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Saturday, August 27, 2005

Was I Robbed or am I Paranoid?

Attn: Post about the darker side of humanity follows, just not sure if is my mine.

If there is one generalisation that I can make about Brazilians [other than their collective sweet tooth] it is that they are a pretty honest lot. Well, okay, maybe not the stray ones who rob you outright, but on the whole, Brazilians from all walks of life are a credible, honest, and generous people. Waiters will chase after you to give you 15 cents in change. Taxi drivers will round down and charge you less than the metre shows (this is also due in part to the small change crisis). Vendors will go out of their way to find your five cents of change. Chambermaids will not take the small change left on the pillow not sure whether it was intended for them or not. That said ....

Ten years ago, when I was living and travelling in El Salvador and Guatemala, we were robbed from our hotel room in the centre of San Salvador. Being recent grads of rather humble means, one of our goals was to spend as little money as possible to sleep at night [I guess it wasn't so much a goal, as it was a means]. A consequence of this strategy was that we often ended up staying in places of questionable repute. Guidebooks on Central America give two main warnings: 1) do not leave anything of value in your hotel room; and 2) do not carry anything of value with you in the streets. Now, maybe it is just me, but these two warnings do not seem to be compatible one with the other. Since Hotels of Questionable Repute rarely have safes, either in the rooms or at the front desk, one ends up making a choice. Our choice in San Salvador was to not carry anything of value with us in the streets.

During this particular stop in El Salvador's capital city, we changed quite a bit of money from travellers' cheques [remember those??] to colones before heading back to our village near the Honduran border. We changed the money, counted the bills, and headed back to the hotel. We stashed our loot deep in our backpacks, carefully placing the surrounding clothes and accoutrements in random-looking, but actually very specific patterns. Oh we were suave. And then we went out to find something to eat. We returned to the hotel several hours later only to discover that the backpack had been carefully rummaged through and that several hundred colones were missing.

Now, this is a favourite strategy of inside jobs. Thieves just skim a little bit of money off your stash so as to create confusion in your mind as to whether or not you have been robbed, or whether or not you just spent more money then you thought. It's a clever technique considering the fact that most people are not fully aware of how much money they have on them at any given time. On the flip side, this technique does not work on people who are tracking their expenditures to a dime [yes, times were rough!] and just changed money at the bank. Needless to say, we moved out of the hotel and headed to a nicer neighbourhood. The new hotel cost a whopping US$22 -- but we decided that the extravagence was worth it. Several other friends of mine have all been robbed in this way from hotel rooms around the world. That said ....

On Thursday morning, knowing that I had several bills to pay and only R$10 to my name, I headed to the bank just after 7am and withdrew R$1000 (CAN$500). Prior to leaving for work, I left R$200 with the cleaning lady. At lunch time, I ate at the restaurant next door and then hopped a cab home and back to pick up a document which I had forgotten [total expense R$25]. At 2pm, I paid the office cleaner R$90. At 3pm, I took another cab [R$25] to go for an interview at a radio station and at 4:45pm, I spent another R$20 on a cab back to the office. Once in the office, I pulled out my wallet to pay a few more bills only to discover that I only had R$400. Simply math led me to the conclusion that I was missing R$250.

Now, like most people, I often wonder where my money goes and how come it goes so quickly. Often, I have to stop to think back on the week's purchases to see if the amounts more or less add up to my cash on hand. But in this case, it hadn't even been ten hours since I withdrew the money, and I had been at the office almost every minute of that time. I racked my brain to think if I could have dropped some bills somewhere; paid another bill which I was not recalling; or whether some money could have fallen between the cushions in one of the cabs. But all the time, my mind kept thinking back to the 30 minutes or so at the radio station when I left my bag in the studio to take a tour of the grounds. Could it be that my money was taken while I was touring the grounds? Or am I truly forgetting something else that I paid? Or did I lose it somewhere between two points? The most unfortunate part of the story is that I had taken out personal money to pay for office expenses to be reimbursed in the next financial reporting period. This was never really an issue in Canada since I use my credit card for almost all my purchases and essentially live a cashless existence. Well, at the very least I learned a lesson. Never ever ever leave your bag unattended, even in a supposedly secure environment. I think that I already knew this lesson. I guess that it just needed some reinforcing.

