So this afternoon after I finally got two hours more sleep from my sleepless overnight flight, I head to my doctor's appointment. It is bad, but I have not gotten a doctor in Brazil yet. I need to and will be looking for them when I return.
As I head down the main thoroughfare to the highway, I am impressed with myself. I am driving 50 mhp. This is actually the top speed I have driven in the past six months. It usually averages around 25 though. In Brazil, the highway speed limit is 90 kmph, which is about 55. The highest I have seen it is 120 kmph out in the interior. That is about 72 mph. And it actually feels fast when you are driving it. Maybe it is because the number is so high - 120? I don't know. Anyway, I get on the highway and wow. My car will not go over 70. And that was pushing it. Once the dial hit about 68, my foot automatically pulled back. What is going on? Okay, let's try loud music. I did not have my boys in the car so I turned on 105.9, the classic rock station in South Florida, put on my sunglasses, and adjusted the power seats. Well, that did it. Then on the radio came George Thorogood's "Bad to the Bone." That petal hit 75 and I was flying! (Okay, maybe it was more like 72. But still, it felt really fast!) All to way to the doctor's office in the "Disneyland town" of Weston, FL in my husband's Honda Accord. Maybe I should have opened the sun roof. I might have gotten another 5 mph out of my foot.
The great thing was that on the way home, okay this time the speedometer was closer to 70. Well U2 was on the radio. You can't speed to U2. Anyway, I am "jamming" to U2 doing my mach speed of 70 mph, when behind me pulls up a man in a truck. I kindly get into the slower lane without slowing down, that would be too embarrassing, and let him pass. What kind of truck was he driving? Well as he passed, I got a great look at it, even at the supersonic speed I was doing. The truck passing me was an empty landscaping hauler with a 30 foot trailer hitched to the back. He had to be going a warp speed of about 75-80.
Something is just wrong with this picture, isn't there?
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Travelling in South America
Travelling within South America is an interesting experience. We have been fortunate enough to fly several times. However, our Peru trip was the first to travel within South America from Brazil. None of what I write is an exaggeration. Not even this story.
So we get to the airport to catch our flight. Oh thank you LAN for cancelling the plane. We could have gotten American Airlines miles because you are a partner and it is a really long flight - 5 hours. But noooo, you move us to TAM who does not give us miles. Oh and we almost don't have seats either. Yes, thank you.
Now we got second row behind first class (row 6) for most of the flights. Also, I got aisle every flight as well. You would think that I would appreciate this, and I would if it was a US flight. But no. First of all, on the first flight out of Brazil the lady sitting in bulkhead (first row) who does not have a place to put her bags yells at me in Portuguese that I need to move my bag so she would have a place for her stuff under her seat. I have no idea what she is saying so I call for my husband's assistance. He comes to my defense and they proceed to argue back and forth about the placement of her bags. We won of course. Second, I have never in my life have had so many butts and fronts shoved in my face or rubbed along my shoulder while people were walking down a plane aisle. EXCUSE ME! I am sitting here. You can respect my personal space and get your fat butt out of it! Oh yes, and thank you old guy on the plane back to Brazil for passing gas RIGHT in my face! That was lovely. I hope you enjoyed your beans for lunch.
You would think that would be the end of it right? Well no. Why would it be the end? It is just getting good! On one flight I gave my youngest the aisle thinking that he is short in the seat and would not have the same butt problem that I did. No, they just leaned in more because there was more room. Sorry baby! Oh and let us not forget the guy who was in a rush to get off and opened the overhead bin to get his bags; not take care to move someone else's computer bag out of his way; allow it to fall on my son's head; look over at my crying child, because really it was a laptop computer after all, and turn around; all without apologizing. Now the guy whose bag it was felt really bad about it and checked on us. But the other guy? Nope, which is why I said something derogatory really loud about rude people who do not apologize.
Okay, so we are on our way back to Brazil after an amazing vacation. Oh hey, we got to stand in line 20 minutes before we were told that once again LAN cancelled the flight and we get to go on TAM again out of Lima. Thank you again for the lack of miles! So we get to the counter and it takes another 20 minutes because they did not have seats for us. I booked this 4 months ago. I better have seats. Okay so they find us seats. We each get an aisle, yey, in consecutive rows, two in row 6 (second row again) and two in row 7. Will this turn out well? Hmm. So let's board. We walk onto the plane and there is someone sitting in my seat. I guess the couple did not want the window. There is no way I want it either except for the protection from the butts maybe. However, my son was next to me across the aisle so I politely said, "Excuse me you are in my seat." The response I get was "Okay, okay calm down." Umm, what? I believe I was very polite, with a smile no less. Whatever. So I sit down. "Excuse me is this your purse under the seat?" Thinking she forgot to move it. No. The lady in bulkhead turns around immediately and asks,"Do you have a problem?" Obviously she was ready for an argument. She came to the right place!
