Howdy from the United States! As wonderful as it is to wake up in my own bed, overindulge in American food, and catch up with family and friends, I miss Brazil. Luckily, the few Brazilians I know in Philadelphia have tolerated incessant invitations to hang out, helping me to matar a saudade do Brasil.

For those considering a Fulbright English Teaching Assistantship, I recommend it without hesitation or reservation. Teaching in Brazil was the most enriching experience of my life. If the idea of learning a new language; meeting the kindest, most welcoming people on earth; exploring new food and music; and challenging yourself to reexamine what it means to be American appeals to you, please apply to teach in Brazil! If I’ve convinced you, I want to give you the tools to make it happen: here’s a brief, cut and dry how-to-guide for the application process.

The Timeline

Because applications must be submitted in September, it’s important to begin working on your application and start lining up your references over the summer. I started late, and as a result had to scramble during August and early September.

If you are an enrolled student or are applying through an academic institution, I highly recommend that you contact your college or university’s career services.If my college’s career services can serve as an example, the folks there will encourage you to visit the Fulbright website regularly and to reach out immediately to your potential references, as filling out the recommendation forms often takes time. I was relieved to know that my three references had completed and submitted their recommendations two weeks before the application was due.

The Application

Next, all applicants are required to complete the application (available online), which includes two essays – a Statement of Grant Purpose and a Personal Statement. In the Statement of Grant Purpose, applicants are asked to write about what draws them both to the country in which they would like to work and to teaching. The Personal Statement requires candidates to reflect upon how they hope their Fulbright experiences might fit into their future career plans.

For some countries, including Brazil, the application calls for a language examination. The language examination form can be found on the Fulbright website. Like recommenders, language examiners tend to like being asked early so that they have time to complete the examination and the subsequent report.

The Waiting

After submitting all written documents, candidates must conduct a short interview (approximately 20 minutes long, if memory serves). If you are affiliated with a college or university, the interview will take place on campus with members of your institution’s Fulbright committee. Several weeks after you submit the application to your academic institution (if that applies), all applicants will submit their applications online to the Fulbright commission. Finally – the worst part – waiting! Finalists learn of their status at the end of January, then grantees hear definitively sometime between March and June.

I hope this helps. Please contact me with any questions at gabriel.b.friedman@gmail.com; I am more than happy to help, if I can.

Thanks for reading! I loved being a part of the La Vida Idealist community, and I look forward to continuing to learn from y’all. Um forte abraço, Gabe.

For more tips on working within the Fulbright Teaching Assistantships or Fellowships, check out “Guest Post: To Kiva Fellow or not to Kiva Fellow, Eso e’ la pregunta. (Part II of III” by Rob Gradoville Jr.,  ”Volunteerism in Latin America: The Big Picture” by Flora Lindsay-Herrera, or read about Lianne Gonsalves’s experiences in Caracas, Venezuela. This is Gabe Friedman’s last post on La Vida Idealist. Gabe just finished a stint as a Fulbright English Teaching Assistant at the Instituto Cultural Brasil-Estados Unidos (ICBEU) in Manaus, Brazil and is now working towards the betterment of educational policy in New Jersey as the Special Assistant to Mayor Cory Booker’s Lead Education Advisor.

As I consider a professional future in which I split time between Brazil and the United States, I have been thinking about how interconnected the two countries have become. Just last week, the Deputy Chief of Mission at the U.S. Embassy in Brasília, Todd Chapman, visited Manaus to speak to and field questions from Americans who call Manaus home.

Many of them came to Brazil expecting to stay temporarily but ultimately decided to remain, enchanted by the Brazilian way of life (about which I’ve written in earlier posts). Mr. Chapman spoke glowingly of Brazil as a burgeoning democracy (Brazil cast off its oppressive dictatorship less than thirty years ago); a rising economic superpower; a country endowed with some of the most awe-inspiring natural beauty in the world; and most importantly, a multicultural nation imbued with a contagious optimism and a people ready to take on the challenges of the 21^st century.

As I listened to my compatriots recount their Amazon adventures, I thought of my friend who uprooted his life in New York City and moved to Manaus to marry the girl of his dreams, a Brazilian he met in Israel. I was reminded of the American consular agent in Manaus, who first came here with her husband thirty years ago and has been lived in Manaus ever since. The exchange goes both ways, of course: I was reminded, too, of a friend from the south of Brazil who is working as a nanny in Philadelphia. When we caught up last week, she said she wants to stay in the U.S. to study, and maybe to live.

