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| After a long wait, here we are, ready for 2014! Happy New Year to you! |
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Friday, May 31, 2013
New Roads
Always trying to limit the kilometers, I have been trying to use different roads, to test their efficiency. I feel strangely over-excited by small discoveries like the ones I just made. It feels like beating Brasilia at its own game!
A few weeks ago I found this backroad that makes it much faster to get to the airport. It must cut off 5 or 6 km to the entire trip. This road cuts through what is called the chacaras, which were initially properties with a agrarian use. Today these properties are mostly large estates with comfortable mansions, just like anywhere else in the plush suburb of Lago Sul. The beauty of this road is not only its landscape but also the fact that there is no photo radar. Don't get me wrong, I am not a real speeder. But any distractions are so costly that I prefer taking the back road.
A more important discovery was this "highway" to the JK bridge, all the way from the W3 South to the bridge, uninterrupted by retornos (U-turns) or round-abouts. It is called Via das Ligação Se/Ne, the SE/NE Connecting Avenue. Why am I so excited by this find? It is because if moving North-South in this city can be in a very short time and in a very direct way using the large Exio, moving East-West. But crossing the "wing" of the plane of Brasilia, through the quadras (clusters of housing blocks) is frankly speaking a pain. Moving East-West was obviously not a concerned for the planners, imagining that weaving through the quadras would flow easily, but the effort of reaching the W3 from the bridges and Lago Sul is greater than coming from completely the opposite direction (Asa Norte).
In other words, without the Ligação, the West-East travel necessitates to needle in and out of the quadras through their commercial streets. Commercial streets which are already congested by the lack of parking space and the number of enthusiast double-line parkers. And since the quadras are not aligned with one another, but arranged in staggered lots one from another, one has to flow along around a round-about to the next connecting street to the following round-about to the next quadra's commercial street to a set of three dips under the massive Eixo and its side Eixãos through the next commercial and around the next round about to the next connecting street to the next round about to the next commercial street until you reach the W3. Dizzy?
A portion of the Ligação is fairly new, so new that Google Maps did not get it right yet (yes I doctored the maps to show you where I drive). But the good news is some planners have accepted to cut through the "picture perfect plan of Brasilia" to make something essential and efficient, probably amidst some purist opposition.
Via the quadras, the Garça Bridge and along Dom Bosco road: 18,4 km.
Via the W3, the Via de Ligação, the JK Bridge and a bit along the Dom Bosco: 17,2 km - going straight.
We are talking about a km of difference, which is in itself not really convincing. But this is the retorno-free, round-about free line that saves the driver here. But looking at these maps quickly might easily be misleading about the issues. This is the problem with Brasilia. From above, from very far above, it is difficult the understand the challenges of the city layout. I mean, the guys who planned the city did not imagined how frustrating it would be to move around. At the contrary, they were convinced to have created the best place to live on earth!
A few weeks ago I found this backroad that makes it much faster to get to the airport. It must cut off 5 or 6 km to the entire trip. This road cuts through what is called the chacaras, which were initially properties with a agrarian use. Today these properties are mostly large estates with comfortable mansions, just like anywhere else in the plush suburb of Lago Sul. The beauty of this road is not only its landscape but also the fact that there is no photo radar. Don't get me wrong, I am not a real speeder. But any distractions are so costly that I prefer taking the back road.
A more important discovery was this "highway" to the JK bridge, all the way from the W3 South to the bridge, uninterrupted by retornos (U-turns) or round-abouts. It is called Via das Ligação Se/Ne, the SE/NE Connecting Avenue. Why am I so excited by this find? It is because if moving North-South in this city can be in a very short time and in a very direct way using the large Exio, moving East-West. But crossing the "wing" of the plane of Brasilia, through the quadras (clusters of housing blocks) is frankly speaking a pain. Moving East-West was obviously not a concerned for the planners, imagining that weaving through the quadras would flow easily, but the effort of reaching the W3 from the bridges and Lago Sul is greater than coming from completely the opposite direction (Asa Norte).
In other words, without the Ligação, the West-East travel necessitates to needle in and out of the quadras through their commercial streets. Commercial streets which are already congested by the lack of parking space and the number of enthusiast double-line parkers. And since the quadras are not aligned with one another, but arranged in staggered lots one from another, one has to flow along around a round-about to the next connecting street to the following round-about to the next quadra's commercial street to a set of three dips under the massive Eixo and its side Eixãos through the next commercial and around the next round about to the next connecting street to the next round about to the next commercial street until you reach the W3. Dizzy?
A portion of the Ligação is fairly new, so new that Google Maps did not get it right yet (yes I doctored the maps to show you where I drive). But the good news is some planners have accepted to cut through the "picture perfect plan of Brasilia" to make something essential and efficient, probably amidst some purist opposition.
Via the quadras, the Garça Bridge and along Dom Bosco road: 18,4 km.
Via the W3, the Via de Ligação, the JK Bridge and a bit along the Dom Bosco: 17,2 km - going straight.
We are talking about a km of difference, which is in itself not really convincing. But this is the retorno-free, round-about free line that saves the driver here. But looking at these maps quickly might easily be misleading about the issues. This is the problem with Brasilia. From above, from very far above, it is difficult the understand the challenges of the city layout. I mean, the guys who planned the city did not imagined how frustrating it would be to move around. At the contrary, they were convinced to have created the best place to live on earth!
Petites Madeleines
Some of us are born bakers, while others chefs. I love being invited to my friends E, she makes these amazing petites madeleines, a treat that is absolutely impossible to find here.
When we got here, a newly-made friend described our future life as a "never ending BBQ". I would tend to correct him and say it is a "never ending food tasting event"... Nothing to complain about!
When we got here, a newly-made friend described our future life as a "never ending BBQ". I would tend to correct him and say it is a "never ending food tasting event"... Nothing to complain about!
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Coffee Cultures are not Always the Same
The other day I found myself very distracted in my yoga class. Beside her mat, this woman had what appeared to be a cup of Starbucks coffee. A clarification to my foreign-based readership: there are no Starbucks in Brasilia. I meditated over that cup while we were doing breathing exercises, wondering about the reasons of my disturbance. I mean, I am not a Starbucks lover. Even if crowds love them, I have never found their coffee amazing; the various coffee mixes and drinks they proposed never were my thing.
But in many other countries, Starbucks coffee shops are merge into the urban landscape. They have invaded cities like Paris, London and Moscow, they are a place to retreat, read, surf the web, more than just a place to get a drink.
In Beijing these stores would inhabit the lobby of many towers. Affluent Chinese would splurge to get a coffee that could cost them 4 times less in a local shop.
