class (what is that thing again??)

So my idyllic period of traveling was to finally come to a close.  I live in a lovely little neighborhood in Nazare, a neighborhood in the middle of Salvador. The people in the program are all dispersed into different neighborhoods, and to some extent, our social interactions are defined by what neighborhood we live in. For instance, a few of the girls live almost by themselves, creating an isolating effect. Fortunately for me, I live in almost the center of the group. I live in an apartment complex, and a guy named Dylan from our program literally lives above me (I can hear him as he eats breakfast in the morning, as we stutter through Portuguese together with our respective host moms). Britney a girl with intense braids lives 4 houses over, and then 4 more people live within walking distance of us as well (Arissa, Fiona, Natalie and Lea). This makes our alley the defacto hangout zone, which is not the worst thing in the world. We form a walking group, and my house is literally the meeting place (so they can't leave me behind, score!!). It is also convenient for taxis, something we often split between a group.

my host parents

I live in an apartment, with a room all to myself, and there is a kitchen, a laundry room, all the amenities I really need. While it is clear that this is a working class family, they are loving and that what really counts. They also have a fridge, and as testament to their love for me, they told me that I had an open fridge policy, that I was essentially a son in the house, and that they would treat me accordingly. Hopefully I don't make them regret that open fridge policy :)  My host father is a man with quite the large stomach who sells phone credit and phone chips, leaving in the wee hours of the morning and returning around 5 pm and going to the gym at 730. He has his routine down. My host mom is a little harder to place. A lovely woman, she works waaaay too hard. She works two jobs, one during the day, one during the night, as well as taking care of the house. She is a hairdresser by day, with a lot of clients in her beauty parlor dealing with everything from hair to nails, and is a caretaker by night, where she sees to the needs of two very old people (I really wanted to say take care of, but that would be redundant). This left me the question of when she sleeps. She apparently does, but only when the old woman she is watching over sleeps as well, which is hardly the most restful situation she could be in.

For the first few days, we had the afternoon off. On one of these afternoons, we decided to explore the city (and *gasp*, I actually had my camera)

This is the view from the top of the SIT office

A large elevator took us down, and then we were at Mercado Modelo, a major crafts market, and basically a place for tourists to buy trinkets.

One man's store seriously had character. Pictured is Britney drinking from a "water fountain" otherwise known as a penis.

There were a lot of birds flying around

Birds!!

We passed through mercado modelo, and on the other side there were a bunch of capoiera people, doing crazy flips, handstands, basically a mini bale foclorico.

I don't even know how you do this. So people in our group went up and took some pictures with the capoeira people. Then they wanted me to come up, and join them, and I figured, why not. We started doing jenga, the basic footwork, and since I had done some capoeira as a kid, it turned into more of a capoeira match than I expected.

Soon, these guys were kicking repeatedly over my head, and I was like, I am just going to wait until they stop to lift my head up. 

The graffiti in Salvador is off the chain. Everywhere you look, there are these hidden gems. It is like you are in a museum, except you have to search for it a little. 

These are some fences that you really don't want to hop, although I suppose that is the point

I actually did the same trek again with a different group the next day, but I guess I am really starting to know the immediate area.

We entered a pretty cool cathedral

Oh, and there are a lot of strikes. The bank workers decided to strike and this is them

We started class, and I have finally started to feel a regular rhythm to life. I hopefully get up for a run at 7, we leave at 830, and  Portuguese class starts at 930. We have a 2 hour break for lunch, and then a class usually in the afternoon. On the subject of class, I should probably describe it a little for all you at home. Portuguese class is actually really good. I feel like I have been learning a lot in it. I was placed in too high a level, so I switched down to the accelerated first year course. The previous class was teaching the grammar in Portuguese, and I here I barely know what an indefinite article is in english, let alone in portuguese. I have been making progress in portuguese too, able to make basic conversation and even understand some things.

Lunches have been variable. At first we were going to kilo places and literally eating kilos of food at a time, but that gets real expensive real quick, and we soon denigrated to eating salgados off the street. For reference, salgados are fried food that is very cheap, usually between one to two USD. I have also become addicted to these peanut candy things, that I can't pronounce but are delicious and get me my peanut butter fix.

Breakfast is kinda intense here. My host mother is super affectionate, she gives me hugs, she says go with god, and although she speaks nary a word of english, we seem to be able to communicate (usually at least)

She demonstrates her affection through food. Check our the pile of food that she prepared for me. While this breakfast was extravagan and I have since got her to tone it down a bit. But in terms of actually counting what there is: one banana shake (bottom right), a mango, a watermelon, two full cakes, another melon, a papaya, cheese, crackers, meat, and spreads to put on those plus grapes. That is simply too much, even for me.

l found a gym, or rather, my host father already goes to a gym and conveniently showed me where it was. The gym owner is an intense, 6 foot and 220 lb former black belt black man, a man that you certainly don't want to mess with, a man named Hamilton. He showed me the standard gym workout the first week, and kept calling me forte or strong.  In the gym, two things of note happened. One, after I finished the deadlift, I was trying to put away my weights, like a responsible gym samaritan, but the problem was that there was a pole to put them away on, and the weights were 15kg, or approx 35 pounds. I was putting them away, and lifting them up with my hip each time, when I lifted them up again, and it pinched my leg skin in between two plates.
The other thing that happened at the gym was that a legit fight was breaking out. At first two guys were playing around, just congenially kicking each other. When one guy hit the other in the jaw, it got real. They were tangibly angry and demonstrating it with their fists. One was about to go for some weights to pick up and throw at the other when Hamilton intervened, and as you should know from the previous description, he could probably handle both of them and me for watching, all at the same time. And all I wanted to do was bench.

worst bruise of my life

Just a couple more anecdotes, sorry to worry the people back home, but want to give a true depiction of my time in Salvador, both the good and the bad.

We were walking home in a group of about 6 or 7 people, led by one of the host sisters, when we were stopped by two men. They showed us their badges, and apparently they were cops. Oblivious to it all, there had been four men, known crackheads, who had been following our group for several blocks. Two of the girls had separated from the group, lagging behind, and the crackheads were making their move, splitting up in a pincer attack, when the police stopped them at the last possible moment. We were shaken up, but we made it home safely. 

While it was not right after, there was an actual theft at pellerino. Ray, Allison, Allie and I were just sitting at a table in the historical district, in the middle of a plaza and this guy, a wired out black man with stringy muscles, was at first trying to sell us a bracelet, supposed to bring luck, but also supposed to be free. He successfully tied it around Ray's wrist, so we were obligated to pay him, so I paid him for the bracelet, and I thought that was the scam. However, he stayed around,and then he started asking for money and then he started to threaten us, that there were people who had knifes and guns that were his friends, and if we didn't pay him, then they would come in. I didn't believe him personally so I didn't give him any money. I wanted to tell my group to not give him any money but he interjected with "shut the fuck up", and with that I almost got angry. It took some self control to not get out of my chair. The girls at the table were really frightened so when he asked for 20, they just reached into their bras, and pulled out a 50, and he just grabbed that. Again safe, but a little shaken up. 

I swear though, totally safe and secure. There is certainly more (mostly good things) to write about, but that feels enough for now. Oh, and I love my level of work right now, as in, not very much of it.