Dengue fever. Natal's rainy season has started early which means more mosquitos and sooner than people expected. Sadly, this also means more disease and Natal is suffering a dengue outbreak. So, here's hoping we don't get it - Amy got it last year and it is nasty. There is no vaccine and even when you do have it you can only really treat the symptoms. Prayers for health for us all, please!

(Having said that, we've been hearing a lot from our friends in the UK about endless viruses and bugs that their kids have got in the winter months. We have been very healthy here, actually, and rarely have any colds of flu).

Weekend away. The week's just seem to get busier. I have a lot to do before Saturday and what's keeping me going is the thought of a weekend away with Rach. Next Monday is a public holiday and Steve and Celia will babysit Nelsinho while Rach and I steal away for one final break before the arrival of baby 2. We have a place booked in a hotel close to the gorgeous town of Pipa, 1 hour south on the coast.

New supermarket. I did a recent survey with my students and found that the most popular and trusted supermarket in Natal is the Brazilian-owned Nordestão ("the big north-eastern"). As it happens this is where we shop although that's only because it's the closest and cheapest. A few days ago we tried out Bompreço ("good price") with their new store just a couple of hundred yards away from Nordestão. Here is my review:
selection: better than Nordestão. Seemed to have nicer cereal and more kinds of vegetables (still no fresh mushrooms, asparagus or celery, though). They did have a Garfield book (in Portuguese) which I immediately bought. I had never seen anything like that in Nordestão.
value: OK, but not as cheap as the big N.
ambience: quiet, clean, new, as nobody is shopping there yet.
bags: bagger who bagged at a similar bags-per-item ratio to the Nordestão bagger. Bags were more flimsy and broke when taking the things from the car.
parking: ample and free.
choice of piped music: odd (but so is Nordestão, to be fair)

Overall 7/10. Not enough to forever change from my proven and known brand, but when I know Nordestão will be busy, I'll definitely be coming back to Bompreço for the convenience of having no crowds.

A week is a long time in blogging. It's been a busy few days which is why I haven't updated my blog since last Tuesday - quite a long time for me. What have I been doing? Mostly, not sleeping too much (Nelson is waking up each night in a bit of a state, not sure why) and teaching private English lessons at no notice to a Jewish man (a rare thing in Brazil) who is a store manager (not such a rare thing) and watching countless...

Great Britain projects. Each year students of Cultura are encouraged to do a project. This year's theme is Great Britain. I'm finding it fascinating watching Brazilians give their opinions on my homeland. Part of the interest lies in their choice of what to do their project on - the traditional, "stereotypical" British things are well represented - the walls of the language school are plastered with posters of David Beckham, football, the Beatles, the Queen (both the monarch and the Rock band), tea drinking, London tourist attractions and fish'n'chips.

Other titles have included Mr.Bean, Sherlock Holmes, The X Factor and Harry Potter. The one project that so far actually taught me a lot about something I knew nothing about was an Advanced group's presentation of famous British fashion designers: Vivian Westwood, John Galiano and Stella McCartney. (You will notice that for many people here Great Britain = England. Despite encouraging my students to try and "think out the box" and maybe do something about Scotland they all stuck to what they knew. One project was entitled "Ireland" and talked about the Republic - an interesting political mishap out here in Brazil which would infuriate a significant percentage of the Irish population).

British pop music has featured highly in many presentations and it's a reminder to me how much British rock bands and singers have influenced the landscape of world music. The Rolling Stones, Amy Winehouse, McFly, Lily Allen, Oasis and Led Zep have all featured in students' projects. On one level I'm proud of British music - I enjoy it and a lot of it is good - but the students seem to emphasise the reputation for drug taking that many of these personalities have and that's a shame.

I especially enjoyed listening to an excellent presentation from Moyses and Leonardo (students of mine from last semester) who gave an adlib, blow by blow account of the history of Oasis beginning with how Kurt Cobain's death spelt the end of grunge and Oasis' first album the introduction of Britpop. They were followed by Raul and Daniel talking about the history of British music festivals - Reading/Leeds, V festival and Glastonbury. I had to hold my tongue from interjecting throughout with "I was there!" and "I went to that, it was ace!".

Afterwards, I spoke to the students and Leonardo asked me: "have you ever seen Oasis, teacher?". My reply, "Yes, I have - on the Be Here Now tour" led to raised eyebrows from the young chaps. I felt like the old timer at the home asked to retell his war stories or an astronaut recounting how he stepped on the moon. I maybe overdid it a bit, spouting forth with tales of being a teenager in mid-90s London but they all seemed generally awestruck. Leonardo's closing words to me were: "I hope to go to a concert one day". What was telling about his response was that it wasn't just that he wanted to go to an Oasis concert, he wanted to go to ONE concert... Natal is 3000 kms from Rio, the place anyone big would play if they toured South America. Leo's ambition to make it to ONE gig of a large international act was still a pretty big dream for a Natalense. If you're reading this in London you need to remember to thank the Lord in your prayers that you live in the centre of such a rich cultural world. Many people wish they could be there.

Things I miss about England #56: Going to Rock gigs. In view of the above, R.E.M. have announced their tour support and will be playing some European dates with the Editors (who are OK) and the Disciplines (who are ace). Akkk, I wish I could see them but I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere!

Things I love about Brazil #95: Radio Rede Hallelujah. It's helping me to learn Portuguese even if it's a bit cheesey. Rede Hallelujah is a Christian radio station and I have it on in the car at the moment.

(ps. I've lost count of where I'm up to on the things I miss / things I love list but it will be resolved this week).

What does Gotham's caped crusader drink? Why, Batmilk of course. At the supermarket last week and came across this delightful prospect - yoghurt either made from the milk of bats or perhaps yoghurt distributed (or enjoyed by) that famous superhero of the night, Batman. I can confirm the yoghurt does taste nice and Nelson is hooked.

The real explanation? This is yoghurt as made by Batavo, a Brazilian dairy brand. However, it is another funny example of how English words (in this case "milk") are cut and pasted into Brazilian culture*, marketing or advertising most likely (according to my students) because it lends products an air of sophistication since it mimics imported European and American goods. In this case, I just think the whole scheme horribly backfired.

* driving back from dropping off Nelson this morning I spotted posters for a reggae event called "Rastafeeling".

Orphanage. On Friday we managed to squeeze in a quick visit to the orphanage to leave some supplies. All the kids were having a nap so we didn't stay too long to play. But, we were pleased as it seems other people are taking an interest in this little project and they had a water cooler and some new kitchen equipment too.

Sunday. We've been seeing pictures of 3-inch snow back in the UK. On Sunday here we went snorkelling in warm weather during the best low tide of the year so far. Rachel's parents were around and it made for a great day out. Here are some pictures that document the whole day including some snaps from our little church group which meets on Sunday afternoons.

R.E.M. quiz answers. Thank you to all NONE of you who entered my mini competition to get the names of R.E.M. songs from snippets of lyrics I used in a recent post. Er, it was quite hard and save for my cousin's husband Rob Miles who appreciates R.E.M. to approximately the same degree as I do, I wouldn't expect too many of the uninitiated to get the answers without using an internet search engine - so, never mind. For all NONE of you that care the answers were:

Let's talk about the weather - the song Stand from the album Green.
Baby's got some new rules - the song Me in Honey from the album Out of Time
When you greet a stranger - the song Good Advices from the album Fables of the Reconstruction
The music will provide the light, you cannot resist - the song I'm Gonna DJ from the latest album Accelerate.

What rhymes with Maclure? A post in the style of a poem.

Saturday lunch on Brazil's northeast coast
Just finished teaching my Master threes.
Compared to the last one, this is a shorter post
written online to save on trees.

I can't remember when I last saw wife
the week was so crammed, so busy
but sometimes that's the way of life
when you work and care for a young baby

Speaking of which, Nelson's fine
After a small fever at the start of the week
He's OK now even if he whines
But he's potty trained now: he don't leak.

Rach is doing a weekend course
on Project Management and related joys
8 months pregnant, she's quite a force!
also paying the staff that Cultura employs.

This weekend the outlaws are here
(thanks to Caz for that clever pun!)
Nelson loves it when Grandparents are near
for this equals presents, attention and lots of fun.

Let's talk about the weather... The heavens opened on Natal over the last 3 or 4 days, gushing forth torrents of tropical rain. When it rains in Natal (according to some of my teacher friends) the whole place grinds to a hault and people are confused, late, bothered, disoriented, ill and generally not themselves. Basically, it sounds like what happens in England when it snows. Anyway, everything is leaking: our house, the supermarket and the language school have all had dripping corners. Nelson caught a small bug which he seems to be coming out of, but now I'm worried I have it... thankfully, today the sun is out.

