...and I've been keeping my windows shut. I sleep fairly well at night, no big freakouts, though the bird-sized moth that flew in the other night gave me a nice scare, as did the rabid-sounding, doorframe-removing cat (also entering through the window) at my friend's house the night of the robbery.
When you live in a city as violent as this one, it's kind of normal.
But we are going to put bars up on the windows, never fear.
Last week was so hard. My cellphone went on the fritz and had to be replaced. The house was robbed. My boyfriend broke up with me.
It hasn't been pretty. But then today, I wake up and send all my friends an invite to a free opera performance later this week. It's a chance for me to get out of the house, wear makeup, feel better. As I'm glancing at the program, a name jumps out at me. An unusual name. And I think, "No. Not possible."
How could someone I had a crush on when I was 17 be performing in Rio at the very concert I'm about to attend?
When I was 17, I lived in Indiana. A long, long way from Rio. I was a die-hard rock-climber, in spite of the lack of rocks in the rolling corn fields. My then-boyfriend and I climbed at the only gym around, a 40 minute drive away at the local university town. There were lots of lovely college boys climbing there, but none so cute as the one with the fantastic tattoo, beautiful accent and bouncy black curls. The Mysterious Foreigner (TMF). Someone said he sang opera. I swooned and a crush was born. My boyfriend quickly surpassed me in climbing skills and that was the end of our relationship, which was mostly based on scaling walls to begin with. I was unwilling to be belaying on the ground for hours on end...and he found a new climbing partner in TMF, who I never spoke to but perhaps, maybe, once. (I was shy.) They climbed like they were born to it...and then we moved away. I heard stories about the both of them from friends from time to time but just in passing, little anecdotes about running into someone where you'd least expect it. And then today, my eyes fall on TMF's name...and his bio picture...and it's a flurry of calls to Indiana, "you won't believe its" and lots of laughter and "tell him hi for us!"
Of course, I'm going to have to go backstage on Thursday...bring greetings from Indiana...and revel in the weirdness of such a small, small world. Without sounding like a stalker, that is. Which I'm not.
But this little oddity from my past has given me a bit more "animo" to go about the rest of my week. Who knew there would be so many Indiana connections in Rio de Janeiro???
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
At the Police Station
Just the highlights:
Large civil policeman with badge hanging from a chain around his neck, typing with two fingers as the delivery boy brings up the evening's pizza...
"Did he poop on your floor?" Um...no.
"Did he drink all your alcohol?" Nope. My wine is carefully stored in the only part of the house that doesn't get full sun. Under a chair covered by a gorgeous African cloth. By dusty fashion magazines and old schoolbooks.
"Why aren't you both married yet? Not to each other, to Brazilians! Too picky, that's what you are..." Huh. I think it's time to go home now...
Where else can you report a burglary and get love advice all wrapped up in one visit?
So thankful there was no POOP to clean up. Seriously.
Large civil policeman with badge hanging from a chain around his neck, typing with two fingers as the delivery boy brings up the evening's pizza...
"Did he poop on your floor?" Um...no.
"Did he drink all your alcohol?" Nope. My wine is carefully stored in the only part of the house that doesn't get full sun. Under a chair covered by a gorgeous African cloth. By dusty fashion magazines and old schoolbooks.
"Why aren't you both married yet? Not to each other, to Brazilians! Too picky, that's what you are..." Huh. I think it's time to go home now...
Where else can you report a burglary and get love advice all wrapped up in one visit?
So thankful there was no POOP to clean up. Seriously.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Blow-by-blow (without any REAL blows): Part 1
We'd been on the streets longer than usual, but traffic was relatively good, so I arrived home at about 7:30 pm. Walking up the street, I could see that my bedroom and outside lights were on, which bothered me, as I was sure they were off when I'd left the house. And a window opened that I'd definitely closed. Not good. I slipped halfway up the stairs, saw the wide open door, and asked the next door neighbor: hey, have you seen anyone here? No...I just got home.
So I ring up the landlord, who lives in the house across from me and promises to rush right over. Which he does, along with his brother, and there they are, two slightly stooped, courageously nervous Portuguese men with shockingly white hair. The brother, by day a used car salesman with the personality to match, is gripping a broom handle like he's going to beat the living daylights out of someone. The wife and daughter and mother and aunt are all standing on the balcony across the street, watching the goings-on. Since my house is slightly larger than a matchbox, it takes 30 seconds to verify that no one is there. But, yes, someone did come in.