In Vancouver, I remember a street corner with 3 Starbucks shops kitty corner from one another. And in the streets, hardly no passerby's hands, strollers or backpack was without a Starbucks thermos-mug.
Here in Brasilia then, no Starbucks. Nope, none. Zero. (There is no Ikea either, but that is another topic entirely).
My years in Africa were also Starbucks-free - but this was no surprise as neither Senegal, Congo or Liberia rhymed with coffee culture, nor popular destination for American imperialism. And I was not there looking for places to hang out, I was far too busy with my work then.
But the absence of Starbucks does not mean a place is not a coffee culture, at the contrary.
As an example, Italy is entirely Starbucks-free. But in Italy, the coffee culture is strong, and with like any Italian things, its making and serving requires precision. No frapuccino latté with soy milk topped with cinnamon is allowed passed the Italian border. Here, tiny cups of creamy and smooth coffee are drank quickly standing at the bar. And cappuccinos are reserved for late afternoon, when there is time to leisurely savor the beverage. In Italy, coffee is so good that even an expresso is drank without sugar. Now Starbucks cannot compete with that.
Here in Brazil coffee is available almost everywhere. It is no surprise since the country produces about one third of all the world's production. The coffee culture is deeply linked to the history of the economic development of the country and slavery.
Yet for my North American eye, this local coffee culture is full of contradiction.
Today, years after the abolition of slavery, coffee is very present in Brazilians' lives. I like to think it is expressed by this interesting linguistic fact: When having their breakfast, the Brazilians say "tomar café de manha", literally to drink a morning coffee, even if there is no coffee involved, or even if they are solely eating their breakfast.
In daily life, coffee is usually available for free in popular restaurants, those buffet "by the kilo", from a thermos, in a self-help form. The super strong and sweetened brew is also available for free in grocery stores, gas stations, doctor's office and other places with waiting involved. It is available in about every grocery stores, even in the dodgy ones, maybe hiding at the end of an aisle. And at best you might get three sips from these baby size plastic cups. Not really the best way to enjoy it I guess, but certainly a good way to get a coffee fix.
When we arrived here, I tried to find where I could go for a coffee. Even if i quickly found the stand in the aisle of the grocery store, it did not really feel like my kind of hangout. But coffee shops did not pop in front of my eyes the same way they did in Italy, France or New York, yet this could initially be attributed to the unique quirkiness of Brasilia. I found them in malls and small shopping complexes. But what I found most often were pastry shops serving coffee. And while these shops would serve all the unimaginable types of local and foreign cakes and pastries, coffee was usually a very simple, black, bitter expresso (which I love).
In some of them, I sat with my computer to work, but in most occasions I felt at odd, either stealing valuable seating place for those rushing in and out. Laptops in these pastry shops were not a common sight, or even just people sitting for more than 20 minutes after they finish their drinks. Probably nobody said anything because I was obviously a foreigner. Or because my portuguese was null at the time. These places were not coffee shops in a anglo-saxon world, Starbucks way. I eventually just gave these up.
In any cases, the other day I just walked into one of these restaurants, those that have their breakfast buffet open early. I was seeing people walking out with what I assumed was egg sandwiches. I ordered a coffee, to go.
Just the Starbucks way, right.
The waitress firstly expressed some kind of surprise but produced the desired beverage in a styrofoam cup, without lid. When I indicated that this was not going to work in my car, she just simply covered the cup with a plastic film. I stood there puzzled, at the cashier, wondering how to address this situation, how to drink it while driving.
I was just reminded again there is no Starbucks way here.
I just picked a straw into the film: Ready to go!
But in many other countries, Starbucks coffee shops are merge into the urban landscape. They have invaded cities like Paris, London and Moscow, they are a place to retreat, read, surf the web, more than just a place to get a drink.
In Beijing these stores would inhabit the lobby of many towers. Affluent Chinese would splurge to get a coffee that could cost them 4 times less in a local shop.
In Vancouver, I remember a street corner with 3 Starbucks shops kitty corner from one another. And in the streets, hardly no passerby's hands, strollers or backpack was without a Starbucks thermos-mug.
Here in Brasilia then, no Starbucks. Nope, none. Zero. (There is no Ikea either, but that is another topic entirely).
My years in Africa were also Starbucks-free - but this was no surprise as neither Senegal, Congo or Liberia rhymed with coffee culture, nor popular destination for American imperialism. And I was not there looking for places to hang out, I was far too busy with my work then.
But the absence of Starbucks does not mean a place is not a coffee culture, at the contrary.
As an example, Italy is entirely Starbucks-free. But in Italy, the coffee culture is strong, and with like any Italian things, its making and serving requires precision. No frapuccino latté with soy milk topped with cinnamon is allowed passed the Italian border. Here, tiny cups of creamy and smooth coffee are drank quickly standing at the bar. And cappuccinos are reserved for late afternoon, when there is time to leisurely savor the beverage. In Italy, coffee is so good that even an expresso is drank without sugar. Now Starbucks cannot compete with that.
Here in Brazil coffee is available almost everywhere. It is no surprise since the country produces about one third of all the world's production. The coffee culture is deeply linked to the history of the economic development of the country and slavery.
Yet for my North American eye, this local coffee culture is full of contradiction.
Today, years after the abolition of slavery, coffee is very present in Brazilians' lives. I like to think it is expressed by this interesting linguistic fact: When having their breakfast, the Brazilians say "tomar café de manha", literally to drink a morning coffee, even if there is no coffee involved, or even if they are solely eating their breakfast.
In daily life, coffee is usually available for free in popular restaurants, those buffet "by the kilo", from a thermos, in a self-help form. The super strong and sweetened brew is also available for free in grocery stores, gas stations, doctor's office and other places with waiting involved. It is available in about every grocery stores, even in the dodgy ones, maybe hiding at the end of an aisle. And at best you might get three sips from these baby size plastic cups. Not really the best way to enjoy it I guess, but certainly a good way to get a coffee fix.
When we arrived here, I tried to find where I could go for a coffee. Even if i quickly found the stand in the aisle of the grocery store, it did not really feel like my kind of hangout. But coffee shops did not pop in front of my eyes the same way they did in Italy, France or New York, yet this could initially be attributed to the unique quirkiness of Brasilia. I found them in malls and small shopping complexes. But what I found most often were pastry shops serving coffee. And while these shops would serve all the unimaginable types of local and foreign cakes and pastries, coffee was usually a very simple, black, bitter expresso (which I love).
