Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Reflecting on a Summer in Rio

FLICKR.COM Rio de Janeiro by night.
FLICKR.COM
Rio de Janeiro by night.

I’ll admit that when I first got my housing assignment for this summer, I was a little wary. The sheet of paper said that I was to be living with a 76-year-old woman named Josenir. I didn’t have a roommate and the only other information on the sheet was that she was a psychotherapist. The homestay component of my program in Rio was the thing I was most excited about and though I had originally hoped for a lively, young family who would help me adapt to the culture, I decided to make the best of the situation.

Josenir’s email address was listed right below her name so I wrote her a quick message, expecting a response in a few weeks, if I got one at all. Imagine my surprise when she responded, 20 minutes later. In response to me addressing her with the respectful “senhora,” she told me to call her Jô. She asked me what I liked to eat and said she was looking forward to meeting me. I realized that I was really excited to meet her too and my summer with Jô turned out to be like nothing I could have expected.

One of the first things Jô told me when I arrived was that she was a modern woman. She has a smart TV, Netflix and Wi-Fi. I was one of the only students in the program with wireless at my homestay and some of my friends even made a habit of dropping by in the evenings to connect. She still works part time and her clients would come to the apartment in the evenings for their weekly therapy sessions. Jô loves to travel and more of her children and grandchildren live in North America and Europe than in Brazil. She’s taking a senior English class at the same institution where I was taking Portuguese.

Jô also told me that one of the most important things to her was independence. When I asked her what her rules were, she told me, “I’m independent. You’re independent. You’re an adult, be smart but do what you want.” She gave me her cell phone number, not so that I would check in with her regularly or update her on my whereabouts but, she told me, so that she could try to save me if I needed it.

While she definitely gave me my space, she also took great care of me. Every day I woke up to a breakfast of toast, cheese, fruit and delicious coffee. Every night she made us a hearty meal of rice, beans, potatoes, either fish or chicken, and some kind of vegetable. She always had ice cream because she knew that I liked it.

Jô was pretty hip with her fashion advice. As I was getting ready to meet up with some friends one day, she came into my room and told me, “Young women in Rio always wear bikinis, even if they’re not going to the beach.” So I donned my swimsuit under my sundress and noticed all day that the Brazilian women around me had done the same.

Jô also knew what was up when it came to Brazilian men. When I asked her where I should go for a weekend getaway, she responded, “Ilha Grande is beautiful and they have lovely beaches. But, Búzios has handsome boys. Even the waiters made you stop and stare.” Two weeks into my trip she asked me if I had a Brazilian boyfriend yet, to which I replied with a vague reference to an “amigo” I had been spending a lot of time with. Towards the end of the trip, she cut me off when I said I was going out for a drink with this “friend.” “He’s not your friend,” she insisted. “You don’t spend so much time getting ready to go see a ‘friend.’”

When I first arrived in Brazil, my Portuguese was only good enough to talk to Jô about simple things like when my classes started or what was for dinner. During that last week in Rio however, our meal time conversations revolved around more complex themes like family, love and Jô’s own life story. After our last meal together, she asked me how I felt about leaving Brazil and going home, and advised me, “Be happy that it happened, and that it was good. But you can still cry, dear.”

In my opinion, I won the host mom lottery. I’m going to miss Jô, but I plan to look her up the next time I’m in Rio, which I hope will be very soon. And at the very least, we can be Facebook friends.

Allison Hillsbery is a rising sophomore in the McDonough School of Business. This is the final appearance of Ready for Rio.

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