All Hallows Eve

Tomorrow is Hallowe'en. Although Hallowe'en is not traditionally celebrated in Brazil or the rest of Latin America (well, at least not the North American version. Many Latin American countries do celebrate a full-fledge Day of the Day, during which families go to the cemetaries with picnics and music to visit with their ancestors. Some will dress up so as to confuse the grim reaper himself), it has grown in popularily considerably in the last few years. One of my neighbours was trying to organize enough of the condominium's residents so that her kids could go trick-or-treating. I easily agreed that I would buy some candy and participate.

Then on Wednesday evening, a sheet of paper inviting residents to participate in the trick-or-treating ritual was pushed under my door. The paper instructed me to respond by email to the organizer (someone other than my neighbour) by 5pm on Thursday to confirm my participation. As work is quite busy these days, I did not get around to sending her an email and figured that I would buy some candy on Saturday, hang the pumpkin picture outside my door on Sunday and wait for the kiddies to arrive. Then last night (Friday), I went over to my neighbour's house to pick up some documents. A few floors down, a ten-year old witch got into the elevator with me. How confusing! No doubt she had another Hallowe'en party to go to. However, as we continued the ride down the elevator, I pulled out the invitation and saw that infact, hallowe'en had been organized for Oct. 29th and not the 31st! So there I was with no pumpkin and no candy. I would apologize to the children of Santa Elena (the condos where I live), however, I did see some very full loot bags, so I think that in the end there was enough candy to go around!

Embassy Furniture

Anyone who has been on a posting with the Canadian government already knows that the furnishings provided in the staff quarters (SQ) leave a lot to be desired. Now normally the Canadian government does an okay job on the houses or apartments themselves. Location, they are not always so good at as we have seen, but in terms of size and comfort, they do pretty well. The furnishings, on the other hand are -- how can I put this gently -- abominable. Whether you are posted in New York, Paris, or Rome or Harare, Port au Prince, or Dhaka, you will have the same lacquer dinner room table, the same matching buffet and hatch, and the same forgettable coffee and end tables. The couches and sofas will vary in colour and perhaps pattern, but essentially these are the same furnishings that one would have expected to find gracing a hotel lobby in the early 1980s.

The furniture is bought in Canada and shipped around the world so that expatriate Canadians won’t feel lonely or out of place. It’s always a bit of a competition between officers to see who managed to get decent furniture. I didn’t do too badly this round. The furniture in the guest room is quite reasonable. Even nice. My kitchen furniture is also funky – although I was recently informed that it was bought locally. Ahhhh.....

The items that are continuously classified as the worst are the lamps. I do not feel sorry for these lamps. I do feel sorry for the lamp in the IKEA commercial though. Poor little lamp, all alone in the rain. On the other hand, these SQ lamps should never have existed in the first place. Ever. I am not even sure that hotels buy these lamps. In fact, the only reason these lamps probably exist at all is that the Canadian government buys them en masse and sends them around the world. When I arrived, I was lucky enough to count seven of these creations in my midst. One of my first stops upon arrival was to Tok e Stok, a furniture store a notch or two above IKEA. It turned out that Tok e Stok had an excellent selection of interesting lamps and I stocked up – as the name suggests. Although I cannot afford to replace all the lamps, I have replaced a few key ones. The original lamps, bless their souls, now reside in the otherwise empty maid’s room. At least I am using it wisely!

yowbooks

One of the things that I was quite sad to leave behind when I moved to Brazil was my bookclub, affectionately known as yowbooks -- YOW being the airport code for Ottawa. The brainchild of my friends Kim and Teresa and me, the club has been in operation since April 2001. We've read some great stuff and yes, we've read some pretty horrid stuff as well. Now, unfortunately for all my friends who are in other bookclubs, there is no doubt that yowbooks is the funkiest and hippest bookclub in town. Just before I left, we had the Book Club Gala. The Gala was a Black Tie/costume soirée/award ceremony in which awards were presented for our favourite, and least favourite, books, characters, scenes, etc. The bookclub executive compiled a shortlist of books for each category [overall best book, best lead character male, best lead character female, best lead character animal, worst overall book, most surprising book, best romantic scene, ...] and then the lists were open for voting. Some results were a surprise, others were cheered by all. In all, it was a lot of fun and a great last in-person meeting for me.

I say in-person, as we have figured out a way for me to continue being an active participant in yowbooks during my hiatus from Ottawa. Three essential components are involved: i) the dipbag; ii) a speaker phone; and iii) a cheap phone card. Essentially, the current book will be sent to me in Sao Paulo via the Diplomatic Bag and then with the help of a little bit of technology, I will join the bookclub via teleconference (a $5 phone card gives us hours and hours of phoneline). Last night was our first essaie. It was okay -- although things would have gone a bit smoother, had bookclubber Larry brought a real speaker phone and not just an I-can-listen-to-my-messages-aloud-but-nothing-else-phone. So the book club could hear me, but I couldn't hear them. The compromise was to take me off the speaker and let me listen through the ear piece. If I wanted to intervene, I would press a key and then talk. It was okay for a pilot project. However, now that we know that not all speaker phones are created equal, we will be ready for the next meeting. Now I just have to wait for the Dipbag to arrive!

