School for Samba

Last night we went to see a samba school rehearsal. While Carnaval remains more than two months away, preparations have been underway for months and this particular school, Mangueira, holds a weekly musical rehearsal on Saturday nights.

In typical gringo fashion, we showed up about an hour and a half too early (our mistake!) Megan did dance; no the world didn’t end. Matt, to our surprise (and the surprise of most people there) dances the samba quite well.

Let me describe it this way: It’s 85 degrees, you’re in a large tin warehouse. The speakers are turned up so loud, you won’t be able to hear for days, and there’s a 60 piece drum corps banging away. Beers are cheap. The 800 or so people next to you are moving in ways you honestly didn’t think possible, but you might like to imitate. Most importantly, everyone has a smile on their face.

It was definitely a night to remember – but also one to recover from.

Thanksgiving in Rio

Our Brazilian Thanksgiving wasn't quite the same as an American one, but we definitely had fantastic meal nonetheless. Our kitchen is a bit small for cooking such a large meal, so our friend Cari offered to have Thanksgiving at her place. Despite not being able to get a turkey, we were still able to make a near-complete traditional Thanksgiving meal. We even managed to transport the famous Campbell's-soup broccoli casserole to the southern hemisphere!

Giving Thanks

Celebrating an American holiday in another country is really not that bad. It’s like having this secret all day that makes you happy, hidden from the majority but somehow all the more special for it.
Shhhh...it’s Thanksgiving.

Plus, the lack of food induced stupors and shopping mania can allow me to really focus on what I’m thankful for this year. There a wide range of choices, but there’s one thing in particular to which I really feel obligated lately: technology.

I admit to hypocrisy about this last statement. Before embarking on this trip, I was definitely something of a technophobe: I hated my cell phone, sneered at all iPhone users, and routinely lied about the existence of my Facebook page out of shame.

But since leaving on this trip, technology , in all its varied forms, has become my true companion. With the push of a button, I can chat face to face with friends and family thousands of miles away. (Really! Skype us anytime at Matthew Barton.) My entire collection of music is accessible in the palm of my hand and a very generous library of books is digitized on my computer. E-mail is always accessible to pester people with all the random thoughts that fill my head. This blog, even, to share the stories and pictures from half way across the world. Yes, even I have to admit that technology has been valuable to me this year.
Almost invaluable really....

During one of the many blackouts that plagued us the first week in Rio, I tried to comfort myself with thoughts of the silver lining. Look, I thought, how many times do you get to fall asleep listening to the waves of the ocean and not the electric hum of humanity? When people first discovered new land, they didn’t have electricity or laptops either. Isn’t that a truer experience anyway, without all the trappings of technology?

No, it’s really not, I decided. I suppose I will never have the benefit of stepping foot on land that has never been sullied by human touch. But then again, those people never had the benefit of watching football on Thanksgiving with their family from 5000 miles away.

It’s amazing of a different sort, but amazing all the same. And I am most thankful.

Distilled Happiness

Upon learning that I was going to live in Brazil for 9 months, I fielded a wide range of questions. One that was delivered with perhaps the most perplexity, was “What are you taking with you?” A valid question, if there ever was one. Indeed, figuring out what to fit into two suitcases and a carry-on for 270 days is quite similar to the proverbial desert island question. What things can you not live, I mean really not live, without?

Luckily, clothing was the easy part. For a climate that only varies about 20 degrees year round and a society that prides itself on its partially clothed existence, clothing is really a no-brainer. Nope, it was really the rest of the stuff that poised a problem. And so I packed things that gave me comfort and peace, things that were familiar and restful: in short, I packed happiness.

Books took up most of my suitcase, 26 of them to be precise; a number which might seem startlingly small with my reading habits, but I’m sure I’ll survive. Several photo frames and a small photo album, just to keep things homey. Travel Scrabble and 2 decks of cards for Canasta, essentials for someone like me with quite the competitive streak. Too many products from Bath n’ Body Works because there’s nothing more relaxing then a luxurious shower. Spices from the venerable Spice House in Chicago, practical and indulgent at the same time. A mini scrapbook album, to keep my hands engaged while my mind wanders.

When I finally finished packing, I stepped back and cast a critical eye over my two suitcases. Since leaving Chicago, I had been discarding belongings like a snake sheds it’s skin. But after the throwing and giving away, the storage unit, my mother’s house, finally everything I would own in the world was down to these two suitcases. This was my happiness, distilled.

Yes, I know. “Things” cannot give you true happiness. And that may be right to a certain extent, for all these things that I was dragging across half the world do not create happiness in and of themselves; they simply are the triggers for the happiness already inside me.

