Lazy Monday. Slept in, which was warranted because I heard the weirdest conversation outside my house at 4 am last night that actually had me using a mirror to try to peer around the corner and see who was talking. Spent the afternoon in Santa Teresa, which is a grand and glorious neighborhood, and with exceptional company, which only added to the experience. And now? I'm playing computer solitaire. I've managed to accumulate $4,576.00 (but not all today!). I'm shooting for five grand, then I've promised myself I'll have to delete the program from my hard drive! But it's a great mindless way for me to relax...avoid studying...wait for my super lasagna to cook.
It's super lasagna because I was trying to clean out my refrigerator and freezer. There were bits and ends of several kinds of vegetables, half a can of tomato sauce, some almost-freezer burnt chicken and a couple slices of cheese. For the sauce, I went kind of rosé, with a chunky garlic tomato sauce, a packet of spinach and cheese dried soup, some cream, milk, and the contents of a plain yogurt that I didn't feel like eating. (I also couldn't remember when I opened it.) I shredded half a carrot and a zucchini and mixed it in with the spinach for a vegetable layer. It smells great...but I'm guessing it needs about another 20 minutes or so in the oven to cook the noodles all the way through.
I haven't eaten more than three real meals in the past four days. It's not because I haven't wanted to, but my schedule just didn't allow such luxuries. So tonight I skipped class just to make dinner. I'm so excited about sitting down with a plate of food, eating as much as I'd like, then relaxing with a cup of tea (Earl Grey, with sugar and cream) to study Marketing de Serviços for my test on Wednesday. And I currently have $4,767.00 in the solitaire bank...which means it's about time for me to pull that lasagna out of the oven. Lazy Monday. I love it!
Monday, June 30, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
A day in the life...
After-school program.
The four year old is upset that the 11 year old boy is on the swing and not her. Her face sets in a vicious pout, and she lands a nice push, shove, punch combo at his body while trilling: Son of a B&$%*!
Sweet child. I made her apologize, even though I had to pick her up to put her at eye level with him.
Other kids want to know if we're going to do music lessons and sing opera today. Also sweet children.
"Tia, your hair looks much nicer short. You shouldn't let it grow anymore. This is so much more flattering on you." Well, thank you, little six-year old with adorable
black curls and the biggest lashes on the continent. I think you're pretty cute too.
I sent no one home today, a fact of which I am extremely proud.
Wood Burning Stove/Fogão a Lenha
Not your typical one, though.
This picture was taken on our staff retreat last month. My director thought this was a good way to dry out the wood so we could have a fire in the (real) fireplace.
I was going through pictures tonight and realized that I hadn't ever posted about this...so here's a start to a possible trip down memory lane.
This picture was taken on our staff retreat last month. My director thought this was a good way to dry out the wood so we could have a fire in the (real) fireplace.
I was going through pictures tonight and realized that I hadn't ever posted about this...so here's a start to a possible trip down memory lane.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Best idea of the day
I'm going to sell my life story to a tabloid and run off to Paris. The subway system is fast and learning French shouldn't be too difficult for me.
I'll live in a tiny flat with a wrought-iron gate, buy an antique bike to ride in the rain, reject suitors in three or four languages and some well-placed kicks, eat croissants and cheese with abandon...
I'll live in a tiny flat with a wrought-iron gate, buy an antique bike to ride in the rain, reject suitors in three or four languages and some well-placed kicks, eat croissants and cheese with abandon...
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Little drops of holiness
The cloudy skies today were perfect for sweaters and jeans, for ruminating with a cup of hot tea (Earl Grey, with cream and sugar), for snuggling and watching the Italy versus Spain soccer match. These skies were also cold for those without homes or comfy sweaters. I felt an ache run through my belly as I saw a woman on the sidewalk huddle down under the big grey mover's blanket she had wrapped around her shoulders. I love the occasional winter spell in the tropics, but it is always tempered with the knowledge that there are some suffering when the temperature drops into the 50's.
I've been doing a form of Examen recently, which is basically the practice of asking myself a variation of two questions every night:
When did I feel most alive today? When was I happiest?
When did I most feel like draining out of me? When was I saddest?
I've noticed that this practice, simple as it is, has been helpful in keeping me grounded during these weeks of craziness. It helps me too, to realize that the holy is best found in the most unexpected places...which keeps me looking for those shards and slivers as I go about my days, from the slums to the halls of academia.
This morning I went with a friend to church and stayed for Sunday School, which included a long debate that hinged on "what grade would we give our relationship with God?" I cringed when I heard them beginning this line of questioning. I have so many issues with the thought process behind that question. It assumes that our relationship with God can be measured, that we are competent and unbiased enough to measure it, and that there is some standard by which we can rank that relationship on a scale of one through ten.
We're not unbiased enough to measure our relationships. Even in basic human relationships like dating, marriage and friendship, we're often woefully incorrect about how we're doing with the significant people in our lives. The standard of measurement for a spiritual relationship basically ends up boiling down to: Do you pray? A lot? Do you read the Bible? A lot? Do you fast? A lot? Do you do, do, do?
