Struck by Grace

February 28, 2013

I could not have said it better than this…why reinvent the wheel?

Do you know what it means to be struck by Grace?

…We cannot transform our lives, unless we allow them to be transformed by that stroke of grace. It happens or it doesn’t. And certainly it does not happen if we try to force it upon ourselves, just as it shall not happen so long as we think, in our self-complacency, that we have no need of it. Graces strikes us when we are in great pain and restlessness. It strikes us when we walk through the dark valley of a meaningless and empty life. It strikes us when we feel that our separation is deeper than usual, because we have violated another life, a life which we loved, or from which we were estranged. It strikes us when our disgust for our own being, our indifference, our weakness, our hostility, and our lack of direction and composure become intolerable to us. It strikes us when, year after year, the longing-for perfection of life does not appear, when the old compulsions reign within us as they have for decades, when despair destroys all joy and courage.

Sometimes at that moment as a wave of light breaks into our darkness, and it is as though a voice were saying, “You are accepted. You are accepted, accepted by that which is greater than you, and the name of which you do not know. Do not ask for the name now; perhaps you will find it later. Do not try to do anything now; perhaps later you will do much. Do not seek for anything, do not perform anything; do not intend anything. Simply accept the fact that you are accepted!” If that happens to us, we experience grace. After such an experience we may not be better people than before, and we may not believe more than before. But everything is transformed. In that moment, grace conquers sin, and reconciliation bridges the gulf of estrangement. And nothing is demanded of this experience, no religion or moral or intellectual presupposition, nothing but acceptance.

It is such moments that make us love our life, that make us accept ourselves. Not in our goodness and self complacency, but in the uncertainty of the external meaning of our life. We cannot force ourselves to accept ourselves. We cannot compel anyone to accept him/herself. But sometimes it happens that we receive the power to say “yes” to ourselves, that peace enters into us and makes us whole, that self-hate and self-contempt disappears, and that our self is reunited with itself. Then we can say that grace has come upon us.

Paul Tillich

The Shaking of the Foundation

Aha!

February 27, 2013

Anthropologists believe people have to immerse themselves in another world in order to understand their own. The following are things that I have discovered about myself since being in South America again:

• I have far more patience than I ever imagined-for the ability to step off the verandah with a wobbly foot as well as allowing myself to sit without suffering for 45 minutes without my thoughts crazily spinning out.
• My true friends are those whom support me in my very unpredictably worst times and celebrate my best experiences.
• I can be an active, compassionate observer which projects “me” without words.
• My greatest gift is my Self.
• I honor and celebrate Taelor for her strength.
• It is important to be close in proximity to Taelor, my friends and family to be a personal presence in their lives.
• I still don’t fully know who I am and what I am capable of yet I comprehend me better than ever before and have more clarity about who I am not.
• Reading spiritual-based books and daily meditation helps me sort myself out.
• I am at my strongest and most vulnerable without my native language.
• Being out in nature is one of the most joyful things I have ever experienced.

Who I am today is not the person who boarded the plane in Minneapolis on October 4, 2012 bound for Sao Paulo. I don’t pretend to know who you are either so let’s allow the transformation to emerge and intertwine in our interactions.

Neighboring fences

February 26, 2013

As Guay put it, “Good fences make good neighbors.” As a matter of fact the thin cattle wire, chicken mesh, wrought iron posts, concrete walls and wooden slats make it exceedingly difficult to communicate with the community members. The savage dogs that wag their tales while incensed barking create an impossible barrier to the inhabitants within said fence. I walk the undulated sandy streets of the bairro, greeting the infuriated dogs as we pass by, petting the horses and cooing at the white rabbit chomping on grass behind its criss cross slats. One bare piece of land houses nesting small white and tan owls who burrow into the dirt. Several partitioned-off areas breach houses where grasses are calf high and native plants take over the terrain. Some of those parcels include a guard dog or two, shelter which may mean an actual dog house, lean-to or tarp to protect the beast that defends the land. Most likely a bitch since the female dogs are known for their better security behavior.

I saunter past large homes that appear to house an entire troupe of Vontraps to eight- plexes linked together each with their own individual pad of lawn sporting the proverbial vicious dogs. Garbage bags hang from the fences, set in a separate unit near the curb or collected in a box which is incorporated into the wrought iron. The trash is mostly intact yet often escapes the square and undulates down to litter the street with unsightly food stuff and indistinguishable wrappings. The dogs who manage to get out of jail rip thru the thin plastic to gobble the remains and sometimes inhaling the sack itself. Like goats they nibble thru tins, thick milk bags and slurp up bread ends.

Dangerous to park cars outside of the safety net of the good neighbor fence. Smashed back windows with glass scattered in a circle around the vehicle hug the side of the street the following morning.

Cable dishes precariously straddle the side or top of the houses. Two significant companies battle for territory in the large area. Bundling is popular since house phones and internet services have become dominant factors in middle class families.