These stories are becoming more and more common as our interests and Brazil’s align. Today, over 60,000 Americans live in Brazil, and over 150,000 visit every year. Both of those numbers are on the rise. The U.S. Census Bureau estimates that over 350,000 Brazilians live in the United States. I believe the future holds a much stronger connection between Brazil and the United States. Working together – sharing resources, ideas, and people – these two countries can help to make the world a safer, more sustainable place for all of its inhabitants. I feel lucky to call Brazil my second home, one that has embraced me so lovingly, and I look forward to my next stay here.

My final post for La Vida Idealist, for now, will come from the U.S.  I will write about the three things I will miss most about Brazil. Until next time, um grande abraço (a big hug)!

Gabe Friedman is currently a Fulbright English Teaching Assistant at the Instituto Cultural Brasil-Estados Unidos (ICBEU) in Manaus, Brazil.

Last week I entered the faculty lounge during a break between classes to find a group of teachers giggling and clutching small pieces of paper as if they were golden tickets to Willie Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. “I sure hope you got yours, Gabe!” screamed one of my colleagues, eliciting unexpected laughter from the others. Luckily, earlier that day I had found a similar slip of paper with an invitation to a Teacher Appreciation Lunch at one of the nicer fish restaurants in the city, all paid for by the school, for the Friday before Teacher Appreciation Day. Their happiness was marred only by their knowledge that after the lunch they would have to return to school for a mandatory two-hour presentation by a representative from one of the largest English-as-a-Foreign-Language book companies.

On Friday, when I arrived at the restaurant, I was greeted by applause and cat calls. In accordance with Brazilian custom, I kissed all of the women on both cheeks and hugged most of the men. Two of the female teachers brought their babies, and they passed them around to everyone who wanted to touch and hold them. My colleagues were not in any way restrained by the presence of their bosses. We talked loudly about sex, religion, and politics (normally three no-nos), and my colleague, sitting to my right, and I spoon-fed each other petit gateau, giggling and purring with delight.

After about an hour, the president got up to speak. He thanked the teachers for their hard work, passion, and desire to improve. “Because of you, ICBEU has been the best English language school in Manaus for the past 55 years.” Everyone cheered. “Soooooo,” he said, clasping his hands together and beaming, “we’ve decided to give you a treat. A collective “OOOOOH”, then more cheering. “Stay as long as you like, eat, drink, enjoy the company of your colleagues. Then, when you’re ready to leave, you may head home to your families. Enjoy the day!” More hugging, more kissing, more joy.

Every day, my colleagues defy the Brazilian reputation for laziness. They come to work early; engage with students at all educational and socio-economic levels, motivating and inspiring them before, during, and after class; and well after dark they continue learning from each other and planning for the days and weeks ahead to ensure their classes are as fun and effective as they can be. Still, not one of them felt guilty about returning home after lunch to relax with their friends and families.

Gabe Friedman is currently a Fulbright English Teaching Assistant at the Instituto Cultural Brasil-Estados Unidos (ICBEU) in Manaus, Brazil.

In our meetings, at Brasília’s nightclubs, and during an awe-inspiring day trip to a waterfall-filled nature reserve, we kissed and embraced like Brazilians while delighting in foul English language and sarcastic American humor, which we hadn’t heard in months. Though many of us had encountered frustrations – housing troubles, poor adjustment to new foods and climates, and embarrassing malapropisms – we had survived the first seven months.

The jeitinho brasileiro (Brazilian way) is an amorphous idea that describes how things are done in Brazil. Many Brazilians refer to their jeitinho half-lovingly, half-disparagingly, pointing especially to corruptibility and laziness, which some see as part of the Brazilian personality. However, for my compatriots and me, the jeitinho offers lessons that our own American jeitinho would be wise to adopt.

Shared amusement: One friend marveled at Brazilians’ patience and the joy they take in discussing mundane, exasperating details of daily living, even with complete strangers. “So many things go wrong in this country,” he noted. “Yet I’ve never seen anyone truly, unconsolably angry about it. Could you imagine an American stuck in the kind of traffic we see here?” he asked. No one likes traffic. But many of the Brazilians we’ve met complain about it affectionately, cursing and chuckling at the same time. It’s another amusing conversation topic: something about which one can connect with a friend, neighbor, cousin, or colleague. It’s not that Brazilians don’t get frustrated, angry, sad, or even at times violent; they do. But they have a tendency to look on the bright side of life and to laugh off unfortunate events. As a friend told me recently, “Brazilians have a short memory for anger, a short memory for problems.”

