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.

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!

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". 

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.

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.

Beavers

Little beavers are having the genes of their mommy architect. Lego houses, houses under the table and houses out of bedsheets, my kids are building building building!

Self-Image

There is something about being young, really young, and still having a very positive image of oneself.  As parents, we all hope to provide our little ones with the necessary tools so they love themselves the way they are, with their special talents and their little flaws. We know too well that as we get older our own flaws become exaggerated by our personal experiences, our lack of self-esteem and often by our desire to achieve some abstract form of perfection given by the media. Sadly this distorted image of oneself we carry within us is too often far from the reality. Did you see the Dove test?
In art, self-portrait is one of the most common type of work, yet certainly one that is very challenging. "Draw what you see!" was saying my old drawing teacher at McGill, Gerry Tondino. The simple challenge of drawing what is in front of your eyes is then increased tenfolds when you stand in front of a mirror. Yet when Deborah gave my boys a paper, a pen and a mirror, and with a little guidance, they were able to draw the most lovable self-portraits ever!
 

Self-Image

The kids have been doing art classes with Deborah for the last 8 months, and it feels like they are getting a good hand at it. When she started them on the idea of self-portrait I did not expect much. And here it is: pretty amazing!

Becoming more French than the French

Our house has an amazing garden in the back, but we do not go there enough. The kids are happy to have a green and flat yard to play football. We received a set of balls a few days ago, and now the backyard has also become a pétanque yard. By a chance I imported a bottle of pastis from China!

Flying High

So despite the odds (a broken foot, a kid with a plastered arm, a 23 hour journey), I would not cancel this trip. Kids are off school for two weeks - French system oblige - and what am I going to do with them during all that time, specially with the rainy season that is stretching itself well into April? So off we go!
Travel tips for parents of young kids: take all the screens you can - for us it was one portable DVD reader and its DVD selection, and fully charged with games, 2 ipods and one ipad (without counting my own computer). Bring unusual snacks (M&Ms, new types of cookies, raw veggies), some new workbooks, stickers, small cars (take a count before each landing). Take the usual suspects (doudous or blankies). Socks, light long sleeves. A book. And then, broken foot oblige, reserve a wheelchair service with the airline (luxury!). And some patience too. At take off, a glass of some alcoholic beverage if you can. 
We did get a little delay in Sao Paolo, waiting from midnight until 4 before flying out towards Rome yikes! I had initially booked my tickets for them to sleep on flight. They ended up being so lovely, coloring, watching DVDs or playing on the ithings - thank you airport power outlets. The good thing with this delay: my boys were fast asleep on the second leg, faster than the boarding. We later needed to wait one hour in Rome for a wheelchair (which delayed our flight), but the plane waited, and I could drink a real italian cappuccino (ooh! joy!)... We also were able to get various rides in the process: bus, train, small electric car, mommy's wheelchair - what fun! The grand finale: our welcome committee waiting for us in TLV airport - everyone was relieved, happy and excited to be together again.

Testing the Medical System

Certainly some things we wish not to test, namely the medical system. But when Emmanuel fell from a trampoline, we had to. And later I had to for my foot, but that is a different story. It was not our first time to visit doctors here, but it was certainly our first time at the hospital.
After checking with friends, I chose to go to a private hospital, Santa Lucia. Right next door there is another one named Santa Luzia, not to mix up. So we arrived there on a Saturday noon, with a set of comforting stuff animals.  It was thankfully quiet. The hospital has a special emergency section just for kids, and couple with good cartoons on television, it greatly reduces the wait. We were sent almost immediately to the orthopedic section, and for an Xray. The poor kid did not appreciate the session, but we were able to assess that his little elbow was not broken, that everything was in place. Probably it badly sprained, the doctor suggested immobilization to allow rest for the arm. It took a couple of days for Emmanuel to realize that the cast was not going to come off just like that.
I later went to get him a special plastic protector for the water, so he could still take a bath, a shower or even play in the water. It restored the smile of the little acrobat.