"Well your purse is under the seat in my space."
"No I have no where to put my bag. That is my space." She says motioning to her lack of compartments in front of her and basically dismissing me. No way lady! At that my husband comes to my rescue again. "No, that is her space and you need to put your things above you." She holds up her hands like she is warding off a violent person."You do not have to be so rude. Calm down please, I have no space for my things and yadda, yadda, yadda." And she stands up.
"Um ma'am, I was not being impolite to you." And my husband looks like he is ready to punch her from his seated position behind me.
"So are you going to get your purse?" I ask.
"I don't have the problem. You do. You can get it from there if you want it moved." Yeah, I do!
I was ready to say - why because you are too lazy to bend over you b***h and think you are better than other people and should get whatever you want? But I restrained myself. It was not easy let me tell you. I politely picked it up; I handed it to her and smiled. You should be very proud of this because at this point the lady I kicked out of my seat and the meanie are talking about Ricardo and I in Portuguese. I did not catch all of it, and neither did my husband. But I let her know is a subtle way that I could understand two other languages and I was not a rude American. Well maybe the rude part was right because my husband and I proceeded to talk about them and how rude they were, in a tone loud enough for both sets of meanies to hear. We made the French guy next to my youngest laugh. I also wanted to comment to her that I knew how to curse people. I mean my mother cursed me with children just like me, and it worked. How hard could it be right? But instead I wrote a Haiku in her honor. See I can be very polite.
You wanted my space.
You had no place for your bag.
Too bad old biddy!
So we get to the airport to catch our flight. Oh thank you LAN for cancelling the plane. We could have gotten American Airlines miles because you are a partner and it is a really long flight - 5 hours. But noooo, you move us to TAM who does not give us miles. Oh and we almost don't have seats either. Yes, thank you.
Now we got second row behind first class (row 6) for most of the flights. Also, I got aisle every flight as well. You would think that I would appreciate this, and I would if it was a US flight. But no. First of all, on the first flight out of Brazil the lady sitting in bulkhead (first row) who does not have a place to put her bags yells at me in Portuguese that I need to move my bag so she would have a place for her stuff under her seat. I have no idea what she is saying so I call for my husband's assistance. He comes to my defense and they proceed to argue back and forth about the placement of her bags. We won of course. Second, I have never in my life have had so many butts and fronts shoved in my face or rubbed along my shoulder while people were walking down a plane aisle. EXCUSE ME! I am sitting here. You can respect my personal space and get your fat butt out of it! Oh yes, and thank you old guy on the plane back to Brazil for passing gas RIGHT in my face! That was lovely. I hope you enjoyed your beans for lunch.
You would think that would be the end of it right? Well no. Why would it be the end? It is just getting good! On one flight I gave my youngest the aisle thinking that he is short in the seat and would not have the same butt problem that I did. No, they just leaned in more because there was more room. Sorry baby! Oh and let us not forget the guy who was in a rush to get off and opened the overhead bin to get his bags; not take care to move someone else's computer bag out of his way; allow it to fall on my son's head; look over at my crying child, because really it was a laptop computer after all, and turn around; all without apologizing. Now the guy whose bag it was felt really bad about it and checked on us. But the other guy? Nope, which is why I said something derogatory really loud about rude people who do not apologize.
Okay, so we are on our way back to Brazil after an amazing vacation. Oh hey, we got to stand in line 20 minutes before we were told that once again LAN cancelled the flight and we get to go on TAM again out of Lima. Thank you again for the lack of miles! So we get to the counter and it takes another 20 minutes because they did not have seats for us. I booked this 4 months ago. I better have seats. Okay so they find us seats. We each get an aisle, yey, in consecutive rows, two in row 6 (second row again) and two in row 7. Will this turn out well? Hmm. So let's board. We walk onto the plane and there is someone sitting in my seat. I guess the couple did not want the window. There is no way I want it either except for the protection from the butts maybe. However, my son was next to me across the aisle so I politely said, "Excuse me you are in my seat." The response I get was "Okay, okay calm down." Umm, what? I believe I was very polite, with a smile no less. Whatever. So I sit down. "Excuse me is this your purse under the seat?" Thinking she forgot to move it. No. The lady in bulkhead turns around immediately and asks,"Do you have a problem?" Obviously she was ready for an argument. She came to the right place!