And that leads to more than just guilt. It leads to a sense that the spiritual life is something we get by working really hard. That a relationship with God is about our taking, not God's giving. It's not grace, it's not love, it's "Look what I've done for you! Now get closer to me!"
We can fool ourselves into thinking that this path will lead to spiritual growth. As one person said today: "To get a plant to grow, you have to water it, weed it, put it in the sun. You've got to do a lot in order to help that plant grow." And his point was that we're supposed to be doing all those things, through sacrifices and prayer and so forth.
But he got it kind of backwards. We're the plant. We don't have the option of doing anything, or going anywhere. We're rooted in soil and have to do the best with the raw materials we're given. And God comes to us, waters us, gives us light and fertilizers and plucks out the weeds. Our job is to do what we were created to do, be obedient, grow. The prayer and the other relational "work" are a natural outgrowth of that obedience and doing what we were created to do. But we don't have to go around beating ourselves over the head because we didn't read six chapters of the Bible today, or spent forty-five minutes in prayer on our knees, or didn't skip lunch to meditate. Those things are natural outgrowths of an intimate relationship with God. But we get there step by step, not in one great big hurdle. And there is lots of grace along the way, because God knows that our lives are full of dishes and dirty laundry, kids to be picked up from school, tires to be changed, chocolate to be eaten, friends to hug, tears to wipe away, bellies to feed. When we're intimate with God, all those things can become spiritual activities. And to get intimate with God, we can start by allowing the mundane to be holy.
I've been doing a form of Examen recently, which is basically the practice of asking myself a variation of two questions every night:
When did I feel most alive today? When was I happiest?
When did I most feel like draining out of me? When was I saddest?
I've noticed that this practice, simple as it is, has been helpful in keeping me grounded during these weeks of craziness. It helps me too, to realize that the holy is best found in the most unexpected places...which keeps me looking for those shards and slivers as I go about my days, from the slums to the halls of academia.
This morning I went with a friend to church and stayed for Sunday School, which included a long debate that hinged on "what grade would we give our relationship with God?" I cringed when I heard them beginning this line of questioning. I have so many issues with the thought process behind that question. It assumes that our relationship with God can be measured, that we are competent and unbiased enough to measure it, and that there is some standard by which we can rank that relationship on a scale of one through ten.
We're not unbiased enough to measure our relationships. Even in basic human relationships like dating, marriage and friendship, we're often woefully incorrect about how we're doing with the significant people in our lives. The standard of measurement for a spiritual relationship basically ends up boiling down to: Do you pray? A lot? Do you read the Bible? A lot? Do you fast? A lot? Do you do, do, do?
And that leads to more than just guilt. It leads to a sense that the spiritual life is something we get by working really hard. That a relationship with God is about our taking, not God's giving. It's not grace, it's not love, it's "Look what I've done for you! Now get closer to me!"
We can fool ourselves into thinking that this path will lead to spiritual growth. As one person said today: "To get a plant to grow, you have to water it, weed it, put it in the sun. You've got to do a lot in order to help that plant grow." And his point was that we're supposed to be doing all those things, through sacrifices and prayer and so forth.
But he got it kind of backwards. We're the plant. We don't have the option of doing anything, or going anywhere. We're rooted in soil and have to do the best with the raw materials we're given. And God comes to us, waters us, gives us light and fertilizers and plucks out the weeds. Our job is to do what we were created to do, be obedient, grow. The prayer and the other relational "work" are a natural outgrowth of that obedience and doing what we were created to do. But we don't have to go around beating ourselves over the head because we didn't read six chapters of the Bible today, or spent forty-five minutes in prayer on our knees, or didn't skip lunch to meditate. Those things are natural outgrowths of an intimate relationship with God. But we get there step by step, not in one great big hurdle. And there is lots of grace along the way, because God knows that our lives are full of dishes and dirty laundry, kids to be picked up from school, tires to be changed, chocolate to be eaten, friends to hug, tears to wipe away, bellies to feed. When we're intimate with God, all those things can become spiritual activities. And to get intimate with God, we can start by allowing the mundane to be holy.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Good day, bad day
Good things:
-Kids were excited about the rubber roll-out keyboard I brought to Timonis. Most of them banged around or cautiously tapped on a couple of keys. One girl (yes, Kate, THAT one) played around a little bit, then said, "Tia, listen!"
And proceeded to play a 25 second melody that as far as I can tell, she invented in the four minutes she had alone with the keyboard.
That was a good moment.
-We talked about the widow's mite from Luke, chapter 21 today. It was fun to listen to the kids' comments, especially the one little girl who informed me that Caesar was the emperor whose face was on the coins in Jesus' time. Nice...especially for a six year old who lives in a Rio slum community...it was a good lesson. Some of the kids actually LEANED IN to listen. As opposed to bashing each others' teeth in and calling their neighbors dirty names and arguing over whose parents are REALLY in jail...