In some of them, I sat with my computer to work, but in most occasions I felt at odd, either stealing valuable seating place for those rushing in and out. Laptops in these pastry shops were not a common sight, or even just people sitting for more than 20 minutes after they finish their drinks. Probably nobody said anything because I was obviously a foreigner. Or because my portuguese was null at the time. These places were not coffee shops in a anglo-saxon world, Starbucks way. I eventually just gave these up.
In any cases, the other day I just walked into one of these restaurants, those that have their breakfast buffet open early. I was seeing people walking out with what I assumed was egg sandwiches. I ordered a coffee, to go.
Just the Starbucks way, right.
The waitress firstly expressed some kind of surprise but produced the desired beverage in a styrofoam cup, without lid. When I indicated that this was not going to work in my car, she just simply covered the cup with a plastic film. I stood there puzzled, at the cashier, wondering how to address this situation, how to drink it while driving.
I was just reminded again there is no Starbucks way here.
I just picked a straw into the film: Ready to go!
Testing out the New Camera
While walking I am taking along my new camera. I purchased a Canon G15, following the recommendation of our friend Adi, who is a professional photographer in Tel Aviv. I could not imagine taking the big Nikon and its big lens along. It would be too heavy, too cumbersome to carry around in a hike. I like to take photos, but I would be afraid to actually come back with some damaged equipment.
So now that my pretty cute and light G15 as arrived, I am playing and testing it around. What better time to do than than during my morning walks? The light is great, adding a glowing yellow tone to everything.
So now that my pretty cute and light G15 as arrived, I am playing and testing it around. What better time to do than than during my morning walks? The light is great, adding a glowing yellow tone to everything.
Working these Feet Again
After 8 weeks of cast, I am trying to put my feet back onto a regime. I get out in the morning and go walk around the area, in the SMDBs and the back streets. I am pretty happy, it feels very good, and the walking is not bothering my foot at all. I put on my old walking boots, the ones that took me around the Pirenées and the Alpes and the Rockies. These Merrel are still the best boot I have ever had.
Off the boots, barefoot, I still have trouble flexing and pointing my toes, but I am told the cast was on too long. A lovely physiotherapist help them get back to their normal state. And high heels are out for now, limiting my choices of footwear to a handful of pairs. But that said, I now really enjoy the return of my mobility, and these early morning walks.
Off the boots, barefoot, I still have trouble flexing and pointing my toes, but I am told the cast was on too long. A lovely physiotherapist help them get back to their normal state. And high heels are out for now, limiting my choices of footwear to a handful of pairs. But that said, I now really enjoy the return of my mobility, and these early morning walks.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
New Art
Look at the new art piece Noam came up with!
For a few weeks, the kids have been drawing monuments. Today they got their inspiration with the Eiffel Tower. I like how my little Canadian-(American-Israeli) boy "claimed" the metal structure... Note the maple leaf taking some similarities to the Brazilian map.
For a few weeks, the kids have been drawing monuments. Today they got their inspiration with the Eiffel Tower. I like how my little Canadian-(American-Israeli) boy "claimed" the metal structure... Note the maple leaf taking some similarities to the Brazilian map.
Your House Your Life
One of the cliché images we have from Brazil is the favelas, the shanty towns filled with poor people. Indeed Brazil is struggling with a huge number of its population that is not able to access decent housing, and ends up living either in slums or on the streets. About 6% of the country's population lives in favelas, or about 11.4 million people reports the IBGE in their 2010 census. Homeownership is unaffordable for more than 60% of the Brazilian population says the IDB.
However living in Brasilia keeps our eyes away from the issue: there is not really any slums to see. There are various reasons for this, one of the main is that Brasilia was never designed to include lower segments of the population. In fact Brasilia has rather been described as a city of exclusion, you can read some more about the topic here.
In one of my driving afternoon to shoot Emmanuel to sleep I ended up in São Sebastião. It is a small community of about 100,000 souls a few kilometers from where we live. It is a typical low income suburb of Brasilia, far from the city center. Very different from Brasilia, it is unplanned, with one main street along which small concrete buildings line up their garage-door storefront, and with people hanging out and socializing in front of them. The area looks less manicured, more densely occupied, more vibrant, more real Brazil, and yet probably more rough and tough. Before reaching the town center, at the intersection from the main road and the highway, this housing complex was under construction. The vision of these aligned small concrete structures with empty openings on several hundred of square meters of land initially pleased me; it looked like a mini Chinese housing development (I admit to be nostalgic in strange ways). These are part of the social housing program the country is currently developing.
Indeed, during his presidency, Lula put in place a program addressing the housing problem of lower segments of the population. It is called "Minha Casa Minha Vida", My House My Life. Launched in 2009, the public housing program initially had for objective the creation of one million housing units; since a much larger number have been developed.
The mechanisms are similar for all of them: banks finances the development of the units and provides mortgages to the eligible families. The developers make the initial investments in land acquisition and developments. The government provides a number of guidelines regarding the units and the complexes, but does not directly oversees the projects. Upon completion, the government provides its approval while the banks give the financial structure to provide the mortgages to the participating families. In practice it means that the low income segments of the population have access to this type of housing, but not the poorest. As there is a mortgage involved the families beneficiaries of the programs are usually earning an income, even if very limited.
This photo shows an other development we passed on our way to Val Paraiso. From the looks you can tell right away that architects are not part of the design process. However, I am curious to know more about this program and its mechanisms. I will return with more details later.
Until then I will keep on driving around with Emmanuel sleeping in the back.
However living in Brasilia keeps our eyes away from the issue: there is not really any slums to see. There are various reasons for this, one of the main is that Brasilia was never designed to include lower segments of the population. In fact Brasilia has rather been described as a city of exclusion, you can read some more about the topic here.
In one of my driving afternoon to shoot Emmanuel to sleep I ended up in São Sebastião. It is a small community of about 100,000 souls a few kilometers from where we live. It is a typical low income suburb of Brasilia, far from the city center. Very different from Brasilia, it is unplanned, with one main street along which small concrete buildings line up their garage-door storefront, and with people hanging out and socializing in front of them. The area looks less manicured, more densely occupied, more vibrant, more real Brazil, and yet probably more rough and tough. Before reaching the town center, at the intersection from the main road and the highway, this housing complex was under construction. The vision of these aligned small concrete structures with empty openings on several hundred of square meters of land initially pleased me; it looked like a mini Chinese housing development (I admit to be nostalgic in strange ways). These are part of the social housing program the country is currently developing.
