My dream last night scared me so much that I didn't go down to the theater today as planned for a violin concert at the Theatro Municipal. It was the backdrop for the bizarre dreamworld events that follow:
***
I had gone down to Cinelândia early, so that I wouldn't miss a chance to buy tickets. Since they're so cheap, only R$1, seats sell out quickly. It was about six in the morning but still quite dark outside, and there were two lines of men on either side of the alley that houses the bilhetaria (ticket office). I asked the man at the end of the line if they'd started selling tickets yet.
"They start at 4:00 am."
"Oh, good, because it's six now..." and as I move past him towards the glass door, he stops me...
"Look, out there!"
And for a fraction of a second, I turn my head, before realizing this is a classic ploy to distract my attention. My head snaps back around and I look him full in the face. Encarando...daring him to do something. It is obvious that no one wants me to go to the ticket office...and they're willing to impede my way. So we start talking, and they morph into big, punky street boys, who don't want to tell me their real names. One is nicknamed "Medo." Fear. I refuse to accept this and pressure him for his real name, which is Francisco something-or-other...and I berate them for having robbed a friend of mine the night before. They become all sheepish and try to change the subject. We stay in this mode for a while and then I find myself by the glass doors. The doorman is the only person in the place, and in spite of the crowd's mocking that I'll never get in, he opens the doors and escorts me in as if I were a VIP, whisking me off to the roof, talking all the while as if we were friends from childhood. He is cute and yet somehow irreconcilably deformed, and when we arrive at the top floor, my sleepy mind can't help but make Hunchback of Notre Dame correlations. He steps out to the very edge of the flat roof; I, afraid of heights, slip by on my belly and poke my nose out to watch the commotions in the square below. The groups of men look like soldiers preparing for gang warfare. Going back inside, the green mermaid-ish statue on the far wall winks at me, trying to initiate a conversation. The doorman reminds her gently that I don' t want to end up like her...
We exit the ticket office and I'm suddenly with Rich and Rebecca and Ben, wandering around the city waiting for the street kids, taking them to creepy cafeterias with security cameras on the walls, mansions with the possibility of secret rooms, and waiting in vain for something big to happen. There are so many people, all crowding crowding crowding, wanting things and pushing...babies crying...the oppression and danger so real that waking, I find my shoulders tied in an intricacy of knots...my mind confused, from a dream so tinged with reality that I feel tainted and stay grumpy for hours, not having the means to take a shower and wash away such a vividly haunting memory...
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Saturday, April 28, 2007
First night at the opera
My friend Noadia has a birthday coming up and I wanted to do something a little different for her birthday, so I got two tickets for the opera. "The Marriage of Figaro" was playing as the first opera of the season at the Theatro Municipal...and she'd never been.
I nearly had an anxiety attack, such was my desire to have everything perfect for tonight. First, because it rained, taking away all possibility of taking a bus or taxi (traffic in this city is ridiculous when there's the slightest bit of rain)...because we ran more than a half an hour late...because the bus that took us to the metro station tried to bypass the station all together...and because we arrived fifteen minutes after the printed performance time. But this is Rio de Janeiro, and thankfully, we weren't the last people arriving. So once I caught my breath, I was able to enjoy the show...
My friend was beautiful to see, totally enraptured by what was going on...she didn't ask me any questions, she later admitted, because she was too afraid to miss what was going on on the supertitles and be completely lost for the rest of the night! But there was a huge grin on her face and she laughed and caught her breath and sat open-jawed at all the right moments...and was the first person to rise when the curtain went down...
She also paid WAY more attention than I even did...and I had to explain about harpsichords and prima notte and got to feel sheepish when she remembered the names of some of the minor characters better than I did. Two things are for certain. One, it was a lovely night, and we both enjoyed ourselves immensely. And the second? Opera is just like a novella!
I nearly had an anxiety attack, such was my desire to have everything perfect for tonight. First, because it rained, taking away all possibility of taking a bus or taxi (traffic in this city is ridiculous when there's the slightest bit of rain)...because we ran more than a half an hour late...because the bus that took us to the metro station tried to bypass the station all together...and because we arrived fifteen minutes after the printed performance time. But this is Rio de Janeiro, and thankfully, we weren't the last people arriving. So once I caught my breath, I was able to enjoy the show...
My friend was beautiful to see, totally enraptured by what was going on...she didn't ask me any questions, she later admitted, because she was too afraid to miss what was going on on the supertitles and be completely lost for the rest of the night! But there was a huge grin on her face and she laughed and caught her breath and sat open-jawed at all the right moments...and was the first person to rise when the curtain went down...
She also paid WAY more attention than I even did...and I had to explain about harpsichords and prima notte and got to feel sheepish when she remembered the names of some of the minor characters better than I did. Two things are for certain. One, it was a lovely night, and we both enjoyed ourselves immensely. And the second? Opera is just like a novella!
Friday, April 27, 2007
Looks like rain...
There is a cool breeze blowing in and the sky is grey. Glory hallelujuah!
This has been a week of odd animal sightings. First, there was the pair of horses grazing casually on the trash piled up in the middle of the road, and then yesterday, two young pigs taking a bath in the pot-holes at the back entrance to Manguinhos, their snouts and ears the only body parts sticking up above the road level...
Speaking of odd creatures...
I bought a comfortable chair the other week, and finally got our "friend" with a combi to bring it by my house. I had to bargain him down to a reasonable price, as he was charging me as much as a taxi...and for saving five reis, I was captive to his multi-level marketing, religiously-tinged aloe vera conversion scheme. Salespeople don't tend to like me, except for the ones for whom I am a loyal client. I know what I want and don't change my mind easily. I send almost everything they show me back out to the floor...I hate pushiness. And excess enthusiasm. You know how some people are repulsed and horrified by clowns? They're fascinating but frightening at the same time. Enthusiastic product cheerleaders do that to me. I want to stare at them...from behind a very thick glass wall where they can't get at me...and yesterday, I was enclosed in a vehicle with one for thirty minutes.
I can handle about five minutes of this man in a group. I hate buying furniture mostly because it means that I'll have to deal with him. So after three minutes of his insistent aloe vera this and aloe vera that, I snapped. I had been nice, given my best, "really, I'm not interested but thanks" speech and even faked some interest in going down to their headquarters at some very uncertain future date (2091, perhaps?) It was either the knee tapping to get my attention or the cream that did it. The aloe vera cream that made you lose "up to 16 centimeters instantly! Scientifically proven...though it's not a medicine, so we can't sell it in drugstores or anything. But it's okay, because we don't want to create vendors, we want to create consumers!!! Consumers!!!"
Not sure if he's insinuating that I need this miracle cream, I start to let him know what I really think. He's loosed the rabid Jenna and nothing will ever be the same again. :)
CrazyAloeMan-"We even have this makeup that the models sleep in. It's good for your skin so they sleep in it! You don't have to take it off! You should try it..."
Jenna-"I don't use makeup. And even if I did, I wouldn't want to sleep in it. Why would that be a selling point? It's makeup. You take it off eventually. It's sticky. It would get all over the pillow...If I want something that's good for my face, why not moisturizer????