Not good things:
-The gunfight that we nearly missed. It started at the exact moment my coworker was opening the door to let the children out. No one, thankfully, was in a run-out-the-door-stampede mood. Most of the kids ran back up the stairs, but my coworker, a 4 year-old, and I were stuck in the courtyard. I had to crouch my way over to the door, which was difficult to lock when not in a standing position. But locked it must be, because otherwise, the police may have come IN.
-The gunfight made me late. Which made me stressed.
-Even being late, only one other woman showed up at our meeting to do major homework for a project due Monday. We had problems, problems, problems and were stuck in a study room air-conditioned to below-freezing. I argued with the other members of the group via cellphone, came home at 10:00 pm, cried into my new pillow, and have just finished the other Good Thing: hot chocolate spiked with cayenne pepper. Now I am going to take a hot shower (a Hot shower is a Good Thing. A Bad Thing? The electric shower head + a shower of more than 10 minutes = breaker flips and the shower, kitchen and bathroom outlets and refrigerator won't work for three hours. Still worth it.)
I can't wait for this week to be over.
-Kids were excited about the rubber roll-out keyboard I brought to Timonis. Most of them banged around or cautiously tapped on a couple of keys. One girl (yes, Kate, THAT one) played around a little bit, then said, "Tia, listen!"
And proceeded to play a 25 second melody that as far as I can tell, she invented in the four minutes she had alone with the keyboard.
That was a good moment.
-We talked about the widow's mite from Luke, chapter 21 today. It was fun to listen to the kids' comments, especially the one little girl who informed me that Caesar was the emperor whose face was on the coins in Jesus' time. Nice...especially for a six year old who lives in a Rio slum community...it was a good lesson. Some of the kids actually LEANED IN to listen. As opposed to bashing each others' teeth in and calling their neighbors dirty names and arguing over whose parents are REALLY in jail...
Not good things:
-The gunfight that we nearly missed. It started at the exact moment my coworker was opening the door to let the children out. No one, thankfully, was in a run-out-the-door-stampede mood. Most of the kids ran back up the stairs, but my coworker, a 4 year-old, and I were stuck in the courtyard. I had to crouch my way over to the door, which was difficult to lock when not in a standing position. But locked it must be, because otherwise, the police may have come IN.
-The gunfight made me late. Which made me stressed.
-Even being late, only one other woman showed up at our meeting to do major homework for a project due Monday. We had problems, problems, problems and were stuck in a study room air-conditioned to below-freezing. I argued with the other members of the group via cellphone, came home at 10:00 pm, cried into my new pillow, and have just finished the other Good Thing: hot chocolate spiked with cayenne pepper. Now I am going to take a hot shower (a Hot shower is a Good Thing. A Bad Thing? The electric shower head + a shower of more than 10 minutes = breaker flips and the shower, kitchen and bathroom outlets and refrigerator won't work for three hours. Still worth it.)
I can't wait for this week to be over.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Cold is equivalent to pain
Look at my hands. They look like they belong in a Mark Twain novel, gnarled roots by the river banks, knotting this way and that. My left pinky juts out at an awkward angle from the rest of the hand and is not happy about being forced to type at 12:17 in the afternoon. It's swollen and thinks that this is a good enough reason to lie around moping. The feet are in rebellion too, and it seems that no combination of ginger tea and steroids is going to work them out of their funk. And don't get me started on the knees and elbows...
Dang this weather! Dang this weather!
Dang this weather! Dang this weather!
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Granola
Made granola today:
sliced almonds, ground nuts, sesame and flax seeds, raisins, coconut, wheat germ, whole oats, generous quantities of cinnamon and cloves...and, secret ingredient...
TVP.
Dried soy granules. They're already crisp and flavorless, so putting them in granola seemed like it would work well.
It did. I'm happy. It's yummy and higher in protein, which is always good. Now I'm going to have to experiment with granola/protein bars....
sliced almonds, ground nuts, sesame and flax seeds, raisins, coconut, wheat germ, whole oats, generous quantities of cinnamon and cloves...and, secret ingredient...
TVP.
Dried soy granules. They're already crisp and flavorless, so putting them in granola seemed like it would work well.
It did. I'm happy. It's yummy and higher in protein, which is always good. Now I'm going to have to experiment with granola/protein bars....
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Odd day. I should have known. Friday the 13th...
Background:
Every week I make goals to be accomplished in those 7 days. Today's list was pretty simple:
-buy granola ingredients
-buy fresh fruit and vegetables
-go to the Oi! (cellphone provider) store and figure out my new phone
-cancel our Vivo (other cellphone provider) service
-do homework for my classes
-meet with group about final project
-go to class
It's pretty straightforward. But that doesn't mean it goes smoothly.
Part One:
I am trying to save money, so to get to the mall this morning, I took a combi. They only cost R$1.50 instead of $2.10. It adds up. Plus, it's faster. There are, however, drawbacks. The driver of my combi didn't find it necessary to stay in the driver's seat the whole time, shifting over while driving, trying to adjust the passenger's side mirror. The passenger in the second seat, drunk or crazy at 11:30 in the morning, insulted pedestrians and other motorists as he hung his hairy arm out the window to keep the door closed. I think a man with a foot-long Gandalf beard gave him the finger. We were almost to the mall when I looked over my shoulder to see a motorcyclist who appeared to be darting in between lanes veer straight into the bumper of the car behind us.