A smattering of small business appear thru the neighborhoods here and there. A surf board repair shop, second-hand clothing and other gently used items in the front room a street or two down the road, full service restaurant, hair salon and waxing, locksmith and tailor provide practical services.  

The immediate neighbor to the left has an avocado tree which we can take advantage of since no one is currently living in the house! Climbing over the fence to rescue the fruit makes me a good neighbor.

Well, well

February 25, 2013

Just under 99 degrees in the shade today feels like one thousand, give or take. Out of drinking water again which makes it difficult to stay hydrated. Clean drinking water is not self-evident for everyone. Whereas Seattle drinking water is monitored two to three times daily, bottled water is checked two to three times per month in comparison. I could not locate a reliable source for water testing statistics in Brasil. In my search, I discovered Pepsi was forced to admit their Aquafina water is just improved tap water. I think about all of the tourists who insist on drinking out of single-use plastic water bottles with a straw that is presented encased in plastic nonetheless! In Latin America it takes three to five times more water to make the plastic liter bottles than the amount of water in the bottle. Bottled water is a privilege of those better off and, like gated communities, separates the privileged from the “dirty people.”  There are no wells on the island, they have been prohibited for quite some time.

I glance suspiciously at the 12 liter water bottle delivered via motorcycle by the cute son of the family-owned company located a good distance away. He hesitates to commit to any details of their private business. I tease him that I will get out the pool tester to check the drinkability of their water. Rafael is certain the company they purchase the water in- question from, to then resell, is legit. Whatever that means!

Thunder storm halted all technological activity in the house this afternoon. Yanked all plugs from their sockets; tv’s to computers to refrigerator and clothes washer for fear of burning up the appliances. It has occurred more than once and everything is so costly to replace. Not uncommon to peek in a garage or back yard to see an extra stove or refrigerator placating off to the side. Just as expensive to repair the items as purchase something new especially given you can make ten reasonable monthly payments. Also common to post-date checks for just about any service from car repair to dental work, pet stores, bakeries and even some grocery stores. The little corner markets can hardly afford not to accept such fragile requests. Creates a Catch 22.   

I, on the other hand am back to trading pebbles for things I collect to bring back to the States. Bartering for services is a thrill. Dealing with the colorful monopoly money of Brasil makes it feel more like a game than the serious transactions of credit and debit cards. It has been so freeing not to have plastic cards in my wallet nor juggle a cell phone or car keys. I leave the house with a CPF identity card and copy of my passport, several bills and a coin purse. At home, Taelor swears I can live out of my purse for two weeks time. When I ask her to go in my bag to find something, she sighs in resignation claiming it is difficult to track anything down in the great abyss.  

Beach sans bikini

February 24, 2013

Praia Galheta (beach) brags clothes optional. Galheta is a more breathtaking beautiful and remote location than Praia Mole and just beyond the latter’s limits crossing large boulders and a sandy narrow path. The nudie beach also sports a fresh water bamboo pipe that refreshes the bathers after a dip in the salty sea. A small snack bar grazes the end point where one can purchase freezing beer, chilly sodas, cold water and increases-your-cotton-mouth salt-based chips. A wonderful afternoon traversing through the crowds of cheerful umbrellas, long surfboards, sweat-drenched bodies and a sand sculptured dolphin at Mole. Too bad I didn’t bring my camera nor did anyone else in the group. In actuality not many beach lovers choose to strip and sun bathe, including our troupe.

Navigate dental floss sized bikinis and skimpy mens briefs that lie atop brilliant sarongs. Nearly everyone seeks the shade of a large beach umbrella. The few little snack shacks rent out the sun blockers and lounger chairs so the tourists don’t have to drag everything they can think of to make their day pleasant at the beach.

The surf is perilous and there are many red warning flags on poles at the edge of the churning water. The numerous lifeguards wearing blood red and yellow garb are scattered across the stretch of sand, atop towers and a set scoots thru the roaring waves on a gigantic and powerful Waverunner. Several people were carried out in the forceful surf and had to be towed in. We only heard of the alarming incidences via the gossipy patrons of the bar. Music blares across the drifting sand and couples don paddles to hit a rubber ball back and forth in the shallow water. The parking lots on the water side are packed-in and traffic bumper-to-bumper in the blazing sun. License plates stamped from all over the southern part of the state line up along the perimeter of one beach after another on the slow drive home.

Strong winds blew fine sand in my hair, skin is gritty with salt water and eyes bleary from the sun and long day at the beach. It is the only night of the week our novella fails to appear on television so we have to settle for a movie on cable.    

Alter Ugliness

February 23, 2013

A Brasilian researcher found that banana peels can take water dirtied by heavy metals and turn it to clean drinking water. The peels contain nitrogen, sulfur and organic compounds such a carboxylic acids, which can bind with positively charged metals that leach into rivers from mining and industrial operations. He found the peels performed as well or better than many typical filtering materials, such as silica or carbon, and could be used up to 11 times before they stopped working as purifiers-though they can’t filter out bacteria. (NPR.org)

We created an organic pile mixture of chicken manure, leaves, ashes and layered each with a rake. The mound is simmering and biodegrading as I type this. Marcello adds fallen leaves, trimmed vines, grass clippings, and food scrapes. It is a joy to see the excitement of the neighbors as they peer through the fence to check on the diminishing pile and deliver obscure recycled grocery sacks of their own “trash” to add to the collection. A few of the children bed to stir the sizable heated knoll. Occasionally the cats of the house run across the mountain with interest so I suspect there are rats hovering around the perimeter expecting something yummy to leap off.

