Security Check

I have done security check ups countless amount of time. Flying solo with one or even two kids, having to empty the stroller basket while holding a crying child, having to debate the need to carry breast milk/baby jars to an agent, having to get my children to walk barefoot through the metal detector, having to empty all my carefully overpacked diaper back (and stuff it back while watching the kids run away), having to go through the super special security because I flew with an empty suitcase (I need to return it back to my dad), having to drink all my water before putting my bag in the scanner, having to do two or even three checks in the same airport because of terminal changes, well, having done in enough times in enough differently pressing situation, I usually feel ready for it all, specially when flying alone, without the kids. 

But already the Brazilian airport security seems to have a different take at things than anywhere else. When we landed in Sao Paolo in our historical flight, the security did not allow the kids to bring the scooters at the gates of our next flight (Sao-Brasilia). We needed to check them, to go back to the counter and check them as luggage.  The agents were inflexible, despite our accounts of international airpots allowing them (we could recall Beijing, Hong Kong, Tel Aviv, Istambul, Paris, Montreal, Québec, Bangkok, Moscow, among others). We were unusure of what were the reasons behind this request - I am still speculating here - are they afraid of us smuggling gun powder in the frame of the rolling device? Afraid of it being used to steal bags from old ladies and escape super fast? Or simply afraid we could use the frame as a weapon?? You tell me.

Today I just went through security again. Now that I boarded this flight for my extended weekend on mommy-cation, a couple things at the security still leave me perplex. First, they did not mind my 125 or even 150 ml bottles of liquid - and I had a few as did not checked my bag for this short escapade. Second, they did not asked me pull my computer out of the bag (this is a real pleasant novelty). But, they asked me to take off my jewelry, necklace and bracelet. As if I could conceal a weapon in them... 

Luckily they did not ask to remove my wedding ring, because I would not have been able to fly. 

And a bonus photo of Brasilia's international airport, looking from the third floor down to the arrival floor and below the departure hall. 

Birthday Boys - part one

To alleviate some of my angst about the whole Birthday Affair, and to avoid driving ourselves mad in preparing this event, we decided to go for our own version of a small but memorable anniversary celebration.  As this is admittedly important for our little crew - a really serious event for them - a bit of mental preparation and explanation had to be done to ensure disappointment would not follow (too much)...
Our recipe: A baking activity involving my small crew. As a result, a few homemade super-decorated cupcakes. A bunch of Brazilian treats, especially sweet. A set of funny hats - Pluto and Donald for instance.  Of course, a small cake for each boy, with a special candle that doesn't blow out right away.  A picnic set-up, with table cloth, juices, plates. A fine location, here, under some nice trees in a pretty waterfront area. A number of well selected gifts. Then numerous calls with relatives abroad.

We wanted to create a nice memory, a nice moment, and save the party for a little later, when we would be installed in our new house.  The result was pretty good, we felt. We had a good time. They looked happy, pleased, content. 

But as I am writing, they are not forgetting about the second part, in the new house. Nothing is missing their eyes, these little guys. I guess this is what is called maturing. 

Birthdays Angst

Kids birthday parties is a big industry here. Parents take this event very seriously. Since our arrival we have already been to four anniversaries, and are expected to go to many more. From my now experienced eye, the parties should have the specific elements to be succesful. 
First; there has to have a table with an elaborate cake, with a theme - some cartoon hero, kids movie character or something similar to that. The cake, usually quite elaborate, should be displayed on a table, covered in decoration where sweets are hidden, displayed or integrated. There should be a background wall of a color similar to the table cover, so that the little kids family can stand behind the cake at a strategic moment - the candle blowing - and be completely bombarded by photographers. 

Second; there should be some kind of animation, usually a clown painting faces, making kids (and sometimes adults) play games like musical chairs, limbo, or other silly things. A piniata is optional, but enjoyed. 


Third; food should be of various kinds, and should be flowing unlimited. Popcorns, juices and sodas, mini sandwiches, and other light food are served on trays to little kids by an empregada or even better, a waiter. 
Fourth; something to jump on - usually a trampoline or a bouncy castle - should be rented, and used to get the kids extremely excited until the animation starts. 


Fifth; all friends from the class are invited, usually with the help of a very pretty little invitation card. Sixth; you should bring a present. (Read my post about the cost of things here, and imagine what it means to have to attend to a combination of 23 plus 17 little friends' anniversaries). 
Seventh; parents are expected to attend, it is a social event on its own. 
Eight; it has to last four hours. To which you are not expected to arrive on time (thanks god), but should departs only after the traditional birthday song is sang. 