Bang! Bang! Bump! Parts were flying, heads were turning. The first bang was the impact, the second his bike crashing and the third? His helmeted head hitting our bumper.
Thank goodness he was wearing a helmet. And also that he stood up immediately. Not hurt...anyway, that was kind of the extent of the scene. Since we weren't actually involved in the accident, as soon as it was clear that no one was going to flee or die, we moved on.
Part Two:
I detest interacting with communications providers. Case in point: calling the Vivo operator to finalize the cancelling of our contract, I'm not asked for any identifying information but the girl chews me out for not answering their phone calls when I was at work, because they can't cancel the line unless I pick up the phone when they call me. (So call at a more convenient time, right?) She tells me that the last operator gave me the wrong facts. I don't get to keep my cellphone number. Grrr. I am on hold for more than 25 minutes. And since the whole operation takes at least 5 days, my phone is only PARTIALLY cancelled. So I can't make calls. And only some people are able to call me. But I have to carry the phone around with me so that when they do decide to call, I can answer. This makes me go into orc-speech: Urgh. Gah. Mrgtswa. Incompetents.
But I have planned for this, and already have a new phone. I go to the Oi! store to find out what the number of my new phone is, and also to buy credits, as they won't let me get a phone plan. Longer story. Oi! is known as kind of the leader in pushing for fewer penalties, easier switching between operators, the people's company. You need to know this to understand the following dialogue:
Him -(orange-shirted employee, ambling towards me after just telling some other couple that they needed to buy their Oi! chip at a department store) Can I help you?
Me - Yes! I bought this phone, but they tell me that I can't get a "conta" because I don't have a Brazilian ID number, just the protocol that says it is in process. Is that right?
-Uh, yeah. No card, no plan.
-Okay. Well then, I want to find out what the number is on this phone and make it a rechargeable cellphone.
-(He looks at me like I'm an idiot) You'll have to pay a fine.
-(I look at him like he's an idiot. There are only fines associated with breaking contracts. Oi! is all about NO FINES.) A fine? But I just bought the phone. I'm not even a customer yet!
-Huh. Yeah, well, let me see it. Where'd you buy it? What kind is it?
-It's "desbloqueado." With an Oi! chip.
-A chip? Where's the chip?
-IN the phone already.
(He turns the phone over, tries to remove the battery, is unsuccessful, and puts the cover back on.) So yeah...
-I want to find out what the number is...I've never done this before.
-Okay. Well, you have to give me your (Brazilian) social security number.
(I hand him my blue card and he takes the phone, dials a random number, and types a little on the keypad.) Here you go. Now you're signed up. It'll take 24 hours for it to go through.
-So what's my number?
-Oh, I don't know. You'll have to call another number in a day or so to find out.
(Does he tell me what this mystery number is? Of course not.)
-Okay. Well, I can put credit on it right now, correct?
-Sure.
-(Pause...pause...pause...) And can I buy it here?
-No. Go to a lottery house.
Confused, I staggered out. Oi! doesn't even sell phones anymore. ALL THEY DO IS SELL CELLPHONE SERVICE. But I can't buy THEIR RECHARGE CARDS in their OWN STORE? I come in trying to give them money, and they send me somewhere else? I should have known when I saw him talking to that couple in front of me...it was so obvious. He was an impostor salesman, working for the competition, who stole a shirt and was posing as an employee. There is no other logical explanation. I'm half-tempted to return tomorrow (because I still don't have credit on my phone) just to see if he'll be there. Maybe it was because it was Friday the 13th. Because my bad luck didn't end there...
I currently own two cellphones, neither of which makes calls. Or receives them, being that one phone number is being disconnected and no one knows the number of the other. Nice.
Part Three:
My school, once a bastion of high class and cleanliness, has now digressed to the level of a college town bar bathroom. People throw trash around, the ladies' room is filthy. (Are they trying to pee standing up? Girls, it doesn't work so well, really. Trust me.) So we were lamenting this fact. We can't even come early to class because the classrooms have to be locked when not in use because the undergrad students are trashing everything. Ick. Get rid of the rugrats. Send them back home until they learn how to use a trashcan. But to top it off, not one, not ONE of the computer labs was available for use today, even though there was no one using them when I arrived. An unpleasant man told me that they were all being used for classes and that we couldn't use the computers. I think I gave the impression that I called him crazy...but it was really leveled at the school. Invisible classes with invisible students? No computers available at a place that advertises the level of technology available to its students? We're not paying top-of-the-food-chain prices to get this kind of service. I'm going to make some very polished and polite complaints next week.
I'm not superstitious. But aside from my food happinesses of the day, which were fresh strawberries in yogurt and granola, a slow-sipped café com leite, and the remains of a heart-attack-in-a-paper-pan (frozen lasagnha)...well, aside from those, I'd say this wasn't the best part of the week.