The mechanisms are similar for all of them: banks finances the development of the units and provides mortgages to the eligible families. The developers make the initial investments in land acquisition and developments. The government provides a number of guidelines regarding the units and the complexes, but does not directly oversees the projects. Upon completion, the government provides its approval while the banks give the financial structure to provide the mortgages to the participating families. In practice it means that the low income segments of the population have access to this type of housing, but not the poorest. As there is a mortgage involved the families beneficiaries of the programs are usually earning an income, even if very limited.
This photo shows an other development we passed on our way to Val Paraiso. From the looks you can tell right away that architects are not part of the design process. However, I am curious to know more about this program and its mechanisms. I will return with more details later.
Until then I will keep on driving around with Emmanuel sleeping in the back.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
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...
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...
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Food Obession
I always loved cooking. I can't recall when I cooked my first meal. But I remember regularly assisting at night my mom as she was busy with work. And I remember as teenager cooking at a friend's house with a bunch of my girlfriends, and my friend's mom noticing a certain ease and ability maneuvering a dish.
Cooking, but also eating, has always been an important part of my life. My husband sometimes finds that with my family devotes too much time talking about the next meal, preparing it, eating it, and cleaning up afterward. As I grew up like this, to me this is "good living" and I don't see any problem obsessing about the next meal...
I also read a lot of cooking books. I have a number of favorite cooking websites, look here here or here or here again. I spend a lot of time in my kitchen, it is a relaxing time for me, even when I have guests. I remember after my assignment in Congo, where I did not have access to the kitchen (a rule of a shared house with cook), I landed in Paris at my friend's, and just invaded her already tiny kitchen, cooking four or five course meals, and gorging myself on fresh berries and other goodies unavailable in Africa. Bliss.
Recently a friend showed me this book from Ottolenghi. He is a well-known Israeli chef in London. I could not resist, I ordered it.
His approach to food is completely different than what I have seen before. His recipes are always fresh, amazingly tasty. They are mostly simple and easy to make, but they use a number of ingredients that are often mis-loved or harder to find. Think quinoa, eggplant, tahini, za'atar and other middle eastern goodies. Yet is food cannot simply be described as "Middle Eastern". It is more than that. More subtle and researched (Middle Easterner, please don't get offended, I love your food).
After trying several of his recipes, I realized that the selection was entirely vegetarian. I mean, this book is about vegetarian cooking, and I did not get that right away! What a feat!
It is something important to note, actually. I have to confess slowly de-vegetarianazing my dear husband. I love my meat, so I should not have minded, getting more on my plate that way. But to be clear, it was by shear laziness. Yes, I always found vegetarian dishes to be more complicated to make, and taking much longer to complete. A big piece of meat get slapped with a bit of mustard or something, and stuck in the over, et voilà! Dinner is ready. Can't do that with a bunch of lentils, right? Well, wrong. Wrong, since I have my slow cooker. And wrong, says Ottolenghi. And wrong, says me, more and more convinced that not only there is an easy way to be eating less meat, but also that less meat is more healthy.
Cooking, but also eating, has always been an important part of my life. My husband sometimes finds that with my family devotes too much time talking about the next meal, preparing it, eating it, and cleaning up afterward. As I grew up like this, to me this is "good living" and I don't see any problem obsessing about the next meal...
I also read a lot of cooking books. I have a number of favorite cooking websites, look here here or here or here again. I spend a lot of time in my kitchen, it is a relaxing time for me, even when I have guests. I remember after my assignment in Congo, where I did not have access to the kitchen (a rule of a shared house with cook), I landed in Paris at my friend's, and just invaded her already tiny kitchen, cooking four or five course meals, and gorging myself on fresh berries and other goodies unavailable in Africa. Bliss.
Recently a friend showed me this book from Ottolenghi. He is a well-known Israeli chef in London. I could not resist, I ordered it.
His approach to food is completely different than what I have seen before. His recipes are always fresh, amazingly tasty. They are mostly simple and easy to make, but they use a number of ingredients that are often mis-loved or harder to find. Think quinoa, eggplant, tahini, za'atar and other middle eastern goodies. Yet is food cannot simply be described as "Middle Eastern". It is more than that. More subtle and researched (Middle Easterner, please don't get offended, I love your food).
After trying several of his recipes, I realized that the selection was entirely vegetarian. I mean, this book is about vegetarian cooking, and I did not get that right away! What a feat!
It is something important to note, actually. I have to confess slowly de-vegetarianazing my dear husband. I love my meat, so I should not have minded, getting more on my plate that way. But to be clear, it was by shear laziness. Yes, I always found vegetarian dishes to be more complicated to make, and taking much longer to complete. A big piece of meat get slapped with a bit of mustard or something, and stuck in the over, et voilà! Dinner is ready. Can't do that with a bunch of lentils, right? Well, wrong. Wrong, since I have my slow cooker. And wrong, says Ottolenghi. And wrong, says me, more and more convinced that not only there is an easy way to be eating less meat, but also that less meat is more healthy.
Footcheeball
Footcheeball! Yes this is how they say this here: Football! It is a National sport, I mean a National Obsession. Everyone has a favorite team, and nobody is immune. Even our kids, after less than a year in Brazil!
For Brazil holding the World Cup is like a consecration of their passion. The Brazilians are the proud host of the soon-to-come World Cup, and they are scrambling to get things ready on time. The Confederation Cup, which is essentially a dress rehearsal for the FIFA, is being held around the country a year before the WC. Just on the news yesterday they were showing them buckets in hand, taking water out of a collapsing roof of a new stadium. Brasilia new stadium, the Mane Garrincha National Stadium, has a crew working around the clock to finish on time. This new stadium, sitting near the city center, would have cost more than US$ 550 millions to the taxpayers. A few days ago, the inauguration went on despite missing seats. Not wanting to miss a historic event, we purchased tickets to attend the first match to be played in the stadium: Santos (SP) vs Flamingo (Rio). The tickets were horribly expensive. So much for sport being a democratization of the masses. At the price we paid, we could have done a nice trip somewhere out of town for the weekend.
In any cases, this is how it works:
Pay online. Then go line up somewhere in town for a few hours before you get your tickets. The D day, walk over along with about 20,000 others for a few miles, because all the streets around the area are closed to traffic. Then line up in one of the swirling queues all around the stadium. Finally get near security. Pass your bag in metal detector, with the feeling nobody really watched the screen. Don't feel surprise if no one asked you for that pricey ticket yet. Walk further to the precinct of the stadium, climb the stairs, wondering how this can be so easy - people without tickets might also be wandering. Get to your seating area, pass a small gate - finally show that ticket. Grab the breathtaking view, then find you row. There, balancing midway in the stairs, try to count the seats to match the number on your ticket. The stadium is not entirely finished, seat numbering is still in the "to-do" list. Find people in your seat. Happy people that are not going to move. Split your group of friends, get kids to share seats. Swear quietly about what feels like a money scam.
