Rebecca "Becca" Mack

2008-09 Outbound to Brazil

Hometown: Ponte Vedra Beach, Florida

School: The Bolles School, Jacksonville, Florida

Sponsor: Ponte Vedra Beach Rotary Club, District 6970, Florida

Host: Catanduva-Norte Rotary Club, District 4480, Brazil

Bio

Becca's Bio

Who am I?

When I was 5 years old, I wanted to be a Power Ranger. Not just any Ranger (although they were all, admittedly, phenomenal), I wanted to be the Pink Ranger. For weeks on end my friends and I would defeat the evil forces on our kindergarten playground, determinately keeping our apple juice and 24 packs of Crayola crayons safe from villains while still having time for snack. Now, at 18 years old, I have retired from my days as a wannabe spandex-clad superhero and progressed (I hope) to much more mature ambitions. I still have a love of all things superhero, and shamefully attempt to hide my overwhelming love for all Marvel comics from my family and friends. However, I do play golf and attempt to lead a relatively normal life.

I am the youngest of 3 kids, and my brother, sister and I are each a year and a half apart. Growing up, I had built-in playmates, and even now that we are all ancient (18, 19, and 21) we still attempt to have a good time together. One of our latest endeavors is learning how to unicycle, and are all nobly withstanding the pain and humiliation that comes along with it. I applied for Rotary exchange because I wanted not only to see the world, but also to experience it. I have always been fascinated with languages and culture, especially the history of language. Although I have traveled throughout the US and Europe, I still haven’t quenched my insatiable thirst for exploring.

So there I am. A failed superhero, unicycling, history-loving explorer who is ready for action and prepared to jump into the world and make her mark, however big or small it may be.

August 9 Journal

A year ago, I never would have imagined myself on the balcony of an apartment in Catanduva, Brasil, discussing grizzly bears with my host mother in Portuguese and learning that sign language is my new best friend. I never would have imagined that McFly, a lesser known British band, would be the obsession of my sixteen year old host sister, and I know only in my nightmare would I have thought that I would sleep underneath a giant poster of them whose eyes follow me wherever I go, like the paintings in the Haunted Mansion. (I’m just kidding, the drummer is actually quite a fox. I’m sure he’ll be nice to wake up to in the morning.)

My point, other than I have a rather pitiful imagination, is that everything I thought I prepared myself for, all my preconceived notions about Rotary Youth Exchange and Brasil, were wrong. And I think that’s a good thing. No, a great thing. For one, my evil American father had, in an attempt to break my Diet Coke habit, tried to convince me that it didn’t exist in Brasil. Well, Dad, if it doesn’t exist here, what is that six pack in the fridge that my host mom bought just for me with my name on it? Magic Juice?

I’m finding the surprises to be the best part of my journey. I never knew that all I needed to do to bond with my new family was to completely forget the word for lettuce every three seconds. I was in the grocery store with my new mother and sister, and we were playing a game to see if I could name the items in the cart after they told me once. And I obviously won’t be asking for fruit salad anytime soon, because for the life of me, after naming the two items at least twenty times in the grocery store, the car ride back, and every time I have walked into the kitchen, I still can’t remember!

Wait, I got it: abacaxi (pineapple) and alface (lettuce). Okay, so I had a little help from the online dictionary, but I eventually got it. And to think it only took me one time to learn urso (bear). Maybe if I developed a fear of being attacked by pineapples while hiking in Yellowstone. Maybe then I would remember their name!

So a day’s worth of knowledge, a healthy fear of pineapples, bears, and British bands named after Michael J. Fox characters, and I can’t wait to continue my journey!

Boa noite!

August 26 Journal

Well, two weeks have passed in Brazil, and I keep expecting to wake up tomorrow morning to find the Honeymoon period over and expecting all the wonderful things in Brazil to turn on me. (See, Mr. Kalter? I did read the handbook!) Yet, everyday, I continue to find myself more and more impressed by the culture, the people, and, of course, the delicious food.

I was a person who had never really paid much attention to Portuguese before, except to taunt my Spanish teachers when they said that all the countries in South America speak Spanish, which I still do quite frequently. And why do we always ignore Suriname, Guyana and French Guiana? Don’t they count? Although my host mom loves to make fun of my American accent, I am picking up a lot more of the language than I thought I would, which is nice. An American accent in Portuguese is over pronouncing the letter R, which I find rather hilarious given the fact that, as a child I required extensive speech classes to learn how to pronounce the letter R. My poor parents, having to spend all that money for speech classes when they could have just sent me to Brazil and no one would have been the wiser.

