Does Twice Constitute a Trend?

When I was in Brasilia back in January of this year, I shared my chosen hotel with the presidents of Turkey and Argentina. This last time around, I shared it with Thabo Mbeki, President of South Africa, and Manmohan Singh, Prime Minister of India. You have never seen so many staffers in your life! Does twice constitute a trend?

More Than Words

His eyes were glazed and lacked focus. His body had a staleness that lingered in the air around him. His clothes were torn and soiled; they hung limply on his thin frame. We figured that he was in his early twenties, but there was no way to tell for sure without asking. He approached our table and asked if he could show us his trade – transforming empty aluminium pop cans into art. Art. Art being mini pop cans, ashtrays, and other presumably useful knickknacks.

We were sitting at a table on the sidewalk outside a restaurant in the historic centre of São Luis, Maranhão. We had just arrived in the historic capital after several hours of travelling and were looking forward to sharing a plate of picanha (steak), macaxeira frita (deep fried cassava or manioc), and perhaps even a cold beer. We looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders casually and invited our guest to sit down while we waited for our order to arrive.

He sat down at the table, pulled a used pepsi can out of his knapsack and started to fiddle with it while asking us questions about ourselves as well as our perceptions of São Luis. We chatted easily, answering his questions and asking him some of our own. You guys aren’t like other tourists. You are talking to me. You haven’t sent me away. I like you. You are different. He cut and fiddled, fiddled and cut, and cut and fiddled. And then fiddled some more.

I know that you probably aren’t rich back in your country, but you have conditions, means and opportunities that I will never have. How could we argue otherwise?

Our food arrived and our guest had still not managed to coordinate his fingers. The food grew cold while we waited for him to complete his task. We offered him some picanha and macaxeira, he refused, and we finally decided that we had to start eating, whether or not it would be considered rude. He accepted a glass and we poured him a beer. His coordination did not improve. Giving up, he returned the pepsi can to his bag, pulled out a coke can, and started again. We silently glanced at each other, not sure how to let him know that it was okay if he wasn’t able to finish the job.

We asked him whether or not he was hungry and gave him R$10 to buy some lunch. He asked us if this was our way of telling him to leave. Yes. No. No. We asked where he normally ate and he answered na delegacia – at the police station. His answer caught us by surprise. At the police station? The police in Brazil aren’t known for their particular fondness of street kids and the homeless. Really? At the station? How do the police here treat you, I asked. His eyes immediately welled up and he could no longer speak. He looked down, shook his head and bit his lip as he struggled not to cry. Not well, not well, he barely managed to whisper. Do they beat you? Yes, they beat us. The conversation didn’t go much further.

He finally finished assembling the pop can and gave it to me. I kept it until it fell apart, a reminder of why I am here.

Mana from Canada

This past week, I had the pleasure of hosting a colleague from Canada for five days. Visitors from home are always welcome since i) I get to do a whole series of fun things in a row and eat in all the best places, without feeling guilty; and ii) sometimes they come bearing gifts. Gifts are always welcome! This week's gift was two pulp & ink copies of the Globe & Mail. I realise that I can read much of the Globe online, but its just not the same as lazing about on a Saturday morning, coffee in hand, Globe at my fingertips. Is there any better way to spend a weekend morning?

Feliz Aniversário

Today is my two year anniversary of living in Brazil! Funnily enough, I spent much of the day musing about my future plans as well. How apropos....

Highlights of the past twelve months include lots of great travel, lots of fun visitors, lots of good food (too much good food, some might say), lots of learning, and lots of good and fun work. May the next twelve be just as rewarding!

Sao Paulo in Ninety-Six Hours

In hindsight I realise that it was an ambitious list. Clearly it was not going to be possible to do it all, particularly once unforeseen activities got added in! It was, however, a brilliant ninety-six hours, even if some of them unfortunately did have to be spent sleeping.