"Well your purse is under the seat in my space."
"No I have no where to put my bag. That is my space." She says motioning to her lack of compartments in front of her and basically dismissing me. No way lady! At that my husband comes to my rescue again. "No, that is her space and you need to put your things above you." She holds up her hands like she is warding off a violent person."You do not have to be so rude. Calm down please, I have no space for my things and yadda, yadda, yadda." And she stands up.
"Um ma'am, I was not being impolite to you." And my husband looks like he is ready to punch her from his seated position behind me.
"So are you going to get your purse?" I ask.
"I don't have the problem. You do. You can get it from there if you want it moved." Yeah, I do!
I was ready to say - why because you are too lazy to bend over you b***h and think you are better than other people and should get whatever you want? But I restrained myself. It was not easy let me tell you. I politely picked it up; I handed it to her and smiled. You should be very proud of this because at this point the lady I kicked out of my seat and the meanie are talking about Ricardo and I in Portuguese. I did not catch all of it, and neither did my husband. But I let her know is a subtle way that I could understand two other languages and I was not a rude American. Well maybe the rude part was right because my husband and I proceeded to talk about them and how rude they were, in a tone loud enough for both sets of meanies to hear. We made the French guy next to my youngest laugh. I also wanted to comment to her that I knew how to curse people. I mean my mother cursed me with children just like me, and it worked. How hard could it be right? But instead I wrote a Haiku in her honor. See I can be very polite.
You wanted my space.
You had no place for your bag.
Too bad old biddy!
Saturday, June 25, 2011
The Girl Who Was Allergic To Wool
There once was a girl who was allergic to wool. Let's call her, I don't know, Jennifer. That makes it easy. So whenever Jennifer touched wool, or anything with lanolin in it for that matter, her hands would swell up and turn bright red and would burn. If she smelled wool, her nose would get stuffy and her eyes would itch. Not a pretty sight. So there was definitely no going into Banana Republic Stores in the winter!
One day she decided to book a trip for her family to Peru. They wanted to see Macchu Pichu and Cusco, and the other pretty cities of the country. Little did she realize, or think about it actually, that the main textile in the ENTIRE country is, yes you guessed it, wool. You can get Alpaca, Llama, or regular old sheep there. And it is in EVERY STORE! Not to mention that it was winter when she booked this trip.
So off they went to Peru. The first hotel the family hit really brought the problem forward. Well it is winter in Peru, so what does a hotel do that does not have central heating, only space heaters? Well they put wool blankets on the beds silly! Then there is also the wool rug, the wool wall hangings, the wool blanket-like decoration for the bed. Oh and all the microscopic wool fibers floating in the air. Yeah! Her first few nights were torture. It was very difficult to breath in that environment, but add to it another 10,000 feet in elevation so that the oxygen was thinner. Well then due to that she needed to breathe deeper to get in more air. She had an easier time in the few (read one) hotel that did not use wool blankets.
Oh, and of course Jennifer wanted to souvenir shop. So off they went to the market. Well, in some streets the market came to you. But what did each store have? Wool hats, scarves, ponchos, sweaters, you name it. It was easier in the markets though since they were open air. But no touching the merchandise was not just a slogan for her. I guess it made it easier on her husband's wallet though. Most things she could not buy. Lucky him right?
Well I felt bad for this Jennifer. So, since I have Irish descendants, I decided to write her a limerick. My ancestors did not come from there, which is why it is a really bad poem, but I gave it a good college try. Before you read it though, one, I had to change here name; and two, I would like to apologize to my Spanish speaking readers. Yes, my Spanish adjective is not gender correct. But then it would not rhyme if I did that...
There once was a girl named Coco.
She felt like she was going loco.
She was allergic to wool, but went to Peru.
And now her nose is all stuffed with moco. (For the non-Spanish speaker, that would be boogers).
One day she decided to book a trip for her family to Peru. They wanted to see Macchu Pichu and Cusco, and the other pretty cities of the country. Little did she realize, or think about it actually, that the main textile in the ENTIRE country is, yes you guessed it, wool. You can get Alpaca, Llama, or regular old sheep there. And it is in EVERY STORE! Not to mention that it was winter when she booked this trip.