When you greet a stranger... Do you remember this guy? Well, he came back a few days ago asking for some money if he cleaned the grass at the front of our house. This was our conversation.
Me: I don't have any money (which was true!)
Bloke: OK, do you have any old clothes that I could have?
Me: Yes, I do. Wait a minute (Dave finds old shorts, St.Mikes houseparty T-shirt and old flip-flops). What about these?
Bloke: Will you let me have those if I clean the grass?
Me: Sure.
Bloke: But, I don't have anything to cut the grass with.
Me: Neither do I.
Bloke: If I go home and get some equipment can I come back and clean the grass for those clothes?
Me: Yes, that's fine.
Bloke: If I came back at 2pm?
Me: OK, no problem.
Bloke: Can I take the clothes now?
Me: (remembers how he gyped us before) Er, no, it's better if I give you them after you do the work, isn't it?
Bloke: OK, bye! See you later.

2pm came and went and I still haven't seen him.

Baby's got some new rules... Nelson is being potty trained. We wanted to get him "sorted" before his sister arrives next month. He was quite reulctant at first and even now generally seems to think having to sit on his little throne is a waste of valuable seconds when he could be doing something else like playing with cars.

Anyway, following a system of incentives in which he won a small wrapped present after each successful poo or pee in the specificied zone he's got the hang of it. Saturday was a different matter, however. Sporting his new undies we went out for a few hours to a shopping centre - bad idea. Half way down one toy aisle there appeared a small puddle on the floor. Rach got the shop assistant with the mop on to it (to be fair, judging from their reaction, this was not an uncommon occurence). I picked up Nelson and took him to the changing room.

Depending on how you look at it the changing rooms in Brazil are either very nice or really annoying. Basically, as with most things in Brazil, the cost of cheap labour means people are doing jobs that don't exist in the UK. And in Brazilian shopping centres there are often half a dozen employed women on hand to help you clear up your child's mess (a good thing, you'd think!). Now, if you remember what we learned about Brazilian women and how they feel about men taking care of babies, I was eye-balled by these assistants the moment I walked in. A man in here? A foreign man? With a baby? This I got to see!

Being the kind of male who hates asking for directions or any kind of assistance I saw it as my mission to get in and out of there as quick as possible - I was not interested in any help whatsoever. But, when I went to change Nelson and they all noticed he WASN'T wearing a nappy and that, lo and behold, he had wee-ed on his pants and I WASN'T going to put a new nappy on him it was just all too much for one woman in the dumbfounded semi-circle of curious females that had formed around me at the changing table. From beneath an extensively furrowed brow, she said, "have you run out of nappies? We have some if you want one".

Grrrrr, no! We're potty training him! Go away, all of you!!!
After that experience, Nelson and I had a pretzel to calm down.

The music will provide the light, you cannot resist... Happily, R.E.M. release their new studio album this week - the first one in 4 years. Even more happily, it's actually very good and everyone else says so too. There's some quite funky videos here by French filmmaker Vincent Moon of R.E.M. playing acoustic songs from their record in odd places - in a car, under a tree, in the road, in a cavern etc. A prize for the person who can tell me which R.E.M. songs I've cited lyrics from in the headings on this post. I cheekily downloaded an advanced copy of the new record a few days back and reviewed it here on my other blog.

(For those of you who don't know, this other blog is called beyond random, and it is where I write about everything else that's not connected to living in Brazil - it's about music, art, film, God, life etc. Take a peak if you have the time).

Culture Shock Treatment. I've been feeling a bit down lately and not really known why. I'm no longer that interested in the novelty of being in Natal - instead of wanting to listen to Brazilian music, eat Brazilian food or read Brazilian news, I've found myself increasingly anxious to get hold of the English versions of all of the above. I keep thinking about getting back to the UK even though we've been here over a year and we will still be here over a year. One or two small things haven't gone my way which got me a bit down and, despite a great life here, I've sometimes pined for the smoggy, cold, hectic life of London or York. What's going on?

Even though I pride myelf on being a bit of an international boy, in truth I haven't lived for longer than 6 months in a row outside the UK since I was 8. Nonetheless, I do come from sturdy missionary stock. How did my great grandfather, my grandfather, my parents survive months in the bush with no contact with the outside world? I have quite a few things going my way - I am surrounded by colleagues and family who speak English, we have a nice place to live in a quiet neighbourhood and I am well connected with folks back home. Surely, I can do better than this?

Actually, I sometimes think that my being connected to life in the UK through the internet, friends visiting, phone calls or post is sometimes responsible for increasing my sense of wanting to be back home. Whatever it is, I chatted about it with Rach and realised something I hadn't even thought of: I'm suffering from culture shock. A bit late granted, and probably fairly mild, but it seems to be culture shock.

I saw it in dozens of international students - usually when they were half way through their stay in York (I've been here ages and I have ages to go!), often when they had had a few knocks and when the novelty of life in York had worn out and the lure of Mum's homemade Chinese dumplings was irresistable. Culture Shock is defined in various ways but this interpretation on wikipedia suggests I have passed through the honeymoon period and am now in phase 2 - the negotiation period.

As soon as I recognised I had culture shock I felt a lot better. Now I realise it's something to get through I've been listening to Brazilian radio, eating my beans and speaking my Portuguese with extra gusto.

A truly awesome day. Actually, thanks be to God, I had a really smashing day on Wednesday which has convinced me life in Brazil is managable and actually quite enjoyable. In the morning I had an English class with some of Natal's pastors. It's my most rewarding group as I really endorse their motives for learning and I am impressed with their commitment. We had a great time, we prayed together. They are learning the irregular past verbs in English (*see language note below). Pastor Gerson, a larger than life evangelist/preacher character not wholly unlike Roger Simpson, gets frustrated at his inability to communicate in English and often bursts out with anecdotes or jokes in Portuguese. After one of his stories, in which he recounted a recent trip to Spain, I said that there was nothing in his story he couldn't say in English. So, I stopped my lesson plan, and we worked through his little tale turning all the verbs into past ones. He seemed surprised and thrilled by the end to actually have aquired enough basic English to tell a story. At the end of the hour I spoke with them at length in Portuguese and realised that in comfortable vocabulary areas my Portuguese was close to fluent. They seemed to take this as an encouragement - if their teacher could learn enough Portuguese to get by, then one day they would get English.

At lunch I spoke to my folks on Skype. They are on holiday in the States and speaking to them is always a highlight of the day. After lunch Rachel took Nelson to his first swimming lesson and he loved it. I went across town to teach English to a group of Intermediate level teenagers who have been giving my gyp lately. The classroom we usually use - a big narrow, echoey room with a loud air conditioner - never helped matters, but the air con wasn't working and we were moved to another, smaller room. This changed the dynamic considerably and the rascals more or less fell into line and with a couple of running around games for the kinesthetic learners we were away, English was learned and we had a great time.

But, probably THE highlight of the day came five minutes after the end of the lesson. The language school driver had to take me and two others back across town to the other Cultura Unit. The driver is a certain Sr. Ricardo, an earnest and well-meaning man whose baffling Portuguese (**see below) sometimes confuses Brazilians yet alone gringos like me. He has a natural lust for life which he applies to everything he does including using the car accelerator. Anyway, as I sat in the vehicle and he pulled away, the car sound system was blaring out a jolly tune and Sr. Ricardo informed me that it was him singing on it. Unbeknownst to me Sr. Ricardo is quite the singer/songwriter in his spare time. He composes Christian worship music and he has a pretty good voice. His recordings are lively but, because of costs, most of the instrumentation has been recorded on a synthesizer. As we made the 20 minute journey across town, Sr. Ricardo, eyes popping out of his head in excitement, regailed with me with the story behind every tune and then proceeded to turn the volume way up - both in his singing and on the CD player. He suggested I teach him English so he can write Englsh songs and tour the UK. I honestly think he should! His enthuisasm would win over millions. At one point he introduced a song his wife had written and proceeded to turn on the in-car light to show me that the hairs on his arm were standing on end. I think mine were too. When we stopped at traffic lights, his hands came off the wheel and involuntarily started waving and swaying to the music. His God-given passion for praise was totally infectious and I stepped out of the car at the end of the ride with a huge grin on my face and the sense that I hadn't heard any music so refreshing and uplifting in a long time. It was food for my soul and I walked to my next class buzzing and vowing to get me a copy of Sr. Ricardo's album to a) help me learn Portuguese and b) help me get up in the morning. Bless that man!

* Irregular Schmirregular. If, like me, you learned your English by osmosis, you may never have stopped to think about our often bizarre grammar and conjugation rules. The past tense in English is soooooo much easier than Portuguese when all you have to do is add -ed to verbs such as play, want and walk. But, the irregular ones are pretty irregular as my pastors have been findng out. If bought is the past of buy, why not trought for the past of try? Or, if fought is the past of fight, why not lought for the past of light? Or, if taught is the past of teach, why is brought the past of bring and not breach? Or if eat is ate, why can't I say that yesterday I bate you at tennis but you losed at chess because I chate? Or, if sat is the past of sit, then couldn't fat be the past of fit? As in, she fat in the small space, and so on...

