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!