So off they went to Peru. The first hotel the family hit really brought the problem forward. Well it is winter in Peru, so what does a hotel do that does not have central heating, only space heaters? Well they put wool blankets on the beds silly! Then there is also the wool rug, the wool wall hangings, the wool blanket-like decoration for the bed. Oh and all the microscopic wool fibers floating in the air. Yeah! Her first few nights were torture. It was very difficult to breath in that environment, but add to it another 10,000 feet in elevation so that the oxygen was thinner. Well then due to that she needed to breathe deeper to get in more air. She had an easier time in the few (read one) hotel that did not use wool blankets.
Oh, and of course Jennifer wanted to souvenir shop. So off they went to the market. Well, in some streets the market came to you. But what did each store have? Wool hats, scarves, ponchos, sweaters, you name it. It was easier in the markets though since they were open air. But no touching the merchandise was not just a slogan for her. I guess it made it easier on her husband's wallet though. Most things she could not buy. Lucky him right?
Well I felt bad for this Jennifer. So, since I have Irish descendants, I decided to write her a limerick. My ancestors did not come from there, which is why it is a really bad poem, but I gave it a good college try. Before you read it though, one, I had to change here name; and two, I would like to apologize to my Spanish speaking readers. Yes, my Spanish adjective is not gender correct. But then it would not rhyme if I did that...
There once was a girl named Coco.
She felt like she was going loco.
She was allergic to wool, but went to Peru.
And now her nose is all stuffed with moco. (For the non-Spanish speaker, that would be boogers).
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
A Year in the life...
We are coming up on living in Sao Paulo a year. Well we have two months left, but I and the boys are escaping to, I mean visiting the good old USA for the winter, well summer, well whatever. The season differences have really thrown us off. It is June here and winter. While my mind wants me to wear T's and flip flops, my body says "Hold on a minute there lady, are you crazy? It's like 50 degrees!" That is not the only thing that has thrown us though. Driving, taxis, traffic, pollution, food, freedoms. You name it, you need to adjust. So I have decided to make a Sao Paulo Survival List for those who want to live through, I mean enjoy their experience here.
Driving:
Depending on the time of day and the amount of traffic, you can actually make your own lane or drive in two lanes if you want. You can also take about one mile to change lanes and you don't need to use your turn signal to do this. If you find that you are in the right lane but need to turn left, just stick you hand out your window and give the thumbs up to the driver next to you and they will let you turn. You actually don't need to do all that, you really can just turn in front of everybody. But watch out, the person in the left lane is most likely doing the same thing but in the opposite direction while the person in the middle just wants to go straight. Or there can be any combination of this at any given time. If you miss your turn, it is perfectly okay to stop, reverse and get to where you want to go. Buses like to cut in front of you for no reason at all. And taxis will miss your car by a few inches to get around you because you are not driving fast enough for them.
Food:
Dinner here starts, at the earliest, 7 pm. This is difficult if you want to go to a restaurant and your children still want to go to bed at 7:30, or need to in the case of my children. We are still used to eating at 5:30. I have not been able to stretch it farther than 6pm at home. Brazilians think this is crazy. "What, you are eating again at 5:30? But lunch was just over at 2:30. How can you be hungry again?" Our food clock must be set in stone. We get up at 6 am, which is crazy to a Brazilian also, eat breakfast and are hungry at lunchtime, which for every sane person is noon. Sometimes I can give the boys a big snack after school to hold them over, and sometimes they have two dinners. No wonder they are growing so big!
The food here is different, but very delicious. You need to watch out though because it can be very salty or very sweet. My maid ate a meatloaf I made a liked it, but she said there was not much taste to it. So she proceeded to cover it with salt until the ENTIRE PIECE was white. True story. You can find a lot of substitutes for food you eat in your home country, with the exception of JIF Peanut Butter and Cheerios. Those are one of a kind. You can buy expensive imports if you want, though. I have bought a $10 jar of dill pickles, $5 package of taco seasoning, and $5 bags of goldfish. I will not buy the $12 bag of Campfire marshmallows though. I draw the line there.
And I am still not used to cooking with gas and Celsius. Or my oven is not calibrated correctly. I am burning everything. I need to pick up and oven thermometer while away. I think that will help.
School:
Depending on where your children go, international, British or American, you will get slightly different experiences. We are at a British school. You do not get a class list. There is usually a child of someone famous in the class. But you do not know who, nor does it matter to you. Usually because you personally did not know that this was a famous person. Your child could also be asked to travel with a friend's family on their private jet for a weekend in Aspen. True story, not for us though. At a British school, for an American, you need to learn new spelling. The letter U tends to show up in words that are not supposed to have them. But do not tell your children that it is because the British can't spell. That will come back at you fast. Oops! Or better yet, your eight year old can come home and ask for a rubber. What do you want? Ah, in British English a rubber is an eraser. Got it.
