Paga nada.

It turns out graduation is a week-long event here. There was not one but two religious ceremonies, one a Catholic mass and the other an amalgamation of all the “other” religions. There were two separate graduation ceremonies. The first was longer and more celebratory, the second shorter and more formal. And then there was the party, an all-night bash requiring formal wear with three bands. Suffice it to say the occasion was sufficiently recognized.

A crowd gathers for a political demonstration in front of Cathedral Metropolitana, in downtown Sao Paulo. It had something to do with “taking the power back” from the capitalist pigs and ended with a march down the street. As Law Graduate Joe says, “the commies are everywhere in Latin America.”

Anyone who has ever complained about the length of a formal event should attempt to sit through a graduation ceremony in a foreign language. After nearly three and a half hours, your correspondentfelt like a lobotomy patient. But it was quite a bash, with a light show, an orchestra playing adaptations of bad American pop songs and spirited speeches I didn´t understand from faculty and students alike.

Joe’s family did not come to this ceremony, since there would be several more happening later in the week. So while other graduates got formal pictures with their families, Joe got a picture with the resident Gringo.

Joe and Flavio celebrate Joe’s law degree.

The beautiful meeting hall at San Francisco University, one of the oldest and most prestigious schools in Brazil. This was the setting for the “other” religious ceremony and the “official” graduation.

Jose Luis de Rosa Santos Senior with Jose Luis de Rosa Santos Junior.

Joe´s girlfriend Bea, middle, with her mother and father, a well-mannered but intimidatingly large man who is has black belt in judo. Scariest potential father-in-law ever.

Flavio, Felipe, Joe and I after graduation. Bea and Sara, Felipe’s girlfriend in back.

Joe shows off his degree to his father and mother.

Formal wear was required for Saturday’s big bash, which posed a problem for someone who had been living out of their backpack with four changes of clothes for the last three months. Luckily one of Joe’s friends Alex was just as tall (though a little thinner) than me and had an extra suit. Ironic that I wore a suit for probably the third time in my life in Latin America, but what can you do? Joe’s family and friends were all in attendance at the party, which took place in a giant warehouse outside Sao Paulo. An estimated 7,000 people were there to enjoy three bands, free drinks and excellent catered food until 6:30 a.m. Once again, I fear I am getting too old to party like a Brazilian. The night was tons of fun, despite Leandro and Fozzie both over-imbibing and caking the floor near our table in catered food and Johnny Walker Black Label. At about 6 a.m., it was time to leave – the Brazilian equivalent of modern country music was a bit grating that early in the morning. The night ended and morning began on an even more somber note as we came upon a motorcycle wreck on the freeway within minutes of it happening. The police had just arrived but hadn´t had time to put sheets over the two that looked to have perished.

I’ll be sending this along with a job application to the CIA when I get back.

Fozzie and Leandro pose with the infamous “big wooden spoon” of Mount Si High School Class of ’02 fame.

From left, me, Fozzie, Leandro, Augusto and Joe.

I´m a bit jealous hearing about the cold weather at home, since it doesn’t seem like Christmas time without a bit of cold. But Paulista Avenue is full of Christmas spirit, with the banks putting up huge displays and trees and the park covered in lights. And though it is supposed to be getting into summertime weather here, it has mostly been cool and cloudy with occasional rain – like Seattle in March. Damn global warming.

Perverted Brazilian Christmas store display.

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