Exploring Brasilia North

There is a lot of blogging that does not get done when I am trying to write something serious. I am currently writing a piece for an Italian magazine, something about Brasilia and transformation. So I open my eyes a little more these days when I drive around.
Today I was in Asa Norte, and somewhat got a better feeling about the city, about the planning and its general intentions. It would be this idea of common areas where people share public equipments and time, I guess. Yet I am still unconvinced by the scale of all this. Parking takes over most of the center of the housing blocs. And that green without really any landscaping ends up looking like a no-mans-land rather than a place.

Another Sushi Night

I have previously posted about the intricacies of being a multicultural family, a multilingual one and of dual religious roots. Often as parents it is difficult to know what is best for our kids, yet it is also possible to use our instinct to determine what are our priorities.
So far in terms of religion, I assumed the awareness of both religions' holidays and traditions would be important for them, so that they can feel at home and comfortable in both world, in both cultures. I have also made the effort to connect them to the judaic traditions, as it they are more complex and certainly less mainstream than the christian ones. I guess I measured my success when around Christmas time, while walking in a mall, Noam asked me why there was a baby lying under a decorated tree. I had obviously some explaining to do to catch up on that other end.
But if these questions arose, it is mainly because Brazil is a very religious country. Faith is present in a large number of churches of all denominations, Christian being the main one. Saints are given holidays and festivals, street and city's names.  In our travels, we have encountered and visited numbers of chapels, churches and altars. And the language includes numerous reference to god.
Despite the importance of Christianity, the Brazilian Jewish history started with the portuguese  inquisition in the 16th century. And Sao Paolo is home to the largest Jewish community in the country. But Brasilia is home to a rather a small one, and the young rabbi and his wife hold the services in their house. For Purim, they had organized the traditional torah reading along with a great sushi buffet. We joined our Israeli friends, who promised us better sushi. In fact, it was not only the food which was good, but the welcome and the ambiance, more relaxed and casual than other communities.

Night Out

Despite having a very amazing babysitting, we are not going out enough. Most of the time, we tour our friends places for more BBQ and social evenings. Not doubt, they are always enjoyable. Consequently, when we drive "to town" for a nice meal just for the two of us, it is quite special. Last night we felt like sushi. (Asia saudade?) And since we could not recall where was the good sushi in town, we landed on a random one. And consequently were disappointed. I mean, sashimi should not try to become ceviche, and cream cheese should stay at the breakfast table.

It is almost unmistakable, our random restaurants trials are usually a fail. If that would be only that, we could keep on trying until success, but the price tags are often Ritziesque. In most cases, the meals are overcooked, meat well overdone, full of creamy sauce, with few overcooked greens. Whether it is a typical Brazilian dish, or a French or an Italian one. Or even a Chinese one. The most practical and safe way to eat out is the buffet by the weight. But for dinner, I can't resolve myself to the cafeteria ambiance. Yeap, call me snob just for that.
It is not only the way the food is prepared that is sad, it is often the lack of imagination in the types of produces used and dishes made. Despite all the goodies this country produces, it is often surprising that people have not developed a more evolved taste buds. Our gardener needs to have his feijao (beans) and rice, she cooks him that daily. Maybe this situation is similar to the Quebecers' in the fifties. It must be just a matter of time to see some evolution. 
For us, our excuse for being "food snob" is this common love of food we share. I am pretty sure my cooking skills helped sealing our deal. Further, for my Israeli husband good food means mezzes and fresh produces and a gazzilions of different traditional ethnic dishes of several origins. For me, it is translated by a family affair with food, where meals are often homegrown, discussed and prepared together. And Beijing was for both of us a smorgasbord of flavors and produces far superior to any other places we lived in before. Chinese food is by far more varied than one could ever imagine. And the vibrant Beijing food scene is home to some of the best tables of Asia. And while we tested some (most) of them, we also loved the little unknown corner stall, where we would discover some amazing specialities.
That said, to be fair, we have discovered a few yummy addresses in Brasilia. I will report, I promise. I guess I just miss the infinite freedom of amazing food choices we had in our Beijing alleys.
For those readers who love typical Brazilian food, I would assume you either have Brazilian blood, or were raised here. And if it is not the case, I am ready to offer you a home cooked meal in lieu of apologies. Just email me.