Paper bags are not an option at the grocery stores. Infrequently I observe someone arriving with cloth bags for their goods. The farmers markets seem to have a more socially responsible crowd yet many depart with scads of distinguishable green plastic bags pinching their fingers. I sink with regret when we forget to snatch the stack of cloth bags from the house. It is discouraged to leave anything in the car for fear of a thief spotting a package and assuming it has value. Stashing something under the seats attracts burrowing insects. Sigh.

Living in a red (opposite of green?) world is unbecoming. I am far less frustrated and full of suggestions than I was upon arrival. Resignation? Perhaps. More like acceptance or allowance. I do my small part and educate when appropriate.

Regrettably heard many Ugly American stories at the party last night. It was Girls Night Out at a local recycled fabric lingerie shop with lively music and fast flowing wine. The more alcohol consumed, the more clear the message-North Americans make up an egotistic and far from self-effacing society. I hang my head in unhappiness with my own culture and the numerous truth-be-told experiences most of the women have had with fellow Americans. So I commit to understanding my own blind spots and seek compassion where I might not have seen it before. Nothing to defend. Nothing to do but allow my miniscule voice and the experience of being with me perhaps alter their perception for just those few moments we are together.

track travelers

February 22, 2013

Couchsurfing rocks! Looking for a sofa to sleep on in several neighborhoods in Sao Paulo. I have hosted people in the past thru Couchsurfing.com and have had good experiences all around. This is the first time I am searching to stay with a member (woman or couple) on this site. I do not have reservations yet most people I share the idea with shudder in ….fear, trepidation, worry, horror… It is an international social networking membership to host or seek a place to park for a few days at a time. There is no charge and yet it is respectful to offer something in return for a pillow, blanket and pad. They also offer social meetings and gatherings for travelers who are seeking companionship for touring, surfing, conversing over a beer or coffee.

Travelers have a unique outlook on life. An opportunity to visit other cultures and gain insight and awareness of self is a big slice of the pie. I will go to the Couchsurfers gathering on the 28^th of this month to meet up with the crew from Floripa. One guy from France, another from Greece, a woman from Argentina and several Brasilians who adore traveling and meeting foreigners. Never know where my next path will take me so you had better be prepared!

Imagine chocolate

February 21, 2013

A study by Carnegie Mellon University researchers shows that when we imagine eating a certain food, it may reduce our actual consumption of it. Researchers found that people who were asked to imagine eating the most M&Ms actually ate significantly fewer than participants who were asked to imagine eating less or none at all. (Carnegie Mellon University Science)

A pair of snug shorts and reasonably demure bikini top make up my typical attire. It is once again over 100 degrees here and while I imagine scarfing a lot of M&Ms, in reality drinking over eight tall cool glasses of water daily. Since M&Ms are not available here let alone in large quantities I am grateful to be made aware of the above study. If I close my eyes it is relatively easy to recreate the rich brown, cheery red, brilliant yellow and not-so-subtle blue of the smooth round shells covering a thin layer of chocolate and crunchy peanut.

With soft bread and creamy cheeses as a big part of our diet for both breakfast and dinner I’ve “found” the majority of the weight I lost while in the hospital and recovering at the farm in Registro. “Diet” is not in my vocabulary and fresh salads fixings are not always a priority in this house so I focus on fruits and more water to absorb the bread and cheese. A wide selection of low caloric foods are not so popular in this country and I have never been a fan of them anyway. More often than not, when I experimented with diet items in the past, I suspected the packaging would be tastier than the food product itself. Rumor has it that the diet foods are better than they used to be…where have I heard that before?

Ditching most of my clothing I packed from the States to make room for the gifts I bought for family and friends as well as a few items to sell. Lightweight fabrics and minimal coverage make the humid air bearable. Even cotton shirts become heavy and an unwelcomed burden over my sweaty shoulders. Panties is washed in the shower daily and hung out on the line to dry overnight so they too are getting pretty ragged and will have to be tossed. Flip flops are the most comfortable footwear, more practical than leather sandals on the sandy streets. My hair is always tied up and around my head like Princess Leia though not quite as elaborate nor fashionable, can’t reach behind me to perfect the braid! Oh where are those stand-ins when you need one?

Hot and sticky so I will have to imagine myself submerging in the little pool out back, out of the line of fire of the construction workers a few feet away!

Chips ahoy!

February 20, 2013

Food shopping is not as easy as it appears on the commercials. Try finding baking soda when the words bicarbonato de sódio don’t roll easily across the tongue. A special flour and cheese needed for pão de queijo for tonight’s dinner. Takes me three times as long as I expect to scour the entire aisle of flour before I light on the right package. Then I need to send out the posse to find my friends in the massive grocery store.

