Wherever you go...

The agriculture extensionist arrived for the biofertilizer workshop, and Marcio's neighbor introduced me to them.

One was named Jose Abram.

Upon hearing his name, Marcio's neighbor asked if he was Jewish. He said he was.

His family had arrived to the Brazilian Amazon with the rubber boom at the beginning of the 20th century.

There are so many people and places in Brazil with names related to the bible that I didn't think anything of it when I heard the name "Abram."

What are the odds?

I took advantage of this opportunity to interact with a Portuguese-speaking MOT to help with the keywords to explain a kosher diet to Brazilians. FYI:

Ruminant - Ruminante
Split hooves - Tem pata fenginda

_________________________________________________________________________________

When Avery and I arrived in Belo Horizonte, our Couchsurfing host met us at the airport. As we were riding in the bus on the way to her house, she asked if we were Jewish (She thought the photo of my lassoing a cow on my CS profile had something to do with kosher). It turns out that she was Jewish, too. Over the next few days, I also met her sister, niece, and father.

There are only a few hundred Jews in Belo Horizonte, and I met five of them without even trying.  There are a couple of synagogues in BH, a Jewish high school, and a place to buy kosher meat.

Biol workshop

Biol is an aneaerobically produced, organic fertilizer that can be applied to the soil or to foliage. I had some experience making it in Ecuador and teaching fellow volunteers how to make it.

In fact, one of my friends helped his community create a factory to produce up to 300,000 liters per year.

I was telling Marcio about it during lunch, and he asked me to write down the instructions for how to prepare it. He said he was going to make a trial batch the next week.

As we were finishing lunch and cleaning up the dishes, Marcio's neighbor came over and explained that some extensionists from the government's agriculture assistance would be arriving in the next hour to make biofertilizers.

I looked at Marcio, and we started laughing. He claims to have had no idea about the workshop. And I actually believe him.

This was a great opportunity to take advantage of Marcio's enthusiasm for this new idea.

Two weeks without a blog post and the first picture you get is a barrel of cow manure.

Marcio said he was going to use the workshop as a test to see if I knew what I was talking about. The extensionists arrived and explained the uses, preparation, and application for biol.

Every time they confirmed something that I had said, Marcio would look over at me with a big grin on his face.

The list of ingredients that the extensionists used in their biol were a little different than the ones I had, but the principle was the same: Let manure ferment with sugar and milk for a month and half in an anaerobic environment.

Marcio said he was going to try with my recipe and compare the results. If he achieved good results, he planned on exploring the possibility of selling the biofertilizer commercially.

Anyone who has worked with biofertilizers has many hilarious stories about mishaps. I have my own fair share, and I have heard some classics from other PCVs. Peace Corps fertilizer stories would make a great book.

Inhotim Modern Art Museum

Twenty minutes away from my host family's house a mining magnate decided to build a massive modern art museum.

It opened about six years ago and is more of a living museum than a modern art museum. Mixed in between all the modern art exhibitions is a large botanical garden with plans from the rare Mata Atlantica ecosystem, the local highlands, and select species from around the world.

My host mom had never been to the museum before and wanted to go. She just never had a good enough reason. Then I showed up and told her I would like to go. She got very excited.

We planned to go with my host sister and some neighbors the day before the July vacations ended (schools are on vacation in Brazil for the last couple of weeks of July). It also happened to be a Tuesday, which meant the museum was free.

I don't think she had ever been to an art museum before, and I was really interested to see how she would react to modern art, especially because I sometimes have trouble understanding it. (I am not claiming that I know much about art. I'm just saying this because I have been to a few art museums.)

We were going to go to the museum on Tuesday after lunch. Ten minutes after eating lunch and washing my dishes, I was ready to go. My host mom and sister hadn't showered yet. An hour and half later, they were ready to go. We arrived at the museum at 2:00.

Whenever my host dad has to wait for his wife, he says "Before you find a wife, you need to find patience. Because without the patience, the wife won't last very long." Going to the art museum with five women also requires some patience.

The works were spread out throughout the grounds with several hundred meters of lovely park-like trails between the buildings housing the different works. We would walk to a building, spend about five to ten minutes looking at the work, trying to understand it or internalize it before moving on to the next one.

I think my host mom just enjoyed the park-like scenery between the buildings.

There was an exhibit about VW Beetles, which she really liked because she also drives an old Beetle.

There was another exhibit where they have a bunch of block letters strewn about the grass, and museum visitors can write words.

