First day in Sao Paulo

I walked for 30 or 40 minutes before I found the subway station. Of course it was the wrong one. Confused, I stared at the metro map and pondered as to how I would connect to the 'other' blue line. I asked a man of my age, who couldn't speak English, but was able to roughly converse in Spanish. He pointed out the way and introduced me to my guide for the next 20 minutes, an 11 year old girl who spoke fluent English, and her mute mother. She assisted me on the connection bus, led me to the green subway line, always looking back to make sure I was there, and showed me where to connect for the 'real' blue line. She was on her way to school, so we chit chatted while her mother stared there and smiled, no doubt proud and pleased that her daughter's education was worth the money. We discussed the pros and cons of private/public schools (she likes private schools better because they are private and because she gets to sleep in later) and her aspirations to one day travel to New York, Rome (she has Italian heritage), Paris, Buenos Aires, and of course Vancouver (after I mentioned where I was from - she had watched the olympics). 

After cramming a completo (hot dog with everything!) in my face, I connected up with my supervisor who was actually surprised to see me on time (or there in general, I wasn't sure). We took her car through Diadema to some university. I have no idea which one. There was going to be a work shop with the catadoras (Brazilian recyclers/waste pickers) on the uses of a computer. I was to sit in, meet some people, and watch the show. After introductions, Jutta had to leave and I was flying semi-solo.

Shortly after Jutta's departure, the class of adults became a little restless. No teacher had arrived. So, being absolutely not fluent in Portuguese whatsoever, it was decided that I would teach the class. I would converse in broken Spanish to a semi-fluent Spanish speaker who would then translate. The lady talked to me rapidly in what seemed to be Spanish with a heavy Portuguese accent (it was probably just Portuguese with Spanish sprinkled about, like rainbow sprinkles, on a donut, or something metaphorical like that). After a 2-3 minute spiel, I picked up "teach, computer, email, password". I shrugged my shoulders and looked at my now attentive audience of 20 or so individuals. I casually started up the overhead projector. Yeah why not. Teaching about computers, not a big deal. I began to ramble off in sub-par Spanish with regards to computers, my English brain two sentences beyond the lagging Spanish words. At this point, the 'real' instructor strutted in (45 minutes late). Phew, I wiped the bit of perspiration that had begun to form on my forward from the heat of the overhead projector. I quickly went and sat down in the back as she began to rattle off the history of computers, starting at Alan Turing and the Turing Machine. Oh, yeah, I was going to start there too ... 

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I am back at my jail cell of an accommodation. It really isn't too bad, but lacks the luxury of a private toilet, TV, par-3 golf course, beach volleyball etc., (normal appliances that one would find in a Canadian prison). The bed is hilariously bad. Not that I complain about beds too much, it is just the price that irks me. A bed with a pencil thin mattress on one side and about 6 inches on the other. A bed with sheets so worn they are see-through. A bed that when I left the covers up, you can see the dust billow in the light.  At least the wood frame is level. No, this is doable. I have slept on far, far worse beds in Bolivia, India, and Indonesia. The one difference was that those beds cost $5-10 a night, where as my quality student accommodation is a whopping $33 a night!!  For $33 a night I want a GD box spring!