CrazyAloeMan changing topics- "You use soap? We've got soap! You use shampoo? No? Why not? You should. Try ours. Oh, well, we've got shampoo. We've got conditioner. How do you know ours isn't better than the one you're using? Would you switch if it was scientifically proven to be better than the product you're currently using???? We've got conditioner! We've got toothpaste! Everything you need, we've got. And it's made out of aloe vera, which restores synovial fluid in your joints, regrows hair, burns localized fat, makes your sperm more potent..."
Rebuffed, harshly. I'm turning into a prickly porcupine who's getting ready to vomit a dictionary...but he's saved by his terse
"last word:"
"I think you're really closed minded and you're letting really great opportunities pass you by. As a consumer of our products, you'd be making money, a check that came to your house that you could spend any way you want...and you're saying no to this opportunity? You need to get your priorities in order."
Okay. I'll do that. Starting with getting out of this car...and never ever ever ever buying furniture that requires use of your vehicle. Or just coughing up an extra ten reis and having a peaceful ride with a total stranger...
This has been a week of odd animal sightings. First, there was the pair of horses grazing casually on the trash piled up in the middle of the road, and then yesterday, two young pigs taking a bath in the pot-holes at the back entrance to Manguinhos, their snouts and ears the only body parts sticking up above the road level...
Speaking of odd creatures...
I bought a comfortable chair the other week, and finally got our "friend" with a combi to bring it by my house. I had to bargain him down to a reasonable price, as he was charging me as much as a taxi...and for saving five reis, I was captive to his multi-level marketing, religiously-tinged aloe vera conversion scheme. Salespeople don't tend to like me, except for the ones for whom I am a loyal client. I know what I want and don't change my mind easily. I send almost everything they show me back out to the floor...I hate pushiness. And excess enthusiasm. You know how some people are repulsed and horrified by clowns? They're fascinating but frightening at the same time. Enthusiastic product cheerleaders do that to me. I want to stare at them...from behind a very thick glass wall where they can't get at me...and yesterday, I was enclosed in a vehicle with one for thirty minutes.
I can handle about five minutes of this man in a group. I hate buying furniture mostly because it means that I'll have to deal with him. So after three minutes of his insistent aloe vera this and aloe vera that, I snapped. I had been nice, given my best, "really, I'm not interested but thanks" speech and even faked some interest in going down to their headquarters at some very uncertain future date (2091, perhaps?) It was either the knee tapping to get my attention or the cream that did it. The aloe vera cream that made you lose "up to 16 centimeters instantly! Scientifically proven...though it's not a medicine, so we can't sell it in drugstores or anything. But it's okay, because we don't want to create vendors, we want to create consumers!!! Consumers!!!"
Not sure if he's insinuating that I need this miracle cream, I start to let him know what I really think. He's loosed the rabid Jenna and nothing will ever be the same again. :)
CrazyAloeMan-"We even have this makeup that the models sleep in. It's good for your skin so they sleep in it! You don't have to take it off! You should try it..."
Jenna-"I don't use makeup. And even if I did, I wouldn't want to sleep in it. Why would that be a selling point? It's makeup. You take it off eventually. It's sticky. It would get all over the pillow...If I want something that's good for my face, why not moisturizer????
CrazyAloeMan changing topics- "You use soap? We've got soap! You use shampoo? No? Why not? You should. Try ours. Oh, well, we've got shampoo. We've got conditioner. How do you know ours isn't better than the one you're using? Would you switch if it was scientifically proven to be better than the product you're currently using???? We've got conditioner! We've got toothpaste! Everything you need, we've got. And it's made out of aloe vera, which restores synovial fluid in your joints, regrows hair, burns localized fat, makes your sperm more potent..."
Rebuffed, harshly. I'm turning into a prickly porcupine who's getting ready to vomit a dictionary...but he's saved by his terse
"last word:"
"I think you're really closed minded and you're letting really great opportunities pass you by. As a consumer of our products, you'd be making money, a check that came to your house that you could spend any way you want...and you're saying no to this opportunity? You need to get your priorities in order."
Okay. I'll do that. Starting with getting out of this car...and never ever ever ever buying furniture that requires use of your vehicle. Or just coughing up an extra ten reis and having a peaceful ride with a total stranger...
Sunday, April 22, 2007
On meeting a blog friend...
So I met my blog friend Ali on Friday. She's in my links if you'd like to check out her site, which is fun and, (now that we've met I can say this) a lot like her. We met up at an antique store in Lapa, which was already a good sign...she introduced me to her lovely caretaker whose name I promptly forgot but whose face and gentle smile is unforgettable. Catching a bus up to Santa Teresa, Ali showed me her gorgeous Casa Rosa, which is less house and more mansion and enviably gorgeous. I was, however, entranced not by the house but by the library room with all four walls covered floor to ceiling in bookshelves...still mostly empty. I volunteer myself to help choose filler books, Ali! Bookstores are my weakness! We had a fantastic lunch at a little natural foods café, where they served the chicken and fish breaded in granola and the pineapple juice was flecked with fresh mint.
We hit it off...from the identical Moleskine pocket journals we carry around, our mutual love of artisical things and jewelry making in particular, to our musings on the Rio scene and life as expatriates...there was lots of laughter, lots of walking, and a late afternoon on the beach. I'm sad she doesn't live in Rio...
I want to post a picture of the stunning necklace Ali gave me, an original creation. It's glass, with silver foil and dark brown lines and circles streaming through the blue organic leaf...apparently, she keeps a blow torch on her kitchen counter to do glassmaking...I have received so many compliments on this necklace in the two days I've worn it! Thank you Ali!
We hit it off...from the identical Moleskine pocket journals we carry around, our mutual love of artisical things and jewelry making in particular, to our musings on the Rio scene and life as expatriates...there was lots of laughter, lots of walking, and a late afternoon on the beach. I'm sad she doesn't live in Rio...
I want to post a picture of the stunning necklace Ali gave me, an original creation. It's glass, with silver foil and dark brown lines and circles streaming through the blue organic leaf...apparently, she keeps a blow torch on her kitchen counter to do glassmaking...I have received so many compliments on this necklace in the two days I've worn it! Thank you Ali!
Saturday, April 21, 2007
It's much too late...
and I've been on the internet for what seems like hours. Thankfully, my phone was fixed while I was out, which is blessed news! Water is still scarce though.
This evening was quite really splendid. The meeting at Projeto VIdinha didn't go too long, and I was a bit lost as to what I was going to do on a Saturday night. On a whim, I called up a friend who lives in the Tijuca area. She and another friend were just arriving home and invited me over. We watched several episodes of scrubs, drank orange juice and ate yummy chocolate croissants from the charming bakery around the corner...and then decided to go out for dinner. For salads, which are somewhat of a rarity in Rio. We got a card on which we were supposed to pick twelve different items (including such delicacies as salmon, sun-dried tomatoes, and palm hearts) and one dressing...a half plate was HUGE and cost about three dollars. Our poor waiter! I know he was expecting a nice fat check when three English speaking girls sat down...and our total bill was R$30! It was great. Even my superstrong limeade that didn't get sweet no matter how much sugar went into it...pure acid, I'm afraid, but it's warding off any cold bugs!
