Master's Complete

I now have my master's degree in International Relations from the Universidade Federal de Santa Catarina and it was the hardest thing I've ever done. By far.

In the beginning, I wanted to do this program to take advantage of an opportunity to get an advanced degree for free while at the same time fully integrating myself into this culture and language. I underestimated how difficult it would be to learn a language and simultaneously study at the graduate level, while caring for one child and growing another / having a newborn. The learning curve was steep and often very frustrating:

* I remember orientation day before classes started. We had to stand up and introduce ourselves, and I didn't know anyone yet and was incredibly nervous to speak portuguese in front of about 50 new and current students, plus all the professors. I introduced myself as "American" and the program coordinator cut me off and said that she was also American (everyone laughed) as was everyone else in the room (more laughter), meaning "South America" is "America," too. She explained that the United States "robbed" the term, and that there are actually two continents full of Americans in the world. So, I am "North American" -- and so embarrassed. It was only day one and everyone had already laughed at me. I was sure I'd never have any friends or contribute any intelligent thoughts in class. Neither turned out to be true.

* I remember getting back the first test of my first semester. It was four questions and took four hours to complete. On one of my essay responses, the professor wrote in the margin that all my information was correct, but she doesn't understand why I wrote any of it because it in no way pertained to what was being asked. Oops. No points were awarded on that one.

* I remember sitting at my desk doing school work at home one night as Geoff helped Eri off to bed. When she woke up in the morning and came out of her room, I was back at it. Confused, she asked, "Mama, did you not go to bed?"

* I remember crying on the drive home after one class because we were assigned to do peer reviews on our thesis proposals and I didn't think anyone would want to be my partner. That night, my first friend in Brazil and now my friend forever, Marcel, texted me to say that after I left class to go pick up Eri from preschool, everyone paired up, and he and I would be partners. I cried even more.

* By the time we had a newborn, I was half-way through the program and even more determined not to quit. Thus far I had only missed one class because of morning sickness that wouldn't let up and two weeks of school to recover from the birth. I managed a B average, but it was a struggle.

Throughout the two-year-program, I thought about quitting all the time. I constantly asked myself why I wasn't sitting on the beach, barely able to utter the phrase "I don't speak portuguese," and having a carefree, latina existence. But, then I would have squandered an incredible opportunity to better myself and truly become fluent in a foreign language (and not in the way that people order at Mexican restaurants).

Then, so close to the end, I almost didn't pass. Students are required to have a 3.0 gpa in their classes before they are allowed to defend their theses, and I got a C (guess which professor; yep my fellow American). Because we were leaving Brazil in the following months, this meant I wouldn't have had enough time to take another class to raise my gpa and go onto to publish my research, both of which were required to get the degree. By some miracle, I got an A in my final class of my final semester, balancing out that C and qualifying me to defend my thesis.

In the end, I didn't quit, as cheesy as it sounds, for my children. I want to show them that continued education, self-improvement and hard work are important, as is perseverance, even when you're beyond exhausted and can't make much sense of what's going on (quite literally). Plus, Americans, yep that's right Americans, are tough.

So, come to me with any questions you may have about international relations, because, it has been determined, that I am a master of this.

Defending my master's dissertation
(I used LOTS of slides just in case my accent was a little thick that day).

Signing the paperwork to certify my
completion of the International Relations program.

Two years in the making! I researched renewable energy,
focusing on China and the United States,
the world's two largest energy consumers.

Geoff Steeves, PhD

He did it! 

In just two and a half years, and in a foreign language no less, Geoff earned his PhD in economics. 

We came to Brazil in 2012 because Geoff was awarded the Olmsted Scholarship, which places military officers in the country of their choice to increase cultural connections, part of which includes studying at a local university. Because Geoff arrived in-country with his master's in econ from the University of Colorado - Boulder (Go Buffs), he decided to pursue a doctorate rather than a second master's degree in something else. As it turned out, the PhD program in economics is new and Geoff was the first student at UFSC to be awarded a doctorate in economics. And he finished with a 3.75 gpa. 

Below is the big day -- his dissertation defense and the after party: 

Definitely looks like a doctor to me.

Nearly three years in the making!

Tough crowd: This is the panel of professors that reviewed Geoff's
dissertation, listened to his defense, and offered insight on his
research and findings. 

Adoring fans (plus me! I'm taking the pictures): These are Geoff's
buddies from the econ program. Some are earning their masters' and
others are earning their PhDs.

Geoff signing off on the completion of his program
(and practicing the ubiquitous, illegible doctor's signature.)

The after party: Geoff and his two academic advisors, Francis and Guilherme. 

Eri and Leo mingling. 

Supply and demand.

My mom serving the cake. My parents were in town
and helped us celebrate.

I'm so proud.

Eri and her Grandpa Booboo.