Now, where on earth would the mustache removal and shaving product be? There are razors (outrageously priced and out of my budget I’m afraid) so onto the other options of unwanted hair elimination. Heat then roll on wax (I am assuming here, based on the pictures on the packaging) and sheets of cut paper to apply, wait for a few minutes then rip off! The plastic bag directions claim “gently tear” but I have heard the screaming from the closed doors in the dipilacao rooms at the salon and know better! Gels, lotions and creams line up like pretty soldiers next to the waxes for soothing the pink and tortured freshly plucked skin? Bleaches and evil looking jars also stand at attention on the same shelf. That could get ugly. Choose to skip over those products. Hate to look like someone suffering from an undesirable and incurable skin disorder. My friends and family would not allow me to leave the country again! In the end I choose to delay my hair elimination for another day.

The chip aisle, sodas and other junk food like cereal are much more recognizable. Marketing techniques are evidently international. Same blinding coloring, similar animal figures face the spectators, familiar names and packaging shapes most of which I do not touch. Empty calories and negative nutritional value. Why bother?

I spent a fair amount of time in the condiments section. It fascinates me to inspect the labels and scrutinize the “food” inside the jar. My usual parameter of not choosing products with ingredients I cannot pronounce is obviously moot. I giggle my way from foot to foot of glass working my brain and tongue around the words I whisper to myself, even attempting a couple of them out loud. Fortunately we do not shop at the same store frequently or they would alert the security guard to take me away as I approach the front door. “She makes the shoppers nervous,” they would certainly claim.  

Oh right, dog food, flea shampoo and non-noxious treats are on the list as well!

cookies and muffin tops

February 19, 2013

Working from home is not for the faint of heart. Distractions plague the weak. Resisting the urge to plop in the cool and rarely private pool out back eludes me, sweet delectable goodies shout out from the freshly loaded pantry, kids interfere with their invariable boredom, incessant churn of the cement mixer and naked from the waist up laborers chatter out back, cell phones ringing and hungry vendors canter by bellowing their advertisements. Closing the outer door hardly prevents the outside energy from creeping in like flu germs lurking. To remain intellectually engaged while the waft of fresh coffee pierces the scorcher day is an idler’s dream, the mind wanders to future plans and shopping for the impossible lingers…oh, right, back to writing stories!

Wide forehead and bulging eyes lead the protruding belly around the corner of the house, blue shorts, blackish socks and gray plastered flip flops follow. “The dog escaped the front gate again” claims the toothless grin. No one else has the ability to encourage Pipo back into the yard save muah. He gallops around the streets, collecting as many fleas as possible from the mouths and noses ground to the dirt under the fences, yammering their distress as the one-who-is-free appears thru the slats. The one who walks, feeds, tosses his body around in play and listens and watches his expressions for more water or food commands is one who can coax him home. Another disruption.

As the mouse that got a cookie or the moose that was rewarded a muffin got distracted so do I. On the way to the dog rescue I notice the laundry has stopped spinning in the washer and is begging to be hung on the line in the fast disappearing hot afternoon sun. Crusted lunch dishes invite flies in the filled sink. The pantry light is annoyingly left on. Sand swirls around on the verandah insisting on being swept into a neat pile. Has anyone peeked into the mailbox on the street as of late? Ho hum, nada para mim!

Salve Jorge novella starts soon so I may as well shut down and drown out the guilt of not committing to more than one page of additional acceptable text by gobbling a few squares of milk chocolate (preferred dark stash is long gone) and goblet of chilled blended  juice from the maracuja fruit off the tree in back. The combination of sweet and tangy is staggering and wakes up my taste buds. Perhaps I do still have some energy to generate more paragraphs or…a dip in the shaded pool..

Temps run hot

February 18, 2013

Humid weather (100.4 degrees) creates lethargy, an unquenchable thirst, hot tempers and lack of appetite. Sticky shoulders, uncomfortable breath-stopping snug clothing, gasping in relief at the slightest breeze. Not many stores operate in air-conditioned environments so there is not a shockingly abrupt shift in temps as I wander from one establishment to another this morning in town, searching for a futebol t-shirt for my nephew’s birthday. You would think the team shirts would be elbow to elbow in every store yet I have not found a one! I understand now that I have to seek out a store specific to sports. Lumber along in the heat with little energy for shopping. Can only smack my lips and think about a tall cool drink to quench my tremendous thirst.

As tempers run high outside it escalates the sensations within as well. A “Yoooohooo!” reverberates from the front gate later in the day. I see fuzzy hair peeking above the bushes wrapped around the fence frame. The nutrition-less bread vendor refuses to accept no one at 111 is eager to purchase her corn-flavored fluff. A woman suited in stripes definitely pull in the wrong direction one piece shorts outfit clamors on about the delicious bread and rolls that our neighbors are enjoying. I send her off with an assurance that we have all the bread we need in the house. Minutes later a yowl emanates from the house next door paralleling the scorching emotions and troubled communication to insist the scoundrel “Leave the front of my house immediately or there will be hell to pay!” The sideways stripes waggled as fast as they could, diminished in the steamy air.    

