The story so far…

This blog is about England. And Carlisle. And my year here in the most northern city of England.

It will have some photos, it will have some awesome thoughts, just out of the blue. Maybe there would be things that you won’t understand. Maybe there would be things that I won’t understand either. It is just something really complex when you think about it: why do people actually read other’s blog? I usually read them to get in contact with them, but then I also like to put some comments, even some really stupid ones like: Hi, passed here. C ya. Bye.

So, please, be gentle with me and do me the favour to write something. It doesn’t have to be whole sentences. A smile face is really great! J

Ok, you say me that you don’t bother about what I think, feel or do. SO WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE? Come on. You do not really want to know about this year in England, even more in Carlisle, do you? I mean, Carlisle is not London, it is probably so much more exciting to read other’s blogs…

 

THE STORY SO FAR

25 years ago I was born Brazilian in a city named São Leopoldo. Oldest daughter of three children, I kind of always felt myself responsible of being an example to my brothers. I mean, there is no problem in being an example, but sometimes you just feel it as a burden. You have that impression  that you could never ever be wrong and, therefore, all your failures are much worse than the ones of the others. Well, I actually don’t even know why I’m telling you this and if this makes any sense. Maybe this is just something that you should know about me, before trying to understand what I wanted to say in that sentence in that poem… Well, maybe I shouldn’t have told you that.

Of course, it doesn’t stop here. I grew wonderfully up, and when I’ve got to the age of 9 I went to Germany and spent almost 6 years living there. It was a great time, where I’ve learned quite much about learning languages – I went there as a virgin in languages, I really didn’t know anything about it. Imagine a girl, wanting to play hide and seek with her neighbour pal carrying a dictionary under one of her arms. Yep, that’s me. I know it sounds stupid. But you kind of learn to be stupid when learning a new language, because you want to communicate yourself.

Well, years passed by, and I returned to my home country, and my hometown. Finished school, went to university. I started doing English, I wanted to be a translator. Actually, I prefer to be a teacher than a translator – the work of a translator is kind of boring. You don’t see people. You just spend hours translating things, that you sometimes don’t even know if people would like to read. And I really love to read and be amoung other students. Feel the excitement of learning.

In the middle of the course I decided to do something else. I had too many empty hours, that I wasn’t able to fullfil with a job or hobbies. So I decided to do another course at the university where my dad was given classes. I choose phisiotherapy, just out of the blue. I didn’t know what it means to be one, neither if I wanted to work with it. It was just a different course. After 3 years and a half (the terms begin in feb/mar in Brazil) I’m almost done with it, and I not only love it but also want to work with it later on.

Strange ways life take.

Well, but why are you then now in England, doing voluntary work among young people during a whole year instead of being in the clinic or hospital, caring about your patients and finishing your university course?

Good question. Not so easy to explain because there are many different factors that made me take this decision. Maybe you can discover them with the passing of the days of these boring blog. What I can say now is that I applied to this interchange of the Norwegian Mission Society after some pray, but without expecting it really to happen. And when it happened, many things changed. And are still changing while I’m here.