Brasilia

I'm currently in Brasilia for meetings at the Canadian Embassy. Brasilia is a bit of an odd place -- built out of nothing, in the middle of nowhere, in approximately three years, in the early sixties. On paper, the ideas behind Brasilia seem revolutionary. The city is divided into sectors. There's the hotel sector, the government sector, the residential sector, the embassies sector, the sporting club sector, etc. The residential sectors are divided into blocks or quadras, with each quadra having a grouping of apartment buildings as well as its own little commercial street. The idea being that people who live in the quadras will patron the businesses in their commercial sector. It sounds so good! Unfortunately, the chance of your commercial sector having the business you need at the moment, is low. And everything else is far. Far, far, far. Aside from the quadras, Brasilia was built for cars. Distances are enormous and sidewalks are non-existent. The transportation system consists of highway-type roads with off-ramps, roundabouts, and "retornos" -- essentially ways of turning left without intersections or lights. For a city of two million, there are very few traffic lights. There's no downtown or city centre, although a couple of the quadras have managed to build up a critical mass of restaurants and bars.

Brasilia was commissioned by then president Juscelino Kubitscheck, and Lucio Costa, an urban planner, Oscar Niemeyer, an architect, and Burle Marx, a landscape artist, formed the planning team that won the competition to build the city. Brasilia does indeed have many interesting architectural buildings and features. Unfortunately, each interesting building tends to stand alone in a vast plain of emptiness and the whole is not equal to the sum of the parts. However, one should not completely write off Brasilia. It still has many restaurants and there is access to cultural activities, concerts, and shows. It is just that everything is so far apart and there is lots of barren space between buildings and sector. A bit of a strange concept indeed!

There are two hotels that we use in Brasilia. The first is Naoum Plaza, which is in the hotel sector and across the street from a shopping centre. An ex-colleague of mine would rave about Naoum Plaza being the best place to stay in town. Since distances are so far and nights in Brasilia tend to be, ummm, relatively calm, at least there is the mall for entertainment. The second hotel is the Blue Tree Park, which is perhaps the best hotel in town. The Embassy discount makes it even more affordable than Naoum Plaza. The Blue Tree (which is actually red) is located next to the President's residence, quite literally in the middle of nowhere. It is on the edge of Brasilia's man-made Lake Lago Paranoa and is the weekday home to many of Brazil's members of congress and senators who commute to Brasilia during the week. For me, the Blue Tree embodies Brasilia. It is sleek and modern. The front lobby has a minimalist but funky/modern decor. The comforts are second to none -- the duvets and pillows are the best I have ever seen (or felt) in a hotel. However, also like Brasilia it is isolated and in the middle of nowhere. The only reason to drive past the Blue Tree would be if you were staying there. So the question is, do you want a great sleeping experience but have to take a cab to get anywhere else, or, do you want a lesser sleeping experience with access to some forms of entertainment and life ....

First Visitor!

Four days after arriving in São Paulo, my first visitor arrived. In fact, my colleague and friend Eliane had already been in Brazil for three weeks on a work-related trip. The São Paulo portion of her visit happily coincided with my arrival. It was great to have a friend visit so soon after my arrival as it gave me the impetus to get out of the house, explore the city a little bit, go out for some terrific food, and checkout the local moviehouse.

On the weekend that Eliane was leaving, we decided to go to Guaruja, the closest beach to São Paulo. We hopped a bus early Saturday afternoon and headed towards the coast. We hadn't arranged any accommodation in Guaruja, despite the fact that it was a long weekend in Brazil and many Paulistanos (inhabitants of the city of São Paulo) were heading in the same direction. On the bus, we ended up talking to the people sitting around us who counseled us not to head to the beach we were thinking of due to potential dangers of robbery and assault. Not really knowing how seriously to take their advice, we decided to play it safe and stick to a beach closer to town.

Upon arrival in Guaruja, we shared a taxi into town with one of the women on the bus and she dropped us off at a small hotel near the beach. As we suspected, the hotel was full. The woman working there called all the rest of the hotels in the area, which, as it turns out, were also full. A final call was placed to a friend of hers who had an empty apartment that she had not yet managed to rent out since the previous tenant left a month or two prior. The apartment was available, the friend came to pick us up, took us to see the apartment, then took us back to her place to pick up some linens, and then took as back to the apartment. The apartment was sparsely furnished, but would do the trick for a night. Safe in the fact that we would have somewhere to sleep, we headed out to explore the town.