So you imagine the pressure I feel having two little boys sharing the same birthday tomorrow. I have been mulling over this for the last couple weeks, wondering on how to approach this. How to resist this extravaganza. Afraid of it actually. Various reasons push me to fear this, the first being the gigantisimic proportions this would take if all 40 little colleagues come along with parents and siblings. A 200 person party for my 3 and 5 year old? Really, that is the norm?!

Hidden behind the W3

The other day we walked home from school. It was not really intended, the car needed to be reviewed by some official ministry, and we could not find a cab. Slowly, we made our way to our Quadra 106.  The walk was much shorter than I had expected, even with my kids slowest speed and their numerous pauses for a newly found stick or rock or other natural treasure.
The layout of this area of the city intended to create spaces between the quadras where people could find services (like the little library or the police station) and move freely from one place to another.
From the school, we crossed the street and walked pass another kindergarden. Much discussions on why we could not go play in that playground. And a quick look at the colorful simple modern concrete block of its building.

One minute later, we were walking pass right beside these garage-door houses of the W3. In fact, only one row of these houses have their facade on the W3, and four or five more rows are lined behind the first one. Each of these two row of houses are facing each other, with their facade creating what could have been a civic street, but resembling more a display of garage door options of a catalogue. The back of these houses is occupied by private small courtyards of a few square meters - 20 or 25 m2 maybe - lined up against each other, caged-in by high wrought iron fences of different motives. What is really interesting is that the back of these rows. Instead of a tight layout of rows back to back against one another, the planners have allowed for a green space between the yards of each row, creating a great corridor of verdure, with large trees. It is particularly pleasant now with this heat.
The contrast between their closed facades, brut in style and furthter roughened up by graffitis; and the luxuriant green corridor is almost incompatible. And so different from the general feeling one has in the city; this is a place where walking is pleasant, welcomed, even encouraged - if only limited to the short length of a few blocks.

In fact, when it comes to lanes and alleys behind urban housing, I always found these spaces very inspiring and evocative. Daniel Toole, a Seattle architect who studied lanes extensively, qualifies lanes as "a refuge from the city". My personal love of alleys probably started in Montreal's lanes, les ruelles, so rich of unexplored potential, with layers of textures emerging from various owners, small renovations and other activities not usually meant to be on display. They are also at times dirty, as they were intended to be for garbage collection, a place to run electricity lines, an access to each house's individual parking space. In Montreal's collective imagery, the ruelle plays a important role, a place where kids play, learn to bike and where neighbors interact. Famous writers have set their stories in them, while some are now converted either in "green lanes" or pedestrian lanes.  

This book documented Montreal's lanes.
In Beijing, this semi-private/semi-public space was not exactly possible in the public housing projects, neither in the private ones, simply for their density and their scale. Yet the lanes of the old city, the Hutongs, were clearly potent with a life and an activity unique in the city, but in a different, more public way. In fact, the traditional Beijing houses were laid out back to back, leaving the front door as the mere access to the public sphere, a very narrow lane. The private activities that occur daily in front of these houses - whether it is drying laundry, playing cards, reading, napping, managing a renovation, stocking goods, or simply watching the lane's hustle bustle (lots of people do only that) - all could only happen because of the very tight layout of houses, one against another. These houses, with a set of unconnected rooms opening all to a peaceful courtyard, were meant originally for only one family. Over the years, they have slowly lost their center, as their courtyard has been taken over by invasive internal additions and populated by several families; they have been cannibalized from the inside. Consequently the lane becomes the breathing space of the residents.

The topic of hutongs are worth more than one post - hopefully later in my other blog. 
Yet, if Beijing's public space became more of a display of private uses due to the residents' lack of private spaces (as it is often typical in Asia), if Montreal's ruelles have a charm despite being a utilitarian space in the first place, the lanes of the W3 houses are different. The in-between backdoor space of the W3 row houses feels more intimate, despite their public condition. At the opposite of Montreal's alleys, the back of the every courtyards is exposed to the walkers, through high fences. The canopy of the trees, the lush plant carpet, the quasi absence of a hard path and the absence of other walkers makes you feel that a promenade is a bit an excursion in people's private lives. This is not an alley for services. It primary use is to be enjoyed. And it is a pleasant respire from the car oriented culture of the capital city. 

