While, understandably, most people in my life have absolutely no idea what it is that I do, they do seem to maintain a respectful curiosity. I thought I would feed that curiosity a bit by describing a typical day here in Rio (pt.1) and then go into a bit more detail about what it is that I’m doing here (pt. 2). Get ready, ‘cause it’s a wild and super glamorous life I’m leading down here....(snort laugh)...
First, I get up anywhere between 7 and 8am. Ok, maybe more toward 7:30. Fine...8:15am is when I actually leave the bed. Brush my teeth, take a cold shower, get dressed, do my makeup and head out for breakfast. By the way, the cold shower might sound unpleasant but, trust me, when it’s already in the 80s by 9am, it feels great. I pick the least offensive and most comfortable shoes I can find to wear. The difficulty comes in choosing what to wear. The temperature of my day fluctuates anywhere from 95F to about 72F. Shorts? T-shirt? Light cardigan? It’s always a gamble. And then looking fashionable....forget about it.
Breakfast is always at a little café down the street called A Casa de Pão (The House of Bread). I order just about the same thing every day because it’s so damn tasty. A misto quente (a hot ham and cheese sandwich on a little French loaf), a cafezinho com leite (a little expresso with milk and sugar) and caju (cashew fruit) juice. Sometimes, if I’m feelin’ crazy, I’ll change out the caju juice for mango, orange or honeydew melon. Fifteen minutes later, I’m on my way.
After about 7-8 blocks, I’m at the subway. I pay my ida and volta (go/return) fares and elbow my way (literally) onto one of the super-packed, blissfully air-conditioned cars. I ride the metro for about 6 stops and then get off in the historic center of the city and head towards the Arquivo Nacional (National Archive) located across the street from a huge park. Once inside, the temperature drops into the low 70s for document preservation purposes. A nice archivist at the front desk named Rosanne greets me, I get a little “Researcher” name tag and head into “the pit”.
Ok, so it’s not even unofficially called “the pit” but, if you’ve ever been here, it’s a strangely appropriate nickname. The “pit” is a dark section of cage-like cubicles at which I spend almost 8 hours a day. Each cubicle has a little halogen lamp, an average-sized desktop, a wheely chair, a universal laptop outlet and that’s about it. It’s all very modern—burgundy and silver with exposed brick walls—but also rather cold. At the end of the room are metal shelves filled with packets of browned and yellowed paper, wrapped in white, waxy, acid-free paper and tied with twine. A very chatty archivist with gray hair and a rather rotund figure asks your name and directs you to your stack. The archive requires about 4 days, after you’ve already looked up the documents you want and submitted the paperwork, before you can touch anything. Even then, you have to wear latex gloves and, in some cases, a mask. After gleefully collecting your packet (one at a time), you can take it back to your workspace and begin working.
Wow! Insane, right? But wait, that’s not all!
As most of you know, my native language is English. Guess what language all my documents are in? Not English. Despite being fluent in Portuguese, trudging through hundreds and hundreds (no lie) of papers in a language that isn’t your own is exhausting. Add to it the fact that mine are almost all from the nineteen century (before typewriters). My comprehension of a document, not matter how important, is dependent on the handwriting of some notary from over a century ago. Most are fairly decent but some are downright atrocious. If the mold and bugs haven’t gotten to something already, I can generally understand about 90% of what’s written—on a very good day. Multiply that by 9 months and, technically, I need to have enough usable material to write a book (a dissertation is about the same length). Pressure? Yup. How’s that for living on the edge?
After about 6-8 hours of that (with a lunch break), I gather my things and head home. Stepping outside, I hit a wall of late afternoon heat (generally 90-95 this time of year) and walk towards the subway. Since most archives close around 5:30-6pm, I hit rush hour traffic every day. The metro is EXTREMELY full at the end of the work day. Usually, I wait for a train or two before one comes that isn’t already full to capacity. I squeeze my little self in and force my way out when I arrive at the Largo do Machado stop again. When I get home, the first thing I do is take another shower. Just that short amount of walking and heat exposure leaves me soaked with sweat. A quick rinse and a change of clothes makes it all better. Dinner is usually at an ao kilo (buffet style) restaurant called Gambinos at the nearby plaza.
Ahhh.....Brazilian food. I could write a whole blog just on my undying love of this very special Latin American cuisine. It’s not spicy like Mexican food (only in a few regions), like most people think. It’s generally a lot like American Soul Food. Collard greens, black beans, rice, sun-dried beef, sausage, seafood stews, lots of fresh fruit and vegetables, and, of course, lots of hot, crispy, French bread. Brazilians also drink a lot of coffee. Very strong, very black and usually with a ton of sugar. The best way to round out a good meal. Oh, and the desserts....brigadeiro, bolo de aipim, cocada, quindim, passion fruit mousse, etc. It’s a beautiful thing. Thank goodness I walk so much, I’d come home over 200 pounds if not.
The evenings are the toughest part. Chatting with the hubby, family and friends fills the void but the 3-4 hour time difference (I’m between the US and Europe) makes it complicated to orchestrate. I’ve been reading The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo but only half-heartedly. We don’t have a TV at home yet so, I’ve been in withdrawal a bit. It’s amazing how long the nights are without television! I dare anyone out there to try it for a week. You just don’t know what to do with yourself and you don’t have the energy to invent anything.
That’s all for now. Stay tuned for Part 2. Until then....
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