**A footnote in the open diary of how to (and how not to) get by in the Portuguese language. Apart from Sr.Ricardo there is another Brazilian whose Portuguese I find even more baffling. He also works at the language school. He is the janitor, a Sr.Joachim. When he speaks, he reminds me of the Octopus from Pocoyo. You need a black belt in Portuguese to understand him. The day I get his every word will be the day I see some winged pork chops flutter past the window.

This may be longest ever post. If you've got this far you're a saint and I salute your stamina...

A supplementary entry in the open diary of how to (and how not to) get by in the Portuguese language. Adverts are a great way to help with Portuguese learning. From the radio, to the TV, to billboards and magazine spreads, adverts are a helpful linguistic tool mainly because 1) they often involve smart/funny/repetitive language to draw your attention and 2) you know what they are trying to communicate already - namely: this product is good, please buy it.

Two adverts that I have seen recently have caught my attention and caused me to think about the Portuguese language. The first (above) is for a cell phone company. The slogan sinal de qualidade has a double meaning in Portuguese that is lost in a direct translation to English. This is because "sinal" is a very broad word roughly correlating to "signal" or "sign" in English but covering everything from traffic lights, road markings, telephone reception, sign post and brand logo in Portuguese meaning. Thus, sinal de qualidade is saying that VIVO is a brand name of quality AND gives you quality reception when you make a call.

Another advert I've seen recently is for EPSON, makers of computer printers and suchlike. Towards the end of their TV advert they have the word PENSO displayed on the screen which then rearranges itself into the brand name EPSON. PENSO means "I think" which is quite a smart slogan, I guess. It surprises me that a large international company like EPSON have a Portuguese-specific advertising campaign. Lots of other Multi-nationals (Colgate or VISA, for example) often import their adverts from the States with little adaptation to the Brazilian market. I suppose if EPSON wanted to repeat their little trick for the English market they would need to rename their brand KINTHI and then have the letters rearrange themselves to spell "I think". I don't think it's going to happen somehow.

Happy Easter. We've been away in Joao Pessoa visiting Rachel's family over Easter, possibly our last excursion before the arrival of baby number 2. We had a great few days and enjoyed the luxury of the occasional lie in courtesy of Rachel's folks being on hand in the mornings. Lots of time was spent chatting away to squillions of cousins and Uncles and Aunts etc while Nelson entertained us. But, aside from that two highlights were 1) not losing my life on the dubious theme park big wheel 2) watching Daniel Day Lewis' Oscar winning performance in "There will be blood". I'd recommend it.

Back in Natal and we arrived here early enough for me to mop the entire house (because we had had it fumigated to get rid of the bugs before the baby arrived) and get ourselves up to our little church for a special Easter communion service. It was an apt way to finish off a great few days.

More news tomorrow.

Joy's interpretation of Natal. Joy had a watercolour set and put brush to paper a few times while she was here. Have a look at 12 of the images she produced. I think they're great! Apologies to Joy if these are not cropped in the way you wanted!

UPDATE: Something's wrong with the widget to do the slideshow but you can see it on flickr if you click here.

Nelson's new bed. Nelson has been upgraded from a cot to a bed - a big change in anyone's life, I'm sure. He was very excited about it earlier, but he has taken a long time to settle, unsurprisingly... it may be a long night ahead.

It really is a girl. We had another scan on Friday. Rach is carrying a 2 kilo baby (quite heavy for this time apparently). And the sonographer confirmed - it really, really, really is a girl.

"China in Box" and other amusing uses of English. The Brazilian fast food outlet which delivers noodles to your door, "China in Box" has started marketing on TV. What strikes me as odd is that they seem to be consciously aware that the name of their outlet uses incorrect English. The advert has a Chinese person speaking English saying "China in Box" in a ham accent, as if to reinforce the idea that missing the indefinite article is a problem far-eastern people make when using foreign languages. (Even the grammtically-correct name of "China in a box" is somewhat surreal). The irony, of course, is that most "China in Box" customers will be Brazilians who don't speak English and are unaware of what mistakes Chinese people make speaking English. Ultimately, it is an example of bad English out there in the real world which is bound to come back and bite me, an English teacher, where it most hurts: namely, in the classroom. I'm half expecting my kids to come up with abominal constructions such as "Renato in car" and "Larissa in swimming pool" and "Brazil in cupboard".

Speaking of dodgy English, have I told you the one about the local seafood restaurant who had their entire menu translated into English? Every single item came under the wily eye of some bilingual jobsmith. This included a translation for "Tia Maria" as, you guessed it, "Aunt Mary". It's enough to make you want to knock back a couple shots of... well... Aunt Mary, I suppose.

Lastly, hot-footing it on this hall of infamy, comes my new Intermediate class who took tests this week. To be fair to them, they are a bunch of teenagers who would really prefer not be in an English class (and I would prefer them not to be there) and are finding the jump up to this level quite tough. But, is this really good enough, I ask? I blame the teacher.

Complete the sentences:

The person in charge of a sports team is a c_______ .

Correct answer: captain/coach

Student answer: charger

Maria is on a d_______. She is not eating chocolate or sweets.

Correct answer: diet.

Student answer: delicious

Another student answer: deserts (I think Maria being "on a deserts" [sic] was the reason for the diet, non?)

My mother's new husband is my s_________.

Correct answer: stepfather.

Student answer: sister (WHATTT!!!???? The implications are terrifying!)

The brother of my mother is my u_____.

Correct Answer: uncle.

Student answer: uant. (Eh?)

So, I`ve got my work cut out this term, I can tell you.

Joy has left the building. And it's goodbye to Joy who was with us for 3 weeks. "Titia Doy" as Nelson referred to her, will be sorely missed. Next entry on this blog will feature some of Joy's artwork.

Things I miss about England #77: Teletext. It's faster than logging onto the internet for football results and more reliable than the Cable TV guide for finding out what's on.

Things I love about Brazil #82: Capeoira trousers. So nice to relax in!

More Haiku. A few more haiku poems from my students. The first one sounds like an advert from the tourist board, the second just sounds kinda painful...

Enjoy the heat
Sunbathe and sing
Brazil vacation!

Cold beer by the beach
Hot sunny day through my brain
Quiet and clear sea breeze

Ode to Natal. To commemorate international poetry day later this week, students of English will be having a go at various poetic forms at Cultura Inglesa. I got some Master level students to write Haiku in celebration of Natal's beaches. If you don't know what Haiku is, it originates from Japan and is very simple. The basic idea is that it is 1) generally about the natural world 2) has only three lines 3) follows a pattern of syllables, the most common of which is 5-7-5 across the three lines. Fancy a go? Why not enter an internet haiku competition here for cash prizes here.

sunset landscape
bright and quiet sea
memories that I lived

pretty sunny day
fresh water through my fingers
delighting the time

feel the breeze
kissing your body
and just dream away

the lap of the sea
makes me fall to my knees
as the breeze touches my ears

coconut sunset
over the palm tree shade
and the day is gone

So, it's thank you to Andreza, Lianne, Valentina and Rafaela for those. And watch this space for more Natal-inspired arts later this week. Joy, who studied art at Newcastle, has been painting her way through her visit here - results will be on this blog first. What a scoop!

Things I miss about England #10: the pub. The pub is such an important institution in England - a warm and generally safe communal gathering area, now free of smoke. And they serve PINTS of beer at pubs, something Brazilians don't do on account of the hot weather allegedly warming the beer before you've drunk it.

Things I love about Brazil #89: Sitting outside on the street on lawn chairs. This particular social trait is more common in Natal than many other Brazilian cities. But, in the cool of the evening, you can stroll around the neighbourhood to find everyone - from grandparents to sleeping babes - propped up on lawn chairs, the awake ones having a natter. It may not be the pub, but I reckon it's the Natalese equivelent. Walking past people sitting on chairs outside houses is how you make yourself known (I imagine if I wanted to join the Natal mafia this would be how I would make a name for myself). One old lady who can always be found passing her rosary beads through her aged fingers occasionally takes it upon herself to barrage with me confusing stories in Portuguese. I take that as a sign of acceptance. Sitting on chairs in the evening is also a sure way to get the latest gossip and nobody is better positioned to do this than the bug-eyed lady with the poodle. I was passing a group of Brazilians huddled in their white plastic seats at the bottom of our road just the other night. I greeted them warmly and walked on. A few yards past I heard one old lady ask, "Quem é?" (Who's he?). And back came the response from the bug-eyed, poodle-owner "É o pãe do galeginho..." (He's the Dad of the little blondie). I chuckled as I walked up our hill. I may not be a somebody in Natal, but I am Nelson's Dad and that's good enough for me.

Three surreal things that happened to me at the supermarket. I did the weekly shop this morning. On my way in, I noticed that we had live acoustic music piped around the shop (surreal thing number 1). It wasn't the first time, but with his tambourine and harmonica to boot Mr. Natal (as likes to be known) was crooning away for the benefit of the happy shoppers. The 8am to 10am slot on a Thursday morning at Nordestão supermarket may not be headlining Glastonbury, but it's a start I suppose.