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Experiments

Yesterday while I was grocery shopping, I bought one of these:



With the idea that I would turn it into this ...



... the dish that we enjoyed at the Ofinica do Sabor last month. After assuming that it couldn't be that hard to make, I ran a quick websearch [clearly the source of all answers] and, low and behold, found a recipe for jerimum recheado com camarão ao creme de manga [pumpkin stuffed with shrimp in a mango sauce] straight from the Oficina's award-winning chef -- yum! And in fact, it really doesn't look all that hard to prepare. Bascially, you cook the pumpkin, cook the shrimp, and then cook the shrimp in the pumpkin. In order to not procrastinate, I purchased the pumpkin so that I would be forced to move into action. The experiment should take place this weekend, so I will keep everyone posted. Ummmm ... if I don't blog for a while ... please notify the Recifensen authorities!

Mystery Solved!

Remember this?


Thanks to the marvels of Flickr and their online photosharing community, the mystery of the burning bus has been solved! Yes, it seems that a photosharer from Rio, who left a comment on my site recently, knew that in fact, the burning buses in Santa Tereza were a promotion for a local band who had recently put out a new album. The cd featured a burning bus on the cover and the band painted flames on the bus stops in their neighbourhood to promote their new product. Apparently neither the band nor the album did very well.... Now, why didn't anyone guess that??

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

It's a Cocophony


More phone-fun from the streets of Recife.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

The Cat's Meow

This is a photo that I took in the town of Caruaru, 135km inland from Recife. Caruaru is reputed to have the biggest outdoor market in Northeastern Brazil / Brazil / Latin America, depending on your sources. In any case, the market is undoubtedly ginormous [actually a word according to Webster's New Millenium Dictionary of English] and has everything that you could possibly think of, including the kitchen sink. In fact, I think that I saw several kitchen sinks for sale! From what I could see, the market sold produce; nuts, beans and pulses; all different kinds of meats and fish; bulk cooking products; clothing as far as the eye could see; household goods; appliances; farm implements; tools, equipment and machinery; some furniture; arts and crafts; and of course ... bulk cat food. And now we know. The mystery of which cat food cats like best has finally been solved! Clearly, this little fellow, who had his pick of the selection, chose to feast himself on Whiskas! Don't tell Felix though, he is an Iams kitty all the way!

Saturday, August 20, 2005

Miracle on Carling Street

When I was back in Canada, I took the opportunity to renew my drivers license. My license had actually expired back in April, but the phone people at the licensing bureau couldn't figure out how to let me renew by distance. The Foreign Service does have an agreement with the Bureau to allow interim long-distance renewal, but clearly the policy is not widely disseminated to staff. In any case, I set aside a few hours during my time in Canada to head over to one of the offices to take care of this adminstrative piece of business. Imagine my intense surprise when the entire process took NINE minutes -- five minutes of waiting in line and four minutes to take my photo and process the renewal. I was floored! Now, I realise that these things are not always so fast in Canada and there have definitely been occasions on which I have walked out of the licensing bureau because of ridicously long queues and processing times [I try not to let my glasses get too rosy!]. However, I suspect that this time around Canada was trying to taunt me with this display of über-efficiency. After adjusting myself to standard wait times in Brazil -- accreditation documents [2 months]; personal identity number [4 months]; diplomatic car purchase [4-9 months]; delivery of air and/or sea shipments [3-4 months]; purchase and delivery of home appliances [22 days]; installation of phone line [21 days -- a tremendous improvement over the until recently two year delay!] -- I could not believe that I had been in and out of the license bureau in ten minutes! Happily enough, this left quite a lot of extra time to get some other errands in, including a food run to pick up products greatly missed by us Canadians.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

