Back to the Hospital

We needed to a follow up appointment for Emmanuel with his Scarlatina. Conveniently enough Noam woke up that morning with a pretty bad sore throat, so he hopped on for a ride to the hospital with us. The good thing is that with one paid visit, you get a follow up appointment. The sad thing is that it needs to be back at the ER, with exactly the same doctor. It meant that we had to wait until he showed up, about one hour and half. Keeping the positive in mind, that is less than a regular doctor office in my hometown in Québec.
Noam was diagnosed with tonsillitis, which is in fact a pre-scarlatina stage. I learn everyday here.
I also paid up for his visit, for a total of 72 reais (US$ 35) for his consultation. This is a private hospital. The hospital is clean, it seems to have a "system that works", as I was always able to retrieve the documents I needed following each visit, and that payments easy to manage (unlike in China) and deliveries of Xrays are done on time. Now in terms of equipment, what they used for my foot's Xray was directly from the 1980s, and some of the testing was "slow" (they did not do it right the first time). But well, assuming that nothing is rare or grave, we are getting a pretty decent service.
For any expat community, medical care is always a big issue, along with education. It was the main reason we left Africa when I was pregnant, and it was a heavy topic of discussion while we were in Beijing. Maybe it is not as much discussed here, as the community is smaller. While the proportion of horror stories is probably similar, I assume we probably have less exposure to them (limited number of people on english speaking forums, no local english language magazines or websites). But the health care system is a factor of inquietude for many new comers, and a reason for the departure of some, for example in case of serious accident or disease.
In any cases, I just returned home and put my two boys back in their PJ. We went back to our couch therapy - the one where you just lie down with a blanket and a doudou and your brother and your mommy. It is the best to get better...

Counting our Blessings

When I got here, it was really difficult for me to adapt. There is no doubt that many things are still challenging. I am not going to list them here, it is not my point. Rather I just paused this weekend, while we hosting a few of our friends, and realized that we are blessed in so many ways here.
We have this beautiful weather, most of the year. It is sunny and warm.
Nature here is just stunning. And pristine. And there is no absolutely no pollution like we had in Beijing.
We made so many good friends, so many good people are surrounding us now. So many interesting and special individuals.
And we are very blessed to have landed in the house we have now. 

To Keep the Blessing Coming In

Today I found myself rummaging into a small box of "things",  the type of box holding a number of random objects, of collected objects and treasures from the past, of pieces of our common history so random that it is almost impossible to organize them in a way or another, yet often not glorious enough to display. While giving the box an ultimate look before pushing it deeper into our storage room I found a mezuzah with its scroll, along with an old horseshoe. This modern and elegant brass mezuzah is the design of our friend Yaly, who is an Israeli jewelry maker and artisan.
The horseshoe is also a unique find. I discovered it in the grass, next to an the abandoned ruin of a hotel, in Trois-Pistoles. It was the summer prior to the final year of my architectural school degree, while I was exploring the area for a potential "site" for my thesis project.  While the decayed stone structure generated a number of dark legends in the region, finding the horseshoe was like finding a talisman, as if it provided me with light and luck to complete brilliantly my studies. (at least this is how it felt at the time!).
In any cases, both the horseshoe and the mezuzah deserve a better place than this old cardboard box. I pulled out my hammer and proceeded to install them on our front door. If in both tradition - jewish and western - hanging these objects might protect a house or bring it peace, I have no problem juxtaposing them here in ours. Double luck. The Chinese also have a symbol like that, they call it Double Happiness. I guess in the end we are all just the same,.

Coloring our Present

Expat wife lives is often colored by their daily coffees, tennis lessons and house decorations, right? I guess I fit the bill...

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.

