Out with the old and in with the new….

Today is the last day of 2011.  Can you believe it?  Each year, no matter how the individual days drag, each year seems to go by faster and faster.  Today we, Camillo and I, reflect; reflect on the good and the bad of this past year.  I know many friends and family that look back on the old year after passing over into the new.   To me you are taking a big chance by doing this, taking a chance of dragging negative Karma into the new year.  I like to reflect on the old while in the old and enter the new ready for it to be better, grander, luckier, shinier, NEW. 
For the past week I have been going back through ‘Flowers’ reading post I’ve written this year and last.  I especially like to read the comments and to remember friends I have made through blogging.  This process helps me to remember little and big things that have happened this year, to make note of changes, taking a moment to grieve and to celebrate and to put it all behind. 
While I go through the emotional review, Camillo spends hours, days, I don’t know maybe even weeks, putting together a 6 or 7 page spreadsheet:  linking categories, pages, columns, color coding, adding up all the ways that this year has exceeded or come in under budget.   We came in under in the eating out category, and over in costs of maintaining the house in Friburgo AND the apartment in Rio.  Of course, the ‘exceeds’ out number the ‘comes in under’ and on the bottom line we are only R$40K over income.  In his over the top, optimistic view of the world, he doesn’t seem to be fazed by this number,  and I am just happy that I didn’t hear about it tomorrow.  I can put it behind me starting today. 
Now, after all this reflecting and reviewing, I am ready to don a pretty blouse and dig around for some underused jewelry and to go out and have dinner at a friend’s house within the condominium, drink some toasts to “out with old” and “in with the new” come home safe, and sleep knowing next year will be brighter and NEWER. 

Y’all have a great and safe New Year’s Eve.  See you back here for a new year of thoughts and ideas.  Hugs and kisses from Brasil.

The benefits of walking the beach

We started the new year with every intention of staying in Friburgo all through the month of January but by time the sixth rolled around we were both thanking the powers that be and those family members, who always have a new and better way to celebrate, for a request of a command performance in Rio.  Annabella requested that we come to Rio for cake and ice cream and games to help her celebrate her eleventh birthday.  Sounded like fun (thank goodness!)

From the 30th of December, when we arrived back in Friburgo until the sixth of January it rained: heavy, wet, cold, cloudy, foggy, mud-slide inducing rain - 24/7.  And what better way to get a change in the weather than to drive to Rio.  We would drive in on Thursday night, drive to Teresopolis on Saturday for a churrasco with friends, and would be back in Friburgo on Sunday – in time to get back into the eating-carefully and going to the gym-regular mode at the first of the week.  It is now late Sunday and we are stuck in Rio.  On Saturday the car wouldn’t start and we had to call a mechanic – wait several hours for him to come – missed the time frame for our drive to Teresopolis – missed the plan, but gained two full days in bright and sunny Rio. 

On Friday evening we walked part way around the Lagoa, that is a story that needs to be told but you have to wait, maybe even until next Christmas.  This morning I walked down to the beach.   I don’t know why I don’t do this more often – what benefits I get from walking the length of Ipanema and Leblon, especially after the confinement of a week of rainy days, is without measure.  The beach on a sunny summer day is colorful and entertaining, packed with happy, sun browned young people.

On Sundays, one direction of the street running along side the beach is closed to cars.  Pedestrian, cyclists, baby strollers often empty of baby who is toddling freely along the road, skate boarders, inline skaters all vie for the space to enjoy their exercise.   Today there were also groups of Capoeira fighters, this time all women.  As far as I know this is very unusual.  I’ve never seen women doing this street fighting (dance) before.   From one end of the beach to the other were colored umbrellas, vendors, drummers, volleyball players and energy.

What a way to spend the morning.