Being alone is a far cry from feeling lonely. A push pull has started to twinge in my gut as I consider my last several weeks as an ex-pat. Most likely the sentiment instigates from the wild oven hot emotions that run in and around the house today. I tend to deal with it in a very different manner. My past tendency was to insist I had to leave immediately, escape the ramped conflict between others in my immediate vicinity, locate a place to settle where I do not have to be in the draft of complications that afflict others. However the clash today has given me the chance to listen, reflect on my past when I myself made some questionable choices. Texted Taelor to explain I was mourning how my complicated relationships how much they affected her. She graciously answered instantly. We had worked things through together with support of our friends she inserted and assured me I am a good mother. I can ditch the Mommy Dearest application for the time being I suppose!  

Holy Cow!

February 17, 2013

Hotter than blazes at 90 degrees and no wind, humidity about a thousand degrees and we are hosting a bbq! Red bloody chunks of sea salt coated cuts of cow…ugh! I can hardly look at the hormone loaded protein sizzlin’ on the grill. I voted for thick slices of eggplant, squash and cheese to nibble on. Beer from the freezer makes me lethargic and droopy. Splash in the chilled pool to wake up long enough to munch on my crispy veggies and enjoy the conversation whipping past me. After coming up on five months in Brasil my Portuguese is passable, as long as I speak fast enough no one suspects the pronunciation isn’t what it should be. I make up words and am able to chortle along with everyone else when some professor type catches my gross errors. 

Interestingly enough there were a few complaints that the bbq went by too quickly. Normally it extends for hours, slurping beverages, chomping away at the stabbed meat clinging to the tip of a fork after being dipped into a special flour mixture with animated conversation across and around the table.

The kids race around the house with the dog and zip by to snatch a charred chicken heart or hunk of crispy meat. North American 80’s music streams from the house. We all bop around while I sing along in a waivery voice.

Old friends gather and the women end up stirring around stories about childbirth experiences. We become hysterical revisiting the fierce details that once caused us so much physical pain. The kids appear ‘round the corner to hear of their beginning. Tomorrow is the start of class for one of the neighbor boys so he plans on telling the bloody events of his birth when he has to “share” with his classmates. Stinker. 

Big Brother

February 16, 2013

“Big Brother Brasil” is a tv show about a group of young hot men and gorgeous sexy women who are living in a glass house together in the middle of a shopping mall. Each one of them has a microphone strapped to their leg or arm so their words are reverberated to the viewers. The show appears nightly revealing the usually scandalous or ridiculous situations happening in the typically temporary relationships of the couples. There are multiple sponsors who provide food and drink, music and clothing. There are a lot of parties with dancing, too much drinking which leads to the demise or beginning of yet another romance in the house of glass. We hear conversations between them, divulging the gory or sweet details of their private (ha!) words. Occasionally they boot people off the show, inviting viewers to text or call in to place their vote, deciding who has to leave. The one who is left in the glass house alone is deemed the winner of a million reais.

It is quite startling to realize just how critical I feel about the characters despite the fact that I don’t understand most of what is going on in the show or between the participants. It is purely based on how they act and what they wear, who they choose to interact with and comments from the audience. The show hosts asks them who should leave the show and whom they like. Since we don’t usually watch an entire show, it makes my reaction even more wicked. We chuckle about the absurdity of the show and only catch glimpses of who is still playing a part from the blips between our novella.

I understand there are several shows that resemble Big Brother but I have not seen any others. It is a relief not to have to follow yet again another saga I don’t quite catch onto.

Working War

February 15, 2013

Have to remind myself as I fill bags of trash to and from the beach each day…there is a reward for being a good steward of the land. It is NOT getting closer to the front of the line in heaven, finding a great guy to partner with, receiving free gifts on-line nor fulfilling the things I want in my life. It is simply the satisfaction that I have done a small part of my bit on the planet. I still shudder as I gather pieces of Styrofoam (it never goes away!) and plastic bottles. I am painfully aware this occurs all over the world and not just in Brasil. TRASH. It is unfortunate that some people are just unaware, uneducated or disinterested in caring for Mother Earth. I give my time and energy as a warden to the planet since it is important to me and for my daughter and her children.

Being a “good” person or employee is a matter of interpretation. Volunteering is an integral part of my life and yet not deemed important on a resume. Why is that? It is also recommended to remove my own business ventures on the same document. I would love to sit down with a panel of corporate executives to ask them about their commitment to having secure, creative, flexible and out-of-the-box employees who may not have the higher level of education yet offer many years of experience in the working world.    

I am glad for good health, more often than not proper English skills, creative energy, a vehicle, experience in several unique areas and a savings account. This is as much as any individual across the world can offer. A willingness and capability to work, to contribute special talents and skills and forced to accept the value of what the market will bear. It is amazing to realize the level of jobs and rate of pay that has not increased very much over the last ten years.