I have been to two Brazilian parties, which were very fun but only helped to validate my already white and nerdy image to myself. The Brazilians don’t even start getting ready to go out until nine, which is the time I am usually tucking me and my teddy bear into bed to watch bad American TV. (I can’t believe how sad that sounded. I do go out occasionally, when I can resist my the urge to hop into my immensely comfy bed.) The other thing I’ve noticed is that while apparently all Brazilians came out of the womb doing the samba, I am dance-impaired. My sprinkler and shopping cart routine were no match for all my Brazilian friends, and served to do nothing but both amuse and frustrate the brave souls who tried to help me learn. I’m amazed I didn’t injure someone with my overenthusiastic hip movements. Nevertheless, the Brazilians seem to appreciate just the effort, which is nice.

I also never knew that my extensive, yet seemingly useless, knowledge of American pop culture would ever come in handy for anything other than beating my dad at Trivial Pursuit. However, it seems that merely knowing that the band McFly was in the Lohan movie Just My Luck gained me some mad street cred in Brazil, and I am not ashamed to say I love it. Heck, I might even get a gangsta chain or something.

Now, my last bit of news from way down south is that I am apparently dreaming in Portuguese. I say apparently because I don’t remember anything, but both my host mom and sister have told me that they heard me talking in my sleep in Portuguese. What was I saying? “I forgot English,” that’s what!

I fear I must say tchau now, because I have very important exchange student things to do. Namely, going to the gym with my host mom to work off all the delish food I have been eating. I do, however, want to take a moment to thank all those people involved in helping me, especially the Rotary Youth Exchange and the Ponte Vedra Beach Rotary Club. Without you, I would be sitting on my couch eating Ramen and watching Grey’s Anatomy, the only international experience in my life being the occasional trip to Epcot. So thank you for giving me the experience and skills of a lifetime!

October 30 Journal

I have been in Brasil for almost three months now, and the honeymoon period has yet to wear off. I feel like an impromptu Vegas bride, who after partaking in a quickie Elvis-themed wedding in the wee hours of the morning, discovers that the stranger she married actually has grown on her as a person. Of course, my flight to Brasil was lacking both the flair of the Vegas strip and the presence of the King (although there were some questionable sideburns on one of the flight attendants), but the oh-so-loveable Brasil has grown on me in more ways than I thought was possible. We certainly share way more than just a love of long sunset walks on the beach and poor estimations of our alcohol tolerance.

As any normal teenager, I occasionally have received invitations to social gatherings that might be classified as “parties” by those of a more advanced age than myself. Of course, only after schoolwork and chores are completed would I ever go to one of these events, but they are an entertaining break from scholarly pursuits. However, prior to the 10 hour plane ride, I was entirely clueless of what Brasil had in store for me on the party front. It was definitely not on the Wikipedia page next to the information about population growth and free election. If I were to contribute to the entry I might edit a line or two, solely for the purpose of educating future Rotary youth: “The Brazilian Federation is based on the union of three autonomous political entities: the States, the Municipalities and the PARTY ALL NIGHT LONG.” I’m not complaining or anything, I’m just a bit taken aback.

For those who aren’t as familiar with Brazilian “festas”, an example: I come home from school on a Thursday and tool around my house, napping and drinking Guarana (the nectar of the gods sent from Olympus conveniently canned and sold in the grocery store for us mortals) when my host mom informs me that I will be attending one of the aforementioned “social gatherings.” Of course, we don’t go out until the late hours of the night, so I have plenty more time to curl up with my teddy bear and go back to sleep. My host sister and I don’t even start getting ready until 9:00, when we decide on our outfits and put on our makeup. Then, around 10 or 11, we go out and join the rest of Brasil in the night life. Ah, what a nice “vida” this is.

Other than the parties, Brasil has introduced me to more foods than I thought was possible. I, a stupid American, had actually grown tired of meat in the U.S. I now know it was because I had not truly tasted all the varieties available. Brasil is like a meat carnival, where everyday I am introduced to another delicious way to not be a vegetarian. And of course, to counteract all this meat are the most delicious breads known to man. One, known simply as “pão de queijo” (cheese bread) has captivated my attention since the first day I arrived. Not only is it delicious, but provides a built-in intellectual puzzle. I am also sad to admit that, despite being the recipient of a high school diploma from a well respected establishment, I have spent many sleepless nights trying to figure out how they get the cheese inside of the bread. Mom and Dad, I have failed you. At least now I can introduce you to my new friend Brazil. Did I mention we met in Vegas…?