Welcome home?

Leaving Floripa to return to Brasilia. Flying back with the kids is always an excitement for them: they get un-interupted TV time and video games. And a pause for me. Our exit of the airport was slow, luggages slow to come out, kids' nature calling timely as always. We boarded a cab and headed home.

The driver pulled up to our dark driveway and unloaded our suitcases at the front door. Home sweet home.
Supposedly.
I approached our parked car, hopeful it would be repaired, as I had instructed. Nope. The bumper was the same old torn piece of metal. I will have to go myself deal with the insurance next week. Deep sigh. 
Upon stepping in our house, I felt in a different climatic zone: it was probably one of the hottest day of the year, and the windows were left closed all day, accumulating heat and transforming the house into a very uncomfortable box. In other places, it would be easy to fix, but in the night the house is difficult to ventilate without inviting mosquitos and other beechoos in.  (In Portuguese, a beechoo is a creature, whether four legged or multi-legged). To be hot or to be bitten, that is the question. Sigh.
A few minutes later, I noticed a few more things that were left unattended despite my instructions. Sigh.
A plane passed noisily. Deep breath. It is only temporarily.
I unpacked quickly some of our things and dumped them in our new machine machine. I am still without any real household help. Sigh.
Then a little later when sitting in front of freshly made instant chinese noodles (my guilty take on comfort food for the kids), Emmanuel spurred out: "Mom, why are we here?" Me: "Honey, this is our house, this is where we live." Him: "Yes, but daddy is not here." Me: "True, for now. But he will return soon, in two dodos, in two nights." Him: "But why are we here, in Brazil?" Me: "Because it is where daddy's work is." Him: "No. His work is in China. I want to go home now."
Double sigh. 
Me too. 
A cockroach passed by.
Deep breathing. 

A Remote Escape

While I am here struggling to entertain my crew with interesting activities interrupted by necessary errants, my dear husband is struggling to learn the language on a fast track. No interpreter will do here, no China anymore. So a few weeks ago, foreseeing a window of opportunity, he organized for himself an intensive interlude of immersion. After considering a few options, Florianopolis, or Floripa for the locals, on the island of Santa Catarina, was selected as a good destination. For studying near a beach is certainly a more palatable option than urban learning, even if beach times are not included in the intensive learning.
So Paul left on a Sunday night for two weeks.  In the middle of it all, me and the kids landed in Floripa, dragged my husband away from his learning and escaped out of the urbanity of the small regional center to a very very remote sanctuary south of the island: The Pousada Sitio dos Tucanos.
I mean we really escaped.
It was like landing in a  jungle garden from paradise. An old German lady, Gerta, came there 30 years ago. Slowly she transformed this portion of a mountain into a lush garden of eden. One our third morning, Noam excitedly reported that hundreds of iris bloomed overnight. A few rooms and a couple of cottages, all simple but decorated with creativity and care, make us feel that we had all we needed. Scrumptious breakfasts of bread, muesli, jams, cakes and cookies, jams and fruits sauces, all homemades, fresh juices and fruits from the garden. Yummy! Dinners, even if simple, were delicious, and so pretty to eye. I really like the fresh salad decorated with edible flowers... The kids also were able to enjoy the company of one of Gerta's dog, Firula, who was the sweetest. Every time she would see Noam, she would turn herself on her back, waiting for a few caresses. A very good cure to the dog fear my two little ones had recently developed.

Do you see the nice parrot?

We also took time to explore the island. On our first day we drove north of Floripa in search of the perfect oyster spot. We ended up on the West coast, near a village called Sambaqui. Oysters were perfect. On our way back, we pasted some nice surf beaches on the East coast, where the kids played tirelessly in the foam of the waves.




On our second day, avoiding the more touristic and commercial north of the island, we went up our hill and pass to the other to the other side of the island. It was so rough we almost regretted not having rented a 4X4. There on the other side, we found a more authentic village, more secluded, and more typical, with the same divine mollusk. I think it is named Lapa, but I am unclear...
We returned via the long route around the lagoon Peri, and stopped in Reibeirao da Ilha to join the villagers cheering a girls football match. Later we tried to get some food in the village of Armaçao, a surfer hangout, but could only get some pastels, a pastry filled with various filling.



