I was originally going to title my last blog "Being Home Sucks, Mom" because now I have to do housework again and I gained eight pounds. Housework is self explanatory since I no longer have a maid. I do have two boys though who are looking to earn money, so I have not had to do too much. It is a $1 a chore at my house. Of course that is as long as it is completed my way. I still rule the roost! The 8 pounds is really not fair. I will blame it on the type of food and the extra processes it goes through here as compared to Brazil, as well as the less eating of fruit since I cannot find good mangoes and any papaya what so ever. I will not blame it on the amount of food I am eating nor the lack of exercise. By the way, I have become adept in the use of wide belts to hide the muffin top. Oh and I can also blame it on my children. Since they are not in school I have to keep them occupied and not killing each other, thus I cannot exercise. I think those are good excuses. Put the blame on someone else I say!
I really enjoy being back. We are still without our sea shipment, but I was smart enough to pack my hairdryer this time. What is funny is that when I got to Brazil I had to use my clothes dryer to dry my hair until our shipment came. As we were leaving we did not have access to a clothes dryer for a week, and I needed to wash undies and such. So I had to use my hair dryer. Ironic isn't it. I think we have about 2 weeks maybe 3 before we see it. That will make it almost three months. Seems about right. We did have to buy a few new pieces of furniture to outfit our house. It is bigger than the ones we've left, hence the money for chore idea. I do love my new house. I can yell at my children without worrying if I am disturbing neighbors. And when we get our piano, I will not have to monitor the times the boys play. Our youngest is now playing trumpet. He is pretty good at it. He can toot that thing all over the house; I don't care. That makes it easy. The boys start school right after Labor Day. None of us can wait. I will party, I mean pray, when they head off hoping they have a good first day. Autumn is starting; a few trees in the neighborhood are turning. I have not had a real winter in four years. I hope the shivering I will do will help in losing some of the 8 pounds.
Yes, I do enjoy being back in the States. Getting things done is so much easier here. Target and Penney's and Macy's have everything I need. I do miss Brazil though. Yes, I have friends still there. I have tried to keep in touch via Facebook and emails, but until school starts it is not easy. Besides the yummy food and friends I am missing, I really miss the warmth of the culture. I have gotten so used to hugging and kissing everybody every time we meet, that it feels weird now not to do that. I know that if I did that here, I would freak people out, "Why are you touching me?!" Bear with me if it happens to you. I have forgotten a thing or two as well. I really have not driven much in two years. Now I have a car. I have gotten out of the car with the keys still in the ignition and the car running, though in park. Oops, I am no longer in a taxi! Luckily I have remembered to put it in park. Otherwise that would have been bad! Oh and that chore thing I mentioned, I have forgotten to do the laundry. "Why is the laundry on the floor and not washed and folded?" Oops, I need to do that. Shoot.
Now I am off to do some of that laundry, run errands, go to the grocery store, monitor summer reading, iron my husband's work clothes, and wash the car. I think that is all I have on the list today. Yep, so good to be back.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Thursday, July 5, 2012
The Last Good-bye...
It has taken me a week to be able to write this. I think I needed that time to re-coop.
Well, we have left Brazil. Our contract ended, and we are going back the the States. My house is packed and gone to the shippers. I hope to see it in about 4 months, though the company thinks it will be here in 6-8 weeks. We will see! Let's see, in the last two weeks I went from a house to an apartment; from the apartment to a hotel; from the hotel to an apartment. We will be in our house next month. So this really does not feel like we are back yet. We are settled but not. It is interesting to feel like you are in a transition period for a month or two.
Our final two weeks in Brazil were filled with "See You Later" parties. I don't like the word goodbye. It is so final, even though I titled this blog with it. So I think we said "see you later" about 10 times. It was very difficult to do. Even now I miss everyone. It doesn't feel like we really left yet. Even though it was an interesting leaving. Unfortunately, my husband had business to complete, so we could not leave together on the same plane. He was heading one place and I was heading to another through JFK. I had nine of the 12 suitcases with me and the kids. That made it interesting. Well let me tell you the whole of it...
In Sao Paulo you need to leave for the airport early, like 4 hours before your flight. This is because the traffic could cause you problems. Sometimes there are accidents, or just major traffic, and you need to account for that. Of course we got to the airport in about an hour. Traffic was bad, but not too bad. So the boys and I have to wait in the airline's club room for two hours before our flight. Yes the club room. We left in style- a very comfy business class! The room was not a problem. The boys got munchies to tide them over and we got to watch very good looking soccer players on the television. Spain against Portugal. I usually root for the team with the cutest players, but it was a wash. They both did. So I rooted for Spain. They won. Yey! Okay, we got to the plane to board. That is when listening skills disappeared. My boys did not want to listen on what seat they had. The flight attendant then brought me a glass of champagne. So I sat by the window and the boys were together in the middle. Bad move. My thought was they could play and have fun. Well. There was a maintenance delay. They did not play and have fun. They argued. So business class got to listen while I tried to rein them in. The flight attendant brought me another glass of champagne. Then I just had to separate them. An hour in the car, two hours in the club room, then 1.5 on the plane waiting for the maintenance crew to finish was just too long for them. Why did they not fix the problem before the flight was supposed to take off? Really people! I was not a happy camper anyway. Did you know that if you are a knitter and leave from Sao Paulo, you can take your knitting needles on board the airplane? That was a shocker to me. I know this because there were two knitters in the two rows in front of me. And yes, they were knitting with wool. Just my luck. Since my boys decided listening wasn't on the agenda, there were no movies allowed to be watched. So they fell asleep and business class was once again quiet.
In the morning we arrive in JFK an hour after scheduled time. So that left us with 50 minutes to get through passport control, luggage, customs, recheck, and re-board. We were up for the challenge. So I asked for a short line in passport, then got to the luggage carousel and waited. Eight minutes later our luggage came out. Okay, two boys, one mom and 9 bags of luggage. How to do this and get through customs? Okay, mom you take the two giant wheely bags, toss the duffel on top and the computer bag, big boy,take the smaller wheely suitcase and the backpack and the carry-on wheely, little boy, take the other back pack and the two wheely duffels. Okay got it! No there was no skycap available, and I did not have the time to go find one nor the money on hand to get a cart. Okay got through customs. Now to recheck the bags. Great. Got in line; made it to the front; cut my hand on a metal thing sticking out of one of the suitcase handles; bled all over the place till I realized I did this. The agent looked horrified that there was blood on my ticket, then tells us we better hurry because we have to get a train to the next terminal. Great. A very nice gentleman helped point is to the correct train for the next terminal. I thought we were home free. We had 15 minutes to get to the plane. No, not home free. In JFK if you are switching terminals you need to go through security again. Luckily for me we were in first class for our next flight. So we got in the line for the first class security. Only one man in front of us, good. Okay, get the computer out of the back pack, get the carry-ons on the belt, get my shoes off, and wait my turn. Got it. Okay, get everything off the belt, get the computer back in the bag, and forget about putting on the shoes. Take them and run! Leave security area, where is our gate? There, okay boys let's book it! We ran to our gate, we had 10 minutes to spare and we were the last to board. Made it!
After about 18 hours (we have figured) of sitting, I think my leg muscles atrophied. But, we all made it. We are here now and together. We will adapt to our new living environment soon I hope. Have we said good-bye to Sao Paulo? I think not. We love the city and its country. There is still the World Cup and the Olympics. Besides, we still have friends there. And even if their contracts expire and they move on, we will still be in touch, where ever they are. Last good-bye? No. More like I will see you later...
Well, we have left Brazil. Our contract ended, and we are going back the the States. My house is packed and gone to the shippers. I hope to see it in about 4 months, though the company thinks it will be here in 6-8 weeks. We will see! Let's see, in the last two weeks I went from a house to an apartment; from the apartment to a hotel; from the hotel to an apartment. We will be in our house next month. So this really does not feel like we are back yet. We are settled but not. It is interesting to feel like you are in a transition period for a month or two.
Our final two weeks in Brazil were filled with "See You Later" parties. I don't like the word goodbye. It is so final, even though I titled this blog with it. So I think we said "see you later" about 10 times. It was very difficult to do. Even now I miss everyone. It doesn't feel like we really left yet. Even though it was an interesting leaving. Unfortunately, my husband had business to complete, so we could not leave together on the same plane. He was heading one place and I was heading to another through JFK. I had nine of the 12 suitcases with me and the kids. That made it interesting. Well let me tell you the whole of it...
