When Learning a New Language, Be Careful Who...or What...You Trust

This really might not be funny to anyone who doesn't speak Portuguese or has not had a cross-cultural language experience, but I laughed for a good 10 minutes tonight when this happened. One of my favorite readers, Jaelson, came to our session tonight with a lot of questions from our last lesson (the lesson in Luke 7 about the sinful woman who washed Jesus' feet). He is a pleasure to work with because he is so eager to practice his English and such a joyful person. And he giggles a lot, which is never a bad thing!

So tonight he arrived with a furrowed brow and said "Cris, I have a question. I've been looking up some of these words from the last lesson in my dictionary, and I just don't understand." "Okay..." I thought, as I prepared myself to explain another extremely simple concept that is too simple to explain...my hardest task every day. "You told me that the word 'sin' is 'pecado,' right?" "Yes..." "And that the word 'sinner' is 'pecador,' right?" "Yes..." (a continued furrowed brow...) "Okay...but when I looked it up in my dictionary, it said that a sinner was a pescador." (Fisherman).

At this point I started laughing...and laughing...and laughing, realizing that whoever had typed this dictionary had made a gross error, adding an 's' where it really didn't need to be, completely changing the meaning of the story for my poor friend. (Also a bit ironic to use the word 'fisherman,' don't you think?) So here is how Jaelson read the story, with his new definitions in hand:

"When a woman who had lived a sinful life in that town learned that Jesus was eating at the Pharisee's house, she brought an alabaster jar of perfume, and as she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears. Then she wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them. When the Pharisee who had invited him saw this, he said to himself, "If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is—that she is a fisherman." -Luke 7:37-39

In unrelated news, I had a dream last night that as I was riding the elevator to my apartment the bottom fell out at floor 6 and I fell down 6 stories of an elevator shaft. This has proven very, very unfortunate for me today, as I live on the 8th floor and riding the elevator is necessary multiple times each day. You better believe I'm watching the digital numbers pass as I ride along, holding my breath between floors 5 and 7. My subconscious is out of control sometimes...

Have a good weekend!

Brasil is playing soccer right now, and fireworks go off every time they score

Yes, it's true. Every time Brasil scores the town erupts with gladness and show that gladness through fireworks. Thankfully, scoring is minimal in soccer. But I have the game on in the next room because I have a TV now. Finally, a roommate! I have found myself not even watching it that much, mostly because I'm gone most of the day, but I like the background noise. Especially the background noise of Brasilian soccer games! I only have basic cable though, which is about 40 Brasilian channels and one English channel, so I hope to find some good Brasilian TV to be addicted to...not.

I was remiss in my last post, probably because it was so late, and didn't finish my commenting on the comments section. I mentioned Deborah Niccum and then got distracted. I would like to also welcome Carol, my boss from ACU, Patrick, a fellow former overseas-liver, but he was in China so he's more adventurous than I, my aunt Nette, my aunt Glenda, my aunt Nell again, a girl named Nina whom I don't know but lives in Germany and was cool enough to leave a comment, Lee Ann Paris, a fellow Brasilian-MK who has family living very, very close to me in a nearby city, my friend Katie from ACU, Melanie, my roommate from ACU, my friend Ann, my sister and brother in law, Karin Bryan, my dad, and....drumroll please...MY MOM!!!!!!!!! to the comments section of Living and Loving. If I left anyone out, I apologize, that list came from memory. But hey, my mom finally commented! That's like 25000 points for Team Oklahoma. Sorry, Arkansas.

This week has been a wonderful week, despite the way it started with the little cleaning debacle. I had to say goodbye to a dear friend, though, which is never fun. After I left the States, my sister wrote an interesting blog post about what it feels like to be one of the ones left behind, rather than being the one doing the leaving. When I said bye to Pollyanna, I had the same feeling as I realized that she won't be in all the places in which I'm used to her being anymore.

Almost 2 years ago, she married a Canadian guy and has been waiting for 1 year and 7 months for the Canadian government to approve her Visa to move there and be with him. I've never been married, but I'm guessing that 1 year and 7 months is a long time to wait to see your spouse again! (I met her, returned to the States, and moved back to Natal during this time that she has been waiting!) As we said goodbye, we rejoiced that she would finally be able to begin her married life with her husband, but we cried as we realized that we'll have to get accustomed to life without Pollyanna. She has taught me so much about what it means to walk with the Lord, and what it means to sacrifice for His sake. She is a strong, strong woman, and Canada is about to be a much better place! I wish there was a way to watch their reunion in the airport...we're all imagining what kind of joy will take place! So this week, as I'm praying for my readers and praying that my adjustment to life in Brasil will continue to go smoothly, I'm also praying for Pollyanna, that in the same way that I'm learning how to live in Brasil, God will bless her as she starts her life in Canada.

Here I am with Pollyanna the night of her going away party. Not only is Canada about to be a better place, it's about to be a PRETTIER place!

Pollyanna and her just-as-beautiful sister, Fernanda.