In the banana aisle I bumped into one of my students, a 20-something Master student called Alexandro. He was a sight - he had a large shopping list in one hand and an open bottle of beer, nearly finished in the other, whilst nudging an overflowing trolley with his elbow (surreal thing number 2). He explained he was in there doing the groceries for his Mum. I felt like asking him if the trauma of it all required the early morning alcohol intake. It seems to be more common in Brazil than in England (where it's just not proper!) to start consuming your purchases before the checkout and then passing the empty packets or bottles through the till. Sometimes I see people pick off a yoghurt from the cooler section and quoff it down on the spot. Even so, I'd never seen someone drinking shop beer at around 9.30am.

Out in the car park and as I was putting my bags in the car, I was accosted by a little lady who kept blowing me kisses (no joke, surreal thing number 3). She had a prepared speech and it seemed to suggest she wanted to sell me a small turtle for my son (she had seen the car seat). I was about to explain that we already had a turtle when she reached into her bag and offered to show me one. I raised my eyebrows, understandably - you mean, you have an aquarium in your handbag? I've seen many-a-thing stored in a lady's handbag but never a bunch of amphibians in a paddling pool. Well, it turns out I had missed the part of her spiel where she said "stuffed-toy" and "used to prop the door open". The item in question was a turtle-shaped, door-stopper. I politely declined at which point she blew me another kiss and told me to "stay with Jesus". I think she had spotted the fish logo on the back of our car and decided that she needed to use the religious angle to promote her product. Very odd, but perhaps it's something to tell the people on the lawn chairs.

The incident of the overfed turtle. Nelson is independent enough to spend chunks of time wandering downstairs by himself. Most of the time, he's pushing cars down ramps or watching Toy Story or something. On Saturday, Nelson was left to his own devices for a while and later on in the morning Rachel discovered one thing he had been up to - feeding the turtle. Nelson, who we let feed Guga a handful of feed once a day, had found the pot of food, untwisted the cap and poured the entire contents of the nearly-full packet into the little turtle's waterbowl. I guess, using the logic that nobody wants small rations of food they really like (for Nelson this would include yoghurt and chocolate milk), the toddler had decided to give his reptillian friend an eat-all-you-can feast. The result: Guga was carrying a 1 inch thick coat of dried shrimp on his shell.

A new class. One of the Cultura teachers has decided to leave and so her groups have been parcelled out to the rest of us. For me, a group of teenagers who are in Intermediate 1. It is probably the youngest group at the lowest level I have taught. Based on today's first lesson, it's quite a challenge.

Sand dune park - trip number 5. We took Joy to Genipabu and once again I went on the sand dune buggy ride with the gringo guest. This time, the driver drove "sem emoção" (without emotion) and took us on an alternative route through the park. The views, as usual, were stunning.

A further entry in the open diary of how to (and how not to) get by in the Portuguese language. It's very late and I'm a bit tired and I'm supposed to be cooking pancakes for some pancake races tomorrow at the language school (yes, and I know it's one month after pancake day!) but here's another entry on Portuguese learning.

Without a doubt, one of the biggest factors that affects whether or not I can communicate in Portuguese is the context. When you communicate with someone, it is rarely with a stranger and it is rarely about something completely unrelated to your present situation. I mean, if in England, a person came up to me on the street and asked, "Did you eat kippers for breakfast?" I would be forgiven for saying "Say what now?" even though we speak the same language. Similarly, in Brazil, if I am talking to someone I know about a common problem or topic I am normally able to communicate with a measure of fluency. Likewise, some language in life follows set patterns - at the gas station, in a shop, with the bloke across the road there are a set of questions that are always asked which you learn to recognise.

It's when the random old lady at the supermarket throws me a googly that I'm really thrown. This happens from time to time: somebody speaks to me out of context, asks me a question or makes a comment about goodness knows resulting in my being totally stumped (to use the second cricket analogy in two sentences). Of course, being English, I assume that a random conversation with a stranger is likely to be about the weather, but this is rarely the case here. Natal's weather is one of the least interesting things to talk about. As a student told me today, "Natal has two seasons: hot and hell". So, when a stranger starts a conversation with me about any old thing I am often left slack-jawed and dumbfounded as they twitter away to the point of my, and eventually their, embarrassment.

This issue of context also applies to phone conversations, especially when a client calls me at Cultura. On the phone all non-verbal communication (which is pretty essential for my understanding of Portuguese) is missing. No hand gestures, no pointing at words, no facial expressions - just a monologue of information about something to do with something or somebody connected to learning English or something. With no more clues at my disposal I am often at a loss, although to be fair I do get by better now than I did six months ago.

What I am saying here is that I prefer it when I speak to somebody I know well (like my wife) about something we always talk about (what's for dinner) face to face with plenty of non-verbal communication (she is looking in the fridge pointing at the leftovers) and, if possible, this person throws in the occasional word or three of English ("Honey, o que a gente eat for dinner?"). Then, I'm fine and I think this Portuguese thing ain't so hard after all.

An open diary of how to (and how not to) get by in the Portuguese language. I completely forgot I was going to tell you all about my learning Portuguese. Well, I promised a story two posts ago and here it is. It is true that I am sometimes a bit harsh to my students when I publish their English clangers on here, but they could have a field day with my Portuguese, I'm sure.

A few months ago we were in a restaurant, just before a football match between Nautico (from Recife) and America (from Natal). Nelson was running around (as usual) and a guy from another table started chatting to me. He had travelled up from Recife for the game and was wearing a Nautico shirt. I explained (quite well I thought!) that Rachel's family were from Recife and, in fact, supported Nautico too and that we were going to the game. At this point I wanted to say that Nelsinho had a little Nautico football shirt too and to do so I used the common Portuguese addition to nouns of -inha which generally means "little" (i.e. Ronaldinho means little Ronaldo). So, I thought, the word Portuguese for shirt - "camisa" - would become "camisinha", naturally. But, as with all general rules there are exceptions and I had hit the bullseye of exceptions in this instance. As I said the word "camisinha", Rachel (who was 2 tables away) shot me a quick glance and shook her head. "Don't use that word!", she mouthed. I could actually see the thoughts in her head forming, slow-motion-like, into a long and despairing "Nooooooooo....". I felt like I was in a comedy scene from a dodgy film as the restaurant went silent, everyone turned to eyeball me and a tumbleweed floated by.

Anyway, my blooper came down to this. Camisinha is Portuguese slang for some other object that is both small and worn for protection. I had just told a complete stranger that my son had recieved from his Grandad, in the red and white colours of Nautico, a condom. Oops.

Joy Simpson is in Natal! It's been great to have Joy over from the UK. Her and Rachel and Rachel's brother and girlfriend have popped out for dinner leaving me to keep an eye on the sleeping boy. Joy did a great service by bringing curry packs, a music magazine, a broadsheet newspaper and a Cadbury's chocolate bar over for me... it doesn't get any better than that.

Mum is in Africa! Mum returned to Chad on Friday and should be in Cameroon with Dad right now. After the various necessary meetings I hope they get a proper break - Dad especially needs one.

Eduardo is in hospital! Not a good day to be an Arsenal supporter, drawing a game that should've been won and losing one of our best strikers to a horrific injury that will keep him out for 6 months to a year. The Brazilian press have picked up the story of Eduardo and his decimated ankle with rigour, claiming him to be one of their own, raised on the streets of Rio as a boy, and suffering a terrible blow today that affects us all here in Brazil. It's strange that the press have suddenly had collective amensia - often forgetting to remind their readers that Eduardo moved to Croatia at the age of 16 and is a naturalised Croat.

This blog entry here by a columnist for globo website says that if Eduardo repented of his Croatian nationality he would (and should) be called up to the Brazilian national team in a flash! I've just been reading some of the comments that follow the article by average Jo Brazilian. Some "commentarios" I wouldn't dare translate on account of not having a big enough swearing dictionary handy, but the gist of most messages is that Martin Taylor is a criminal and should be sent to prison and be banned from football and that serious questions need to be asked about the legitamacy of his genetic heritage.

The picture in that article shows Martin Taylor about to connect with the side of Eduardo's shin, just a fraction of a second before the compound break. If you're squeamish I don't recommend flicking around the links on the globo pages - these guys are not coy (like the British TV coverage which refused to show a replay of the incident) and have happily plastered graphic images of Eduardo's severe injury and contorted face across their national news website (for example here).

So for today, Eduardo is a Brazilian and we mourn with him. Get well soon Dudu!

An afternoon at an orphanage. Rachel and I have wanted to get involved in some social action work but for one reason or another it hasn't worked out until now. We (eventually) managed to track down the contact for an orphanage here in Natal I had been given by one of students, a Christian called Marcus. Rachel spoke to the lady there and we went to visit yesterday. We didn't know what we would find and whether there would be an opportunity for us as a family to be involved. What we did find was heart-wrenching but probably not unusual. Up and down Brazil, the forgotten children of this country end up in places not unlike the one we visited yesterday - a small, bare house of two floors which presently has 35 kids, literally bouncing off the walls, aged 1 to 14 and only two carers worked off their feet.

