Happy New Year!

December 31, 2012

Went to our old beach over the dunes and thru the narrow pathways to the ocean. It was very crowded with many tourists under striped umbrellas, with floppy hats, colorful string bikinis, sarongs wrapped ‘round their necks to the tops of their thighs, batting balls around with hard paddles, a few brave and perilous surfers. Peddlers with ice cream carts and pastels here and there. Quite a few enjoying the waves and many memories of the very same sand under my feet with my daughter holding my hand to prevent her from being swept away in the sea. Nothing like the smell or sea salt and feel of sand pasted to my skin. Ah!

The guests will arrive around 9:00 or 10:00 and the games begin! Years past we were able to head to the beach, traditionally everyone will be wrapped in white and out on the streets to greet one another and wish each other a Happy New Year. People offer tribute to Iemaja who is the egotistical and materialistic wish-granter of the sea. Shiny jewelry and money is a typical gift, white rose and candles assure your desires will be awarded. Whether you believe in Iemaja or not the Brasilians generate a wish list for this Goddess.

A quick Happy New Year to all of you. Hope you have a very exciting and festive evening with friends and family. Request your wishes and desires to Iemaja (just think of large fresh salt waves and the sounds of the sea surrounds you as you consider what you want in your life) and we will await the results!

Much love, peace and happiness to you all!

Kisses,

Paula

Pizza for 14

December 30, 2012

Dono collided with the sink, fell in the tile bathroom, badly scraped her back and hip. She was up far too late in the night with her new camel top and pants with the colorful beaded necklace I gave her, demanding plain cheese pizza cut into little squares and slurping freezer chilled Antartica beer. She is resting sheepishly in her dorm-sized room atop a pile of thin blankets after accepting the Rescue Remedy tincture I offered.

Today appears to be a far better day to head off to the beach with the crew. The New Years Eve party guest list is growing exponentially as the grocery store necessities breed.

The quick trip to the local market proved to be a reunion of sorts. Ran into Claudio, the son of a good friend who has a pale and lethargic infant daughter and a “new” distant drab woman with him. He appeared shocked to see me blinking rapidly in nervousness. I recognized him immediately and gave him a kiss on the cheek and a big hug hello. He had been living on his mother’s sitio outside a small town quite a distance from here and gave up the farm life recently. He was wild and uneducated, thin as a straw when adopted by my friend after spending his first eight years in one of the biggest favellas in Sao Paulo. I am uncertain as to what his life is like now yet I expect he is still nearly illiterate and lacks skills to support himself and his family (believe he has a son who is five with another woman.) Forever shy and skiddish he is a tall, handsome and tender young man who seems embarrassed by his own presence.

Joe’s colleague arrived from Calgary and will be here for ten days. She is taking pictures of everything including the maracuja drink (cashew fruit) Joao made for her. Poor thing will be drunk before the dinner is served. The custom is for everyone to share a big drink, pass it around or just grab the glass from across the table. She has no clue why people slurp from her drink as they stroll pass the table. I noticed her distress and explained the custom. Also encouraged her to hang out at the bbq since everyone gobbles the meat as it finishes cooking. If she waits, there won’t be any left!

Getting ready for the chorrasco…just now I realize tomorrow night everyone will be elegant in fancy dress and all I have will not be comfortable…unless of course I just start drinking early and forget to be embarrassed.

Happy New Year everyone!

Grandma's Day Out

December 29, 2012

Had to return home to warm up from the afternoon at the beach with hot coffee and some sort of egg tart for a late snack. Dono snored in the car a bit after requesting and chowing down half the pan of her ole favorite dish of ground beef layered with bananas and crusty breading on top, lost her sunglasses and misplaced her cane a few times. She doesn’t get out much!

I had forgotten how unfortunate yet relatively common terrible table service is at many of the restaurants and bars. Consequently the adults drink more beer and cachasa, children gain additional orders of hot and crispy French fries before the REAL meal of breaded fish bits, shrimp balls and cheese, beef and shrimp pastels finally arrive with crunchy and firm manioc fries. Since they only serve watermelon juice, kids drank sodas.

Sea water is too cold and eventually it rained and turned windy. Consequently we moved the double tables back under the covered frigid cement slab that housed additional tables of families drinking and eating together. Theo declared he wanted to go home immediately so we piled into the car stopping at a small and crowded grocery store on the way home to get the preverbal paozinho (fresh French rolls) and straws for Dono since she has difficulty drinking directly from a cup. Passed by one of my old houses that appeared nothing like it had ten years ago. The two bedroom house had been leveled and a much larger and fancier (from what I could gather over the high wall) than ours had replaced the quaint and humble home.

Watched Gangs of Rio on YouTube. Considering the World Cup and the Olympics will be held in Rio in the next few years, I am wondering what the city and state officials are planning to organize to protect the multitudes of wealthy tourists from the drug gangs in the close outskirts of town. Vamos ver!

Ten people from 2.5 to 72 years old using two bathrooms and four bedrooms as well as the living room floor is …well, crowded to say the least. Nearly everyone pitches in, save Grandma and the kids, won’t mention the ONE who has yet to wash a cup or spoon… sweep the floor, throw laundry in the washer, hang clothes to dry, fold or put them away (trying to guess who’s panties are whose, which t-shirt belongs to which child is a challenge in and of itself,) pick up the house or yard, feed the dog or unload groceries, cook a meal or even heat up a side dish. Discouraging when she is far from a teen or aged person! And to think we have to wait another entire year for her to get coal in her stocking for Christmas. Drat.

Throw Mama From the Train

December 28, 2012

We are all dying. How does a family deal with illness, long-term extended diminishing health, caregiving financial strains and the concerns of day-to-day routine care of the elders?

Typical family members live a few miles to worlds apart. Rarely does the newborn to grandparents live in the same household until death parts them. Questions of who will provide for the disabled, the sick, mentally incapable and addicted arise as lives shift and alter with unanticipated challenging circumstances.