In Brasil, minimum wage has risen four times its worth since I left in 2002. I cannot say the same for North America. The going rate for entry to intermediate level positions in Minneapolis range $10-$14 per hour. Most positions are part-time and do not offer benefits. How do workers support themselves let alone a family on those frightening wages? It is disconcerting to imagine returning to the United States of America and accepting the quality of life earnings, or lack thereof, available in the working world. It is part of the reason I left the country, to create another perspective and gain alternative skills to round off my resume. In the end, that did not happen. I also need to consider what posts will be offered with my injured foot? A pre-existing condition…great!

Brasil has basically two classes, those whom have a college education and consequently solid employment to be able to support the service class workers and the poor. Is that where the US is headed? When I share my work experience and describe the minimal prospects I have to make a livable wage without supplementary self-employment income S. American friends are in shock. Even those who seem to be struggling with money support the income of a maid who receives nearly R$14 per hour in an area of several million people!

How to be a part of a change for the working poor is beyond my grasp at this point. I feel inadequate and dampened. Time to meditate!

Dia dos Namorados

Valentine’s Day!

Dias dos Namorados (Valentine’s Day) is in June here in Brasil. It isn’t a holiday we North Americans make it out to be, spending oodles of money on diamonds and roses, dinner and chocolates to prove our love for our partner. In fact, many Brasilian friends fail to wear a wedding diamond or band to display their attachment to their spouse. One friend admits they have wedding rings but have locked them away in the safety deposit box.

Love is walking Pipo along the rustic streets of intimidating dogs guarding their land and comfortable homes. Love is the sight of the undulating waves along the sandy beach. Love is being with my old friends who trust and honor me in the courageous journey of my growth and commitments. Love is being surrounded by ten year old boys with tumultuous energy and tremendous force and resistance of unbalanced adolescents. Love is warmth and overcast skies, sun and humidity. Love is cathartic and frequently baffling. Love is acceptance of where I am in my healing. I am in Love.

My Valentine is in St Paul working hard on her studies and playing at life in her spare time.

Happy Valetine’s Day Peanut!

Mall rats

February 13, 2013

Going to the movies with beside themselves in excitement two ten year old boys! Had to sign a release and show their government documents to prove they were of age (10) to watch the movie and were able to sit in the audience unsupervised. Mega bucks were doled out at the ticket counter and even more at the concession stand. Popcorn and a big soda amounted to R$16.75 and the boys insisted on having their own fumy bag of corn and cup of bubbly carbonated sugar water. Their tickets were R$10.50 and the adults ran R$21.00. Just like N America where you have to stop at the bank for a loan to get into the movies and buy snacks! There is cotton candy (“snow candy” is printed on the plastic container label) sour sticks and a few chocolate bar options yet nowhere near the rows of sugar coated selections back home.

The Shopping Center parking lot was packed but one level in comparison to the Mall parking in the States. Many Lookie Lous and not many shopping bags spotted throughout the aisles in the Mall.

Offers flooded in for places to stay in the Twin Cities in the last few days which are much appreciated. My discombobulated Resume is coming together thanks to a lot of help from great and loyal friends. Having to deal with my lack of higher education blues (again?) and sorting out the bad habit of jumping into yet another industry or arena to add to the enigma of my life. One of these days I will figure out where I am going and what I will do for my right livelihood! In the meantime I continue to eat popcorn and chocolate while reading a book.

Resume rescue

February 12, 2013

Resume wrangling is …well, not my favorite pastime. I am choosing to consider living and working in the grand state of Minnesota again to be near my darling daughter, my fabulous friends and few family members. Whew! That was a wrestling match with my heart and soul.to make this decision. I will certainly be open to other options as well if something comes up.

Working on selling myself on a piece of paper, the puzzle of skills and talents, multiple jobs, employment with various companies, my time of entrepreneurship, the confusion of matching background with post requirements. It is a complex and sweaty endeavor, one that appears to have to be repeated with care and multiple revisions.

Escola de Samba from cities around Brasil showing crowds of people dancing, drinking and enjoying the last evening of Carnaval events. Attempting to work on something as complicated and strategic as my resume cannot be accomplished with the colorful images whirring across the tv screen. Noise from the street is also a distraction. Private parties light up the roads in front and behind the house in this little neighborhood. Music clashes with shouts of joy and passion from the open glass beyond the curtains.

I have plenty of time to attack the employment issues…will put it off for another day. A Brasilian tomorrow!

Carnaval Carnage

February 11, 2013

The Florianopolis Samba School was closed due to lack of funds this year. Everyone is talking about the fact that it is yet another shameless pocket-padding option for the governing bodies. So many of the free street events for Carnaval have been shut down and the hotel and indoor proceedings are very spendy. There are several block parties set up around the neighborhoods who have the fortitude and commitment to organize them. The typically spit from one end to the other in size Blocs rock with music, sizzle with food, flood with drink and undulate savagely with dance. Bright banners charge across the threshold and the crowds that spill in and out onto the street are branded with vibrant and outrageous colors. The official Carnaval dates run 2/2-2/12 so this is the tail end of the charged carnage excitement. Outrageous costumes and hats, make-up (both sexes) and heels tall enough to fall to one’s death.

