Fashion bug

March 9, 2013

My toenails are lemon yellow on purpose. I long for the day when I can wear clothes to express my mood creatively versus selecting from the few items I line up on the single shelf in the guest room. If I imagine myself at my friend Paula’s wedding today, I realize ground-in red dirt colored flip flops and a black tennis skirt with a simple cotton top just won’t cut it! When I packed my one personal piece of luggage in October for the trip south I grabbed items that were farm-appropriate and later ditch or donate, not considering one bit the third largest city in the world’s (Sao Paulo) every day trendy attire. Chic, classy, grace the fashion magazine craze, flashy strappy foot attire and perfectly coiffed hair styles and Botox for the face and neck. Not to mention how the women dress! I skip the wedding ceremony, obviously!

Ages ago I was the proprietor of an international Exchange Program for students from Brasil, Spain, Japan and Hong Kong. After all of these years of keeping in touch with “F”, one of my better behaved foreign exchange students, I have the chance to see him again. He lives in the Sao Paulo metropolis and will collect me from the Congonhas airport tomorrow. He was a very charming humble teen and I cannot wait to see him again after all these years playing the role as a husband and father of two boys.  

Tonight is Joao’s birthday celebration and, sadly, my going away party. We made a lot of pastels (like a savory turnover) of beef, mozzarella cheese and tomato as well as garlicy broccoli  Dessert is strawberries with egg white cookies melting in a pot of whipped crème. Delicious!

A flurry of day-long scrubbing, cleaning, sorting, slurping up puddles from water leaks, electricity went out three times in the middle of grab your two canaries and run for the Ark torrential rain. A few of us got in a nap (not me!) and were raring to go. I feel a bit droopy and inconsistent.

My carry-on allowance is 10 kilos and check-in can be 50 pounds. Pretty sure I am over limit so I have to hope for a sympathetic agent. Wish me luck!

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!

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!