What I did manage to do:

Great eating (was it even in question?). Thursday night was at Mercadinho on Avenida Consolação in Jardins/Ceqaria Cesar; Friday night at Buttina on Rua João Moura in Pinheiros; Saturday lunch at Fulô, an organic vegetarian place on the corner of Haddock Lobo and Itu (or possibly Jau); Saturday dinner was at a simple but delicious Lebanese place on Pamplona across from the Carrefour; Sunday lunch was at a fair stand in Parque Agua Branca; and Sunday’s afternoon snack was soy ice cream at a sorvetaria on Augusta (going towards the city centre from Paulista). Sadly, Sunday dinner was a stuffed potato (now that’s been years!) at the airport....

See people. Ended up spending five hours at the office moving slowing from one room to the next renewing friendships and catching up on the last fifteen months of news. Five hours! Who would have thought? The rest of my Sampa friends were also around and I managed to see them several times each.

Shop. Spent Saturday morning on Rua 25 de março (right), the local bargain if-it-exists-you-can-buy-it-there shopping strip and Saturday afternoon in and around Jardins the local if-you-have-to-ask-the-price then-you-definitely-can’t-afford it district. Two extremes, Sampa in a nutshell.

Wear my sweaters. While the first day was sweltering hot (read: hotter than Recife hot), Saturday and Sunday were more reasonable (high in the mid twenties) and the nights were definitely cool enough to merit a sweater and light jacket. What a treat!

New Stuff! Visited São Bento church in the City Centre, a small gallery in Vila Madalena which was hosting the quirky Osgêmeos exhibit (right), and Agua Branca park which was hosting the Revelando São Paulo festival, a celebration of rural São Paulo culture. In a One-Country-Many-Brazils moment, I noted that while a celebration of rural culture in Recife would exclusively feature Forró, a particular brand of Brazilian country music, the São Paulo version exclusively featured classical music!

What I didn’t manage to do:

Have brunch at Santo Grão, coffee & sweets at Figueira or visit the Central Market. Ah, a great excuse for next time....

Sampa

The twinkling lights of the city come into view long before we start our final descent into Congonhas, São Paulo’s domestic airport. I stare greedily at the hills and houses that make up the neighbourhoods surrounding the airport as we descend, transfixed by the sprawl. I am sure that the plane will catch someone’s satellite dish as we approach the runway.

The cooler, if polluted, air seeps through the cracks and greets me as I step into the elevated walkway which joins the plane to the concourse. A confidence surges through my body as I adjust my grip on my laptop and head towards the baggage claim area. Under perennial renovation, the claim area is small and cramped. The bags arrive quickly; I grab my small black sports bag as it gets dumped onto the conveyor belt and head towards the door.

The arrival lobby no longer gives directly onto the street. The renovations have spread from the baggage claim area to the rest of the arrivals section and I am caught off guard. Looking around for an exit, I am not sure where to go. Noticing my indecision, an airport staff points to the elevator and indicates that if I were to go down a floor and take a left, I would find the taxi stand. He draws out the eeee in esqueeeerda with the typical Paulista, or interior of São Paulo, accent. I smile broadly and suspect that my thanks comes out a little too profusely.

I hail a cab and settle in for the ride. Traffic whizzes by; I am surrounded by hundreds of thousands of red tail lights as we race up the side of Ibirapuera Park, São Paulo’s answer to New York’s Central Park. My cab driver is from the interior of the state of Bahia, in the Northeast.

After settling in at my pousada, I head out for a fashionably late dinner at Mercadinho, on Avenida Consolação. As I sit on the small sidewalk terrace and dig into my pasta topped with abobóra and charque – pumpkin and shredded sundried meat – both staples of the Northeast, I watch São Paulo go about its business. The people at the table next to me talk animatedly. The gym across the street is open twenty-four hours. The waiters ask me if everything is fine. I can hardly bring myself to open my book which sits closed on the table. It’s good to be back.

I'm Off!

... to Brasilia and then the Big City. I've just checked the weather for Sao Paulo and was quite pleased to find out that it will be very Canada-like this weekend. Highs of low twenties (celsius, we are still in Brazil here!) on the weekend and lows in the low to mid teens. Yeah, crisp! There's one day where the high is expected to be a Recife-like 30 degrees, but it looks like an abberation in the general forecast. Mostly I am pleased because I will be able to take a few sweaters that I am never able to wear in Recife (very shallow, I know!).

