Last day of Bagunçaço and the Communist Women’s rights march.

It’s been ten days since I woke up in Salvador, Brazil for the first time. In those ten days, so many people and so many names I couldn’t pronounce came and went. There was so much physical effort exerted and I was so frustrated from getting lost in translation, I would be relieved to go for a three hour Brazilian massage. Today was our second day at Bagunçaço School. It was the first time we really got in touch with other musicians, dancers, and capuieristas close to our age. The school has students ranging from eight to twenty-five years old. Even though making fun of Americans was popular and, not surprisingly, very easy for the kids and teachers at the school, I took it as one of my favorite experiences. By the second day it felt as though we had been there for weeks, we were racing with the younger kids, giving piggy back rides, playing the drums, and Franco and I taught several youngsters how to play hot cross buns on the recorder. Teaching entirely through hand motions, I think it sounded pretty nice for our recorder players with twenty-minute careers. Lunch was served on plastic plates buffet style by the friendliest lunch ladies I’ve ever met. We all stuffed ourselves with fried chicken sticks, spaghetti, sautéed beef, french-fries and homemade mango juice before going back outside to beat each other up and play soccer for several hours.---Miles Kozatch