We then moved downstairs in the mall to a chocolate store where my friend swore they served the best cappucinos ever. I cannot vouch for the cappucinos, because it was late and we were afraid of the caffeine content. But their Mexican hot chocolate, thick as soup with a mug on the side just for the whipped cream and tiny cookie complements, gave new meaning to the word heavenly. This was chocolate from the gods. This was the reason chocolate is "better than sex." Decadent. Divine. Awe-inspiring. There are no words to describe how perfectly wonderful this cup of hot chocolate was. All other chocolate should be outlawed...those grainy bars of milk chocolate, the pasty, waxy commercialized chunks. It's a defilement, a slur on the reputation of something so otherworldly and sensual. We were stupefied for the fifteen minutes it took us to sip it down...
I also realized how outrageously expensive the store was...and thought back to the bar of chocolate a long-gone and frustrated admirer had given me once many months ago...it must have set him back a small fortune. I'm afraid I wasn't all that appreciative at the time. He was too cynical for my taste in the end, and I was looking for a way to say "not interested" gracefully...and his interest eventually fizzed. But I think back on that chocolate bar and our heated conversations and think how nice it is to know you're valued, especially if the weight's in chocolate at nearly R$20 for 100 grams!
This evening was quite really splendid. The meeting at Projeto VIdinha didn't go too long, and I was a bit lost as to what I was going to do on a Saturday night. On a whim, I called up a friend who lives in the Tijuca area. She and another friend were just arriving home and invited me over. We watched several episodes of scrubs, drank orange juice and ate yummy chocolate croissants from the charming bakery around the corner...and then decided to go out for dinner. For salads, which are somewhat of a rarity in Rio. We got a card on which we were supposed to pick twelve different items (including such delicacies as salmon, sun-dried tomatoes, and palm hearts) and one dressing...a half plate was HUGE and cost about three dollars. Our poor waiter! I know he was expecting a nice fat check when three English speaking girls sat down...and our total bill was R$30! It was great. Even my superstrong limeade that didn't get sweet no matter how much sugar went into it...pure acid, I'm afraid, but it's warding off any cold bugs!
We then moved downstairs in the mall to a chocolate store where my friend swore they served the best cappucinos ever. I cannot vouch for the cappucinos, because it was late and we were afraid of the caffeine content. But their Mexican hot chocolate, thick as soup with a mug on the side just for the whipped cream and tiny cookie complements, gave new meaning to the word heavenly. This was chocolate from the gods. This was the reason chocolate is "better than sex." Decadent. Divine. Awe-inspiring. There are no words to describe how perfectly wonderful this cup of hot chocolate was. All other chocolate should be outlawed...those grainy bars of milk chocolate, the pasty, waxy commercialized chunks. It's a defilement, a slur on the reputation of something so otherworldly and sensual. We were stupefied for the fifteen minutes it took us to sip it down...
I also realized how outrageously expensive the store was...and thought back to the bar of chocolate a long-gone and frustrated admirer had given me once many months ago...it must have set him back a small fortune. I'm afraid I wasn't all that appreciative at the time. He was too cynical for my taste in the end, and I was looking for a way to say "not interested" gracefully...and his interest eventually fizzed. But I think back on that chocolate bar and our heated conversations and think how nice it is to know you're valued, especially if the weight's in chocolate at nearly R$20 for 100 grams!
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Still no phone...
but I'm coping. My blog friend Ali from Mozambique is coming down this weekend to spend some time in Rio and we're going to get together for the first time. Should be fun.
I've learned how to really economize water. It feels like three weeks, but if I'm counting right, it's only been about 12 days that we've been living like this. Still...twelve days is a lot.
I tried my hand at making cebiche tonight and I have to say that I was less than pleased with the results...I don't know why I thought it was going to be so good. I never liked it in Peru, but I've been having this CRAVING for cebiche...maybe it was just a misplaced sushi desire. I think I like wasabi better than lime for my raw fish, thank you very much!
I'm also learning how to reimagine my life as a single woman. Tiago and I parted more or less amicably the other week...it's a bit odd to be putting this out on the internet, but heck, I write all sorts of other personal information on this blog. We were...and not we're not. There's not much more to say on that end, other than that I'm doing so well it actually makes me feel a little bad. God is being so incredibly good to me and changing the way I look at everything, so that even though I know that I love(d) him, I don't feel the incredible heartache I expected. I just wake up every morning and pray for him and all the other people I love and then jump out of bed with a night's worth of bad dreams in my eyes and a praise song in my heart...which isn't a bad way to live, actually.
There are all sorts of things that change when you're single and it's always awkward to re-discover them. Like not breaking eye contact with interesting strangers...smiling at people without worrying if it is going to give them the wrong idea...no more early morning "hi, have a wonderful day" phone calls...no late night "sleep well" cellphone messages...wearing whatever the heck you want to when going out because you don't have someone else by your side (it can be embarrassing when one partner is wearing shorts and a tee shirt and the other is in heels and serious jewlery...and that's happened on more than one occasion!)...watching whatever movies I want...wearing inappropriate pj's around the house at all times of the day...no more other's people's opinions, favorite foods in the refrigerator, or beauty products left in the sink. Though I guess I was the one leaving beauty products in the sink more than him...:)
It's slightly harder to find people willing to do things at the drop of a hat, and I'm having to re-learn that adventuresome spirit that used to take me everywhere alone. Now I like to have someone with me, and it's partly out of habit and partly because this city has gotten so much more dangerous that being alone actually makes me nervous. I've never been like that before. But sometimes I sit on the bus and I think about how I would react if someone came by to rob us...and I realize that this isn't healthy or normal. Anxiety has gotten tied up in my shoulders and all the tiny muscles of my lower back, a constant reminder that living in sin (because worry is sin) never pays off. I'm taking steps to change that, to let my faith blossom and trust that God is bigger than my itsy bitsy "real world' fears. But it's never an overnight thing. I just hope that two months from now I'll be able to look back and see how much these tiny steps have added up...
I've learned how to really economize water. It feels like three weeks, but if I'm counting right, it's only been about 12 days that we've been living like this. Still...twelve days is a lot.
I tried my hand at making cebiche tonight and I have to say that I was less than pleased with the results...I don't know why I thought it was going to be so good. I never liked it in Peru, but I've been having this CRAVING for cebiche...maybe it was just a misplaced sushi desire. I think I like wasabi better than lime for my raw fish, thank you very much!
I'm also learning how to reimagine my life as a single woman. Tiago and I parted more or less amicably the other week...it's a bit odd to be putting this out on the internet, but heck, I write all sorts of other personal information on this blog. We were...and not we're not. There's not much more to say on that end, other than that I'm doing so well it actually makes me feel a little bad. God is being so incredibly good to me and changing the way I look at everything, so that even though I know that I love(d) him, I don't feel the incredible heartache I expected. I just wake up every morning and pray for him and all the other people I love and then jump out of bed with a night's worth of bad dreams in my eyes and a praise song in my heart...which isn't a bad way to live, actually.
