Sick day

March 7, 2013

Joao’s BIRTHDAY!

We are all farting around today watching movies, futzing on the internet, listening to podcasts, warding off the flu and monitoring the clothes washer. In this damp climate, overcast skies, things hung on the line will take days to dry. Vomit remnants on the comforter, sheets, throw pillows, rags, towels, clothes…parents remember those days! Theo caught a nasty virus from some nineish year old and kept the household awake, yes, even Pipo, the dog since we ended up at the Hospital for intravenous fluids. While De and I nodded off in the dark Children’s Ward, Theo slept and replaced his lunch and dinner with liquids thru a tube. 

The nearly scoreless Corinthians soccer game was on so I glued myself to the legal-paper sized static tv in the lobby along with several dozen other ailing patients and their attentive partners. Wrapped in muted sweatshirts, second-skin jeans, Havaianas (infamous flip flops) practical hooded jackets, tight stretch pants, thin cotton tops with accessories of lumps, bumps and bruises, we all patiently awaited our turn with the doctor. No blood spilling, no yowls of pain, no joints popping out of gaping holes-how disappointing! Sent Theo home with anti-nausea meds and a plastic trash bag to wrap around the soiled towel.

Had to cancel my much anticipated trip into town to collect my last minute gifts and mingle with the natives. Shoot. I stuck around to administer tangy popsicles, offer plain white rice, chilled Gatorade, salted crackers and skinned apple slices. Will head out to the center of town by bus, first thing in the morning. It has been an adventure to locate a Santos futebol t-shirt let alone one that has a favored Neymar #11 on the back. More popular are the misspelled or grammatically incorrect English words and phrases on a slim-fitted tank. One of the stars on the novella had a black tight t-shirt that read “Batman goes burzerk!”

Beef Stroganoff (skipped over since I got an extra salty fried egg,) white rice, French fries and greens with slices of papaya for lunch and I am looking forward to the chocolate cake for dinner! Thus far, no signs of the dreaded lurking virus.

Green Card

March 6, 2013

In steamy March of 1999 Taelor and I took a seventeen hour non-air conditioned bus trip with the rapid-fire speaking locals to Foz do Iguaçu that touches Argentina, Paraguay, Uruguay and Brasil. We brought plenty of snacks, liquids, pillows and a blanket (which we actually fought over through the long chilly night) and spoke our spattered Portuguese, sharing food with those big brown-eyed gentle folk. We were on a mission to renew our Visas since being denied more time in the country by the Brasilian officers at the Federal Police Station in Florianopolis. In order to stay for another six months my choices were to:

1. marry a Brasilian
2. locate a company that was willing to be financially accountable for us
3. have a baby by a Brasilian
4. leave the country and request more time from their officials

The Falls are incredible and were well worth the trip. I met the friend of a friend at a café in Uruguay who escorted us to the Federal Police Station. The officer who tended to us had gone to Miami the year before to visit his brother. With a sneer he told his story to us rich and fortunate North Americans. He was met at the arrival gate by two burly officers who ceremoniously cuffed his hands and feet together and put him on the next plane back to Uruguay. In language I am fearful to repeat, under no uncertain terms would he grant us more time on our Visa. Onto Argentina!

Crossed the border to the next FPS prior to arrival I encouraged Taelor to appear thoroughly despondent and absolutely pitiful. Despite her acting capabilities, I believe the Uruguayan officer made a detailed phone call on the Bat Phone since the Argentinean instantly, firmly and flatly refused our request without justification. Paraguay bound!

This time I was in near tears considering we would have to live like fugitives and may need to change our names living sans a Witness Protection Program. The Captain was abruptly called in to the small sterile room as I was beside myself, he snubbed us as well. I then bent on knee and asked him if he was single and wanted to get married. That broke the ice and everyone (all men) fell into laughter yet remained firm to rebuff our request.

Back to Foz do Iguaçu for a picnic and a visit to the zoo before boarding the bus home. It is a fabulous zoo and I had a long conversation with the parrots behind the fence. One perched on the fence, I recall and tipped it’s head to be scratched. Taelor was impressed by my quick taming skills. Once I had a sole proprietorship called Bird Brains!