On the Monday, Paul took the car to get back to his school, in the city. The commute was a little "extreme" with a two hours of traffic, for only 45 km (or maybe less)...
On my side, I just spend the day at the beach a little village near the pousada, Pantano do Sul. There, I sat on a deck of the restaurant of an old lady with a captain hat. I spent three full hours watching the kids play with a little boy named Davide, running in and out of the water, building dams and ponds, rolling themselves in water, constructing and demolishing castles. The waves were small and the water shallow, the beach empty and the weather just perfect with some clouds. For the first time in five years, I found myself almost "forgotten". Nobody really needed anything from me. But as Murphy's law goes, I didn't carry that one book that I meant to read, as usually it is just added weight to my bag...
At the end of the day, we returned to the center of the village and waited for Gerta to pick us up in this eerie restaurant with walls covered by small notes left by patrons since 1968...
The kids landed in their bed and were gone in seconds that night.






The landscape on our way to the pousada. Isn't this beautiful?
On our last day, we went to the city and spent the morning in the market. The city is a nice escape from Brazilia. It has some street life, some sidewalks and a beach (even if bordered by a highway), so all of this is a plus. We pick up our flight later that day.

Artists at Heart

We are now having a few days off. The French education system believes in giving kids a schedule that allows them to have some down time too. Despite what some might think, nobody appears to be disadvantaged by this.
In Beijing it meant that the kids had two afternoons off every week; here it means their schedule is compressed into a long morning, and consequently free afternoons everyday.  They also have a week or two off every eight weeks,  to prevent or limit stress on them. I am not sure if there is no stress involved for the kids - with changes of routine, parents who are not always able to free themselves for holidays or with friends traveling away - or for the parents who are trying to figure out how to entertain their offsprings. But in any cases, as I am now home alone with them, with Paul gone for on a two weeks intensive language learning, I have even more intention to find interesting activities for my two Energizer-boys.
Last year in Beijing, I had organized some art activity at home and invited a few small friends over. This year, I was fortunate enough to meet the right person at the right time. Deborah, a sweet Brasilian artist, was the perfect person to come in assistance.  I loved her paintings and she has proven to be excellent with kids. Her reputation is preceding her.  No surprise as she was a teacher at this special cool school for a few years until recently.
We had a couple of sessions already, Monday and today. Kids love her and love doing their little work. And me too!
 
Not quite sure which hand yet...

I Can't Sleep Tonight

Today, I just received another note about security in my mailbox. This whole issue will certainly deserve more than one post - it is a real issue here - more than a simple table discussion. So the note goes about telling where to park or not to park around certain well known spots in the city, and the rise of various types of violences. We have been living in a pretty sheltered place, in China. Harmonious society, repressed or suppressed or controlled or brainwashed or simply harmonious, for you to say, but certainly most safe. The contrast is sharp. Here in Brazil at all times security is a consideration. It was hard to know exactly what to expect before we moved here, yet we knew it was going to be drastically different from our asian bliss.

First there are fences and gates everywhere. It makes for a less friendly street, I tell you. Only my friend Fiona has a full "no-gate" situation, but she lives in a "condominium", an large compound of houses surrounded by full walls, topped with barbwire. Even then, Fiona's house is the only one in her street that has not gated herself further. When we were planning our arrival in Brasilia, we met with my husband's colleague and his wife, who lived here for four years. Despite their fences, they got robbed. At gun point. Because they forgot to close that gate. Not very reassuring.
Alarm systems are installed everywhere. I guess that part is nothing new for us, when installed in public spaces. But here it is for different reasons, no more about the control of people, but about the safety of the users, therefore more in the private sphere. Our own security people were here today, installing and adjusting our own alarm system. Furthermore, we have a door upstairs that locks us up at night, so if someone ever comes in at night they would have more trouble getting to us. And in addition, someone will be watching our house when we travel.