Guaruja, isn't the nicest beach in Brazil, however, it is pretty good considering that it is a mere hour from São Paulo. The waves at Praia Tombo were incredible and we spent a few minutes watching a surfing competition. Exploring a bit further, we ended up at Praia Guaiuba which is in a little bay making the waves much smaller, but the experience just as good. It was great to see the water and lie on the beach before heading back to the concrete jungle of São Paulo and of course, it was a pleasure to have Eliane visit for the week!

Sushi

One of the things I love about Brazil is eating sushi. Most people are surprised when I say this since sushi is not what usually comes to mind when one thinks of the sun and sand of Brazil. But those who have been here know that Brazilian sushi is a major attraction. Brazil comes by its sushi honestly. Over the last century, Brazil, and in particular São Paulo, was one of the primary destinations for Japanese immigrants. In fact, over one million Brazilians are of Japanese descent and Brazil accounts for the largest Japanese community outside of Japan. All this leads some pretty excellent Japanese food. A particularly fun place is Na Kombi located in Vila Olimpia: http://www.nakombi.com.br (Strangely enough, this isn't actually too far from my apartment, which is a nice change!). Some of my particular favourites are the Brazilianized sushi rolls which include tropical ingredients such as mangos and strawberries. Yum!

Caipirissima

Brazil's national drink is called the caipirinha. It is made with cachaça (sugarcane alcohol), limes, sugar, and ice. It's a great drink for a warm summer's day, but be careful, it packs a definite punch http://www.cookbrazil.com/caipirinha.htm. Caipirissima, more than just a drink, is a Brazilian state of mind.

One Girl, One Cat, Six Bathrooms (a.k.a the Apartment)

Hello, my name is Karen and I have six bathrooms. There, I’ve said it. I have six bathrooms.

Once upon a time, the Canadian Consulate in São Paulo was on Avenida Paulista, São Paulo’s main drag, smack in the centre of the best part of town. The Canadian staff lived in a neighbourhood called Jardins which is one of the top neighbourhoods in Sao Paulo and was within walking distance from the Consulate (unheard of in Sao Paulo, a city which a mere 18 million call home). Jardims is where it’s at: great eating and cafés, shopping, people watching, shows, concerts, etc. It’s also relatively safe, even for walking at night, which is a nice change. Unfortunately, the Consulate outgrew its physical structure and had to move. The winning choice for the move was a building in Novo Brooklin, one of the city’s southern neighbourhoods. As a result, the Canadian Staff Quarters were also moved one by one to Campo Grande and Santo Amaro, two even more southerly neighbourhoods. The new apartments were deemed to be safer as there is pretty strict control as to who can get in and out. At the time of the move, violence was on the rise in Brazil and São Paulo and the Consulate was concerned about the safety of its employees. As it turned out, even though the new apartments themselves are pretty safe, the neighbourhood is another story. A few weeks after arriving in São Paulo two and a half years ago, my colleague Susan was confronted with a car-jacking and assassination right across the street from the new apartments (don’t worry mom, it was targeted).

One of the consequences of this southerly move is that the apartments are huge. Enormous, in fact. Which is how I ended up with six bathrooms. Each bedroom (four in total) has its own bathroom, then there is a "social bathroom" which is for guests and visitors and then there is the bathroom in the maid’s room. And that makes six. I also have a rather large eat-in kitchen, three (!) living rooms, a dining room, and the laundry room. The maid’s quarters are currently used as the designated ugly furniture storage, but more on that later. In all, the size of the apartment is a rather overwhelming thought when one considers the fact that close to 54 million Brazilians live on less than US$2 a day, 17 million of whom live on less than US$1 a day. A fact that I am confronted with each day, as I pass the city’s favelas (shanty towns) on the way to my fancy office tower each morning.

post scriptum: The sad fact is that the Consulate has recently realised the error of its ways and has moved most of the Canadians out of my neighbourhood and back to Jardins. However, they will not move me since I will only be in São Paulo until next April, after which I will move to Recife in the Northeast. Breaking a new lease after only six month is too expensive to be worth the money :-(

Felix in the Ottawa Airport

Here's Felix after I had to extract him from his cage so that it could checked for explosives. Poor little kitty -- he was not very happy. Some have even mentioned that perhaps I too look a little stressed!