But tomorrow there will be granola. I can't think of a better way to start off a new week. Granola, Chris Heuertz's new book and some quiet time with God in the morning...yum. Saturday night church? Yummier. Maybe having a cellphone that works? The whipped cream on top. With cherries and sliced almonds.
Every week I make goals to be accomplished in those 7 days. Today's list was pretty simple:
-buy granola ingredients
-buy fresh fruit and vegetables
-go to the Oi! (cellphone provider) store and figure out my new phone
-cancel our Vivo (other cellphone provider) service
-do homework for my classes
-meet with group about final project
-go to class
It's pretty straightforward. But that doesn't mean it goes smoothly.
Part One:
I am trying to save money, so to get to the mall this morning, I took a combi. They only cost R$1.50 instead of $2.10. It adds up. Plus, it's faster. There are, however, drawbacks. The driver of my combi didn't find it necessary to stay in the driver's seat the whole time, shifting over while driving, trying to adjust the passenger's side mirror. The passenger in the second seat, drunk or crazy at 11:30 in the morning, insulted pedestrians and other motorists as he hung his hairy arm out the window to keep the door closed. I think a man with a foot-long Gandalf beard gave him the finger. We were almost to the mall when I looked over my shoulder to see a motorcyclist who appeared to be darting in between lanes veer straight into the bumper of the car behind us.
Bang! Bang! Bump! Parts were flying, heads were turning. The first bang was the impact, the second his bike crashing and the third? His helmeted head hitting our bumper.
Thank goodness he was wearing a helmet. And also that he stood up immediately. Not hurt...anyway, that was kind of the extent of the scene. Since we weren't actually involved in the accident, as soon as it was clear that no one was going to flee or die, we moved on.
Part Two:
I detest interacting with communications providers. Case in point: calling the Vivo operator to finalize the cancelling of our contract, I'm not asked for any identifying information but the girl chews me out for not answering their phone calls when I was at work, because they can't cancel the line unless I pick up the phone when they call me. (So call at a more convenient time, right?) She tells me that the last operator gave me the wrong facts. I don't get to keep my cellphone number. Grrr. I am on hold for more than 25 minutes. And since the whole operation takes at least 5 days, my phone is only PARTIALLY cancelled. So I can't make calls. And only some people are able to call me. But I have to carry the phone around with me so that when they do decide to call, I can answer. This makes me go into orc-speech: Urgh. Gah. Mrgtswa. Incompetents.
But I have planned for this, and already have a new phone. I go to the Oi! store to find out what the number of my new phone is, and also to buy credits, as they won't let me get a phone plan. Longer story. Oi! is known as kind of the leader in pushing for fewer penalties, easier switching between operators, the people's company. You need to know this to understand the following dialogue:
Him -(orange-shirted employee, ambling towards me after just telling some other couple that they needed to buy their Oi! chip at a department store) Can I help you?
Me - Yes! I bought this phone, but they tell me that I can't get a "conta" because I don't have a Brazilian ID number, just the protocol that says it is in process. Is that right?
-Uh, yeah. No card, no plan.
-Okay. Well then, I want to find out what the number is on this phone and make it a rechargeable cellphone.
-(He looks at me like I'm an idiot) You'll have to pay a fine.
-(I look at him like he's an idiot. There are only fines associated with breaking contracts. Oi! is all about NO FINES.) A fine? But I just bought the phone. I'm not even a customer yet!
-Huh. Yeah, well, let me see it. Where'd you buy it? What kind is it?
-It's "desbloqueado." With an Oi! chip.
-A chip? Where's the chip?
-IN the phone already.
(He turns the phone over, tries to remove the battery, is unsuccessful, and puts the cover back on.) So yeah...
-I want to find out what the number is...I've never done this before.
-Okay. Well, you have to give me your (Brazilian) social security number.
(I hand him my blue card and he takes the phone, dials a random number, and types a little on the keypad.) Here you go. Now you're signed up. It'll take 24 hours for it to go through.
-So what's my number?
-Oh, I don't know. You'll have to call another number in a day or so to find out.
(Does he tell me what this mystery number is? Of course not.)
-Okay. Well, I can put credit on it right now, correct?
-Sure.
-(Pause...pause...pause...) And can I buy it here?
-No. Go to a lottery house.
Confused, I staggered out. Oi! doesn't even sell phones anymore. ALL THEY DO IS SELL CELLPHONE SERVICE. But I can't buy THEIR RECHARGE CARDS in their OWN STORE? I come in trying to give them money, and they send me somewhere else? I should have known when I saw him talking to that couple in front of me...it was so obvious. He was an impostor salesman, working for the competition, who stole a shirt and was posing as an employee. There is no other logical explanation. I'm half-tempted to return tomorrow (because I still don't have credit on my phone) just to see if he'll be there. Maybe it was because it was Friday the 13th. Because my bad luck didn't end there...