There are all sorts of things that change when you're single and it's always awkward to re-discover them. Like not breaking eye contact with interesting strangers...smiling at people without worrying if it is going to give them the wrong idea...no more early morning "hi, have a wonderful day" phone calls...no late night "sleep well" cellphone messages...wearing whatever the heck you want to when going out because you don't have someone else by your side (it can be embarrassing when one partner is wearing shorts and a tee shirt and the other is in heels and serious jewlery...and that's happened on more than one occasion!)...watching whatever movies I want...wearing inappropriate pj's around the house at all times of the day...no more other's people's opinions, favorite foods in the refrigerator, or beauty products left in the sink. Though I guess I was the one leaving beauty products in the sink more than him...:)
It's slightly harder to find people willing to do things at the drop of a hat, and I'm having to re-learn that adventuresome spirit that used to take me everywhere alone. Now I like to have someone with me, and it's partly out of habit and partly because this city has gotten so much more dangerous that being alone actually makes me nervous. I've never been like that before. But sometimes I sit on the bus and I think about how I would react if someone came by to rob us...and I realize that this isn't healthy or normal. Anxiety has gotten tied up in my shoulders and all the tiny muscles of my lower back, a constant reminder that living in sin (because worry is sin) never pays off. I'm taking steps to change that, to let my faith blossom and trust that God is bigger than my itsy bitsy "real world' fears. But it's never an overnight thing. I just hope that two months from now I'll be able to look back and see how much these tiny steps have added up...
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Clube Biblico
My friends from Higienópolis are always busy on Tuesday nights. Last night, they took me along and I saw why they would spend an hour on a bus, fifteen minutes walking, and another hour and a half trying to get home at nearly midnight all for a church service. "Clube Bíblico" is a really cheesy name but the service was amazing. Great music, great preaching, some one hundred and fifty people all in the 18-35 age range...
I felt like I was in America...well, a Portuguese-speaking America anyhow.
Getting home was a beast thought. Noádia and I were in heels and we had to walk about a mile from Bonsucesso to our homes at 11:30 at night. I got home a good fifteen minutes after midnight, but it was worth it!
Something was hanging over my head the whole time though...most of the people at the service were white. By Brazilian standards anyway. Rich blonds that you can only get out of a salon and super-expensive at that were scattered all through the pews and the men were mostly metrosexuals. It was a very upper-class group and it showed. As much as I loved the service, found the people charming and will be going back, I wonder. Is this a church where everyone would feel welcome? Or am I just feeling welcomed because I fit in and have blue eyes??? Am I judging on appearances? I'll have to get to know them more to find out...and there are plenty of Tuesday nights left in this year!
I felt like I was in America...well, a Portuguese-speaking America anyhow.
Getting home was a beast thought. Noádia and I were in heels and we had to walk about a mile from Bonsucesso to our homes at 11:30 at night. I got home a good fifteen minutes after midnight, but it was worth it!
Something was hanging over my head the whole time though...most of the people at the service were white. By Brazilian standards anyway. Rich blonds that you can only get out of a salon and super-expensive at that were scattered all through the pews and the men were mostly metrosexuals. It was a very upper-class group and it showed. As much as I loved the service, found the people charming and will be going back, I wonder. Is this a church where everyone would feel welcome? Or am I just feeling welcomed because I fit in and have blue eyes??? Am I judging on appearances? I'll have to get to know them more to find out...and there are plenty of Tuesday nights left in this year!
Not grumpy but...
There are two horses eating the trash piled outside my house. Someone walked by and said, “Hey, how are you liking it here?” And I thought to myself, “Can’t wait to leave...” but gave her a much more courteous answer. This morning, I awoke rested and refreshed to find a bag of flour silently spilling its contents over the counters and floor, my tin of olive oil under a chair, the plastic cap and spout removed and chewed off, and a piece of something cork-ish (which I’m still trying to identify) near the door. Great. Now I have rats too. In addition to the medium sized golden whiskered cockroaches that inhabit my home ever since all these problems started three weeks ago. April just hasn’t been my month. So I cleaned up the mess and took the trash out, but I still have to remember to clean the cockroach carcass off the table. There are so many, and I don't have any napkins in the house (note to self: MUST GO SHOPPING!) that sometimes when there's no water, I just leave them there and clean them up much later, when I can clean the washcloth off. Which is really disgusting. I hope maybe the dead bodies of their comrades will have a demoralizing effect on the others, too.
Yesterday, I wrote:
I woke up this morning to the surprising sound of water. Apparently it rained last night. I heard nothing. But the water outside has nothing to do with the water that’s not coming up my pipes. Our street is still nearly water-less, and no one can tell us when that situation is going to change. I got home today from work and my telephone line isn’t working. What’s that law about how bad things always come in threes??? I can’t decide if the first bad thing was my refrigerator breaking. Because if so, then I’m safe. But if not, it means that probably my electricity is going to be cut off…
At least I pay a light bill so I can complain to someone should that happen…
Anyone have any ideas on how to raise $150,000.00 in a foreign country? Projeto Vidinha wants to buy a house. Twenty-one children and three adults don’t fit so well into a three-bedroom house…
Yesterday, I wrote:
I woke up this morning to the surprising sound of water. Apparently it rained last night. I heard nothing. But the water outside has nothing to do with the water that’s not coming up my pipes. Our street is still nearly water-less, and no one can tell us when that situation is going to change. I got home today from work and my telephone line isn’t working. What’s that law about how bad things always come in threes??? I can’t decide if the first bad thing was my refrigerator breaking. Because if so, then I’m safe. But if not, it means that probably my electricity is going to be cut off…
At least I pay a light bill so I can complain to someone should that happen…
Anyone have any ideas on how to raise $150,000.00 in a foreign country? Projeto Vidinha wants to buy a house. Twenty-one children and three adults don’t fit so well into a three-bedroom house…
Saturday, April 14, 2007
A Real Live Saturday
In an Ali-inspired moment, I decided to photograph my latest creations. “Em verdade” these are my first creations in I don’t know how long. I finally got a chance to go down to the Saara fair and pick up some simple glass beads and cheap clasps. I can’t wait to find real things: silver, semi-precious beads, etc...in this city. I just don’t know where to look! But I went all vain and took most of the pictures in my bathroom, because it’s the best light you can get in my house. It is otherwise useless, as I have been without water for over a week now. At least it can double as a photography studio!
This first necklace is just whimsy; a wooden elephant keychain from Africa I never used as a keychain, a wooden and a glass bead, and a strip of suede holding it all together.
The second set is über-feminine: a string of seed beads reworked with purple glass into a two-strand necklace with a pendant drop of purple glass beads.
I’m proud of this sea-colored necklace, which is made almost entirely from scraps of other necklaces. The disk is a mother-of-pearl button that used to belong to my great-grandmother, as did several of the opaque glass, stone and chalky black beads. Others are acrylic beads, natural materials, raw turquoise, one amber disk, a couple dark blue ones I think were lapis lazuli I bought in Colorado but can no longer remember for sure (the bead shop was run by a man who was definitely making his money on the Guatemalan marijuana and not the beads. I do remember that! This was in a town where the best restaurant was also an old whorehouse where the ladies were, legend has it, required to go to church on Sundays, on orders of the madam. They had the best mints ever, wedding butter mints covered in dark chocolate. I would leave with pockets full. No one seemed to care about the minor candy theft or the aging hippie’s side business...). Some of the beads are new, but most of them have some significance to me. The earrings are another salvage job, with what I think is mother-of-pearl and green beads that match those in the necklace.