New Arrivals

When moving to a new place, we can shed our uncomfortable stranger's coat more quickly with the help of a few new friends.  In fact, finding friends is maybe the most important thing when moving. Much more difficult than finding my way to the supermarket.  I have the impression I already mentioned this before (here here and there).
In any cases, there is this family that has been preparing his relocation for a few months, making a pre-assignement trip with his wife in november, dropping suitcases along the way, finding a house, choosing a school, getting a visual on what it is to live here. In other words, this family is arriving here much more prepared than us - not only mentally, but logistically and linguistically. I am envious. Furthermore, a couple weeks ago, on their first week, a greeting crew" was generously organized by a colleague's spouse, emailing a bunch of us to meet the newcomer.  How wonderful. It touched me again, thinking how much such small gathering can make a immense difference in the adjustment process.
So in the matter of one morning, this lovely new lady got to meet a bunch of other lovely ladies, and get a full briefing on the situation here. All this while our kids met each other and screamed their head off played. And this while we binged on coffee and cakes.
Our conversations quickly geared from light to introspective, from serious to desperate: "what do you do? what kind of work can be found here? what kind of work permit can we get?" Answers are candid, desperate or frustrated. But one of us summed it all: either make a baby, work from home or go golfing/horse ridding/kyte surfing.
A few weeks later, it is all business as usual, with the integration process running its course: the newcomer  invites us all to celebrate her son's birthday. Cake, pool, furniture breaking, kids screaming wildly. All back to normal, no need anymore to talk about what we expat wives cannot do here.
Have a bit more cake, dear.

Expat World

Some destinations have rich and active expatriate circles, where it is usually easy to befriend other foreigners. In several African countries, the chore of the foreigners are linked to the aid business. In places like China, Japan and Korea, a number of foreigners come to find opportunities they could not access back home. Many entrepreneurs are taking their marks in these hyperactives environments. In other cases, the love of the culture brings some to deeply immerse themselves, sometimes as Peace Corps or volunteers, sometimes as foreign language students, sometimes as young interns in local businesses. The nature of Brasilia itself, a new capital constructed inland, away from other Brazilian economic centers, brings very little international businesses, and a rather limited number of diplomats.

In some destinations, diplomats and expatriates organized themselves. Sharing issues linked to linguistic, cultural, even economical barriers can often create a first bond. In Beijing, there was Pékin Accueil, a 300+ group of francophones (mostly French) meeting monthly and organizing a huge number of activities covering a wide range of tastes. Here there is Brasilia Connection. Yet the demographics are different, with more diplomats wives, of a different age group. Yet between Pékin Accueil and Brasilia Connection there is a common shared interested in doing volunteering, in returning some of our own luck and affluence to the poorest and neediest.

This week there was a meeting. Previously at other meetings there were guest speakers. This time it was not the case, and as I arrived late to the gathering, I found the group brainstorming on how to help new comers get integrated in Brasilia, and on how to introduce them to the city. How appropriate for me. I was in awe listening to the listing of all the good things Brasilia has to offer: Good weather all year round. Easy access to cultural events of international standards. Ease to move around the city. Access to interesting natural sanctuaries around the city. Brazilian love of families and children. The list was much longer, and I should have written it down for future references. It was a good exercise to put some of my own difficulties into perspective. 

Celebrating with Friends

From experience, all international "transplantation" forces one to find his or her marks. And depending on the destination, it can be more or less easy to do. Making friends is a essential part of the process of settling in. In several instances there is the "visual difference", the possibility to be easily spotted among a crowd, helping locating potential friends. Among a crowd, an eye contact with another foreigner among a crowd opens the possibility of a non-verbal exchange of sympathy (for being in the middle of this pushy crowd, or for being watched, or for having the guts to come out of the typical tourist destinations, for example). However, as Brazilians are so mixed genetically, being caucasians or not no longer stands out in a crowd. Of course, my personal status of foreigner gets immediately noticed when people hear me discuss with my children in a language other than Portuguese. Other "Friend making techniques" are required here in Brasilia.
In Beijing, going down to the playground was a guarantied fast way to find potential friends. Kids playing with kids, moms chatting among each other. But here, in the plano piloto, near the city center of Brasilia, where we first moved in, the playground structures are old, ill-maintained and under-used, therefore not really a "source" for potential friends. And in Lago Sul where we live now, there are no playgrounds easily accessible from our house. Beyond the fact that they are not well maintained and exposed to the burning sun.
So one easy way to meet people is at the school, dropping and picking up the kids. And of course, at birthday parties, as parents are expected to attend.  Slowly but surely I was able to meet interesting friends this way. And here as the circles of expats is to the scale of the city, a friend's friend quickly becomes yours too. And here the expat life gets interesting at night.
So when a friend invited us to celebrate her husband's new forty, in a dressed-up surprise evening, we happily joined, imagining to be a few select to be invited. Here are is a glimpse of our fun evening, where in fact about everyone we knew was!

(Desperate) Housewifes Club

I receive an email in my inbox that left me wondering what to do. It was an invitation to a make-up class along with some other friends.

