug and two kisses, and wish them “Tudo de bom para Você,” or “I wish all is well for you” (more or less the translation…). I knew very few people at the party (1 person) but not a single person missed me in wishing me well and giving me kisses. And that is how I welcomed in the New Year- with hugs, kisses, and making new friends. God has blessed me with so many wonderful experiences in the last year- I can only imagine what 2011 will bring.

Because EVERYONE loves cute doggy pictures:

Rasta swimming in the pool with his favorite food: a coconut!!

This dog is my new love.

House of Memories

The creaking boards. The stairway rail. The irregular steps. The smell of the entryway when I first walk in the door. All the same. I cannot understand how this house remains still in time while the rest of the world changes, but yet it does.

Living in the house my Dad grew up in is surreal. This old house is filled with memories of times passed- black and white faces frozen in frames; kissing, hugging, laughing. Many of theme are gone now but these little monuments have sealed their youth. My grandpa too is now a sage, my storyteller who daily relives younger days. During breakfast I am taken away with his tales to India or England. At lunch it is Peru or the seas, and at tea time we remember together the years of this old house. My imagination runs wild and my emotions are a roller coaster. It is so easy to be delighted in an instant, and then I am suddenly tragically nostalgic: for an age I never knew. Still the British Gentleman, he calls me "Ali, my Love," and says words like 'fond' and 'adore' when he is excited. Then we just sit together in silence. Sometimes just in memory, or reading books by Faulkner or Hemingway.

The streets have changed, and the stores are different. The graffiti is is new and bright while the cobblestones are cracking on the street. Everything around has changed. The people inside the house change too, people come and go, are born and die.

But the house still remembers.

My dad and grandparents holding my cousins Pedro and Felipe

"Poor Niagra"

...As the first lady Eleanor Roosevelt put so perfectly, yes: poor Niagra. The pounding, crushing energy of the falls at Foz do Iguaçu is overwhelming. Every emotion is augmented there- awe, power, fear... White mist envelopes everything, and as you walk closer to the falls, so are you. The green grasses and trees glisten with water and butterflies fly up from the trail ahead. I watched as birds of all types and sizes flew in and out of the white cloud rising from the falls- soaring and floating for no reason at all but to play. Walking up to the falls and looking over the edge, a strange and foreign sensation overtakes you- and you suddenly feel the temptation to jump; to fall with the water and be enveloped in the roar.

A plaque on the path to the falls had this verse inscribed in it:

"Mightier than the thunders of many waters, mightier than the waves of the sea, the Lord on high is mighty." Psalm 93:3

This verse made me stop and wonder... many times. Looking at the raw power of the falls, and the imagining what kind of power cracked the earth to make it- I cannot imagine anything mightier. How awesome, how mighty is He that created it?

Friends, "turkey," and a long way from home.

Pontal do Sul.
This place has come to mean so many things to three americanas that were privileged enough to call this small town home for a month. It was a place of sun, sand, waves and music; a place to dance, to create, to fall in love and discover a new passion for life and learning. The latter was true for me.

In Pontal I met some of the most incredible people of mylife. Selfless. Intelligent. Inspiring. Free. And there was really nothing more perfect to end it with, than our very own Thanksgiving dinner. Starting as a small dinner between Lucy, Camila and myself, the idea soon grew to include more of our friends and new “family” of Pontal.

This too marked a certain passage for me- hosting my first Thanksgiving. Lucy and I quickly set to work on a menu- Turkey was an unfortunate loss in our charming beach town, but we made due with a delicious chicken, roasted with apples, onions, carrots and potatoes. This was served with two types of mashed potatoe

s, regular and garlic oregano, and two dishes of squash (sweet and salty). We also steamed some green beans to add more color to our table. I carefully laid out a picnic table in our mini courtyard, utilizing the flowering trees as a natural decoration, and taking some of the flowers to hang down over our heads. We were also able to procure some candles and a wildflower bouquet for ambiance.

Then our guests arrived, and soon it really did feel like Thanksgiving day. Various fragrances wafted through the air from the kitchen, glasses clinked as toasts were made, laughter and (folk) music filled the air. The only major difference of course, was portuguese.

Finally all was prepared, and we sat down to eat. Our friend Gabriel quickly assumed the role of cutting the chicken, which Camila insisted we still call the Turkey. I stood and stumbled through a small speech about what meaning of Thanksgiving mean to us three 'americanas' and what meeting them had meant to us. I have never been one with speeches, much less in my second language, and was quickly embarrassed; but Camila enthusiastically took up my slack and made a toast- to Dolphins no less!

With that kind of a kick off, we tucked in. The Brazilians were blown away by Lucy's stuffing, and were equally impressed with our two versions of squash. Since it is not usual to have a heavy dinner in Brazil, I was fully expecting our guests to eat small portions. I was totally blown away then when they went in for seconds, then thirds, until some were so full they were falling asleep at the table (another Thanksgiving tradition- I explained)!!

But Thanksgiving is far from over when the turkey is cleaned. Hot from the oven, we presented the ultimate American tradition: the Apple Pie. Making everything from scratch and improvising a pie dish and spatula, we served it the only way it is edible- with vanilla icecream. One of our friends, Mattheus, had been a student in the U.S. several years ago, and when he got is slice of pie- he just sat and stared at it. He said it was his secondfavorite food (after cheesecake) and was just too excited to be eating it again.

Camila is prending to be Anna-Maria Braga (Brazilian Oprah) here. According to her, Anna-Maria goes under the table when she eats food on her show (?????). ...I have a feeling that I am really missing something here- but anyway, it is hilarious!

It was a perfect evening of stories, jokes, and bloated stomachs. Despite the fact that I couldn't avoid dishes this year, it was the most memorable Thanksgiving yet. This place, for as short of a time as it was, became my home; and these people- my family. I will never forget them, and will daily live out the lessons they taught me. This small little beach town will always have a place in my heart.

Laboratório de Ecologia e Conservação do Mamíferos e Tortarugas Marinhas

Our Lab: Laboratory of Ecology and Conservation for Marine Mammals and Sea Turtles.

From left: Lucy, Mattheus, Camila, Me, Ronaldo

Front: Glecie

I love these people.