Ok, I sound grumpy, but we had a great time. A really fun time.
We forget about it all when the match started. We later figured that the ticket price comes with a de-frozen burger in a bag, a cola and two bags of chips, to the delight of the kids.
It was fun to see the action, to see how Flamingo (the red and black) are the favorite of the Brasilienses. A few hundred Santos fans were installed in one area, surrounded with massive security protection. Emmanuel's teacher and her family enjoyed the attention! It was great to experience this modern colosseum, to be part of a historical moment like this one. And it was great to see how excited the kids were!
For Brazil holding the World Cup is like a consecration of their passion. The Brazilians are the proud host of the soon-to-come World Cup, and they are scrambling to get things ready on time. The Confederation Cup, which is essentially a dress rehearsal for the FIFA, is being held around the country a year before the WC. Just on the news yesterday they were showing them buckets in hand, taking water out of a collapsing roof of a new stadium. Brasilia new stadium, the Mane Garrincha National Stadium, has a crew working around the clock to finish on time. This new stadium, sitting near the city center, would have cost more than US$ 550 millions to the taxpayers. A few days ago, the inauguration went on despite missing seats. Not wanting to miss a historic event, we purchased tickets to attend the first match to be played in the stadium: Santos (SP) vs Flamingo (Rio). The tickets were horribly expensive. So much for sport being a democratization of the masses. At the price we paid, we could have done a nice trip somewhere out of town for the weekend.
In any cases, this is how it works:
Pay online. Then go line up somewhere in town for a few hours before you get your tickets. The D day, walk over along with about 20,000 others for a few miles, because all the streets around the area are closed to traffic. Then line up in one of the swirling queues all around the stadium. Finally get near security. Pass your bag in metal detector, with the feeling nobody really watched the screen. Don't feel surprise if no one asked you for that pricey ticket yet. Walk further to the precinct of the stadium, climb the stairs, wondering how this can be so easy - people without tickets might also be wandering. Get to your seating area, pass a small gate - finally show that ticket. Grab the breathtaking view, then find you row. There, balancing midway in the stairs, try to count the seats to match the number on your ticket. The stadium is not entirely finished, seat numbering is still in the "to-do" list. Find people in your seat. Happy people that are not going to move. Split your group of friends, get kids to share seats. Swear quietly about what feels like a money scam.
Ok, I sound grumpy, but we had a great time. A really fun time.
We forget about it all when the match started. We later figured that the ticket price comes with a de-frozen burger in a bag, a cola and two bags of chips, to the delight of the kids.
It was fun to see the action, to see how Flamingo (the red and black) are the favorite of the Brasilienses. A few hundred Santos fans were installed in one area, surrounded with massive security protection. Emmanuel's teacher and her family enjoyed the attention! It was great to experience this modern colosseum, to be part of a historical moment like this one. And it was great to see how excited the kids were!
Saturday, May 25, 2013
Getting Ready
After 2 weeks of pain and 8 weeks of super boot, I am now free!
The hike we planned is coming soon. I need to get ready. Here is what I found online, to do in 7 minutes, total. I hope it works!
You can read about these exercises here. (note, to scroll down on this site you need to use your mouse like if it is your finger on your ipad).
The hike we planned is coming soon. I need to get ready. Here is what I found online, to do in 7 minutes, total. I hope it works!
You can read about these exercises here. (note, to scroll down on this site you need to use your mouse like if it is your finger on your ipad).
Equal Rights
On May 14 2013, Brazil turned a historic page: the country legalized same-sex marriages. Brazil is consequently placing itself at the forefront of the LBGT rights, with a handful of other countries (namely Canada, Spain, Portugal, Netherlands, England, Belgium, Argentina, New Zealand, even Uruguay and a few more). Recently France also have joined the ranks, but the French created much more havoc about the issues than the Brazilians.
Here or in other places in the country there was no demonstrations against the passing of the law. And when you look around, the Brazilians appear to be pretty open, specially in places like Rio and Sao Paolo. Guinness is saying that Sao Paolo has the world biggest gay parade in the world. And yet, as I am writing this, I learn that Brazil remains a country with a very high level of violences against the LBGT community.
Tonight we were invited with friends to a party. The same-sex marriage topic came to table.
And then I fell off my chair.
The thing is that as expats, we evolve into a generally super open super intelligent super life-loving crowd of people. People who have lived in many places, people who are often in mix-cultural marriages, people who have often gown up in a culture that is not theirs, people who generally need a pretty good sense of openness to be able to evolve comfortably in cultures that are foreign, people who are used to being out of their comfort zones. So I found myself very surprised, and then very upset by the fact that I needed to debate the values of the liberals laws that were just passed in both countries. Laws that are about freedom of sexual orientation, freedom of family choices, freedom of adoption for same sex couples. I even needed to defend the benefit of a law allowing single mothers to procreate medically or to adopt (like in Canada or Israel). I felt I was replaying a discussion set in the 50s. It just did not make sense with my views of the world, with my values, that someone from my entourage would not share these values.
There was no way of changing my interlocutor's point of view, tainted with religious dogmas.
Then I was reminded that yes, even if it is a world trend, LGBT rights are absent in most parts of the world. Only a handful of countries have jumped over the fence of prejudices and discrimination and started protecting legally these people. Yes LGBT are vulnerable in most places of the world. Consequently it is normal to bump once in a while into people who are not yet aware of the issues at stakes.
At least my friend and I were able to debate, to hear each other, and to agree to disagree.
photo from wiki
Here or in other places in the country there was no demonstrations against the passing of the law. And when you look around, the Brazilians appear to be pretty open, specially in places like Rio and Sao Paolo. Guinness is saying that Sao Paolo has the world biggest gay parade in the world. And yet, as I am writing this, I learn that Brazil remains a country with a very high level of violences against the LBGT community.
Tonight we were invited with friends to a party. The same-sex marriage topic came to table.
And then I fell off my chair.
The thing is that as expats, we evolve into a generally super open super intelligent super life-loving crowd of people. People who have lived in many places, people who are often in mix-cultural marriages, people who have often gown up in a culture that is not theirs, people who generally need a pretty good sense of openness to be able to evolve comfortably in cultures that are foreign, people who are used to being out of their comfort zones. So I found myself very surprised, and then very upset by the fact that I needed to debate the values of the liberals laws that were just passed in both countries. Laws that are about freedom of sexual orientation, freedom of family choices, freedom of adoption for same sex couples. I even needed to defend the benefit of a law allowing single mothers to procreate medically or to adopt (like in Canada or Israel). I felt I was replaying a discussion set in the 50s. It just did not make sense with my views of the world, with my values, that someone from my entourage would not share these values.