Another Interesting Find Around my Quadra

So this morning after dropping the kids in school, I drove by the little library to take a few more pictures. While I was walking around on the carpet of dried leaves, I noticed a small and cute little structure a little further away. While I started to take pictures of it, I quickly got noticed. Indeed, a man standing in the little boot seemed to mind my curiosity. I could see him standing in the boot in a strategic way making sure to keep an eye on me while I shot away.
Wanting to avoid trouble, yet wanting a few more pictures, I imagined the best strategy would be to approach the object of my curiosity, use my most precious portuguese wizardry and disclose my status of architect - a genuine reason for someone taking photos of a small unknown and strange building at 7h45 in the morning - and see how many more shots I could gain.
I scored high. It turns out the booth is actually a small police station - for the military police to be exact - and is one of a few specimen built when the city was initially completed. The policeman was actually quite friendly once he understood what I was doing, and even invited me to take pictures inside. Like what, being an architect in Brasilia can open a few unexpected doors!

A Little Find in the Middle of our Quadra

Noam was invited to play by one of classmate; the little boy happens to luckily live right next to our Quadra, in Quadra 107. In a city like Brasilia, it is very unlikely to go to a play date without a car, but we did today. What a pleasure to pull the little scooters out the door!
After a nice time inside playing with everything available, and eating delicious cakes, we set out to visit the local children's library.
Again, a little gem hidden between concrete non-descipt walls, sitting in the middle of what looks like a typical in-between-quadra no-man's-land.

After the metal-bars door is pushed, we walked into a great space filled with books. It feels like a prefect hideout for the end of our afternoons.
And then while I was contemplating my kids emptying the shelves with their typical grace, I discovered that the ceiling is pierced by a number of fairly large openings, under which are standing planters and plants. I stood there, in amazement. How can a library, of all buildings, be left open to elements like this? Rain, wind, insects, dust, dried leaves falling from the surrounding trees?
Looks like nobody else than me seem to think it is surprising!

Vai Chover!

It has been really hot recently. When we arrived, it was quite fresh, with nights at 15 degrees maybe, and days below 25. We needed covers at night, and long sleeves and pants during the day. Then after a couple weeks, the weather just became all a sudden more hot, including during the nights.
In fact the whole region has been under a drought warning for quite a few weeks, there has been no rain for a long time - probably more than 3 months. I did not really expect the heat, as I did not read about extreme weather in Brasilia, rather about a more temperate and even weather, year-long. The heat at 12 o'clock has been important; Noam described it as "hot like if-I-was-being-baked-in-the-oven hot". It was a bit surprising to me to hear him talk in these terms. Our time in Israel earlier this summer, with its blaring 40 degrees at 9 AM, has somewhat rendered me immune to this more reasonable heat; it was so cooking hot over there that these mere 35 degrees are not too cooking hot. Yet, the reduced amount of humidity in the air (less than 20%) is a real problem, posing a health threat to the weaker ones, giving headaches to many, and simply making everyone more tired and cranky. In schools, the government requested to limit all physical education and physical activities, to limit the movements of kids to avoid further dehydration. In the French School, the balls and small tricycles were put away.
And everyone has been waiting for the rain, hoping for it to come soon.
Finally today, at lunch time, it has showed its feathers in a few lovely drops... I looked up, the sky was gorgeous, with the clouds and the sun rays battling up there. And tonight the rain has really arrived, full on, tropical way, with thunder and lightnings, the wind gushing across our place.
Oh! does it feel good to feel this breeze! Oh! does it smell nice and refreshing!

My days

Long day:
Up at 5 having a coffee with my hubby before his departure for a couple days of business travels, getting ready, doing my language homework, eventually dressing and feeding the kids, driving them to school, prepare a quick meal for lunch, then portuguese lessons, meeting other UN spouses, coffee at a friend's house (along with 20 others) (while gathering essential life saving data about where to buy things, how to deal with administrative procedures, and so forth), drive 20 km to pick up kids from school, pull kids out of school playground, drive home, warm meal up, eat/feed, go do some errants (unsuccessfully), buy popsicle for everyone, drive to a kid friend's house (another 15 km), chat with mom (while kids play) (gather more data), swim with kids (coooold), drive home (15 km), pick up dry cleaning, cook dinner, eat/feed, skype grandpa, bath kids, read story, call daddy, put in bed, dishes, prepare bags for next day, do homework for next day language class, wash clothes, pay bills online. 23h00. Maybe blog.

