Drizzle

Sunday afternoon. The day thus far has been spent huddled in blankets in the confines of my bedroom, finishing a Steinbeck novel while the morning slipped well into the afternoon. A persistent rain has squelched what little motivation may have resided in my bones. Indeed, the rain has been here for a couple days and it shows no sign of stopping.

Looking out my window I can see the collection of buildings that comprise this corner of Porto Alegre. The ceiling of sky hangs low. Mist, fog, moisture. A curtain of rain blocks my passage into the outside world.

There is no food in the house, save for some bananas and some kind of corn-chip-snack that has already been consumed. So eventually I must break out, lest the hunger turn my thoughts sour on this perfectly melancholy day.

For today marks the end of the honeymoon period. At least that is what the literature says. When arriving in a new country one tends to feel a magnificent rush as all the new sights, sounds, and smells seep in. There is no helping the awe as literally everything is new. Eventually this gives way and subsides as the reality sets in. With all the new scenery comes new responsibility, new language, and new routines to be carved out.

This is only my third time abroad. And only my second time to live abroad for an extended period. But past experience has given me a reference point for this waning sense of wonderment.

To be sure, Brazil has been most all that I had hoped it would be thus far. That is to say the city is bold and rolling with hills and contrasting architecture. The food is meaty, plentiful, and savory. The people are active, engaging, and imbued with a satisfaction that life is all that it should be. And music seems to be available any time one cares to hear it.

Of course, this is what I see through new eyes. I've been here less than three weeks and much remains a mystery.

After scouring the city for anything open--it is Fathers Day (and Sunday)--I find that little is open. Eventually Jenn and I stroll in to Bar do Beto and happily settle into our regular seats. We've progressed beyond the hot sandwich selection and enjoy a hearty helping of meat and veggies. When one eats only one meal in a day...it pays to make it count. We stuff ourselves with food, drink, and conversation. What are we doing here? Why Porto Alegre? Why don't we know the language better than beyond "Thank you" and "I don't speak Portuguese?"

There are certainly lessons to be learned between people who clearly enjoy each other but clearly can't communicate better than say...infants? Maybe that's an exaggeration. But when one relies on body language and hand signals to express affection and approval...where are you, really? You are back in a time of basic and fundamental communication. You are doomed to keep all of your complex thoughts to yourself and simply grin. And laugh. And enjoy. Because where are your complex thoughts getting you, anyway? Onto the psychiatrist's couch? Into a web of self-involved importance? Bah. You are just another cell working your way through the muck. If you're lucky, you may bump into like-minded cells who don't mind it when you must refer to your pocket dictionary to say, "That was delicious." If you're really lucky, that cell will simply nod, and take pleasure in your effort and humility, and be grinning before you can even utter the words.