In Sao Paulo you need to leave for the airport early, like 4 hours before your flight. This is because the traffic could cause you problems. Sometimes there are accidents, or just major traffic, and you need to account for that. Of course we got to the airport in about an hour. Traffic was bad, but not too bad. So the boys and I have to wait in the airline's club room for two hours before our flight. Yes the club room. We left in style- a very comfy business class! The room was not a problem. The boys got munchies to tide them over and we got to watch very good looking soccer players on the television. Spain against Portugal. I usually root for the team with the cutest players, but it was a wash. They both did. So I rooted for Spain. They won. Yey! Okay, we got to the plane to board. That is when listening skills disappeared. My boys did not want to listen on what seat they had. The flight attendant then brought me a glass of champagne. So I sat by the window and the boys were together in the middle. Bad move. My thought was they could play and have fun. Well. There was a maintenance delay. They did not play and have fun. They argued. So business class got to listen while I tried to rein them in. The flight attendant brought me another glass of champagne. Then I just had to separate them. An hour in the car, two hours in the club room, then 1.5 on the plane waiting for the maintenance crew to finish was just too long for them. Why did they not fix the problem before the flight was supposed to take off? Really people! I was not a happy camper anyway. Did you know that if you are a knitter and leave from Sao Paulo, you can take your knitting needles on board the airplane? That was a shocker to me. I know this because there were two knitters in the two rows in front of me. And yes, they were knitting with wool. Just my luck. Since my boys decided listening wasn't on the agenda, there were no movies allowed to be watched. So they fell asleep and business class was once again quiet.
In the morning we arrive in JFK an hour after scheduled time. So that left us with 50 minutes to get through passport control, luggage, customs, recheck, and re-board. We were up for the challenge. So I asked for a short line in passport, then got to the luggage carousel and waited. Eight minutes later our luggage came out. Okay, two boys, one mom and 9 bags of luggage. How to do this and get through customs? Okay, mom you take the two giant wheely bags, toss the duffel on top and the computer bag, big boy,take the smaller wheely suitcase and the backpack and the carry-on wheely, little boy, take the other back pack and the two wheely duffels. Okay got it! No there was no skycap available, and I did not have the time to go find one nor the money on hand to get a cart. Okay got through customs. Now to recheck the bags. Great. Got in line; made it to the front; cut my hand on a metal thing sticking out of one of the suitcase handles; bled all over the place till I realized I did this. The agent looked horrified that there was blood on my ticket, then tells us we better hurry because we have to get a train to the next terminal. Great. A very nice gentleman helped point is to the correct train for the next terminal. I thought we were home free. We had 15 minutes to get to the plane. No, not home free. In JFK if you are switching terminals you need to go through security again. Luckily for me we were in first class for our next flight. So we got in the line for the first class security. Only one man in front of us, good. Okay, get the computer out of the back pack, get the carry-ons on the belt, get my shoes off, and wait my turn. Got it. Okay, get everything off the belt, get the computer back in the bag, and forget about putting on the shoes. Take them and run! Leave security area, where is our gate? There, okay boys let's book it! We ran to our gate, we had 10 minutes to spare and we were the last to board. Made it!
After about 18 hours (we have figured) of sitting, I think my leg muscles atrophied. But, we all made it. We are here now and together. We will adapt to our new living environment soon I hope. Have we said good-bye to Sao Paulo? I think not. We love the city and its country. There is still the World Cup and the Olympics. Besides, we still have friends there. And even if their contracts expire and they move on, we will still be in touch, where ever they are. Last good-bye? No. More like I will see you later...
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
I Say To-may-toe, You Say To-mo-toe, But It's Really A Persimmon
I love the food in Brazil, especially the fruit. There are so many different varieties of everything. You can buy like 10 different kinds of bananas, 6 different kinds of mangoes, 5 different kinds of oranges. Every week we go to the street market to pick up our fruit and enjoy the bounty. But there are a few that are very confusing at face value.
Take a persimmon for example. Here it is called a Caqui (ka-key). There are a few different kinds, and I like them all. But only when they are not too ripe. It is the James Bond of fruit. (Which means dad, it is a fruit in disguise...) It tastes like a peachy apple with the consistency of a nectarine. But it looks like a tomato. Here is a picture.
See? A tomato; although not very red. If you eat them when they are really ripe they actually have the consistency of a tomato and are not my favorite. Grainy tomato-y pulp that tastes like a peachy apple, it confuses my tastes buds. Plus, I have consistency issues.
See if you can guess this one.
By George, that must be a lime! Actually it is not. But if it was it would be a lime on steroids! This is an orange. Yes, I know it is not orange but green. But trust me, it is an orange. And it makes the best juice you have ever tasted. It is probably the kind of orange that Tropicana buys from Brazil to add it their juices. And it is probably one of the kinds that has the pesticide Carbendazim on it, which is banned in the US, and was found on Brazilian oranges imported to the US in February. But hey, maybe that is why they are so delicious? So far, after two years of drinking fresh squeezed OJ we do not yet have a third arm growing out of our backs. No worries.
I hope I can find fruit I have learned to love back the the States. I will have to search high and low for them, but hopefully I will be successful. Of course, the oranges will be easy...
Take a persimmon for example. Here it is called a Caqui (ka-key). There are a few different kinds, and I like them all. But only when they are not too ripe. It is the James Bond of fruit. (Which means dad, it is a fruit in disguise...) It tastes like a peachy apple with the consistency of a nectarine. But it looks like a tomato. Here is a picture.
See? A tomato; although not very red. If you eat them when they are really ripe they actually have the consistency of a tomato and are not my favorite. Grainy tomato-y pulp that tastes like a peachy apple, it confuses my tastes buds. Plus, I have consistency issues.
See if you can guess this one.
By George, that must be a lime! Actually it is not. But if it was it would be a lime on steroids! This is an orange. Yes, I know it is not orange but green. But trust me, it is an orange. And it makes the best juice you have ever tasted. It is probably the kind of orange that Tropicana buys from Brazil to add it their juices. And it is probably one of the kinds that has the pesticide Carbendazim on it, which is banned in the US, and was found on Brazilian oranges imported to the US in February. But hey, maybe that is why they are so delicious? So far, after two years of drinking fresh squeezed OJ we do not yet have a third arm growing out of our backs. No worries.
I hope I can find fruit I have learned to love back the the States. I will have to search high and low for them, but hopefully I will be successful. Of course, the oranges will be easy...
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Learning English in Brazil
I know what you are thinking by the title. What? That does not make any sense. But this blog is in honor of some wonderful people whom we have met here and actually wanted to be our friends.
We do have some very good friends here. They are English, Scottish and Irish. Not Northern Irish, because they are actually British subjects, but Republic Irish. Which cannot be confused with Republicans. Because they are the IRA. Which also should not be confused with the American Republicans who tend to support the NRA. (Interesting that it is only only letter different.) We have learned many things from these good friends, namely that we use the wrong words to describe things.
First of all I would like to educate you on some of the geography we learned. I think this is correct, but is might not be since I had about a 1/5 of Irish in me at the time. That is whiskey, not a leprechaun. Okay, Great Britain is the island that consists of England, Scotland and Wales. The UK is the United Kingdom which is the island of Great Britain and North Ireland. The British Isles is the UK and the Republic of Ireland. That last one is the once I am still confused on, but I am too lazy to Google it at the moment, so go for it.
I have learned some things in conversing with my friends that make me rethink some of the words I use. It is difficult for me now to ask my boys to find their pants. Pants in British English (B.E.) is underwear. Girls are called knickers, where as ours are panties. Which makes more sense where the word panties comes from I guess. If you really want pant pants, they are trousers. I was shopping with my British friend and she was saying that the sweater (jumper in B.E.) is low so she would need a vest under it. I was thinking a vest? But that goes on top of the sweater, not under. What the heck is she talking about? Okay, a vest in B.E. is a tank or a cami. Ah, okay, makes more sense now. But if a Brit wants a vest vest then that is a waistcoat. To me a waistcoat is when you take off your jacket and tie it around your waist. Speaking of waist, a fannie pack gets Brits really rolling. A fannie in B.E. is the female's who-who (the girly parts down below). A fannie is A.E. is your bum. Just think of how funny it is to say you have a wet fannie to a Brit. Oops, forgot to wipe!