The lady who started the orphanage took pity on three kids that were left on her doorstep 14 years ago. She took pity on them and the flood gates opened. 14 years on and those first kids are still there. There are needs in every direction at this place so there's lots for us to do. Nelson, who was mobbed on account of his blond hair and on account of being somebody different, was a bit nervous at first but later warmed up to the younger kids in the group. We are praying about how to be involved, how to give and what we can do. Watch this space for more news!

Amusing uses of Portuguese: me attempting public speaking. We came back from a night in Joao Pessoa on Sunday. The occasion for our brief trip was Rachel's Dad's Dad's 80th. He is quite frail and has had a difficult few months but it was nice the family could be together and Nelson could see his cousins.

Back in Natal, our little church group met in the afternoon and the leaders and our good friends Marcelo and Veronica had asked me to say a few words about my parents situation in Africa and also reflect on something in the Bible that I felt was important. I was to speak in Portuguese without a translator. As usual, I was in a rush heading up to the service and I felt it wasn't so well prepared. But, I was really thrown when I arrived to find that our usual group (10 people or less) had trebled in size, was featuring some esteemed guests form Recife and all this was taking place in a completely different room. I found myself muttering an oft-quoted maxim - when in Brazil, expect the unexpected. When the time came for me to do my bit I fumbled about with my piece of paper and explained to everyone that I was a bit nervous but I did have my dictionary and wife around to help me soldier through. I spoke for about 10 minutes on one of my favourite chunks of the book of Acts - chapter 11 and the thoroughly international and outward looking church at Antioch. My efforts at accuracy were shoddy at best but I think I got my point across and that's the main point of communication, I suppose.

After a year in Natal, I finally feel I am getting somewhere with my Portuguese. I can certainly "get by" in most run-of-the-mill activities of the day - at the supermarket, putting petrol in the car, sleeping, walking etc. I understand "quasi-tudo" of what is said to me, especially within Rachel's family where I am used to their voices and manner of speaking. When I was learning to play the guitar aged 14 I think I reached a point after 6 months where the basics were in place, my fingers weren't so sore and I could actually play a couple of tunes. I think I am in the equivelent linguistic position as regards my Portuguese. I hope and pray I can keep plodding on from here and get close-ish to fluency by the time we leave Natal. WIth this in mind, I thought I should write a bit on here about my language learning adventures beginning with an absolute clanger from a few months back...

but, I'll save that for my next entry.

Chad part 4. A quick update - things in Chad have quietened down and Mum is on her way back to Africa next week. She will go via France to see her brother and family and then meet up with Dad and the team in Cameroon. There's still a long way to go before "normality" resumes but these are promising signs. As far as I know, their car has not been recovered.

Amusing uses of English. These are the answers to the mini-quiz which I set on a recent post. The answers to English words with Portuguese spellings that are commonly used in Brazil are:
uau = wow
xampu = shampoo
piquenique = picnic
cauboi = cowboy
uisque = whiskey
maicon = Michael

Amy Winehouse. Congrats to Amy Winehouse for scooping 5 awards at the recent grammys. More so, congrats to her on confronting her demons and sticking it out at rehab. I was pleased to see a good article about Amy written by her brother Alex in this week's Times. Alex is an old school pal of mine. The Winehouse family used to live on the same road as us in London.

Bits of news. We're probably travelling down to Joao Pessoa this weekend to see Rach's family on the occasion of her granddad's birthday. In an unrelated event, we bought Nelson his first potty yesterday in view of future poo and wee training. He was so delighted he has been sitting on it constantly or putting it on his head as a hat. In another unrelated event, guga our turtle is doing fine and has been joined by other critters in our growing managerie. We think there is a nest of lizards as we see lots of little ones everywhere and there is definitely a nest of recently hatched birds who live above our light fixture outside. Rachel found a recently lived in egg shell and I can hear them chirping away right now. And finally, I am getting back into the swing of English teaching - I am delighted that my advanced English speaking group all love football. This gives us something to natter about endlessly...

The Royal family, David Beckham, endangered turtles and Natal. We are all abuzz today with news of the battle of the two Davids. Natal continues to find itself at the centre of attention for the world's media ever since David Beckham's revealed his bronzed biceps on our beaches. The previous owner of Cultura Inglesa, the British Consul rep, a personal aquaintance and keen conservationist David Hassett has gone to the English papers to haul David Beckham's project for a Natal-based football academy over the coals because of the potential dangers to the wildlife.

This is typical of Mr Hassett, a man who has invested a great deal in research into and protection of endangered species and habitats in this part of Brazil. He is an important public figure in Natal and his opinions won't be treated lightly - the question is, how much clout can he possibly weild in the face of the Beckham brand machine? My guess is not a lot. I am pleased he is waving the flag for the environmental cost of what is/will happen to Natal's coastline as the rich and famous deposit themselves and their mansions on turtle breeding grounds. But, I imagine David the conservationist might get a bit of flack from some quarters - David the footballer's presence in Natal raises the profile of the city and is supposed to lead to community development initiatives and employment.

Read more about the "scandal" here at thisislondon.co.uk.

Chad part 3. Things in Chad have calmed down somewhat, thank God. Dad is still there, Mum is still in the UK. As Dad described in an email to me, things in Chad are still quite "fluid" and all sorts of uncertainties still prevail. On the positive side, Dad is living back at their house which was undamaged by looters (He did find a bullet under the door though!). And the banks opened today although Dad's not sure they have any money in them. Thanks to everyone for your prayers and interest on this.

Chinese New Year. Occasionally, I feel like I'm back in my old job as an international student worker especially when I'm teaching English to Natalese university students hoping to study abroad. This week I felt like an ISW all over again for another reason. One of my ex-students attends kung fu classes and her school and teachers organised an event outside the Peking Restaurant. Going to Chinese New Year events was par for the course in York, and now I find myself at one all over again. Unfortunately, we were 45 minutes due to the fact that Natal's town planners had decided to name two roads on the opposite side of town practically the same thing. Being 45 minutes late meant we were more or less on time by the Brazilian clock...

Nelson had a good time watching the dragon dance although he kept telling off the kung fu display chaps for fighting. He didn't like it when they fell over either. But, he did a mean impression of a kung fu master, swishing his hands back and forth rapidly (not unlike E.Honda from Street Fighter 2). Rach and I got a kick out of the sign which read "Gung Hey Fat Chow". I only realised this week that this is the traditional greeting for this time of year and not really that funny anyway. But then there is a chain of restaurants in Natal called "Thin San", and maybe "Fat Chow" should go there for a diet plan... sorry, that's terrible. And to think, I once was a politically-correct, culturally-sensitive international student worker once.

Amusing uses of English: Portuguese spelling. Some words and expressions that we have in English have been cut and pasted into Portuguese with the same sounds but sporting Portuguese spellings. Sometimes I come across these and don't recognise them right away until somebody says the word in question. So, here's a game. What are these words? If you speak English, you'll know what they are but you may not recognise their new spellings... uau, xampu, piquenique, cauboi, uisque, maicon. Answers next post.

Chad part 2. Just spoke to Mum this morning on Skype. She is in Southampton with my Uncle and Aunt. Things have quietened down steadily through the week. Today, Dad was able to call her from their own house which, surprisngly and wonderfully, hadn't been looted. Still lots of unanswered questions, missing people and chaos. And it is possible the rebels may try to re-enter the city at some point. But, all in all, the news coming out of Chad has been better, thank God. Be in touch if you would like more news about this.

Marcelo Alves. My lawyer friend (see last week's post) was accepted for his PhD at King's College. Wahey!

Edson Careca. It was carnaval this weekend which is a good time to get together with the family and hit the beach. The sun was beating down and everywhere was obscenely crowded but we had a good time nonetheless. For the fourth time, I went on the sand dune buggy ride, this time with Rachel's brother and girlfriend. In a moment of insanity we chose to go with the driver Edson Careca (see last week's post) who seemed hell-bent on raising his own ridiculously high bar for driving like a lunatic. Nelson complained about a sore bum the next day and Marcella vowed never to do it again.

Things I miss about England #28: Cycle lanes. Steve and I cycled out to Genipabu beach from north Natal (inspired by Theo who walked there in a morning) on Monday. It was fairly flat and the scenery was beautiful - a recommended excursion for any gringos, as long as you have sundown layered on with a spade, shades and a hat. The only thing was in the short stretch on busy streets it was really a case of us battling the buses, the buggies, the pedestrians, the animals, the motorbikes and the potholes with no protection except your wits. York cycle paths this was not. At one point, I was distracted by the sight of a small town car close to scraping the floor under the burden of the 9 people it was carrying. That's 2 in the front, 4 in the backseat and three kids sitting in the boot, with the hatch open and their legs dangling out over the bumper waving at the cars behind.