Time to unwind: Another referred to the two-to-three hour lunch break most of us enjoy daily. I often work from 9am-11am, break until 2pm or even 3pm, then work until 8pm (with a leisurely coffee break at 5pm). During the extended lunch-break, many of my ICBEU colleagues lunch with their families, run errands, or visit the gym, returning to work in the afternoon refreshed, sharper, and more often than not, smiling. The traditional American system – clock in at 9am and work without respite until 5pm or later – can’t compete.

Optimism and receptivity: Others mentioned the importance of family, Brazilians’ seemingly endless supply of optimism (see this Pew poll), and their willingness to embrace foreigners (expect a post about Brazilian receptivity in the near future).

The United States has much to offer Brazil – culturally, economically, and politically. I hope we are wise enough to develop our relationship with this burgeoning superpower in a way that allows us to benefit from all that it has to offer us: not just its skyrocketing economy, but also its flawed but irresistible jeito.

Gabe Friedman is currently a Fulbright English Teaching Assistant at the Instituto Cultural Brasil-Estados Unidos (ICBEU) in Manaus, Brazil.

In the weeks leading up to the anniversary of 9/11, I thought little about what it would be like to commemorate that day here in the middle of the Amazon, so far from home. When I did think about it, I surprised myself, noticing how quickly the fear and rage I felt ten years ago – followed, in the days and months after the attacks, by the urge to connect to friends and family members– were replaced by run-of-the-mill concerns like applying to college, getting enough sleep, finding a job, and making time to do the laundry. Still, on every September 11^th since the September 11^th, I have tried to remember that, after absorbing the reality that my country was under attack, the only distinguishable thought I had was “I hope my loved ones are safe.” I imagined, naively, that this process – panic, anger, acceptance, then, finally, a return to the normal – was uniquely American. I was wrong.

I entered my office at the ICBEU in Manaus on Monday, September 12^th, greeted by my supervisors’ usually radiant faces. “Did you see the memorials yesterday, my dear?” Melisa, my friend-boss-colleague-mentor inquired. I admitted I hadn’t. She turned to face me and said, “I remember it so clearly.” Before becoming an educator, Melisa worked as a flight attendant, as did her sister. By September 2001, Melisa had made her professional transition. Her sister had not, and on September 11^th of that year she was flying from Brazil to New York City. Melisa woke early that morning and was on her way to work when she answered a call from her mother, who lives in Rio de Janeiro. “They’re going to start World War III,” her mother shrieked. “Find your sister.” As Melisa described her frantic drive back to her home, dozens of phone calls to airline operators and then to New York hotels, her eyes widened and glistened. She looked out the window, lost for a minute in her memory, then returned. “As it turned out, my sister had landed safely and was on a bus heading from the airport to a hotel in New York City when the second plane hit. Safe. She was safe.”

The relief on Melisa’s face reflected the catharsis I felt when I finally spoke to my grandparents, who lived in New York, at the end of that interminable day ten years ago. I turned back to my work. “You know,” Melissa murmured, after a pause, “we all felt it. All of us.”

Gabe Friedman is currently a Fulbright English Teaching Assistant at the Instituto Cultural Brasil-Estados Unidos (ICBEU) in Manaus, Brazil.

While my colleague talked about the school’s founder’s connections to the U.S. State Department, my eyes wandered, taking in the imposing tree in the middle of the parking lot. I felt an insistent hand on my chest. “Olha aqui, rapaz,” my colleague said. Look here, man.

My colleague’s eyes had not left mine since we began the tour. He explained that Manauras – citizens of Manaus – consider steady, attentive eye contact to be a sign of respect. When Manauras engage in conversation, they engage their bodies, squeezing shoulders, gesticulating with their hands, and, above all, locking eyes with their interlocutors. During my first weeks in Manaus I began to adapt: I spoke as much with my hands and face as with my tongue, and I made a conscious effort to keep my eyes focused on the people with whom I spoke.