In the end I met and married a Brasilian of Italian descent and was awarded a CPF card which gave me the freedom to work and live here without having to glance over my shoulder at every turn. Mauricio and I enthusiastically jumped through the numerous hoops to prove our legitimate marriage. It was actually much like the “Green Card” film. The police came unannounced to our house, interviewed the neighbors, thoroughly searched the premises for both sets of clothing, toothbrushes and contraception. He even asked Taelor a number of questions about my hubby. We had separate interviews at the Police Station downtown. The painstaking inquisition included questions such as what unique markings the other had on their body, what side of the bed we each sleep on, what time the other goes to work, what my maiden name is, what his mother’s name is, where the other grew up, what mutual friends we have, etc. Mauricio recounted his meeting together with the Sergeant was mostly a casual chat about this, that and the other. I suspect he is gay since Mauricio’s interview lasted over an hour and mine about twenty minutes! Our friends were pulled into the picture as well and asked umpteen questions about our relationship. They seemed satisfied by the photos we presented of the Justice of the Peace wedding and subsequent celebratory party.

The law states I cannot leave the country for more than two years time so after ten long years away, our marriage is now unfortunately null and void. Each time I enter the country I have to apply for a new Visa.

The United States of America never acknowledged our marriage. So, yes, I am single.

Brick vs glass houses

March 5, 2013

A stretch of ten days of rain is expected. My last days near the beach and I will have to wade along the slushy sand to arrive at the Dunes. Layers of clothing, bright orange peds with my flip flops like the Japanese custom. Pinching my toes a bit but that can’t be helped.

The private transport van arrived with Theo who is animated and chatty about the events at school. He gets picked-up first promptly at 6:10am and dropped off last at 12:30. First graders thru High Schoolers attend class for four hours per day. Statistically the Brasilians rank high in academics in the world. Theo begins English classes this year in fourth grade. He attends a public school attached to the University system which is difficult to get into. The van driver collects six and drops one off at another school along the same route. Denise pays R$750 per month for this convenience. First day of class the group of teachers sang and played instruments to greet the students back to school. I noticed the men were strumming and the singers were all women! Many parents were there to take their kids to school though I understand many of them are met at school and driven home by private companies. The neighbor boy attends Anaba, a Waldorf School that started class a few weeks ago. They continue to adhere to the rules that Taelor lived by ten years ago-no television, no computers, no mirrors in the school, each child learns to knit, embroider and play violin or flute as well as learn two idioms aside from their native language. The students have the same teacher from first thru 12^th grade. The tuition is very high and is out-of-range for many a family.

The office space out back is nearly finished. We were hoping to have an inaugural ceremony for the birthday boy of the house yet that might not happen before I leave the area.  

Damp air circulates thru the house. Homes are not insulated at all and I can see the cracks of air coming through the gaps. The majority of houses are made of hollow brick and cement material is slathered over the top. Quite a number of new homes sit unfinished for months on end waiting for who knows what to occur before the construction begins again. On this relatively small street alone, five houses are in various stages of assembly. Large piles of sand and gravel sit out front, blocking the side of the street making two cars passing one another impossible. The startled driver must drive backwards to arrive at an opening sufficient for the other to go by. Makes for an adventure after dark!

Brick vs glass houses

March 5, 2013

A stretch of ten days of rain is expected. My last days near the beach and I will have to wade along the slushy sand to arrive at the Dunes. Layers of clothing, bright orange peds with my flip flops like the Japanese custom. Pinching my toes a bit but that can’t be helped.

The private transport van arrived with Theo who is animated and chatty about the events at school. He gets picked-up first promptly at 6:10am and dropped off last at 12:30. First graders thru High Schoolers attend class for four hours per day. Statistically the Brasilians rank high in academics in the world. Theo begins English classes this year in fourth grade. He attends a public school attached to the University system which is difficult to get into. The van driver collects six and drops one off at another school along the same route. Denise pays R$750 per month for this convenience. First day of class the group of teachers sang and played instruments to greet the students back to school. I noticed the men were strumming and the singers were all women! Many parents were there to take their kids to school though I understand many of them are met at school and driven home by private companies. The neighbor boy attends Anaba, a Waldorf School that started class a few weeks ago. They continue to adhere to the rules that Taelor lived by ten years ago-no television, no computers, no mirrors in the school, each child learns to knit, embroider and play violin or flute as well as learn two idioms aside from their native language. The students have the same teacher from first thru 12^th grade. The tuition is very high and is out-of-range for many a family.