Tidbits

WWUSD (What Would the U.S. Do?): Every week, one of our apartment building's residents (who are mostly all really old), posts a "Thought of the Week" in the elevator. It is a quote, very much like the ones graduating seniors carefully choose for the yearbook by someone famous like Shakespeare or Mother Teresa. They are always handwritten in perfect cursive on special flower paper and leave you feeling deep and introspective. Until recently. The "Thought of the Week" was replaced by a one-page (typed, single-spaced) open letter to all the building's dog owners, at least one of which did not clean up his dog's pee in the aforementioned elevator on several occasions. (Geoff thought the offender was the half-Chihuahua, half-something-else dog on 5. I'm guessing it was the Pomeranian on 11; he wears a necktie but doesn't really seem that dignified to me.) Either way, the letter writer (who lives on 12) had had enough. By mid-week, one of the building's residents cornered Geoff in the parking garage. Standing the shadows, speaking in a hushed voice (at least in my mind), our neighbor told Geoff he had already spoken with another resident and they wanted to know if Geoff would be willing to have a private conversation about this situation and how it would be resolved in the United States. (I'm guessing he didn't want the advice: "In the United States, we clean up pee.") Geoff agreed to a confidential meeting. We are still waiting for the secret knock on the back door, but meanwhile the "Thought of the Week" has returned and our building has a new designated dog area.   

The Accent, Still: We have been living in Brazil for nearly two and half years now and our Portuguese is pretty good. It occurred to me though that no one has commented on our accents. As soon as we begin speaking, it's very obvious that we are native English speakers, but no one finds this delightful, much like we do when the British or Australians speak English. Our accent has been described as "strong," "very strong" and "German-sounding," but never charming. Not even once. In fact, it can prompt a rather strong reaction from the native speaker. This is:

1.     the loud talker, who assumes if he speaks louder, you will understand better.

2.     the slow talker

3.     the emphatic gesturer

4.     a combination of the slow talker, emphatic gesturer, which is so ridiculous it's very difficult to pay attention to what he or she is saying

5.     the down-talker, who confuses your accent with your intelligence level

6.     the face-scruncher, who understands your attempt at speaking in their native tongue, but apparently finds it so painful they must scrunch their face to make sense of it all.


Happiness:

Happy Halloween / Feliz Dia das Bruxas

For our third Halloween in Brazil, Eri, 4, dressed up as a surgeon in scrubs made by her Grandma Margy while Leo, 1, wore a jack-o-lantern made by Pottery Barn Kids. And Geoff surprised Eri yet again by wearing his Easter costume at her preschool's party. She loved it. There really isn't trick-or-treating in Brazil, but the party had a candy exchange, which was thrilling for Eri and disappointing for me. Brazilian candy can best be described as "not chocolate" and "crappy." (See below.)

(Not one mini Snickers.)

Buenos Aires, Argentina

Our last big trip while living in South America and our last trip out-of-the-country was to Buenos Aires.  For Geoff and I, this has been our only repeat destination, though this time, our two children and my parents went with us, which was not the case when we were in Buenos Aires on our honeymoon. 

We spent almost two weeks there, first in the city and then at a countryside inn and polo club. Although Argentina is plagued with financial woes, the places we visited were still just as classy as we remembered without being run-down or even dirty.

Highlights included: good meals (and even better wine); polo lessons (much harder than it looks); the zoo; shopping; tango; city sight-seeing.

Argentina is famous for its beef. We don't eat red meat, so
we enjoyed the dairy. 

Nana, Leo and Eri on the Hop-On-Hop-Off bus tour.

Travel buddies.

We did a lot of shopping in BA, especially at the artesanal fairs.
About the only thing we didn't take home was from this booth
selling a variety of dreadlocks, which still make me gag a little. 

On a date, enjoying some really good treats and even better conversation.

These birds tried to eat Leo. 

Keeping a safe distance.

Ralphy.

Badass.

The view from our hotel rooms was the famous Recoleta Cemetery,
where Eva Peron and what looks like a lot of other people are buried. This was the
highlight for Eri, 4, who was fascinated by the concept.

Boca Juniors stadium.

Authentic Argentine bbq. The menu at this hole-in-the-wall place
listed "horse," but the woman assured me it was the style of the dish, not
the actual meat. Still, we didn't take our chances. 

Obligatory selfie!

Open-mouth kiss for Nana.

My dad and Geoff went to a soccer game …



… while the girls plus Leo went to high tea. Leo meat-pawed his way
through the crust-less sandwiches and all the little cakes, though we still felt fancy.

Our countryside inn and polo club:

Polo is huge in Argentina, so we spent a weekend at an all-inclusive
polo club, riding horses, swimming and relaxing.

Geoff and I took a polo lesson. He picked it up pretty quickly and played
well, while I enjoyed riding the horse and listening to our instructor's British accent.
Regardless, it was one of the most fun travel activities I've ever done. 

We played in match against a British couple. With my only polo
 knowledge coming from the Ralph Lauren insignia and completely lacking
Geoff's natural ability for the sport, Team America was defeated.

Eri and I with "Rosie."

Even after watching our polo lesson and all of its swinging and missing,
Eri told me she wanted to be on my team. So cute.

Happiness.

Life is good.