On the One Hand, I Respect It...

... on the other, it sometimes drives me crazy!

While many businesses in Recife manage to keep a semblance of normal working hours, there is a whole slew of them that operate on a pretty haphazard concoction of days and hours. For the most part, commercial stores follow a more or less set pattern. If the store is in a mall, it is usually open until 10pm Monday through Saturday and until 8pm on Sundays (malls are one of the most sacred places in Brazil!). On the other hand, if a store is not located in a mall, its hours are generally until 6pm Monday through Friday (not so useful to me) and until 2pm on Saturday. Closed on Sundays. Okay, so far so good. Except the part where they keep their doors locked even if they are open and don't always keep an eye open for approaching customers, but I digress....

It's the restaurants that can truly cause me to shake my head. On the one hand, as the title alludes, I am impressed that business owners here are not slaves to their work, as they often are in North America. Shorter hours means more time at home or doing other stuff. But ... as a client, I'm wondering when the business owners imagine that I am going to be able to frequent their business. First off, you can forget about eating out on a Monday (and sometimes Tuesday). Very difficult! You can also forget about eating dinner at a lunch place or lunch at a dinner place. Very few places are open for both. So if you want to try a place but it is far from work and only open for weekday lunches, too bad! Still other places will be open only for dinner during the week, but will open for lunch on the Friday and the weekend (this makes more sense to me). But, by far, one of the best examples of haphazard hours is an Italian place near here which is only open for dinner on Friday and Saturday and lunch on Sunday. Nice life! Another place not too far is open for dinner on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday. On Fridays, it is open for lunch and dinner. Why just Friday? Why not Saturday and Sunday as well? Are they trying to tell me to eat at home more?

No wonder the beach and mall are so packed all the time!

If you don't hear from me for a while ...

... it's probably because I have BLOWN AWAY!

Five signs that the wind is strong. Or that your house isn't very well built:

5. Your curtains flutter in the wind even though your windows are closed.
4. You can't hear your incredibly noisey air conditioner over the wind.
3. The seams of the material of your deck chair have been ripped open.
2. The tied-on cushion of another deck chair has been ripped off and blown away.

And the number sign that the wind is strong or that your house isn't very well built ...

1. Your doors slam even though no windows are open.

Normal programming to return when the wind dies down....

Election Time

It's Election Time in Brazil which means every inch of available space, physical and emotional, is taken up with banners; flags; painted slogans; billboard signs; sound vans, cars and bicycles (depending on the riches of the candidate); low-flying publicity planes; clowns giving out flyers and pamphlets; and election jingles, forrós and frevos. Poor kids are paid to wave gigantic flags all day long. Not even the beach is sacred!

Not that the beach was really sacred before, but still....

I'm going to São Paulo!

Hurray! This afternoon, I booked a ticket to São Paulo! It'll be my first time back since moving to Recife fifteen months ago, and I'm already making lists for my three day itinerary. Taking advantage of having to head to Brasilia for two days mid month, I decided to tack on three in São Paulo on the way home. On the list are:

♥ Visiting friends and former coworkers, particularly Val who just had a baby.

♥ Having brunch at Santo Grão. Turns out Recife does not Do Brunch.

♥ Staying at an incredibly cute pousada in Jardins and lingering over coffee in the morning.

♥ Checking out the city's twinkling lights from one of its high points.

♥ Catching an exhibit or two [I'll have to see what's on].

♥ Shopping [never thought you hear me say it, eh?].

♥ Exploring Vila Madalena, a bohemian arty neighbourhood I know little about but want to.

♥ Enjoying an espresso and sweets at Figueira Rubaiyat, a delightful restaurant set under an impressively large fig tree.

♥ And if there's still time, I'll visit the São Paulo Central Market, an experience in itself.

Phew! That should be enough to matar saudade. At least until my next trip. The photo was taken in SESC Belenzinho, a cultural centre in the city's north/east end.