  

  

Thoughts from the Veranda

Today I feel like pulling my thinning hair out.  I was trying to work via remote server in Oslo and today they seem to be down.  So I have taken my coffee and my computer out on the veranda to relax for a bit, to let my heart rate slow, to calm my stomach, to think about things.
I will start with a recap of the ---- lets just do two weeks otherwise this could take forever.  That time frame will bring us back from our Italian Profunda trip and take us to Macae for the Project Meetings.  And finally it will bring us back to Nova Friburgo.
About six months ago…. no I wont go back that far but you need this information …. about 6 months ago the Unibanco Banks was bought by Itau bank system.  My statements and online banking still look the same – Unibanco - but MY Debit CARD(s), how I access my Money have been canceled without first issuing new ones.  We came back from Italy and had to go immediately to Macae, and had no time to resolve this little problem. 
Once back in Friburgo, we make plans to go into to town and to stand in line – because at Itau you always have to stand in line …. Long Lines that wind along – through yellow dotted lanes from one side of the lobby to the other – winding back and forth, back and forth. 
So off to town we go – I blew dry my hair and put on makeup to look good for the new manager I would meet,  It is the week right before elections and the town is a madhouse.  It is the week that we have to pay the gardener and the woman that keeps our house so clean…. To pay the ones that need their pay just to live, the ones who need their pay in cash, the one that have no bank accounts because bank accounts are so @$&# expensive.  What do we find … THE BANK WORKERS ARE ON STRIKE!  The strikers have all but the teller machines shut down.  We could only draw out 500.00 in cash because the machines are almost out of cash…. R$500 per day if you can find a machine that has cash. 
For us it is just an irritant, a mosquito bite that keeps itching.  We can go online and transfer to pay bills.  For the bills that you have to pay in the bank you will be given more time…. with late fees attached of course.  We can use our debit cards…. wait my debit card has been canceled and not replaced by Itau … Okay, not to panic we can still use our international cards to buy groceries if this stretches on for too long.
Now I am even more irritated because I now know that whenever we use our international bank card through CHASE at teller machines not in the states, we are charged a transaction fee, an international transaction fee for taking cash, and a misc fee like .09 or .10 cents…. for each purchase.  WHAT is that about?  Not flat rate fees either but a percentage of the cash withdrawal.  So why have an international card?  Oh, I forgot so that we can buy groceries when the local banks strike. 
So really I am really more than a little irritated.  Even with some sympathy with the workers, the non-inflated prices…. the government swears there is no inflation here …. the non-inflated prices have gone so high that Brasil is now one of the most expensive places to live IN THE WORLD.  I am in sympathy with the workers, I really am.  But this is likely to go on for a while, the raise offer by the the National Bank Federation of 4.3 “inflation rate” was rejected, the bank workers’ union wants 11% plus additional benefits.  I am in sympathy but wait…. their pay increase will be passed down to me by way of higher fees – increasing my expenses … making it necessary for the workers union that I belong to, to ask for more money for me…. which causes the company I work for to raise their prices …. so that…..  
Is that the definition of inflation? Check out this link for a better understanding of what inflation really is.  According to this definition the increase in prices without an increase in efficiency (reduction of long lines?) is a good thing and is anti-inflationary in its self.  Did I understand that correctly?  Probably not – Macro economics was one of the 3 Cs I received at University – (macro economics / statistics / college algebra) it is just beyond my comprehension of how all the components fit together.  But I do understand that I can’t use my money that is in the bank to pay those that need their cash pay every month …. this small fact I can understand.

MY Town Friday Shoot-Out

in search of The Dark side

                                                                                                             On April 15, 2010 I’d lived in Brasil for 7 years.   At first, in those very hard, first 3 years I saw only the dark side of Brasil.  And in order to accept, I had to focus my (mind’s) eye away from the close up - in my face views of what was around me.  I had to learn to focus into the mid-distance.  This is where - how I found the beauty that is Brasil.  The plants and flowers, the mountains, the reflections of sun and clouds in the water, the smiles of its people and the subtleties of its culture that are so different from mine but, finally, I am able to smile about.   And now for this week’s shoot-out the topic was to see – to show the dark side of either Rio or Nova Friburgo.  I took photos in both cities, and then just now, in the last few minutes decided on Nova Friburgo.

  I took my camera where ever I went.  I snapped photos of a trash heap along side the street.  Then found myself asking is this the dark side? Is construction debris left there on the sidewalk the dark side or is it a cultural difference?

I saw a large house that had a new second floor going on – it was evident that the first floor was being lived in and that the lower exterior had never been finished.  Is this the dark side? 