The following day black trash bags line the roads from the collection of packaging and mysterious bulges inside. Beaches lined with paper white to nearly black bodies soaking in what is left of the Carnaval sun and fun before having to return to their employment and the little ones to the education system. Service workers arrive later than usual regurgitating stories of late night parties and celebrations. It is a bank holiday yet the majority of the shops are in operation to take full advantage of the tourism industry followers.

Massage madness today at our steamy house. Not quite large enough to fully support my tall frame diningroom table cleared and blankets, sheets, special triangular pillows and oils, fans blowing serene air, incense and relaxing music drifting throughout the wood and tile space to create an atmosphere of tranquility and rising above problems and concerns. What a treat!

Parent Trap

February 10, 2013

Guilt is a confrontation for many of us, especially as a parent when one makes a choice that seems acceptable at the time yet may end up being an implant for culpability which grows and embeds in our cells.

During long conversations over cups of tea or goblets of wine words form stories of circumstances and decisions turned sour. Frowns of worry shoot across the brow and goose bumps crawl over arms as details of the circumstances when sounded out sputter into words which were fragmented and buried for so long. Gross scenes undulate through the space around the story teller and full sentences exacerbate the dilemma. It is helpful to share the agony with judiciously selected and deemed trustworthy friends who can cluck in profound empathy and pay close attention in the anguished energy.

How do we shake the dreaded burden of guilt? Share, give up the secret that binds and know forgiveness is accessible. Over time the discovery of clemency instills acceptance and mourning subsides at a glacial pace. Grief for the seemingly simple and enigmatic choice that held us in an unforgivable outlook for years on end flows away and into the atmosphere.

It is an exceptionally admirable job to be the listener and one that should not be taken lightly. To be mostly silent and still, acknowledging the process resisting the urge to jump in to discredit or downplay the deed. I believe it is a privilege to hear the sorrowful tales, events that dwell in darkness until exceptional courage and a poised opening presents itself. An audience to welcome the blemishes that protrude and scour without fault or blame is not easy to come by. The greatest gift a friend can give to another is respect and honor wherever that person is on their journey of absolution. Without judgment and great absorbable shoulders the selected listener may also find the courage to battle their own excursion of guilt.

My continuing passion would be…to part a curtain,

That invisible shadow that falls between people,

The veil of indifference to each other’s presence,

Each other’s wonder,

Each other‘s plight.

Eudora Welty

Market of fleas

February 9, 2013

To my brother, Tony, the youngest of nine. I hope you had a fabulous day with the family. I am sorry I was not able to talk with you directly to offer you a personal message. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

A massive gent in a blue apron officiated the weighing in of vegetables and fruits, rapidly adding the value of sacks and providing change back with a gigantic smile. The sweet smell of green, gorgeous piles of crisp produce from the farmers covered the space under the wide tent. This early Saturday at the Farmers Market was bleary yet rich with life.

Later in the day at the Brechdog flea market that began as a disappointing single drab pile of mish mash items and gradually absorbed most of the green space available on the city block. Exceedingly short shorts, blinding skirts, bell bottomed slacks, lightweight waist tugging jackets, disappointingly small shoes, glittery accessories and ancient dogs that wandered underfoot caught the passerby’ attention.

Men dressed in drag, big hair, butt hugging clownish pants, hi-rise sandals and bigger than life make-up strolled the streets shrieking something about “Carnaval” and shuffled by gyrating the samba. Lively music entranced the growing number of shoppers as everyone enthusiastically dug thru the cardboard boxes for treasures. The rain started just as I left the area with a workable piece of luggage and a few unusual finds.

Pipo has been shadowing me since my return. I suppose since I fill his bowl twice a day, accompany him to the beach each morning, comb through his scruffy fur for fleas and secure him by the collar when the garage door opens and closes he thinks I belong to him. I may have to Skype him upon my return to the States.

I hope all of my friends in Boston are safe. I am thinking of you today.

Water Fall

February 8, 2013

The chocolate swirl cake overflowed onto the floor of the oven range as burnt dough permeated the air throughout the house. The neighbors are out of gas so they borrowed our oven. Rainy day cake swiftly turned sour. The maid was called from next door to clean up the mess.

Overflowing rows of plastic buckets line the edge of the verandah to capture the free drippings from the sky to use on a later date in the garden. In Port Townsend, Washington this is illegal. To create a private catchment system is inviting trouble. The water that falls from your rooftop belongs to the City and should be allowed to drift into the watershed or so the officials insist. In Hawaii the residents would not have sufficient water in the household without the ability to catch it from the sky to fill their enormous tanks alongside the house. Several of our close friends had to resort to purchasing water for their enormous tanks in times of drought. We got extremely creative with our savage rain dances and imploring prayers when the season was desert dry and thoroughly grim.