Fashion:
This is hard because you cannot look like a comfy American mom while out and about. You will look like the homeless people here. Or if you think you are dressy, usually you look like the maids coming into work or leaving. They are snazzy dressers. No you have to be top notch all the time - hair done, makeup on, skin tight jeans or Brady Bunch length skirts/dresses. Oh and sky-high heels. Most of the time this is not me. I think the doormen do not understand how I can live here with the way I dress. Jeans and a T is my wardrobe. Doesn't fly too often. We had a changeover of our complex security company while we were away at Christmas time. I had to convince the new guys that yes, I actually did live here. As I write this I am in jeans, my hot pink penguin T, lime green socks, slipper mules, and a grey hoodie. My hair is not done, nor do I have on makeup. It will take me about two hours to look Brazilian presentable today. Yeah, don't think so.
Another part to this, I figure, is sexuality. The bikinis are tiny, and you will see interesting lingerie in the windows of stores. My boys love that I think. And you will see butts or boobs on TV. it is not a big deal here, so we try not to make it a big deal either. That does not mean that my boys will walk into a Victoria's Secret with me ever again. But it is a good way to teach them respect for their body and for other people's as well.
Freedoms:
This is the hardest to get used to. Heck, In the US you can drive with your windows down. Here if you do you run the risk of someone pulling a gun through your window to demand your car or wallet. And still I forget sometimes to the frustration of my husband. So remember these please: Do not walk out of your house with all of your money in your purse. Hide some in other places so that if you get mugged at gun point, they don't take everything you have. You can also bargain with the mugger if you want to risk it. You can ask for your documents and keys, or ask to just hand over all the cash. They don't want your ID anyway. Do not wear a watch or jewelry. I put on a nice necklace once I am in a restaurant, but never before. And I take it off before I get to the valet. Always valet your car. Every restaurant and bakery has a valet. If you can, valet. Don't speak anything but Portuguese on the streets out loud. If you need to speak English, speak low or whisper (it is better inside a mall, but still be careful). Do not use your cell phone on the street, you are just asking for someone to steal it. Do not speak a lot of English in a taxi. Yes, they are your driver, but that does not mean they do not want to make an extra buck. Have a code with your family if you are under duress.
Pollution:
June is the month of being sick. The colder weather and cloudy skies trap the pollution. So hello coughing! If you leave SP, you will get sick on the way back in because you cleaned your lungs out and then they get refilled with the guck. A true statistic for you: Paulistas on average live three years less due to the pollution in the air and water. Sometimes you can actually taste it. And with the smell of the river you can grind it in your teeth and savor it. Yummo!
With all of this we actually enjoy living here and experiencing Sao Paulo. We are meeting some of the nicest people ever, and we are making great friends that we can keep when we go where ever next. I am looking forward to home though. I need my Target fix and my Macy's fix.
Now I am off to the store looking like trash to get dinner for tonight that I will most likely burn. Good thing the frozen pizzas here are delicious!
Driving:
Depending on the time of day and the amount of traffic, you can actually make your own lane or drive in two lanes if you want. You can also take about one mile to change lanes and you don't need to use your turn signal to do this. If you find that you are in the right lane but need to turn left, just stick you hand out your window and give the thumbs up to the driver next to you and they will let you turn. You actually don't need to do all that, you really can just turn in front of everybody. But watch out, the person in the left lane is most likely doing the same thing but in the opposite direction while the person in the middle just wants to go straight. Or there can be any combination of this at any given time. If you miss your turn, it is perfectly okay to stop, reverse and get to where you want to go. Buses like to cut in front of you for no reason at all. And taxis will miss your car by a few inches to get around you because you are not driving fast enough for them.
Food:
Dinner here starts, at the earliest, 7 pm. This is difficult if you want to go to a restaurant and your children still want to go to bed at 7:30, or need to in the case of my children. We are still used to eating at 5:30. I have not been able to stretch it farther than 6pm at home. Brazilians think this is crazy. "What, you are eating again at 5:30? But lunch was just over at 2:30. How can you be hungry again?" Our food clock must be set in stone. We get up at 6 am, which is crazy to a Brazilian also, eat breakfast and are hungry at lunchtime, which for every sane person is noon. Sometimes I can give the boys a big snack after school to hold them over, and sometimes they have two dinners. No wonder they are growing so big!