I think my favorite part of the day was when some kids decided to tree a pool that was part of an exhibit as a swimming pool and all jumped it. They had a great time for 20 minutes until museum staff told them it wasn't for swimming.

I had asked my host dad if he was interested in going to the museum. He said he doesn't think modern art is art. He thought farmers don't enough credit for being artists on the land.

A day on the farm

I know the loyal blog readership is dying to know what a typical day on Marcio's vegetable farm is like. 

5:30 a.m.: Marcio wakes up and checks the thermometer he keeps outside the front door. He makes a note of how cold it is so he can tell everyone else in the family how cold it was when he woke up.

5:45 a.m.: Marcio prepares and drinks his morning coffee, which he accompanies with some treats he bought from Bem-vindo at the previous market day. For those that did not finish reading the previous post, Bem-vindo is the name of the candymaker who sells next to Marcio at the market. His name also means "welcome' in Portuguese. After every meal, we would eat some Bem-vindos, which are always bem-vindos.

My host mom works for a mining company in the next town over. She leaves for work at this time.

6:00 a.m.: Marcio would feed the chickens and start on the day's harvest.

6:15 a.m.: I wake up, drink some coffee, enjoy some Bem-vindos, and eat a banana. It is not very common for people in Brazil to eat fruit with breakfast. They think I'm nuts for how much fruit I consume, which is pretty much what everybody else thinks about how much fruit I consume.

6:30 a.m.: I head out to the fields, where Marcio greets me with a "good afternoon" and tells me that it was 4 degrees Celsius when he woke up.  Then he'll tell me how many vegetables we need to harvest in the morning. Greens are measured and sold in dozens of bunches. A "bunch" is not the most scientific term of measurement. My measuring stick for a "bunch" is that I can almost wrap my hand around all the stalks when they are pushed together.

Most days, we will have to harvest about 30 dozen bunches of mustard, two dozen bunches of arugula, six bunches of collard greens, and 12 dozen heads of lettuce.

7:00 a.m.: Marcio's neighbor, and assistant on the farm, shows up. When this community formed as a result of agrarian reform, all the settlers received equal amounts of land. Marcio's neighbor has the same amount of land as Marcio but plants cassava, small amounts of other vegetables, and has a bunch of chickens. He never developed the same business opportunities that Marcio did and has a reputation in the community for being an alcoholic.

7:30 a.m.: At this time, Marcio will probably point out that he has gathered many more dozen mustard bunches than I have. To which I respond that he has been doing this for thirty years, and I have been at it for a week. He once saw me typing and was amazed at how quickly I was doing it. I said that it would be the same thing if he tried to write something on the computer.

8:30 a.m.: I was once told that you know you are getting a foreign language down when you start dreaming in that language. What does it mean when you start dreaming about mustard greens? Marcio told me that the mustard greens that I harvest in my sleep don't count toward the daily quota.

9:30 a.m.: At this point, the neighbor will start to collect all the bunches of mustard we had already gathered as we get close to our daily quota. He gets crates from the washing station at the bottom of the hill and fills each crate with four dozen bunches of mustard.

10:00 a.m.: At this point, I will carry the crates of mustard down to the washing station, immerse them in the water, and prepare them to be transported.

10:30 a.m.: Now is time to harvest arugula, which is a much slower process than mustard. It's a bit more tedious, and I'm still getting the hang of it. I show Marcio the bunch of arugula that I was working on. He looks at it and tells me that we should be harvesting arugula and not weeds.

11:00 a.m.: We stop work for the morning and head back to the house to prepare lunch. We have to prepare lunch, eat it, and get my host sister to the school bus by 12:00. If she misses the bus, Marcio has to drive her 15 minutes to school. She hates missing the bus just as much as Marcio does.

11:20 a.m.: Start cooking the rice and reheating the beans. I go out to the farm to pick some greens and lemons for salad.

11:40 a.m.: My host sister reminds Marcio that he has 20 minutes until the bus passes.

11:42 a.m.: My host sister reminds Marcio that he has 18 minutes until the bus passes.

11:44 a.m.: My host sister reminds Marcio that he has 16 minutes until the bus passes.

11:45 a.m.: Start eating lunch.

11:47 a.m.: My host sister reminds Marcio that he has 13 minutes until the bus passes.

11:53 a.m.: Finish eating lunch.

11:55 a.m.: Marcio and my host sister get in the pick-up truck to get to the bus stop just before the bus passes. Everyone wins. I do the dishes.