There was no way of changing my interlocutor's point of view, tainted with religious dogmas.
Then I was reminded that yes, even if it is a world trend, LGBT rights are absent in most parts of the world. Only a handful of countries have jumped over the fence of prejudices and discrimination and started protecting legally these people. Yes LGBT are vulnerable in most places of the world. Consequently it is normal to bump once in a while into people who are not yet aware of the issues at stakes.
At least my friend and I were able to debate, to hear each other, and to agree to disagree.
photo from wiki
Friday, May 24, 2013
Symptoms
High pitch screams. Body throwing around the floor. Hyper-sensitivity to any kind of looks, comments or wind breezes. Delicate skin unable to bear hugs or tickles. Drama acting about a leg who might just fall off. Hunger to kill. Unstoppable laughter. Incapacity to sit still.
No, it is not me.
Just my over-tired 3-1/2 years old.
I guess this could also be labelled "Scarlatina's symptoms".
No, it is not me.
Just my over-tired 3-1/2 years old.
I guess this could also be labelled "Scarlatina's symptoms".
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Not Feeling Well
My little one is not feeling so well. He woke up in a foul mood, even if we can't say this point is usually a sign of illness. But it has been a few days that he seems to trail some kind of low fever and today is not different. So this morning I decided we are going to have a little ride to the hospital. Dengue is a severe disease here and we do not want to take a chance.
I gave up on private doctors here. First they are expensive - about $R 300 each visit. Then I seem to second guess many of their opinions or diagnosis. And many friends have had terrible experience. And finally if they have something that requires testings, I am in for a day: get to the doctor first, walk out with a list of things to test, go to a testing center, get tested, wait for results, go back to the same doctor. So this Santa Lucia hospital, where we went for my foot and Emmanuel's arm, seems to be a better deal for us.
One thing I like about it there is the fact that they have a special ER section for kids, so the wait might be reduced. They are not exactly fast, but it is kind of a limited pain compared to lugging a sick child around the city between doctors and testing centers. And bonus, they charge something that is much more reasonable.
In any cases, I went there prepared, ipads and ipods and small cars. Our wait was not so long, and the doctor was nice. Emmanuel had developed some rash during the waiting interval - a sign of either Dengue or of scarlatina. I kept my fingers crossed during the testing, and our verdict is the confirmation of scarlatina. Scarlatina. Not Dengue. Good.
Well. Poor Emmanuel.
Prescription? A few antibiotics and one week away from school.
Oh dear.
I gave up on private doctors here. First they are expensive - about $R 300 each visit. Then I seem to second guess many of their opinions or diagnosis. And many friends have had terrible experience. And finally if they have something that requires testings, I am in for a day: get to the doctor first, walk out with a list of things to test, go to a testing center, get tested, wait for results, go back to the same doctor. So this Santa Lucia hospital, where we went for my foot and Emmanuel's arm, seems to be a better deal for us.
One thing I like about it there is the fact that they have a special ER section for kids, so the wait might be reduced. They are not exactly fast, but it is kind of a limited pain compared to lugging a sick child around the city between doctors and testing centers. And bonus, they charge something that is much more reasonable.
In any cases, I went there prepared, ipads and ipods and small cars. Our wait was not so long, and the doctor was nice. Emmanuel had developed some rash during the waiting interval - a sign of either Dengue or of scarlatina. I kept my fingers crossed during the testing, and our verdict is the confirmation of scarlatina. Scarlatina. Not Dengue. Good.
Well. Poor Emmanuel.
Prescription? A few antibiotics and one week away from school.
Oh dear.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
SMDBs
We live in Lago Sul, a suburb of Brasilia, in the SMDB area; in the Setor de Mansões Dom Bosco. The name could be translated by the Dom Bosco Sector of the Manors, or something similar. Even if it is not within the Plano Piloto, Lago Sul is a suburb planned along with the same rules as the rest of Brasilia: everything of similar use goes together. Consequently, the SMDB are the areas for large single family houses. And it is hard to find anything else there.
The interesting thing about the SMDB area is its order, which is very different from the rest of the city. Usually in Brasilia things are organized in an orderly fashion. Number are organized in order; 1, 2, 3 follow each other, as one would normally assume. I mentioned earlier that there is no conventional street name. Things are rather divided in areas, in large zones (like the SMDB for example, but also like the hospital sector, the school sector, the shopping sector), and then broken down in Quadras (neigborhoods) or in Conjuntos (junctions), and then the building number can be given. In Lago Sul, the entire area was sub-divided in two, the quadras along the lake - QL - and the inner quadras - QI. Then a set of numbers are given to all the little dead-end streets on which houses are aligned.
Here in the SMDBs, it is a little more tricky. First the SMDBs are not accessible from everywhere. They are clusters of a few SMDBs conjunctos (or small streets) and each of these clusters are accessible from a limited number of entry points through the QIs, and sometimes by only one point. The first trick is to learn where are these entry points. Then the SMDBs are sprinkled in a orderly fashion that is visible only from above - some big (ego) master plan power (also known as Costa, the planner), laid these around like someone sprinkles salt on his beans. The result is a little odd from the ground, where 17 and 16 are encountered before 14, where 12 is mix beside 28 and where you have 12a 12b and 12c next to 31 but really really far from 12 - an after-thought obviously. These SMDBs are usually on the hills behind the QIs. They all have either a view of the lake or a view of the surrounding hills, streams and nature.
Why am I writing here about this? Simply because the spatial arrangement of the SMDBs creates a unusual maze of roads and nature. I have enjoyed driving along their roads while trying to get Emmanuel to nap (a car ride does wonders these days). I have circumvented my son's sleep patterns with the discovery of the area, while day-dreaming of landscapes over which these houses gaze. I keep taking some shortcuts (that are not always so short) just to keep that impression of being in the countryside. At times I stop the car, and contemplate a landscape that, if standing in the right place, makes you feel that you are somewhere else, away from a city, deep in nature. And I just love it...
Here is a view from this backroad shortcut to our house, under the light of the afternoon ending. Gleaming atop of the hill is our house and our neighbors'. I love this view.
