Doo, Doo, DUUH!

And I'm off. Well, tomorrow. Obviously I can't say that this second, because I have to be in front of a computer typing, and thus can't actually be off. Anyway, it all begins tomorrow. My psyche goes back and forth all the time from passionate adventurer, face painted blue like William Wallace, screaming as I charge forward into the unknown, to this fearful, cynical coward, asking myself all sorts of obvious questions and pointing out self-evident facts aimed at discouraging myself. Dialogues go something like this:

-Do you know the distance between here and your home?
---Well...big
-Yah, huge. And what language do they even speak?
---Well, lots...
-Not English. And did you know there are robbers, and muggings, and drugs, and drug dealers, and mean people who are mean? And they have these crazy leaders who think they are above the law and accuse other countries of being evil?
---Are you talking about my country or the Americas still?
-Whatever. There is a train that leaves Boston at five o'clock traveling west at 30 mph, and another train that leaves from San Francisco at seven o'clock-
---Nine o'clock. I went to Cal Poly, studied engineering, remember?
-Oh yeah. What's an auxilary verb?
---Gah, get out of my head!

All in all though I am excited to be setting out on this adventure. Sometimes I am terrified, but excited and terrified. I know there is so much to learn, so much to see, and so much to gain from this trip. I hope you will help me by praying for me. I will be including a list on the side bar, but will write a more detailed one below:

-Pray for safe, trustworthy travel companions. This is big. I will be spending a lot of time with these people and be changing them a lot as I go.
-The Lord's protection on bus trips, protection from theft and/or harm, and for safe driving.
-Pray I will honor God in my actions and witness as I travel
-That I won't get my camera snagged. I will be taking lots of pictures, probably when I shouldn't (what's the point if I come home with no pictures?).
-Health
-That I pick up the language quickly. Communicating is slightly important.
-A visa for entering Paraguay. Don't have one yet, and will need it pretty soon.
-That my innocent Tahoe/SLO naivety will not shine through, because I am way to trusting, sometimes way to unaware of my surroundings, and way too nice. But also pray I won't be a jerk. =)

Thanks so much for your prayers thus far, your encouragement, and even your emails to just say hi. They mean a lot to me, and it is always great to hear from you guys. Let me know if I can be praying for you in anyway. Other than that, I guess just stay tuned! Love you guys. God bless!

Leo and Taty

Some people have the gift of giving. Not like presents under the Christmas tree giving. It's more...intangible. More real. Never confusing value with significance, they give generously what they have to give. Such is the company I have been staying with for the majority of my time here in Brazil. I briefly met Leo and Taty last summer when I came down for my friend's wedding, spending a few nights in their home. Such was the foundation that we had when they offered me an open invitation to a room in their apartment, and we aren't talking about a night or two. All of us know well the reality of the strain involved when living with someone day in and day out, even if you happen to be good friends. Their is some comfort taken by the fact that they are helping pay that large sum of money you have to give away each month that seems to increase every year. At least you know you are paying for maintenance costs and such. I have been comforted by remembering that fact many times when using a washer that washes but doesn't spin, a dryer that doesn't dry, an oven without numbers on the dial (450 degrees is about riiiggghhht there), refrigerators that freeze, freezers that melt, and outlets with 90 volts on one side and 130 on the other. But I digress.

So not only have I been living with Leo and Taty for almost 2 1/2 months, but I have been doing so free of charge. I try to help out when and where I can. I wash some dishes, buy some groceries, try to cleanup after myself, cook every now and then; meaningless tasks that can never payback the generosity I have received from them. But that is just it; they aren't giving to receive, to get paid back. They are just giving because they have something to give and know someone in need. Despite being a young married couple trying to get established in their lives; despite working full time at the youth ministry in their church for next to nothing, while trying to promote their band (Megafone), traveling all over to play, make contacts, and sell CD's; despite all this, they find a way to take in some American kid looking for a place to stay. My Mom and Dad taught me it is polite to say thank you when someone gives you something. But what do you do when you don't have the words to properly thank somebody? How can you relate to them how sincerely grateful you are for the favor bestowed upon you? I don't really know. Put them on your blog I guess, and simply say thank you. So here's to Leo and Taty.

Cutest Brazilian Girl Ever

Search is over. You can all go home. I found the her, the cutest Brazilian girl ever.

Homeward Bound - A journey of epic proportions

So the blog has a new name. Why? Because it seemed fitting to change it now that my life has taken a completely new direction (plus who didn't love that movie?). As I posted in an earlier blog, I originally came down to Brazil to live, to learn, and to visit my girlfriend. I had plans to go to Costa Rica and spend a couple more months studying Spanish. Two countries, 5 months, go home. Adventurous I suppose. Worthy of the South American Adventure title. But that has all changed now.