Then there is the various legal measures to prevent child kidnappings. On our first hour in Brazil, once out of the plane in Rio's airport, I left the boys go to the toilet on their own. A lady, well intended, told me to never do this again. Never loose sight of your kids. Makes for less pleasant grocery shopping trips with them. Another consequence to this fear of kidnapping is that Brazilian children traveling with one parent need to have a note legalized by a judge allowing them to travel without their other parent. On the same line of thinking, prior hiring of any staff, a security check is needed with the registry of the federal and national polices to ensure no past criminal record or activities.
Then there is the constant treat that comes from moving around the city. Drive with windows rolled up. Do not stop at red lights or stop signs at night. Avoid certain areas of town. The most perilous action we can do is to stay inside a parked car in a parking lot.  Sounds banal, right? Well, that is what a bad guy here awaits for. He would walk to your car, point a gun at you, get in and get you to drive him to the nearest bankomat, and helps you retrieve all your cash. It is called express kidnaping. Pretty sure our banks do not cover for this one - at the opposite of stollen credit cards... In fear of this probability, I have taken out of my wallet some of my credit cards. They are valid, but I really have no idea of their PIN numbers, as I use them mostly for direct purchases and never for any withdrawal. It would be stupid to die because some crazy guy thinks I am playing dumb with my PIN number on a card.
Other consequences to these various security threats, most house staff finishes early to get home before dark, in fear of being attacked on their way home. Specially if they live in poorer areas.
Then there is the risk of fake road accidents, aiming at your car, and forcing you to get out of the car to check things out, and followed by express kidnapping. If an old beaten up car hits you, just drive away.
And there is also the risk of express stealing of car parts - specially if you are owner of VW Gol - a small model that is very popular here, making resale a guarantee. Usually they can do it in about 5 minutes. Take all your wheels. off. Pretty efficient, which is surprising considering the general lack of efficiency here!

That said, all this could sound pretty theoretical. Yet last week, various sources - including friends - informed us that an European Union diplomat was kidnapped and later released. The ordeal happened just a few blocks from where we lived, in Asa Sul. The poor italian guy is fine now, thanks G_d.
A few days later I learned about a trio of young foreigners being assaulted at gun point on the commercial street of quadra 304, just up our block, at the end of an afternoon. I walked there with the kids in a few occasions. It also gave me some shivers.
Upon knowing this I could not shake the feeling that despite all what we pretend is normal life here, lies a real threat, not one just on paper. And that we must be really really careful. Really really careful.
Here is a picture of this evening, upon learning about the EU diplomat. All looked normal, having dinner with new friends, in the quadra 408, near where the event took place. What looked more normal than a few kids having a good time together??  As a Canadian, I really have some difficulty to imagine the worst all the time.  I can't shake the feeling that there is something wrong in trying to foresee evil in each possible encounter. Maybe if you are raised in a gun culture, like our neighbors from the south it is easier? I still need to check.

In any cases, it makes me more nervous here when Paul is traveling. And tonight, while doing my little thing upstairs, all doors open downstairs to catch the breeze, I realized the gate had been left open. I am certain we waited with the car to see it close fully behind us. But then the kids played with my keys and remotes in my bag, while I was cooking, I remembered. My hearth sank. I walked downstairs, half in panic. Would/could there be someone there already? The gate must have been open for 2 hours already. I toured the house. The immediate surroundings of the house. Locked up the kids upstairs while doing that. Everything was there, ready to be taken - my handbag, the TV and new DVD player, the keys, the car. All was still untouched, all fine. But in the process I lost my interest for a solo swim in the night. I am calmer now. All is fine. Our little dead-ended street only has limited traffic with only 4 houses, and us being the one before the last. Yet, I feel I will need to sedate myself with some good old indian chants. Hopefully the night will appease me further.
Note to self: Hide keys and gate remotes from the kids. Tell Noam to pay attention to the gate, and notify me if open. 

Spring is Falling on Us

Here it is "Spring". Well, I am not sure to call it this way, as here in the tropics, it is not really blooming more than usual. So many trees with wonderful colors - reds and pink and purple and yellows and others - flowers. But it is also raining intermittently during this period - showers that are really strong, almost mini storms - and at other times, just soft rain - both beautiful but so different to a spring that I know that it makes me think of some kind of fall. Except that the red in the trees is from their blooming flowers - and the usual crispy leafy carpet on the ground is made of their fallen petals.