It is habit here to build your home as you have need and funds – a family may build the home over 15 or twenty years, it is theirs, not the bank’s is this a bad thing or is it good or is is just different?

 

I saw a tiny house along side the canal, tucked away, built with bits and pieces of cast off construction material.  Open to the elements on the sides, the roof seemed  to cover adequately if not with the aesthetics of the common red tile roofs.  Is this the dark side?  The poverty represented by this simple one room shack.   Or is this little house (home?) a symbol of the spirit of survival of the Brasilian people.

Whether walking on the main street, standing in line at the supermarket or looking up at the crowded homes and wires, there are people.  Dodging and darting, standing patiently in lines too long and too slow (for an American?), walking up and down the streets, without complaint or comment.  Stoically accepting what, to me, doesn’t work quite right.   But is this the dark side?  

Brasil, and Brasilians are so proud of their economic growth, and rightly so.  One symbol of this growth is the possibility for more people to own their own cars.  They love their cars, have worked hard for them, keep them in top condition and when able to move upward, go in a better car and someone else on the move up from below, buys the old car…. no waste.  But there has not been equal movement by the government to make and maintain roads, highways, parking…. in the past 5 years driving has become a snarling mess, now the Brasilians also dodge and dart, like they once did on the sidewalks, they now do in their cars.  eeEEKK!

But is this a dark side?

This week I decided that all of these aspects of Brasil (yes Brasil, not just Nova Friburgo) are more cultural than dark.   I am sure that this town of a quarter of a million people has prostitution, drug, muggings, theft, and abuse – but I've had no exposure to them.  I can not see these things while walking on the streets during the day.  These are what make the dark side of any town in any country, any place made up of people.  What we think are the unpleasant – the dark things – as strangers to Brasil are often signs of their cultural habits, with reasons less obvious than what seems to be right before our eyes.   When you see the incomplete homes built in improbable places think about an equivalent 5 gallon of exterior paint that costs close to a days wages – not an hourly rate but a full day is needed to buy the paint for the outside of your home. 

Reflections past and present and other thoughts

Today the sun is shining and the birds are singing in Rio  -  today is my birthday.  60.  Do you remember when you heard your grandmother or your mother was 60 and you thought, ‘that's so old’.  Well let me tell you it isn’t.  I would say that it is just as confusing to be 60 as it was at 16, 20 or 40.  I would say that in every decade there is a new set of thoughts and feeling to be conquered, to be understood.   

I would say that this past year was one of the hard ones.  I lost my one very best friend.  I fought the gain of excess pounds, diet and exercise, diet and exercise – eating, sneaking chocolates, baking cookies, did I say eating – diet and exercise, diet and exercise just to end the year where I started – 156 lbs with a slightly different distribution.   I have begun to see white hair mixed with my dirty blond, the hair is thinner and the cut I have always worn no longer works – what to do with that?  Do I go to color?  Permanents which Camillo hates?  My skin is now definitely wrinkled.   Years of outdoor work and play in the sun, has left my skin as an old lady’s skin, with trips to the dermatologist at least every 4 months to remove spots, and scales and other odd looking stuff from face, arms and chest; a fortune in moisture and other anti-aging junk bought and used.

And this year I seemed to question just what I want the next 40 years to be like.  When you’re 20 or even 40 you don’t have these questions – this feeling of uncertainty, fear of making the wrong choices, of desperation that time is too short are all new feelings.  Feeling to be conquered – to be understood.

A jump to a slightly new topic – Last week after the churrasco two American women and I were chatting.  The youngest of the three of us was talking about her father, comments he would make and the resulting feeling of insecurity she has.  The older woman says ‘I don’t ever let things people say upset me. It is their problem if they don’t like me’ or something of that order.  She an only child, adored by her father, growing up with supreme confidence – a strong ego.  While the younger woman and I, both from large families – not the oldest not the youngest of many -  both with critical fathers, both with apparently low to non-existent egos.  I say this – that I have problems speaking in large groups, that I often find myself shy and unsure.  This very self assured woman laughs and says – “you could have fooled me – none of this showed today.”  I am astounded, it feels like a light switch was thrown.  This is the first time she has met me, she sees me moving from group to group at the churrasco, making sure everyone is served, they have what they need, that they have someone to talk to at all times, doing a little dance now and then when the music moves me ….. seeming supremely self assured – confident.  I was thinking later after everyone was gone – is that women she saw who I am now….? Did she see the real me, have I moved away from the other person, have I lost that little girl somewhere along the way.  Has this life in Brazil metamorphosed me (not sure this is a real word but it communicates the right feeling), without me knowing it?  Has surviving in this foreign land helped me in ways I would never have suspected?  To learn to communicate even without good language skills, to know I can take a bus or a plane OR a taxi any place I want to in this land of the Portuguese language.  Out of boredom deciding to take spinning classes and BOXING lessons – using what is available to me in this life instead of pining for what WAS at home – has this changed me into a supremely confident person?  (maybe a reach but is possible)  These are the question in front of me on the first day of my 61st year.   