Things I love about Brazil #39: Carne de sol and macaxeira fritas. After our cycle ride I was famished and couldn't wait to order my favourite snack. Carne de sol is sun-dried, cured meat which is included in many of the dishes of northern Brazil. It is often cut into strips or shredded and has a very salty taste. It is usally fried very simply - probably in soya oil - and comes with some tomatoes, onions and lettuce if you're lucky. The local deli sells it and today I bought a kilo to make for lunch. Macaxeira (Manioc in English) fritas (fries) are a good accompaniment, very filling and so nice when they are crispy and fresh. Nelson loves to get a long Macaxeira frita, dip it in ketchup or Mayonnaise (or both mixed together) and suck the chip soggy.

Chad. It's been a strange few days around here, waiting for news on Mum and Dad as the city they live in is decimated. Today I spoke to Mum for half an hour by Skype.She is back in the UK at my Uncle and Aunt's house after being evacuated via Libreville and Paris. It has been quite an ordeal for her. Dad is still in Chad trying to contact the AIM team and check everyone is OK before he himself leaves. As I say, it's been a strange few days.

Many people have been very supportive; I think it's important to remember the context for all of this is the Christian faith that we share. Mum and Dad wouldn't be there if they didn't feel God had called them and we trust God's will to be done in their lives and within Chad. Without this basis or sense of "reason" we would be lost.

A cute person (and her parents). Danny and Caz and Gracie are on the flight on their way back to lil ol England and we are left to miss them. Gracie is arguably one of the cutest babies I have ever seen - perhaps, the prospect of being a Dad to a little girl has made me soft for this sort of thing, but she is well behaved, cheerful, boisterous and even when she cries it doesn't seem to annoy me too much. The Byrnes are lucky to have a little one like Gracie. In the week they were here we managed to cram in a fair bit of beach, eating, "bladder boy" (1 on 1 football), swimming, praying, laughing, Top Trumps, Rummikub and lots else besides. It was an exhausting (because of the two kids) but also refreshing (because of the good company) week.

An important person. On Tuesday, I had the final private English lesson with a Brazilian state prosectutor (criminal lawyer for the state of Rio Grande de Norte) called Marcelo Alves. Marcelo is a very impotant man: the son of a parliamentary deputy, an author and an expert on Brazilian law. Marcelo is applying for a PhD in the UK and wanted me to help him with a telephone interview. His interview was only about 10 minutes long and we prepared for 10 hours, 1 hour per minute. He had good English, probably upper intermediate to advanced but he wanted to brush up.

I have never seen anyone - at least in Brazil - with this sort of drive, determination and initiative in planning for the next step of a career. He photocopied the entire book - on French Law - written by the professor who was giving the interview for me to read. We researched her life and career so as to have as much inside knowledge as possible. I wrote out key phrases and questions for him to use in his interview. We emailed the professor's secretary and recieved some pointers for what the interview would be about. He subsequently wrote mini-essays answering each point to help clarify his thinking on the subject. My final lesson with him was to be taken to his office where the call was to be made for the interview. We talked law for 30 minutes to get him used to speaking English and then he made the call at 9am Brazilian time. I could tell he was nervous but he did fine, and it was gratifying to see him using some of the notes I had prepared for him. In reality the interviewer herself spoke for more of the 10 minutes than Marcelo did. As soon as the call ended he unleashed a barrage of Portuguese at me unintentionally - a reflex for having had to work so hard in English, I guess. A decision about his PhD will be emailed to him next week.

Marcelo kindly gave me a copy of his book "De Precedente Judicial a Sumula Viculante" (On the judicial precedent in the Sumula Viculante). He inscribed a message for me which reads: "For David, my teacher and friend. Your help was fundamental to my PhD. I hope". I will put him in touch with friends of mine in London should his application be successful. In the meantine he has promised to take me to a football match here in Natal where I think the language spoken should be solely Portuguese for my benefit.

Speaking of "my benefit", I came to see the 10 hours with Marcelo as something like a private crash course for me in the theory of law. I knew almost nothing about this beforehand, but now because of our conversations and the book I read I feel I know a fair bit about English law, French law and Brazilian law. It's actually all fascinating, but like many things, it's nice to enjoy it from a distance. I'm certainly not about to embark on a law career.

A famous person. David Beckham was in Natal last weekend promoting a new football Academy he is launching in Brazil and lots else besides. A good article about why he was here and what he plans to do in Brazil can be read at The Times website. It's another example of how the beauty of Natal is attracting international attention from the rich and famous. There is a sense in the city that Natal is about to be launched headlong into the 21st Century and it's status as a quiet seaside town with miles of unspoiled, uncrowded, stunning beaches is going to be radically changed. In case you're interested we made no real effort to see the world's most famous footballer in person. Actually information was very thin on the ground beforehand - for security reasons, probably. The date most of the papers predicted his arrival was to be the 29th of January (he was actually here two days earlier). I contacted a student of mine who works at the airport to see if she could let me in on where and when he would be arriving but she knew nothing about it. But, if the article above is to be believed, Beckham will be based here in some shape or form for the forseeable future. If so, Rachel is already working on a business plan to get Cultura Inglesa language schools working on teaching English to those who will seek employment in this new complex. Perhaps, we can wrangle a photo opportunity with the man himself... watch this space.

A crazy person. Danny and Caz and I went on the sand dune buggy ride - the same thing I did with Ruth Leckenby and both Tom and Theo. This time we had Edson Careca (Careca = baldy) as a driver. He wore something like a black hunting hat to protect his scalp from the sun and he carried a crooked, yellowing smile beneath his shades. We asked him to drive "com emoçao" (with emotion) over the dunes and he certainly didn't dissapoint. Caz had to have a lie down when she came in. I think I had whiplash.

A superstitious person. Macumba is a form of spiritist belief which originates from Africa. I don't know too much about it but it seems to have a lot of connections with witchcraft and voodoo. So, this week I was surprised to find evidence of Macumba practices as I went about my job teaching English. The situation was this: when I went with Marcelo the lawyer (see above) to help him with his interview he used the office of a colleague of his, evidently a high powered woman who was also a state prosecutor. Her room had the usual regalia - pictures of her with her children, law books, paintings, art. But, I noticed something else there too. A small table, like a coffee table, covered in trinkets of various kinds, some kind of prayer written out on a plaque, an image of her with an ornately dressed African man and the centrepiece - a small box full of sand with colourful stones inside and a small stick for stirring them around. Back at home Rachel confirmed to me that this would almost certainly be the paraphanalia of Macumba.

It may be surprising to Brits that an educated and influential person whose job emphasises the application of logical reasoning would be tangled up in a set of practices more associated with African tribesman. On the other hand, it's not surprising at all. It's just another example of how Brazilians are a deeply spiritual and superstitious people.

Byrne baby Byrne. Danny, Caz and Gracie all arrived last Thursday night and we've had a great weekend with them here in Natal. As I write this it's not even 6.30am and Gracie is up talking merrily to herself while Danny feeds her a weetabix breakfast. The tropical rain is pouring in torrents but will probably stop within half and hour.

The Byrnes have done ever so well bringing a 9 month old to Brazil. It's just that it's so hot it seems impossible to avoid a little bit of sunburn even with the factor 50 slapped on and copious sitting in the shade. So today we'll be going to Midway Mall to soak up the air conditioning followed by a couple of hours in the leafy bliss of Parc de Dunas this afternoon. Babysitter extraordinaire - Rach's Mum - is around leaving the prospect of Danny, Caz, Rach and I to go out for an eat-all-you-can meat-on-spits dinner tonight, so it should be a good day.

5 reasons why the last two days have been quite memorable.
1. Last night was another scorcher in Natal. We had the fans on full. 3am, I am awoken by Nelson crying. Then Rach notices our fan is not working and then a quick glance out the window revealed Brazil's biggest Christmas tree (about 150 yards from our house and which stays lit all year round) had been turned off. Nelson's fan was off too and the poor lad was dripping with sweat. He drank two bottles of water to cool down. At about 4am the electricity kicked back in and was greeted by whoops of joy up and down the street as fans and air conditioners spluttered back into life. Am exhausted today.
2. We have Lightning McQueen! In our bid to collect all the dinky cars based on the characters of the Disney/Pixar film Cars, we had hit a snag when all the toy shops in Natal sold out of the model vehicles. But they got a new stock in yesterday and Rach was the first customer, so we got Lightning McQueen and Sally! Now we need Mater, Chick, the Sherriff and Flo to really make the collection... and Rach has already reserved her favourite: the tractor. Nelson is delighted, but his parents are ecstatic.
3. Heath Ledger R.I.P. and he was only 28. I am 28 this year and it is a little odd hearing about the passing away of a contemporary. A tragedy.
4. Good news: Joy Simpson has confirmed she is coming to stay with us in Feb. Her tickets are booked. We love it when people visit!
5. Spurs beat Arsenal 5-1 and it only took them 9 years to do it. Actually, in a strange way it's better the Gunners lost properly rather than by a jammy scramble in injury time, that would've been more annoying. We were thumped, they wanted it more, simple as that. But we will beat them again, oh yes. And remember, we were fielding our b team...

