March 10, 2013
An early trip to Sao Paulo after a short
night of sleep, too much beer and strawberry dessert. Can’t describe the folks
at the airport since I was far too tired to think. Crept along with my cane and
fumbled up the stairs to my seat. The 48 minute flight flew by so I didn’t have
a chance to sleep. Drat!
The stiff sitting next to me
never breathed a word during the short flight except to reject the hard coated
peanuts and request an orange juice from the beverage cart. The trim crisp
flight attendant with twin purple circles under her eyes (I suspect a recent
visit to the plastic surgeon) and stingy counterpart whom I didn’t have the
courage to ask for a second serving of bagged nuts since he sternly grimaced at
one of the other passengers who suggested she wanted a full can of juice versus
the standard shot. My professionally-attired seat mate studied and marked a lengthy document and
snoozed for 32 minutes, give or take, while we soared above the clouds. I don’t
know what I did with my time except that I felt very parched and, though
unprovoked, completely disgruntled.
Two young and boisterous
boys, 2 and 5 year olds came to collect me at the airport with their fairly tall, pale-complected serious and handsome
dad. I was sure I’d sent a message from the airport clearly stating that the
plane was delayed yet they never received it. The lanky boys who are obvious descendants of their father balanced on either side of him like an oreo. The ankle-biters kept up their
chatter from the back seat the entire route home. This neighborhood, Fabio
assures me, is a taxi ride to shopping, parks safe enough to walk in, restaurants
and bars, nothing but a shanty-town on the opposite side of the busy street within walking distance. As he is explaining the wondrous features of the surrounding area,
Tiago, the eldest is yammering for a fish after I had asked him if they have
any pets at home. "No? Not even a fish?"…that set him off. "I want a fish, just a little fish!"
Green Hulk figures,
Superman, Spiderman, Legos, blocks, trucks, small blue, red, yellow and green
plastic table and matching chairs, puzzles, games and such breed in the corner
of the vast livingroom.
Incredible lunch menu with
grilled veggies and tofu while we chatted about this that and the other. Being
around young boys is always a bit unsettling. They romp, run, scramble to climb
on people’s backs, futz with video games, glue themselves to the tv screen,
ignore pleadings for hugs and don’t show much interest in my pics of beasts
from my trip stretching from the farm on, hit one another, hide things, eat on
the run and are very loveable.
The older of the two is in a
bi-lingual school. His English skills are incredible. Sitting in the back seat
he blurted out “Great! I couldn’t be better!” Highly doubt he knew what the
hell he was saying but I had to laugh out loud in earnest. Everyone learns “The
book is on the table” and is a standard interjection when discussing language
class.
Grandma is an immigrant from
Italy.
She is a perfect box with a silvery grey top. Light blue floral mumu fluttered about her as she scrutinized me with a dare. Her entire family escaped the Western Front regime and she has never fully recovered. An obvious
stubborn decision to not speak fluent Portuguese makes her isolated and lonely after many friends have
died or moved away. Kaka is lonely and forlorn. Her daughter, Fabio's son-in-law, is concerned about her mother's future and rapidly diminishing facilities. Mom is stubborn and insists upon cooking for herself and not allowing hired help to sleep over in her beds. Syvia asks me how the aging infrastructure world works in the United States. In my opinion it is on shaky ground as well. Forgetting herself seems to come
naturally to grandmother though she did remember the grapes!
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