A PORTA


Friday 2/17/2012


My Portuguese has been getting better, which isn’t saying much since it was pretty much non-existant before.  I have been going to stores alone, like the art store here in Indaiatuba, and been able to understand and speak enough to ask about colors and sizes and canvas.  And I have been able to find my way back to Daniel's office a few times asking for directions in Portuguese.  It's obviously a long way away from "conversational" or what not, but it has only been a week since I've arrived.  

I've never been in a situation before where I am so truly immersed in the culture and language.  It's nice in that it sure speeds up the learning process, but I often think of how much I'd like to know just one American whom I could talk with comfortably.  In the meantime I am focusing on learning Portuguese. I try to follow the conversations of Daniel and his family, read the subtitles on television, listen to portuguese lessons online while washing dishes, and study my portuguese study cards.  But it gets exhausting trying so hard to listen and understand all day.  


It isn't really just the language barrier that makes it difficult to adapt, it's also just not knowing the way things work, how to flush the toilet, knowing if I can drink the water, if there is tax, what clothing are appropriate, or alas how to open a gate or unlock a door...


My first day out of the house alone, I had walked out the door to the appartment complex, but could not exit the gate.  I was literally stuck between the two doors, alone in a parking garage.  I don't have a phone yet, and the apartment was too high up for anyone to hear me.  I waited awhile hoping someone would come, but realized that could be more than just a little while waiting.  I was so excited to go out alone and walk around, and there I was not even able to leave the parking lot.  Finally I found an area of the gate that had a ledge I could climb on to jump over.  So I did, in my sundress and flip flops.   


That was my first time leaving the house alone, and today was my first time coming home alone.  In anticipation of there being a similar issue, I had Daniel's sister explain the keys I needed to get in the house.  She showed me three keys, one for the gate, one for the appartment building, and one for the apartment door.  I looked at them carfully and was very sure which keys to use. 


When I arrived at the appartment the gate key worked, the apartment building key worked, and yet the apartment door would not open.  I tried and tried, I have no idea how many times, in every direction and with all my strenght.  Finally, I left the apartment building yet again to see if there would be someone who could help me.  There was no one.  I went up and tried again, and then back outside to decide what to do.  It was so hot that walking all the way back to Daniel’s office to find out that I have to wait in his office without air conditioning for 3 hours until I could go home sounded awful.  But sitting in the stairwell reading only my Portuguese phrase book for 3 hours sounded equally as awful.  I was really looking forward to laying down and relaxing in front of the fan, listening to music and reading a book.  Then I heard someone coming out of the building.  It was a boy, probably 16 years old, taking out the trash.  I recognized his shirt, it was the uniform for the private school Daniel’s nefew goes to.  For some reason that made me feel a bit at ease talking to him.  

I approached him, and using my broken Portuguese told him I couldn't get into the apartment and asked for his help.  He, like everyone else I've met in this city, was very surprised to see I was not Brazilian.  He was shy and nervous, which I'm not sure was because I was foreign or because I was a girl...or both, regardless he agreed to help me.  In the elevator asked me something in Portuguese that I didn’t understand.  Then he said, "Japanese, Mexican?”  Which at first confused me even more, but then I realized he was probably asking where I was from.  I told him "California" and he nodded, and then there was an awkward silence.  One of the hardest parts about learning a new language is that you feel like you can't really be yourself.  I never feel awkward with people I just meet, I'm friendly and outgoing and I love small talk, but I really didn't know how to do any that successfully in Portuguese, and trying would risk making the situation more awkward or worse, more confusing. 


When we arrived at the apartment door, he tried the key and was having the same trouble I was.  I have to admit that at that point I was wondering if maybe I had gotten the door wrong? I mean I never actually made a mental note it was 34, in fact I never actually made a mental note we were even on the 3rd floor, I just remembered going up that amount of stairs.  I was pretty sure it was one door away from the elevator on the right.  But I couln’t be one hundred percent sure.  I was hoping no body was in there thinking I was trying to break in, that would be embarrassing.  But then I looked down and saw the “BemVindo” foot carpet in front of the door.  I did remember making a mental note that they had this carpet, and the other doors on the floor didn't, so that was encouraging.  


Finally the helpful teenager figured out a way to open the door.  There was a small hole near the top that was no key hole I had ever seen.  It was just circular and it didn’t even look like it could fit any of the keys on the ring, not to mention his sister never mentioned a fourth key.  I had noticed it before, but I thought it was a peep hole or who knows what.  Regardless, I was finally let in, and thanked the boy greatly for his help. 


It's these little details in traveling that get forgotten, but are really a big part the experience.