These pink earrings are fun and chunky. The bead looks like a big tooth, a molar or something, without the root...quirky. They just might be my everyday pair! The necklace was an attempt not to be too girly: I combined pink, red, and black beads together. The floral beads belonged to my great-grandmother.
Other than the fact I'm too skinny (that's mostly the result of not having had a refrigerator for a week, but all may rest easily now as I have a brand new fridge..which I took out of the packaging all by myself. And I moved the old one down a step and into the other room...by myself. I felt like such a WOMAN!!!), does anyone else notice that my eyes are HUGE?!?! No wonder I’m always receiving compliments, or harassment, on them. Why did I never notice before???
This first necklace is just whimsy; a wooden elephant keychain from Africa I never used as a keychain, a wooden and a glass bead, and a strip of suede holding it all together.
The second set is über-feminine: a string of seed beads reworked with purple glass into a two-strand necklace with a pendant drop of purple glass beads.
I’m proud of this sea-colored necklace, which is made almost entirely from scraps of other necklaces. The disk is a mother-of-pearl button that used to belong to my great-grandmother, as did several of the opaque glass, stone and chalky black beads. Others are acrylic beads, natural materials, raw turquoise, one amber disk, a couple dark blue ones I think were lapis lazuli I bought in Colorado but can no longer remember for sure (the bead shop was run by a man who was definitely making his money on the Guatemalan marijuana and not the beads. I do remember that! This was in a town where the best restaurant was also an old whorehouse where the ladies were, legend has it, required to go to church on Sundays, on orders of the madam. They had the best mints ever, wedding butter mints covered in dark chocolate. I would leave with pockets full. No one seemed to care about the minor candy theft or the aging hippie’s side business...). Some of the beads are new, but most of them have some significance to me. The earrings are another salvage job, with what I think is mother-of-pearl and green beads that match those in the necklace.
These pink earrings are fun and chunky. The bead looks like a big tooth, a molar or something, without the root...quirky. They just might be my everyday pair! The necklace was an attempt not to be too girly: I combined pink, red, and black beads together. The floral beads belonged to my great-grandmother.
Other than the fact I'm too skinny (that's mostly the result of not having had a refrigerator for a week, but all may rest easily now as I have a brand new fridge..which I took out of the packaging all by myself. And I moved the old one down a step and into the other room...by myself. I felt like such a WOMAN!!!), does anyone else notice that my eyes are HUGE?!?! No wonder I’m always receiving compliments, or harassment, on them. Why did I never notice before???
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Illegal immigrants...
I have a special place in my heart for the oppressed. That shouldn't be news to anyone. I loved the Sunday in college when I went to an immigrant church service in Indianapolis, and the congregation brought in a tax advisor to do a question and answer session with the members. He was this thin, stereotypical IRS guy in a scratchy gray suit, nervous twitch. His eyes nearly leapt out of his head when he realized that 3/4 of the people in the room were illegal immigrants! As if these people suddenly stopped being human beings and instead became hardened border-crossing criminals...I lived for a few months with a family whose father was an illegal immigrant in the United States, and I run into people all the time who have done their stint.
I understand some of the reasons why they'd come. And I can't hold it against them; after all, my relatives weren't invited over by the Cherokee or the Lenape or the Sioux, but they came anyway, with their smallpox and beads, their guns and their "God-given destiny." My well-bred (or not-so) English and German ancestors were simply put, illegal immigrants. They just didn't happen to land in a country that placed much value on that fact. But I digress. This wasn't supposed to be much of a rant, as there's plenty of intelligent information lying around about the immigration debate and I don't need to add fuel to any of these fires. Or incur the wrath of my president's anti-dissent services. Where was I??? Oh, yes.
This newspaper article made my day:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/04/09/AR2007040901471.html
Christian responses coming from local governments that radically challenge federal policies of discrimination and hate. Nice. And from Republicans and liberals alike??? Almost unthinkable. Did someone read Deuteronomy out loud in Conneticut???
Deut. 10:17-19
"For the LORD your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who shows no partiality and accepts no bribes. He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the alien, giving him food and clothing. And you are to love those who are aliens, for you yourselves were aliens in Egypt."
Deut. 24:14-15, 17-22
"You shall not defraud a poor and needy hired servant, whether he be one of your own countrymen or one of the aliens who live in your communities. You shall pay him each day's wages before sundown on the day itself, since he is poor and looks forward to them. Otherwise he will cry to the LORD against you, and you will be held guilty...You shall not violate the rights of the alien or of the orphan, nor take the clothing of a widow as a pledge. For, remember, you were once slaves in Egypt, and the LORD, your God, ransomed you from there; that is why I command you to observe this rule. When you reap the harvest in your field and overlook a sheaf there, you shall not go back to get it; let it be for the alien, the orphan or the widow, that the LORD, your God, may bless you in all your undertakings. When you knock down the fruit of your olive trees, you shall not go over the branches a second time; let what remains be for the alien, the orphan and the widow. When you pick your grapes, you shall not go over the vineyard a second time; let what remains be for the alien, the orphan, and the widow. For remember that you were once slaves in Egypt; that is why I command you to observe this rule."
Those passages must really unnerve certain "Christian" lawmakers. But maybe they don't read them, seeing as how they're in the un-PC Old Testament. But then there's that pesky little part in the New Testament where we read that Jesus and his family were refugees, probably illegal ones at that, in Egypt for a time...forming part of the personal history of someone who would later tell us to love our neighbors and our enemies. Hum.
I understand some of the reasons why they'd come. And I can't hold it against them; after all, my relatives weren't invited over by the Cherokee or the Lenape or the Sioux, but they came anyway, with their smallpox and beads, their guns and their "God-given destiny." My well-bred (or not-so) English and German ancestors were simply put, illegal immigrants. They just didn't happen to land in a country that placed much value on that fact. But I digress. This wasn't supposed to be much of a rant, as there's plenty of intelligent information lying around about the immigration debate and I don't need to add fuel to any of these fires. Or incur the wrath of my president's anti-dissent services. Where was I??? Oh, yes.
This newspaper article made my day:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/04/09/AR2007040901471.html
Christian responses coming from local governments that radically challenge federal policies of discrimination and hate. Nice. And from Republicans and liberals alike??? Almost unthinkable. Did someone read Deuteronomy out loud in Conneticut???
Deut. 10:17-19
"For the LORD your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who shows no partiality and accepts no bribes. He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the alien, giving him food and clothing. And you are to love those who are aliens, for you yourselves were aliens in Egypt."
Deut. 24:14-15, 17-22
"You shall not defraud a poor and needy hired servant, whether he be one of your own countrymen or one of the aliens who live in your communities. You shall pay him each day's wages before sundown on the day itself, since he is poor and looks forward to them. Otherwise he will cry to the LORD against you, and you will be held guilty...You shall not violate the rights of the alien or of the orphan, nor take the clothing of a widow as a pledge. For, remember, you were once slaves in Egypt, and the LORD, your God, ransomed you from there; that is why I command you to observe this rule. When you reap the harvest in your field and overlook a sheaf there, you shall not go back to get it; let it be for the alien, the orphan or the widow, that the LORD, your God, may bless you in all your undertakings. When you knock down the fruit of your olive trees, you shall not go over the branches a second time; let what remains be for the alien, the orphan and the widow. When you pick your grapes, you shall not go over the vineyard a second time; let what remains be for the alien, the orphan, and the widow. For remember that you were once slaves in Egypt; that is why I command you to observe this rule."