The food here is different, but very delicious. You need to watch out though because it can be very salty or very sweet. My maid ate a meatloaf I made a liked it, but she said there was not much taste to it. So she proceeded to cover it with salt until the ENTIRE PIECE was white. True story. You can find a lot of substitutes for food you eat in your home country, with the exception of JIF Peanut Butter and Cheerios. Those are one of a kind. You can buy expensive imports if you want, though. I have bought a $10 jar of dill pickles, $5 package of taco seasoning, and $5 bags of goldfish. I will not buy the $12 bag of Campfire marshmallows though. I draw the line there.
And I am still not used to cooking with gas and Celsius. Or my oven is not calibrated correctly. I am burning everything. I need to pick up and oven thermometer while away. I think that will help.
School:
Depending on where your children go, international, British or American, you will get slightly different experiences. We are at a British school. You do not get a class list. There is usually a child of someone famous in the class. But you do not know who, nor does it matter to you. Usually because you personally did not know that this was a famous person. Your child could also be asked to travel with a friend's family on their private jet for a weekend in Aspen. True story, not for us though. At a British school, for an American, you need to learn new spelling. The letter U tends to show up in words that are not supposed to have them. But do not tell your children that it is because the British can't spell. That will come back at you fast. Oops! Or better yet, your eight year old can come home and ask for a rubber. What do you want? Ah, in British English a rubber is an eraser. Got it.
Fashion:
This is hard because you cannot look like a comfy American mom while out and about. You will look like the homeless people here. Or if you think you are dressy, usually you look like the maids coming into work or leaving. They are snazzy dressers. No you have to be top notch all the time - hair done, makeup on, skin tight jeans or Brady Bunch length skirts/dresses. Oh and sky-high heels. Most of the time this is not me. I think the doormen do not understand how I can live here with the way I dress. Jeans and a T is my wardrobe. Doesn't fly too often. We had a changeover of our complex security company while we were away at Christmas time. I had to convince the new guys that yes, I actually did live here. As I write this I am in jeans, my hot pink penguin T, lime green socks, slipper mules, and a grey hoodie. My hair is not done, nor do I have on makeup. It will take me about two hours to look Brazilian presentable today. Yeah, don't think so.
Another part to this, I figure, is sexuality. The bikinis are tiny, and you will see interesting lingerie in the windows of stores. My boys love that I think. And you will see butts or boobs on TV. it is not a big deal here, so we try not to make it a big deal either. That does not mean that my boys will walk into a Victoria's Secret with me ever again. But it is a good way to teach them respect for their body and for other people's as well.
Freedoms:
This is the hardest to get used to. Heck, In the US you can drive with your windows down. Here if you do you run the risk of someone pulling a gun through your window to demand your car or wallet. And still I forget sometimes to the frustration of my husband. So remember these please: Do not walk out of your house with all of your money in your purse. Hide some in other places so that if you get mugged at gun point, they don't take everything you have. You can also bargain with the mugger if you want to risk it. You can ask for your documents and keys, or ask to just hand over all the cash. They don't want your ID anyway. Do not wear a watch or jewelry. I put on a nice necklace once I am in a restaurant, but never before. And I take it off before I get to the valet. Always valet your car. Every restaurant and bakery has a valet. If you can, valet. Don't speak anything but Portuguese on the streets out loud. If you need to speak English, speak low or whisper (it is better inside a mall, but still be careful). Do not use your cell phone on the street, you are just asking for someone to steal it. Do not speak a lot of English in a taxi. Yes, they are your driver, but that does not mean they do not want to make an extra buck. Have a code with your family if you are under duress.
Pollution:
June is the month of being sick. The colder weather and cloudy skies trap the pollution. So hello coughing! If you leave SP, you will get sick on the way back in because you cleaned your lungs out and then they get refilled with the guck. A true statistic for you: Paulistas on average live three years less due to the pollution in the air and water. Sometimes you can actually taste it. And with the smell of the river you can grind it in your teeth and savor it. Yummo!
With all of this we actually enjoy living here and experiencing Sao Paulo. We are meeting some of the nicest people ever, and we are making great friends that we can keep when we go where ever next. I am looking forward to home though. I need my Target fix and my Macy's fix.
Now I am off to the store looking like trash to get dinner for tonight that I will most likely burn. Good thing the frozen pizzas here are delicious!
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