I returned home, to Philadelphia, for part of my July holiday. As I ate breakfast with my dad one morning his eyes strayed while I related a story about one of my students. Instinctively, I grabbed his shoulder. “Look here, pops,” I said.

Gabe Friedman is currently a Fulbright English Teaching Assistant at the Instituto Cultural Brasil-Estados Unidos(ICBEU) in Manaus, Brazil.

1)    “Estava com saudades de Manaus?” (Were you with “saudades” of Manaus?)

2)    “Matou a saudade com a sua familia?” (Did you kill the “saudade” with your family?)

Spanish and Portuguese are remarkably similar. To eat in Spanish? Comer. In Portuguese? Comer. To drink in Spanish? Beber? In Portuguese? Beber. To sleep in Spanish? Dormir. In Portuguese? Dormir. You get the picture. English-Portuguese cognates abound too: horrible-horrível, perfect-perfeito, complete-completo, to name a few. Yet as far as I can tell, the Brazilian idea of “saudade” is one that has no direct equivalent in either English or Spanish.

A friend once explained saudades like this: Saudades is a good and a bad feeling at the same time. To love someone (or something or some place) deeply means you will feel her absence when she is gone. That feeling – recalling the happiness brought about by the person or thing you love while suffering in its absence – is saudade. “Estar com saudade” (to be with saudade) is simultaneously joyous and poignant.

Saudades can grow so strong, so overwhelming, that they must be eliminated. When a person meets a loved one after a long absence, returns to the city of her birth, eats a favorite meal after not having done so for months, she is “matando a saudade” (literal translation: killing the saudade). Many Brazilians I have met live with deep, visceral connections to their homes, their cities, their soccer teams, their churches, and most importantly, their families and friends. The removal, even temporary, of one of those vitally important elements requires quick remedy – “matar a saudade.”

I responded to both questions in the same way: “com certeza” (with certainty). It felt so good to be surrounded by my family and good friends, “matando a saudade,” after not seeing them for half a year. Yet even as I enjoyed my mother’s home cooking, warm showers (I have no hot water in Manaus), and the soothing company of people I’ve known since I was a kid, I felt the absence of my new home in Brazil, and it hurt. A month away from the Manaus community, one that embraces and openly speaks about saudades, left me with…saudades.

I stepped into my office for the first time after coming back to Manaus and received a warm hug from my boss. “Matou a saudade com a sua familia?” he asked, smiling. I sure did. But it feels good to be “matando a saudade” here, too.

Gabe Friedman is currently aFulbright English Teaching Assistant at the Instituto Cultural Brasil-Estados Unidos(ICBEU) in Manaus, Brazil.

Bom dia

For the past six months, I’ve observed Northern Brazil’s work culture, the importance of family, regional differences within Brazil, race relations, dangerously delicious Amazonian food, education, and politics. Let me explain what brought a scrawny suburbanite with overactive sweat glands to the heart of the Amazon (overactive is no exaggeration: I ran into one of my colleagues recently, and he asked me if I had just showered. Nope, I hadn’t. I had taken a five-minute walk to the corner bakery).

I spent the summer of 2005 in Niterói, a city of 500,000, about ten miles from Rio de Janeiro. I had been in Spanish-speaking Latin America, but not yet to Brazil. With a robust (but directionless) sense of adventure and a paltry Portuguese vocabulary, I landed in Rio, where I was greeted by the couple who served as my parents, friends, guides, and teachers. The next months passed quickly – too quickly – in a kaleidoscope of beaches, cachaça, and, most importantly, new friendships. Before leaving, I promised to come back – next time with some Portuguese under my linguistic belt.

Though I majored in History, I retained an interest in Central and South America (specifically Brazil) throughout college. And I developed a passion for working with underserved youth. I explored the educational achievement gap, a topic I had read about but did not understand viscerally until I began working in New Haven public schools. At the start of my senior year, after a summer interning for Teach for America, I felt pulled in two directions by my main academic and personal interests – Brazil and education. Encouraged by an academic advisor and my peerless Portuguese professor, I decided to apply for a Fulbright Teaching Grant, which, miraculously, I received. I did not need another excuse to go back.

I bid my family and friends toodle-oo and left for Manaus, the “Paris of the Tropics” (stay tuned for a post about the history of this breathtaking place). Since arriving, I have been working as an English teaching assistant at ICBEU, a binational school whose mission is two-fold: to teach English, and to serve as a place where Brazilians assimilate United States culture. I like my job, but I looove this city and the people in it.