Those passages must really unnerve certain "Christian" lawmakers. But maybe they don't read them, seeing as how they're in the un-PC Old Testament. But then there's that pesky little part in the New Testament where we read that Jesus and his family were refugees, probably illegal ones at that, in Egypt for a time...forming part of the personal history of someone who would later tell us to love our neighbors and our enemies. Hum.
Saturday, April 07, 2007
An open letter to God. Warning. Contains bitterness.
God, what's going on?
I know all these women whose children have been taken away from them. A seven year old child not going to school I can understand. But a four-month old still-nursing baby? You know what those orphanges are like. Are they really that much better than the street? What will happen to these beautiful people?
The dollar has taken a nosedive. Now, when I'm ready to move out of the favela, I'm not sure I can. I can't find roommates because everyone lives with their parents. Travel costs are so much more than they were a few years ago; bus and metro fares seem to climb ten cents every six months. This summer has been blisteringly hot with almost no rain. That means food prices are skyrocketing; vegetables that used to cost fifty cents now cost R$1.50. How are people on minimum wage salaries supposed to feed their families with that kind of inflation??? As it is, minimum wage barely covers food costs for one person. This absence of rain leaves us all testy. Everything's dry. My house has been out of water for three days now. The elderly upstairs neighbor doesn't get a drop of anything. She's taking her arthritic legs up and down the stairs a couple times of day to fill buckets at the faucet by the street. At least I still have what's left in the tank and get enough water sneaking up my pipes to flush the toilet once a day and fill a bucket with water. But the water's so full of sediment I'm afraid to even wash my dishes in it. We don't even get water bills, so who are we supposed to complain to? Dona A-, the aforementioned upstairs neighbor, talked to you about it in the bathroom this morning...now her husband thinks she's crazy. But really, you're about the only person we can complain to.
Can you do something about the infestation of tiny cockroaches in my house too? I try to kill them but they're so much faster than me. And they run rampant over everything.
My refrigerator officially died a few days ago. Appliances seem to know when holidays are approaching and exchange rates are dropping, so that I am as screwed over as possible when it comes time to buy. If I manage to buy the refrigerator I saw on sale today, it still won't be delivered until Wednesday. But, seeing as how my credit cards were all declined even after assuring their respective fraud departments that I lived in Brazil and was really trying to make this legitimate purchase, perhaps having a refrigerator in the midst of this heat wave is not in your plans for me. Like not having water.
Do you want me to feel like I'm living in Africa or India for a bit? You do realize that they probably don't have to go to sleep to the sound of machine gun fire, or wake up with sore bones from a night spent on the (relatively) safe kitchen floor? That they don't have police helicopters whirring over their communities, cops staking out the exits, hiding in the corners and scaring the living daylights out of everyone who passes with their guns and short tempers? And when I came back this afternoon, I saw a cop car parked in an alley and the officers holding about ten young men lined up against the wall...please tell me that wasn't an assassination or yet another massive bribery. The number of people who were shot last year as a result of "balas perdidas" is shocking. 224. Just in our city. Just mistakes. This year? In March, 7 people died and 34 people were injured by "balas perdidas." That's one per day. And that doesn't include the 500 or so homicides that happen every month. A little boy died today because some guy tried to shoot a pitbull and missed. I'm not sure that living here is helping my old NRA sympathies at all; and yet living here is like living in the warzone between two groups of criminals. The only difference? One set wears bulletproof (though expired) vests and badges. We pray for peace in this city, but we don't even know what that means anymore. Do you?
And to top it all off, I think I'm single again. We didn't really end on a very good note when Tiago left the other night, so maybe we are and maybe we're not. This isn't what either of us wanted, but how are we supposed to sustain a relationship under these conditions? Under this kind of stress? Unemployment in this city is absurd. I see the lines of people downtown waiting to drop off their resumes, knowing that it's futile because the job will go to so-and-so's nephew, the boss's son-in-law, etc...Even speaking excellent English isn't going to assure him of a job. But he's trying. Dang, how he's trying. Can't you help out a little? I know all the churches in this city seem to preach a prosperity gospel, and maybe we're buying into it, but how does it help your marketing campaign when your followers find only locked doors and automated voices saying "Sorry, no, no, no, no, sorry, can't, no?"
And it's Easter. I guess I'll be celebrating with warm water and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, alone. What fun.
In case you're reading this, I love responses. And preferably ones that are decipherable. I'm really not that bitter. I just want to take a shower and get one good night's sleep and know that you're good and you love us here in Rio. That you haven't left for cooler climates...
I know all these women whose children have been taken away from them. A seven year old child not going to school I can understand. But a four-month old still-nursing baby? You know what those orphanges are like. Are they really that much better than the street? What will happen to these beautiful people?
The dollar has taken a nosedive. Now, when I'm ready to move out of the favela, I'm not sure I can. I can't find roommates because everyone lives with their parents. Travel costs are so much more than they were a few years ago; bus and metro fares seem to climb ten cents every six months. This summer has been blisteringly hot with almost no rain. That means food prices are skyrocketing; vegetables that used to cost fifty cents now cost R$1.50. How are people on minimum wage salaries supposed to feed their families with that kind of inflation??? As it is, minimum wage barely covers food costs for one person. This absence of rain leaves us all testy. Everything's dry. My house has been out of water for three days now. The elderly upstairs neighbor doesn't get a drop of anything. She's taking her arthritic legs up and down the stairs a couple times of day to fill buckets at the faucet by the street. At least I still have what's left in the tank and get enough water sneaking up my pipes to flush the toilet once a day and fill a bucket with water. But the water's so full of sediment I'm afraid to even wash my dishes in it. We don't even get water bills, so who are we supposed to complain to? Dona A-, the aforementioned upstairs neighbor, talked to you about it in the bathroom this morning...now her husband thinks she's crazy. But really, you're about the only person we can complain to.
Can you do something about the infestation of tiny cockroaches in my house too? I try to kill them but they're so much faster than me. And they run rampant over everything.
My refrigerator officially died a few days ago. Appliances seem to know when holidays are approaching and exchange rates are dropping, so that I am as screwed over as possible when it comes time to buy. If I manage to buy the refrigerator I saw on sale today, it still won't be delivered until Wednesday. But, seeing as how my credit cards were all declined even after assuring their respective fraud departments that I lived in Brazil and was really trying to make this legitimate purchase, perhaps having a refrigerator in the midst of this heat wave is not in your plans for me. Like not having water.