Just a reminder to check out the last post if you missed it, especially the "Ethical Dilemma" bit. Ross Wintle has kindly put up some excellent extra thoughts. Anyone else?

It is hot. Natal is nearing the end of it's summer season before the rains kick in. Right now we have some scorching heat and no breeze and not enough rain to keep the temperature down. We sleep with no duvet or blankets, just a sheet and sometimes not even that. If one has to go outside for any length of time one ends up sweating like a pig. Scratch that. Like a pig on a spit over an open flame. Scratch that. Like a pig on a spit roasting over an open flame at a Brazilian churrasco (BBQ) out of the shade at mid-day in the Sahara desert...

Yippee!! Danny and Caz arrive on Thursday.

Yippee!! We found Nelson's blue Mr. the King Dinoco toy car. We thought he had lost it or thrown it in the bin. It was under his car seat. He and his Dad are very happy!

Ethical dilemma. Here's one for you all. Several times a month somebody will come and knock on our door begging, asking for food or money. Each time this happens it sends my head spinning as I have to confront (in the midst of a haze of guilt and frustration) questions like - are they for real? What should I give? How do I talk to them clearly when I don't know Portuguese too well? I know my folks in Chad have to deal with us to an extreme level, and I think my African upbringing has often made me a bit callous to the endless calls for help. I am tempted to shut the door a little too often. This year one of my new year's resolutions is to have greater generosity. Rachel and I live the lives of an exclusive proportion of the country who have access to the best amenities, restaurants, education, housing etc. How can I help Brazil's needy? How can I make sure my motivations are genuine in light of my faith? How does all that correspond to the knock at the door from the man claiming he needs a bus fare to get back to the interior after he has (allegedly) had his appendix removed in Natal?

Generally, my policy has been - give to organisations who are equipped to deal with these problems but still be open to dealing with each person on a case by case issue. For example, I am more likely to give to women rather than to the young man with an empty beer can in his hand (but even then I ask myself if I am judging too much by externalities - what do I really know about these peoples situations and should it even matter?).

This was all brought to a head recently when a chap came round offering to clear up the grass at the front of our house for some cash. I like this, I thought, because he wants to work for his money. But, he came at an awkward time as I was on my way out and I ended up paying him 10 Reais (which is all I had on me) when it should've been only 5. Then I went out for the afternoon and Rach came in. He shows up again later and says to Rach that he cleared our grass but didn't get paid. Rach gives him 5 Reais. So, in the end he got 3x as much money from us as we were willing to give. Rach was (is!) livid and claims she's going to give this kid a piece of her mind next time she seems him. Well, he must plucky, gutsy or crusing for a brusing but he showed up very early one morning last week asking for money for his bus fare because he was hard up. Rach was asleep and so I had to deal with him at the doorstep. I didn't have the Portuguese in me to get into a quarrel with him about how he duped us out of our cash so I just said no thanks and closed the door. Two days later he shows up again, but again Rach can't speak to him cos she's in the shower. I tell him to go away. And this weekend I was home alone and he showed up again and I turned him away. What should I do? And why does he keep coming here when Rach isn't available?

The parables and stories of Jesus are full of examples of generous gestures pushed to the point of irrationality - the woman who pours expensive perfume on Jesus' feet is seen as being in "the right" rather than the accountant's view that the money used from the sell of the perfume should be given to the poor. There are plenty of good arguments about good stewardship, not wanting to foster dependency, careful and sensible giving that can be made for not giving to every beggar who comes by the door, but how much do these points stifle generosity for it's own sake and put us on the other side of what a generous God would really want from us?

Also, the gospel accounts explain that we should treat others how we should be treated and that God frowns severely on those who are not forgiving to others when they have recieved forgiveness themselves. How many times have I done something wrong and been rescued by the generosity and forgiveness of others who don't slam the door in my face just because I erred once, not least from God Himself? Perhaps, I should give this kid a break - or as he burnt his bridges forever by cheating us out of 10 Reais? Again, why not be generous? Also, the gospel accounts also talk about the persistant widow who was granted what she wanted because she wouldn't stop banging on the rich guy's door. Persistance is seen as a good thing for the poor to be doing, so at what point do I stop shutting the gate in this chap's face and give him the benefit of the doubt? The cost to me is really insubstantial too...

After I turned him away this last time, I did feel convicted that I should've at least given him some food, even if not money. I don't know if he will show up again. On Sunday another lady came begging with her 3 year old son. She was courteous and polite and not given to nagging. I gave her 2 Reais and her son a toy car that I knew Nelson would not miss (actually the car had been passed onto him by another generous older kid - keep the generosity flowing, I say). But even then I found myself asking - am I only giving to her to appease my conscience because I turned somebody away yesterday?

Being confronted with the poor is not easy, and making clear and biblical and helpful decisions about a response is perhaps even harder. It's easy to see how many people run away from this - buy a high apartment in a closed compound far away from the rabble, give to charity and wash your hands of it, ignore all requests for help and get on with life. But these are all ways to stop responding, and surely attempting to respond is an essential first step?

Two interesting articles that I have read online that tackle some of these questions form a Christian point of view are here - at Relevant Magazine ("I turned down Jesus") and here at the Other Journal ("Revolution without Cost"). The first is a personal account of a guy working with the poor and the struggles he faces with his own attitude toward them and the second is a critique of the RED campaign - basically a way for consumers to help the world's poor without any loss to themselves. Both are interesting reads if you have the time.

Leave comments if you have any solutions/thoughts/experiences you want to share on this thorny ethical issue.

Uma menina! Rach's scan today revealed our next baby will be a girl. But they said that last time and look what happened...

Friday night, writing tests. Rach is away for the weekend with Nelson in Recife and so I have the place to myself, to relax and... write tests on Friday evening. I'm trying to get ahead on my jobs before the new semester so I can have some time free with Danny, Caz and Gracie when they arrive next Thursday. I'll fix some pancakes later, that will ease the mindnumbing boredom.

Amusing uses of English: the Christmas card. A few weeks late, but no less funny. I was sorting out my things from before Christmas and found a card one of my students wrote me. The context: in one of the last classes of term I got the students to make and write cards for each other, secret Santa style. The other part of the activity was that there was a pile of random pictures and they had to pick one as a fake present that would be appropriate for the person their card was for. I joined in the festivities and Paula, a feisty teenager who is actually exceptionally good at English, decided to give me a picture of a teddy bear and wrote this unedited, unequivocal message in her card to me. (For extra points, spot Paula's reference to a Genesis song which we listened to in class).

Dear Dave,

I could buy you some shoes or shirts, maybe a ball, but only because you forced me to make this activity I won't. For punishment, my gift will be the most "no-masculine" gift possible: in Christmas you'll have cute pooh teddy. Look how happy the money is crazy about going to your arms. Now, seriously, teacher, "I can't dance, I can't talk" and I can't draw or make gay* cards but I can write. That's all I wanted to write to you: you are such a fantastic person (if I was better with English words I would choose a lot of other good adjectives).

Have a merry Christmas,
Paula

*sorry about the word, teacher.

Parabens para voce: the Brazilian children's party experience. One thing that is a given about being a Dad is that vast chunks of your time are spent doing things you would not normally have chosen to do. This week Nelson had 3 birthday parties to go to and I was there for each one. I shouldn't be bitter though. If it weren't for Nelson, Rach and I wouldn't have a night life.

Brazilian children's parties are something else. They tend to happen in the evening, usually starting at the time Nelson would probably go to bed. Like a wedding, the evening concludes with the cutting of the cake, often ornately decorated. This can happen quite late - just when the kids are at their most wired, unruly and dazed. Goody bags loaded with sweets are given to each of the kids who attend, just to tip them over the edge into oblivion. Unlike my childhood where sweets were an extreme luxury and I was only allowed like one every other month, Brazilian children are fed a steady diet of processed sugar until they are adults at which point they have the right to choose their own sweets. Nelson probably falls in the middle of these two experiences, but needless to say the top deck of our fridge is loaded with the goody bags of many a birthday party and Nelson is always trying his luck for a lolly pop or a packet of M&M's. The last thing that should be said about Brazilian parties (and I am now a certified expert) is that a party is not a party without at least one TV blaring out at top volume the sing-a-long karaoke tunes of that most surreal of Brazilian personalities: the blond bombshell herself, the perennial children's TV presenter Xuxa*.

I have decided to rate this week's parties based on these criteria: timekeeping, food, company, location and venue, entertainment, goody bag quality and of course the Xuxa factor.

Party A: Monday night. Jercia, aged 2.
Timekeeping. The cutting of the cake happened probably half an hour too late at sometime after 9pm. Everyone was exhausted. 2/5
Food. Nice finger food - coxinhas and brigadeiro - and a plate of rice and corn. 4/5
Company. Jercia (who up until that evening we'd thought was called Jessica) is the daughter of a neighbour so it was nice to hang out with the other folks on our street including the Mum of Nelson's "girlfriend" Bia. 4/5
Location and venue. In our neighbour's house. Being close enough to our house was an advantage. When Nelson had had enough and wanted his bed, he waddled over to our house and rapped on the gate. 4/5.
Entertainment. One of Jercia's cousins was dressed as a clown, which Nelson loved. The other kids were good value and Nelson seemed to be at home. 4/5.
Goody bag quality. Jercia's family are quite devout Catholics and they provided quite a snazzy zip bag with a Bible verse on and Jercia's name. Inside the bag, of course, was sweets. 5/5.
Xuxa Factor. The TV was on, and Xuxa was strutting her stuff. 5/5.
OVERALL: 4/5.