I currently own two cellphones, neither of which makes calls. Or receives them, being that one phone number is being disconnected and no one knows the number of the other. Nice.
Part Three:
My school, once a bastion of high class and cleanliness, has now digressed to the level of a college town bar bathroom. People throw trash around, the ladies' room is filthy. (Are they trying to pee standing up? Girls, it doesn't work so well, really. Trust me.) So we were lamenting this fact. We can't even come early to class because the classrooms have to be locked when not in use because the undergrad students are trashing everything. Ick. Get rid of the rugrats. Send them back home until they learn how to use a trashcan. But to top it off, not one, not ONE of the computer labs was available for use today, even though there was no one using them when I arrived. An unpleasant man told me that they were all being used for classes and that we couldn't use the computers. I think I gave the impression that I called him crazy...but it was really leveled at the school. Invisible classes with invisible students? No computers available at a place that advertises the level of technology available to its students? We're not paying top-of-the-food-chain prices to get this kind of service. I'm going to make some very polished and polite complaints next week.
I'm not superstitious. But aside from my food happinesses of the day, which were fresh strawberries in yogurt and granola, a slow-sipped café com leite, and the remains of a heart-attack-in-a-paper-pan (frozen lasagnha)...well, aside from those, I'd say this wasn't the best part of the week.
But tomorrow there will be granola. I can't think of a better way to start off a new week. Granola, Chris Heuertz's new book and some quiet time with God in the morning...yum. Saturday night church? Yummier. Maybe having a cellphone that works? The whipped cream on top. With cherries and sliced almonds.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Culinary Invention
A few weeks ago, I went out with some American girlfriends for an English-speaking happy hour...and we ended up ordering these fantastic drinks. I had to explain to the waiter that I only wanted the teeniest, tiniest, maybe 7 droppers full of alcohol in mine. Just enough to pull the flavors out of the ingredients. He was kind and acquiesed to my request but still charged me the full price. I was momentarily annoyed...but then realized I was just being American, trying to get a discount!
I really enjoyed the "bebida," which was basically a lemon/lime soda with mint leaves, slices of ginger and !surprise! rosemary. It was like a sophisticated take on lemonade, with the tiniest bit of a kick at the end. And my first thought was, "Wow! I have to learn to make this at home!"
But I keep on forgetting to buy ginger and mint when I go to the nicer areas of town. Up here in the sticks, it is rare for the local grocery store to carry such exotic items, and I'm too lazy to walk the 15 minutes to the bustling produce market in a nearby favela where they sell pretty much everything under the sun...
But today, after a particularly odd day (see next posting), I took my shopping bag to the supermarket at the mall. I passed on the fancy cheeses and looked unsuccessfully for all-fruit jam (I guess that's only found in the South Zone), but picked up a great selection of fruits and vegetables, plus all the fixings for homemade granola. My gingerroot was so light that I had to put my wallet on the scale so it would read; there's a minimum weight of 100 grams. That says something about my wallet as well, but whatever. The ginger was 40 centavos.
Home at last and ready to experiment, I took a lime (juice), the ginger, dried rosemary and a small handful of washed mint leaves and threw it into the blender with water and sugar. Ice would have been a nice touch too, had I remembered...Once it was all whirled up, some straining occurred. Neither the rosemary nor the ginger is particularly appetizing when not accompanied by actual food, so this step is necessary. If rum or vodka is used, I'm guessing the blender step can be nixed, because the alcohol will "pull" the flavors out. In the absence of alcohol, you've got to juice the ingredients to get the same effect. A sprig of whole rosemary would have been excellent, visually and flavor-wise, but I didn't have any on hand...
The result was fantastic, a light juice-like concoction with none of the evils of either soda or alcohol, and really refreshing. The bright flavors of lime and ginger were balanced out with the woody rosemary and a subtle hit of mint; nothing was too overpowering or understated. This is the best case scenario of what would happen if you threw a sushi bar and a Mexican restaurant into a fusion machine. It's my new afternoon liquid. Goodbye chocolate milk, hello AsianFauxjito!
(Though that name simply WILL NOT work. Anyone want to test out the recipe and then get back to me with a creative, non-potentially-offensive name?)
I really enjoyed the "bebida," which was basically a lemon/lime soda with mint leaves, slices of ginger and !surprise! rosemary. It was like a sophisticated take on lemonade, with the tiniest bit of a kick at the end. And my first thought was, "Wow! I have to learn to make this at home!"
But I keep on forgetting to buy ginger and mint when I go to the nicer areas of town. Up here in the sticks, it is rare for the local grocery store to carry such exotic items, and I'm too lazy to walk the 15 minutes to the bustling produce market in a nearby favela where they sell pretty much everything under the sun...
But today, after a particularly odd day (see next posting), I took my shopping bag to the supermarket at the mall. I passed on the fancy cheeses and looked unsuccessfully for all-fruit jam (I guess that's only found in the South Zone), but picked up a great selection of fruits and vegetables, plus all the fixings for homemade granola. My gingerroot was so light that I had to put my wallet on the scale so it would read; there's a minimum weight of 100 grams. That says something about my wallet as well, but whatever. The ginger was 40 centavos.