What can be even funnier is when your nine year old asks you for a rubber. Since my boys go to a British based school, this has happened. He is really asking for an eraser. If he needs trainers, it is not guys in the gym helping with weights, it is a pair of gym shoes. Now for your husband. If he is pissed, he is not mad at you, he is drunk. If he is tired, he is knackered. If he is taking a waz, he is peeing. If he is taking a wiz, he is taking a quick trip and will be back in a jiff. I know, so confusing since a wiz in A.E. is actually peeing.
Now for some insults. These are the fun ones because you can use them and, unless the insultee has been to the UK or the Isles or has read my blog, he/she will not understand you. From my last blog you know that numpty is a dumb ass. You can also use gobshite, which is Irish for idiot. Pikies or Piker are Irish gypsies and not a good word to be called. A fag is not a derogatory word. It is actually a cigarette. This threw me at first when my friend's husband went out to have a fag. Excuse me ? We don't use that word, it is rude. Oh wait, got it! A minger is a really ugly female. Interesting that the men did not tell us what an unattractive male is called. Hmm, why is that guys?
As for housing, these are really confusing. A block is not a street block, it is an apartment building. Now the movie "Attack The Block" makes more sense because the monsters were not attacking the block but just one building. Got it! A mezzanine is a loft. A loft is an attic. Your garbage is rubbish, and the can to toss it in is a bin. If you want water you draw the tap not the faucet, but I forgot to ask where the beer came from then. Boots are not on your feet but the trunk of your car. And bonnets are not on your head, but are the hoods of cars.
There are several more, but my brain hurts. I am an easily confused person at times. Just think of me while listening to a conversation in B.E. It is horrid!
We do have some very good friends here. They are English, Scottish and Irish. Not Northern Irish, because they are actually British subjects, but Republic Irish. Which cannot be confused with Republicans. Because they are the IRA. Which also should not be confused with the American Republicans who tend to support the NRA. (Interesting that it is only only letter different.) We have learned many things from these good friends, namely that we use the wrong words to describe things.
First of all I would like to educate you on some of the geography we learned. I think this is correct, but is might not be since I had about a 1/5 of Irish in me at the time. That is whiskey, not a leprechaun. Okay, Great Britain is the island that consists of England, Scotland and Wales. The UK is the United Kingdom which is the island of Great Britain and North Ireland. The British Isles is the UK and the Republic of Ireland. That last one is the once I am still confused on, but I am too lazy to Google it at the moment, so go for it.
I have learned some things in conversing with my friends that make me rethink some of the words I use. It is difficult for me now to ask my boys to find their pants. Pants in British English (B.E.) is underwear. Girls are called knickers, where as ours are panties. Which makes more sense where the word panties comes from I guess. If you really want pant pants, they are trousers. I was shopping with my British friend and she was saying that the sweater (jumper in B.E.) is low so she would need a vest under it. I was thinking a vest? But that goes on top of the sweater, not under. What the heck is she talking about? Okay, a vest in B.E. is a tank or a cami. Ah, okay, makes more sense now. But if a Brit wants a vest vest then that is a waistcoat. To me a waistcoat is when you take off your jacket and tie it around your waist. Speaking of waist, a fannie pack gets Brits really rolling. A fannie in B.E. is the female's who-who (the girly parts down below). A fannie is A.E. is your bum. Just think of how funny it is to say you have a wet fannie to a Brit. Oops, forgot to wipe!
What can be even funnier is when your nine year old asks you for a rubber. Since my boys go to a British based school, this has happened. He is really asking for an eraser. If he needs trainers, it is not guys in the gym helping with weights, it is a pair of gym shoes. Now for your husband. If he is pissed, he is not mad at you, he is drunk. If he is tired, he is knackered. If he is taking a waz, he is peeing. If he is taking a wiz, he is taking a quick trip and will be back in a jiff. I know, so confusing since a wiz in A.E. is actually peeing.
Now for some insults. These are the fun ones because you can use them and, unless the insultee has been to the UK or the Isles or has read my blog, he/she will not understand you. From my last blog you know that numpty is a dumb ass. You can also use gobshite, which is Irish for idiot. Pikies or Piker are Irish gypsies and not a good word to be called. A fag is not a derogatory word. It is actually a cigarette. This threw me at first when my friend's husband went out to have a fag. Excuse me ? We don't use that word, it is rude. Oh wait, got it! A minger is a really ugly female. Interesting that the men did not tell us what an unattractive male is called. Hmm, why is that guys?
As for housing, these are really confusing. A block is not a street block, it is an apartment building. Now the movie "Attack The Block" makes more sense because the monsters were not attacking the block but just one building. Got it! A mezzanine is a loft. A loft is an attic. Your garbage is rubbish, and the can to toss it in is a bin. If you want water you draw the tap not the faucet, but I forgot to ask where the beer came from then. Boots are not on your feet but the trunk of your car. And bonnets are not on your head, but are the hoods of cars.
There are several more, but my brain hurts. I am an easily confused person at times. Just think of me while listening to a conversation in B.E. It is horrid!
Friday, June 1, 2012
My Week of Being a Numpty
I actually had no idea what this word meant. My British friend says it a lot, not to me though. At least not to my face. Yet. So I figured I had better look it up. I do not want Inigo Montoya to say to me, "I don think it means whata you thinka it means." So I went to Google to the British slang dictionary. So it means: dummy, idiot, ninny. That kind of thing. Okay so Inigo was right. I thought it meant dumbass. So I am going to Americanize the word and use it as such. I mean when speaking to your husband, is it better to call him a dumbass in front of his children or a numpty? (Of course I would NEVER do this anyway honey. I love you, baby).
So my week as a numpty started really just a few days ago. I went to lunch with said Numpty-sayer. We had a great time. However, in the middle of the lunch I inadvertently insulted another friend of mine. She was speaking about a tutor at school that her one teen has and that this tutor is useless. Unfortunately her younger teen will get this tutor next year. So as a wonderful friend I mention that she does not need to worry because the younger is smart so he will not really need the tutor. See? Numpty! Whoops. I totally did not means to insult the older child, who is pretty smart by the way. So I had to back track on the conversation to make sure she knew that I knew that her older child was not stupid. Like me apparently.
Next day. Thursday I am having a good lunch with great friends. I originally invited them to lunch then switched it for a workout session and a drink afterwards. Well I did not remember this. So all day I am thinking I am going to lunch with these ladies. 2 pm rolls around and I am starving, and this is after a workout session with one of them. They were smart and already ate. So I had a salad, one had just an appetizer thing, and another had an ice cream sundae. She was the smart one! So the check comes and the appetizer girl pays for hers, and then I say to the waiter to split the difference. So my one friend had a $20 sundae and my bill was cheaper than my salad. See? Numpty! Whoops. So I owe her coffee and a muffin on Monday.
Friday. Today. I do not realize that the cloudy day meant rain. Why should I? So we take the kids to the bus stop. Then I drive with my husband to his work because I walk to dance class from there, and it is cheaper than taking a taxi later. So we are driving down the road. There is an accident so the road is partly shut down, due to the dead body under the tarp. Great way to start a Friday. Really. Then we get to hubby's work and I need to tinkle. So I head to the restroom. Of course the seat is wet. But I don't know this till I sit down. Great. Then I head over to a bakery where I sit and have a coffee until time for class. I walk outside. It is raining. Where is my umbrella? At home next to the front door. Numpty! So I am soaked by the time I get to the bakery. I have a nice coffee and toast and sit for a while. Then I head to dance. I have to maneuver through an obstacle course of dog poo, but I get there. Class goes well. Then I have to wait to deliver some water bottles that my Thursday bill-jilted friend sold to someone who lives down by the studio. So an hour later and a few phone calls because he kept on missing the bright orange building and my bright pink jacket, I give him the bottles. But he does not have the money to pay for them. I give them to him anyway. We will deal with that later. All I know is I am starving and it is peak lunch rush. I find a taxi who, by the way, takes the longest route he could come up with to the restaurant where I am meeting friends. First thing I order was a glass of wine.