Today I would say yes to these question – without realizing the difference I am no longer that girl.  This is the benefit to sixty years of learning.  This is a change that happens with time, with experience, with age.

It doesn’t happen often …

In this life, out of a 52 week year I have maybe 6 weeks that are really busy. It happens the most often when I am traveling or getting ready to travel and this week was no exception. In the past – when I had a life – the spring was always this busy. When I worked I was always the company’s ‘mother’s march against birth defects’  instigator / coordinator – I was always taking a class at the university – I was in the accounting departments so we were closing the books which meant long hours – I was doing my own taxes (first husband owned a business in which I kept the books and did the taxes)  –  in a later time I also started playing soccer in the spring – I was an office manager so there were attorney retreats – and a completely separate list of extra to-dos.  So by the time mid-April came and went I was one tired and happy puppy …. you see I love being busy, the more I have to do the more I get done.

When we moved here and my ‘retirement’ became official, my list of things to do shrank and shrank again as I put taking Portuguese classes, then the post-grad course was finished and behind me, and time - in the best of descriptions – DRAGS. This year I can’t believe it is already March. I have been unusually busy. In January the computer crashed then crashed again, throwing my life into chaos; new operating systems, finding and reloading programs, doing it all over again on the second crash and I then deciding to go to windows 7 and trying to make programs work that haven’t yet caught up to 7.  I am still not in full recovery but today I am caught up with two months of my little accounting job, I have sent emails to a few friends that haven’t heard from me in months (have to tell them I will be in Houston and available for laughing lunches). I have cleaned out my closets and drawers making ready for my new cloths (anticipated shopping).

We had 40 people for a cookout (churrasco) on Saturday (happy birthday to me) and 4 family members stayed over for breakfast on Sunday – I cooked for both occasions along with a churrasceiro who cooked the meat.  Last week was shopping for dishes – we threw out the plastic ones - 20 years old. I needed more table cloths for the outside tables – fabric. I needed to shop here for what I take there as presents – and there I will shop for what I bring back – just a fact of life for an expat. So along with the party on Saturday this week was wonderful.

Camillo left for Rio to get some rest – he worked like a dog putting up tents because it finally decided to rain this week and balloons and cleaning the wine cellar – I will join him on Wednesday, then travel on Sunday and will hit Houston running on Monday morning….. can’t wait.

FSO - Look up / Look down

I took pictures with this post in mind for over 3 weeks, a snap here and a snap there - then the hard part comes, how to put some of them together to tell you a coherent story about Rio or Friburgo - I've ended up with a somewhat eclectic post including a bit from each city.   

In Rio there is a new building near the division between Leblon and Ipanema, from the street level is just an ordinary building but if you look up it becomes a visual pleasure as it shines blue against the blue-gray sky, reflecting the gentle wisp of clouds in the sky behind me.

 

I also took many shots of the sidewalks and entranceways of Ipanema. It is common in Rio to use white / black stones in curving or geometric design. Photo 2 is a simple example.

  

But as you walk along the sidewalks, you have to take special care with the breaks, holes or piles of stones that may lay in wait to halt your feet, twist your ankle, challenge your balance. It is always astonishing to me that the women of Rio wear high, pointed heeled shoes - however do they stay upright on these stone walkways.

  In Friburgo it is a normal that the streets, both public and private, are made of granite stones. They are a bit rough on the car shocks but seem to last forever.