I guess it began with my international dating relationship coming to an end. I won’t go into details, just that it didn’t work out, I think we did what was best, I’m sad to have lost it, but happy with where I am, and that it’s a little weird mentioning this on a blog. However, since I have received so many emails inquiring about us, I felt I should mention it here to get everyone on the same page. That said, I have now shifted my plans somewhat…how much? See below:

What you are looking at is the rough itinerary of my travel plans over the next several months. From the glaciers of Patagonia to the coast of Chile, ascending to the dizzying heights of the Andes, plunging into the tropical rain forest on the Equator, all before being sandwiched between two coasts within arms reach in Central America, with some friendly volcanoes for company. From Curitiba, Brasil to the South of South America, all the way back home. The craziest part? To the best of my abilities, no planes. Bus, car, boat, horse, feet, what have you, but minimize the flying unless absolutely necessary. (Like from Ecuador to Panama because getting kidnapped in Colombia just doesn't sound fun.) I will be trekkin’ it, hikin’ it, bussin’ it, and lovin’ it back home. 18 countries, who knows how many months, go home. Epic.

Day to day in the elevator

The elevator. What a wonderful blend of practical efficiency, facilitated laziness, and an invasion of private space. Where else can one's personal comfort zone be so acceptably violated than on a sardine packed elevator? So you wouldn't ever want to stand within 50 ft of that beer gutted individual wearing an "I get more women than Captain Kirk" tank top and having enough body hair to make a wig, yet puzzlingly lacks any on top of his head? Well, now your face is pressed up precariously close to an armpit that can claim more biological diversity than a tropical rain forest, while the already crowded elevator keeps filling up. Beautiful.

There is no short of elevator anecdotes. We all know the one about the silent but deadly outing of some mystery gasser while in a crowded elevator, or the deceptively cute kid turned hellion (or a giant elf from Santa's workshop enjoying his first trip to New York City) who gleefully starts pushing all 85 buttons on your way up to the 80th floor. During my stay here in Brazil, I have had a few interesting experiences myself, and while I wouldn't say most of my elevator adventures in Brazil are as interesting as the above stories, they are somewhat entertaining. Here are a few of the adventures I have had:

Conversations I don't understand...

Brazil has a lot of European descended citizens. The young and well off are also influenced a great deal in American style clothing. So while I don't perfectly blend in all the time, I also don't always stand out either. Besides, since I am living with some Brazilian friends, it is odd to find foreigners in a residential building. As a result, a lot of people assume I am a native Portuguese speaker. This makes for some interesting, one sided conversations where I smile, nod, try to imitate the tone of the conversation with my facial expressions and reactions, and then get off on my floor not having a clue about what we just talked about. Sometimes I think I pull it off. Sometimes I just get blank stares. I think that's when they asked a question I was supposed to respond to. Oh well. Just smile and nod boys, smile and nod.

Getting yelled at by old ladies...

So I am getting a little better at understanding Portuguese. But I have to be paying attention to do so. I can't just interpret what people randomly say around me like I can in English. I have to actively focus on what they are saying. So one day I am talking with a friend on our way into the elevator. In the lobby, 20 feet from the elevator, is a doorman for some extra security, to make sure nobody gets in that isn't supposed to. On the day in question, there were a couple people hanging out in the lobby when we came in, so there is already some side conversations going on in Portuguese. Apparently this elderly woman had walked in a little after us, and wanted to get on the elevator, and had called for us to hold it.

Let me digress for a moment. The elevators in this building aren't like typical elevators in the US. They do have one inner door and one outer door, but the outer door is a hinged door, similar to those we have on houses. When the elevator is not on a floor, that floor's door is locked from being open, and the door must shut for the elevator to work. So same basic idea, just different operating system. Ok, back to the story.

As I said, the woman had apparently called for us to hold the door. But as I mentioned earlier, I have to concentrate to understand what people are saying to me, and I was already talking to my friend and there were other conversations going on in the Lobby as well. How did I know she wasn't saying hello, or asking the doorman a question? Anyway, we entered the elevator, and let the outer door swing shut behind us. She caught it just before it closed, and with fire in her eyes said, "Eu falei segure a porta!" Yeah! Now you know how I felt! I'm telling you, Portuguese is like a foreign language. My friend and I muttered "disulpe" (sorry), and traded a glance, while the woman pushed the button to her floor without taking her eyes off of us. I knew women had a way with looks that can stop a man dead in his tracks, but I found out that the older they get, the more time they have to perfect it. Finally she turned around slowly turned as the elevator started up. Talk about an awkward elevator ride. At least I only live on the fourth floor. As we exited, I thought I felt my back beginning to get hotter, but luckily the door shut before it burst into flames.

Just because it's there, doesn't mean it works...