A surviving parent is leaving the country for an extended period of time, with much trepidation and fear of the unknown. Will she be able to manage the anticipated year sabbatical let alone the voyage is questionable. At whatever age appears the most risky, fears the unknown arrive at the most inopportune time. The seniors appear older and less comfortable with their diminishing capabilities. One door opens and several others close.

Not everyone is thrilled about the prospect of having the responsibility of the in-laws in their space for any length of time. Some become more than a bit patronizing while other family members are frustrated listening and watching the aggressive behavior escalate. Some are is loving and kind, attentive and accepting and others not so much. Issues of financial yoke turns people sour and resistant to welcoming conduct.

Who will be the main caregiver? Who is fortunate enough to have the grandchildren around the elders with their stories of experiences in their lives, brave, confrontational, joyous, treacherous, painful and out-of-control to learn from, laugh with and cry in remembrance? The burden of healthcare and daily concern takes its toll on everyone since the senior or handicapped are is incapable of doing much more than heating water and pouring it over coffee grounds thru a filter. The grandchildren screams and shouts for lack of better communication when faced with the possibility of losing a grandparent who have been a part of their young lives.

The overwhelming rigorous challenge of providing care for the elderly is not an easy issue. When the need arises to solicit outside help as the elders symptoms steadily worsened, what is a best plan? There are some who are totally unprepared to take control of the elders health issues but accepted this role nonetheless. Finally, how does one say goodbye?

Cookie Factory

December 27, 2012

Happy Birthday sister Regina!

Baking chewy oatmeal chocolate chip (had to cut up a boycotting Hershey’s milk chocolate bar) cookies. Theo claims Tia Paula makes the “best cookies on the island!” Told him that when I lived here, I used to bake and sell them each week in the little market and Taelor placed them in a basket to sell individually to the neighbors. She was a very successful vendor and it probably helped to have Lilly the Rottweiler as her if looks could kill protector. Without fail, Taelor came home with more money in her pocket than the determined marked prices.

All of the guests including the children arrive in a flurry of kisses of welcome on the cheek for everyone like long-lost relatives and a prolonged dry kiss goodbye upon departure. It’s very sweet.

Yet another bbq party! Roasted fresh potatoes and limp carrots for my contribution and   decided to take advantage of a relatively cooler day setting up side tables and chairs in the freshly swept carport. Steamy platters of meat arrive on the cluttered table as each piece finishes cooking. Forks pierce the fatty chunks of meat in the middle of the rectangular table, serving grandma her favorites and the children (who adore the chicken hearts) first.

Determined ruling shameless kids attend the food table with their new video games, difficult to see their meat munching faces behind the miniature screens. Ethan’s blanket drops constantly as well as his invariable pacifier companion. Dono gobbled meat and potatoes like there was no tomorrow. Poor thing frequently chokes on her food and usually disappears from the table with her wrinkled little hand over her puckered mouth. Today she stayed insisting on cookies and cake for dessert. She can eat me under the table though we have to cut her food into tiny pieces ‘cause she’s a woofer!

Grocery shopping! Home with scads of overfilled plastic bags of goodies. Little crispy hard to resist pao de queijo balls, Nestle’s (gulp) ice cream, dark beer, sugary pop, horrendously expensive cake in a box, mayo and tomato sauce in a triangle stand up bag, off brand potato chips, tortillas (didn’t have those when I lived here last) luxurious jarred mushrooms, paper towels (hard time explaining why it is a downer to buy these) tinned something or other, bottles of juice concentrate…that we mix with water and sugar. Oh, what to make for dinner at 10:00pm! Getting accustomed to the eating schedule yet still tend to still suffer when famished.   

Day at the beach

December 26, 2012

A day at the beach! Swam laps in and around the swimming area, performed my physical therapy exercises and played with various multicolored plastic sand toys with a Gulliver from Gilligan’s Island hat Ethan in the cool, crisp calm water of Ribeirao da Isla.

Not quite as beastly hot today as yesterday so we won’t be constantly sweating and swatting blood sucking devils in the night. Joao had a bee sting scare this morning. Appeared at the back door wide-eyed and gesturing wildly, mouthing albelha (bee) and the chaos ensued since he is allergic and throat airway closing rapidly. De ran desperately to find the specified remedy and injection and everyone scrambled for alcohol, cotton balls and several buckets of fresh water to douse over his sweaty head. Joe plunged his finger down Joao’s throat to open the airway to accept the medication. Shaky and thirsty, Joao recovered and less than an hour later we were at the sunny and empty beach.

Arrived home to find the full freezer door cracked so it was a scramble to empty and wipe everything down. Dono admitted to searching for her frozen sweet chocolate cookie layered cake and inadvertently left the door ajar. OOPS!

Taking advantage of the defrosted meat, the bbq pit was loaded with stomach churning blocks of dripping red meat, chicken hearts on skewers (kids favorite) and herbed cheese sticks popped for a late dinner. I made a light lettuce and onion salad and roasted squash for my plate. No one wanted to sample the sliced squash…oh good, more for me!

Anderson is here, a close friend of Theo’s. He is the old housecleaner’s son who grew up with Theo. Conceita, Anderson’s mother has three kids and left Denise’s service after four years when she accepted employment at a local restaurant as a chef’s helper. A new uncompassionate chef was hired a few years ago and wanted her to read off the recipe cards he had organized for his special dishes. Despite her consistent attendance and excellent preparation skills she lost her well paying job since she is illiterate. Conceita replaced that position with another, lower salary and no benefits.

Tomorrow Joao Enrique arrives to spend time with his dad, brother and Denise along with the rest of the crew. We have run out of water in the house several times. Tonight close family members had to shower together to conserve what little was left in the tank. Just can’t take for granted when you turn the handle water will eject from the faucet.