The first thing I do with my sinking heart as I climb the stairs is imagine how I'm going to replace all the things that I was too stupid to have backed up on my laptop. That is, until I walked in the door and realized my laptop hadn't been touched. Sitting in its usual place, protected from dust, crashing ceilings and now burglars, my love/hate relationship with the PC just inched a couple notches towards love.
There are some drawers dumped out on the floor and cords scattered. He didn't like Boggle, nor Uno, though he was sure I'd hidden something in the boxes. The nice cordless phone still sat in the same place, as did the regular cheapo phone. An ancient cellphone was gone, as well as my US TracFone, both rather useless in the resale market, I would imagine. The sound recorder that the Advocacy Dept. gave me was gone as it must have looked like a cellphone. And my camera, which is my own fault because I didn't put the soap dish in the bathroom like I thought I should have right before I left the house. But all the chargers, cords, my little speakers, etc...were all left in a tumble on the floor. He hadn't rifled through papers or books, didn't open my office boxes or the cabinet where all the cds are stored. My chocolate and my mixer were still intact.
In the bedroom, my underwear drawer and t-shirt drawers were opened and rifled through, but he was kind enough not to dump them on the floor. (It's been a few weeks since I swept in there...) My jewelry boxes on the dresser were dumped out, but I looked and looked and can't for the life of me think what he might have taken. The silver and gold necklaces hanging in the closet, along with money, perfume, sunglasses and other relatively valuable objects, weren't touched.
I always leave a little cash lying out, burglar money, if you will, and that was gone, along with all my change, though he didn't see the US coins, and left the Indonesian carved box they were kept in. Thankfully. That was a present I've cherished since I was a child!
So it took all of about five minutes to make up this list to take with me to the police station (I called right away, but after an hour and a half, it was obvious that the cops weren't going to come to the house. I'm glad it wasn't an emergency.)
What was Stolen:
1 old cellphone
1 foreign, supercheap cellphone
1 camera
? jewelry
approximately R$ 57 in coins and cash
So I ring up the landlord, who lives in the house across from me and promises to rush right over. Which he does, along with his brother, and there they are, two slightly stooped, courageously nervous Portuguese men with shockingly white hair. The brother, by day a used car salesman with the personality to match, is gripping a broom handle like he's going to beat the living daylights out of someone. The wife and daughter and mother and aunt are all standing on the balcony across the street, watching the goings-on. Since my house is slightly larger than a matchbox, it takes 30 seconds to verify that no one is there. But, yes, someone did come in.
The first thing I do with my sinking heart as I climb the stairs is imagine how I'm going to replace all the things that I was too stupid to have backed up on my laptop. That is, until I walked in the door and realized my laptop hadn't been touched. Sitting in its usual place, protected from dust, crashing ceilings and now burglars, my love/hate relationship with the PC just inched a couple notches towards love.
There are some drawers dumped out on the floor and cords scattered. He didn't like Boggle, nor Uno, though he was sure I'd hidden something in the boxes. The nice cordless phone still sat in the same place, as did the regular cheapo phone. An ancient cellphone was gone, as well as my US TracFone, both rather useless in the resale market, I would imagine. The sound recorder that the Advocacy Dept. gave me was gone as it must have looked like a cellphone. And my camera, which is my own fault because I didn't put the soap dish in the bathroom like I thought I should have right before I left the house. But all the chargers, cords, my little speakers, etc...were all left in a tumble on the floor. He hadn't rifled through papers or books, didn't open my office boxes or the cabinet where all the cds are stored. My chocolate and my mixer were still intact.
In the bedroom, my underwear drawer and t-shirt drawers were opened and rifled through, but he was kind enough not to dump them on the floor. (It's been a few weeks since I swept in there...) My jewelry boxes on the dresser were dumped out, but I looked and looked and can't for the life of me think what he might have taken. The silver and gold necklaces hanging in the closet, along with money, perfume, sunglasses and other relatively valuable objects, weren't touched.
