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!

Decisions vs problems

February 4, 2013

The Right Thing

I was grounded in that moral fiber of

wanting to do the right thing. I was so

sure that this was the right thing because

it was so obvious and even those who

were persecuting me knew, and I know

they knew..I was doing the right thing.

But they didn’t want me to do it

Because it was inconveniencing them

And I knew that.

Wangari Masthai

Noble Peace Laureate 2004

The foot searing beach was jammed early this morning after a restless night of sciatic nerve and lower back pain. Pipo and I mildly considered running through the oily bodies screaming and yipping in glee. I took the lead and chose to hide our merriment since anything beyond a normal pace proves to be impractical still.  Proved to be a steamy walk back home through the medium-class neighborhood of furious dogs thrusting themselves at the iron/wooden/wire gates that separated the sequestered from the free.

A 21 minute meditation that followed our arrival was mostly uneventful, floating images of familiar faces and decisions that present themselves as problems and determinedly put back in their place of the Decision category once again. Oh, you know, the decisions of how to get the adversary metal taken out of my foot, what delectable to make for lunch, where on earth I am going to live the remaining years of my life, when will I have the time to spray flea/tick prevention on the lawn, how I am going to make a decent livelihood, what exotic gifts to purchase for the unfortunates back home, how I am going to spend the rest of my five weeks and three days here?

When will I know it is the right thing? How do I recognize it? Why hasn’t it shown up yet? Who will show it to me? What consequences will I have to deal with? Where will it happen?

Ah, the suspence!

Godzilla Attacks!

February 5, 2013

All work and no pay make for an empty refrigerator and crabby friends! 

Fiscal worries create fear and anxiety that bleed onto the other household members including the dog, next door neighbors, folks up and down the street, throughout the city and state, around the country and ekes into the world at large. Each sensation of disconcert is like an eye drop of water in a bucket, spreading out to the edge and cyclically returns the way it came. Back and forth it moves repeatedly until the molecules of the liquid itself seem to change and alter form.

Unexpected laughter fails to reach the crows around the eyes, sounding sharply hollow and gravely forced. Small decisions such as purchasing school supplies for the up-coming year turns into a Godzilla overwhelmingly threatening the vulnerable citizens.

The garage door is not moving up and down properly, all of the florescent light bulbs mysteriously burn out at the same time, the weed eater halts unpredictably, credit card charges grow like cancer in a petri dish, the cars are both on “E,” eyeglasses break at an irreparable spot, a tooth breaks off while crunching on a carrot stick, food disappears as if gorging on itself. The alarm is unmistakable.

Tomorrow has arrived.

A classic comedy is in order, as with trepidation, belly laughter reverberates throughout the planet and beyond, entrenching the masses with joy and promise. Time to heat up scrumptious leftovers and turn water into wine.

Open Season

February 3, 2013

Waiters make 10% of the take from their tables. No salary required. A mouth with shiny blue braces shadowed by a black shirt followed by matching jeans and black hi-tops approached our round table positioned adjacent to the U-shaped pizza prep area. Two athletic wiry handsome chef-capped men shared the space with an un-smiling proficient woman, hands flying, flinging toppings on exact rounds of whole wheat crust that made their way into the coal flames. Theo and I were quite entranced by the well-orchestrated performance. As expected the joint was packed with polite pizza lovers donning knife and fork. Never see people eating pizza with their hands!  

“More one please!” Theo has been suffering from a virus the part eight days, his stomach feels sick after meals and at bath time, yet he snarfed his two pieces of ‘za slathered with mozzarella and linguisa without a complaint. The waiter received R$14 for his efforts, parking lot attendant accepted his R$2 and we drove home in the drizzling evening content with the thrill of getting out on a Saturday night with a crowd.    

Lazy, rainy, chilly (ha!) Sunday. Headed to the Pharmacy to ask the pharmacist what to do about Theo's red, inflamed, streaming eye. Yes, still have a pharmacist on duty at every pharmacy to talk with directly about the symptoms and get advice!

Gotta get back to watching the animated animal film Theo chose at the video store, Bicho vai Pegar 2 Google Translate says “Bicho will pick yet it’s really Open Season 2. Oh boy!

Iemaja's Wish

February 2, 2013

Dodging the Super Flies in the heat and welcomed breeze. What a great relief to awaken sans the incessant cement mixer whirring out back next to the messy pile of office construction.

I can still feel the sand adhered to my tanned lower back. Schlepped to Juaquina across the busy Avenida Campeche to join the nearly nude beachcombers accompanied by a spattering of colorful umbrellas with small toddlers digging to the center of the earth with spatulas and buckets beneath the welcomed shade. Today is another day of request of Iemaja who is the illustrious Goddess of the Sea and has the ability to grant our wishes, if she is coveted and gifted with some treasure that appeals to her ostentatious manner. I was surprised to see flowers scattered along the wet beach, washed up from last night’s presentation. Immense stout bees took full advantage of the heady blossoms which caused me to smile in glee.