12:10 a.m. I enjoy a few minutes on the hammock with a book.

12:15 p.m.: One of my host brothers comes home from school, looks at what was made for lunch, and decides to eat something else, leaving all the food on the table.

12:30 p.m.: After my host brother finishes lunch, I help him peel and wash cassava to sell at market. This is one skill that I developed in Ecaudor. With a good knife, I can keep up with the Brazilians.

1:30 p.m.: After finishing with the cassava, I help Marcio harvest lettuce. He says it's important to make a clean cut when harvesting lettuce. That way the lettuce will stay firm for longer. He doesn't let anyone else harvest his lettuce. I pick up the lettuce that he cuts and put them in crates. Once the crate if full, I carry it down to the watering station, throw some water on them, and head back up for another crate.

2:30 p.m.: Coffee break for the Brazilians. Coffee, banana, and orange break for Ian.

2:45 p.m.: Help Marcio fix a problem with his irrigation system.

3:00 p.m.: Marcio turns on the irrigation system. He can't water the entire field at once because his system doesn't have enough pressure. He can harvest one row at a time. The rows have to be switched manually. Each row should get water for about ten minutes. I spend the next hour making sure all the plants get enough water.

4:00 p.m.: Help Marcio make the final preparations to take the vegetables we harvested today to the wholesaler in the next town over.

4:45 p.m.: My host mom and host sister come home.

5:15 p.m.: I head with Marcio to the next town over to turn in the day's harvest and find out how much they want for tomorrow. If we get there early enough, I might be able to get to the internet cafe for 20 minutes to check email and call home.

7:00 p.m.: Get back home and start preparing something for dinner. Every night, my host mom would prepare rice and beans for dinner. I would take the opportunity to make something else for them. They really liked roasted potatoes.

7:45 p.m.: Finish dinner and dishes. Sit down with the family to watch soap operas, which I can take for about 20 minutes before heading to my room to read. As soon as the "Danza Kuduro" song comes on for Avenida Brasil, I take that as my cue to go to sleep.

Updated forecast

Ten days ago, my host dad boldly predicted that it will rain in the next ten days.

The first day after he made this bold prediction, there were some clouds in the sky. The next day, there were fewer clouds in the sky. Since then, there wasn't a cloud in the sky for the next eight days.

At the end of the ten days, he offered a new forecast.

"It might rain in the next ten days. Then again, it might not."

Market Day

Twice a week, my host dad runs his vegetable stand in Belo Horizonte - the major city city located an hour and half from the farm. Here is the hour-by-hour recap of the first day I worked it with him.

12:30 a.m.: Wake up with gripe. I waited in bed, sneezing, until Marcio told it me it was time to go. Since arriving in Ecuador in February 2009, I contracted a chronic case of the gripe. I don't know what caused this bout — probably a combination of dust in the air, cold weather, hot showers, wet clothes, taking a shower at the wrong time of day, cats, monkeys, the moon, etc.

1:00 a.m.: Get out of bed. It was about 4°C outside. I pulled my winter hat out of my bag for the first time since leaving Quito and put on most of my wardrobe (Think Senka from Cool Runnings). My host dad drives an old Chevy pick-up truck that has been through many battles, but he wouldn't trade it for a brand-new one. It has seen so many parts changed in its several decades on the road that the only original part remaining is probably the Chevy logo on the hood.

1:15 a.m.: Leave for Belo Horizonte. I wasn't tired for the first half hour of the ride, then I woke up. It was 3:00, and we were already in Belo Horizonte.

3:00: Arrive at Mercado Novo in Belo Horizonte to pick up produce that my host dad doesn't produce on the farm. I took advantage of this time to sleep in the front seat of the pick-up truck and take make my standard early morning visit to the urinal. Whenever I eat a lot of rice, I have to pee in the middle of the night. I talked about this with PCVs in Ecuador, and they agree. I talked about this with my host family in Brazil, and they laughed. 

4:30 a.m.: Set up stand in downtown Belo Horizonte. My host dad sells his vegetables in two spots in Belo Horizonte. One of them is in the middle of the city center. His friend Horacio manages this spot.

4:50 a.m.: Horacio showed up. Continue setting up the tent.

5:15 a.m.: Finish setting up the first stand. Head to my host dad's other spot.

5:30 a.m.: Arrive at the other location and set up stand. My host dad has a routine, perfected after fifteen years of selling fruit on the same corner. I try to help when I can and not get in the way the rest of the time.