Jim Carrey has nothing on me

It's been a while since I commented on the comments section of Living and Loving in Brazil. I'm not sure who is winning the great race between states, I'm not good at keeping track of these things, but I do know that Team Oklahoma received a special member when Deborah Niccum requested to join of her own free will. I also would like to mention that not once, but twice in the last week has my mom e-mailed me to tell me she liked my recent blog post, rather than simply clicking on a link to leave a comment and tell me in the obvious manner. However, in her defense, I will say that she e-mailed me today after reading the last post to tell me that she had been trying to post a comment and it wasn't working. I must acknowledge and appreciate that kind of effort, right?

Thank you to all of you who have been commenting. I've said it many times, but I'll say it again: it really means so much to me to know that you are out there, somewhere, being interested in what's going on with me and taking the time to read. I really am so encouraged by the comments you leave, even if I don't acknowledge them in a timely fashion.

Also, I wanted to direct your attention over to the awesome little map on the right and make a point to welcome Pakistan, Malaysia, Australia, and a variety of European countries to the blogging audience. I have absolutely no idea who you are, but welcome! Even if you came by accident, it's nice to see some red dots over on your side of the world. Won't you come again?

I have much more to say but I have a reader in exactly 8 hours and really should not be here, but rather in the next room, in my bed, listening to the dog chorus that likes to practice outside my window at 1:45 in the morning every day. I wrote the following yesterday, just another insight into how my adjustment to Brasil is going. As always, please enjoy and feel free to laugh at me. Yes, at me. You may join me in laughing at myself. Goodnight...
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I'm pretty sure I could have been my own episode of "The Truman Show" today, and the whole country of Brasil would have tuned in to watch the dumb American girl try to keep her head above water as she cleaned her apartment for the first time. It had to have been Emmy-worthy to watch me try to clean this with that.

Don't misunderstand me here. This was not my first time to clean my apartment. Because the whole thing is floored with tile, I sweep about every day since I keep the windows open all the time and my shoes track in dirt. But this was my first time to pull out all the stops: mops, liquid cleaner, toilet brush, etc, and then some other stuff that I don't actually know what it's for, but I figured Roberto bought it for a reason, so I just got creative and used it anyway.

When I lived in Abilene, I cleaned the house, but never all at once. I would vacuum one time, clean the kitchen another, clean the bathroom another, and dust another. (Okay, I'll be honest. The dusting didn't really happen too often.) But in those cases I had a vacuum, Swiffer, Pine Sol, Lysol, and English to work with. Here, I have a giant Squeegee, two large rags, a bucket, some bar soap, some disinfectant, some stuff in a blue bottle, and a broom. The stuff in the blue bottle has no section detailing its purpose, even in Portuguese, so I guess I can use it for anything. The bar soap seems like maybe it would be used to wash clothes by hand, and the disinfectant looks like a bottle of Snuggles fabric softener.

What would you do? Hire a house cleaner? Yeah, that's what everyone else does, too. :) So if you'd like to make a contribution to the "Cris Has No Idea What She's Doing, Still" fund, you can send your checks my way and I'll hire someone who knows what this stuff is for. Until then, maybe I'll turn on the webcam so you can see what me getting creative with housecleaning looks like.

Using dish soap in the toilet,

Cris

For Dad, and for Vovô

If I've learned anything from my father in the 22 years I've spent with him, it's to always appreciate the sunset. And by "always appreciate," I mean run inside the house and get your whole family to come outside to look at it. My dad learned to do this from his own father, and although Vovô ("grandpa" in Portuguese) died several years before I was born and had the chance to meet him myself, from the stories I hear it sounds like he was a pretty special guy. Wouldn't you say that any father who teaches his son to always appreciate the sunset is a special guy?

Before I left for Natal, my dad reminded me that my coming here is actually a part of a long legacy that my family has in Brazil. Had my great-grandparents not moved to Sao Paulo back in the 40s (or 30s?), and had my grandmother not met my grandfather while my grandfather was working for her father's company, and had my parents not met while they were both in Brazil doing their own thing, and had my parents not decided to move to Brazil as missionaries, then maybe I wouldn't even be here. That's a lot of "what ifs," but I know I definitely wouldn't be here.

Although I didn't think too much of it before I came, this "legacy" has become very special to me since being in Natal on my own. I am exploring a new part of Brazil that the rest of my family has never really ventured to, but I can't help but wonder what my time in Natal is going to mean for the future of our Carpenter lineage (although the name dies with me...they just couldn't produce any boys!) Anyway, as cheesy as it sounds, every night as I go home and see the sunset just as I walk in my front door I think about my dad. And then I think about Vovô. And then I think about how I'm not the first person with my DNA to be here, trying to learn this language, trying to find my place, trying to learn how to samba (not really, chill out.)

I took these photos with my dad in mind, the first from my front door and the second and third at the beach this weekend. My photography skills aren't so good, so please use your imagination as to what these sunsets actually look like on a day to day basis. I'll be back soon with more thoughts and better grammar (it's late, and I'm sunburned.) Enjoy!