 

My favorite shots though are those from our veranda looking down the valley, whether it be in the yellow of early morning light or the last gray/pink rays of the late afternoon sun.

          

and the last, standing in the garden looking down on the old steps now covered in moss and slowly breaking up, and up above them the house rising high above the trees.

 

  

Thoughts From the Veranda

Camillo has left for two days in Macae. He has barely walked out the door when the silence of the house on the hill surrounds me, a silence so profound that I can hear my own heartbeat in my ears, the soft splat, splat of the moisture from the fog hitting the roof, a lone bird calling, a clock ticking.  I have a second cup of coffee.  I make the bed.  I load the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher.  I have a load of laundry to do. Fifteen minutes has passed.  A day less 15 minutes is in front of me.

All the time I am doing these basic chores, I make an effort to frame a day that will pass filled, happy. No not happy but content.  I can run into Friburgo and do a spinning class.  I can call Tatiana for lunch.  I can work down in the vegetable garden, turn some soil, try to make something grow.  Pull weeds. Take photos. The two days will pass.

But I get dressed, putting on shorts and a work top, no workout cloths and I know this mean I won’t go into town, but I ignore that knaggy little voice that knows I won’t do any of the plan for the day.  I already have my excuses ready. I drove into town two times yesterday and will go tomorrow, why today?  If I want I can go later to bike class but, then it will be raining. I have to wait for the gardener to leave for the day before I can go down and work in the vegetable garden. And by the time he leaves it will be raining.

I have heard all of these before, all the excuses. I know that this indicates a deep depression, one I am able to ignore on a daily basis but one that always comes to the front when alone, in the silence, in the house on the hill. {My computer is in the shop getting a new hard drive} I go upstairs to Camillo’s computer and look at some blogs I follow. I read B&B for my daily dose of humor and write a long comment,  momentary feelings of connection to the real world.  I see one from Texas Heather, I open it. Today she talks of purpose. What she says strikes a deep cord in me. Purpose, purpose is missing. I float from day to day, month to month until another year has passed and then another. If I had a purpose what could it be?  

She asks “… if there were one word that would describe what you want for yourself in the next year what would it be?” I am stymied.  I awake every morning with my first thought being, ‘I want to go home’. I go to sleep each night with the thought, ‘I want to go home’. Camillo’s says if you want to go – GO.  But then what?  Heather has used just the right word.  Purpose.  This is what Camillo is telling me, for what purpose would I go. How would my purpose be different in Houston than it is up here on this hill?  If I don’t have a dream, a plan, A PURPOSE here, will I have one there? The thought that I would have no purpose there stops me, freezes, frightens. Maybe this feeling is not about being here but the lack of purpose in general. 

How has this happened? I have always been motivated, energetic, interested and now I’m floating just to get by, to pass the day, tick tock, tick tock goes the clock.

still thinking

It has been raining for 5 days. We have had our Internet blown out again by a lighting strike. Our phones are still not working and may need to replace the actual phones. Tomorrow the washer will get a new panel (hopefully). Then maybe life will get back to normal until the next major storm comes through.

A few weeks ago (http://gingersflowers.blogspot.com/2009/10/today-i-have-appointment.html)

I talked about having a meeting with the Private language school, Britannia. I went to the meeting, really enjoyed talking to the coordinator for the course. She was young (and late by 30 minutes) and enthusiastic, easy to talk to. I was given a 'task' to do to tell them were I was in my knowledge of English. I just imagine that this is more for Brazilians wanting to take the course - to see where they are. BUT if you can imagine I learned English grammar what 50 - 55 years ago. I speak it well, and if you ignore punctuation errors, I write it well. To tell you what verb tense I am using and why I am using it, to tell you the difference between thin versus skinny or win versus beat, or to define modal verbs, I was somewhat lost. Really all of this is beside the point. The point being that I have decided that I do not want to pay a lot of money to earn so little. IF I start teaching right away, IF I teach routinely, if I find I LOVE teaching, if I don't take any trips to the USA or elsewhere for a year or so, If I deduct the cost of going and coming and supplying materials, IF - I can recoup my money in close to two years.............. This just doesn't work for me. Bottom line, I refused the Britannia course. Do you remember the course in linguistics I took a couple years back? One of the professors ask is I would (volunteer) to help a young Brazilian taking the course this year with her monograph. This I will like doing and don't mind doing it for free. Helping her organize her thinking, clarify statement, keep her on track - this I can do and I think do it well. For now it will do.

