In continuation with what I was writing yesterday, I must admit that it was pretty intimidating to be surrounded by Brazilians speaking Portuguese in a New York airport. There were announcements translated into English but the Brazilian flight crew spoke to me in Portuguese (maybe that means that I’ll pass okay for a Brazilian?). I slept some on the plane, but I woke up and checked the time every 45 minutes to an hour. The flight from New York City to São Paulo was 9 hours and 10 minutes crossing 4,767 miles. We arrived around 9:00 AM local time (São Paulo and Salvador are 2 hours ahead of central time), giving me 2 hours to get my bags, go through customs, recheck them, and navigate my way to the gate. Luckily, after a little investigating, I found my bags. They actually beat me to Brazil on a flight the day before. (Although curiously, I think it is against Delta policy to let a bag leave the country on a flight that the owner isn’t on.) Customs was a breeze and I was able to check my bags and get to the gate without a problem. The flight to Salvador didn’t leave until noon, but with all the delays I have experienced on this trip, it didn’t faze me much. I finally arrived to the Salvador airport at 2:30 PM, but my bags weren’t there. I filed a report with Delta and left the baggage department with the CIEE contact information. My taxi to the hotel cost me $43 USD plus a 10% tip of R$8, which surprised me a lot. (The currency in Brazil is in reais and you pay for the taxi before you go anywhere.) It may have so expensive because I used the airport taxi service but I reasoned that I’d rather pay more and know that the taxi is safe than to risk getting into a taxi without knowing. When I got to the hotel I checked in and put my carry-on luggage in my room. I saw the schedule of my roommate sitting on the bed and caught back up with the group. They were in the middle of an orientation session which I caught the majority of and one of the staff from CIEE (Carol) gave me a copy of the schedule, a program guide, and a letter from my host family. After dinner at the hotel (which was my first solid meal since these crazy travels began), we met with our host parents. (Dinner by the way was buffet style with lots of fruit, bread, rice, vegetables dishes, sliced cold cuts, and fish. I tried mashed spinach, mostly unrecognizable fruit, mixed veggie rice, and ham. The seasoning on everything was very different than anything that I am used to… very tropical and flavorable.) I am living with a woman whose name is Conchita. She lives with two daughters, one is 30 and the other is 25, in an apartment in a region of Salvador called Garcia. It is close to the beach and the university and many other students in the program live close by. Conchita was a teacher but now she is retired and does artisan work. Her daughters work all day, the oldest one as a systems analyst and the younger one in psychology. She has another daughter who is married but is usually around the house (or so I am told though I haven’t met her yet.) The married daughter and her son each have 2 children. Her son is moving with his family from Panama to Peru soon.