Tears of anger, overwhelm, depression, stress, physical pain, happiness, frustration, tragedy, joy, Kleenex commercials, and crying for seemingly no good reason are a relief. 60% of our body consists of water and 70% of our brain cells. Water is such an essential and influential part of our lives. As the rain pounds like the flood of tears and absorbs into the shallow clay soil, disappears nearly as quickly as it comes I consider the options for desalinization and trouncing the lack of drinkable water.

It continues to rain throughout the day and night. I am grateful for the accumulation in the watershed system. Hopefully we will not be suffering from lack of water every afternoon for a few more weeks.

Unfortunately the unrelenting rain is forecast to fall tomorrow and consequently my outdoor flea market excursion will be delayed until next Saturday afternoon.

The chocolate twist cake finished baking and was returned to the neighbors without a sampling…shoot! I would have had a slice with a tall drink of water.

Xixi revealed

February 7, 2013

Caught a sheepish young man urinating next to his all terrain mountain bike in the bushes by the Dunes while jaunting to the beach with Pipo late morning. Unfortunately I had to pass him again since the trail led to an impassable ditch…you know how I feel about those treacherous yawning holes. They are ankle breakers.

There is a current persistent commercial with infamous actors and artists who sing and dance a message about not peeing out in public. If you have to go, find a restroom! There are so many street events during Carnaval and it must be a prominent and unsightly problem throughout the country for them to display this memorandum during peak hours on the tv. I suppose it isn’t a pleasant issue for the local police to deal with, they have far too much on their hands already. No pun intended.

The button to flush the toilet broke. It is prominently inserted into the tile wall above the commode. Several gangly boys crept uncomfortably out of the bathroom, skulking along the hallway wall to avoid being spotted as the culprit of a dirty bowl. I showed the family how to fill a bucket with water and slosh it into the privado and wala, problem solved. I felt like David Copperfield since they clapped and hooted in amazement.

Since we are on the subject of the water closet, it is unusual to have a bathtub here in Brasil. Hot water usually only comes out of the shower head, all other water sources have a single cold tap. More often than not the restroom smells a bit moldy since towels tossed over the shower curtain rod rarely dry within 12 hours because there is little air circulating. Surprisingly, since used toilet paper is placed in the small wastebasket next to the toilet, the room infrequently smells ghastly. Floor to ceiling is tiled. Glass sliding doors or partition are more common than a cloth curtain. Overhead fans and heaters are non-existent. On the odd occasion there is a decorative item, it doesn’t stand out from the necessities. Lavatories are seemingly an insignificant room in the house. They are typically turn around in size and bare bones.

Just discovered an agency, Bredog (brecho is flea market in English) whose volunteers capture, shelter, spay and neuter stray dogs and cats in the community then find them appropriate homes. How cool is that? All around Florianopolis, scary thin mangy dogs await tasty scraps outside restaurants and grocery stores. I notice they adopted the airport and hang around gas stations as well. This organization has a Saturday bizarre every week in February to sell off donated goods. I am excited to attend and see what goodies I can bring back to my friends and family!

Denise and I will peruse the open-Saturday-only shop this weekend. It is the end of summer here so I anticipate a lot of lightweight things up for sale. Buying used items is definitively not customary yet there are many people who are struggling financially and may well take advantage of the high end bits and pieces at reasonable prices. I am hoping I don’t have to resort to using my pointy elbows to wrangle with anyone!

And remember NO PEEING IN THE STREET!

No child's play

February 6, 2013

New statistics of violence erupt in a region of this country that was once undoubtedly determined by Wikipedia as one of the lowest areas of crime known to Brasil, Santa Catarina. A grocery store is robbed in a neighboring district while criminals hop on a get away motorcycle with a bundle of undisclosed amounts of reais housed in plastic bags blaring their brand. A public bus is burnt to a crisp to threaten a rival gang. A tourist killed on top of a mountain designated as the most fabulous view of the island. In the midst of Carnaval, the greatest tourist attraction for Brasil comes shocking news of desperate bloodshed and sinful offense. Word has it that the perps are young and driven by the adults hidden within the judicial and prison systems, ruling the majority with brides and criminal intent on behalf of the chain of command. Corrupt police officers (city, state and federal,) politicians, guards, judges, attorneys, anyone who touches the compelling voices of the imprisoned, and those who have yet to be caught and incarcerated. After the horrendous fire in Santa Maria, this challenge takes over the long faces of the evening newscasters.   

This small city, once the ultimate nirvana destination of Brasil, is now suffering from the growth and victimization of fame. How long she will be able to hide behind the brilliant and glittery Carnaval costumes is debatable.  

On a lighter note, am working with the kids on numbers and simple nouns in English!

The dog is my shadow, even raced upstairs behind me after our walk to the overcast beach this afternoon. It was his first time climbing the stairs..silly dog. The whole family gasped at his shocking behavior!

I promise to invent up some fabulous and upbeat event for tomorrow’s blog!