The Cows

As we've settled into a routine here after two weeks, the days have started to blend together--so rather than write blow-by-blows of each day I'll just describe the highlights, beginning with: The Cows. Yesterday, I had to cross a pasture to get to a patch of forest I wanted to use for my individual project. As I entered the pasture, the eight or so cows grazing in it did not pay me any mind (no mind to pay, really). My departure from the pasture, however, was a different story. It started with one she-cow. First, she mooed, low and foreboding, at me. Then she started trotting towards me menacingly. I got a little nervous and picked up my pace towards the barbed wire fence. When I looked over my shoulder to check out her progress, I was disturbed to see that she was not the only one hot on my heels: EVERY single other cow in the pasture was trotting, slowly but steadily, in my direction, mooing like they were on a mission--a death mission.

Think this is a laughing matter? Read THIS. Watch THIS. Luckily I hightailed it to the fence before tragedy struck and scrambled through the barbed wire unscathed but so frazzled that I proceeded to eat the Chocolate Brownie Clif bar I had with me in about one bite. Sometimes I eat my feelings; no big deal. Anyway, I made it safely back to the Institute, where I told my tale to the field assistants and TAs, using broken Spanish and hand gestures for the ones who don't speak English. They found the whole ordeal hilarious and suggested that my bright reddish-orange shirt had set them off. I think they were just crazy. I went to a different pasture today, wearing a different but similar red shirt, and the cows in this one barely looked up as I passed.

Trekking through undeveloped forest is hard work, and can be very frustrating, but as I was telling Dad the other day, every time I've felt like I wanted to scream (VINES, VINES, EVERYWHERE), I've noticed something amazing and gotten distracted from my rage. Oftentimes it's an exotic-looking butterfly or intricate spider web, but yesterday I had a special treat. As I was measuring soil moisture 50 meters into the forest, I heard some weird squawking above me. I looked up and saw what I was sure were some kind of monkeys--I could see dark blurs jumping from branch to branch and their calls didn't sound too different from those of the marmosets we saw the first week. But after standing still for a few minutes, I got a better look, and realized they were birds! Birds unlike any I've ever seen--they were dark, with long, stiff, subtly-patterned tails, and dark, brown, shiny bodies--and, as I said, they were jumping rather than flying. When I got back to IPE, I told Juliana, one our TAs, about them, and she helped me identify them as Squirrel Cuckoos. Their name in Portuguese translates literally to "Cat Souls"--not quite sure what that's about. I did not take this picture. The birds did not attack me.

Another diffuser of forest-frustration is the reservoir. The past couple days, I've returned from the field a sweaty mess--despite the temperature being above 80 (different definition of winter, here in the tropics), I wear a[n Achievement First] hat and long pants and sleeves to protect from bugs and thorny plants. Luckily, we have easy access to a delightful body of water. I took my first dip the day before yesterday and it was exactly what I needed: cool, crisp, and refreshing, plus surrounded on all sides by gorgeous green hillside and lush forest. There are a few kayaks on the premises, as I think I've mentioned, so I'm hoping I'll find some time to boat around as well.

Our second social was very similar to the first--but with wigs. I wasn't feeling too social (the 20 of us are together almost 24 hours a day) so I ate some peanuts, drank some beer, took some pictures of the band wearing the wigs, and went back to my room to read and talk to Olivia. I've been feeling a little claustrophobic lately--very little privacy here and I'm so used to spending long stretches of time on my own--so I opted to be antisocial again last night; when everyone went to a night club in Atibaia (the same small city where we saw the band last weekend), I stayed behind to watch a movie. Ended up with Gone With the Wind, which I'm pretty sure I haven't seen since I was 12 and which I have been wanting to re-view for awhile.

One of my favorite things to do is re-watch movies or re-read books that I first read years ago. It's always so interesting to see how my perspective has changed, to realize that the first time dozens of euphemisms, allusions, and other manner of subtlety flew right over my head. I made it through the whole four hours--what a sobfest. Seriously, how many people can die (or near-die) in one movie? But boy were Vivian Leigh and Clark Gable a pair of lookers, with such great chemistry and even better get-ups. Moreover, I am such a sucker for love stories that center around misunderstanding (of each other, of self) and miscommunication, even though I am deeply disappointed if things completely flounder in the end--Gone With the Wind's conclusion is ambivalent, lucky for me. I wonder if my weakness for this literary device wasn't born when I first saw Gone With the Wind, but it was just as likely inspired by something I read, I imagine.

Today we spent the afternoon in Atibaia--kind of a dud of a town, if you ask me, but then, people say that about New Haven and I argue that they just don't understand it. We took a chairlift over a sharply sloping park with a bunch of pools, and then back up--thrilling. Then we got ice cream, which was fantastic, the highlight of the day. It was self-serve, weigh-your-own, which seems to be common here: I had a waffle bowl with small scoops of dulce de leche, vanilla with caramel swirl, and caramelized banana, drizzled with that type of chocolate syrup that hardens into a shell. Then, "social coordinator" Gabriel took us to get burgers, which everyone was really excited about, to take to a hang-gliding field where we could eat while watching the gliders coast in and the sun set. Unfortunately, the burgers took so long to prepare that the sun set while we were waiting. Even more unfortunate was that my cheeseburger was maybe the worst I've ever had--hockey puck topped with Velveeta. There was a fresh coconut stand across the street from us and I spent most of the meal gazing at it longingly.

Tomorrow, to the beach at Picinguaba for a week! I'm very excited to see another part of Brazil, especially a coastal part, and Picinguaba is supposed to be spectacular and moreover not a tourist-trap--in fact, it's where Brazilians themselves vacation. It will be nice to have class, which is getting a bit monotonous, in a different environment. The major (but perhaps only) downside is our accommodations: we're sharing a total of two rooms, one for girls and one for boys. Here's hoping nobody snaps! Privacy is so underrated--where am I supposed to go when I need a good cry? We will not have internet at Picinguaba, so I'll be offline and unable to blog or Skype for the next five days. Maybe going cold turkey will help me break my addiction.

I've heard increasing complaints about the food here lately--people are finding it repetitive, but I'm happy to report that I'm still very happy with it. Nightly casseroles never killed anybody and they're clearly an easy thing to prepare for a large group of people. Speaking of food, I made it to the Cafes and Restaurants section of my Rough Guide to Buenos Aires (a gift from everyone's favorite travel agent, B. Ashby Hardesty :)) and got myself even more excited about living there. Steak, wine, dulce de leche, ice cream, empanadas, pizza--the Italian food is supposed to be incredible and even Dan Shapiro, who I either eat with or run into every time I go to Modern, says Buenos Aires pizza is the best he's ever had. And all for a third of what it costs in the U.S. (or New York, at least). I even read about a high-profile cafe that serves local game, including capybara--GROSS, but I obviously have to try it.

I am trying to train myself to drink coffee--which I love but which does scary things to my circulatory system--by drinking small amounts with a lot of milk, because I think it's a pretty big part of B.A.'s culinary culture (part of most places' culinary culture, really). It doesn't hurt that the coffee here is delicious. I've also been drinking a lot of something labeled "Matte Tea" (served from a coffee pump). I am not sure if it's the same mate that everyone drinks in Argentina, but I'm hoping that it is because I like it and because it doesn't seem to have the same nasty effect as coffee.

Who wants to come eat with me? Kayak.com for cheap tickets. Talk to you in five days!