And this photo does not really makes justice to the beauty of landscape.
 |
Here in the SMDBs, it is a little more tricky. First the SMDBs are not accessible from everywhere. They are clusters of a few SMDBs conjunctos (or small streets) and each of these clusters are accessible from a limited number of entry points through the QIs, and sometimes by only one point. The first trick is to learn where are these entry points. Then the SMDBs are sprinkled in a orderly fashion that is visible only from above - some big (ego) master plan power (also known as Costa, the planner), laid these around like someone sprinkles salt on his beans. The result is a little odd from the ground, where 17 and 16 are encountered before 14, where 12 is mix beside 28 and where you have 12a 12b and 12c next to 31 but really really far from 12 - an after-thought obviously. These SMDBs are usually on the hills behind the QIs. They all have either a view of the lake or a view of the surrounding hills, streams and nature.
Why am I writing here about this? Simply because the spatial arrangement of the SMDBs creates a unusual maze of roads and nature. I have enjoyed driving along their roads while trying to get Emmanuel to nap (a car ride does wonders these days). I have circumvented my son's sleep patterns with the discovery of the area, while day-dreaming of landscapes over which these houses gaze. I keep taking some shortcuts (that are not always so short) just to keep that impression of being in the countryside. At times I stop the car, and contemplate a landscape that, if standing in the right place, makes you feel that you are somewhere else, away from a city, deep in nature. And I just love it...
Here is a view from this backroad shortcut to our house, under the light of the afternoon ending. Gleaming atop of the hill is our house and our neighbors'. I love this view.
And this photo does not really makes justice to the beauty of landscape.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
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.
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.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Paying Up
I have a collection of traffic offenses, most of which were related to going a little over the allowed limit.
Wanting to get things done, wanting to avoid waisting more time in these banks, wanting to just tick one box on my long to-do list, wanting to get a life, I get to the bank a few minutes before opening hours and line up. To get to the bank on time is not a great feat, since the opening hours are eleven to four (yes my friends, banks operate only five hours per day here!). I was not the only one with such brilliant intentions, about 20 people were already standing. But since my fellow bank-aficionados and I have nothing better to do, conversations were engaged; a good way to practice my portuguese. After standing for 15 min, the entire line of 30 people (who by now know where I am from and where my kids go to school) is moved downstairs to wait some more before getting to one of the two tellers counters. We each get a little number to make the wait more pleasant. The combination of two of these factors probably explains the clerk's kindness: I am kindly assigned the preference line, a privilege given to those with reduced mobility (remember I am wearing my super-boot), with kids in tow and with more candles to their cake than they usually want to admit. This practice also explains why I usually pull my kids along to all my banking trips: they reduce my wait time quite considerably. In turn, to entice them, I promise them ipad time during the wait.
Eventually, after a decent wait - to the despair of my video-games-addicted kids, I come to the counter, with all my multas (fines), my printed notes, my cash, my cane. And pay. Get a receipt.
5 minutes at the counter.
Walk out with my kids.
35 minutes in total.
For some reasons, it feels like a great accomplishment.
Wanting to get things done, wanting to avoid waisting more time in these banks, wanting to just tick one box on my long to-do list, wanting to get a life, I get to the bank a few minutes before opening hours and line up. To get to the bank on time is not a great feat, since the opening hours are eleven to four (yes my friends, banks operate only five hours per day here!). I was not the only one with such brilliant intentions, about 20 people were already standing. But since my fellow bank-aficionados and I have nothing better to do, conversations were engaged; a good way to practice my portuguese. After standing for 15 min, the entire line of 30 people (who by now know where I am from and where my kids go to school) is moved downstairs to wait some more before getting to one of the two tellers counters. We each get a little number to make the wait more pleasant. The combination of two of these factors probably explains the clerk's kindness: I am kindly assigned the preference line, a privilege given to those with reduced mobility (remember I am wearing my super-boot), with kids in tow and with more candles to their cake than they usually want to admit. This practice also explains why I usually pull my kids along to all my banking trips: they reduce my wait time quite considerably. In turn, to entice them, I promise them ipad time during the wait.
Eventually, after a decent wait - to the despair of my video-games-addicted kids, I come to the counter, with all my multas (fines), my printed notes, my cash, my cane. And pay. Get a receipt.
5 minutes at the counter.
Walk out with my kids.
35 minutes in total.
For some reasons, it feels like a great accomplishment.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Speed or not
Driving here is easier than driving in China. But one of those driving surprise and distinctive difference here is the "fiscalisaçao". This is a speed control cars are subjected to when driving around the District Federal and more intensely around Brasilia. At every street corner and at about every 500 m there is a surveillance camera recording the cars' speed. Fortunately, the cameras are not really hidden. Large signs announce the coming fiscalisaçao, and their location is often joined with a large portal with a LED sign indicating your actual speed - and de facto telling you if you are going to get a fine.
In practice, on the road, it also means that cars speed between the cameras and suddenly puts the brakes on and drive very slow for about 200 m after which they will resume speeding again. When arriving here, I saw them as hazardous drivers. Later, I caught myself behaving in a similar fashion. Yesterday, on a local expat's forum, I found a newcomer's question regarding the meaning of this strange driving behavior and laugh; the writer did not know about the hidden cameras.
In the end, a driver following the flow of traffic will naturally come to follow the cadence imposed by the cameras, and slow at the needed points. A little extra caution is needed to match the required speed, sometimes very low. Indeed, the problem is that the speed limits are often extremely low (some places up to 40 km/h) following areas where the limit is 80. And there is little mercy, with only a couple of extra km/h of margin before getting fined.
In the end, a driver following the flow of traffic will naturally come to follow the cadence imposed by the cameras, and slow at the needed points. A little extra caution is needed to match the required speed, sometimes very low. Indeed, the problem is that the speed limits are often extremely low (some places up to 40 km/h) following areas where the limit is 80. And there is little mercy, with only a couple of extra km/h of margin before getting fined.
Indeed, the cameras can catch a car "speeding" at 72 km/h on a 70 km/h zone, and a generous fine of 85 Reais ($US 43) will follow. It is one of the most effective things here in Brasilia, to my knowledge. The first day I took the car, I also got fined for driving and talking with my cell phone. My first driving month was a baptism by fire, I collected for over 700 reais of fines. Let me tell you I quickly learned to identify these thorny camera spots. A useful tool to know when to slow down is Waze, this iphone crowd-source app where you can know about traffic jams, cameras and other important things. (If I mention this here it is because normal GPS do not really work here in Brasilia, when you input an address you end up somewhere else than expected).