The Cat

Felix, my beloved cat, has come with me to Brazil. It seemed like such a good idea at the time. And it seems like a good idea again, now that I have been here for a couple of weeks, but the process was anything but easy. There is no quarantine for domestic animals being brought into Brazil. There is, however, a rigorous process back in Canada to ensure smooth kitty sailing. First of all, the cat must be up-to-date in all of his vaccinations and must be in good health. Then, no more than seven days prior to traveling, the cat has to get a Certificate of Good Health from the vet which states that the cat has been in good health for the last forty days. This certificate (which of course, costs money), along with his vaccination certificate (which also costs money) must then be brought to Food and Agriculture Canada (is he food or is he agriculture, that's my question) to be certified by a government vet (which of course also costs). This certificate then has to be certified by the Brazilian Embassy (more money). And then you and your beloved kitty can travel to Brazil. Oh, and the airline also charges a hefty fee.

One of the big conundrums prior to traveling with Felix was whether or not I would bring him into the cabin with me or put him in the pet cargo area, tucked away out of sight and in the dark. Of course, the worrier in me wanted him in the cabin so that I could comfort him and keep him company. However, another part of me thought that I would be better off if he were down below. Then I wouldn't spend my time worrying about him. As it turns out, his cage was one inch too tall to slip under the seat in front of me, so the decision was made. Under he went.

Now, some people suggest that pets should be tranquilized prior to flying. However, there is a new wave of thought which is gaining followers which states that it is better not to drug animals since the drugs inhibit their ability to act (or react) but not their ability to perceive. Therefore, an animal will perceive danger or a strange situation, but will not be able to react to this, which causes them to panic even more. Thinking that this was sage advice indeed, I decided not to drug Felix, but rather to give him a quarter of an adult gravol before the flight to settle his little stomach. This experiment did not go as well as hoped. Felix reacted very badly to the gravol and started foaming at the mouth. Not quite the way you want to arrive with an animal in a foreign country, even with all the duly certified documents. Fortunately Felix calmed down 10-15 minutes later and we were on our way to the airport. At the airport I had to pry poor Felix from his cage so that the security guys could check to make sure that his cage was not an explosive device. Nice. Needless to say, Felix was not pleased. The next time I saw him was fifteen hours later when we landed in São Paulo. A little worse for wear, he (and I) survived the flight and headed to our new abode.

The Packers

One feature of the infamous inventory is the process, not only of listing everything you own, but also of categorizing it as to whether or not it will stay in Canada while you are gone and where it will stay (long term storage versus personal storage) or whether it will go with you on your posting and how it will get there (accompanied baggage, air shipment, or sea shipment). The moving company then provides coloured stickers so that its clients can label everything in the house to make things easier for the packers.

Months prior to going on a posting, the Department of Foreign Affairs – also known as Foreign Affairs Canada, or FAC (yes, fodder for a lot of good / bad jokes – depending on for whom you work) – offers a series of courses and seminars that help one prepare for their move overseas. One of these sessions is on the logistics of packing and physically moving yourself and your family overseas. This year’s course was facilitated by a Foreign Service veteran who had many overseas moves under his belt. The stories were incredible. Stories of people’s cars falling off ships or sprouting strange fungal growth while in the container, stories of people forgetting where they had placed ten gas barbeques intended for shipment, and yes, stories of bags of garbage being packed up and sent off to Saudi Arabia by sea. How could this happen, we thought. How could such a mistake possibly be made? Well, I was about to find out. As a friend of mine insightfully pointed out later, “these guys are packers, not sorters”.

As it turns out, surprisingly enough to all who know me, I was not fully ready for the packers when they arrived at my apartment four days before I was to leave the country. I was mostly ready. Many of my prized possessions were labeled. Others were sorted in neat piles according to their eventual destination. However, I was not fully ready and I spent most of the day one step ahead of the two packers. If there is one thing that I can say, it is that these guys are fast. Very very fast. In addition, they do not exercise any judgment over your possessions (at least not while you are there) and they do not question any of your choices as to where objects are going. Essentially, their day consists of taking several sheets of wrapping paper, grabbing whatever object is in sight, wrapping it up and putting it in a box. If there is anything on the table whose destination should clearly be questioned, they are not the ones who are going to do it. And if you turn your back once, go out to the store to buy some cans of Coke, or let your concentration slip for even just a moment, it is highly probably that your garbage or that pile of elastic bands, bread ties, and ATM receipts will end up on their way to Saudi Arabia (or Brazil, in this case). I count myself lucky that I was alert enough to pull one small bag of garbage out of one of the boxes. I can’t remember if it was a box destined for long-term storage or for shipment. Either way, it would have been pretty disgusting. There was no perishable garbage in the bag, but now I understand why things take so long to get through Brazilian customs. They wonder what the heck is up with all the Canadians who keep shipping their refuse to Brazil!

The two fellows who packed up my house were good blokes. However, everyone underestimated the weight of my belongings and in the end, once everything was packed and at the warehouse, the company realized that half of it would have to go by sea. Since we no longer knew what was in any of the boxes, I suggested a lottery for deciding what went where. So whenever it gets here, it will be just like Christmas. Surprises in a box!