I always leave a little cash lying out, burglar money, if you will, and that was gone, along with all my change, though he didn't see the US coins, and left the Indonesian carved box they were kept in. Thankfully. That was a present I've cherished since I was a child!
So it took all of about five minutes to make up this list to take with me to the police station (I called right away, but after an hour and a half, it was obvious that the cops weren't going to come to the house. I'm glad it wasn't an emergency.)
What was Stolen:
1 old cellphone
1 foreign, supercheap cellphone
1 camera
? jewelry
approximately R$ 57 in coins and cash
Monday, March 16, 2009
How Not To Rob a House
I have so much to say on this subject, but let's start with the fact that I am typing this blog posting on my laptop even though my house was broken into today. And my laptop was sitting in its usual spot on the computer desk.
How NOT to rob a house:
-not a good idea to try around 6:30 pm, because there's always someone returning from work, and the neighbors might just scare you off
-don't be lazy
-if you're going to take stuff, TAKE it. Cellphones are kind of worthless without the chargers, and when they're sitting right there, why leave them behind?
-no one hides things in their underwear drawers. Sorry.
-don't turn on lights. Dead, dead giveaway.
-generally speaking, look HARDER. And if you're going to look through all the jewelry, why not just dump it into a bag and decide what's worthless later?
That's why I'm glad that the most idiotic thief in Manguinhos (because only a crack addict is tiny enough to climb into my house the way he did), was so polite. No only did he leave the lights on and the door open for me, but as far as I can tell, he thinks my jewelry is worth squat, doesn't have any idea of the value of a HP12C calculator or pendrives, and apparently doesn't know that cords tend to lead to things of value. (Yay, little laptop all safe under your Nepalese dust cover!)
I'm spending the night with a friend, just in case he decides to come back...but there will be more on this story soon. Full-coverage, if you will...because the time at the police station was pretty entertaining too...
How NOT to rob a house:
-not a good idea to try around 6:30 pm, because there's always someone returning from work, and the neighbors might just scare you off
-don't be lazy
-if you're going to take stuff, TAKE it. Cellphones are kind of worthless without the chargers, and when they're sitting right there, why leave them behind?
-no one hides things in their underwear drawers. Sorry.
-don't turn on lights. Dead, dead giveaway.
-generally speaking, look HARDER. And if you're going to look through all the jewelry, why not just dump it into a bag and decide what's worthless later?
That's why I'm glad that the most idiotic thief in Manguinhos (because only a crack addict is tiny enough to climb into my house the way he did), was so polite. No only did he leave the lights on and the door open for me, but as far as I can tell, he thinks my jewelry is worth squat, doesn't have any idea of the value of a HP12C calculator or pendrives, and apparently doesn't know that cords tend to lead to things of value. (Yay, little laptop all safe under your Nepalese dust cover!)
I'm spending the night with a friend, just in case he decides to come back...but there will be more on this story soon. Full-coverage, if you will...because the time at the police station was pretty entertaining too...
For anyone interested in sourdough
There are a lot of recipes out there, some easier than others.
This was the website I used for my bread dough recipe, but my original starter wasn't just flour and water. I did a yogurt/milk and flour starter, which can be found here.
I keep mine next to the light in the fridge, in a big peanut butter container and haven't yet got around to poking a hole in the lid. Miranda doesn't seem to mind! I feed it about once every two weeks...just replacing whatever I used with milk/water and flour and stirring it up some.
My timeframe for making a loaf of bread is:
7 pm the night before, I set out my starter to warm up a bit on the counter and then start the sponge.
8 pm I mix up the bread with my orange KitchenAid handheld mixer (bread hooks!) and then set it in a clean, towel-covered bowl to rise overnight.
Early in the am, I punch it down, knead a little, throw into pans and go back to bed.
A couple hours later, I throw it into an oven. You can pre-heat if you want a crunchier crust (20 min or so on HIGH heat, then turn down) or throw it right into the oven when you turn it on. Bread's nice like that, it doesn't mind too much...
Have fun if you decide to experiment and let me know how it goes!
This was the website I used for my bread dough recipe, but my original starter wasn't just flour and water. I did a yogurt/milk and flour starter, which can be found here.