Correctly at least. It functions. But maybe it stops half a foot beneath the floor level...or half a foot above. Or maybe it has trouble getting started. Don't worry, it just needs to build up tension before jerking up and nearly buckling your knees. Usually that means you are going to have a kidney shaking stop too, so be prepared. And if the sign says the max load is 10 people or a weight of 700 kg (1500 lbs), don't believe it, a let 9 people in. Only let in 4. Or better yet, 3. Otherwise you will sit on the elevator for a minimum of 10 minutes in the same spot, while it just keeps getting hotter and hotter, until you finally start going up at about a cm per second. Then, you will pause again, and be able to see the bottom crack of the door through your eye level window in the elevator. Finally you begin the slow climb up for the next 3 ft, where the elevator will suddenly shutter to a violent stop on floor 1, although it thinks it is on floor 6. Exit immediately, and take the stairs. (this is a slightly unfair assessment, as I might possibly be slightly exaggerating to a minor degree about some things, but not others...and because most buildings have quite nice elevators. If you are up for an adventure though, a good general rule is the older the building, the crazier the elevator.)

My Friend Steve

Hey Guys. I just wanted to let you know about another blog that I have been reading. It is by my friend Steve, who is a good friend and brother in Christ from Cal Poly. Steve is in Kenya right now as a missionary, helping build a medical center designed by some friends at Cal Poly, and then to minister to the street boys of Kisumu through soccer. He formed, coached, and played on a team with these boys, many of whome are addicted to sniffing glue. I love reading about his time there; the adventures, struggles, laughter, tears, and reality of these boys, their situation, and how God is ministering to them through Steve. Below are a couple of my favorite quotes, which I think, speak for themselves. If you want to check it out, you can here: http://steve-kenya.blogspot.com/

From African Safari:

I am probably one of the luckiest white people to come to Kenya in fact. I say this because of my friend Julius...Julius and I learn a lot from each other here at our compound where he works as our night-gaurd. We are great friends. I teach him about American life, Jesus, eschatology, business ethics, and geography. He teaches me about lion killing, elephant tracking, drinking cow blood, being a bush warrior, and man-swallowing snakes that live in the nearby swamp.

From I am okay, just a little emotional:

The second shortest verse in the Bible says that "Jesus wept"...I too wept today. I...was thinking about all the boys that I spent time with today. I was thinking about the ones pulling on my shirt as they looked down at their empty bellies. I was thinking about Kenedy who is repeatedly molested at night by the older boys. I was thinking about my impromtu drug lesson on sniffing glue as I made gun motions at my temple. I was thinking about how many people don't care about these poor, starving orphans here in this city. I was thinking about Ben who came to the streets when he was 5 and is now 20. I was thinking about Franco who wants to be a professional football player. I was thinking about Abel who wanted to be an engineer, but ran out of money after high-school. I was thinking about how rich I am. I was thinking about how full my stomach got tonight at my nice wood table covered in a nice red cloth. I was thinking about a glue bottle stuck to the nose of a seven year old boy. I was thinking about Victor getting beaten and chased my the police last night. I was thinking about Jesus coming back to set this world straight. As I was thinking, I just wept. Steve wept today.

From A Ten Hour Day: Soccer ministry at its finest:

9:30am- the start of our practice. (US time) Sit and wait for Kenya time.

10:21am- the start of our practice. (Kenya time) We jog, do some running lines. One running line looks like we are orengatangs moving along the grass. The we do lots of ball drills. Lots and lots of balls drills. I love it so much!!! We have the best practices in the city by far.

11:45am- Children flock from the nearby primary school for lunch-break to go look at the white man who looks like soccer pro Wayne Roonie. I tell them sorry little friend. We play with a soccer ball with the little ones. I call the game the try to touch the white man's soccer ball while he runs around game.

From Snakes Confessions and Cockroaches:

I will start with snakes...This black mamba showed its ugly self right here in our own compound just a few nights ago...Our dog Nora found the snake and our very Masai (a hardcore, samurai-like African tribe) gaurd did the killing. I had the priveledge of being flashlight boy. It was better than nothing. Our gaurd stunned the snake with a long stick by smacking it ka-ra-te style. Then he took a pipe and smashed its head on the concrete...

For the confessions, I can praise God so much!! One of the boys that plays soccer with me was being honest with me the other day and really opened up to me. He has been reading the Bible since I have been here and God is at work in his heart. He confessed a lot of his sin to me and expressed a desire to change...

Cockroaches were everywhere as I pulled off a rotten piece of wood in the kitchen of our new place. Since Doom (Kenya bug spray) was nowhere to be found I went on a small rampage. Feet, hands, and all were smashing roaches left and right. It was pretty fun for me. I am a bit sadistic at times...

More photos on Flickr

Uploaded some more photos on flickr. http://www.flickr.com/
Search for tahoe_ryan

Maracatu

Ba bumba ba bumba ba bum batta bum, ba bumba ba bumba ba bum batta bum, ba bumba ba bumba ba bum batta bum, ba bumba ba bumba ba bum batta bum. The beats of maracatu, originating from Bahia, a region of Northern Brazil, came to Curitiba yesterday. The group stopped in the plaza below where I lived, so I went to check it out...and guess what, you can too!