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!

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!

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

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.

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. 

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.

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.

Trailing Low

I woke up feeling crapy, wondering if this tightness on my chest will turn into a normal cold or into pneumonia. So I laid low most morning.
After lunch, a friend came by to drop her kid for play date with my boys. Since returning from our travels, my boys have been in Lego LaLa Land, playing hours non-stop, almost making me feel obsolete. So the idea of a play date while feeling unwell is not really dreadful, as their little friend is as much of a Lego passionate as them. And my dear Empregada is watching.
Yet I was enjoying my decaf when the mom and son pair came in, and used this as an excuse to get some company to my sipping. We nicely chatted about mundane things. Then she eventually opened up, talking about her own difficulties to be an efficient, productive, home-based contractual working mom. And self-estime issues related to performing such role.
In this life, where simple errants require logistics and planning (ever gone to the bank for 2 hours? or twice a week? or driven 10 km for it?), it is not difficult for me to equally feel incompetent at performing the regular stuff. In a way, since I arrived here, I have been mostly absorbed with mundane things in the morning, and kids care for the rest of the day.
It brings me back to two elements: self-confidence and work. Since I started my expatriate life, I have met many types of expat wives (the trailing spouses, as we are often labeled). Those who try to keep a professional life, and adapt their career and occupation to their new surroundings, despite the odds. And those who, for various reasons, decide to just make the best of their situation, without a professional take on their occupation - either by painting, golfing, charity work, coffees and chats, language learning, sewing, shopping, hosting, knitting, writing, you name it. In Beijing I even met a group of women, self-labelled "snitch and bitch", meeting around a yarn in a coffee shop. These women who give up their careers are not always doing it by choice, but they seems to enjoy much better time during their posting.  I guess I have a guilt factor that hinder fully enjoying these activities as full time ones.
As women who studied for a long time, and worked hard to get (close to have) a career, we give a great value to what we do, and it is always a little difficult to be reduced to be "the wife of" and to really only be remarkable for the quality of your housekeeping skills. 
So many of us will try really hard to keep at it, sometimes working remotely, sometimes creating a new career path, sometimes accepting work conditions we would usually rebuke, sometimes creating our own business. Sometimes it is easier, as we have a comparative advantage - maybe our language skills, maybe our own international experience. But most time it won't be easy. 
My friend's pain certainly comes from working in isolation, on tight deadlines, in a very competitive environment where she is somewhat disadvantaged, by working remotely and intermittently. I share her pain. I have experienced this in China, and now, although I am not officially working, I am somewhat feeling this, the disadvantage and the loneliness of writing articles on my own. The feeling of not really being able to realize oneself fully, professionally and/or personally, and to feel lost or forgotten behind the action.
But in fact this post will probably need to be expanded later, as there is so much to be said about being a working mother, a home-based working mom (there is a contradiction just in this label), and a mutant-always-reinventing-yourself-professional due to our constant rotation of postings linked to our expatriate status. Have you ever imagine how much energy it takes? Maybe that is why today I just laid low in the morning. That felt better.

Those Things we Take for Granted

In the list of things we take for granted, there is the box of plastic film with the little metal cutter. Sounds like a petty thing, but really, cutting the plastic film again over the food once again and again without being able to do it in a clean way, with a little cutting edge incorporated into the box, is indeed some kind of luxury. Yes these "modern" boxes are available in some, but not all, grocery stores. But finding them is an exercise, and keeping them, is, indeed, a special task. And living without them is a zen exercise. Ask my dad and June.

