Friday, March 8, 2013

Int Mom's Day



International Mother’s Day

Banana pancakes coming up! Theo has decided he does like my secret recipe ‘cakes after all so I am flapping away for the finicky eater.

Received unsolicited hugs and cheek-turning kisses from the mothers choosing their wares in one shop to the next as I skirted the rain and puddles, nearly slipping on the cobblestones in the center of the city.

A door prize goes to the reader who figures out the specific gift I searched high and low for, spent weeks on end of describing the seemingly unique item and explaining how it works to clerks in nearby areas. One shopkeeper suggested the Hare Krishna’s sell this ditty as they glide along the city streets. He promises to get a contact number and pass it along to me the next time the chanting soul-savers come pedaling! Finally connected with one coveted piece in a dark and narrow market, made a quick transaction in the back room, a deliberate gift wrap and begged off the plastic bag. Score!

Stood at the pastel booth with the patient granny who was bringing lunch home to a “big family,” young whipper-snappers with their moms, hungry teens, and a sunglass salesman who’s wares hung from his belt and covered with an oversized black shirt. He was doing his best to charm cash out of the woman behind the counter who took a break from pastel-filling to try on a pair or two. One pastel at a time and 18 orders ahead of mine made for a bit of a wait in the hot sun. The booth was lined elbow-to-elbow with dripping pastels filled with chicken bits, shredded beef or cheese or a combination of several wrapped in two paper towels. Bottles of thick brown/green liquid sported striped straws extended out the top. If you wanted to buy a soda you had to drink it at the booth or take a plastic cup since the glass requires a deposit. I chose to buy a cup of caldo de cana, a sweet cane juice to die for on a humid day. Sat in the shade on a cement bench off to the side of the bustling market to eat, drink and people watch. Delightful.

Winding up and down the streets is a joy. Colorful passerbys dodge one another’s umbrella tips and shopping bags. A few of the roads are closed to car traffic and easier to maneuver. Men dancing in the streets to advertise the shop discounts, blaring music emits from another doorway and native women again park themselves invisibly on either side. Of course, the humble women never look up and into the spectacular faces of the crowd so no one recognized me as a potential customer.

Off to walk the dog in the dreary overcast afternoon. One more full day here in Floripa!

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