Falling Apart

No, I should not complain. We could be living in a 35 square meter room all four of us piled up on each other, in one of the few apartment hotels in town. Instead we have been able to find a short term rental apartment ready at our arrival.
While the apartment looked decent at first glance, and has plenty of space - probably about 180 square meters and three bedrooms - many of its features just did not make me feel comfortable.
Yes this post will be a free ranting one - so skip it if reading complains is not your thing.
Details in the unit were at first putting me off.
A full side of the unit is having no windows. Well, there are openings, things to allow the air in, but not way for me to see anything outside - and as a visual, it is often frustrating to hear noises and conversations occurring a few meters down, yet not be able to see anything. The capoira gathering, the school fairs, the recess, the garbage truck, the call of some vendors. All of this remains sounds without images.
Then there is the very limited kitchen equipment, the lack of washing machine, and the fact that the place was rented to us really dirty. I spent the first night cleaning it.
An other element of disappointment for me has been the general low level of quality of things in the unit. Again, if I had imagined that Brazil is "emerging" from so low, or if I had imagined something near Africa, there would have been no upset. But in fact I have lived in much worst places before - in India, in Liberia, in Senegal, in Congo. Yet arriving from China, with all the things that we had there, our landing in Brasilia has been feeling more like a sharp downgrade.
Here is a photo of Emmanuel eating in our kitchen. I hated the place so much that I did not take pictures of it.

So a few days after our arrival, the sink got blocked. Upon looking under the sink, I realized that the pipes are all made of flexible thin plastic tubes of a very really narrow shape - explaining why they clogged quickly. The brother of the owner came to fix it almost right away.
A few days later, the freezer started to beep and to unfroze. This model has a digital thermometer, showing us the slow rise of degrees. As we had brought with us about 15 kg of French cheeses (then frozen), it was really urgent to get this fixed. Again, a few visits of owner's brother followed by a repair person, the appliance was fixed and our cheeses saved.
Then slowly we started to find a smell of gaz. At times it felt more obvious, at other times, not so much. At one point I decided to leave the windows open, just in case, to make sure the air would never get too saturated. A few days later, it was just too much. Again, a few visits from the now very friendly owner's bro, followed by a few more visits of some specialist. The stove was the problem, with a burner completely broken, leaking gas. It was changed for a new one.
But it was not enough, the installation was problematic, and gas was still leaking. So the guy from reception came to fix it. By this time, I forgone the owner's bro, and figure we needed a more efficient action.
Then a few days later, while reading a story to Noam, I heard the noise of something falling. I went back to the kitchen, unable to notice anything different from when I left it a few minutes earlier. Only later did I realized that a few tiles in the washroom had fallen down on their own.
At least by then I knew we were going to leave - our lease was signed. What a relief!

What Appears Dead Might Reveal Itself Otherwise

In front of our window stand what I thought was a very tall dried-out tree. 
A couple days ago it bloomed incredibly beautiful bright yellow pompon flowers. 
My window looks like a Japanese picture.

The city is sparkled with these beautiful surprises. Was told they are called "ipê" but I have not found anything called like that in my dictionary. I found they would be actually called Paratudo or Craibeira. These trees bloom during the drought, their flowers come only for a few days, before the leaves. They usually announce the beginning of the rainy season. They would have some medicinal properties, healing fever, inflammations, digestives problems. Check here for a beautiful picture of a full tree. 

The Big Day

For weeks now we have been crossing our fingers, our toes, our hair, well whatever we could, in hope that this house we saw would become our house. I superstitiously withheld writing about it in fear that it would just vanish in front of us. Because this house is really really nice. In fact it has all these features we thought would be ideal for a house in Brasilia.  Yet after a few days visiting houses, we felt it would be most unlikely to find all of these combined in one house. Yet this house has it all.
Then at the end of one of our tours, we were taken a bit further, on a hill. On its sides were a few really nice houses, newer, more modern, all with a view. This house was there, above us. Several things made it stand out:  a immense yard, planted with a nice selection of trees, a magnificent view of the city, a  path and a driveway in stepping stones (leaving more green to the eye than a paved entry), a immense lap pool, a sauna, an outdoor pizza oven and BBQ (churasqueria). This house has a smart design, even if haciendish, with more taste and less flash, in a simple, white and wood, way. And a good layout, with lots of light in every room.
So in any cases, immediately after we visited it, we told the agent we wanted to meet the owner to discuss the details. The next morning, a Saturday, we met him, and his family - daughter, grandma, girlfriend. He toured us around, showing us all those things he loves about his house - each trees, each feature he had invested in to make it comfy and beautiful. Eventually details were discussed and negotiated. After reaching some general agreements, my husband's office was then mandated to prepare a lease, with the help of lawyers. Even if the rent here is high, we definitely get more for our money than when we were in Beijing.
Then we started to wait. Days passed. No news. Even the agent of the owner did not pick up the phone.
I started to imagine the worst: we negotiated too low, the owner is finding a more wealthy tenant; he changed his mind, realizing he loves it too much to leave it; he does not like the standard contract we have to use, being too complicated and legally involved...
And then one day, almost one month later, the contract came back with a few requests for changes. And a signing date. And today is the date we are signing it. I still can't believe this house will become ours for a few years!
I just have to be more patient. Less than a month, and we move in!