Home at last and ready to experiment, I took a lime (juice), the ginger, dried rosemary and a small handful of washed mint leaves and threw it into the blender with water and sugar. Ice would have been a nice touch too, had I remembered...Once it was all whirled up, some straining occurred. Neither the rosemary nor the ginger is particularly appetizing when not accompanied by actual food, so this step is necessary. If rum or vodka is used, I'm guessing the blender step can be nixed, because the alcohol will "pull" the flavors out. In the absence of alcohol, you've got to juice the ingredients to get the same effect. A sprig of whole rosemary would have been excellent, visually and flavor-wise, but I didn't have any on hand...
The result was fantastic, a light juice-like concoction with none of the evils of either soda or alcohol, and really refreshing. The bright flavors of lime and ginger were balanced out with the woody rosemary and a subtle hit of mint; nothing was too overpowering or understated. This is the best case scenario of what would happen if you threw a sushi bar and a Mexican restaurant into a fusion machine. It's my new afternoon liquid. Goodbye chocolate milk, hello AsianFauxjito!
(Though that name simply WILL NOT work. Anyone want to test out the recipe and then get back to me with a creative, non-potentially-offensive name?)
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Mosaico
The last three weekends have been jam-packed. A midnight film fest, dinners with friends, dancing, a church that feels like home...all good things.
And because I am obsessed: weekend breakfasts at Cafeína in Leblon. Breakfast has always been my favorite meal of the day, and Brazilian breakfasts are no exception, though they are significantly different. Gone are the sausages and bacon, the pancakes, scrambled eggs, huge steaming mug of coffee, cereal. Instead, breakfast is fresh juice, expresso coffee with cream and sixteen packets of sugar, cake, muffins, chocolate filled croissants, breads of all varieties and shapes, yogurt, jams, honey, granola, and lots of fresh fruit. Pineapple, watermelon, mango, bananas, papaya...
And breakfast at Cafeína just makes me happy. Yes, it is too expensive. Yes, it takes almost and hour and a half to get home afterwards. But I am treasuring the occasional treat. Because there is nothing like a leisurely weekend breakfast with good friends, seated on those little tables, knowing that the beach is just three blocks away and across the street is the world's second most perfect bookstore-open 24 hours a day-(the most perfect being Howard's in Bloomington, Indiana, because of the cats that ran free among the shelves)...and peoplewatching while sipping your coffee and wondering if anyone would notice if you licked the chocolate off your plate...because it is JUST THAT good.
I've been able to eat breakfast at Cafeína without having to wake up at 6 am to get the metro because of Saturday night church. I've been going there now for the past three weeks and don't miss one bit Sunday morning services. I love sleeping in!
I was introduced to this church by some friends of mine, and because it is kind of far away, and because we always seem to go out afterwards, to eat and drink and talk until the wee hours of the morning, I've been spending Saturday nights at my friend's house in Leblon. Which means I wake to the sound of the ocean instead of barking dogs. It is a beautiful thing.
My prayer letter this month talks more about the church and my impressions, so if you don't get that, you can access it at the WMF website. Click on the "view Jenna's prayer letters" link and choose the July letter.
And that's all for now, folks, because I have a lot of classwork to be catching up on and I've procrastinated for much too long. As usual.
And because I am obsessed: weekend breakfasts at Cafeína in Leblon. Breakfast has always been my favorite meal of the day, and Brazilian breakfasts are no exception, though they are significantly different. Gone are the sausages and bacon, the pancakes, scrambled eggs, huge steaming mug of coffee, cereal. Instead, breakfast is fresh juice, expresso coffee with cream and sixteen packets of sugar, cake, muffins, chocolate filled croissants, breads of all varieties and shapes, yogurt, jams, honey, granola, and lots of fresh fruit. Pineapple, watermelon, mango, bananas, papaya...
And breakfast at Cafeína just makes me happy. Yes, it is too expensive. Yes, it takes almost and hour and a half to get home afterwards. But I am treasuring the occasional treat. Because there is nothing like a leisurely weekend breakfast with good friends, seated on those little tables, knowing that the beach is just three blocks away and across the street is the world's second most perfect bookstore-open 24 hours a day-(the most perfect being Howard's in Bloomington, Indiana, because of the cats that ran free among the shelves)...and peoplewatching while sipping your coffee and wondering if anyone would notice if you licked the chocolate off your plate...because it is JUST THAT good.
I've been able to eat breakfast at Cafeína without having to wake up at 6 am to get the metro because of Saturday night church. I've been going there now for the past three weeks and don't miss one bit Sunday morning services. I love sleeping in!
I was introduced to this church by some friends of mine, and because it is kind of far away, and because we always seem to go out afterwards, to eat and drink and talk until the wee hours of the morning, I've been spending Saturday nights at my friend's house in Leblon. Which means I wake to the sound of the ocean instead of barking dogs. It is a beautiful thing.