It is All in the Icing

We are just returning from another birthday party. Again. This one, thrown by an expat mom, was low-key with a nice gathering of select parents and kids (as opposed to the entire class).
The memorable moment was the cake. The bakery forgot to make the poor kid's cake and the parents had to rush over there to collect something. They came back with some superb tier cake, with the theme of jungle animals. Very cute. When the cake was finally cut, the crowd realized that a huge portion, a entire tier of it, was fake. It was styrofoam covered in icing.
It kind of left me thinking: an amazing look, yet so hollow. I hope that this cake is not the metaphor of our brazilian connections.
People are often so unnaturally nice here. They get out of their way to help us. They are always pleasant when you talk to them. They are nice and patients in ways that feel sometimes totally unreal. I mean, in Israel, someone (or many) would loose patience after waiting 30 min in the fast lane at the grocery store because the lady is chatting away. I mean, in Canada, someone would get fired for incompetence.
This cake made me wonder about what is a facade here. We have fences in front of our houses, and secret ones in front of our hearts. Are the fences of the brazilian their niceness? Will I get to know them better? To really meet them? For who they are, without the fluff and the frizz?

Playdates

With the help of online groups, I was able to connect with a group of very interesting women. They have organized weekly get-togethers, where kids play while moms chat away. There is of course a few obligatory expats from the diplomatic corps, but a majority are either foreigner with a Brazilian spouse  or Brazilian with a mix background (dual citizenship,  parents of mixed origins or past expatriation experience). It makes for lively conversations and a fun time. This week it was our turn to host. I pulled the black tarp on our front yard/hill, every time it is a huge hit with the kids.

Where Am I?

Sometimes flashbacks of a previous life assault me. At first glance, not many things would confuse me as whether I am here in Brazil or there in China. Yet at times, the other side of the world winks at me.
For example the other day I walked by a store on the W3 and saw a kitchen tool I needed, so I walked in to buy it: a battery-operated vinaigrette mixer. No comments please. As it was there on the shelf, and I walked in with the intention of spending less than 5 minutes in there, just enough time for the transaction to be validated on my card. Oh! what was I thinking again? A staff had to get a new box downstairs. Then record in one computer what I am buying. And ask me for my CPF and my complete address and all sort of very important details. And then send me over to another cashier, who would find my order in the system, pull it out, and complete the sale and print a few tickets. Then I would need to go back to the first counter, where upon presentation one of these coupons I would retrieve my purchase. Nothing short of 30 minutes.
Although the speed of the cashiers are not comparable, the process was similar in China when making purchases in department stores. Exasperating.

I found a number of other strange similarities with China:
- In a chicken purchased at the grocery store, I found not only its gibbets but also its feet!
- There rice is a staple here. Required by everyone for every meal. Ok, granted, it is not the same type and accompanied by much different fare. But no one would discuss the importance of this grain in these two cultures.
- One other thing that I found striking when comparing those two country-continents was the importance of the "face". We ear often about the Chinese face, and how messages might be conveyed in a rather indirect way, just to avoid de-facing an interlocutor. Surprisingly enough, the Brazilian will also take great lengths to convey their negative message in the less possibly direct way, wanting to preserve their relationships and the person their are dealing with. Like China, Brazil is a country where connections are essential to for many things in life.
- Generally, both Chinese and Brazilian are bad drivers. On this I might post more extensively later.
There has been a number of other "flashes" but for now I will leave you with this.

If I Could Fly

We are just returning from a very interesting exhibition at the CCBB. What an interesting guy. When we lived in Beijing, my students had mentioned this guy who was building the strangest robots, robots that were more like themselves references to art movements: Cai Guo Qiang (蔡国强). His work was installed here in Brasilia. In fact there was several parts to this exhibition. The first one was presenting these funny (and at times spooky) rough-looking animated robots; painting, pulling a rickshaw, playing chess, barking, walking around, spitting water. Emmanuel did not really like this hooded one, which admittedly had the feel of some kind of horror movie when walking rigidly towards him. The staff was having a kick at following small kids around with its tele-guided puppet. Thankfully my son did not have nightmares.