The office space out back is nearly finished. We were hoping to have an inaugural ceremony for the birthday boy of the house yet that might not happen before I leave the area.  

Damp air circulates thru the house. Homes are not insulated at all and I can see the cracks of air coming through the gaps. The majority of houses are made of hollow brick and cement material is slathered over the top. Quite a number of new homes sit unfinished for months on end waiting for who knows what to occur before the construction begins again. On this relatively small street alone, five houses are in various stages of assembly. Large piles of sand and gravel sit out front, blocking the side of the street making two cars passing one another impossible. The startled driver must drive backwards to arrive at an opening sufficient for the other to go by. Makes for an adventure after dark!

Caca saves the day!

March 4, 2013

2 of 2

Roberto cut off the tip of his right index finger. It looks like a charred plastic digit, puffy and under the weather. He has continued working despite getting hurt on the job while cutting a large piece of timber to prop the foundation in the renovated bathroom. Roberto has a chatty wife, Carolina and son who’s timidity is covered with shocking pink hair. Ricardo is working on an application on-line to be accepted to a Cosmetology Program in London for a year. He is obviously anxious to get out of the partially constructed house, ceiling tiles exposed, walls extend halfway up the middle of the rooms, rough bricks glare at us from all four sides and get away from his three young girlie girl cousins who live in the house with their underemployed mother. 

The dog has three legs, born that way, so I understand. An elderly woman crept out from one of the back rooms to join us on the walkway. She didn’t seem to comprehend my story, kept repeating to the sisters that I live in the States and that I WANT to live there, that my ENTIRE family lives there too! Why don’t I want to live in Brasil? What do I DO there? I am not the only one lost in my conversations! I draw everyone into the confusion. I suppose it stems from answering questions that weren’t asked and not responding to the ones that were! As you can see, this can go ‘round and ‘round for hours. Quite fun after a beer or two.

The gang we stayed with has one structure in front of the lot and a smaller one within spitting distance out the back door. Lea married Andre and they have a boy and girl. Five years after the happy couple walked down the aisle, he left her to live with another woman. Andre’s mother’s younger sister has now taken in Lea and the two children. No one knows how Lea is surviving since she complains about not having any money yet is “decked out to the nine’s,” as my mom used to say, hair and nails perfect, luxurious pricey labels grace her back and Brasilian butt. Thin as a twist tie in her jean shorts and white tank, suede high heels and died blond hair pulled tightly in a bun at the back of her twig head. Whines project from her mouth in a perfect “O” while she prepares her seven year old daughter’s coffee. Loads of cream and sugar with a dribble of thick black singed coffee.

The last time Pedro, Lea’s son was in Florianopolis, he played with Legos for the first time. He was enthralled with the bright colored blocks. Katia promised him a set for his birthday. Pedro’s 6^th birthday came and went and the squares never appeared. Katia explained that she had not forgotten her promise but clarified that when she has enough money to buy the set she will do so and bring them along the next time they visit. The next day we approached the block house, Pedro was seated on the cement steps in front with a R$20 bill in his hands. He asked Katia’s son Rafael how much the Lego set costs and made it clear he had borrowed the cash from his Caca (granny) to buy them since Katia is too poor.

Puppy (pronounced like poopy) a tubby peanut-shaped female Chihuahua and her offspring, a brown and white four month old, slender Bella race through the house, bouncing off furniture and jump onto laps and lick faces whether you like it or not. NOT! Problematic to fling the mutts off my knees without appearing like an appalling abusive foreign guest. Killing off the ankle-biters would not go over well so I pet and tussled with them until they dropped with exhaustion on Pedro’s prone stomach. Makes me long for my husky 100# dog back in Minnesota. Now THAT is a REAL dog!