Do I need make up that bad? I am not someone who put a lot of make-up, but I have to admit that here most Brazilian girls take more attention to their image than me. Should I make an effort to integrate better??

Furthermore, am I the type of girl that does this kind of activities? Should I not be writing some more intelligent things instead? Am I the kind of expat wife that does not know what to do with my time? Usually I have always been able to occupy myself with very interesting activities - whether it is yoga, writing, volunteering, and work as well. Here, so far I have been busy with out installation, and with the kids. To be an expat wife often means leaving behind work, and spend time reasjusting to a new environment. In Brasilia because of the administrative nature of the city, it is often more difficult to find a job that corresponds to one's skills and competences. I am not yet hopeless, but I can see that the process will be a tedious one. I was just reading about this here. For my friends abroad, living in Brazil sounds like a superb experience - and I am sure it will be - but the settling in is a tedious process. And some women, after several relocations, simply give up on finding for themselves something meaningful to do other than caring for their loved ones. The process is lengthly and discouraging at times, and the sheer prospect of a departure leaves one to wonder the validity of such efforts. So like many, should I contemplate finding myself activities to entertain myself and stop worrying about it all? Yet so new here, I cannot pretend that this decision should be taken now. Should I allow myself to pamper myself a bit? And to have a good time with my girlfriends? I gave-in, and tagged along. 

And it was fun. I had to leave before the end of the session to pick up the kids in school, and despite feeling sick that morning, the result on my face was very impressive: I looked healthy! Ah!

Carol, our teacher, is one of these young very maked-up girl. Later we learned that she is in fact our age, looking 10 years younger than her age. Like what, it works. 

Warming It Up

I have given our installation process a huge push. I spent the last two weeks running errants right and left to try to get things in place, spending hours in lines at cashiers, driving miles to reach to the place that has the right hook/tool/gizmo for the job. I am so ready move on to a new phase of my life not related to this installation. This process has been taking much time, so much longer than I had anticipated. In fact the process of our installation, if we take it from the moment we learned we were arriving in Brazil, in July 1st, to today, has been painfully long. And today with only a few weeks away from Christmas, despite my efforts, I have the feeling some things will not be fully settled until we are returning from our holidays.
Deep breathing. 
Since the day the movers left our house, I spent time moving things around and trying to fit them in "their" place. I am the type of person who feels at ease in order, light, clean spaces; I feel it helps my head clears up. I fact I have memories of myself playing at ordering the play kitchen of the kindergarden. Maybe it was a sign of my own destiny?! In any cases, with this existential nesting angst as a motivator, I feel good in action, doing the actual organizing, the process helping me anchoring myself in this new place. Despite the miles and the lines, I have been enjoying the process of making a house our home.
To add juice and speed to my organizing schedule, I thought of inviting a few friends over on Friday. I got carried away and ended up with a list of 25 guests. And I figured that good things should not be celebrated alone, and purchased a cake to celebrate Paul's new 35.
In the morning, I invested my kitchen to the dismay of my staff (Brazilian ladies don't cook here, only their maids) and started making dips and salads and meat skewers with asian and mediterranean flavors. The excitement carried me away to what was a full table later in the evening, to the pleasure of my guests. And I spent the afternoon still drilling holes and hanging pictures.
In the end, it was such a lovely evening! I was glad to have made friends with so many interesting people so easily! And I was happy to hear the conversations and feel the happiness flow. Our place was all warmed up by the music, the conversations and the warm lights just installed. My heart was filled with gratitude, and how appropriately! What best for us to celebrate our arrival in the city than to do it around friends, and moreover during Thanksgiving season?! And in some strange ways, despite (or maybe because of) the effort needed, I felt relieved. Like if having friends around was a way for me to close the chapter of "installation" and moving in to the chapter of "living" in this new place.
Cheers to that my friends, and happy birthday to my love!
(Sorry I was holding the cake so I could not take a picture of it, neither of the surprised face of my darling!!)

Everything Will Find Its Place

Things are moving slowly into place. After three full days of unpacking and mounting furniture and putting things in a pile, the movers left. I kind of missed them right away! They were so kind at moving heavy stuff around! Now this is on me to organize and place, and eventually make this place feel like our home. So as slow as it might feel for me - the hyperactive type A - as good as it feels at the end of each day to see that some things have shifted, and that slowly we are finding our own homey version of the perfect Brasilian feng shui. (We can't leave China quite fully yet).
Of course it involves some trips to the store, and some discussions among ourselves on where and how to organize things. And more trips to the store, and more discussions. There are still many things to be organized (and that you can't see in these pictures). Books and books and books and office papers and files and papers. The least fun part. And our bathroom. And my closet. Well, I guess most of the upstairs.
Meantime, here is the state of things.