Do you want me to feel like I'm living in Africa or India for a bit? You do realize that they probably don't have to go to sleep to the sound of machine gun fire, or wake up with sore bones from a night spent on the (relatively) safe kitchen floor? That they don't have police helicopters whirring over their communities, cops staking out the exits, hiding in the corners and scaring the living daylights out of everyone who passes with their guns and short tempers? And when I came back this afternoon, I saw a cop car parked in an alley and the officers holding about ten young men lined up against the wall...please tell me that wasn't an assassination or yet another massive bribery. The number of people who were shot last year as a result of "balas perdidas" is shocking. 224. Just in our city. Just mistakes. This year? In March, 7 people died and 34 people were injured by "balas perdidas." That's one per day. And that doesn't include the 500 or so homicides that happen every month. A little boy died today because some guy tried to shoot a pitbull and missed. I'm not sure that living here is helping my old NRA sympathies at all; and yet living here is like living in the warzone between two groups of criminals. The only difference? One set wears bulletproof (though expired) vests and badges. We pray for peace in this city, but we don't even know what that means anymore. Do you?
And to top it all off, I think I'm single again. We didn't really end on a very good note when Tiago left the other night, so maybe we are and maybe we're not. This isn't what either of us wanted, but how are we supposed to sustain a relationship under these conditions? Under this kind of stress? Unemployment in this city is absurd. I see the lines of people downtown waiting to drop off their resumes, knowing that it's futile because the job will go to so-and-so's nephew, the boss's son-in-law, etc...Even speaking excellent English isn't going to assure him of a job. But he's trying. Dang, how he's trying. Can't you help out a little? I know all the churches in this city seem to preach a prosperity gospel, and maybe we're buying into it, but how does it help your marketing campaign when your followers find only locked doors and automated voices saying "Sorry, no, no, no, no, sorry, can't, no?"
And it's Easter. I guess I'll be celebrating with warm water and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, alone. What fun.
In case you're reading this, I love responses. And preferably ones that are decipherable. I'm really not that bitter. I just want to take a shower and get one good night's sleep and know that you're good and you love us here in Rio. That you haven't left for cooler climates...
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Rememberings
Today was one of those days so full of perfect moments that they are difficult to slip into words. There was the Nabokov story I read at tea, whose lines reminded me of Russia's forests and the austere beauty I encountered there, but also, touched a remembering place inside me:
"Without reasoning, without considering, only entirely surrendering to an attraction the truth of which consisted in its own strength, a strength which he had never experienced before, Vasiliy Ivanovich in one radient second realized that here in this little room with that view, beautiful to the verge of tears, life would at last be what he had always wished it to be. What exactly it would be like, what would take place here, that of course he did not know, but all around him were help, promise, and consolation-so that there could not be any doubt that he must live here. In a moment he figured out how he would manage it so as not to have to return to Berlin again, how to get the few possessions that he had-books, the blue suit, her photograph..."
One afternoon, in 2003, I walked across the Praça XV in Rio de Janeiro and knew that my life would never be the same. I was being led down a path I couldn't see, but was gladly following, in which moving all my books and favorite clothes would be a joy...and somehow, even then, I knew that I would always be homesick for this city. As of course, I am. Traveling always excites me, but I ache for this place when I am gone. I may always be a stranger, but I am a stranger come home.
At Candelaria, the boys choir, with a lingering pennywhistle and their delicate vibratos, closed the evening off with "Shenandoah." I nearly cried. That song reminds me of things I don't know that I ever experienced, a sort of cultural memory, in which water and longing merge and flow across the landscape...I sang part of this song in high school, as a duet, in a combination of "The Water is Wide/Shenandoah." I loved it so much that I sang "The Water is Wide" as my college entrance examination piece but failed miserably in my presentation because I realized too late that it was the merger of the two together that had caught my interest...and I kept thinking "Shenandoah" when I should have been singing "My love and I...." And it made me think of the frothy White River and how people never really forget the place that gave them their name, no matter what kind of love/hate relationship we may have with that bit of land.
Leaving the church, I think of the street children we know, wondering if there will ever be a chance to bring them to things this beautiful. There were so few non-white faces in the audience. And too, this is the place where red outlines of dead children are forever marked into the sidewalk, as a testimony to the harsh legacy of this city I love, where brutality coincides with beauty, and a church can also be dying grounds...outside McDonalds, we say hello to our deaf/mute friend who lives on the streets and greets us with a huge gap-toothed smile as we attempt communication with our rather useless hands. Nothing I do makes as much sense as words and yet words are exactly what I cannot use...
Coming home, the moon was full, and was floating in the middle of a dainty cloud in the shape of an angelfish, with a puckered mouth and long fins...a giant, glowing eye in the midst of a dark sea. It made me smile...
And now I will sleep. God's blessings on you all. It's been a lovely day.
"Without reasoning, without considering, only entirely surrendering to an attraction the truth of which consisted in its own strength, a strength which he had never experienced before, Vasiliy Ivanovich in one radient second realized that here in this little room with that view, beautiful to the verge of tears, life would at last be what he had always wished it to be. What exactly it would be like, what would take place here, that of course he did not know, but all around him were help, promise, and consolation-so that there could not be any doubt that he must live here. In a moment he figured out how he would manage it so as not to have to return to Berlin again, how to get the few possessions that he had-books, the blue suit, her photograph..."
One afternoon, in 2003, I walked across the Praça XV in Rio de Janeiro and knew that my life would never be the same. I was being led down a path I couldn't see, but was gladly following, in which moving all my books and favorite clothes would be a joy...and somehow, even then, I knew that I would always be homesick for this city. As of course, I am. Traveling always excites me, but I ache for this place when I am gone. I may always be a stranger, but I am a stranger come home.
At Candelaria, the boys choir, with a lingering pennywhistle and their delicate vibratos, closed the evening off with "Shenandoah." I nearly cried. That song reminds me of things I don't know that I ever experienced, a sort of cultural memory, in which water and longing merge and flow across the landscape...I sang part of this song in high school, as a duet, in a combination of "The Water is Wide/Shenandoah." I loved it so much that I sang "The Water is Wide" as my college entrance examination piece but failed miserably in my presentation because I realized too late that it was the merger of the two together that had caught my interest...and I kept thinking "Shenandoah" when I should have been singing "My love and I...." And it made me think of the frothy White River and how people never really forget the place that gave them their name, no matter what kind of love/hate relationship we may have with that bit of land.
Leaving the church, I think of the street children we know, wondering if there will ever be a chance to bring them to things this beautiful. There were so few non-white faces in the audience. And too, this is the place where red outlines of dead children are forever marked into the sidewalk, as a testimony to the harsh legacy of this city I love, where brutality coincides with beauty, and a church can also be dying grounds...outside McDonalds, we say hello to our deaf/mute friend who lives on the streets and greets us with a huge gap-toothed smile as we attempt communication with our rather useless hands. Nothing I do makes as much sense as words and yet words are exactly what I cannot use...
Coming home, the moon was full, and was floating in the middle of a dainty cloud in the shape of an angelfish, with a puckered mouth and long fins...a giant, glowing eye in the midst of a dark sea. It made me smile...
And now I will sleep. God's blessings on you all. It's been a lovely day.
Journaling the day
I woke up this morning to the shrimp car. It is a distasteful thing for those who like silence in the mornings. It is white, with a megaphone sitting on the roof, and it drives very slowly to exibit foam coolers full of fat grey shrimp with the whiskers still on them. And the driver shouts into the microphone, which is projected very loudly at 9:00 in the morning:
R$10 SHRIMP FOR ONLY R$3! TRES REIS! TRES REIS!!! WAKE UP!!!! SHRIIIIMMMPPPP!!!