But wait, shouldn't there be more of numpties? Why yes there is. This is a really nice restaurant. It was picked because everyone is leaving for the summer/winter. Where are my nice clothes to change into from my dance workout outfit? At home. Numpty! So I am in this nice restaurant, there are models in a table two down from us, and everyone at my table is dressed very nice. And then there was me. In my Hollywood bedazzled tank and capri exercise pants. But it was halfway good because it is the kind of pants with the skirt connected. But still. The restaurant had a long hallway towards the back and the bathrooms. I so wanted to walk by the model table with my muffin top hanging out and pretend to have a wedgie. That would be so classic and up scale of me. But I refrained. It was tough though. Why were they there anyway? It was an Italian restaurant, heavy on the pasta. What did they eat? Lettuce?
I am home right now, dressed comfy and relaxed. But the week is not over yet. I am sure there will be more numpties tomorrow.
So my week as a numpty started really just a few days ago. I went to lunch with said Numpty-sayer. We had a great time. However, in the middle of the lunch I inadvertently insulted another friend of mine. She was speaking about a tutor at school that her one teen has and that this tutor is useless. Unfortunately her younger teen will get this tutor next year. So as a wonderful friend I mention that she does not need to worry because the younger is smart so he will not really need the tutor. See? Numpty! Whoops. I totally did not means to insult the older child, who is pretty smart by the way. So I had to back track on the conversation to make sure she knew that I knew that her older child was not stupid. Like me apparently.
Next day. Thursday I am having a good lunch with great friends. I originally invited them to lunch then switched it for a workout session and a drink afterwards. Well I did not remember this. So all day I am thinking I am going to lunch with these ladies. 2 pm rolls around and I am starving, and this is after a workout session with one of them. They were smart and already ate. So I had a salad, one had just an appetizer thing, and another had an ice cream sundae. She was the smart one! So the check comes and the appetizer girl pays for hers, and then I say to the waiter to split the difference. So my one friend had a $20 sundae and my bill was cheaper than my salad. See? Numpty! Whoops. So I owe her coffee and a muffin on Monday.
Friday. Today. I do not realize that the cloudy day meant rain. Why should I? So we take the kids to the bus stop. Then I drive with my husband to his work because I walk to dance class from there, and it is cheaper than taking a taxi later. So we are driving down the road. There is an accident so the road is partly shut down, due to the dead body under the tarp. Great way to start a Friday. Really. Then we get to hubby's work and I need to tinkle. So I head to the restroom. Of course the seat is wet. But I don't know this till I sit down. Great. Then I head over to a bakery where I sit and have a coffee until time for class. I walk outside. It is raining. Where is my umbrella? At home next to the front door. Numpty! So I am soaked by the time I get to the bakery. I have a nice coffee and toast and sit for a while. Then I head to dance. I have to maneuver through an obstacle course of dog poo, but I get there. Class goes well. Then I have to wait to deliver some water bottles that my Thursday bill-jilted friend sold to someone who lives down by the studio. So an hour later and a few phone calls because he kept on missing the bright orange building and my bright pink jacket, I give him the bottles. But he does not have the money to pay for them. I give them to him anyway. We will deal with that later. All I know is I am starving and it is peak lunch rush. I find a taxi who, by the way, takes the longest route he could come up with to the restaurant where I am meeting friends. First thing I order was a glass of wine.
But wait, shouldn't there be more of numpties? Why yes there is. This is a really nice restaurant. It was picked because everyone is leaving for the summer/winter. Where are my nice clothes to change into from my dance workout outfit? At home. Numpty! So I am in this nice restaurant, there are models in a table two down from us, and everyone at my table is dressed very nice. And then there was me. In my Hollywood bedazzled tank and capri exercise pants. But it was halfway good because it is the kind of pants with the skirt connected. But still. The restaurant had a long hallway towards the back and the bathrooms. I so wanted to walk by the model table with my muffin top hanging out and pretend to have a wedgie. That would be so classic and up scale of me. But I refrained. It was tough though. Why were they there anyway? It was an Italian restaurant, heavy on the pasta. What did they eat? Lettuce?
I am home right now, dressed comfy and relaxed. But the week is not over yet. I am sure there will be more numpties tomorrow.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Rubbing Elbows
It is amazing the people that you meet while you are walking down the street each day. Sorry, had to do that. We have been in Brazil for almost two years now. We have met a lot of fun and interesting people from all over the world. We have friends from England, Scotland, France, The Netherlands. We have an Irish friend as well. She is Republic, not Republican, which means she is from the independent country and not from the IRA. Which believe it or not is confusing to a few people in Britain. We have also met some very nice Brazilians. It is truly fun to learn about different cultures and languages, even if it is English but spoken differently.
Our children go to an international school here in Sao Paulo. We have heard stories that they will be invited on private planes to go skiing in Chile and such. But we were like, no that will never happen...
My youngest son is very outgoing. He makes friends at the drop of a hat. So when he was invited to a birthday party, we thought okay that is great! We were thinking the 4 hour Brazilian party from 7 pm until 11 pm on a school night. Because that actually happens. So I get the call. They will be going to the family's cabin a few hours into the interior. For the weekend. Okay, this is new. Sure no problem my son can go. Then two days before the trip there is a change of plans. Oh, we decided to go to our beach house instead because there is more for the kids to do there. Okay. Hmm, do I go to my cabin in the mountains, or do I go to my beach house? Decisions, decisions....
Next friend comes along. Hey do you and your dad want to go with me and my dad for a father son weekend? That would be great, but we already have plans. We can try a different time. Okay, two months later, can you go now? Well I can but my dad will be out of town. No problem you can go with my dad and me. Okay, where are we going? To our beach house on our island just south of Rio. We will take our plane there and come back the next day. Well that sounds fun! And it was. There was the private beach, the boat to go tubing behind, the walks to take to talk about private stuff that is really important to an tween. Apparently, my child did not have to pick up anything including his clothes. The maids did it. And if he wanted anything to eat, even ice cream during the day, the maids dished it right out. Well that is nice, they brought their maid? No, the maids live there. Well okay!
It has truly been an experience living here. I wonder who we will rub elbows with next?
Our children go to an international school here in Sao Paulo. We have heard stories that they will be invited on private planes to go skiing in Chile and such. But we were like, no that will never happen...
My youngest son is very outgoing. He makes friends at the drop of a hat. So when he was invited to a birthday party, we thought okay that is great! We were thinking the 4 hour Brazilian party from 7 pm until 11 pm on a school night. Because that actually happens. So I get the call. They will be going to the family's cabin a few hours into the interior. For the weekend. Okay, this is new. Sure no problem my son can go. Then two days before the trip there is a change of plans. Oh, we decided to go to our beach house instead because there is more for the kids to do there. Okay. Hmm, do I go to my cabin in the mountains, or do I go to my beach house? Decisions, decisions....
Next friend comes along. Hey do you and your dad want to go with me and my dad for a father son weekend? That would be great, but we already have plans. We can try a different time. Okay, two months later, can you go now? Well I can but my dad will be out of town. No problem you can go with my dad and me. Okay, where are we going? To our beach house on our island just south of Rio. We will take our plane there and come back the next day. Well that sounds fun! And it was. There was the private beach, the boat to go tubing behind, the walks to take to talk about private stuff that is really important to an tween. Apparently, my child did not have to pick up anything including his clothes. The maids did it. And if he wanted anything to eat, even ice cream during the day, the maids dished it right out. Well that is nice, they brought their maid? No, the maids live there. Well okay!
It has truly been an experience living here. I wonder who we will rub elbows with next?
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Desensitized
I was told the other day that my blog entries are getting fewer. This is true actually. I was writing about adventures at least once a week when I moved here. This year, you are lucky to get one a month. Desensitized? Most likely. What I thought was really interesting two years ago, maybe even just one, now, not so much. They are everyday occurrences now. And while my relatives in Germany or my friends in Switzerland get to galavant all over Europe, we are pretty much homebodies. So in an effort to entertain you, I have decided to write today about something I have written many times about, driving.