A large room was dedicated to CGQ's "paintings" with gunpowder. As a child who witness the Cultural Revolution, CGQ grew up in a setting where both fireworks and cannon blasts were common. This work is certainly a way to channel those memories. The artist had initially laid large canvasses in the outdoor covered space in the garden, where some tiered stands were installed for the public to witness the performance. Under the canvasses, with specific care, he would lay down certain quantities of gunpowder in specific patterns, and eventually set it in fire that he and a number of his assistant would put out. The walls of this room where we watch a video of this where covered with the results of his experiment.

The last portion of the exhibition was CGQ's curated collection of flying and floating machines and devices made by various unknown peasants in rural China. All this handmade machines presented there at one point flew or floated, which is pretty amazing when you start thinking about it. I really like the story of this one machine who was saved by CGQ and some villagers, as the wife of the constructor was furiously destroying the machine to burn it, upset that her husband wasting all their small income on the construction of devices such as this one.

A Walk Down Under

With so many miles on a dirt road, combined with no internet and cell phone coverage, gave us the appropriate level of remoteness. The main road in front of the possada had for any traffic a rare beaten-up car, a pick-up filled with people or materials, or a few horses lead by a cowboy. This is deep into Gaucho country. A few times each day an old school bus would pass by us, bobbing and hopping away on the road to the nearby county school. A confirmation that kids here go to school. Yet how much time would these poor guys spend shaken in this tin can?
With an official mommy ban on all electronic screen, the kids - big and small - had to find new entertainment types. Our little carry-on suitcase filled small games, toy cars and a soccer ball did it. The hammocks and other found objects did a good job too.

Every night we sat around a bonfire. In the morning we ate a wonderful selection of the best homemade cakes and cookies, to the delight of our palates. Later we would take off to visit one cave or another. Because that is why we came all the way here in Terra Ronca.
When we arrived we encountered along the road some strange mountain formation, something similar to what is found in the dolomites. I regretted not having any climbing partner in our group. These formations are in fact over the entrances of these deep sets of galeries. In the area, there are more than 200 of them. With our youngest crew member, only 2 were available for our exploration without danger. Despite our limited exploration, it was very impressive.
It was not crowded, to say the lease. It was not so much due to the fact that we were the only tourists, but also to the shear size of these holes. I mean, you could built a 5 or 6 story high building in them! The mouth of the cave makes 96 m high and 120 m wide, just to give you a bit of an idea.
The cave itself has been formed by a river running into its dept. Inside, the formations are quite large, and so is the main room at the entrance. A small altar was raised near it, with the locals still coming to pray some saint at specific times of the year.

I have to say I am not really a fan of humid dark underground places. But in a way, these galleries were so vast and so high that the feeling of oppression that one could imagine while picturing oneself in there did not occur. But again we visited the easy stuff. My little one did not really like the portion of the adventure where we experimented without the flashlights. It is really dark in there. I mean, darker than you can imagine.
In any cases, the rest of our days would be also spend in one of the many cachueras (waterfallls) found around the area. So far, from our explorations, it seems that they are so numerous that you can be on your own in most of them... Isn't there an add from Brazil Tourism that present a bunch of skimpy bikini clad women bathing under a waterfall somewhere on TV?

 

O Jeitinho

There are some encounters that are just life-changing and profound. Martinho Da Villa is one of those.
We found him in the middle of nowhere, in a truckers' cafeteria, hidden in a discounted rack. For 5 Reais, we took a chance. And since our life has been changed. From the moment we found him, he started to share our lives, first his voice filling our car, then in the morning at breakfast, over the weekend by the pool, or during evenings among friends. His joie de vivre and the sound of his voice makes us groove and bob our heads, change our moods and make our days. His songs are Brazil like it is, devagar and yet a jeitinho that helps you through the line ups. With more than 30 albums under his belt, he is one of these oldies, a classic of the Brazilian samba, a voice and lyrics everyone knows. I just love him dearly.