6:00 a.m.: First customers arrive. My host dad has the same first customer every day. She works at a local television station. He told her I worked as a journalist in the U.S.

6:15 a.m.: Sunrise.  The first wave of customers shows up after getting their bread at the bakery next door. When I explained to Marcio that my goal while staying with him and his family was to learn as much as possible, he resolved to take advantage of every opportunity to teach me as much as posslbe. He decided to go to the bakery and get bread and coffee. When he came back, he said, "Now, I'm going to teach you the proper way to eat breakfast."

He brought the bread and coffee back from the bakery, sat down on a crate, and displayed proper form in consuming breakfast. Then he told me I should put in practice what I just learned.

6:30 a.m.: Go to bakery next door for breakfast. Marcio said I learned quickly. His only critique of my form was that I didn't ask for a glass cup for my coffee, which would have saved me 10 cents. I wanted to blame my professor for not sharing this detail with me, but he wouldn't hear any of it.

6:45 a.m.: Continue to sell vegetables. There is a steady stream of clients arriving, mostly elderly women from the neighborhood and people who live in the apartment building next door. They have all been buying their groceries there for years and know my host dad. There is great banter between them, especially when a new element (e.g. a North American assistant) is introduced to the equation.

9:30 a.m.: Marcio went to the restaurant across the street for his second breakfast, which consisted of Pao de Queijo and coffee. Pao de Queijo is known in Ecuador as Pan de Yuca. However you refer to it, it is delicious.

9:45 a.m.: Continue hawking vegetables. The vegetable stand is on a relatively quiet corner, so I don't need to put as much effort into selling the produce as your typical Mahene Yehuda vendor does.

11:00 a.m.: Take down the first stand.

11:30 a.m.: Drive to Horacio's stand where we leave the car to get lunch and take a brief break. There is another stand next to Horacio's that also participates in the same program as Marcio but sells homemade sweets. The guy who runs it is named Bem-vindo, which is Portuguese for "welcome." He is a great guy, and the candy he makes might be even better.

11:45 a.m.: I think my host dad has eaten at the same lunch spot twice a week for 15 years. It is located a block from his downtown stand. He knows everyone working there and continues his fun banter with them. It is a buffet place where, for six dollars, you can put as much food as you want on one plate.

12:30 p.m.: Leave my host dad to enjoy the last few minutes of his lunch as I go to check my e-mail for the first time in a couple of days.

1:30 p.m.: Return to the vegetable stand to help my host dad pack things up.

2:00 p.m.: Start driving home.

2:45 p.m.: Pick up my host mom from the bank at a city in between Belo Horizonte and Brumadinho. She had left her phone in her purse when she was in the bank and didn't answer any of my host dad's 8 missed calls. He didn't know where she was and was on the verge of continuing to drive home when she finally answered.

3:15 p.m.: The car's transmission goes. It seems that this is not the first time he has had this problem. He has all the tools he needs to fix it. Luckily, the car broke down in front of a sugar cane juice stand that also sells some fried delicacies.

3:30 p.m.: Continue driving

3:33 p.m.: Transmission does again. Unfortunately, it didn't happen in front of a fruit stand this time. I took advantage of this time to read the three-day old newspaper that was sitting on the floor of the car. Although the news was old, the language is still new to me.

4:00 p.m.: Continue driving again.

4:45 p.m.: Arrive at home.

The weather report

My host dad and I were harvesting lettuce the other day when he gazed at the ominious-looking clouds in the sky.

Host dad: It´s going to rain.
Ian: When? Should we get some of the tools inside?
Host dad: No, there´s no rush. It will rain in the next ten days.

In Ecuador, I was used to be people predicting rain on a moment´s notice. No one planned for rain in the next week or two weeks. Most rain predictions came hours or minutes before the heavens opened up.

When I asked my host dad about how certain he was, he said ´´It might rain. It might not rain.´´ Then he kind of shrugged his shoulders and continued with his work.

The next day, he looked up at the sky, paused for a second, and declared that it will rain in the next nine days. He spoke with the same certainty as he did the previous day.

I asked him if he ever considered a future as a meteorgologist. He said that they would fire him after the first broadcast.

We simulated his initial, and only, show:

Anchor: Now, with the weather, we have Marcio.
Marcio: Good afternoon, everyone. After looking up at the sky and checking out the radar, I can say with certainty that it might or might not rain in the next 10 days. Back to you.
Anchor: Thanks, Marcio. I guess everyone should keep their umbrellas handy. You could use it as a parasol if the rains don´t come.