I know, that topic again? Well it is the most interesting one at the moment. I do have another on the docket (can you believe I actually had to look up the spelling of that word?), but you will have to wait for that. I will need a topic for next week right?
I have friends here that have drivers. I feel very sorry for them. Not because they get to sit back and relax and play with their iPod while someone else lugs them all over creation and back. No, it is because they cannot experience the euphoria of driving in Sao Paulo. They do not get to experience buses from one far lane wanting to turn right, across 4 lanes of traffic. They don't get to be that person who has to stop and wave to others so that they can turn left from the far right lane. No avoiding potholes or missing manhole covers. Sometimes this is all the entertainment you can get in a day.
For example, like today. One son was with friends, one was sick, and my husband is traveling for work. What is mom going to do today after church? Nothing. So the only interesting part of the day was the drive to and from church. Three fun things stand out in my mind for today. One; I was about two minutes out from my complex on the major frontage road when I had to change lanes. The reason? Someone missed their turn and instead of going the long way around, they decided to go in reverse about 100 yards so they could turn right. I and several other cars had to avoid hitting them. Two; I am in line to turn right to get onto the bridge to get onto the highway. There was a car stopped in front of the lanes. He needed to make a u-turn. So he parked his car lengthwise in front of us until our light turned green so he could u-turn. And finally three; I had to slalom on the way home. That is the ski thing right? Where you weave in and out of the flags? Well, instead of flags it was cars. I was driving along and then someone going 20 kph slower than me (I was actually doing the speed limit, they were not) decided he liked my lane better to drive in than his, so he switched in front of me. Thank you! And no, there was no one in his lane in front of him. Just wanted to be in my lane. So weave around him, then there was another, then another. I think since my husband's car is so dirty someone must have written in the hood "Please cut in front of me." That is really the only explanation I can think of.
You see? All of the fun you could have behind the wheel. And to think, some people never get to experience it.
I know, that topic again? Well it is the most interesting one at the moment. I do have another on the docket (can you believe I actually had to look up the spelling of that word?), but you will have to wait for that. I will need a topic for next week right?
I have friends here that have drivers. I feel very sorry for them. Not because they get to sit back and relax and play with their iPod while someone else lugs them all over creation and back. No, it is because they cannot experience the euphoria of driving in Sao Paulo. They do not get to experience buses from one far lane wanting to turn right, across 4 lanes of traffic. They don't get to be that person who has to stop and wave to others so that they can turn left from the far right lane. No avoiding potholes or missing manhole covers. Sometimes this is all the entertainment you can get in a day.
For example, like today. One son was with friends, one was sick, and my husband is traveling for work. What is mom going to do today after church? Nothing. So the only interesting part of the day was the drive to and from church. Three fun things stand out in my mind for today. One; I was about two minutes out from my complex on the major frontage road when I had to change lanes. The reason? Someone missed their turn and instead of going the long way around, they decided to go in reverse about 100 yards so they could turn right. I and several other cars had to avoid hitting them. Two; I am in line to turn right to get onto the bridge to get onto the highway. There was a car stopped in front of the lanes. He needed to make a u-turn. So he parked his car lengthwise in front of us until our light turned green so he could u-turn. And finally three; I had to slalom on the way home. That is the ski thing right? Where you weave in and out of the flags? Well, instead of flags it was cars. I was driving along and then someone going 20 kph slower than me (I was actually doing the speed limit, they were not) decided he liked my lane better to drive in than his, so he switched in front of me. Thank you! And no, there was no one in his lane in front of him. Just wanted to be in my lane. So weave around him, then there was another, then another. I think since my husband's car is so dirty someone must have written in the hood "Please cut in front of me." That is really the only explanation I can think of.
You see? All of the fun you could have behind the wheel. And to think, some people never get to experience it.
Friday, May 4, 2012
You have to sing this...
When we try to explain how we feel
That we still love your city after all that we've done
You won't believe me
All you will see is tourists who came
to Buenos Aires to visit
but, we didn't see anything lame
we had ate yummy steak, we had to make change
Couldn't stop taking many pictures
Looking out of the window, staying out of the rain
So we chose the BA bus
Running around, trying everything new
everything impressed us all
we never expected it to
[Chorus:]
Don't cry for me Argentina
The truth is we spent so much money
All through our fun-filled days
Our mad excursions
we made our purchases
Don't keep my receipt
And as for lost fortune, who's to blame
My husband would say it was me
but I really think it is totally your fault
There was Recolleta
There was the Tango Show at La Vantana
La Boca and Caminito
We love you and hope you love us
Don't cry for me Argentina
[chorus]
Have we said too much?
There's nothing more we can think of to say to you.
But all you have to do is look at us to know
That every word is true
Thursday, April 19, 2012
A Little Protein in Your Salad Never Hurts
The other day I was going to lunch with some girlfriends. I am going to call them O and E. O is from out of town, hence the O, and will be moving here this July sometime. Can't wait! And E is an Ex-pat like me, hence the E. So I tell the girls what restaurant we will be meeting at. So I arrive at just before noon, and the restaurant is closed. Which did not worry me, because most do not open till noon. That is until I saw the hole in the wall on the side. No this was a permanent closing. S**T! O does not have a phone that I can call! E's phone is going right to voice mail. What should I do?
Then I saw a taxi at the next corner pointing my way. Okay O was here. Great. So I try to pull away from the spot I am parked in, but there are workers behind me. I have to wait for them to cross the street. By that time the taxi is pulling away. NNNOOO! So I pull away and chase after the taxi. Now, no one really honks their car horn in Sao Paulo. So when I am laying on the horn I would expect the taxi driver to wonder what that noise is. Nope. I am banging on the horn and trying to make him pull over when he FINALLY notices me and pulls off the road. Now I am pretty sure this was my friend, but not 100%. Luckily it was her. She pays the cabbie and gets in my car. Now what? Well E is still not answering her phone so I assumed that she could not cut the meeting she had and was not coming to lunch. Where should we go?
Well I started driving and chatting. I was actually paying attention to the road too, which is unusual for me. I called my husband, yes I was on the phone too. Hey I am a multi-tasker! He gave a reco on where to go. Okay! So I am blocks from the new place, and E calls. "Hey where are you? The restaurant is closed!" Umm, about that. Well come to find out that she kept on pocketing dialing people so she had to shut off her phone. Oops! So we head back to the same street we just came from because E said the restaurant down the street from the closed one was good. So we head back. In lunch hour traffic. It took some time.
The restaurant is named Olea Mozzarella Bar. Yum, sounds Italian. Well not really, but they did have bruschetta! And it was the best I have tasted so far. It is a buffet style restaurant. So what you do is go to the salad bar and then get appetizers, and then go back for lunch. As many times as you want. They had chicken, fillet mignon, snapper. So let's start with a salad. I get field greens, arugula, oh and you point what you want and they make it for you. Nice, don't have to do a thing. Okay, I get my salad with balsamic vinaigrette. And we sit down and talk. And talk, and talk. I am almost done. I have a few leaves still on my plate. I look down. What is floating in my vinaigrette? A grayish looking garden grub. Not a big one, maybe only a half inch long. YUMMO! I hope the vinegar killed it.
So I call over the proprietress. Her explanation: "Oh I am so sorry! You know we are very organic here. No pesticides. It makes the food healthier."
Um okay. But now I am wondering how many grubs I ate. O and E are laughing once the lady leaves. Cracking jokes about how organic my meal is. Did we stay? Yes, they had fillet mignon on the main table! I needed more protein people! Or just to wash the thought of the grub out of my taste buds.
In the end it was a fun lunch with friends, despite the grub. Of course they did not comp anything. Why should they, it was organic! Bonus!
Can't wait for O to arrive so we can do lunch again. And in the meantime, E and I will just have to find more bug salads to eat!
Then I saw a taxi at the next corner pointing my way. Okay O was here. Great. So I try to pull away from the spot I am parked in, but there are workers behind me. I have to wait for them to cross the street. By that time the taxi is pulling away. NNNOOO! So I pull away and chase after the taxi. Now, no one really honks their car horn in Sao Paulo. So when I am laying on the horn I would expect the taxi driver to wonder what that noise is. Nope. I am banging on the horn and trying to make him pull over when he FINALLY notices me and pulls off the road. Now I am pretty sure this was my friend, but not 100%. Luckily it was her. She pays the cabbie and gets in my car. Now what? Well E is still not answering her phone so I assumed that she could not cut the meeting she had and was not coming to lunch. Where should we go?