A Chair By Any Other Name -- A Caipirissima Poll

Whenever my family gets together, we usually discuss topics of Extreme Importance. For example, one of our discussions at the Cousines' Cottage Weekend 2005 revolved around whether the type of chair pictured here is an Adirondack chair or a Muskoka chair, the Adirondacks being Vermont cottage country and the Muskokas being Ontario cottage country. Growing up, I always called them Adirondack chairs and it was only recently that I discovered that not everyone knew them as such. As it turned out, the name Muskoka chair was also in circulation. Which of course leads to many questions: Who first invented the Adirondack/Muskoka chair? Is there actually a structural difference between the two chairs? Did one cottage-country steal the design and production from the other? Is there a lawsuit going on out there? Do Eastern Canadians call them one name while Western Canadians call them another? Is it only Torontonians and Muskoka cottage-owners who call them Muskoka chairs? Enquiring minds want to know!

Well, although this poll might not answer any of our fundamental questions, it may at least shed some light on patterns of use. Vote early, vote often!


Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Lego my Uno

On the list of Cottage Activities Of Note [CAON] is the fact that we tried a new game! Yes, it is absolutely true. The Cousines opened their minds and souls and played a game other than Uno. For some reason, which I can no longer remember, we play mad crazy games of Uno everytime that the family gets together. These games usually lead to much stomach-hurting laughter, crying [from laughing to much], lobbying, back-stabbing, alliance-making and breaking, and dredging up the same jokes every time. Well ... as fate would have it, no one remembered to bring their copy of Uno! Oh woe was us! But, ever the solution-seeker, Mark, a self-confessed Board Game Geek, attempted to introduce us to a new game. Although I admit that we gave him quite a hard time while he patiently attempted to explain the rules [try explaining rules to a new game to a family that travels thousands and thousands of kilometres just to play Uno], it turned out that we quite enjoyed Saboteur. Or rather, the game of Saboteur was enjoyed by all. In essence, the game is about a group of dwarves mining for gold. But ... among the dwarves are secret saboteurs who are trying to stimy the dwarves efforts. Okay, I admit that my explanation makes it sound a little bit lame, but for my Uno-less family, it offered a fun alternative in a Lobbying, Back-stabbing, Alliance-making and breaking, and Dredging up the same jokes every time kind of way. Two-thumbs up for Saboteur! And kudos to Mark for his patience and humour!

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

The Cousines' Cottage Weekend 2005

One of my main motivations for heading back to Canada two weeks ago was to attend the first official "Cousines' Cottage Weekend" [yes, spelt with an 'e' -- don't ask!].

Back in the 50s, in search of a peaceful getaway, my mom's family bought a piece of land on a small island in the Kawarthas and built a cottage. Since then, several generations have enjoyed spending lazy summer days up at the cottage. This year, for the first time ever "the cousins" decided to head up for a weekend sans adultes.

In the planning for many months, the cousins gathered from around the world ... Vancouver, California, Japan, Ottawa, and of course, Brazil [can you tell that we all come from the same gene pool?]. Busy lives and scheduling challenges meant that not all the cousins were able to join in, but with nine people up, we still managed to be a lively bunch!

One of the legacies of the cottage is that our family has kept a logbook which records each and every visit to the island no matter how long or short. The log is close to fifty years old and every time we visit the cottage we are compelled go over old entries looking for tidbits of information that we may have missed in previous perusals. When did so-and-so's girlfriend-now-wife first come to the cottage? How old was this cousin when she first came up? How old was I when I first managed to waterski? So-and-so went to how many parties? The list goes on! We also enjoy the logbook due to the unique passive voice in which it is written. We did not go swimming. Rather, swimming was enjoyed by all. The weather was not absolutely perfect. Rather, perfect weather was enjoyed by all! Of course, now we joking attempt to write our entire entries in the passive voice. As you can imagine, and see by the photos below, good times were had by all!

Pretending (?) to be zombies [Courtesy of Allison, the weekend documenteuse, and A. Barb, transportation duty]


Al, Me, and Heather [I think that my neck looks funny 'cause I'm the one taking the picture!]


Early Morning Mist [Courtesy of Heather]


Reflections [Also courtesy of Heather]


Hey Cousines! Thanks for a great weekend. Although it might not be an annual event, hopefully it wasn't a once-in-a-lifetime! See you all soon. Hugs!