I keep mine next to the light in the fridge, in a big peanut butter container and haven't yet got around to poking a hole in the lid. Miranda doesn't seem to mind! I feed it about once every two weeks...just replacing whatever I used with milk/water and flour and stirring it up some.
My timeframe for making a loaf of bread is:
7 pm the night before, I set out my starter to warm up a bit on the counter and then start the sponge.
8 pm I mix up the bread with my orange KitchenAid handheld mixer (bread hooks!) and then set it in a clean, towel-covered bowl to rise overnight.
Early in the am, I punch it down, knead a little, throw into pans and go back to bed.
A couple hours later, I throw it into an oven. You can pre-heat if you want a crunchier crust (20 min or so on HIGH heat, then turn down) or throw it right into the oven when you turn it on. Bread's nice like that, it doesn't mind too much...
Have fun if you decide to experiment and let me know how it goes!
Oh heavenly goodness!
It is 8:01 in the morning and I am eating Miranda bread, fresh from the oven because I couldn't let her cool. Dear me, sweet glorious explosion of crunchy, chewy, bready perfection!
That's my two loaves in the picture above, along with the last season of Dr. Who (cannot WAIT for season 5!) and my exploding inbox. Notice the lump on the uncut loaf? Yeah...even with the scoring, Miranda's population explosion was just a little too eager and she got a bit disfigured. That might have been my fault; I think I didn't give enough time for the second rising. But next time...
Let me tell you right now. This was worth letting the bread rise all night long, tucked up in pans inside pans of water so the creepy ants couldn't find their way into the dough. It was worth waking up at 5 am to punch down and form the loaves. And it was worth waiting 45 minutes for them to cook...
This is the REAL thing. This is daily bread, the stuff of life. Feed me on bread and water, I don't care. So long as it's bread, not that wimpy stuff I was brainwashed into thinking was bread...
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Recipe for the Doldrums
It's a beautiful, miserable night and I've just finished a glass of wine with my meal: a plate of crackers, cheese, and dried apricots topped off with some mini Reeses cups as dessert. It's not exactly substantial, but I wasn't in the mood to cook, and I did had lunch with my boyfriend's family after church, so I'm all set on the rice and beans side of things. The most I'm getting done in the kitchen today is setting out the week's bread to rise. It requires nearly no skill.
I'm trying to do real sourdough, no yeast added. We'll see if it works. When I took the starter out of the refrigerator, I shook up the plastic peanut butter container and thought, briefly, what the starter's name might be. Go figure. The weird part was that the name came immediately, solidly: Miranda. As if the lactobaccilius or whatever it is that's growing in the froth were really into telepathic communication...
I have a living organism sitting next to the light in my fridge and her name is Miranda. And boy, what a nice loaf of bread she makes!
So it's technically NOT true that I live all alone. I have a colony of wild yeast living with me, not that I'm sure it counts for the well-meaning people who constantly remind me of how alone I am. Like last night at a birthday party, from across the table:
"So, how many other girls are you living with?"
"Oh, it's just me and Jesus..."
Silence, awkward silence. And then I was left to listen to the married women talk about breastfeeding and how long they had to wear support hose after their C-sections...
The pastor at church today talked about the dangers of all this independence, kids wanting to move out of their parents homes and live on their own...
The kind friends who say, "Oh, I could never do that. I can't be away from my family that long, can't risk my reputation, oh, it would be too hard. Too scary. Too lonely."
Thanks for pointing it out. For reminding me of how much it is not common here, of how my independence is both feared and pitied. And, yes, since you forgot to ask, I do get lonely. But it's okay. You care for that with chocolate, white wine, good poetry books and nice pens, Moleskines, cheese, and music. Spinning around in the living room to Laura Pausini or Zap Mama. Long showers without guilt since you pay the water bill and there's no one who needs the bathroom afterwards. Hot tea with milk. And fresh bread.
Fresh, springy, heavenly Miranda bread.
I'm trying to do real sourdough, no yeast added. We'll see if it works. When I took the starter out of the refrigerator, I shook up the plastic peanut butter container and thought, briefly, what the starter's name might be. Go figure. The weird part was that the name came immediately, solidly: Miranda. As if the lactobaccilius or whatever it is that's growing in the froth were really into telepathic communication...