Well I started driving and chatting. I was actually paying attention to the road too, which is unusual for me. I called my husband, yes I was on the phone too. Hey I am a multi-tasker! He gave a reco on where to go. Okay! So I am blocks from the new place, and E calls. "Hey where are you? The restaurant is closed!" Umm, about that. Well come to find out that she kept on pocketing dialing people so she had to shut off her phone. Oops! So we head back to the same street we just came from because E said the restaurant down the street from the closed one was good. So we head back. In lunch hour traffic. It took some time.
The restaurant is named Olea Mozzarella Bar. Yum, sounds Italian. Well not really, but they did have bruschetta! And it was the best I have tasted so far. It is a buffet style restaurant. So what you do is go to the salad bar and then get appetizers, and then go back for lunch. As many times as you want. They had chicken, fillet mignon, snapper. So let's start with a salad. I get field greens, arugula, oh and you point what you want and they make it for you. Nice, don't have to do a thing. Okay, I get my salad with balsamic vinaigrette. And we sit down and talk. And talk, and talk. I am almost done. I have a few leaves still on my plate. I look down. What is floating in my vinaigrette? A grayish looking garden grub. Not a big one, maybe only a half inch long. YUMMO! I hope the vinegar killed it.
So I call over the proprietress. Her explanation: "Oh I am so sorry! You know we are very organic here. No pesticides. It makes the food healthier."
Um okay. But now I am wondering how many grubs I ate. O and E are laughing once the lady leaves. Cracking jokes about how organic my meal is. Did we stay? Yes, they had fillet mignon on the main table! I needed more protein people! Or just to wash the thought of the grub out of my taste buds.
In the end it was a fun lunch with friends, despite the grub. Of course they did not comp anything. Why should they, it was organic! Bonus!
Can't wait for O to arrive so we can do lunch again. And in the meantime, E and I will just have to find more bug salads to eat!
Monday, April 16, 2012
New Shocks and a Bruised Rib
March for us was a month of travelling. We hit the beach several times. One such beach was Praia Juquehy, pronounced joo-kay-ee, or close enough to it. This beach was beautiful. You know, every time we hit a different one, we say, this is the most beautiful beach I have seen outside of Rio. Of course, until we hit the next one. Juquehy is about a 2.5 hour drive outside of Sao Paulo. It is really not that far actually. But to get there you have to go over 38 speed bumps, one way. Really they are speed reducing mountains due to the size of some of these things.
We picked the boys up from school on a Friday and headed out. It is really a nice drive over bridges in the mountains. Scary at times, but really nice, see?
I wish I could take a picture of the road with all of the speed bumps. It is about 40 miles long, so that works out to be about 1 bump per mile. However, I could not because, well the bumps. But we finally got to the beach. We hit the turn off but it did not look right. It was a dirt road with construction all around and it looked like we were heading into the jungle. So we took the long way around. Not the best idea either.
See they built this little city by the sea. But they did not build infrastructure around it. The bridge to go over the run out path has no boards in the middle of it. If you jerk the wheel? You are in the ravine.
I thought I took a picture, but this is a different bridge that we took to leave. But you can see where there are no boards. Also, the road that they built for this little town was very interesting. They did not grade it, they did not put draining in so that the rain would be taken away. So the road was EXTREMELY bumpy. I think I have a picture of that.
Okay, so I did not take a good picture again. It is not my strong suit. However, can you see the car in the corner? That is not due to camera angle. It is due to street angle. By the time we got to our hotel my youngest was trying hard not to pee his pants, which was difficult considering the jarring, and I bruised my rib on the door handle.
But get there we did. And, oh my, what tranquility. We relaxed for two days. It was so nice. The first night we lost power due to a tremendous storm, but we did not mind. The weekend was wonderful. We ate very delicious food. We played cards. We took walks on the beach, and we rested by the pool. We needed the break and felt rested coming home. Here are some pictures of the paradise we found. The first is the best of the weekend, taken by my nine year old. Actually, I think he took all of these. A photographer in the making?
We picked the boys up from school on a Friday and headed out. It is really a nice drive over bridges in the mountains. Scary at times, but really nice, see?
I wish I could take a picture of the road with all of the speed bumps. It is about 40 miles long, so that works out to be about 1 bump per mile. However, I could not because, well the bumps. But we finally got to the beach. We hit the turn off but it did not look right. It was a dirt road with construction all around and it looked like we were heading into the jungle. So we took the long way around. Not the best idea either.
See they built this little city by the sea. But they did not build infrastructure around it. The bridge to go over the run out path has no boards in the middle of it. If you jerk the wheel? You are in the ravine.
I thought I took a picture, but this is a different bridge that we took to leave. But you can see where there are no boards. Also, the road that they built for this little town was very interesting. They did not grade it, they did not put draining in so that the rain would be taken away. So the road was EXTREMELY bumpy. I think I have a picture of that.
Okay, so I did not take a good picture again. It is not my strong suit. However, can you see the car in the corner? That is not due to camera angle. It is due to street angle. By the time we got to our hotel my youngest was trying hard not to pee his pants, which was difficult considering the jarring, and I bruised my rib on the door handle.
But get there we did. And, oh my, what tranquility. We relaxed for two days. It was so nice. The first night we lost power due to a tremendous storm, but we did not mind. The weekend was wonderful. We ate very delicious food. We played cards. We took walks on the beach, and we rested by the pool. We needed the break and felt rested coming home. Here are some pictures of the paradise we found. The first is the best of the weekend, taken by my nine year old. Actually, I think he took all of these. A photographer in the making?
Thursday, March 8, 2012
The Brazilian Ambulance Chasers
I have dance class on Fridays. I get to learn Samba, which is really really hard, Salsa, Bechata, Forro, and all other kinds of things. It is a really fun class, and very sweaty. Well this past Friday my husband was working from home so he let me take the car. Not one of his better decisions, but we will not tell him that. I don't have to go very far, maybe 15 kilometers, about 9 miles. But it took me forever.
I left my house at 9 am. By 9:30 I was on the south going lane of the highway, and I could see my house. I was literally right across the street. The traffic was miserable! I turned on the radio to give me something to listen to. Ah and what came on? The traffic report. Now Sao Paulo does something interesting with the traffic report. They list the amount of congestion in kilometers around the city. On Friday the traffic congestion was 100 kilometers. Yes! 60 miles of traffic in the city! Holy cow I was never getting to dance class! Well I could not pull off, turn around, get to an exit. I was stuck right in the middle of 60 miles of bumper to bumper. Well, I guess I will wait.
As I was sitting there, inching along, a police SUV comes blaring down the highway. This was the Policia Militar, the black cars that you do not mess with. I mean, last week one went past us on the highway with its windows rolled down and the cop in the passenger seat had his pistol in his hand on the open window panel. Yeah, you don't mess with these guys. But right behind him, a little Ford Fiesta was taking advantage of the hole the cop car made, following right along behind. And behind the Fiesta was a few motorcycles. Brave boys. But what impressed me most was that the Fiesta was keeping up. Then about 5 minutes later an ambulance comes screaming along. Makes another hole in between two lanes, since there is no place to pull over for the emergency vehicles, and continues on. But right behind the ambulance? At least 50 motorcycles.
Gives me a new meaning to the term Ambulance Chaser.
PS: I actually did make it to class on time. After 3 kilometers down the road, everything opened up. Took me a half hour to go 2 KM, and a half hour to go the other 13.
I left my house at 9 am. By 9:30 I was on the south going lane of the highway, and I could see my house. I was literally right across the street. The traffic was miserable! I turned on the radio to give me something to listen to. Ah and what came on? The traffic report. Now Sao Paulo does something interesting with the traffic report. They list the amount of congestion in kilometers around the city. On Friday the traffic congestion was 100 kilometers. Yes! 60 miles of traffic in the city! Holy cow I was never getting to dance class! Well I could not pull off, turn around, get to an exit. I was stuck right in the middle of 60 miles of bumper to bumper. Well, I guess I will wait.