Once a car plate caught on camera, a note is sent to the mail to advise the driver. It is then possible to "debate" its validity. You might ask what is there to argue, specially when there is a picture of your car with a specific time and date attached to it? But you might not be the driver, maybe someone else. It is useless to take the first note to the bank, it is merely a piece of information, I later learned. A few months later an official note is sent by mail, confirming the actual fine. I learned, after standing in line for one another hour that even if this paper is the final bill, you can't use it to pay, neither at your bank or at the emitting bank. The clerk, who clearly understood I was clueless, took time to explain to me the process, and the impression of a special notice from the internet. I needed to go home, find the internet page, print, take cash with me and return another time during office hours. After standing in line in three separate occasions, for a total of 3 hours (give or take), I had not yet succeeded to pay my fines.
I have been calling these my banking woes. They are the little thorns in my Brazilian life here. But I assume with time they will get less and less numerous and painful.
Learning what to do with all these things - which bank, which paper, when, are all part of this "learning curve" an expat has to take to integrate in his new country. It takes time. And patience.
Rachel here wrote a nice post about similar expat issues.
I have been calling these my banking woes. They are the little thorns in my Brazilian life here. But I assume with time they will get less and less numerous and painful.
Learning what to do with all these things - which bank, which paper, when, are all part of this "learning curve" an expat has to take to integrate in his new country. It takes time. And patience.
Rachel here wrote a nice post about similar expat issues.
Saturday, May 18, 2013
National Theatre Classical Evening
Brasilia, from the first glance, does not give the impression of a very culturally vibrant city - I mean, no offense, it is not London or Paris or New York, where trends and modes are set and cultural events known worldwide. Yet the city is fairly generous culturally, with a number of venues are of great quality (like at the CCBB, which I have written about a few days before), and now and then very nice show and concerts are presented. This couple weeks, there is a series of events sponsored by the European Commission, with shows, concert, theater and more. We ended up for a free concert at the National Theater.
It is just impossible for me to go to these buildings and have my trained eye to not focus on a number of "bothersome" elements. It is something we label "deformation professionelle" in French... The experience of the National Theatre, like many other of Niemeyer buildings, feels like if the architect imagined some form and volumes, in this case the entry and the spacial experience - but limited himself to that, not taking much time on detailing. It feels a bit as if the visitor was robbed of something that should have been. In my opinion, good buildings are buildings that are "resolved problems" at all scales - at least this is what I learned in school.
The volume of the National Theater a truncated pyramid with three of its facades covered by a pattern of very large squares evenly distributed on the inclined faces, a work by Athos Bulcao. These patterns create a very nice play of shadows at the end of the day. The theatre is nested in the middle of spaghetti of large arteries in the city center, with a parking lot in its back, on the Exio Monumental. Consequently, the entrance to the theatre is a little strange; one can either enter through a backdoor or walks in the dirt around the building until the main lobby. I prefer using the back door, away from the cars, even if it means walking up and down ramps through a long set of bleak meandering spaces, my way of playing behind Niemeyer's back. Once in the lobby, a pleasant lush greenhouse, the space is filled by lines of very nicely dressed up people (lines are common in the Brazilian system). As with all my previous visits, once passed the doors to the concert hall, I am always surprised to experience the contrast between the lobby and the main space, in terms of finishes and detailing. Once passed a set of "normal concert hall doors", we enter into a fairly dark carpeted space, and rapidly we are brought onto a ramp that spirals down, in the dark, into the concert hall seating area. Scarily enough the ramp has no handrails, and nothing to really differentiate its edges from the ground below (which prompted the current management group to add a set of these cheap plastic floor lights garlands along the edges of the ramp). The spiral twists a full turn before landing at the top of the row of seatings, in a low open space of large dimensions, maybe larger than the stage itself. People gather in this low volume during the intermissions, in a low lighting and worn out carpet, with a plunging view above the seated crowed towards the stage and the light. Steep steps to the seats, which let us experience the years passed and the fact that each generation gains a few inches in height from one another... Seated, I am able to judge the main volume of the hall, a simple concrete box with wood paneling for acoustic purposes. The stage is also simple and efficient, which pleases my architectural taste buds.
Entering the aztec volume, spiraling down in the dark to the concert hall. Voilà!
Fortunately, my architectural eye took a little break while we really enjoyed this classical concert.
It is just impossible for me to go to these buildings and have my trained eye to not focus on a number of "bothersome" elements. It is something we label "deformation professionelle" in French... The experience of the National Theatre, like many other of Niemeyer buildings, feels like if the architect imagined some form and volumes, in this case the entry and the spacial experience - but limited himself to that, not taking much time on detailing. It feels a bit as if the visitor was robbed of something that should have been. In my opinion, good buildings are buildings that are "resolved problems" at all scales - at least this is what I learned in school.
The volume of the National Theater a truncated pyramid with three of its facades covered by a pattern of very large squares evenly distributed on the inclined faces, a work by Athos Bulcao. These patterns create a very nice play of shadows at the end of the day. The theatre is nested in the middle of spaghetti of large arteries in the city center, with a parking lot in its back, on the Exio Monumental. Consequently, the entrance to the theatre is a little strange; one can either enter through a backdoor or walks in the dirt around the building until the main lobby. I prefer using the back door, away from the cars, even if it means walking up and down ramps through a long set of bleak meandering spaces, my way of playing behind Niemeyer's back. Once in the lobby, a pleasant lush greenhouse, the space is filled by lines of very nicely dressed up people (lines are common in the Brazilian system). As with all my previous visits, once passed the doors to the concert hall, I am always surprised to experience the contrast between the lobby and the main space, in terms of finishes and detailing. Once passed a set of "normal concert hall doors", we enter into a fairly dark carpeted space, and rapidly we are brought onto a ramp that spirals down, in the dark, into the concert hall seating area. Scarily enough the ramp has no handrails, and nothing to really differentiate its edges from the ground below (which prompted the current management group to add a set of these cheap plastic floor lights garlands along the edges of the ramp). The spiral twists a full turn before landing at the top of the row of seatings, in a low open space of large dimensions, maybe larger than the stage itself. People gather in this low volume during the intermissions, in a low lighting and worn out carpet, with a plunging view above the seated crowed towards the stage and the light. Steep steps to the seats, which let us experience the years passed and the fact that each generation gains a few inches in height from one another... Seated, I am able to judge the main volume of the hall, a simple concrete box with wood paneling for acoustic purposes. The stage is also simple and efficient, which pleases my architectural taste buds.
Entering the aztec volume, spiraling down in the dark to the concert hall. Voilà!
Fortunately, my architectural eye took a little break while we really enjoyed this classical concert.
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