Photos have arrived

My bedroom & Kathya's House in Manaus

I have been home for a little more than two weeks, and I just got my photos. My plan is to update the blog as if I was still in Brasil, using my journal as documents of my thoughts and our activities. Having been a computer programmer (in other words - anal about flow) this goes against my nature. So for all of you logistical nerds out there - sorry. Where to begin??? That is my dilemma now. I guess I will begin at the beginning.


Heading to Manaus – April 13.


2:00 PM Miami Airport

Great weather. Uneventful plane ride from Philly. Malaria pill at 11 AM and no ill side effects. Note to self: get snacks in Miami before flying home to Philly in 1 month (OMG – an entire month) because we won't get any food on the plane from Miami to Philly.

April 14

1:30 AM Arrive in Manaus

No luggage for the team. It is still in Miami. Customs? Piece of cake, without bags there is nothing to declare. Our host families are all waiting for us, as well as the club President and an Assistant Governor for the District.

We all split up and it is a little scary because none of us know what is going on.


April 14 Monday

9:50 AM

Kathya’s house. Breakfast - mango yogurt, watermelon and pineapple, a little café com leite and the best OJ ever.

Earlier I woke up to the sound of water running and women laughing. At first, I thought it was raining and I was trying to figure out which suitcase I put my rain coat in. Then I remembered I had no suitcases to worry about. The time was 8AM and I knew Kathya was gone because her first class begins at 8 and she said she leaves the house every morning at 7:15. With Kathya already gone, I decided to set my cell phone alarm for 9:15 and I went back to sleep.

Knowing I was going to be wearing the same clothes today, I washed out certain items and Kathya loaned me a blouse. After I ate breakfast, I waited for the van to pick me up and I wrote in my journal.

(Note from the present: I am sorry my tenses are all messed up. This is more difficult than I imagined: Writing about the past in the present from past notes written in the present)