New "Friends"

Our first night in the house was memorable for me. Not only for the specific event of sleeping in this super luxurious place that is effectively becoming ours, but it also for the fact that during that night, I came to realize that we would be "sharing" our house.
Indeed, a house in Brazil is mostly open to the elements. Yes it has a roof, windows and doors, but apart from the roof, openings are left open most of the time, as the climate permits. And since the treat of mosquito bites is not so bad (if we compare to Quebec where they are ferociously aggressive, or to Africa where they are deadly), no mosquito screens are installed on any of the openings.
I have always had a real issue with living with no mosquito screens. Every time I visit Tel Aviv, walking through the old neighborhoods, I feel indiscreet peering deep into people's units because of the wide unprotected openings. Upon arriving in Vancouver, despite being the land of no-mosquitos, I felt our apartment was incomplete and vulnerable. In Senegal I added some kind of "curtains" made of light sheer material in front of all doors and windows, in hope to curtail off the least fierce ones. And used a mosquito net to shield myself during my sleep. Same thing in Congo. In Liberia the technique to protect myself was to freeze them to death with AC.
So here in Brasilia my first night in our new house was not entertained by mosquitos - I kept the windows shut. It was rather the intrusion of various funny beetles that made me cringe. A variety of crawling creatures started to walk around my white-tiled bathroom, making me take funny detours to reach our toilet or our sink. It was explained by the bright lights attracting this wildlife, and cracks between windows and frames large enough to allow small elephant critter to pass.
Here is a nice link explaining to you how to make your own "friends" in paper. More friendly.

In any cases, my boys have different experiences and approaches to all this crawling world. Emmanuel does not understand (yet) the scary or disgust factor that comes with encountering them. In fact he was rather upset the other day when I flushed one of his little friend.
I used to be just like him when I was younger, collecting life grasshoppers, ladybugs and mice. I guess one can change. Did it start in Liberia when cockroaches took a stroll in my bathroom? Or when I got this crazy bug spreading acid on my face in Sierra Leone? Or when I got repeat malaria in Congo? 

Noam did not see the same entertainment factor as his brother. Yesterday, while we were eating at a restaurant, the poor kid got stung by a wasp. Yep, just like that. He actually pulled his leg up near me and brushed this random insect on him, bothered by the little legs walking up his own. Both he and I saw it plant its sting in his flesh. A bit traumatic for my poor Noam - already recently traumatized enough. And for the restaurant staff, who tried to appeased my howling child with some ice and kind words. Unlikely. The pharmacy staff was more efficient.

Samba

We promised ourselves, me and Paul, that we would learn samba - or some kind of dancing. Not having yet all the infrastructure (i.e. nanny) we have not really been able to start practicing. In the meantime, in the car we have found Radio Nacionale (listen to it here), which is an awesome station that keeps playing Brazilian oldies, the stuff we all know - the girl from ipanema, among famous ones... 
However, our wonderful language teacher, Cida, took upon herself to get us into the groove. 
Today, upon resuming my portuguese lessons after two weeks of break due to our move), she introduced me to an old song called Conversa de Botequim, written by Vadico, sang by the beautiful voice of Maria Rita. It is the conversation heard in a bar, of a very demanding client. Very funny!

Tavern Talk

Waiter

Please bring me quickly

A good coffee with milk which has not been reheated

Hot bread with butter galore

A napkin

A glass of water nicely chilled

Close the door on my right very carefully

I am not willing to be exposed to the sun

Go ask your customer on this side

What was the outcome of football match

If you keep cleaning the table

I will not get up nor paid the extras

Go ask your boss

A pen, a fountain, an envelope and a something to write

Do not forget to give me toothpicks

And a cigarette to scare away mosquitoes

Go tell your manager

To let me borrow a magazine, a lighter and an ashtray

Dial at least once 344,333

And ask Mr Osorio

To send me here an umbrella from our office

Waiter lend me some money

I left it with my bookie

Go tell your manager

That this expense should be put on my tab there in front. 