Weekend plans

Camillo and I are off to Bahia again today. We will spend the weekend on an island off the coast of Salvador. I am hoping for some photos to share at the first of the week. As this is at a private beach house, we are not anticipating Internet connection until we go into the city late Monday afternoon. 'Ya'all have a great weekend, ya hear.'

 

Marina - Salvador, Bahia, Brasil

(I have 20 minutes for comments on 'landscapes' then I am out of here - catch everyone else on Monday and Tuesday. )

Today I have an appointment

Camillo and I are in Rio for this week. Usually when we come into the city it is because Camillo has appointments and I am not an enthusiast of staying alone in our (super) quiet house on the hill, so I come. You have to remember that these appointments of his are not for doctors or other things you would imagine an 83 year old would need but to talk to company/area managers/geophysicist of oil companies here in Brasil.

And this week isn't any different. This week while he is thinking and planning and making presentations on the computer I also have a plan..... Well it is simple and not time consuming and definitely not something I have to prepare for - other than a good shower and putting on cloths a little more formal than gym cloths - but I have an appointment.

 

This morning I am going around the corner - literally - to talk with the coordinator of the Britannia School of English. They offer a course that certifies English teachers. The CELTA.

I have been told I can teach English Second Language (ESL) because I am a native speaker, but I have my doubts. How does a bookkeeper/auditor, office manager, and mother experience help you teach English? Trying to learn Portuguese gives me empathy, but what do I know about teaching methods and process? I don't even know if my natural temperament is good for teaching. I am pretty much a, 'I'll show you 3 times, and if you don't get by then...' type of person. In other words impatient. I know I can 'be there' and 'collect the check' but can I teach. Camillo thinks I am just trying to come with reason why I won't do this but I know myself quite well and I have not been sure that teaching is for me.

 

This course is also R$3600.00. Hummmm!  At today's exchange rate that is US$2055.00 and some change. For one month in the classroom. I can take one year towards a master in Linguistic at the University of Houston for the same US dollars.  Of course I am not in Houston, I am in Rio SO this is my option. This is really the issue here. I feel this is my only option if I want to work, to do SOMETHING in Brasil. My Portuguese is so limited that I am limited. But after my meltdown a few weeks ago I know I need to try to pursue something.... Okay, today I at least talk to someone about taking a step.  Wish me luck.

Cooking in the Kitchen

I don't know what I will use for a photo in this entry but maybe I'll be inspired by the time I get to the end.   Coming up in April 2010 I will have been in Brazil for 7 years.  Can you believe it?   In a movie we were watching a couple nights ago the main character, a prisoner in prison for a crime he didn't commit ( of course) said, 'each day seems to drag by then you realized 15 years have passed.' I understood exactly what he was saying. Time in the moment moves slow, time over time zaps by leaving me flabbergasted at what I haven't done, about how did my body get so old.

Boy did I get off topic....   So I have been here 7 years. It is hard for a person who has always lived in the same town, the same State, or even the same Country to know how different just the day to day things are when you live in a new Country. Just an example - here powdered cinnamon is 'Canela oa China em pó' and basil is manjericão, and those are the easy things.

 

I have been striving (finally) to expand the type of meal I cook here. Tired of chicken and, well, chicken and fish. I had Camillo take me to a butcher shop and we decided on several different meat types. Meat here is very lean, and the names of the cuts not recognizable. First I did leg of lamb. Camillo thought it great but hated the mess I made in the kitchen. No pan with rack so I cooked it on the oven's rack with a drip pan underneath.....(when I cook he cleans up, when he cooks I clean up). Even with the mess it was so good we went back for more. (meats)

I came away with what they called (translated) an American roast. Not all stories can be a success. This ended up being a very thin piece of dry meat wrapped around a SAUSAGE! Camillo great and supportive husband that he is, ate it with gusto.... but was pretty bad.

 

Lesson learned:  never buy what they call TIPO (type) Americano or Italiano.….anything. is not what you expect.  It is something someone imagines to be American or Italian but I suspect they have never been further than their mother's back door.

