Cultural Experiences. . .

Some things are just OK here.
Our AC hadn't been working so we took the car to the auto place to be fixed. We're leaving tomorrow morning to drive about ten hours to the beach. It's officially summer here, so there was no way we were going to try to drive without air conditioning! Fortunately, the mechanics discovered the problem and fixed it the same day! Yay!
The other day I went in to pay the bill. I really like the gal who takes care of the business. Her husband works with Kevin and her brothers are the mechanics. She's just so sweet and outgoing and loves to chat. We started talking and one subject led to another. She asked me if I like to cook. I told her it's not my favorite thing to do, but that I really like to bake. . . and to eat what I bake. She said she doesn't like to cook, but that she loves to eat, especially sweets. Then she grabbed her love handles and told me it's obvious that she likes to eat. Then she looked me up and down and said in Portuguese, "You don't look like you like to eat. How many kilograms do you weigh?" I was kind of shocked that she was so nonchalant about how she asked me. I kind of studdered with my answer and came out with, "I don't know how much I weigh in kilograms because we use pounds." Then she turned to the secretary behind her and said, "How many kilos do you think she weighs?" I felt like I was a contestant on the Biggest Loser being criticized! Without hesitating, the secretary looked me up and down a few times and then shrugged her shoulders and said, "I don't know, maybe fifty, fifty-one kilos, more or less." I stood there with my mouth hanging open. I was understanding every single word that came out of their mouths!! These women were openly discussing my weight as I stood a few feet from them and they knew I was understanding them! At least the gal was generous with her guesstimate! I'd actually be happy if I were close to fifty-one kilos!
I was explaining this to my language teacher and said that in my culture, it's not exactly appropriate to judge people's weight while they're standing in your presence. He seemed shocked. Kevin and I have heard people here describe others as gordinha (chubby) or magrinha (skinny), and it's totally OK. Usually they make the hand gestures to show the person has a large belly or is wide, or they pinch their fingers together to show skinny. So my teacher said, "Oh, so when I go to the States, I shouldn't say, 'I was sitting by the fat guy.'" I told him, no, that probably wouldn't be appropriate.

One aspect of this cultural that I'm not sure I'll ever get used to is the fact that people who have money are treated better than those who don't have money. I've noticed that the women here seem to always be dressed well. They look like they've spent hours getting ready - beautiful clothes, nails manicured, perfect hair, etc. What I didn't realize until recently is that it's very important for them to look like they have money. Now, this isn't 100% true, but for the most part, the Brazilians agree that it's the case. One of my language teachers shared that because she is the owner of the language school, people expect her to dress well in public and act as if she has the money she does. She said people in the stores can choose not to help someone who isn't dressed well. The butcher at the meat counter might give a well-dressed person a better cut of meat than the person behind her who's wearing running shorts and a t-shirt (yep, that would be me). Shoes are expected to be clean, so for a runner who doesn't want to wash her running shoes, I fail that expectation miserably!!
So, last week I had gone for a run while Emma was in school and on my way home, remembered that I needed two little items at the grocery store. I'm well aware of my appearance these days, but most of the time, I just don't care. I'm an American and I don't always feel the need to meet the expectations of the Brazilians. Sometimes I do. Anyway, I was wearing sweaty clothes, dirty shoes, my hair in a ponytail and beads of sweat were collecting on every inch of my body. (It is summer here, you know.) I grabbed my items and stepped in line behind a lady who was almost finished purchasing her groceries. As I stood behind her, I recognized her as a woman I had met almost two months before. She had her new baby with her and I hadn't seen her since he was born. I leaned forward and said, "Oi, parabens!" (Hi, congratulations!) I wasn't prepared for what happened next. The woman turned her head toward me, evaluated me from head to toe with raised eyebrows and then turned back to writing her check, mumbling, "Obrigada," (Thank you). I looked down at my appearance and realized I probably looked like someone she didn't want to associate with. Realizing that, I chose to keep talking to her. The first time I had met her, I was wearing nice clothes and jewelry with my hair fixed and we got along great. Maybe she didn't recognize me, right? I told her my husband had told me about the birth of her son and asked if she and her husband would be home during the Christmas break so we could visit. As I stumbled through my sentences, I felt like maybe she started to remember me. Then she finished writing her check, got her receipt and said a quick, "Tchau," before hurrying out of the store. Maybe she was in a hurry. Maybe. I can't explain the emotions I felt as I left the store. I went home and played the scene over and over in my mind. Part of me was sad. How many times have I been ignored by people because I'm not dressed the way they'd like me to be dressed? Honestly, it doesn't really matter, I know. Not all the women here treat me as I was treated that day, but most of the women would agree that I will get better attention if I look like I have money. I was really sad about experiencing a part of the culture that I don't like. I'm sad that not everyone gets the same chance here. Thing is, it's just really OK for people to act like that here. People associate with those who are in their same social class, not above, not below. There are exceptions, of course, but in general, it's true.
Some of what I'm writing I've learned from experience; some of it I've learned from other Americans who've lived here and other things I've learned from the Brazilians themselves. Even after a year and a half, I'm learning new cultural differences. At times I just love the people and the culture. Other times I want to scream at them!! "Different doesn't necessarily mean it's wrong," is something I've heard a hundred times, especially since moving here. Rather than agree with that statement, I think I'll stick to, "Love each other as I have loved you."(John 13:34), and "Treat others as you would like to be treated."(Luke 6:31). Even as I look over what I've written, I realize America isn't perfect either. We don't always love others well, nor do we treat others with the love and respect that we'd like to receive. I guess I can only take care of me and choose to love people regardless of their status. . . or weight for that matter!:)