Natal no Brasil

Christmas Day 2012

Whew, feels like 120 degrees, according to the sweaty weather people. But what do they know…expected clouds and a more comfortable temperature. Ran the bomba (compressor) but the large public water tank did not fill up…great, have to conserve our water intake today and probably tomorrow too! May be drinking the swimming pool water-my reservation is the unidentifiable floaties I view in the direct sun and …I’d rather not go into details! Perhaps I can persuade the water delivery man to bring us a bottle though the street vendors have been quiet all day..

Last night Theo started complaining about how exhausted he was and insisted he open his gifts on Christmas Day. He howled and wailed until his parents relented. Uncle Joe brought his present consisting of a new Ipod upstairs to his locked room and …what do you know, he came racing down to throw his arms around his parents, kiss them and sat down to eat dinner with his new plethora of games in one hand, pastel made with linguisa and cheese dripping with ketchup in the other. Dono rattled off a prayer I didn’t catch and then each child blew out a candle to celebrate the birth of Jesus.

Gift wrap flew and everyone oohed and aahed over the multitude of toys, clothes, watches, shoes, socks, jewelry and books not to mention a new laptop, speaker systems and a neighing horse on a stick. Dono paraded around the room with each new item of clothing to model them for us. She was clearly enamored with each outfit, donning necklaces and shoes to match each combination. Ethan circled the room, galloping with a tippy cup of guarana (soda) in his little hand until after 1:20am. “Coka, coka” he cried!

Today’s Lunch consisted of leftovers from last night, I ate the black rice salad I made with star fruit, tomatoes, walnuts, apples, onions and a mustard honey dressing. Skipped the turkey despite the question “I thought you didn’t eat meat, this is turkey!” Hm. The dessert of pineapple and whipped cream with strips of fresh coconut (took me ages to pry it from its stubborn shell) was delightful.

Everyone is working at staying cool, sauntering from one room to the next and guzzling whatever we can get our hot hands on. Bikinis, congas and swim trunks are the Christmas attire.

Close my eyes and think about snow, sitting by a fire and Christmas in the Midwest. Know all of you are in my thoughts, all 34 in my family!

XMAS EVE

December 24, 2012

Today is the time for baking delectables, cooking turkey and side dishes, chasing the rambunctious NO! Nathan toddler (takes a village I hear) tracking down the hurried and impatient gas man, water delivery man whohas to wait in relative calm while we empty the remaining liquid from the jug in various pots and pans, pitchers and vessels to make way for a new bottle, creating the space outdoors under the carport for infamous endless meat slabs on the bbq for Christmas day, caring for the infirm elder, sick adults whose illness transferred by the children, searching for Santa’s progress on-line. Where is he now and how many presents has he delivered? Get out the colorful globe and spin it around to point a finger on the little dot somewhere in the world.

At midnight we will scatter the scads of gloriously wrapped presents amongst the kids and grandma mostly and then have dinner at 2:00amish. Hm, may very well be armless by that time or fast asleep with my head in the unrecognizable unpronounceable majority meat-based hors d'oeuvre platters.

Suspect several adults have raided the cookie jar since the level has dropped considerably. May have to make another batch for the kids in the next few days. They have been gobbling Advent Calendar Santas, Elves, White chocolate balls, Snowmen, etc so they are not deprived of sugar. Everything from yoghurt, cereal, Nescal (chocolate powder) plastic bottle juices to combine with water, sodas and packaged cookies contain enough sugar to supply the entire community.

Need to find a chocolate cake pudding on-line…Merry Christmas Eve gente!

Merry Merry Christmas

December 23, 2012

Large fluffy burnt orange most likely male cat got trapped inside the fence causing a scandal late last night. The adults we were all roused and Joao had to secure the dog to allow the cat to leap the fence. Gathered in the kitchen to recount the electrifying events and ended up talking well into the night about secret Christmas presents, favorite cultural dishes to make in the next few days, stimulating plans for the collection of kids and cracked a few beers while polishing off the rest of the economical waxy chocolate bars.

Chocolate cookies are a hit, had to hide the delicious batch from the greedy roving hands. Shameless!

Hope everyone got to where they are going without any disasters. Tomorrow Joao and I are attempting to make a fruit cake…no, not one everyone grimaces and hopes they can pass it along to another unlucky recipient. This fruit cake is fluffy, melt in your mouth, wrapped in wax paper like a giant cupcake and everyone sneaks into the tin to rip off another piece in the night…that kind of fruit cake!

Tame day in the hot sun. Started War and Peace by Tolstoy and hoping I don’t run out of books before I can find an American or Brit to borrow one.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL!

And a special message to my little peanut-though this is the first Christmas apart, I am certainly with you in spirit and heart. I love you and send a big hug from much too far away. I know our unique celebration of serving at a shelter with your Santa cap and heading to a movie before opening your whole host of presents will not be realized this year, we can make a plan to reenact our own X-MAS in March. Peace to you, sweet pea. I will be home before you know it!  

Kids Rule

December 22, 2012

Coca-Cola Company did a hideously fantastic job marketing in the developing country of Brasil. Soft drinks served at lunch and popular sweating red-banded plastic jugs stand tall in the middle of the table off and on during the day (distinctive fire engine red tops cracked at midnight as we divided massive chocolate bars between us) impressive advertising isn’t it?

As I write this, Joe (at 10:50 in the morning nonetheless) reaches into the recesses of the frig and pulls out..a familiar transparent bottle with a red and white lettered label!

Children surely rule the roost in the household. Theo, at nine, decides how (in)consistent each parent can be at mealtime. Chocolate milk with several teaspoons of organic sugar added or coke to escort a snack or meal, strips of snappish lettuce mixed with white clumped rice to hide the fact that there may be a vegetable on the plate, candy of any sort opened before or during the meal and pantry raids are not out of the question whenever the mood hits. Grandma makes up her own rules as well. As far as she and the kids are concerned the “restaurant” is always OPEN! The kitchen is a family zone and voraciously savored. Dishes pile up until someone gets motivated to wash and let them drip dry (of the four places I have stayed, only Cris had a dishwasher.)

