Isso é normal?

Walking around the desolate streets of Lins on a Saturday morning, one might wonder what has happened to the people.  Shops are closed, streets are empty and birds can be heard chirping in the trees.  But as the sun begins to set something strange happens.  Voices begin to be heard, music starts to play, showers start to turn on, as the Brazilians leave their houses and enter the streets.

Last night Valeria (a friend who speaks a little English) invited Rachel and I to go out with her and her friends.  A car arrived to our house around 8pm and Valeria introduced us to Façao and Nubia.  I introduced myself and attempted my best Portuguese in an attempt to speak with them. "No speak English," they replied, confirming my fear that my accent is in fact, terrible.  Façao (imagine my struggle to pronounce that) drove us around the town for a bit meeting some more of Valeria's friends and stopping at a house so that Nubia could purchase five pairs of shoes.  Afterwards, Façao dropped us off at Nubia's house where we met some more friends.  After leaving the car, I asked Valeria if Façao was dating Nubia and she replied, "So, so."  "So, so?" Rachel and I questioned.  "He buy her things.  She kiss him.  She no like him.  She has other boyfriend," Valeria explained.  I guess that's how the girls do it in Brazil...

After spending an hour or so posing as a show-and-tell item for Valeria's friends, as they asked us to repeat phrase after phrase of Portuguese and proceeded to imitate and laugh at us, we headed to Valeria's house to get ready.  It was around 10pm and Rachel and I assumed that we would be leaving soon.  After about ten games of Uno, an intense game of battleship and a failed attempt at pickup sticks, it was midnight and Valeria decided it was time to shower and get ready.  The next few hours consisted of us waiting for more of Valeria's friends to get ready, and a trip back to our house so that I could change out of my flip flops and attempt to explain to a flabbergasted Valeria that I do not own a pair of high heels.  We arrived to the disco at 2:30am.  Valeria and her friends were wide awake; I was patiently waiting for my second wind to kick in.

From this point on, it might not be too hard to imagine the scenery.  A bunch of Brazilian girls with straight hair, dressed in high heels, fancy dresses, and covered in hours worth of makeup, standing amongst a crowd of Brazilian men about the same height dressed to impress in the same outfit they wore to pick up girls the day before.  All inside a room that is too dark to be able to actually see.  Most hands are bare of any rings, some hands with rings are shown confidently holding their drink, and others hands are sneakily hidden in their back pocket.  (*In Brazil, boyfriends and girlfriends wear rings on their right hands to signify that they are dating- the ring switches hands once they are engaged).  But most people are there for one main reason, to dance...

I am not sure whether or not it is due to the language barrier, but the Brazilian men seem to be a lot more forward than any other men I have ever encountered.  A typical encounter might go something like this...

"Oi," they say as they approach you.
"Oi," I reply back.
They then say something in Portuguese that I don't  understand.
I reply "Nao falla Portuguese.  Falla ingles."
At this point, they cut right to the point and ask "Voce tem un namorado?" (Do you have a boyfriend?)
To which I reply "Sim, meu namorado vives em Estados Unidos." (Yes, my boyfriend lives in the United States), depending on whether or not they are attractive (just kidding, Dan).
They then proceed to attempt to dance with you anyway, or push their luck like one guy and in their best English ask, "Can I kiss you mouth?"

After a few hours of some failed attempts at dancing and some bruised knees as a result, it was 4:30am and time for Façao to take us home.  Or so we thought...After about twenty minutes of driving in circles around the block, Rachel asked Valeria what exactly we were doing.  "Driving," she replied, as if there was nothing strange about driving in circles around the block at 5 o'clock in the morning.  "Well, can he drive us home?" Rachel asked.  "Okay," she acquiesced, "but it is early," she replied with a genuine look of confusion.  After a grand tour of the city, we finally arrived home as the sun was just about starting to rise.  "Boa noite," they told us.  "Bom dia" I thought.