But what a great exercise, yes? Grab a suitcase, put your happiness inside. These things represent everything I love in the world: knowledge, sweet smells, storytelling, fierce competition, memories, and familiar flavors. Things that will always be with me, no matter where or how long I travel.


I envision myself 20 years in the future, surrounded by a large beautiful home, with lawns and dogs and cars. But I will never bring myself to throw away this relic, a remembrance of a time when happiness did not sprawl across half an acre, but instead existed in it’s purest form: a suitcase.

Come Walk With Me...

One of the things that I like best about Rio so far is the beach culture. Now, hailing from Florida myself, I am not easily won over on just any beach, or little strips of sand pretending to be beaches (*cough, Chicago). But Copcacabana beach has a vibe that is truly unique, chaotic and social, commerical and physical. But above all, it’s fun...

One of the first things you notice about Copacabana beach is the immense, patterned sidewalk that stretches the whole length of the sand. The black and white pattern itself is very iconic of Copa, having been created by renowned Brazilian architect Burle Marx, and can be found on numerous tourist items. This sidewalk is constantly filled with people, whether they’re walking their dogs, hawking some kind of beach food, or just taking an evening stroll by the beach.

Every 50 feet or so, you’ll also run into one of these things. Beach kiosks, as omnipresent as the sand, but oh so much more enjoyable. Offering everything from caipirinhas to ice cream, they’re constantly packed with people who just like to sit and watch the beach action. My favorite thing that they serve are chilled coconuts, which the vendors cut into with giant machetes and then stick a straw into it. Mmmm, fresh coconut water!

Some enterprising beach bums earn a living with building these fabulous sand castles along the beach. They range from the fantastical, to the slightly risque, but all are wonderfully and artistically done. Watching them work on these sand artworks is an exercise in futility: you still don’t understand how they possibly have the patience to do that kind of work.

And finally, you eventually can’t help but notice all the interesting sports that people play on the beach. Everyone from small little kids learning beach soccer to old men playing paddle ball. And trust me it’s all a lot harder then it looks (how fast can you run in the sand?) But by far my favorite new sport is one called “futevolei”. Yes, that’s right, volleyball played without the hands. Don’t believe me? Check out this video we managed to snag below. And a word to my family: you better start practicing now, because this is what we’re going to play the next time we’re around for the 4th of July.

Rio by Numbers

104 Temperature, in degrees Farenheit, on our second day in Rio

60+ Suggested SPF for “loiros e ruivos” (pasty-white people like us) on the electronic information board at the lifeguard station in Copacabana.

10,000 Estimated value, in US Dollars, of an American passport on the Brazilian black market

18 Number of bug bites within 24 hours of arriving in Rio

2.3 Average number of showers, per person, per day since we’ve arrived in Rio

.80 Cost, in US Dollars, of an ice cream cone

400 Projected ice cream expenditures, in US Dollars, for next nine months

52,849 Population density, in people per square mile, of Copacabana (just for reference, Hyde Park: 18,148; Port Charlotte: 1,943)

Welcome to Brazil!

Ola! We just touched in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil 2 days ago and we're already loving it. Matt, of course, has already been here many times, but I'm enjoying it for the first time in a very touristy way. It is an incredibly beautiful place, unlike anything I've ever seen before: imagine a jungle next to beach that somehow has a city intertwined between the two.

Check out this view from our apartment:

If it makes you feel any better, our apartment is really really tiny. We'll make sure to blog in the upcoming months about everything form soccer to samba, so check in regularly.

The Top Five Best Responses to the Brazil Trip

* the following post contains profanity

As you can imagine, when you first tell people that you are moving to Brazil for a year, they don’t really believe you at all. After they’re finally convinced that you’re possibly not lying, people usually get pretty excited about it, all for various reasons. I’ve gotten a lot of encouragement (and warnings) about living in Brazil, but these were, by far, the best five:

5)Why are you going to Brazil? Are you pregnant?

-random female co-worker

4)Brazil...isn’t that where Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid ran off to?

- my father

3)Brazil...you know they kidnap people like you in Brazil.

- my brother

2)Brazil... just think of all those hot Brazilian men!

- random male co-worker

1) You’re moving to Brazil? F@*#%n’ cool!
- husband of a friend


The last one, despite it’s profanity, or perhaps because of it, is by far my favorite. It was delivered with such sincerity, such aplomb and such quickness. The night that I got that response, I was worried about a million details everything from sunscreen to airplane tickets to storage units. Moving to another country is obviously not easy, and in the midst of all the stress and bustle, somewhere I had forgotten how very amazing it was to have this opportunity.

So when my apartment is the size of a shoebox, or it feels like 114 degrees outside, or I’m pissed because the concept of pasteurization is not an international one, I think back to that comment. You know what? I’m living in Brazil. And it’s f *#%@n’ cool.