I have a living organism sitting next to the light in my fridge and her name is Miranda. And boy, what a nice loaf of bread she makes!
So it's technically NOT true that I live all alone. I have a colony of wild yeast living with me, not that I'm sure it counts for the well-meaning people who constantly remind me of how alone I am. Like last night at a birthday party, from across the table:
"So, how many other girls are you living with?"
"Oh, it's just me and Jesus..."
Silence, awkward silence. And then I was left to listen to the married women talk about breastfeeding and how long they had to wear support hose after their C-sections...
The pastor at church today talked about the dangers of all this independence, kids wanting to move out of their parents homes and live on their own...
The kind friends who say, "Oh, I could never do that. I can't be away from my family that long, can't risk my reputation, oh, it would be too hard. Too scary. Too lonely."
Thanks for pointing it out. For reminding me of how much it is not common here, of how my independence is both feared and pitied. And, yes, since you forgot to ask, I do get lonely. But it's okay. You care for that with chocolate, white wine, good poetry books and nice pens, Moleskines, cheese, and music. Spinning around in the living room to Laura Pausini or Zap Mama. Long showers without guilt since you pay the water bill and there's no one who needs the bathroom afterwards. Hot tea with milk. And fresh bread.
Fresh, springy, heavenly Miranda bread.
Saturday, March 07, 2009
Birthday snapshot
Birthday dress, courtesy of Mom and Dad, rumpled from the party (but rest assured, I did iron it. Five times.)
All the rest of the pictures are on someone else's camera, so I have to wait until she makes me a cd...
But it was a good night. Except for the heels, which I had to step out of before the end of the night. And I spent most of the time sitting down! But, that tiny detail aside, it was fantastic to spend time with friends and celebrate. Thanks, all!
Friday, March 06, 2009
28
I am officially older today.
My sister sent me the coolest hand-made card, prominently featuring shoes and chocolate and clippings from magazine perfume samplers. She nailed my princess side on the head, right down to my new favorite color...I particularly liked the chocolate chip cookies, whose chips were tiny high heeled chocolate pumps, perfect for a SugarLand Barbie...wonder where one would find those? I wouldn't mind eating a chocolate shoe right about now!
Surprisingly, I bought no shoes for my birthday. Oops, that's a lie. I ripped my favorite pair of flats this week when I stepped off the curb. Twisted them right around my foot and tore the side out. Thanks to the magic of shoe repairmen (gotta love Brazil!), they're fixed, but fragile, so I had to get another pair of daily shoes. Does that really count?
Tonight, my birthday wishes include a house for my friend and co-worker whose family is being suddenly evicted as their building has been condemned by the city; more patience and less drama in my life; and a personal air-conditioned bubble in which I can live until summer is over.
It is hot.
I am really glad for fans...and ice cold water bottles...and now I am going to bed.
The blog will be updated with pictures and so forth soon. I know I'm terribly, terribly behind, but you have to forgive me because today's my BIRTHDAY! Yay! Now that I'm older, I'm *sure* I'll be more responsible in the future...
My sister sent me the coolest hand-made card, prominently featuring shoes and chocolate and clippings from magazine perfume samplers. She nailed my princess side on the head, right down to my new favorite color...I particularly liked the chocolate chip cookies, whose chips were tiny high heeled chocolate pumps, perfect for a SugarLand Barbie...wonder where one would find those? I wouldn't mind eating a chocolate shoe right about now!
Surprisingly, I bought no shoes for my birthday. Oops, that's a lie. I ripped my favorite pair of flats this week when I stepped off the curb. Twisted them right around my foot and tore the side out. Thanks to the magic of shoe repairmen (gotta love Brazil!), they're fixed, but fragile, so I had to get another pair of daily shoes. Does that really count?
Tonight, my birthday wishes include a house for my friend and co-worker whose family is being suddenly evicted as their building has been condemned by the city; more patience and less drama in my life; and a personal air-conditioned bubble in which I can live until summer is over.
It is hot.
I am really glad for fans...and ice cold water bottles...and now I am going to bed.
The blog will be updated with pictures and so forth soon. I know I'm terribly, terribly behind, but you have to forgive me because today's my BIRTHDAY! Yay! Now that I'm older, I'm *sure* I'll be more responsible in the future...
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