Being a gringa, and other things

In some (most?) places, being called a gringo is derogatory. In fact, I don´t think it is ever a good thing. Here, however, even if being a gringa isn´t necessarily a good thing, I have realized that it gets you invited to some pretty neat places.

In the a city of 30,000 people, I would estimate that about 16 are foreigners, and probably 9 of those foreigners are associated with AEC-TEA. Not too many whities in Capim Grosso. When I walk down the street, I might as well be wearing a sandwich-board-sign that says PLEASE, STARE AT ME AND UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES LOOK AWAY (and obviously this is exacerbated when I am with the Finns - we must look CRAZY when we walk anywhere together!).

As one of the token gringas at a recent party, I was invited to spend some of the weekend at the family farm of neighbor/friend/frequenter-of-aec-tea. I rejected the offer? Because I didn´t really want to go alone with this man and his family? To a farm in God knows where? Question mark? But then the rest of the gang was invited, and we were told there was a POOL, and my new years resolution is to say yes after all, so we went!

The bus dropped us off in a completely random spot off the highway and followed Fernando to a small brick house with a small concrete hole in the ground with some water (uhh.... is that the pool?). Vilma quietly voiced what we were all thinking: ´Where are we?´ It was clearly a family gathering, some might even call it a family reunion... what?? Why were we invited to a family reunion???!! We walked in looking like, well, a pack of gringos who are super out of place. I think one of us probably was actually wearing said sandwich board sign.

However, I feel that all my stories thus far weave the common thread of Bahian hospitality, and this weekend was no exception. Before we could even blink, we all had beers in our hands, invitations to swim, dance, play cards, etc. Merriment ensued as we played games water balloons and pitu (a rank, rank Brasilian rum comparable to Skol in the US), ate some meat whose origin they would not divulge until I tried it first (tripe! cow stomach! liver! ALL OF THOSE!), went on walks, played with a kitten, dominoes, whatever. The party went until late in the evening, we slept on humble little mattresses outside, and when we woke up, one of the first questions was (seriously) ´anybody want a beer?´

The moral of the story is, while I would rather not be called a gringa, I really do appreciate the places it takes me and the people it allows me to meet! And now, after a seriously great weekend, on the agenda is setting up a lesson plan for english classes, which commence tomorrow (ah! tomorrow!!!). Stay tuned!