There are so many things to tell you, like how I can pay my bills at pharmacies, how I can leave my apartment, go to the bakery, and be home within 7 minutes, how Brazil has a holiday like every week, how people stop me in the grocery store to practice their English, how this morning as I was walking down the street I was applauded, how I love my readers so, so much, but this morning only one thing seems to really matter:

I am studying Portuguese from a grammar book intended for 10 year olds. How do I know this? Because it belonged to one of my friends. How old was she when she used it? 10. I should frame my ACU diploma and hang it on the wall, just to remind myself that in some country, with some language, I have a mental capacity higher than that of a 10 year old.

When in Rome...

Due to a serious lack of internet access as of late, my blogging has been scarce. I wrote the following on Saturday. Enjoy...

Just because the man who sells you your dining table out of his used furniture shop is not wearing shoes, or a shirt for that matter, does not mean that his product will be inferior. In fact, as my experience has gone, he will cut you a great deal, deliver on the day he promised, cover the seats in new material and polish the wood. No matter that his 3 year old daughter is running around nude during the business deal. No matter at all.

When in Brasil, do as the Brasilians do. This means don’t flush your toilet paper (and take out the trash every day.) This means don’t speak in complete words, but abbreviate where you can and learn that a simple "ta" actually means “esta bom,” or “OK.” This means each morning wake up and go across the street to your friendly neighborhood bakery to buy fresh bread for breakfast. This means don’t go barefoot in your own house. This means only wear a seatbelt if you’re riding in the front of a car, because in the back seat “you don’t need it.” Consequently, this also means grow accustomed to the feeling of “I just might die right now” during heavy traffic. This means wherever two or more Brasilians are gathered in the same place, be prepared to have a great time. This means don’t be satisfied with a simple handshake as a greeting, but be accustomed to a kissy kissy on both cheeks.

I am absolutely loving my reading sessions with my readers. They come from all walks of life and, consequently, give me lots of things to think about and talk about. Some of them are Christians already but worship with different congregations, and often as we read the text from Luke they have insights I have never considered before. They encourage my faith. Some call themselves “believers,” but aren’t too familiar with the stories from Luke and have never really taken the time to study the life of Jesus and examine His words. Seeing the text for the first time, they often have insights I have never considered before, and they encourage my faith. Some are adamantly non-Christian, and make it very clear to me that they are only interested in our sessions to practice their English. Fair enough, I say. That’s allowed. But we still read the text, as it is the material for our lessons and the guide for our conversations, and as skeptics, they still have insights I have never considered before.

They encourage my faith. So really, it's all win-win for me, which is nice, but I have watched several of them beginning to want to apply what we read to their own lives. I will ask them a simple question, like, "So, what do you think God wants to teach you from this story?" (legitimately, I really want to know what they think. These aren't "I have the right answer, hope you can guess it" questions,) and they will really spend some time in thought and produce beautiful, personal answers. It's amazing to watch.

In all honesty, last week was a trying week, the hardest I’ve had since being here. Tuesday marked exactly one month since my arrival, and I think the reality of actually living in Brasil began to hit me. Not that I’m sad to be here, I’m not, but I think any time you move to a new place, foreign or domestic, you have a short honeymoon phase of excitement and then there’s a period that follows where reality begins to settle in. Reality is perfectly fine and normal, but compared to the first weeks of honeymooning, it sure does pale in comparison. It’s frustrating to still be struggling with the language, it’s frustrating to have to rely on other people to get things done. But by the same token, I am so thankful to already know as much Portuguese as I do. I am so thankful to have the Signorettis and Bragas here for, literally, anything I need. I can and have relied on them for so much, and they are still willing to do more.

I debated whether or not to confess this to my little blogging community, but then decided that I wanted to be honest. I wanted you to know that although I do love it here in Natal, and have not for one second ever regretted my choice to come here, it’s not all smiles and rainbows every single day. Some days it’s misused words, some days it’s tears, and some days it’s falling asleep with such a big smile on my face and not enough words to thank God for bringing me here. Please keep me and the work I am doing in your prayers. It becomes more and more obvious to me every day how essential your prayers and my prayers are to my job and for me. So, thanks. Until next time...which I really can't predict...tchau!!

Sleeping with the windows open will give you some vivid dreams

I've written three posts over the last few days, and when I go back to proofread them before publishing I can't even follow my own thought process, much less expect you to. That right there is evidence to what kind of week this has been! I have so many things to tell you, about my apartment, about my readers, about church, about my friends, about my fundraising, but any time I sit down to write, my thoughts are disjointed and jumbled, very similar to the way it has felt inside my head this week.

So, just wanted to let you know I haven't forgotten about you. To keep you entertained until my thoughts begin to organize themselves, here is a little tour of my new apartment. I spent my first night there last night, and it wasn't as scary as I thought it would be. I did wake up to sunlight flooding my room at 5:19 this morning, however, and it was so bright I was sure I had slept through the day and it was 5:19 pm. I had to double check the clock on my phone to make sure it said AM! The adventure of living in Natal definitely continues, and in many ways a new phase has just begun as I figure out how in the world to light a gas oven with a match...prayers are appreciated. :)