Naps are also an encouraged and relished event. Children of an under-waist-high age and adults of no particular decade enjoy a bit of REM sleep. I am about to sit on one of the lumpy beds to read the last chapter of The Novel by James Michener and see if I can dose off for a bit. Many, too many nights of inconsistent mosquito-ridden evenings and I feel deprived, perhaps in empathy of Taelor’s mono symptoms.

I am finding myself grieving my daughter’s absence this holiday. We have never been apart this length of time, in all of her 19 ¾ years. When she confronted with great emotional or physical issues I undergo despair as well. Well aware that she is a capable and strong woman doesn’t take away from the fact that my princess is challenged. I want to be there to comfort her and bring her a plate of fresh chocolate chip cookies loaded with walnuts and love.

Secret Family Recipe

December 21, 2012

Multitude of startling red, creepy black, fluttery winged, hairy sticks, insistent spiked, bigger than life, pesky waddlers, fearless fly in your nose bugs join us in the house thru the propped windows due to the excessive rain. Persistent boys secure wii handles and Play Station games hours on end. Took a break from the gaming to splash ‘round in the pool late this afternoon in the scorching sun. While I avoided the dreaded blue and yellow noodles whipped past my head, had difficulty keeping count to fulfill my PT requirements as the boys plunge and sideswipe at one another.

Ethan’s parents speak in spattered English with their young son. He is picking up expressions in Portuguese to everyone’s delight. I did chi chi in the toilet! I correct the parents’ grammar and improve their vocabulary by speaking directly to Ethan. I suspect Ethan stares up at me with a confused look on his face since I have such a different English speaking accent than his parents. Initially he would instantly stop whatever he was doing and gape up at my moving mouth.

Making bread tonight and tomorrow I will slave away baking chocolate chip cookies. The years I lived here I turned out various breads, giant cookies of several flavors and biscuits to sell and improve my financial status. One enterprising friend, Vera, lived across the street and owned a merceria (small convenience store the size of a one car garage.)  She parked a huge pickle jar of cookies on the front counter with a colorful sign designed by Taelor that included the detailed ingredients and ample prices. A good friend, Fabio adored the chocolate chip cookies and became one of my best (and chubby) customers. I generously shared the detailed recipe with Denise. She made Fabio a batch for his birthday one year and he flatly refused to share one cookie. Not long after that, the recipe disappeared. The sole copy was in Denise’s mother’s diary that she packed to visit her son in Calgary back in 2006 and inadvertently left behind. On the long drive from the airport Denise insisted I had to make my famous chocolate chip cookies for Christmas. Hope I can live up to the legend!

Tonight this family suddenly deals with grief of grave test results from the clinic, we prepare for a difficult process ahead. In an instant, everything changes perspective. Fresh memories of challenges after a startling diagnosis arise and the tumultuous emotional ups and downs cloud the holiday spirit yet it is a great relief to be together as a community. 

Punch drunk parents

December 20, 2012

Ethan the two and a half year old terrible tempered strong willed Mohammed Ali lookalike is extracting one YouTube video after another on his Ipad. If only he could communicate directly with some precision I could gain much needed technical direction to upload programs onto my Ipod. If he didn’t run around on his tip toes naked from the waist down and every suspicious puddle of liquid on the floor turns out to be his urine, I would suspect he was a genius.

Last night was a fiesta of mosquitoes in my sleeping area. One of those nights when I don’t think I slept a wink. Drinking incredibly sweet soda and eating butter cookies while chatting in hushed voices with the other adults well into the wee hours of the morning may have had something to do with the restlessness. Passed around a margarita of sorts to accompany lunch today. Lights flashed off and on several times so everything electronic had to be shut down. Denise informed me more than a number of appliances have burned-out their motors so she was emphatic that I not wait on-line for notices of Taelor. She has been diagnosed with mono and a sinus infection, suffered from major dehydration and had to go to the hospital. Having to nap every few hours during the day is wiping her out. She sounds weary and needy. Wish I could be there to hold a cup of water to her lush lips and place a damp cloth on her widow-peaked forehead, rub her back and substantial head of hair.

Planning out the extensive holiday food menu for midnight Christmas dinner. As long as I have plenty of greens and desserts, I am satisfied!  

Weather reports declare tomorrow will be hit a ghastly 100 degrees. We may all dog pile into the above ground pool with cachacas in hand, the kids will just have to make do with chocolate milk or coke. Parents sprinkle sugar on Frosted Flakes, add it to chocolate milk mix, allow the children to eat cookies and chocolate upon waking and I have to swallow my immediate alarmed and perilous expression.

Red Light

December 19, 2012

Searching for a place to lay my head tonight and for the next few days. It is a painful reality. Vehement confirmed promises made several weeks ago and not upheld are certainly hard to swallow without choking on founded contempt. Appear in the mirror like the impoverished child with larger-than-life moon eyes who require daily food rations across the world. It is near Christmas after all!

Theo is madly crawling around on all fours across the tile floor to decipher a world from a toddler’s perspective, assured we have covered all the bases for the arrival of his two and a half year old cousin. Theo desperately craves the chance to pick up Uncle Joe, Aunt Gi and his new cousin, Giovani at the airport. With their three massive bags and a confident driver it is impossible in the pocket-sized car. Theo is begging for an improbable solution. He pouts, stomps, screams, insists and howls his irritation.

Police phoned to alert Joao the car was recovered, blocks away. Whee!

Taelor is fraught with ill health and fortunately completed her excessive final exams so she can sloth, relax and enjoy her ultimate favorite holidays with a slew of cousins, my siblings, their significant others as well as my father. It is difficult to be so far away from them especially when Taelor is in time of need.

House spic and span, professionally organized, decorated, beds freshly made up with the best matching sheets in the house, laundry basket emptied after four loads washed, champagne in the frig and snacks on the table. Dono is pacing the floor, blabbering to anyone who catches her skewed eye that her youngest grandson is on his way!  She can hardly stand the anticipation, has been long showered and dressed up in her spiffy overly long transparent-sleeved maroon blouse fronted with a startling paisley print,  and shiny milk chocolate stretch pants that hug her where a granny shouldn’t be hugged, fully made up and digital camera-ready for the memorable long-awaited event. There are gifts pinched in glittery wrap for both rambunctious boys.