Pool Work

When we were negotiating with our landlord, we briefly talked about the pool. He said that there was no solar heating system for it. What I missed is that there was also not filtration system. With its dimensions of 20 m by 5 m, it is probably one of the largest dengue mosquito breading pond in the area.
The filter-less pools are not really unusual here. Many young men make a living cleaning these pools, driving around beaten up cars, motorcycles or even bicycles. They are easily recognizable with the long pole and its nets and brushes attached on their vehicle.
Despite our attempts to keep a clean pool, whether spraying chlorine and chemicals, brushing, vacuuming and flushing water, we only were able to reach various shades of green, not really a crystal clear water. At some point, we even turned it a pretty lime green, and were able to get a little tickle on our skin with all these brews. Which eventually helped us conclude for our need of a real filtration system.
So I did my homework and visited about every pool store in the area to get pricing. Obviously what appears simple here is not.
The first issue is technical: the pool is already fitted with a machine space in the back, and some pipes. However, these are not done correctly and some changes are needed before the installation of a filter. Then there is the risk of using a set of pipes that have been buried for ten years. Any kind of problem with them would require digging, and consequently destroying the patio brick floor treatment.
The second is just brazilian: getting a quote is not difficult. Finding a person that is reliable and decently priced a little more tricky. One of the largest and best located store in Lago Sul send me their technical guy to check things out. He was supposed to come back with a construction guy to do some further estimates. By the time they both came, a month had passed (call that the brasilian time zone!) and I had gone to three other stores, sure that they were avoiding me.
In the end, Severino was my man. His suggestion also was wise: a set of hydraulic stairs, which circulate the water to the pump was the least involved option for us, avoiding the possible risk of defect of the existing system, and the resale possibility when we leave (as we are dishing the dinheiros for this).  Despite delays in his schedule and some small details (my garden suffered a bit), the pool finally is clean. What a relief!

I guess it is not mine

Here in Brazil, there are things I cannot hold.  Time is a commodity that is elastic, ever-expanding and without limits. It is really hard to imagine something like this when we are outside Brazil. Even for us who lived in places supposedly "less hectic " or more "laid back" such as Africa. That, combined to a real love for useless administrative procedures and paperwork, you are well served.
What does it means in practical terms?

• It means that a person who tells you that he will come at your place (to fix something, to deliver something) might show up 3 hours late. Or 2 days later. Even 3 weeks later. Yes it happened to me. 
• It means that if you call to inquire about their delay, people tell you they are coming, and still never show up.
• It means that, at the grocery, in the Express line, you are bound to take longer than the other lines. I mean, other normal lines in other countries. If there would be such things as cashier speed competitions.
• It means that the cashier might stop in the middle of your transaction to discuss holidays or other important issues with her supervisor.
• It means that while you wait at the cashier of the hyper/super/normal market you can make friends with your fellow consumers waiting with you.
• It means that if you stand in line at the cashier, the person in front of you might as well go back to her car pick up her wallet she forgot while the cashier (and you) patiently keep waiting for her to return to complete the transaction.
• It means that the person in front of you in line might not become your friend after all.
• It means that if you go take an appointment to the dentist, and need to see the hygienist, the secretary will offer you two different times on two different days, with no understanding of what you are trying to ask for when you say you want to see them at the same time - meaning the same day.
• It means that if you ask your staff to do something, it might get done, but certainly not right away.
• It means that if you buy something and you need to return it, you might have to go through a loop of a few counters, papers and wait before being able to retrieve your money. If.
• It means that if buy things that need to be picked up in the store room, you are bound to wait for a few minutes. And that if the person at the counter is also the one fetching things for you, you are bound for an even longer wait.
• It means that when it is a national holiday it is a really bad occasion to do what all Brazilian are doing, whether it is going to the beach, take the plane or rent a car. The later two specially as they involve waiting in line.
• It means that if you go to a show, you might see it the next day. I swear, it happened to us last nigth! (see below).
• It means that if you imagine completing a number of errants in the morning, you are bound for failure, either because they are out of the specifics (how can a city be out of red onions?), because you wait at the cash (read above), or because you can't find parking (always). Combine the three in various order of importance and multiply by the number of errants = FAIL.
• It means banks only open at 11 and close at 4. And that after 3 there are a number of transactions that cannot be done anymore. 
• It means that if you go to the bank you might half of their opening hours to complete all your transactions. (I will write a full post on banking very soon). 
• It means that if you are invited to a party (specially a birthday party) and you arrive 30 minutes late, you might be the first one.
• It means that if you invite people home, if they are Brazilian, they might come with more than one hour late. They might also come with other unannounced friends.
• It means that if you invite expat guests they might come one time, a bit late or very late, and it is impossible to know. The same when you are invited to an expat dinner. How late should we come to not be the firsts ones to arrive?

• It means that you might see the repair guy that you waited for all morning arriving when you are just getting out to fetch the kids from school, and that you can tell him to wait just a few 15-20 minutes. And that when you return 40 minutes later, he is still there waiting for you. That is when I love Brazil.

This is us patiently waiting for Seu Jorge's show to start. The artist, scheduled for 10 PM did not show up until 1:45 AM. By that time we were leaving to release our babysitter.