Delivery!!!

After five long months of living our of our suitcases, our stuff finally arrived Monday! It came in the same container it left China, all bunked and rusted, specially after sitting 2 months in Tianjin, because of a simple paper missing, the famous CPF.
I was so skeptical that I refused to move our mattress until the truck would arrive. I was sure it would be postpone, like so many other things were, since we arrived here.

So in any cases, it took three guys two days to unload things and mount the dismantled furniture. Like usual, some of our stuff got damaged. Nothing as serious as when we arrived to DC from Liberia (there was for about 20$K of damages then, plus a family of cockroaches shipped directly from Africa). I have not gotten used to this yet, finding some of my precious things damaged. And wondering again on how is it possible for our italian couch to loose a leg. 

In any cases, it is amazing to see the house getting filled with stuff. At first it is only boxes and then slowly things get unpack and furniture starts to appear. What was for so long an empty space starts to have a new life of its own, once a sofa or a table is placed in it.
Overall, it is a very exciting moment for us. I can finally see that are settling process is getting to an end. Well I guess not until all is unpacked, organized and installed.
So let me go now, I have yet to do more!!!

The container just pulled up in front of our yard. 

Some people are really happy.

The state of the living room after 24 hours.

Just books.

It takes a truck to clear the empty boxes.

The state of the living room after 48 hours. 

Expat Blues

I have the expat blues. I am not feeling settled. It has been months now that we are "settling in". Since the month of June, we have been "moving", first preparing the move and all sorts of related logistical issues, then moving around places and countries for a couple months, then landing here, finding a place, waiting for the place, then waiting for our stuff (which is supposed to arrive tomorrow, by the way). But after 5 months of "nomadism" and despite almost 3 of them here in Brasilia, I am not feeling settled at all. And it is starting to bother me seriously.

In fact, I feel I should know better. I have moved houses and countries now more than anyone I know. From my hometown to cool and fun Montreal. In a village in India, probably the most intense culture shock ever. In Vancouver, same country but different mentality and weather. In the warm and happy Toulouse, in the South of France. In Lausanne, pretty and quiet. In slow Ziguinchor, in the lush Casamance, the southern-most province of Senegal. Back in Montreal, welcome back reverse culture shock. In Brazzaville, recovering from the war, yet troubled. In Liberia, discovering the peacekeeping world and sub-culture and learning surfing on my free times. In Washington, back to civilization, yet a stranger in the American culture. A year later, in Beijing, digging deep in this millennial culture. And now Brasilia.

All my experiences have come with an intensity of their own, with questioning and soul-searching, and at one point or another, with resistances from my part to "be part" of the new culture. In almost all cases, there were struggles not only with a new language or new expressions, but also with new ways of dealing with problems, and new ways of thinking. And of course in some cases, it came with the impression to be a bit of a circus animal for the local who watched me bemused. At times, I had the impression that I had to mourn something inside myself, some part of me, or maybe some beliefs before being able to enjoy my new "home". But in all cases, in various degrees, I was able to settle, immerse myself in my new place, and enjoy it. 

This time is no different. Same struggles on different grounds. The language. The orientation in a new culture. The new settings. Figuring out what are the "special rules" of Brazil, whether it is socially or on the road. Meeting new people, making new friends. Searching for the good addresses, scoping stores searching for the right ingredients or the rights produces. Determining the value of things. Finding differences. Looking for similarities. 

Yet this time this move is different. Settling in with two kids is not the same. The freedom to explore rapidly this new city is limited. The choices are more complex, more involved. The kids requirements - food, play, school, bathtime, bedtime - make for a schedule that is more regimented, taking our days on a rhythm leaving less room for impulsive explorations and unexpected discoveries. But in fact, it is this coupled with my difficulty to find a nanny/household help that leaves me stranded with very limited time for anything other than the mere "mundane". In fact this has been one of the most important factor infringing my quest of "making my own place" here. 