 

I have done Salmon with honey mustard marinade - Salmon is good here, and this was delicious and now am trying pork chops, which tend to be dry, very dry with no marbling of fat, using the same marinate. In just a few minutes I will put it in the oven and bake them. Am going to add a side of risotto with fresh mushrooms......

 

I am willing to listen to any and all suggestions. Remember that recipes that call for specifics, like cream by your local Farmer or like sour cream which I have never found here, might be difficult for me to find equivalents and I do not have fancy pans and can not get them without waiting for a trip to the USA. But give me your ideas or what you have learned - and we will see.

Coping Skills

I've not read much about it but it became apparent this week just how linked our physical condition is to our coping abilities. My post this past week showed I am caving a bit under the pressure of my unanswered questions. None of the questions are new ones, they have been with me at least for the past 5 years. Sometimes they are just a mildly sore places where if I probe at them them become inflamed, but if ignored, well they are under control.

 

I go about my business, doing my exercising, trying to speak Portuguese, testing my skill at being independent in a dependent situation. Sometimes the soreness gets to be unbearable and I make an extended trip to Houston, cook for my daughter's family, visit my mother, drive, talk, handle problems, start to feel like me again, and become renewed in my resolves to make it in Brazil.

 

This past 10 days (or more) I have had what I finally determined is an inner ear infection. I haven't run a fever so didn't think it could be inner ear. A trip to the Internet last night assured me that I either have an incurable disease or my inner ear is messed up. There were about 3 days where I could barely walk the vertigo and nausea were so bad. There is a cracking and popping, feeling of stuffiness in both ears and my eyesight is blurred. I finally laid down on the sofa with a book, a blanket and a hot water bottle and allowed all the bad feelings, and the unanswered questions to come the surface. I thought that this had to be psychological I felt so bad. Unfortunately it was during this time that I wrote my blog post.

 

My eyesight had to be blurred because I spent so much time on the Internet. My life is being wasted.  I needed to drop out. It is probably good at this time to explain to you that I am hardly ever sick. I get an upset stomach from time to time, and generally have two sinus headaches a year - I am a very bad sick person.  No, I think I need to deal with my unanswered questions but definitely don't need to drop out.  Cutting myself off from my limited human contact will not solve anything. Like the photo insert, I need to allow some rays of sun to shine in the dark places. Now I need to go back to the sofa and rest my eyes some more.

Chin hair and other unanswered questions

 

Since early of 2007 when I started blogging as a guest writer for notamissionary by Riorose and then creating “Flowers’ in January of 2009, I have been using blogging as a means of expressing myself as a foreigner in a foreign land, showing my photos (hopefully as they have improved), and as a means of talking about places I have traveled.

Lately I began to interact more in cyberspace. Looking at other’s blogs and photos, and reading their thoughts and making comments that do not really constitute conversation. It is like that game often played at New Year’s Eve parties where you attach your wish to a balloon and with the help of some hot air, send it up into space – will it land where it is valued or be found and entertain?

I have found that the more I look and read other blogs, the less I write on my own. My head has become full of questions and confusion, full of sadness and feelings of loss. I have been afraid to write about what is bothering me. Afraid that I would be read by this large group of cyber writers/thinkers, I would be found whiny and negative. Unpleasant. They all seem so bright and poetic, so talented. Their lives so full of family and fun. Their problems when mentioned seem to be real problems. Mine have become insignificant, superficial by comparison in my own mind.

I am exhausted by the effort. The effort to stand straight, to be in balance, to always see the world as a beautiful place. This is not natural. There are bad days, there is sadness, graffiti, trash, loss, hunger – why are my feelings less because they are mine? Because I live in a nice house with a beautiful view, and I take no pills for a major illness, because (pray) Camillo and my families are well and prospering, why can I not talk about what does bother me? Why is it not important that I feel thick and stiff, and hate the face hair that has taken over as I age? Why isn’t it important that I am not where I need to be to help with my mother and my granddaughter? Why isn’t important the I feel life ebbing away as I sit in this house on the hill? Why isn’t it important that I fear losing Camillo who is only 4 years younger than Luisa?