Roaches ravage refrig

March 3, 2013

Happy Birthday Annamarie!

1 of 2

The Blonde Bash (93 Germans, their spouses and me) was a big hit given it was the coolest place in town with the air-conditioning blasting to accompany the elevator music. Loaded with bowl-cut light-haired women in oversized floral print dresses wearing sensible shoes, gift bags in hand that surely masked the cotton, high buttoned nightgowns, hand embroidered dish towels, croqueted mute-colored slippers, bars of scented soaps and hand lotions, quaint toilet paper covers and other purposeful presents. The men varied from tall and slender with George Hamilton tans and professional attire to short and stocky, casually dressed in cotton t-shirts blaring beer insignias with cancer-stick voices who hovered around the bar. Smorgasbord presented far more vegetables than I imagined as well as tender cuts of beef, smoldering chicken pieces and creamed toppings of some sort. The cakes were extra yummy. Who doesn’t love a good piece of cake?

The 76 year-old birthday girl insisted no beer would be served at the tables yet the waiters eventually relinquished their rule and the lagers stacked up. Cameras flashed throughout the event while I caught rumors of car crashes, shotgun weddings, mastectomy surgery recovery stories, why Barbara looks as though her cat died with eyes all puffy and red, who was stabbing whom behind their back, what happened when Bob dropped out of college for the third time, Stacey is taking care of her granddaughter since her son is a deadbeat, when dad left mom with ten children under the age of 13…it was a novella-come-to-life! I was under the impression it would be a lost afternoon but little did I know just how exciting life is in this small town.

The hip women wore jean shorts rolled up at the bottom, loose flowing wild print tops, gobs of gold jewelry, larger-than-her-head hoop earrings and break-your-neck high heels. It was wonderful.

Two kisses (one on each cheek hello) and a big hug hello and “Nice to meet you.” Two identical kisses and a waft of beer with a hug goodbye and “It was a pleasure.”  

One week remaining in Florianopolis and I am already feeling wiped-out after a restless night of snapping towels at cockroaches invading the kitchen while I slept in the next room.

To market, to market

March 2, 2013

It was a spectacular morning in town with the Brasilian crowds who rush off to work from areas far from the city. Vendors set up their artisan wares under white awnings before the stores open at 9:00am. Men sit around cement tables that have a checkerboard design painted over the top. Others crowd around to watch. The common Native Indian women lie on a colorful blanket with their children surrounded by carved animals that resemble monkeys, giraffes, tigers, anteaters, local birds and owls. Rattles and woven bracelets rim the area with baskets set in front for donations. Toddlers and infants scramble on the tiled street closed to cars. Pedestrians scuttle by without a glance at the women nor children.

I was off to hawk my last dollars. Men with fanny packs sit on the periphery of the cluster of banks on the main drag. In the past there were quite a few characters, today only two to choose from. I select and approach the man sitting on a child’s lime green chair on the corner. Feels a bit like a drug deal from the movies whispering price and quantity, money changing hands in the blink of an eye without much conversation. It is incredible how much cash in both dollars and reais this man carries on his waist. He couldn’t hold the folded bills in one hand.

Had time to kill before meeting up with my ride so I meander thru the multiple booths at the Praca Quinze selling everything from plastic trinkets, luggage, cookies, fish, wooden items, shoes, herbs, and all hanging from every imaginable space. Hard to absorb it all so I wander through the maze several times getting turned around while looking for the bathroom which costs R$1 to use. Pass through the turnstile and grab the wad of toilet paper from the antique woman sitting at her table collecting the coins. It is clean  as a whistle and calm, safe and cool in the wall-to-wall white tile.

A hit of dark rich sugar with coffee and munch on a cheesy roll at the nearby stand satisfies my hunger while I wait and look and absorb the culture that I so adore. A few hours of mingling makes me extremely happy and lighthearted. I will miss this place and do intend to return prior to ten years down the road.

Off to Blumenau this afternoon to be with the family for an overnight and lunch celebration of “mom’s” 76^th birthday.

It is hottish and windy for the few hours drive. An eating extravaganza with 95 Germans and me! It will certainly be another lesson in efficiency. I will take notes.