We’ve all heard a foreigner asking for directions or mispronouncing common words even though on paper they know exactly what they are saying. I come across this time and time again when I hear people speaking other languages and it has always made me curious as to why they don’t give enough importance to pronunciation. Perhaps if they knew that the people from the countries that speak those other languages often have an innocent laugh on their behalf, they might put more emphasis on such a skill. Fortunately, there are demanding teachers out there who realize this and don’t overlook this important tenet.

Since I began learning foreign languages, I’ve always put near equal effort into my pronunciation. My goal, though, may be different from most since I don’t just want to be understood, but rather I wish to reach close to native-level fluency. At the very least, having someone think I must be from a far-off region of the same country is considered a win in my book.

You see, my initial intention was actually to teach myself 5 languages by age 30 and by my own count, I reached 3.5 at the height of it. Right around that time, I realized my head was a vocabulary salad (“tudo junto e misturado“, as they say) and that my plan was lofty at best. The realization soon came that fluency in three languages (ie, two foreign languages) was adequate and that some basic math skills were required if I wanted to see it all through. Subtract one and a half from the current total and add what would have been my fifth language as the now-third and final one stick with what I know (Portuguese & Spanish). Start with baby steps, add immersion techniques and here I am, starting my last linguistic endeavor.

What I’m getting at is you shouldn’t overreach because, aside from grammar and all that good stuff, learning to pronounce things correctly is a battle in itself. Being technically correct isn’t all that important when it comes to language. This is obvious in the face of informal and/or regional speech and the same is true for sounds themselves.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been corrected in the last month and a half, despite thinking I was fluent. It turns out that fluency has 5 levels and the final one is a tough nut to crack. Some of my faux-pas include saying “nem eu” like “ne meu”, “sem ar” like “sem mar”, and “também” like…well, “também” (the ending is more like “bang” than “bame”). Luckily, I’ve been corrected enough that I’m now self-correcting a few seconds after I mispronounce.

In any event, and regardless of the fact that I’ve met a boatload of nice people here, if a linguistic kick in the rear-end is what you need, I’d say come to Braziu.

Originally written for Street Smart Brazil

Despite studying Brazilian culture for a decade and living in Brazil for 1/30th of my life (that is to say, one year in total), I still receive cultural aftershocks. It is one thing to be an armchair enthusiast studying about intangible things and quite another to have to relearn how to live. The difference lies between learning lessons about Brazil as something foreign and learning lessons from Brazil firsthand.

A surefire way to confront the more difficult of the two is to live with Brazilians where doing A can unintentionally lead to Z in a heartbeat. This is especially trying when all you wanted in the first place is a natural progression to B. Well, if it’s B that you want or need to function properly, the solution is to either pack your bags or live a solitary life.

It is said that relationships are mirrors since they have the ability to show you, and I’m simplifying things here, what you are doing right and wrong. Culture shock is not only a shock, but rather it is a mirror that reflects your personal preferences and cultural tendencies. The right and wrong in this sense are really just exercises in adaptability where adapting means challenging every one of your preconceived notions. Let’s look at a few examples.

The other day, I wanted to swim at the local gym’s pool, but I soon learned that I’d have to wear “swim briefs” (aka Speedo-like swimwear) and I’d have to have a medical check-up to make sure I won’t spread diseases in the pool. While those were presented to me as “must-do’s”, I also learned that there’s even a certain way to put the swim briefs on. For the meantime, let’s just say thank goodness I live near the beach where my board shorts can be better appreciated. American sensibilities aside though, I know the day is almost upon me when I’ll give in and not look back.

Six years ago, I was up to something or other in the house I was living in when I heard an announcement that gas was being sold from a truck that was passing by. I thought Brazil sure is accommodating if gasoline for one’s car is delivered to the door. A few months later, I figured out the truck was actually selling gas tanks for lighting the stove. It was then that it dawned on me that living in Brazil, or any other country, is not just about being confronted with new and interesting ways of doing things but also it’s about interacting with them.

The key to completing one’s cultural understanding is all about interaction. Learning by reading or watching, be it from an armchair or in person, is just the icing on the cultural cake. Instead, I suggest you “meter a mão na massa” (get your hands dirty, as it were) by learning about Portuguese through speaking and about Brazil by doing. After all, this is a relationship and if you only think about the wedding and the honeymoon, you may miss the marriage.

Note: The phrase “meter a mão na massa” literally means “to put your hand(s) in the dough”.

Originally written for Street Smart Brazil

Rising at the base of Corcovado in the neighborhood of Cosme Velho and emptying into Guaranabara Bay from the Praia de Flamengo, the Rio Carioca has a history that parallels that of the city. As a freshwater river, the Rio Carioca quenched the thirst of the Indians, French, Flemish, Portuguese and Brazilians, all the while becoming a strategic point of interest as well as the setting of much discord.

In 1503, under the command of the Portuguese navigator Gonçalo Coelho, a stone house was built near the mouth of the Rio Carioca. Tamoio Indians living in the region began to call it “akari oka” (“carioca”), or “house of cascudos”. The name “cascudo” referenced the scaly freshwater fish the natives routinely caught, which they thought similar to the armor of the Portuguese explorers. While the house is surely long gone, the name “carioca” made its long-lasting mark on the city and its people.

Water Carriers

Aguadeiros, 1822)

Being a source of life for so many throughout the centuries, control of the Rio Carioca became of the utmost importance. Bloody disputes were fought over it and occupations were made from it.

Water carriers, known as aguadeiros, were slaves and Indians who roamed the streets selling water. Since not everyone had access to a servant to bring them their own supply of water from the Rio Carioca, the water selling trade was established. Indian water carriers roamed the streets with clay pots on their heads filled with water to sell. In their Tupi-Guarani tongue they yelled, “Hy! Hy! Hy!” (“Water! Water! Water!”). Many years later the Africans, who replaced the Indian captives as water carriers, repeated the same characteristic call to offer their merchandise.

Interesting to note, in Lisbon around the same time, water carriers were allowed to work without paying tribute to the State, under the condition that they assist in putting out fires on the spot, should they occur. I would guess the same was true of those in Rio de Janeiro.

Lapa

The Arcos da Lapa in 1790, 1896 and today)

From the early 1600′s, there was talk of building a system of canals to bring drinkable water to the city’s population, though it wasn’t until the mid-1700′s that the task was actually completed and water carriers were no longer needed. Once the Carioca Aqueduct was up and running, the Rio Carioca could bring fresh water to several fountains within reasonable distance of the city’s inhabitants. One of the main fountains was located in the nearby Largo da Carioca, then known as the Saint Anthony Square.

Fast-forward to 1896 and the aqueduct, like the water carriers before it, was no longer needed since more modern means were bringing water to the much larger population. The canals were turned into tracks for the Santa Tereza tramway, while nearby houses (such as those seen in the B&W photo above) were demolished by 1960 in order to highlight the monument.

As far as I know, no place on or near the arches pays tribute to those who actually built them, mainly African and Native American slaves. Without the work of these slaves, it is hard to imagine that Rio de Janeiro would have grown as it did, much less that it would have taken Brazil’s capital status from Salvador da Bahia.

Originally written for Street Smart Brazil