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...

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!

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.