But beyond this, it is Brasilia, the city itself, and its structure that has also been, in a very unexpected way, a factor of "pain". I am using the word loosely here, but in fact I refer to the frustrations resulting from how this city forces us to do or not to do certain things. The hyper-segregation of everything in sectors  (commercial, medical, education, housing, recreation, all in their respective corners of the city), the distances involved daily, the risks related to security issues, the lack of physical center to the city, its awkward line of commercial buildings in some places, and the lack of a physical street front almost anywhere else, the impossibility to walk around. All these elements have contributed to my incapacity (yet) of "falling in love with the place". Of course this compounded by the difficulty to get things done quickly and efficiently adds up to my frustration. But that should be the subject of another post later!

So so so. So what to do? Earlier in September, feeling a wave of frustration, I dropped everything for a day - language classes and errands - and baked. The result was good, for the soul and for the tummy. For those who know me, I never bake (I usually limit myself to cooking meals). Later, I escaped with my newly made friends to do some yoga for the weekend. At times I go to playdates with new friends (and enjoy some time with new mommy friends while kids are playing) or drop everything to join an special event. But I know now I need to find the perl to replace our beloved ayi so that I can start having a bit of time to make my soul feel at home here. 

A banana-cake tatin, made with the instructions of Ricardo, the famous Quebec Chef.
Despite all of this, all hopes are not vanished yet. I am still hopeful to settle happily. When it comes to  expat blues, there is an abundant literature. This resonated for me: "When you live abroad, you realize that, no matter where you are, you will always be an-expat. (Read more at here). So indeed, and consequently, as an expat, I was forced to grown adaptive tools and mechanisms. These make me much faster at ease in a new, unknown or difficult environment. And knowing this, deep down, leaves me with no panic. I will learn to love to be here, I will learn to extract the best out of this place. It is the slowness of the process that drives me in sane. As the Brazilians say: "Devagar". Slowly.
I need to meditate a little more on that. 

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. 

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. 

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...

About to Moving In. Maybe Not?

We are about to move in. Tomorrow. And today is the day where we do the official walk-through. There is a person that has been hired to do a list of the condition (or state) of all things, so that when we are moving out, we can check against that list if everything was left in order. Yesterday night, the lawyers came back to us. It took them a month to find out about some elements are missing to complete a proper lease registration. In fact, there are three issues preventing for the proper completing of all registration procedures, the two first being simple: officially the house is registered as a co-property of the owner and his wife, although she is deceased; and a paper is missing to show that all taxes have been cleared by the owner.  However the last but not least, the house is not found in the cadaster registration or Registro de Imoveis. Well, think about this. In other words, the house is not registered. The house does not exist legally... This is a real problem of land or property rights. Oops! Big oopsy.
I am not sure why it took one month for the notaries and lawyers to find this out. And why we are told the day prior to our move.  We are not sure also on how this could be corrected - administrative procedures here are complicated, and to say the least, lengthy. The lack of proper registration might be due to various reasons. The "correction" of the elements pointed out by the lawyers would allow us the register the lease, ensuring a proper protecting in case of legal need - for example if the owner sells. Not completing the registration procedures could mean that a new owner could quick us out, among other things.
Should we take the risks? we asked. We took a moment to reflect, and asked around for some opinions. Is the risk big, if there are no registration of a building? Maybe not so much - who would buy a building without the proper registration papers anyway. And we (more specifically me) really wanted to get out of our rental place. In the end, we touched wood, and chose to take the assumption that all would be fine, that the owner was a trustworthy guy. He did appear to be this way. Knock knock.
So today, I went anyway to do the walk-thought. The owner and his girl-friend were there. The house was standing empty, waiting impatiently to have us moving in. It was beautifully ready for us.
I was very nervous. I had to break the news, explain at best what the lawyers found, detail what was missing to the owner. Of course the lawyers would fill the blanks. Yet it felt like I was the jolly messenger coming to kill the party.
So despite my clear statements to the owner about our intention to trust that he would do all the necessary paperwork, despite being there for the transfer of the keys, the owner did not understand me at all.  His face went white. He jaw dropped open. Then tightened. He just understood the property issue - he saw the wall of bureaucracy in front of him. He probably was angry to have made all this effort transferring his things and moving. I had to explain at least four times.  His girlfriend, who understood well english, could translate. Yes, we would do this in good faith. We would trust that he does all the necessary paperwork to register the lease, in order to enable him - and us - with a better and more complete legal protection. It was probably so unlikely that he could understand my english.
We then did the walk-through. Here are some photos.