Pending signals of lodging are predicted but one never knows…may end up on the flea-ridden floral lounger on the verandah! At least I can be on the alert for car nabbers.

Desperate people do desperate things

December 18, 2012

Last holiday season Theo’s Secret Santa never showed up for the third graders gift exchange. When the scoundrel came to school the next day, he handed Theo a note declaring his despair and intention to present Theo’s gift in the near future. Day after day, Theo waited for the anticipated present yet the boy failed to provide it even into the ensuing school year. A few weeks ago, the day came to choose names for Secret Santa…who did Theo chose to trade off but the sorry ass wrongdoer from last year! Theo announced he refused to bring the perpetrator a gift…would serve him right. He went so far as to decide he would give him his promissory note from last year wrapped as a gift! We convinced him to be the bigger person and raise above it, etc. He begrudgingly agreed with a scowl. Upon arrival from school today Theo declared the boy incompetent since he gave him a gift he already had! Oh well. Lesson learned, we can only hope.

The death trap Gol car was scandalously hotwired and stolen from the front gate in the middle of the night. In order to alert the police and report the vehicle pinched Joao has to come up with extraordinary back fines and exorbitant past due fees plus interest. The near abandoned car sported a faded for sale sign plastered in the filthy window. One suspicious neighbor had expressed interested in purchasing it but Joao didn’t jumped on it expediently. Now all Joao has to sell is the key! Drama ensued. The neighbor to the left heard the street dogs sound the alarm in the early hours even got out of bed and checked the sandy street but there was no sign of life. He wasn’t sure if the Gol was parked in front at the time. Observant.

Made the mad dash downtown to attend to Theo’s popular-sized footwear again this morning. I adore the center of the city with a maze hidden alleys and diminutive crammed to the brim stores of every imaginable wear. Nothing tempted me from the pitched brick streets since most of my attention was on the tile at my feet. I was afraid to spring forward into the firm cement walls. Wishing I had more time and a pain-free foot to explore downtown at my leisure.  

More documents needed for Dono to arrive into Calgary legally. She will reside there for a year so many of the medical records, medications and authorization documents need to be in order. Took several mug shots and we vigorously voted which proved to be the most flattering for her toothless passport photo. Dono spent the day alone in the house yesterday (72 years old) and was able to yank all of her chin hairs and clean up her eyebrow line. She was sooo proud of her accomplishments and asked everyone as they came in the door if they noticed anything different about her. Cute.

Spoke with her a long time about her life experiences. I know she needs a sympathetic ear. She cried like a baby in disillusionment. Everyone is challenged by the events of the season, big changes coming up in their lives and struggle with emotional backlash attacks our comfort zone. Tomorrow the crew arrives from Calgary via Sao Paulo. I forget what it’s like to have a toddler rule the house!

Floripa Folly

December 17, 2012

Diary of a Wimpy Kid translates into Diary of a Banana in Portuguese! Theo is reading the series and loves it!

Traipsed all around the southern part of the island of Floripa this afternoon. I was giddy to be revisiting my past from the backseat of a hot red car. Recognized some of the growing discombobulated regions from ten years ago. Shopping of any kind is not one of my favorite activities yet it meant more time with my fabulous and more than a bit frustrated friends who have far too much on their to do list. Several shoe stores, BIG market, videotographer, car mechanic (recognized Leo from ten years back, still robbing his clients blind!) coffee shop, bank, then home made my leg swell and throb.

Situated myself in a rigid narrow seat with my glorious leg up on the next stoop munching on palmetto pastels and drinking my favorite guarana soda waiting and soaking in the ambiance of BIG. It is similar to a low end Target with everything under the sun from noodles to float in the pool and have more fun than you dreamed possible without sucking in the body of water to cheese bread. A gangle of young boys strutted around a table with their skateboards and grungy long hair, hip dragging jeans and glean of mischief in their confident energy. Customers request paper thin plastic cups to divide a jug of soda. The plastic crinkles in protest. Not certain how long I ate away the hours but it was two shopping carts full for Denise and Joao at the check-out stand. We got to hop into the handicapped isle since I had my useful cane along. After eying the beverages and delicate stemmed glasses on the conveyor belt, I invited myself to the prior customer’s party, he left me his address…as if!

Sewed the vinyl sack that houses a cushion for the wee one who arrives on Wednesday night. He is 2.5, an adopted nephew/cousin/grandson that no one has ever met in person. Gi and Joe are in Sao Paulo with her mother who recently had a second surgery to remove an ill-fated cancerous lump. Due to the current circumstance, she is unable to attend the Christmas festivities here so I have the opportunity to stay in the rental she would have inhabited. Now I have a place to stay until the 29^th of December. A gift due to another person’s tragedy. I feel blessed.

Dogs bark around the neighborhood. Tomorrow I give Pipo a flea buster bath and draw up a plan for a worm bin. Perhaps start a garden!

Sisterhood

December 16, 2012

I journaled religiously ten years ago. Upon leaving the country I packed everything to mail at later date (when my back pay arrived.) Instead of mailing my goods, curiosity must have gotten the best of Sophy, my then best friend. She proceeded to go through everything I owned, discovered my journals, promptly read through each and every one, page by page. All of my thoughts, actions, dreams, feelings and personal relationships experiences were in those notebooks. She indiscriminately distributed them to our mutual friends who understand English and translated the details to those non-English speakers willing to pay attention to the story. Denise was one who refused to listen to my invaded intimate life and consequently suffered greatly. She was ostracized from our community of friends, nearly displaced from her relationship with her son’s father and shunned from prospective work to the extent that she ended up homeless for a time with her three year old son. That is how much control Sophy had over this fairly large group of comrades. She is wealthy and well-known in this small city, a Brit who buys from a lot of the local vendors that cannot afford to make an enemy of her. It is a very political social network. In the meantime, I had notification that the journals would be burned at my request. To this day, I don’t know if that in fact occurred. They could very well still be in circulation.  Keep your eyes peeled for them!

