Day 7 - Sunday, May 24, 2009: Vitoria and Vila Velha, Espirito Santo

by Katie Beardsley

Brazil yields many once in a lifetime opportunities. Traveling through the rainforest and associated waterways of Brazil exposed us to the bountiful resources and wildlife that thrives in the Amazonian basin; this was an experience that provided rare, hands-on exposure to the Amazon region. After my first week of immersion in a wholly unfamiliar environment, I found myself wondering how the rest of the trip could even begin to compare. Would Vila Velha or Rio de Jeniero be as exciting as the first week of the trip? After all, living in the Amazonia region for only one week will probably be the biggest adventure of my life. Consider, in just the first week I went camping in the Amazon jungle (admit it, I’m tougher than you), I lived on a river boat and slept on a hammock, I bathed in the Amazon River (no one experienced the mythical toothpick catfish), I visited indigenous tribes, I went fishing for—AND CAUGHT—piranhas, held a crocodile (ok—it was a caimen, but it still counts), and most importantly, I had the honor of meeting the undeniably mighty Amazonian superhero “Anandje.” Understandably, I felt like my professors had made a big mistake by putting the “best” part of the trip at the beginning—I thought we were being set up for disappointment.

After arriving in Vila Velha I quickly realized that each region of Brazil provides unique experiences. The Amazon may provide rare opportunities to interact with nature unfamiliar to most Americans, but living with a host family in a Brazilian city provides cultural experiences that I am positive can never be replicated.

My first full day of cultural immersion in the Brazilian state of Espirito Santo began on Sunday, May 24th. After my hosts provided me with a much welcomed soft, comfortable, stationary, non-swinging, dry, soft, clean (you get the picture) bed, I woke up by an alarm clock rather than with mosquitos and the hot sun as is typical in the Amazon. It was a welcomed change. My Brazilian mom fixed a lovely breakfast complete with the best coffee and FRESH orange juice I have ever tried. After these delicacies, my host helped me choose an appropriate “Brazilian” outfit for our welcome barbeque.

The barbeque was a fun opportunity for students from WVU and UVV to meet and mingle. Although strange, I think one of the most interesting aspects of the barbeque was the attentiveness of the wait staff. I’m not exaggerating when I say that the waiters continually circled the party, offering drinks and finger foods at two minute intervals. Service like that in America is only found in the nicest restaurants. At the party, the WVU students gathered in a circle and we were provided with our per diem allowance; we were also told that we could join together in the evening for a group dinner. I, however, could not attend this dinner. I already had plans.

My plans did not consist of what a typical American would picture as an obligatory activity while visiting Brazil; rather, I had plans to attend my first-ever Pentecostal church service. For those who don’t know me, I was born and raised, pure-bred, proud West Virginian. I am aware, probably just like most West Virginians, of the relatively large number of Pentecostals in our state. Pentecostal women are easily identified by their clothing. For example, a typical Pentecostal woman would have long hair and would only wear dresses or skirts rather than jeans or shorts.

I had never attended a Pentecostal church service, and I really did not know what to expect. I wanted to attend, though, because I thought it would provide me with an experience that I would never forget. Indeed, my predictions were very correct. My host family and I arrived at their church at around seven in the evening. I asked my hosts why their church was held in the evening. I figured it had something to do with the hot Brazilian sun during the afternoon. I figured wrong. In reality, the church has a very powerful and efficient air conditioning system. The reason church is held in the evening is because Brazilians like to go to the beach during the morning and afternoon. The Pentacostal church was large and open with many chairs and a stage at the front of the building. A small number of women consisted of the “choir,” and a live band provided music for the service. The service began with a prayer, which is probably pretty typical for a church service. However, this was not a typical prayer (at least by my Baptist standards). The prayer lasted around 15 minutes. This prayer was followed by around 45 minutes of very energetic singing and worship. More prayers followed, and at the one hour and fifteen minute mark the actual sermon began. The sermon was immediately interrupted by a startling shout from the back of the sanctuary. A man was standing in the aisle, rapidly speaking in what I definitely know is not Portuguese. I looked at my host and asked her what was going on, and she just shook her head. I later discovered that the man was “speaking in tongues.” After his five or ten minute interlude, the sermon resumed and the preacher’s voice continually crescendoed over the next thirty minutes. At the end of the sermon, the preacher was practically yelling. After the sermon there was more singing, followed by a group prayer where every attendee said their own prayer. At this point we were at the two hour mark, which is the longest Sunday church service I have ever attended. When the group prayer reached the two and a half hour mark, I honestly prayed that church would not last for three hours. The service concluded after all members who were able to speak in tongues went to the front of the sanctuary and were blessed by the priests.

Even though the service was long by my standards, the worshipers were energetic and engaged until the last seconds. It was very refreshing to see people so engaged and happy about their religion. In my visit to my host’s church, I witnessed a type of joy and sincere praise that I believe many American churches lack.

When the service concluded, my host family took me to a local fried chicken and french fries restaurant. The restaurant was packed when we arrived at around 9:45, and we had to wait for a table. Keep in mind that this was on a Sunday evening—most sit down restaurants in West Virginia are closed at this hour on a Sunday. After consuming a delicious meal of fried chicken, fries, fried polenta, and coca-cola (which, interestingly, is made from cane sugar in Brazil rather than high fructose corn syrup as in the USA), we returned to my Brazilian home for the night.

Although I joked about attending a nearly three hour long church service in Brazil, I believe the experience was amazing and fascinating. I encourage travelers who are serious about “absorbing local culture” to not only visit the typical tourist attractions, but also to try to engage in local practices such as attending a church service or even visit sites that are off the beaten track. It seems like these types of cultural experiments often provide the most interesting views of local culture.