It was 9:00; I overslept just a little. There was a bit of hustle, throwing things in my bag, taking a shower, making breakfast pancakes. I opened my freezer. Everything melted. Again. This required a detour on my way to the bus stop. When the refrigerator guy saw me coming, in my power heels and big bag and no-nonsense stalking towards him, he actually HID from me! But he'll be coming tomorrow to take my refrigerator away and replace it with something else that's probably just as defective as this one...because I'm not going Easter weekend without refrigeration if I can help it. And after all, he's "never lost a client. Especially not an American one..."
There were boring tasks to be completed today but they went by much faster than I had anticipated, so I wandered around downtown. My last stop sent me into the Banco de Brasil Cultural Center where I discovered their library, complete with reading room, lots of plush chairs, tons of English language books, fat encyclopedias (including some I've seen at Dona Dora's!) and AIR CONDITIONING. I'm so going to hide out there! I had tea at the tea room, with a yummy almond pie-cake thing, quiche, and a huge pot of cafe com leite all to myself. Mmm...
Today was our girls' night out with Isabella and Rayane from Projeto Vidinha. We went to see the Westminster Boys Choir for free at the Candelaria church downtown. I met them at the church an hour before and we got great seats. The girls were so cute in their dress-up clothes and high heels! Isabella paid attention to the tiniest details, noting the cross-shaped layout of the traditional church, the Latin inscriptions, the ladder high in the corner where some restoration work was being done. Rayane was nervous the whole time because we were in a Catholic church and she wanted to know the meaning behind each and every thing she saw, from the ceiling paintings and holy water to the background lives of saints. We found the bathroom which was behind a huge pillar (I thought the man who directed us there was joking) and one of the girls refused to use anything but the very first stall, which made me laugh. Someone just as compulsive as I am! The concert started right on time and we loved nearly every minute of it, even in the melting heat. In the middle of a glorious acapella number, Rayane leaned over and whispered,
Tia, where's the speakers?
Her eyes widened in amazement when I informed her that there weren't any! And both the girls were curious: were the boys Catholic or Evangelical? And why was there a black boy and an Asian boy in the choir? Weren't they from England? Isn't everyone from England, well, white??? Ah...we've got to take these girls out more! At least they agreed on something: the boy with the long hair in the back row was a heartthrob. :)
And now I'm sitting here in Rebecca's chair (thank you Nichols!) and watching the moon float through clouds that look like angelfish...remembering a great day.
R$10 SHRIMP FOR ONLY R$3! TRES REIS! TRES REIS!!! WAKE UP!!!! SHRIIIIMMMPPPP!!!
It was 9:00; I overslept just a little. There was a bit of hustle, throwing things in my bag, taking a shower, making breakfast pancakes. I opened my freezer. Everything melted. Again. This required a detour on my way to the bus stop. When the refrigerator guy saw me coming, in my power heels and big bag and no-nonsense stalking towards him, he actually HID from me! But he'll be coming tomorrow to take my refrigerator away and replace it with something else that's probably just as defective as this one...because I'm not going Easter weekend without refrigeration if I can help it. And after all, he's "never lost a client. Especially not an American one..."
There were boring tasks to be completed today but they went by much faster than I had anticipated, so I wandered around downtown. My last stop sent me into the Banco de Brasil Cultural Center where I discovered their library, complete with reading room, lots of plush chairs, tons of English language books, fat encyclopedias (including some I've seen at Dona Dora's!) and AIR CONDITIONING. I'm so going to hide out there! I had tea at the tea room, with a yummy almond pie-cake thing, quiche, and a huge pot of cafe com leite all to myself. Mmm...
Today was our girls' night out with Isabella and Rayane from Projeto Vidinha. We went to see the Westminster Boys Choir for free at the Candelaria church downtown. I met them at the church an hour before and we got great seats. The girls were so cute in their dress-up clothes and high heels! Isabella paid attention to the tiniest details, noting the cross-shaped layout of the traditional church, the Latin inscriptions, the ladder high in the corner where some restoration work was being done. Rayane was nervous the whole time because we were in a Catholic church and she wanted to know the meaning behind each and every thing she saw, from the ceiling paintings and holy water to the background lives of saints. We found the bathroom which was behind a huge pillar (I thought the man who directed us there was joking) and one of the girls refused to use anything but the very first stall, which made me laugh. Someone just as compulsive as I am! The concert started right on time and we loved nearly every minute of it, even in the melting heat. In the middle of a glorious acapella number, Rayane leaned over and whispered,
Tia, where's the speakers?
Her eyes widened in amazement when I informed her that there weren't any! And both the girls were curious: were the boys Catholic or Evangelical? And why was there a black boy and an Asian boy in the choir? Weren't they from England? Isn't everyone from England, well, white??? Ah...we've got to take these girls out more! At least they agreed on something: the boy with the long hair in the back row was a heartthrob. :)
And now I'm sitting here in Rebecca's chair (thank you Nichols!) and watching the moon float through clouds that look like angelfish...remembering a great day.
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Sunday, lazy Sunday
I'm sitting here in Rich and Rebecca's new stuffy white chair (super comfortable and making me a bit upset that I didn't buy it first), writing updates and emails and eating raisins. It's cooling off, marginally, and I've enjoyed the first real relaxing Sunday in months. I didn't have to make lunch (the teenagers at my morning church had a fundraiser), and I went to the mall where I got two English language books to devour later with a cup of Jenna-style Starbucks wanna-be coffee, and have no plans other than evening church, and that, only if I want to. Maybe I'll just go for the worship. It's been hard to stay for the whole service recently. The pastor speaks for almost an hour and a half, and doesn't say much of anything that resounds with me. One begins to turn off a bit when the pastor yaks on and on about how people need to be more involved in this or that, the Sunday school program, the Friday night vigils...
A horse just ran down my street. Followed by a motorcycle. That's kind of cool.
Anyhow, I'm a bit burned out on preaching. It's Palm Sunday but the Protestant churches seem to be ignoring it. The sermon this morning was on money. I felt such an ache, watching all the Catholic kids wave their palm branches around in the streets...the reactionary tendencies of the "protesters" excise all the beauty out. I hope they'll at least celebrate Easter.
Anyhow, this has been a good, relaxing day. Praise the Lord. This week will be a bit wild: I'm babysitting at Vidinha on Tuesday, there's a party there on Thursday and we're taking the kids out on Friday for a group birthday party. Wildness!
It's April. I'm coming back to the States in two months, exactly. Crazy.
A horse just ran down my street. Followed by a motorcycle. That's kind of cool.
Anyhow, I'm a bit burned out on preaching. It's Palm Sunday but the Protestant churches seem to be ignoring it. The sermon this morning was on money. I felt such an ache, watching all the Catholic kids wave their palm branches around in the streets...the reactionary tendencies of the "protesters" excise all the beauty out. I hope they'll at least celebrate Easter.
Anyhow, this has been a good, relaxing day. Praise the Lord. This week will be a bit wild: I'm babysitting at Vidinha on Tuesday, there's a party there on Thursday and we're taking the kids out on Friday for a group birthday party. Wildness!
It's April. I'm coming back to the States in two months, exactly. Crazy.
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