Here are the original lyrics and music - sang by Noel Rosa.

Conversa de botequim

Seu garçom

Faça o favor de me trazer depressa

Uma boa média que não seja requentada

Um pão bem quente com manteiga à beça

Um guardanapo

Um copo d'água bem gelada

Feche a porta da direita com muito cuidado

Que eu não estou disposto a ficar exposto ao Sol

Vá perguntar ao seu freguês do lado

Qual foi o resultado do futebol

Se você ficar limpando a mesa

Não me levanto nem pago a despesa

Vá pedir ao seu patrão

Uma caneta, um tinteiro, um envelope e um cartão

Não se esqueça de me dar palitos

E um cigarro pra espantar mosquitos

Vá dizer ao charuteiro

Que me empreste uma revista, um isqueiro e um cinzeiro

Telefone ao menos uma vez

Para 344333

E ordene ao Seu Osório

Que me mande um guarda-chuva aqui pro nosso escritório

Seu garçom me empresta algum dinheiro

Que eu deixei o meu com o bicheiro

Vá dizer ao seu gerente

Que pendure essa despesa no cabide ali em frente.

Flypath

Now there is always a hidden clause when you sign a contract, some small print that will make things complicated. Well our house has one big hidden clause. In fact, it a very not discreet problem: we are on a flypath.
For those who do not know, it means that planes almost land in our neighbor's yard. It means noise. Loud jet noises.
We should have heard it when we visited, right? Well, we did not. We did not even ear anything for the first four days in the house. Then one evening, it was loud and roaring every five or ten minutes. I wondered how I did not hear this before. How did I missed this? Was I enjoying the house so much that I did not hear the planes until four days in??  We did hear some planes when we came to sign the lease - but we were probably too fed up with the rental unit, and too excited by the house features to notice the noise.
So our first Friday night, while trying to watch a movie, and having to pause it every ten minutes, Paul and I could only wonder on how to deal with this - now and for the next three to five years. How to sustain our sanity with such annoying noises? The following day was pretty relax, yet I felt we were a bit robbed of our peace of mind with all these planes going. Lying by the pool under roaring jet noises is not relaxing. Albeit it is not constant, it is not pleasant.
I swear I must have wondered hundreds of time how we could we not have heard something when we first visited?!
Then, on Sunday morning, after one more plane at 6 AM, the first of the day, that was it. There was not really any other loud planes later that day. Of course we could hear planes passing over the next neighborhood, but it was normal plane noise - distant - and at this point I qualified it as pleasant.
So tonight when the planes started to go low again, I did not really get phased up as much. It will be passing. Only temporary. Not all the time. Only when the weather is like this or the wind like that (which I still need to figure out). But I am feeling much better that we are not in a full fledge flypath. Because that would be much more difficult to bear.
And later, when the kids were heading to bed, Noam told me that he did not like the noises, that it was a bit annoying to have this again and again, that maybe we should not have rented the house. I tried to encourage him to see it only occurs for short stretches of time - hoping to make it easier on him. Hopefully it will work.

The Winning Ticket

So we moved in - three days ahead of our initial schedule. It was a day charged in emotions, yet it was also just a great day.
I am so happy. Finished is the sad apartment. A few steps closer to a final installation.
We took only three trips to transfer our things to the house. Then a couple of friends were kind enough to land us a few things to make us more comfortable...
Despite being in a barren house, we are really enjoying it. It feels like if we won the lottery!
There are the features I mentioned earlier: the pizza oven, the integrated BBQ grill, the lap pool, the sauna. Then there are these other things that are just really pleasant. A wonderful lighting at night, making everything look gorgeous. The view of the city, day or night, beautiful. The hidden balcony by our bedroom, with its bench for a quiet read. The countless hooks, inside and around the house, to attach hammocks. The walk-in closet that is more like a room, with more space than I need (and no secrets here, I need space). The his and her's toilets, separated by a small partition. The bidet. The double seater jacuzzi. The seven bathrooms. The grand and heavy wooden front door. The mature garden, with coco palm trees, flowers, vine and fruit trees. And the nice light throughout the day, throughout the house.
Here are a few shots to make you feel at home...