Monday, August 15, 2005

Faster than a Speeding Bullet

Although I have been a frequent traveller for many years, the concept of plane travel continues to amaze me. As much as we all enjoy complaining about flights that last six, eight, ten, fourteen, or even nineteen hours, the idea of having breakfast in Brazil and then meeting up with a friend for coffee on Queen Street in Toronto the next afternoon, is quite astonishing. How strange it is to move so casually across the kilometres and over the oceans and flit between totally different worlds. Who, in that alternative little café, which apparently has the best almond croissants this side of the Atlantic, would have thought that a mere twenty-four hours earlier I was enjoying the salty seabreeze in northeastern Brazil? I sure didn't, and I am the person in question! All this to say, that I am safely back [having landed at Pearson Airport a mere fifteen hours after the Air France flight] from a twelve-day blitzkrieg five-stops-twelve-days-why-do-I-keep-doing-this-to-myself visit to Canada. In all, it was a good visit and I managed to see most of my family. Stories and photos to follow!

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Maybe I am not so lucky after all

As it turns out, I probably should not have boasted about my luck. I have learned my lesson and I am truly repentant. I will never do it again.

Monday morning when I was going to work, I decided to hop a bus as I was running late [euphemism for the fact that I was already twenty-minutes late and work is a twenty-five minute walk away]. Now, the fact is that I live in an extremely skinny neighbourhood that essentially consists of five long [verrrrrry long] streets with many many perpendicular side streets [all leading to the beach of course]. The buses run on two of the five major streets [one in either direction] and most run the length of each street before veering off on their separate courses. Work is approximately three kilometres from home in a straight line and whenever I catch a bus, either to work or home, I just catch whichever one comes along first and have never had any problems. Well ... of course, as luck would have it, yesterday's bus did not go in a straight line. Two blocks from home, it turned down a side street and made quite the detour to the mall. It then ended up looping back to where I initially picked it up and then headed towards work. Of course, by the time that I realised that the bus would no longer be faster than walking, it was too late to get off and catch a new one. So there I sat, watching the neighbourhood, as well as my initial stop, go by. And go by again. Needless to say, I was not very pleased with my choice of bus that morning.

Now, if that were the end of the story, it would be one thing. But, alas, it is not. At lunch, I had to run to the bank to withdraw some money. Since international bank cards are only accepted in a few select bank machines, withdrawing money in Brazil often means going a little bit out of one's way. As the closest bank with international capabilities is a twenty-minute walk away, I again decided to hop the bus as a Time Saving Measure. Of course, as luck [not!] would have it, I again caught the one bus that does not follow the standard route down the neighbourhood's main street. Again it veered off course to go the mall. By the time that I managed to convince the driver to let me off, I am not sure that any time had been saved. As you can imagine, I decided to walk back to the office rather than attempting any further bus travel that day. Otherwise, who knows where I would have ended up!

Monday, August 01, 2005

But What About That Relaxing Beach?

Of course, Porto de Galinhas isn't all about the chickens. It is also about the beach. Well, okay, it is actually almost entirely about the beach. The chickens are mostly a charming aside and a way to make tourists buy inexpensive tchotkies [yes, we partook in the tchotky buying....], but back to the beach ... the beach at Porto de Galinhas is wonderful! Strong words from someone is isn't actually a beach bum.

During high tide, the beach offers fine sand and wonderful waves (not too violent) which are shared by swimmers and surfers. During low tide, the water retreats, leaving crystal clear waters and natural pools, created by the coral reefs. Although low tide this weekend was far too early in the morning for us, a small contingent did make it out to the reefs before the water had risen to its final level and were treated to wonderful scenes of tropical fish (blue ones, leopard-print ones, blue and yellow-striped ones -- aren't I scientific?) darting in and out of the reefs. Next time, I will definitely monitor the tides and take along a snorkel and mask. As for the town, it seems to have managed major tourist development quite well. The pousadas (B&Bs) are discreet and charming and there are loads of quaint restaurants. There are still the tchotkies, but it's pretty hard to escape those.