As I was sitting there, inching along, a police SUV comes blaring down the highway. This was the Policia Militar, the black cars that you do not mess with. I mean, last week one went past us on the highway with its windows rolled down and the cop in the passenger seat had his pistol in his hand on the open window panel. Yeah, you don't mess with these guys. But right behind him, a little Ford Fiesta was taking advantage of the hole the cop car made, following right along behind. And behind the Fiesta was a few motorcycles. Brave boys. But what impressed me most was that the Fiesta was keeping up. Then about 5 minutes later an ambulance comes screaming along. Makes another hole in between two lanes, since there is no place to pull over for the emergency vehicles, and continues on. But right behind the ambulance? At least 50 motorcycles.
Gives me a new meaning to the term Ambulance Chaser.
PS: I actually did make it to class on time. After 3 kilometers down the road, everything opened up. Took me a half hour to go 2 KM, and a half hour to go the other 13.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
I Am So Not A Little Bit Country
Sorry Marie Osmond, I am so not a little bit country. I am with Donny all the way, I am rock-n-roll.
Actually, I can listen to pretty much any type of music, except country. Let's see. What is on my iPod? Well I won't go over every artist, but there is anything from Beethoven to Pitbull. Heck I even have Carmina Burana on there. If you are wondering what that is, it is the scary music from the movie "The Omen." There is latin, jazz, dance, rap, classical, pop, hard rock, calypso. You name it. I listen to it. Except country.
Well, I take that back. I do have a few exceptions. I am a woman; I am allowed. I mean you should see my food list exceptions, but that will be for another day. And yes, I have a cowboy hat that I bought at Target. And yes, I own cowboy boots. But that is TOTALLY different. Yes it is. For music, I do have an affection for Carrie Underwood, Randy Travis (though he is not on my iPod), and Kenny Rogers. Though I do not know if you can call him fully country. Oh and I do like that Joe Nichols song "Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off." Well of course I would, he mentions Bon Jovi in it, duh. You are probably wondering why Randy Travis. Well he was actually the first country singer I can remember that I listened to and liked besides the Oakridge Boys. And really they are only one song. Hi-O Silver Away! Anyway, we were going, somewhere, can't remember, but on the radio came his song "I am going to love you forever." I think that is the name of it. But it is a beautiful song and he has a great voice. And you can understand Carrie. I mean, she is so darned cute you just want to chop her head off and put yours on her body - while keeping her singing voice of course.
The reason I do not listen to country music is because most of it is about losing your woman, your dog running away, your horse dying, or your trailer blowing up. Well not really, but it is like scratching a chalkboard to me. And the songs pretty much sound the same after a while. And seriously, Brad Paisley needs to get rid of that hat. It makes his head look too small.
However, living in Brazil, I have learned to love country music. Brazilian country music that is. It is called forró. (Double r is pronounced as an "H".) Okay, yes, this starts sounding the same after a while too. But man, it is fun music. When you hear it, you just smile. It is always very happy, not one thing dying in any song at any time. Instead of the banjo like in the US, they use the accordion. It kind of sounds polka-ish. Now that I think about it, you can polka to this music. But all the words are happy. I think that is why I like it. So while I will not have K102/B105 programmed in any car I will ever own (yes I had to google to find those stations), the Forró station is the first we turn on in our car and consistently listen to here.
(Hey figured out how to put in a link to a song, hope it works! Forro song popular in Brazil. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hcm55lU9knw ). Check this song out. It is so much fun to listen to. My boys even know the words. And there is a line dance to it too!
Actually, I can listen to pretty much any type of music, except country. Let's see. What is on my iPod? Well I won't go over every artist, but there is anything from Beethoven to Pitbull. Heck I even have Carmina Burana on there. If you are wondering what that is, it is the scary music from the movie "The Omen." There is latin, jazz, dance, rap, classical, pop, hard rock, calypso. You name it. I listen to it. Except country.
Well, I take that back. I do have a few exceptions. I am a woman; I am allowed. I mean you should see my food list exceptions, but that will be for another day. And yes, I have a cowboy hat that I bought at Target. And yes, I own cowboy boots. But that is TOTALLY different. Yes it is. For music, I do have an affection for Carrie Underwood, Randy Travis (though he is not on my iPod), and Kenny Rogers. Though I do not know if you can call him fully country. Oh and I do like that Joe Nichols song "Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off." Well of course I would, he mentions Bon Jovi in it, duh. You are probably wondering why Randy Travis. Well he was actually the first country singer I can remember that I listened to and liked besides the Oakridge Boys. And really they are only one song. Hi-O Silver Away! Anyway, we were going, somewhere, can't remember, but on the radio came his song "I am going to love you forever." I think that is the name of it. But it is a beautiful song and he has a great voice. And you can understand Carrie. I mean, she is so darned cute you just want to chop her head off and put yours on her body - while keeping her singing voice of course.
The reason I do not listen to country music is because most of it is about losing your woman, your dog running away, your horse dying, or your trailer blowing up. Well not really, but it is like scratching a chalkboard to me. And the songs pretty much sound the same after a while. And seriously, Brad Paisley needs to get rid of that hat. It makes his head look too small.
However, living in Brazil, I have learned to love country music. Brazilian country music that is. It is called forró. (Double r is pronounced as an "H".) Okay, yes, this starts sounding the same after a while too. But man, it is fun music. When you hear it, you just smile. It is always very happy, not one thing dying in any song at any time. Instead of the banjo like in the US, they use the accordion. It kind of sounds polka-ish. Now that I think about it, you can polka to this music. But all the words are happy. I think that is why I like it. So while I will not have K102/B105 programmed in any car I will ever own (yes I had to google to find those stations), the Forró station is the first we turn on in our car and consistently listen to here.
(Hey figured out how to put in a link to a song, hope it works! Forro song popular in Brazil. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hcm55lU9knw ). Check this song out. It is so much fun to listen to. My boys even know the words. And there is a line dance to it too!
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Every Morning I Hit A Wall
It is summer here in Brazil. It finally arrived with a vengeance. Unlike the gradual build up of heat in 2011, the summer of 2012 started cold and rainy. It took a while to get warm, but when it did, yowza! It is similar to Florida weather, but my glasses do not fog up here when I go in and out of places. I think the reason for this is that air conditioning is a rarity here.
I know what you are thinking. "What did you just say? A Rarity? In a tropical country?" Why yes I did. Yes the malls and restaurants have A/C, but it is not on the frigid setting that us Americans are used to. It is usually on the just-this-side-of-comfortable. I am extremely lucky, though. First, because I have an awesome husband. Second, because his number one must have in an apartment when he was looking for one was A/C. Now this is not central A/C either. This is wall unit A/C for each of the bedrooms and the main living spaces. (The kitchen, maid room, and laundry do not have this luxury because it is even rarer for the lady of the house to go to these places.) We have many friends here that do not have A/C in their apartments. Unfortunately, they have to leave their windows open at night. It is nice if there is a breeze. It is not nice if the smell from the river is overpowering, or if there are an abundance of mosquitoes.
Oh wait, this is Brazil, and we live next to a river. No mosquitoes? Not possible. I actually just walked through a nest of them trying to get into our building's front door. It reminded me of the Merven's (I think that was the store) commercial where the lady is standing in front of a closed store with here hands and nose pressed to the glass chanting "open, open, open." Here is a factoid for you: only females suck blood to help her eggs grow, the males live on sugar from flower nectar. And the males are the ones buzzing to attract females. But then I wondered, why are they buzzing in my ear? I am not a mate for them. Then I thought about it. I really think that when we hear mosquito males buzzing they are really saying "Run away! Here she comes! Save yourselves while you can!"
So if you have no A/C, you need to have your windows open. But then you get bit like you are the blood donor of the year. I still get bit, and my windows are closed. My husband does not. He says it is because his Latin blood is too powerful for the female mosquito. She will die instantly with that much power going into her body. (No lie, he says this.) I think the bugs were hiding in the closet while I sprayed the house the other night. And how are they getting in by the way? Through the drains or power outlets in the house?