That does it for now. Feel free to contact me at gabrielBfriedman@gmail.com. I’d love to hear from you. Até logo!

This is Gabriel’s first post with La Vida Idealist.org. Gabe Friedman is currently a Fulbright English Teaching Assistant at the Instituto Cultural Brasil-Estados Unidos (ICBEU) in Manaus, Brazil.

For two years, La Vida Idealist.org has reached audiences in over one hundred and fifty countries and discussed the highs-and-lows and ins-and-outs of nonprofit work in Latin America. We’ve discussed the g-word (gringo!) and the ethics of “poverty tourism,” wondered how much impact teaching English really has in the long run, and dispensed dozens and dozens of tips on working and living abroad. We’ve fostered connections and collaborations between volunteers and social change organizations all over Latin America. And speaking for myself, we’ve had a blast while doing it!

Now we’re looking for new writers to share their stories, experiences and insights with us and our readers. Whether you’re a temporary volunteer or running your own organization, a photographer or photojournalist, or someone traveling abroad and making volunteer stops along the way, your anecdotes and acquired wisdom can continue to facilitate connections and enrich the ongoing dialogue of “just what does nonprofit work in Latin American mean?” If you’re interested in contributing to this conversation and joining our team, check out our Opportunities page! We look forward to hearing from you soon!

Semana Santa in Ayacucho brings many visitors...but do they offer help or harm to developing communities?

After I spoke last week with British teacher Sue Allsworth about living and working in Peru, I started to wonder if all these gringo visitors were bringing help or harm to the country. What are tour operators doing to make sure that travelers to South American don’t exploit or damage the local communities they visit?

To find out more, I got in touch with Lloyd Boutcher. He’s Director of Latin American Operations at Sunvil, a specialist tour operator with a 5-star rating from Britain’s Association of Independent Travel Operators:

“When we’re operating programs, the first step is looking at who our suppliers are and who we’re operating through. We pick a local partner, trying to give some of the smaller guys a chance. With these smaller operations, there’s a chance for us to craft the product and differentiate it. In turn, they tend to contract freelancers and spread the tourism revenue around among drivers, guides and other locals.” Of course, this kind of close work with local people is even more sensitive when the communities involved are indigenous.

For Lloyd’s clients, a stay in a remote jungle lodge is far better than a night in a Marriott – but the challenge is to preserve a culture even while opening it up to foreign travelers. Lloyd gives the example of the Napo Wildlife Centre in Ecuador’s Amazon basin,

“Of a tribe of 200 people, only eight wanted to set up the centre. It was hard for them to make a case, but the centre has been a huge success, both commercially and in terms of preserving the tribe’s identity. Now the whole community is behind the scheme.  Of course, it’s a tricky start with indigenous communities sometimes. When a group of travelers were trying to spot a howler monkey in the trees, a local guide thought he was being helpful by killing one with a blowpipe!”

In addition to their own guidelines for work with local communities, Sunvil also contributes to the Travel Foundation, a charitable organization that works on behalf of the UK travel industry. In Brazil, the Foundation collaborates with Estrela, a local charity which runs community tours to benefit inner-city residents. Both Lloyd at Sunvil and Georgina Davies of the Travel Foundation highlighted Estrela as a shining example of an operation where the balance between the interests of tourists and the local community is just right.

“Some favela tours [like the one described here by former La Vida Idealist editor Celeste Hamilton] have a terrible reputation – they’re really exploitative,” Lloyd told me. “I’ve walked away from such tours, but with Estrela the overall aim is to benefit local communities and bring together people of different cultures.”

Georgina Davies of the Travel Foundation added: “Estrela’s tours are a very special alternative to the usual beach and carnival experience of Salvador and for local people they provide a chance to learn new skills, give something back to their community and ultimately increase their income. Tourism is a unique form of trade in that it is largely free of the tariff barriers which often prevent poor communities trading themselves out of poverty. We support efforts to maximize the potential of tourism to alleviate poverty and help traditional ways of life and skills to thrive.”

Matt Finch is an educational consultant from the U.K. and is currently working at the San Domingo Savio primary school in Peru. For more on his experiences, check out his blog. To learn more about Sunvil,Estrela and the Travel Foundation, please click the embedded links.