November.

too much has happened over the past month and a half or however long its been. I can't even recall. There have been struggles, victories, good times, great times, and of course the awkward ones. those are always the best. I have learned so much I feel as if my brain is on the verge of exploding any moment. as it has been consistently feeling with the whole foreign language thing, but I can feel it getting better every day.

So. It is november. and I think....I just may understand portuguese. the linguistic breakthrough has arrived. everything all of a sudden falls into place. I have felt this feeling before, when i scratched the surface of it with spanish after a few weeks in central america. but that was a much smaller extent. Its an interesting sensation. It stabbed at me for a few minutes and caused me to become a bit dazed. watching national geographic and drinking a microwave-made cappuccino, i stopped and stared at the screen of seals on rocks. i understood what the narrator had said. I changed the channel to paraiso, my favorite brazilian soap opera to test myself. harder, of course, because of the dialect, but still good results from my brain. since that happened a few days ago its flip-flopped from clear understanding to semi-choppy, half-understood fuzziness. I still pretty much make up words and have nearly formed my own freaky germanic- romance language mix, choosing english verbs I don't know in portuguese and adding an -ar or -er ending depending on what gender I think it would be if it was real. sometimes they actually work. Its a start. and only the beginning.

my favorite moments around here are the strange ones. the times when I feel like I'm living a dream. When i find new beautifully hidden alleys and avenues on the way to school, when I meet people on the bus who randomly offer me food from the local bakeries, old portuguese people at the park who share with me their favorite life stories. I have grown used to the nearly constant tektonic music and tiny speeding vehicles that question whether or not they should have ever been given a license. yet my only real danger around here are the cobblestones. its a miracle I haven't twisted my ankle yet.

School. oh yeah. school. I keep forgetting I go there. school is basically a huge house party to say the least. especially when you take art. classes scattered here and there, not usually starting until thirty minutes to an hour after the time it was written on the schedule to take place. I vaguely remember when there was this strange thing called punctuality. That shits long gone. so what will we do in class today? eh, paint a bit, play some music, draw classmates, the usual. then our teacher typically brings some incredibly delicious bolachas (cookies) and we get round in circle talking about stuff while munching on yummy snacks. then perhaps a siesta back at home. yep yep.

oh, and did i mention i'm almost completely accustomed to the beijinhos? maybe i have changed so far.