Firstly, I have no recollection what those journals included. I do recall working night and day for a time on decorative products I completed while employed by Denise. Beautiful and creative baskets of all sizes to sell to a retail chain. Per usual, the laborer makes the most meager sum while the retailer profits the most. Needless to say, the designer’s takings are insufficient as well. I did note these complaints though the project did in fact support my skimpy lifestyle. Secondly, I am humbled, stunned and forever appreciative of Denise’s dogged loyalty and steadfast continued friendship. Astounded that she didn’t ever waiver from her trust in me and resistance to the gossip and ugly unwarranted subsequent fiasco that became her life as a consequence. Allegiance is so under-rated.

Boys are in the above ground pool, efficient women cooking in the kitchen (well, I am watching, supervising really and drinking wine) and catching up on the novellas of our lives in the last ten years! So much has happened, besides the journal crisis, friends died of drug overdose, others disappeared without a trace. I still have a handful of friends around that I need to track down one way or the other. Staying in my old neighborhood for a few days that I hardly recognize though the corner grocery store we frequented is still in business and just as lame as it was back then. Did find everything I need to make my famous fettuccini and muffins. They are requesting my famous giant cookies I used to make. Mrs. Fields recipes were very popular and sold like crazy! The poor vendor ate many of them as well while perched on her chair waiting for her customers. Her personal invoice was always the highest. Poor fat Vera!  

Atta Girl!

December 15, 2012

Chegei na casa de Denise e Joas e Theo e Dono…!

Left Cris’ apartment this morning at 10:30, arriving at the Bus Station (Barra Funda) station at 11:30…didn’t quite turn out that way. The baggage guy who couldn’t be bothered to get out of his lounger chair double-checked his clipboard, nope, the bus leaves at 1:00pm and won’t get to the airport on time for your 2:00pm flight. The chubby lazy yellow shirted pot bellied man insisted the only solution was to drive to the bus station on the far north side to catch transport near the airport then a short taxi ride would take me the rest of the way. Great. We sped off, getting lost several times, turned around more than a few times and arrived at Tiete. Flagged down a brilliant yellow-shirted guy (they are all Federal workers) who charged me R$10 to haul off my bags and rattled off directives while handing me a wrinkled dingy yellowish receipt after telling him I was going to Campinas. Skirted down the hallway, asking several people where I could buy a ticket to Campinas. Down on the end, the red sign, next to us, the second one down…everyone tells me something different..finally figure out which bus company will drop me at Campinas airport. Realize the baggage guy thinks I am going to the BUS station in Campinas so I race as fast as I can down the passage to Platform 1 to show my receipt and explain the change in vendors. Run to the bathroom then onto Platform 28 where I am relieved to finally see my bags again, give the guy a significant tip and hop on. Since the sign on the front of the bus flashes another route, I confirm the destination. The driver snickered when I asked him if we would arrive at the airport in an hour…no missy, more like an hour and twenty minutes! Already knew then I would miss my plane. Had to just try to relax and accept the fact that I would probably be sleeping in the airport. Crap!

A guy jumped on the bus to make a loud and vigorous announcement about his delicious chocolates. He hands each passive passenger a sample and then jumps around in the aisle to accommodate all of the buyers. I can see thru the flimsy curtain, watching the salesman divide his take with the driver. Didn’t seem to me he made out very well.

I am the sole airport drop-off. As the bus pulls away, I struggle with my huge red bag, throwing questions over my shoulder to the passerbyers (is that a word?) as to which door leads to the Azul check-in. A curtain thin flight attendant zealously strutted in front of me, grabbed the handle of my backbreaking bag and pulled it along thru the double doors and insisted one of the reps help me. I sighed to her in enormous relief and expressed my thanks. Of course, the flight is already closed since I was abandoned with only ten minutes before it is scheduled to leave. I calmly explain what happened and the attendant shuffles me off in a wheelchair nonetheless to stand in line at the loja where I can supposedly plead my case and get the ticket changed.

Too many people in line working in their challenges with the reps are vehemently complaining about the cost of the adjustment to their schedules. Loudly! I didn’t even consider another alternative, simply waited and watched. Before I knew it, I was wheeled into the front of another line to get my receipt. No questions asked at the security check. Got help on and off the bus, up and down the stairs to the airplane and escorted to the baggage claim. What service!

So, I cannot believe after ten years, I am in my old stomping grounds in Florianopolis. My friends are incredulous as well. We just keep shaking our heads, exclaiming the miracle of it. Lots of stories to catch up on so I don’t have time to create a more in-depth blog.

As my friend Annie claims, I hate guns!

December 14, 2012

Yasmin is yelling at her friend, Nina thru the door of the bathroom off the diningroom “What are you doing?””Going to the bathroom””Why are you taking soooo long?” “I am pooping” “NOOO! You can’t poop in THAT bathroom, stop, come out, what are you doing?”…Who knew one couldn’t poop in the hallway bathroom? Oops!

Drove in the bucketing rain to a nearby Church Bizarre to find a pair of shorts for the beach this afternoon. Heard of the disastrous CT shootings on the radio news. Incredulous. We all sat in stunned silence. Difficult to explain events of our culture and the severe lack of gun control, in spite of the numerous similar killings, to the Brasilians accompanying me to the church sale. I entered the beautiful serene sacred space in the rectory to consider the families and friends who mourn their tremendous loss and the children and staff that suffered such great heartache and terror. Sending waves of sympathy across the waters.

This experience of mourning is far more important than my not being able to explain to one of my teen students on Facebook tonight that I do not have a real home to go to, that I do not have a job with a steady paycheck, no dresser full of all season clothes, no pristine bathroom with a cozy “Home Sweet Home” bath towel hanging on the rack behind the door, no Cheerios box half full of “O’s” decaying in the kitchen cupboard, no forwarding address to send my erratic pieces of mail when I leave the country. Home, I discovered ages ago, is truly where I am in that moment. Home is being with close friends to discuss the fragility of life and how much we love one another and share in the grief of others.