Roaring Earth

We left Rio and the Carnival while the fiesta was still going strong, flood lights blaring into the night, samba music pounding, cariocas dancing and performers boasting around. We landed a few hours later, with a strange feeling of emerging for a strange dream, our eyes dazzled by the bright morning sun, our dizzy heads still filled with the rhythms and the exhilaration of the night.
After a few required hours of sleep, I started packing everyone for our next adventure. Destination: Terra Ronca, in the Goias.
The next morning we left with our friends at the early morning hours. We drove about 300 km on a national highway:  a two-way single lane road mostly populated with heavily loaded trucks and interrupted with speed bumps at every village encountered, slowing our journey considerably. Making our way into out-of-coverage areas. At some point we turned onto a dirt road and headed further inland.

The conditions of the dusty road slowly degraded until we started progressing at walking speed. Earlier on the way, we had stopped in a trucker restaurant and purchased a CD of Martinho Da Villa, a famous samba singer and his music carried us through the pot holes and the bumps. The landscape was wonderful, both wild and tame, passing from forested areas to fields and pastures. We passed small groupings of a few houses, distanced by a field or two, away from the "main" road. Amazingly remote, yet all connected to the power line. I wondered how their kids could go to school.
Our journey culminated in an empty possada near a very sparse village, with a beaten up road cutting a few houses apart from one another. The road itself, at the center of the village, was so wide, so damaged, with pot holes so deep that it no longer looked like a road, but more like a dry bed river. And the houses along it looked lost, as if they had been separated at birth by a flood or something similarly dramatic.
Despite eight long hours our kids proved to be wonderful little travelers, in a good mood, relaxed and happy to travel. A few minutes after our arrival,  a good meal and a bonfire helped us forget the kilometers.

Sambodromo

I have to confess, this is the most amazing thing I have ever seen! It is seriously out of this world: The costumes! The floats! The music! The crowd! The whole ambiance!
We were initially nervous, wondering how easy it would be to get there, how crowded, how messy it would be to access our seating area. Imagine We rapidly ailed a cab from Copa (maybe our very minimal attire helped), we got to the Sambodromo area without any problems, traffic jam or incident, and were dropped off right at the gate of the stadium. No hassle. No crowd. No mess... It was easy.
As a friend noticed, it was a very well-oiled machine.
We arrived around 9h20, but there it was already started - they were on time!!! We found our little box easily. We had initially discussed a long time about what ticket to buy, and we agreed that for a few more reais, it was maybe worth it to get "frisa" tickets, were we have open air marked seats, in groups of 6, low, near the whole parade, along the samba runaway. As opposed to tickets in the grandstands, where it is first there first served. We could not really imagine how crowded it would be or how difficult for one to hold a seat if in the bathroom. So we dished out the reais and secured ourselves the best seats we could (of course there were the camarotes, those private boxes just above us, but simply out of our budget). And of course those in the VIP area, right next to us, whom were given free flow of champagne and beer.  But I am sure they paid for it upfront, and we literally shared the same view. (here for more technical explanations about how it works in the stadium). Except that watching them, after a few hours of free-flow-boozing, was a great show too.
So when we arrived, the first (of six) samba school was already parading and we felt a hugs wave of happiness and craziness fill us right away. I mean, it is a huge amount of people. Parading. And cheering. With an amazingly happy music. It is a exuberant défilé.
And the Sambodromo is not a regular stadium. Surprise surprise, it is another of Neimeyer's project. In fact it is a very long track (formerly a street) with two very high stands of seats on either way, filled all the way up with a cheering crowd, and illuminated with very strong flood lights. The stretch out length of this outdoor space makes it interestingly odd - it is impossible to meet someone who stands opposite to you, unless you are ready to go out again in the streets of Rio, and walk all around the stadium itself. We were never able to meet our friend E! And it would take 30 minutes, from our seat, for the first dancer of each school to reach us, counting from the moment they left the extremity of the stadium.
The show is in fact a number of samba schools who parade in turns. Each school is composed of a huge number of people, dressed up in groups of hundreds (yes, you are reading well), with variations on a theme. Within each school, you have a drum band and signers, signing in loop their song, usually very catchy. I found myself looking for the lyrics and singing along with the whole stadium. It was fantastic. Each school also has a number of floats, more incredible one from another. The school I preferred, Mangeira, ended up being disqualified because one of their float, with a little floating butterfly, could not manage its way under an arch at the end of the runway. It was a dramatic disqualification, their song and their people were so amazingly fluffy, colorful and joyous!
Indeed there are quite strict rules for each school to follow, a number of people must be in the bateria (band), the various groups of dancers must all complete the entire length of the sambodromo within the required time (more or less 90 minutes) - and while it appears to be plenty of time for a whole school to walk a decent length of 700 m. With several hundreds of people, a few extra large floats and several people playing music, I have not seen one person walking slowly. Rather at times, the dancers looked more hurried (as we were more towards the end) to make sure to complete the walk on time.
Between each school there was a pause of a few minutes, allowing the floats and dancers to line up and prepare themselves. Adds on billboards would be changed before the entry of each school to show their sponsors, with a crew quickly pealing away one add replacing it with the new school's sponsor.
We ended up leaving at 5 AM to go back to the airport to catch our 7AM flight, while the show was still going strong. We missed completely the last samba school - it was only started to walk when we left. I could not have imagined that! We were sure when we booked our flights that all would be fine, that we would have time for everything!
Our walk out of the stadium, while the music was still loud and the crowd cheering, gave it a most eery feeling. We past groups of people sitting on the sidewalk on plastic chairs, in front of large TV, watching the same carnival we did a minute earlier. We saw groups of people celebrating in the middle of some small alleys on the side. We passed a number of floats, dark and unlit, parked along the street after a completed journey, with their drivers lying on the asphalt under them, exhausted by such an intense procession.
And we reach a row of cab, waiting for the hundreds of clients who would follow us an hour or half later. The hardest was to stay awake until we were boarded.
What an amazing night!