My prayer letter this month talks more about the church and my impressions, so if you don't get that, you can access it at the WMF website. Click on the "view Jenna's prayer letters" link and choose the July letter.
And that's all for now, folks, because I have a lot of classwork to be catching up on and I've procrastinated for much too long. As usual.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Why we should be environmentalists
I think it was the weekly Slactivist post on Left Behind that sent me on yesterday's Wiki and Google hunt, but I can't for the life of me remember why. Or maybe it was because I wanted to know if durian and jackfruit were the same thing. (They're not.) Regardless, I ended up spending several fruitful hours learning about "delicacies."
Or rather, SOME people's delicacies.
Have a look:
This site has references to most of the foods I'll talk about, if you want to see other peoples' impassioned opinions.
First off, there is kiviak. Posts here and here attest to at least to its existence. You live in Greenland. There are lots of auks around and not too much in the way of preservation methods. So you make pouches out of fatty sealskin, add dead bird, and bury until Christmas. Result? Gooey decomposed bird paste? No, silly, that's what you call kiviak. Yum.
Century eggs look like something out of a monster movie. Or what would happen in a bachelor's kitchen if his mother or girlfriend never cleaned out the back of the fridge. Brown and green, they supposedly taste like sulfur and ammonia, which must be particularly appetizing.
(Aha! I remember. I was given a piece of fried fish to eat yesterday that turned to ammonia in my mouth. Fried, crunchy ammonia. I googled it to make sure the woman wasn't trying to poison me. In her defense, she wanted to know if I thought it tasted funny...)
But my favorite, besides "Three Squeals," which you'll have to look up on your own, was this savory Sardinian cheese: Casu Marzu.
If savory to you means fermented, seeping with decomposing liquids and crawling with cheese fly larvae. Larvae which can jump for distances up to 6 inches. I can see this affecting my sandwich. Who wants their wormy cheese to actually wriggle off the bread? Also problematic is the fact that said larvae don't digest too well and have been known to BORE through intestinal walls. Chew, chew, chew!
I can see why most of these foods are traditionally consumed with copious amounts of alcohol. Which leads me to several conclusions.
1. These foods exist because of poor food conservation options. Fermentation, pickling, salt, decomposition...all ways of eating food when preservatives and refrigerations didn't exist.
2. I would prefer that such foods remained eccentricities, delicacies to be enjoyed by a select majority. I sincerely hope that in my lifetime, we are not all forced to enjoy fermented, rotting meat of any species! I'm guessing many others share this viewpoint...so...
3. PROTECT THE PLANET PEOPLE! Because if we run out of things to fuel our refrigerators, its going to be century eggs and rotten cheese for us all! And the Evangelical Christians (who sometimes, sometimes act like environmental responsibility is rather stupid) will be in a pickle, because they're not going to take too well to the idea of downing those copious amounts of liquor!
Or rather, SOME people's delicacies.
Have a look:
This site has references to most of the foods I'll talk about, if you want to see other peoples' impassioned opinions.
First off, there is kiviak. Posts here and here attest to at least to its existence. You live in Greenland. There are lots of auks around and not too much in the way of preservation methods. So you make pouches out of fatty sealskin, add dead bird, and bury until Christmas. Result? Gooey decomposed bird paste? No, silly, that's what you call kiviak. Yum.
Century eggs look like something out of a monster movie. Or what would happen in a bachelor's kitchen if his mother or girlfriend never cleaned out the back of the fridge. Brown and green, they supposedly taste like sulfur and ammonia, which must be particularly appetizing.
(Aha! I remember. I was given a piece of fried fish to eat yesterday that turned to ammonia in my mouth. Fried, crunchy ammonia. I googled it to make sure the woman wasn't trying to poison me. In her defense, she wanted to know if I thought it tasted funny...)
But my favorite, besides "Three Squeals," which you'll have to look up on your own, was this savory Sardinian cheese: Casu Marzu.
If savory to you means fermented, seeping with decomposing liquids and crawling with cheese fly larvae. Larvae which can jump for distances up to 6 inches. I can see this affecting my sandwich. Who wants their wormy cheese to actually wriggle off the bread? Also problematic is the fact that said larvae don't digest too well and have been known to BORE through intestinal walls. Chew, chew, chew!
I can see why most of these foods are traditionally consumed with copious amounts of alcohol. Which leads me to several conclusions.
1. These foods exist because of poor food conservation options. Fermentation, pickling, salt, decomposition...all ways of eating food when preservatives and refrigerations didn't exist.
2. I would prefer that such foods remained eccentricities, delicacies to be enjoyed by a select majority. I sincerely hope that in my lifetime, we are not all forced to enjoy fermented, rotting meat of any species! I'm guessing many others share this viewpoint...so...
3. PROTECT THE PLANET PEOPLE! Because if we run out of things to fuel our refrigerators, its going to be century eggs and rotten cheese for us all! And the Evangelical Christians (who sometimes, sometimes act like environmental responsibility is rather stupid) will be in a pickle, because they're not going to take too well to the idea of downing those copious amounts of liquor!
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