Splashing Around

December 13, 2012

Wanda, the baba, didn’t quite understand the Just Add Water boyfriend on a cardboard backing that I included in her Christmas bag. Even after some explanation commenting that my other friends loved him and thought him hilarious, she still didn’t grasp the significance. Oh well, maybe she can pass it along in a White Elephant gift exchange. Brasilians are not accustomed to consignment let alone the idea of re-gifting. Now to explain the White Elephant custom!

English class discussion included the difference between resolve and solve. I don’t think I understood my explanation so, there you go!

Splashed around in the sun drenched refreshing pool stretching and pulling the atrophied leg behind, on my own until four rambunctious teens joined me. Read my suspense novel alongside the water in a blue and white checkered lounge chair versus dodging their bobbing bodies. That lasted all of about 35 minutes when my backpack bag with my clothes and sunscreen got sufficiently drenched and the engorged foot was nearly smashed by the volleyball. Called it an afternoon just in time before the thunder and torrential rain began to fall.

Slurping Kiwi juice sans sugar and feel satisfied after my scrumptious fettuccini (had to substitute with powdered milk and margarine) and wilted spinach salad dinner. Both were a hit with the kids who really wanted cookies for their evening meal yet I convinced them this was far better…the “for them” part I strategically left out of the earnest suggestion.

Nearly prepared for the journey to Florianopolis on Saturday morning. Cris will taxi me to the close enough bus station and I catch a short flight in a nearby city. My wonderful and long-time friend, Denise will pick me up at the Floripa airport. Can check one 50 pound bag and carry on one ten pounder. Now if only I can figure out how to transfer all of that with my wooden cane in hand. None of my sandals fit over my fat foot so that is another issue to resolve…or solve!

Cat Fight

December 12, 2012

Anyplace I don’t want to be is my hellacious self-inflicted prison. Ubiquitous contentment spreads like wildfire in the presence of children laced with every imaginable disability at ADD Hospital this morning. Wandered the maze of white chipped swarming halls from one facility to the next to find my simple wooden and much anticipated cane! Wheel chairs, braces, straps, gurneys, floaties for the pool, swinging, strutting, swaying, sashaying, pulling, pushing, holding hands and the best yet, nearly all of the whole special needs kids broadcasted colossal smiles and gripped a box of chocotonne (popular fluffy yellow cake spattered with bits of chocolate) donated by a generous sponsoring company. Surrounded by the energy of the drifting faces, families and a awe-inspiring staff of volunteers the itch that can’t be scratched anxiety of my insistence I don’t want to be “here,” with a bad foot, incapable of sorting out …well, everything, dissipates! Giving of myself and expecting nothing in return wipes out all else. Any thoughts or words white out the experience of actually being there with all of them. Consequently I just be. Humbling.

Sped off to the Clube with Cristina to have an extended non-descript open cafeteria-style  lunch with her kids after they propelled from the heated indoor pool. Salmon sushi for the 3.5 and 6 year olds, salad for me and various dishes for Cris. A heated discussion between two of the close friends at the table was a bit muddled but I believe they were arguing about their parenting philosophies. Elena looks to be around 35 dressed in perky pink shorts, matching top and running shoes has a striking 4 year old son and cute curly-haired three year old twin boy and girl. The other, Renata, in her 40’s looked sharp in chic white designer glasses, sleek gray top and bermuda shorts with stylish red sandals has one sassy daughter who is 6. Remarkable forceful prickly argument fired up between two women. Elena got so upset she stormed off for a smoke. It made me consider N Americans and the fact that I hardly ever experience an open argument in a public place where the participants are very well-known, especially women in the upper echelon of society. Of course there are the bar battles, cat fights, punching and scratching I hear about, between those that that are not so well-mannered…Women do not fight because it is considered impolite and unrefined to raise your voice besides the fact that women tend to get their feelings hurt, I explain to Cris as we walk out of the turnstile to the car. The two women eventually dropped the hair-raising discussion and moved onto other things though I am not convinced they will easily forget the inflexible and willful disagreement.

Beasts of burden

December 11, 2012

Guiliana’s birthday..wahoo!

Crutching along with my preoccupied heart on my sleeve, chic burnt orange wallet-sized purse strapped crosswise along my body as I made my preoccupied way to the muddled physical therapist’s office. Once there, I slanted my burdensome crutches to the side of the unsteady plastic deck chair and stood far lighter than just the moment before. Discovered the weight I was carrying under my armpits was transferred to my heart. I become conscious of concern, worry about my unarguably swollen foot and seemingly lack of rapid healing progress in accomplishing a normal gait proved heavy on my mind. As the questions and responses batted back and forth with the physical therapist my apparent relief made me giddy. I knew what I felt to be true was, yet took on the concern of others as my own. It is so subtle and sneaky, undetected and controlling, manipulative and sly.

What else disturbs my laughter? Taelor and all that disquiet entails, upcoming temporary (!) nesting locale, prospective work, ample finances, locate pragmatic vipassana centers  and secure travel plans.

Each of these challenges show up like the hated crutches. Issues I weigh upon yet have absolutely no control over at this moment and clearly prevent me from enjoying the warm brilliant sunshine of the day, the screeches of the kids in the fun-filled pool below, the sip of rich coffee with creamy milk and granules of sweet sugar, sincere disjointed conversation with Ju, soothing flow of familiar words on an intriguing paperback. Time to toss them all with abandon and saunter freely on my own fruition. I don’t want or need any of these intense and perhaps insignificant qualms on my journey. Taelor has the courage and umpteen skills to manage her own life.

