Roxanne

Hello everybody! I know you have been waiting with baited breath for my next installment. Don't lie. Well we are in our apartment. We arrived two weeks ago and so far so good, minus the elephants upstairs. I have a drummer and a trumpet player in the house. I will get my revenge!

So you are probs wondering why I picked Roxanne by The Police. Yes, I know what the song is about. And no, fortunately/unfortunately, I will not be telling you about an experience with peeps of the night. Yes, I use peeps instead of women because how do you know they are women? There is a street by the Johnson & Johnson building where you can find entertainment. However, you cannot tell gender. And some of those dudes look pretty amazing. If your husbands suddenly have to come to SP to work with J&J it is not my fault.

Yes, so far so good. Minus one thing. Our things. Where are they? It has been six weeks since they were packed. Our sea shipment left on time and arrived in Santos where it will sit until the Customs Inspector strike is over and they can go through our boxes. Yes, there is a strike. Surprise, surprise. Please note my sarcasm here. I have had friends say, "Well no problem Jen your air shipment was very thorough." Yes it was. I have been through Brazil before so I knew to pack it to the limit. Well. That was just shipped this week! So. I don't get annoyed at many things: auto correct that changes your word to something completely different, or when auto correct does not add the apostrophe to contractions, or the fact that it can't auto spell apostrophe for me and I have to look it up on Google. Just to name inane things. My boys will say there are a few more, but I digress.

So shipped this week? Yes. One was sitting in the US and one in Switzerland for over six weeks! SIX WEEKS! And I cannot get an answer as to why. If they sent them on time, like last month, it would have gone through customs before the strike. So now I have to wait until the strike is over to get everything. Basically, I will be waiting a minimum of 12 weeks from arrival here for everything. We have been told everything will arrive at the same time. Why did I g to so much trouble and stress to divide everything if you are just gonna screw with me!!!!!!!!! ARGH! Yes, said like Charlie Brown. Even Ricardo is mad. He sent a very stern email. Not usual for him. Mostly he tells me to calm down and deal. (And he is usually right. But if you tell him that I will say you are lying.) Well he is not dealing either because it is kinda ridiculous. Especially not getting a good answer as to why.

Still not understanding the Roxanne angle Jen! Okay. So, our shipments could not have any medications or liquids of any kind. I understand the meds. But liquids, shoot! I get why, spillage and all. However, I am a hoarder of shampoos and soaps and lotions. Ask and friends will tell you I have the Armageddon closet for food and sundries. I have teen boys! Food closet is a must to survive the week. But with the sundries I am basically screwed. I have two boys heading to a school for the first time ever without uniforms. I have a husband who has to go to work. So suitcase space was very premium. Mine was filled with the closet and then afterthought with clothes. Now are you getting it? Yes, armageddonit Jen.

Sing with me, "Rooooooxanne, you do have to wear that dress tonight..." well actually you do. Because you could only fit 5 tank tops, 3 t-shirts, 3 jeans, one jammy, and 2 dresses in your suitcase with 4 pairs of shoes. That dress will be worn down to holes if you are not careful. Choose wisely Roxy! Choose wisely!

Turn the page

You don't expect to turn then page and end up right back at the beginning, but that is what we did. We are back in Brazil and it feels like home, the smelly marginal and all.

So when I got here back in 2010, I forgot to bring my hair dryer. I put it in the air shipment. But the moving company said it would only take a week to get our stuff. Well, a month later that was true. So without a hair dryer, I improvised. I pulled my clothes dryer away from the wall and laid down behind it and dried my hair. A little dusty, but it worked. Now in 2016? I know better. But, I don't have a clothes dryer. Turn the page and come full circle! We are in a hotel until our apartment is ready the beginning of next month. So that means laundry service. However, I am not paying anyone $4 to wash a pair of socks or undies, no matter how nicely it is packaged. I'm too cheap for that. So wash in the bathtub it is! After the maid comes of course, because I don't want to look cheap. Or crazy. So a few pieces a day. I should catch up by the end of the month, right? But without a dryer what can I use? That's right! My hair dryer!Works very nicely I might add. Socks fit right over the top, undies dry quickly. Easy peasy. Though t-shirts and shorts take a bit longer. I will not do jeans though. I have a limit. Those and hubby's work clothes go to the cleaners. I am not THAT insane. Usually.

Yes, Brazil feels like home. We love it here. Although I have started answering people in French. That is so not going to work. Too many languages in me brain! This morning I asked if I could bring a plate up to my child in the room and it was part Portuguese and part French. Sounded good, but hey, I got my point across. Yes, I have a sick child. Why would I not? Full circle again. We were sick when we arrived in Switzerland too. But this time my husband coughed on him. Yes, I am going to blame him. First, the oldest had the tummy flu in Switzerland. That smelled just as good as the river here does. Then husband comes back from traveling the world with a cold and fever. Then we arrive here and I get it, but I think it was from exhaustion more than anything. Now the last one to get it is my second. Of course he misses school today. Why not? Add more work on top of him tomorrow. Which he WILL be better. No jinxing it peeps!!!!!!

We are easing ourselves back in. We are remembering that buses rule the road here and they will cut you off by mere inches if they feel so inclined. That traffic is insane and you can turn right from the left lane. That waiters are shocked that you want more than one cup of american-sized coffee. That pineapple here tastes amazing and so does the papaya, though it still smells like feet. The papaya not the pineapple. That hooking up with old friends is a pleasure, even while still missing your Swiss ones like missing a piece of your heart.

So onward, turn the page, and let's start a new chapter...

Six Weeks Back Home

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.

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...

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.