Remembering Where I Am

I love Brazil and I love living in Brazil. I have gotten used to pretty much everything about life here, and it all seems normal now. But sometimes I am reminded that this is not where I come from.

Last night I was waiting for the bus at about 10:45 at night. There were three women at the bus stop, and not much traffic on the normally very busy street. When my bus arrived, I and one of the women started to get on the bus when a passenger stuck her head out of the window and shouted, "Women, get on the bus! Get on, now!"

The two women stood up, confused, and looked at the woman on the bus. The fare-taker opened his window and told them, "Get on, there are some guys on bikes coming to rob you."

All four of us got on the bus, and the fare-taker told the women that they could get off the bus at the next stop -- one of the busiest intersections in the city, and an almost-robbery-proof location. He said that the bus had passed four men on bicycles circling around waiting for a break in the traffic so they could rob the people waiting at the bus stop.

However normal Brazil seems to me these days, this is something I will never get used to.