A first year birthday party commenced hours ago just across the now drenched sandy road with delicacies such as Skol beer, miniature hot dogs, cheese, chicken and beef-filled mini quiches, chocolate cake with swirls of thick chocolate, laced with strawberries. Yum! Could only delicately and politely scarf one rich piece. Drat!

A family from the Land of the Giants, on the north west side of the state, who reside on a farm have children of four and ten, I would have guessed six and twelve years old. Huge bellies hung over Bermuda shorts and butts jutted out just as far from behind, poor things. Ate and ate voraciously like there was no tomorrow to be had. The Princess of the party was wobbling around, eyes as big as the plate she ate from. I was presented with a magnet as a remembrance, those baby blues piercing thru the lens to grown up to become an ice dancer or  architect like her thin as a crochet hook pixie-nosed mother.     

Was able to follow the story in Portuguese on the DVD we shared late this afternoon, crowded around the big screen tv. Grateful for the chance to see a more recent film, it has been four months, nearly to the day, since I left the States. Following long conversations and entertaining crowds with a few of my own made up stories told in a language other than my native one has its satisfactions.On a gratifying rainy day I got my wish.

Dogs day

February 1, 2013

As I lie in the hot fine sand and generations of fleas skitter across my back, around my abdomen and along my spine I hear the clink of chain against chain and the human appears around the corner to shout my name. “Pipo! Are you ready to go to the beach?” she asked in a excited squeaky voice that humans use to encourage and engage children and pets. I jump nearly slipping sideways over the lump of wood that lines the extensive sand box I have claimed since the little human left with his large plastic toys and car shapes that were rigid to lay on.

The clip is attached to my loose leather collar, much looser since we started heading to the beach and schlepping around the neighborhood daily. Urinating on the enemy’s scent every few paces to prove that I have been here last and dominate the territory, we weave our way down the hot bricked path, between fences that house little deranged scrappers, medium-sized scruffy mind-your-own-business yappers and the big, oh soooo large and ferocious beasts that yammer in envy that I am out and they are sequestered. I don’t have time to challenge them because the human is on a determined mission to get to the water. We approach the hot molding sand just beyond the sidewalk that leads up to the narrow dense path then climbs up atop the Dunes and salty breeze from the sea. The human stops to pause and stoops to slip off the loud slapping things and we continue on. Other humans advance towards us and will certainly pose a challenge for me since I don’t like the clanking of the flat objects they carry. The strong smelling bigger forms are especially disconcerting. The human attending to me stops at the wide openings prior to a tapered path to allow the humans to pass around us. I feel more at ease and secure.

This sunny time is very uncomfortable so I halt and plop down in the dark places to feel cooler. The walk home seemed very long and I stopped many times, weaving back and forth in front of the human who grasped the clanking chain and forced me to one side or the other of her. The human had high energy as home got closer and rattled “Pipo, let’s get you plenty of fresh water when we get home, ignore those jealous ankle-biters and save your energy.” The border banged shut and two of my bowls were filled to the brim with cool water, such a relief to lie on the tile in the cool with a breeze blowing over me. I can hardly feel those crawling things along my face and ears! Nap time!

The human claps at the gate and Chika and I barge forward to see what is going to happen. This human always has something to inhale for each of us but makes me wait until Christened Chika eats first. I have been penalized and reprimanded severely when I  growl and snap when something I like to eat is in the vicinity. I cannot help myself, I have to protect my share and get anxious and whiny when intimidated. The other human comes to make the long escape hatch widen but I cannot get out, they are too quick.

Ah, smelly treats waved in front of my long snout. I grab and swallow what I can before someone else moves in. Large tub and white wrap appears that means getting wet, bottle represents heavy wet sensation running along my spine and rubbed into my body, black thing reminds me of having my feet tight and sharp snaps at the ends make me jump in surprise every time. The past trauma of stabbing pain and an alarm cry and pinch soothes me and the human relaxes. Not sure what this human is going to do but I hang my head in anticipation.

I shake in expectancy while hiding under the little space making myself unseen. Yelp, squirm, throw myself upwards when the wetness hits and that doesn’t stop the human so I relax and eventually stop shaking. The draping over my body feels good and the rubbings are nice, more soft food that I gulp while shaking again. Ears and teeth are wiped and surprise me. It doesn’t hurt but is unfamiliar. I shriek and squeal, wiggle my way out, out, out and am released, free! Race around like a young dog. Lots of rubbing then the escape opens wide again and the human is gone. Curl around to doze.