This past month I have missed my friend Luisa who passed last month. I miss her for many reasons, but the most because she was my sounding board. With real and immediate feedback about what I was saying. She was always without fail on my side. I did not need to be perfect in front of her, over the 20 years of our friendship she had heard it all. I have been told that she is in a better place now. We would like to think and believe that, but no one really knows, and for me having her here was the best place.

I think that I will no longer write comments on other blogs. Maybe I wont even visit them. I need to drop out. I need the feeling of being anonymous, so I can go back to writing out my thoughts as I feel them. It is my only release, my only way to blow away some of the cloud cover and have a chance once again feel like me.

Visiting the true tropics

 

Yesterday I walked for two hours along the beach here in Salvador, I managed to get a good burn all across my forehead and around the edge of my shirt at the neck and the shoulders - it was my own fault, and yes I still love this city.

It seems more moderate in temperature than both Houston and Rio de Janeiro. The city is on the tip of a promontory so it is surrounded (on three sides) by the sea and a breeze blows constantly.  Because of the prevailing winds and because it sets very close to the equator - the temperatures do not vary during the year.  The sky is a bright clear blue, and combined with the slow friendly smiles of the Bahians, Salvador definitely feels tropical.

 

In a way that is surprising to me - because I have fought the process - I have come to love Brasil. And because of this feeling of affection, I really despair at the look of rot that permeates the cities here. Camillo and I argue constantly about this.  He thinks I am just criticizing the country, but I really don't understand. If I say anything to anyone here their response is that there just isn't money..... ho hum..... the government is corrupt.... ho hum.... it is a poor country.... ho hum...

 

It does not take money to be clean. (now Camillo reading this will say.... "yes, we know but its not the same") My upbringing in the 50s and 60s was poor. Seven children, one parent working as a policeman in a small town, one pair of shoes a year in September, hand-me-down dresses and donation boxes for Christmas from our church, yes we were poor.             

 

But never would we have dumped our garbage on the street, on

the side of the road, on the beach for the non existent government trash-pick-up to  clean up for us. Our mother would have taken a broom stick to our backside if she caught us dropping trash anywhere inside or outside of our home.

 

I just really don't understand the expensive hotel with the high fence, that doesn't keep the street in front clean, and its sidewalk in good repair.... this is not about being poor this is some other self image that is just wrong ......... A national low self esteem?

 

Anyone here will say 'it is our government' but is it the government that lets the outside of private property begin to crumble and die..... I just can't understand. 

The Hippy Square – Sunday Street Market

 

I am going to start this blog entry and hope for the best.  If I am not coherent just make the best of it.  Camillo and I have been in Rio since Thursday afternoon – dinner with a couple from the USA on Thursday night, dinner with Camillo’s family on Friday night, the wedding of his oldest grandchild on Saturday with a party after, lunch with the family yesterday and a ‘snack’ with friends last night…. My mind is in a high carbohydrate, lack of sleep deep freeze this morning.

We have tried to get out and walk everyday, a small effort with no real affect I’m afraid. Yesterday, we walked down to the Praça General Osório or the HIPPY SQUARE as Camillo has always referred to it.

At the very beginning of Ipanema this small park has an open air market every Sunday, from about 10 am until maybe 3 in the afternoon. It is a great place to find simple trinkets, leather handbags, and custom designed jewelry that doesn’t cost and arm or a leg. There are (buyer beware) things ‘made in China’ but the majority of vendors sell handcrafted items.  I have bought hand puppets and well dressed, soft bodied baby dolls for just about every grandchild or little girl that I know from one of the vendors. Generally I go by at Christmas and before travel to the States looking for presents.

Yesterday a few different items caught my eye and (surprise!) I took some photos for you to see for yourself.     So typically Brazilian – the strings of colored beads, crystals from Brazil and wooden, painted parrots to hang in a window,    

 

 

 

tiny little stained glass bowls and window hangings, fruit mad of CERA (wax and coconut milk (?)) and head bands for the innocent or not, with glass decorations.

 

 

And these were all my favorites, bowls made with tightly woven pages from magazines and newspapers, dolls of paper Mache and from pine cones, and fabric rugs of every conceivable color….
look what I brought home for the apartment’s kitchen table -