I´ll keep you posted on the accuracy of his forecast.

Goals two and three

Peace Corps has three goals. The first one is technical assistance. The second two are related to cultural exchange.

Goal two is to share American culture with the local population. Goal three is to teach Americans about the local culture.

I know I'm no longer a volunteer, but I will forever refer to moments of cultural exchange as "goal two" or "goal three" moments.

I was hanging out in the kitchen with my host family the other day when my host mother asked me: "We have eggplants and don't know what to do with them. How do you prepare eggplants?"

I told them that there are many ways to prepare eggplant, but my favorite was is to make eggplant parmesan. I warned them that it's probably one of the most complex ways to prepare it, but that it's worth the effort.

It took little convincing for them to agree to try it.  While we were discussing other options for the menu, the subject of dessert came up.

My host mom asked if I had ever tried "Banana quente con sorvette e canela" (Baked banana with ice cream and cinnamon) I told her that I hadn't.

She resolved that we were going to make it for dessert for lunch.

I asked her if she had ever tried chocobananas. She said that she hand't.

I resolved that we were going to make it for dessert for dinner.

Everything was delicious. Everybody liked the new foods so much that we resolved to make them all again before I leave. My host dad is deathly afraid of onions. No one knows why, but he was really afraid of my tomato sauce. But in the end, he ate several servings of the eggplant parm and is one of the biggest proponents of the dish's return to the dinner table.

To make the Brazilian dessert, you need to bake the banana in the over with the skin. Everything else is pretty similar to your traditional banana split.

It´s your birthday, really?

Monday was my birthday. I didn't want to make a big deal out of my birthday with my host family, so I didn't tell them.

They have been treating me so well that I didn't want any more attention.

It just so happened that Monday at lunch my host mom asked me what my horoscope sign was.

Ian: Leo

Host mom: Leo... That's August. Right?

Ian: No. July.

Host mom: July? When?

Ian: Today.

Host mom: Today? Really?

Ian: Yes.

Host family: (Pandemonium ensued)

After they regained composure, they resolved to make me a birthday party - even though I told them that I really didn't want to do anything.

The more that I insisted on not doing anything the more they insisted on doing something.

They said that, at the very least, I needed to go to town to call me mom. I agreed. I just didn't want them to go out of their way to do anything for me. They had to go to town anyway to sell mustard, arugula, and lettuce.

When we were in town, they bought a birthday cake. My host sister decorated the candle. They made fish, rice, and beans. I made potatoes with rosemary and garlic (I made this dish once in Arenillas, and my friend Rosa asks me to make it every time I go back). The neighbors came over. I was in bed by 9:15 p.m. - just in time to hear my favorite soap opera's theme song.

It was a great birthday dinner.

Love at first song

I had really enjoyed my first few days in Assentamento Pastorinha.

I was really getting along well with my host family. The work and sleep schedule were very agreeable. The food was delicious.

But it wasn't until the subject of music came up that I knew that I would love this place. It happened on my third day.

I was playing soccer with the kids when one of them came up to me and asked if I liked "Danza Kuduro."

If you have spoken to me at all in the last two years and the subject of music has come up, you know what I think of Don Omar's classic (I know it has only been out a couple of years, but I think it can already be called a classic).

It seems that Danza Kuduro fever has permeated all of Brazilian culture.

My first Kuduro experience in Brazil was my first night in Brazil. We were on our boat from Tabatinga to Manaus.

I was trying to go to sleep on my hammock when I the chorus to "Danza Kuduro" playing in the background. I didn't think anything of it because the chorus is always playing in my head. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep again. Fifteen minutes later, those same 15 seconds of the song came on again.

It turns out that, for once, I wasn't the only one with those catchy beats stuck in my head. It is the theme song to the most popular soap opera in Brazil.

The next night, the same thing happened. I was trying to go to sleep, only to be caught in the chorus of my favorite song.

My host family on the farm is also following the soap opera. So every night at 9:00 p.m., they — and the entire country —  tune in to learn the latest developments in Avenida Brasil.

I stay up late enough to hear the theme song, and then I go to sleep.

There are too many characters and too many plots twists for me to know what's going on. Plus it comes on so late at night that I'm already Portuguese'd out at that time.

It doesn't matter. It's already my favorite soap opera - and will continue to be as long as it keeps the same theme song.

As long as the Kuduro experiences continue, I'm sure I'll continue to enjoy my time in Brazil.

(I will let you know of any Kuduro moments I have in future.)