But it is so nice to have the A/C unit on at night. I feel bad for those that do not have it. We are nice and comfy in our beds and the room is at 65 degrees, well most of the time. In the middle of the night the unit gets a little tired and blows warm air, but it starts up again after a while. Most mornings I do not want to get out of bed. Not because I have a love affair with A/C. I actually do not like A/C in the States. When we lived up North I much rather have the windows open in the Fall and have the house at 50 than have the A/C on in the summer. My husband thinks I am crazy, but I come from a long line of crazies so he should have known that going into our marriage. No, I want to stay snuggled in bed because I know once I open our bedroom door I will walk into a wall of warm air so oppressive it is like a 10 pound weight pressing on your chest. So I let my husband get out first. I like to think of it as he being altruistic; saving me the pain. I mean come on, he is Latin. He is strong enough to endure so his little bitty, meek and mild wife does not get the air sucked out of her body. But it doesn't work, the wall is still there when I follow him a few minutes later.
Help...gasp...can't...gasp...breathe....
I know what you are thinking. "What did you just say? A Rarity? In a tropical country?" Why yes I did. Yes the malls and restaurants have A/C, but it is not on the frigid setting that us Americans are used to. It is usually on the just-this-side-of-comfortable. I am extremely lucky, though. First, because I have an awesome husband. Second, because his number one must have in an apartment when he was looking for one was A/C. Now this is not central A/C either. This is wall unit A/C for each of the bedrooms and the main living spaces. (The kitchen, maid room, and laundry do not have this luxury because it is even rarer for the lady of the house to go to these places.) We have many friends here that do not have A/C in their apartments. Unfortunately, they have to leave their windows open at night. It is nice if there is a breeze. It is not nice if the smell from the river is overpowering, or if there are an abundance of mosquitoes.
Oh wait, this is Brazil, and we live next to a river. No mosquitoes? Not possible. I actually just walked through a nest of them trying to get into our building's front door. It reminded me of the Merven's (I think that was the store) commercial where the lady is standing in front of a closed store with here hands and nose pressed to the glass chanting "open, open, open." Here is a factoid for you: only females suck blood to help her eggs grow, the males live on sugar from flower nectar. And the males are the ones buzzing to attract females. But then I wondered, why are they buzzing in my ear? I am not a mate for them. Then I thought about it. I really think that when we hear mosquito males buzzing they are really saying "Run away! Here she comes! Save yourselves while you can!"
So if you have no A/C, you need to have your windows open. But then you get bit like you are the blood donor of the year. I still get bit, and my windows are closed. My husband does not. He says it is because his Latin blood is too powerful for the female mosquito. She will die instantly with that much power going into her body. (No lie, he says this.) I think the bugs were hiding in the closet while I sprayed the house the other night. And how are they getting in by the way? Through the drains or power outlets in the house?
But it is so nice to have the A/C unit on at night. I feel bad for those that do not have it. We are nice and comfy in our beds and the room is at 65 degrees, well most of the time. In the middle of the night the unit gets a little tired and blows warm air, but it starts up again after a while. Most mornings I do not want to get out of bed. Not because I have a love affair with A/C. I actually do not like A/C in the States. When we lived up North I much rather have the windows open in the Fall and have the house at 50 than have the A/C on in the summer. My husband thinks I am crazy, but I come from a long line of crazies so he should have known that going into our marriage. No, I want to stay snuggled in bed because I know once I open our bedroom door I will walk into a wall of warm air so oppressive it is like a 10 pound weight pressing on your chest. So I let my husband get out first. I like to think of it as he being altruistic; saving me the pain. I mean come on, he is Latin. He is strong enough to endure so his little bitty, meek and mild wife does not get the air sucked out of her body. But it doesn't work, the wall is still there when I follow him a few minutes later.
Help...gasp...can't...gasp...breathe....
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Beef...It's Not What's For Dinner
I am a carnivore. Most of my family is, well actually all if I am making hamburger. Just thinking about a nice juicy steak makes my mouth water. Soaking up all that bloody juice with a dinner roll; still hearing it moo when you cut the tender juicy pieces with a knife. Yum. Now I am hungry. And then you have Sam Elliott's sexy voice telling you "It's what's for dinner." Sure thing Sam I am. I will eat steak on a break. I will eat steak with a rake!
When we arrived in Brazil in August 2010 a filet mignon cost $14 Reais per kilo. If you go with the conversion rate of .6 and a kilo is 2.2 pounds, that means a pound of filet mignon was US$3.80 a pound. (Here is the calculation because I know you are saying that is not right :14x.6=8.4, 8.4/2.2=3.80) I know what you are saying. Okay it is filet every night! And we did eat it a majority of the time. I have some new and delicious recipes for good red meat. Anyway, how can you beat that price? Well, Brazil did not beat it. It buried it into the ground so deep we will never see it again.
When we left for Christmas that same year the price was around R$20 per kilo. In June 2011 when we left for the winter break the price was up to R$35 a kilo. And finally with we left at Christmas 2011, the price was at R$65 a kilo. So in a year and a half, the price increased 364%. Now what are you saying? Probably something like "holy pooh Batman!", or something very close to it. I think it would make sense if they were feeding the cows gold leaf or caviar. But the grass they are eating is not the kind for funny brownies. And yes, other cuts have gone up too, but not as drastically. Problem is finding them in the stores because they go so fast. So what's the deal?
Actually, the real question is "Is it worth it?" Now I am only giving price quotes from my local supermarket. I will not go buy it at Wal-Mart (there are usually green meats in the same case as the good stuff, but why risk it.) And the same with other stores in the area. I go where the Brazilians have told me to go. There is one other, but I do not have a car so it is harder to get to. But back to the question, is it worth it. While we were in the States for Christmas and New Year 2011/2012 we went to several restaurants. In the past these places had amazing food. And of course, loving bovine, I had red meat. It did not taste like anything! No flavor, nada, zilch! I have now understood the comment that Argentina and Brazil have some of the best beef in the world. I have no idea what they are feeding these cows, maybe it is caviar and gold leaf. Because eating a Brazilian steak is for me like eating a Betty Crocker Brownie - a savory, tasty, scrumptious treat.
It is worth it? Yes. Can I afford it? No. So in the meantime, I scour the cases waiting for it to go on sale, which is rare. But I like rare meat, especially with a nice peppery crust seasoning.
When we arrived in Brazil in August 2010 a filet mignon cost $14 Reais per kilo. If you go with the conversion rate of .6 and a kilo is 2.2 pounds, that means a pound of filet mignon was US$3.80 a pound. (Here is the calculation because I know you are saying that is not right :14x.6=8.4, 8.4/2.2=3.80) I know what you are saying. Okay it is filet every night! And we did eat it a majority of the time. I have some new and delicious recipes for good red meat. Anyway, how can you beat that price? Well, Brazil did not beat it. It buried it into the ground so deep we will never see it again.
When we left for Christmas that same year the price was around R$20 per kilo. In June 2011 when we left for the winter break the price was up to R$35 a kilo. And finally with we left at Christmas 2011, the price was at R$65 a kilo. So in a year and a half, the price increased 364%. Now what are you saying? Probably something like "holy pooh Batman!", or something very close to it. I think it would make sense if they were feeding the cows gold leaf or caviar. But the grass they are eating is not the kind for funny brownies. And yes, other cuts have gone up too, but not as drastically. Problem is finding them in the stores because they go so fast. So what's the deal?
Actually, the real question is "Is it worth it?" Now I am only giving price quotes from my local supermarket. I will not go buy it at Wal-Mart (there are usually green meats in the same case as the good stuff, but why risk it.) And the same with other stores in the area. I go where the Brazilians have told me to go. There is one other, but I do not have a car so it is harder to get to. But back to the question, is it worth it. While we were in the States for Christmas and New Year 2011/2012 we went to several restaurants. In the past these places had amazing food. And of course, loving bovine, I had red meat. It did not taste like anything! No flavor, nada, zilch! I have now understood the comment that Argentina and Brazil have some of the best beef in the world. I have no idea what they are feeding these cows, maybe it is caviar and gold leaf. Because eating a Brazilian steak is for me like eating a Betty Crocker Brownie - a savory, tasty, scrumptious treat.
It is worth it? Yes. Can I afford it? No. So in the meantime, I scour the cases waiting for it to go on sale, which is rare. But I like rare meat, especially with a nice peppery crust seasoning.
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