Party B: Thursday night. Felipe, aged 2.
Timekeeping. The cutting of the cake happened probably an hour too late at sometime after 9.30pm. Everyone was exhausted. 1/5
Food. Waitor service, with pizzas, hot dogs, popcorn. To drink the Dad's were offered whisky. 4/5
Company. Generally, this was a huge gathering of some quite posh folks who we did not know so well. Rach did a good job talking to the other Mums, but I found it all a bit stifling. 3/5
Location and venue. In a huge party venue, with dance room, games room, swimming pool (not used on the night). Less than 10 minutes drive from house. 4/5.
Entertainment. They had everything here - trampoline, trampo-bungee thing, a room of balls, a climbing wall, a doll's house, arcade games, and everything was themed around the film "Cars" much to Nelson's delight. Huge soft toys modelled on the films characters were everywhere, awesome! 5/5.
Goody bag quality. A bag of sweets in a toy truck. 4/5.
Xuxa Factor. Music in the dance room was by Xuxa, but no TV. 2/5.
OVERALL: 3/5.

Party C: Saturday night. Lukas, aged 5.
Timekeeping. The cutting of the cake was late but not too late. 3/5
Food. Excellent home made grub, including some special brothy soup which was Lukas' Grandmum's homemade dish. Lukas' Grandpa kept my glass topped with cool beer. 5/5
Company. Lukas' Mum (Giane) is a secretary at the Cultura language school, and although we didn't know anyone else, these were "pessoas simples" (down to earth folk), mostly family and very friendly. The comical moment of the evening for me was when Lukas' great Uncle arrived in his jeep from a day fishing, got out and strolled into the party wearing his speedos and a vest top. Now, that's how to dress for a party! 4/5
Location and venue. In Giane's house. It took us half an hour to get there, and Nelson was grumpy about that. Rach had to ask directions about half a dozen times. It wasn't her fault - Brazilians tend to give directions even if they don't know the way, but we worked it out eventually, thank God. 2/5.
Entertainment. Balloons and the great Uncle's jeep. What more could you ask for. 4/5.
Goody bag quality. Lots of sweets. 3/5.
Xuxa Factor. The TV was on, and Xuxa was blaring out at a volume that impeded normal conversation. 7/5.
OVERALL: 4/5.

*Xuxa has been around on TV since the 1980s and is an institution in Brazil and one of the country's wealthiest citizens. Rach said she remembered Xuxa on TV - in particular, the bit where Xuxa dances out of a space ship. I found the very clip on YouTube here. It is dreadful, and there's something not quite right about the young girls' costumes. Xuxa is a controversial character, and has been accused of "over-sensualising" adolescents in her videos. The writers of the Simpsons parodied this aspect of Xuxa's act in the infamous "Simpsons in Brazil" episode, which was subsequently banned in Brazil. And, I found that very clip on YouTube too.

And that will do for today's post...

Back at work #1. Nelson's playgroup is off for January so I am on part time baby-sitting duty as Rachel works in the morning. I'm actually really enjoying it - it's demanding and involves a lot of walking around in circles but I get to play with dinky cars again, paddle in swimming pools and go to the arcades and toy shops with a smashing young man. I was thinking the other day about the different roles a Dad of an 18-month-old is expected to fulfil. Some of these are mechanic (of broken toy cars), constructor (of ramps), technician (of DVD player to watch Cars film), doctor/nurse (of scraped knees and banged heads), luggage carrier (of stuff - you should see what ends up in my pocket at the end of the day), lifeguard, fridge opener, teacher, supplier of coconut water, cleaner, cook, driver, stylist, dentist etc.

I think on balance I am probably an OK Dad - I spend a lot of time with Nelsinho and try my best to involve myself in what he likes to do but of course I make some schoolboy errors and sometimes run out of things to talk about to a boy with a vocabulary of less than 25 words. (You should see Rach though, I don't know how she does it - she and Nelson rabbit on all afternoon!). However, I know that despite my best efforts I will never really be up to scratch in the eyes of Brazil's women. They are already suspicious that as a guy I would be spending so much time doing what traditionally is the role of women. And as a male GRINGO they are convinced I am a liability at best in my parenting. Ever since we got to Brazil, I have had to get used to a barrage of comments coming from every other woman I pass during the day that Nelson is too cold, too hot, too sweaty (but it is 40C!), not sweaty enough, sleeping too much, not sleeping enough, doesn't have shoes on but should, does have shoes on but shouldn't, needs a shirt, take off his trousers, give him some cake, why not have a bath. Occasionally, I have had him pulled straight out my arms and shipped straight to the nearest sink for a hosedown via the kitchen for some cookies by some well-meaning Brazilian grandmother.

Anyway, today the Brazilian women had something to write home about and were no doubt left wondering how Nelson would survive another 10 minutes in my care. This morning at the house, my son and I were all set for a game of cars on the step outside the front. I turn my back for half a second to bolt the gate open only to find the guy has flung himself from the top of the third step and is lying spreadagled on the pavement with a menacing shiner on his forehead. If my guilt wasn't enough I have had to endure the non-stop tutting of the Natalense female populace... But, I guess I am not the victim here: Nelson dusted himself off pretty well and once the DVD of Cars was on he had forgotten all about it.

Back at work #2. I'm also doing some English lessons although the semester doesn't start for real until February. This week I've been giving a crash course in TOEFL to half a dozen students. I asked one of them about her extended family during a lesson. "I have an enormous family", she said. "I am one of 56 grandchildren that my grandmother has". Astonishing! I'll note that on my blog, I thought to myself...

Danny and Caz and Gracie to visit Natal. This is unspeakably good news! For a week at the end of January more great buddies will be out here to visit us.

Siasen's video. I have a good pal who is studying Film in London. Here is one of his creations on YouTube. Please leave constructive comments for Siasen about what you think of his short film. Siasen also seems to be the principal actor - the dude has talent!

Leckenby Pics. Ruth, some of your pics are revolving nicely in the little slideshow to the right.

5 lessons about life I learned over Christmas and New Year...

1. When you are 90, you can be late for your own party. Just before Christmas Nelson's great great Grandma celebrated her 90th birthday. On the big day the family had booked a function room. After lunch people were beginning to scratch their head - everyone was around, but where was the lady herself, Bemvinda. When somebody went round to her house to pick her up she allegedly wasn't there, rumoured to be at the hairdresser. Eventually, the AWOL matriach was located and she turned up in time for a special church service in her honour. It was a great occasion, click here for some excellent pictures taken by a relative of Rachel's which give an idea of the day.

2. The great thing about being a Dad to a little boy is I can enjoy his presents. Nelson has been totally in love with the Disney Pixar film "Cars" after his Grandmum bought him the DVD a couple of months ago. Christmas presents this year featured matchbox versions of the films characters much to Nelson's (and his Dad's) delight. We have a way to go to collect the whole set but we're on the way. I bought Nelson two yesterday and he practically arm-wrestled the shop assistant in the Toy Shop for the packages before they were paid for. Secretly, I was as excited as him. Nelson also got a remote control car for Christmas (yeeessss!!!!) and a model garage with ramps (hoorraayyy!!!!!).

3. Anglicans do Christmas very well. I probably knew this already, but when in Recife we attended the Anglican church in Piedade we had gone to when we first arrived in Brazil. Rach and I loved it and felt transported briefly into the pews of St.Mikes once more.

4. Children don't respect a lie-in on New Years day. After watching Recife's fireworks from the roof of Rachel's apartment block, I made it to bed quasi-comotose at 1am. Nels was up like a spark at 5.30am wanting to play with his new toys and run around with the two miniature schnauzers. As I said at the time, "Nelson, you have the crazed look of a boy who hasn't had enough sleep and has had too many presents". Between the hours of 5.30am and 8.30am I baby-sat the lad while the whole world slept. Nelson zonked out for a nap at the end of that time and I took the opportunity to catch some shut-eye too.

5. T-shirts are the standard Christmas gift in Brazil. Whereas it may be wooly socks or ties in England, a T-shirt is the covers-all-bases present for Brazilians. As the gringo of the family who people are still unsure of what to buy, I got a host of most excellent cotton T-shirts.

Hello 2008! Am back in Natal after a crazy 12 days on the road having Christmases and New Years and an all round good time. Lots to say, but I haven't the time right now. Just wanted to point out the swish slideshow function that blogger has now (over here>). The pictures are taken by visitors to us in Brazil... the northeast through the eyes of gringos. Hopefully, it will convince any of you waverers to come and visit.