A little glance at the crowd.
Here is a collection of images, taken by my friend Fiona Murphy.

My Own Rio

So for many of us, Brazil is synonym with Carnival. So, with our first Brazilian season approaching, I just assumed we would go. But for different reasons, my overworked husband could not make it to the Carnival. Maybe next year. In spite of this, I threw the idea around with some girlfriends - why not go together, just for a night, and catch a glimpse of the craze?!

And before we could think of it, we were there, me and the two Fionas, ready to Samba!
We first walked around Ipanema, posing with a sandcastle architect, buying jewelries from a native, drinking refreshing capeirinhas, people watching, chatting away. When I spotted a lady selling these sparkly sequined sets, hand made, sold on a blanket on the sidewalk, I just encouraged the three of us to "adapt" to the local customs (or is it costume?)! Specially after seeing a number of body types not necessarily benefiting to be exposed as they were (this city is well known for the lack of modesty of its inhabitants on its beaches and sidewalks), our own boldness did not really put our decency at stake!! So here we go, Rio, we are going to the Carnival!

The Street Carnival in Brasilia

Finally the Carnival has arrived! Brasilia's street are getting filled up, the neighborhoods are organizing their own festivities. We took the kids and went to see a parade on the W3, with large speakers and lots of fuzzy hairy dancing people. We went to a couple of quadras; a first one with a girl's drummer band, very powerful and exciting. The other one was more a kids friendly hood, with lots of confetti and color spray thrown around. The mayhem is good, the vibe is happy, people are laughing and chatting, it is really an excuse to make noise, dance in public, drink a bit and just celebrate.

Getting ready for Carnival

In Brazil, Carnival is culturally the most important week of the year. Its festivities last over a week, despite being officially 2 calendar days of holiday. During that period the country functions at low regime for the entire week. Devagar! Deliveries, odd jobs, services, nothing is really moving. Further, the Carnival folly is in the air much earlier, with many pre-carnaval parties here and there.
Our kids were not immune, with a little parade around the school. And we had our own pre-festival party, at the Iate Clube (pronounce Yatchee clubee). Paul was happy, as you can tell.

Samba for the People

Carnival is about music, it is about the samba. Thanks to a cool Belgian friend, we ended up in this very cool, unassuming local, where live samba music is played. People dance between the tables, the ambiance is festive, relax, so "brazil". This is the Brazil I was dreaming of. It feels more real than so many other places and other things I have visited here in Brasilia. Quadra 714 Asa Norte. Tartaruga. Only on Saturday nights, between 5 and 10. Then the neighbors need to go to bed.
We brought back more friends last night. A discovery like this need to be shared!