Grannies shared the waiting room with me made up as though they were attending a fancy dress party. Glittery floral flowing tops with matching stretch pants, big hair and sensible shoes at the other end. Thrashing about on the massage tables with well-cooked under arms flapping and plastered smiles despite the burning pain and whisper “Tchau” as they scooted out the door. Obvious sprained ankles, broken arms, stiff shoulders, recent operated knees, hobbling and secured limbs solicit gratitude. I wait patiently much lighter, reading Vega Magazine and observe the pt going on around me. One largish room packed with various apparatus and stretching equipment house numerous patients at once. Everyone seems to know most of their routine and pay as they leave after setting up the next session with the receptionist/cashier/physical therapist/masseur. I take note of the ankle injured clients and glom new exercises from their routine. Opportunist to be sure!

After much research I conclude the fabulous airline deal is …well, not sooo amazing after all. Need to catch two buses to get to the isolated airport for the not-so-familiar airlines. Considering the bus line would be an eleven hour trip and about $90 less, it is worth the time and hassle for the flight. Now how to haul the luggage on crutches or a preferred cane…hm. The Plan “D” is to leave on Saturday…unless…  

Ballerina Ball

December 10, 2012

A popcorn and cotton candy machine parked in the deep recesses of the auditorium drew more favored attention than the ballerinas on stage at the Clube. It’s a crime the babbling well-paid instructor didn’t change up the routines for any of the thirteen five minute class performances with the little darlings strutting across the stage, shadowing her exaggerated lead from the front corner of the platform. The buzz in the room drowned out the Men From Glad with hair nets doling out snack-sized white paper bags of heavily salted corn and twirled wooden sticks around to gather the sticky white fluffy streams of sugar. Parents were anxiously comparing the extraordinary costly one-nighter costumes and frenzy of preparation, ridiculous cost of the ballet classes. After Yasmin’s repetitive piece we headed to the bar for a few beers while the audience munched and aahhed on occasion over some little cherub who crossed her arms and refused to participate in the middle of the wide stage.

Dinner at a restaurant after the extravaganza with two best friend couples and two limp sleeping children was eventful. I won’t bore you with the details of the conversation. Munching, ordering more food, drinking, talking about this and that and ordering more food and such. The place was jammed at 9:30pm on a Sunday! Raw Kibe was the most popular dish at the table though I just stared at it in sympathy and ate my tabouli (that doesn’t look right but is as close as I am getting tonight in a pinch) salad.

Permitted to release the complaining disgruntled kids from their chamber tonight to hang out in their parents familiar room lounging on the hotel white spongy bed with the tv on since I am the babysitter who isn’t their mom, baba, nor the stranger down the street and is “in charge” for the night. Sure.

My ankle is swollen from standing too long, wrapping umpteen gifts for everyone under the sun on Cris’ list. Luckily we had enough tape to go ‘round the world and back and scads of quick-to-get-tired-of-the-hazy-scene Christmas wrap. Hope I kept the little name tags straight or someone will get the skimpy girls panties switched with a triple G “Happy New Year!” in slender silver t-shirt…guess it could be worse!

All the hired babas were gabbering down in the courtyard adjacent to the pool with their entourage of responsibilities. I feel like Norm from Cheers as they greet me from the stiff white benches as the toddlers waddle, trike, scoot and swing. Certainly not one of the parental units but not one of them… I finally was able to practice my physical therapy in the shade of the apartments in the cool pool amongst unrecognizable things swirling around me. Lots of activity in the pool this afternoon since it was well over 90 degrees.

Lots of shouting and laughing and splashing and obviously sloughing…ich!

Onto Plan C or D for the holidays. Looks like I may be flying out this Wednesday for Florianopolis. Good thing MY presents are all labeled, wrapped and ready to go! Will keep you all in the loop. Found a flight on GOL and will most likely be rolling a few bags along to the bus stop and heading onto the Peninsula from there.

New Address

Dec 9, 2012

For those of you who intended on sending a note or box...I am leaving Sao Paulo before the 23rd so you will have to send it to the following address from today on:

c/o Denise Conceicao Periera

Easement Guanimbé, 111

CEP 88048-385

Campeche - Florianopolis - SC

Brasil

Thanks for the support and letters!

Love and light,

Paula

Liar, liar pants on fire!

December 9, 2012

Three’s a crowd! Someone is always left out. One vehemently controls the channel changer, another is obsessively playing a violent war game on the extended volume Ipad, a third steals the coveted made in China plastic toy…parental units are attempting to catch up from their stayed up too late every night organizing and got up at the crack of dawn to get the kids ready for school each weekday morning sleep deprived state…sure! I am not on the same level as the baba so my requests are completely ignored. Perhaps it is because they don’t have a clue what I am saying…I’m guessing selective hearing.

A liar, a brat, an idiot, a baby, cheater, not my best friend anymore you are not invited to my house again my mom says you are poor you don’t know what you are talking about I’m not hungry I am waiting until my mom gets up I forgot my promise how could you forget from two minutes ago wait until my dad hears what you did I hate you Patricia is my best friend now you can’t use my toothbrush this is a stupid show why are you talking to me I told you I don’t want to talk to you anymore lalalalalala! Oh boy!

Unusually overcast and a dark threat of torrential rain. Everyone is worried about seasonal beach plans. The majority of Brasilians are biding their time until the long-awaited two luxurious months of summer vacation. Employees typically get between two weeks to one month of paid vacation plus a bonus of 30% of their salary per year. As in North America, the multitude of festivities begin at the start of December and private and public schools close for the summer around the same time and open again in early February. Shopping malls preposterously extend their hours until midnight.

Reminiscent of my first job at the Westgate Mall-I was a gift wrapping elf, posted in the small window at the side of the store swathing jewels in shiny paper with ribbon and bows for Dunkin Jewelers. Forced to wear a ridiculous elf hat and plaster a smile on my face as boxes piled up around my suffocating space. The bulk of presents I passed along that Christmas were from said store since I got a substantial discount. Sang the theme song each time I passed out a gift to my family member. I can sing it for you if you wish! Still recall the jingle. Don’t ask me where the hat went!