The Best Birthday

There is one spot near our house we should have visited earlier: the Jardim Botanico. It is ridiculously close. I mean it is next to our neighbor's house! The entrance is a little up on the main road, so we need to take the cars (if we want to go with the kids), but it is really near when comparing to any other Brasilia distance.  And this is where today Noam's classmate had her birthday party. You already know how much I love these already. Yet I have to attest, this was the best birthday ever.
First, it was held in a garden. It means no fancy bars, bartenders. Out the overload of foods and beverages. The mom had covered a few picnic tables with plaid cottons, a few homemade cakes and snacks, and some juices. The tables were set near the playground. There was a couple of fabric banners - not your typical plastic ones with the effigy of a popular hero like Dora or Hello Kitty - but one made of fabric cut out and assembled by hand. And a couple playing guitar and interacting with the kids. That was it. No big table with a million candies. Rather, a great idea, a gingerbread house, that kids smashed with haste and happiness after the required "Parabens" (the local happy Birthday song). A few pieces of "real cake" were distributed from wicker baskets to all the parents who wished. And the thank you gift to the departing guests was a tin can with a few cookies and a few sunflower seeds to plant. An awesome idea!
The best is that this low-key, full energy birthday was a real hit with our kids. They loved it. And parents too, for once!

Sunsets are Girls Colors!

At times, we have pretty deep and interesting conversations in our house. My 3 and half boy has been asking me why he is not a girl, and when he will be one. I have tried to explain to him that he is what he is, yet he comes back regularly with the question. When I ask him why, he tells me it is because he wants to wear skirt and dresses. These are pretty, he says.
So after repeated pleas, mommy went out and procured him the simplest, straightest, frilly-less one. He obviously insisted on wearing it to school the next day. I cringed but decided to let him have his own learning experiences. And I also assumed that his little classmates could not really be too mean towards his difference.
Later that week, my boy's teacher took on to help him understand what is socially acceptable, afraid he would eventually get bullied. She conducted activities in class talking about what is appropriate for each sex, in terms of clothing.
I am not yet convinced it was the way to go - ingraining him with a very "sexist" and binary view of what is right or wrong, of what is acceptable - and not embracing his desire to dress as he pleased, not embracing who he is. In any cases, he is no longer talking about dresses and skirts. And the other day, when me and his brother we were talking about the colors of the sunset - yellow, purple, pink - he plainly said: "these are girl colors!"

Seder

Juggling this religion multiplicity in a multicultural family and environment is a balancing act. And at times there are friends or organizations who are able to provide a lifeline, making the exercise one that is meaningful and fun.

Here it is where we celebrated the best Seder with another mixed faith family. The selections of songs came from a american kids book, and we measured our success when my boys were caught signing the songs in the car the next day! My big boy also loved the fast track approach, making the entire meal a rather pleasant one. 

It is All in the Icing

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

Playdates

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

Playdates

So what can one do every afternoons with two small boys with this weather??
Here I have a lot of impeding factors:
- my smallest is too young to join all these "clubes" where they proposed sport activities - capoeira, football, swimming, gymnastic. When he is four it will be easier.
- the layout of the city, and the area where we live do not provide outdoor playgrounds that are convenient. In Beijing we used to meet friends outside and below our tower, there were always a few playing in the shared structures. Here if there is a playground or two in Lago Sul, they will be empty mostly because nobody wants to drive to a playground located along a main road full of traffic and exposed to the blasting sun. Furthermore most people have nice gardens and prefer staying home. Therefore the social aspect of going to the playground is obsolete.
- and in any cases, this is the rainy season and most times playing outside is not really an option.
- but unlike Beijing, indoor playgrounds are limited in numbers, they are usually in the city (count the km) and in malls. I try to avoid.
- and being between holidays (Christmas and Carnival) there is little options to organize art classes home.
That said, each kids has a good number of friends. So I started inviting them at turns at home, to entertain each others. There was that day when I ended up having three over, and for longer than expected. But in most cases, it is bliss for them (and for me). The kids are playing together quietly, busy building lego worlds, playing doctor, making a mess or just watching a movie. See how happy they are.

Wet

Before our departure, it had been raining for a while. So I was expecting sunny weather upon our return, as I was assuming that "summer" in Brazil coincided with sun. Isn't that we keep the best time of the year to take kids off school for two months? Just to clarify, living in the southern hemisphere means having upside down seasons, and also upside down school holiday calendar. In other words, the Brazilian summer is also coinciding with Christmas. Therefore, kids here, in the Brazilian school system, are off for two full months. And they will only get two weeks off in July.
So I had imagined that these kids would get a hot sunny summer holiday. Well, no. Poor kids. January is a rainy month. I mean, rains are more like downpours. Or like a bucket of water falling on our head. Tropical rains. Lots of wind and horizontal rain. And many times, a grizzle of rain, more like Vancouver's grey grizzle. And most times, a sky covered in clouds and grey. And more humidity than ever before. I found today a pair of shoes that started collecting mold. A reminder of my days in Congo, where wood furniture, clothes, books, leather articles were all rotting.
But I feel we are lucky. Our kids are back in school, so I only have to manage their activities in the afternoon, not all day like the Brazilian moms... And our house has so many windows opening to our lush garden that it is actually very enjoyable to be home, and to watch it fall outside. When it is not raining here, we can see in the distance the clouds moving over the city and discharging themselves on one Asa or the other, depending on the moment. It is very pristine.
And furthermore, it is easier to keep the house clean... My little monkeys are mostly playing inside, enjoying their many toys received over Christmas.
But don't misunderstand me. When the rainy season comes to an end, we will all be happy...

Athos Bulcao

Brasilia is a city withholding many hidden treasures. Athos Bulcao is one of these major contributor  to the creation of the city, yet his name and work are unknown by most.  This lack of fame is only paralleled by his immense legacy, with more than 80 buildings around the city integrating his ceramic artwork, reliefs and mosaics. The creative patterns he played with, their vibrant colors and their playful combination have also illuminated many of the works of Niemeyer. The French school also has a few of his work integrated into its buildings (but not from Niemeyer).
Bulcao does not believe in inspiration. For him, there is talent and hard work. "Art is cosa mentale" he says, quoting Leonardo da Vinci.
I am quoting here this interesting site:
It was Niemeyer who brought Bulcão to Brasilia, having met him as early as 1943. (...) Bulcão once likened their relationship to that between filmmaker Federico Fellini and composer Nino Rota: Bulcão worked to create graphic moments inside of Niemeyer’s volumes — which might mean designing a room divider, a bas-relief or a tile composition to cover a wall. At times Bulcão’s work calls to mind the math-play of Max Bill, or the generative iterations of Sol Lewitt. Bulcão’s orientation was not so much artistic as architectural, and the net effect is nothing short of mesmerizing.
Here is few images of his work:

Thank you Google. 
I came across the work of this important artist because of my kids and their teacher. At first I heard them pronounced this strange name (a-tos-boo-con). Then slowly, after numerous collages and drawings brought home, I came to interest myself a bit more about Bulcao's legacy. And slowly, we have started to spot Bulcao's work here and there around the city. Emmanuel is best at pointing it out.
Only today I realized that the entire primary school was in fact creating and working following Bulcao's inspiration. A group called Triade was invited to familiarized the students with the artist's work, and learn from him in various workshops and ateliers.  Interestingly, Triade received several recognitions for its contribution to the promotion of the historic heritage of the city.  Here is a little movie about how Triade is working with the students.
Today by accident we came across Niemeyer's Igrejigha - the tiny chapel with lyrical proportions - in the asas. We stopped, paused in front of the azulejos (ceramic tiles), and felt happy to live in such an interesting place.  Later, this interesting exhibition of our children's work gave us something more to be proud of.

A New Addition to Our (Extended) Family

While we were busy entertaining our guest, my brother and my sister-in-law were busy welcoming to the world their latest realization: little baby Romane, a cute little bundle of joy of 9.98 pounds (4.53 kg), born on November 23, at 11:19PM.
I can't wait to hold her in my arms!