Sports bloopers. Brazil are still stuttering in their World Cup qualifying campaign - drawing 0-0 with Bolivia in Rio which is not on really. I was so bored I literally nodded off during the first half. For once, I can be proud to be a football fan of England after their 4-1 drubbing of Croatia last night... Other sports bloopers this week come from my students in their tests this week. Complete this sentence - "The person in charge of a football team is a c_______". Answers ranged from captain and coach (both correct) to the more surreal cheat (possible I suppose!) and champion (also possible). Or, "If you do a lot of exercise you will g___ f____". Get fit was the answer we wanted here, but one guy imaginately put great footballer whilst another put got fallen which is just a bit bizarre. Lastly, for the question "Mexican food is sometimes hot and s______" most students responded with the correct word spicey but one guy wrote strange. Well, if in his opinion Mexican food is strange, he deserves a mark.
Street Evangelism. On Saturday Rachel and I and the kids joined our little church group for a spot of street evangelism around the Ponta Negra tourist area. Now, street evangelism can be undertaken by Christians in ways ranging from the frankly bizarre to the downright offensive, so both Rachel and I were a little trepitious about what we were getting ourselves into. Brazilian Protestants, in part due to the freshness of relatively recent revivals and also because of a desire to distinguish themselves from traditional Catholics, have sometimes drawn hard battle lines between themselves and mainstream society. There`s nothing wrong with that - in fact, to an extent it`s quite biblical - but it can mean Christians can come across as mean-spiritied rather than loving. My fears were not wholly allayed when the pastor rang me on Friday to ask for my and Rachel`s shirt sizes - the idea being that all involved would have matching uniforms. I pictured a ragbag bunch of guitar-playing, bibles-poised-for-bashing, sandal-wearing, fixed-smile-sporting believers dressed to the hilt in lemon shell suits descending as one on unsuspecting tourists or joggers or coconut water vendors. In the end, and as is almost always the case with me where my fears are never fully realised, the whole thing passed without a fuss. It was quite fun and I`d do it again. Our shirts were very tasteful, we simply politely approached people to hand out flyers and spoke further with them if they were interested and had the time. In the end, we ended up at the quiet end of the beach away from the tourists, prostitutes, tarrot readers and had a sing-a-long and ate hot dogs. It was a good time - a time to bond as a group - and an important first step in publically displaying our faith in appropriate ways. I even felt a niggling feeling we could have done more - next time, let`s get up the busy end of the beach!
Adoption and Social Responsibility. Rachel and I are not considering adoption - at least, not yet - but Rachel saw an event publicised recently as a fundraiser for an organisation which works with orphans and sponsoring children and placing children for adoption. Generally, it is said that in terms of philanthropy and charity work Great Britain is far ahead of many countries in the world. This is due to our many years of wealth, our rich history of social action and mission work and also a sense of guilt following our carving up the world through our Empires. On the other hand, South Americans, to generalise massively, are focused on survival and aiding the family interest. Negatively, this exposes itself as corruption - the underming of communal values and laws or common goods for all and the neglect or marginalisation of the alien and the poor. Positively, it means an unswering commitment to the relationships of all generations within families - something lacking in contemporary Britain, in my opinion. Brazilians, however, of all South Americans (at least according to my friend Roberto from Chile`s MA) have the lowest levels of trust for each other outside the family. In other words, there`s no way I`m leaving a key with my neighbour when I`m away for the weekend because I don`t know if they`ll let themselves in and walk away with my DVD player. Even if I offered them my key, they would refuse it on the grounds that they may be accused by me even if they didn`t steal anything... you can see, I think, how this is different to the UK (although maybe this is changing for the worst back at home too!).
Knowing all this, Rachel and I weren`t sure what to expect when we rolled up last Sunday evening. Fundraisers are not so common here and we were expecting a low key affair. Not at all! The place the group rented was huge and was packed with well-to-do families emptying out their pockets for a good cause. It was a superbly run operation with clowns, presentations, slide-shows, oodles of cute children running about etc. We were really taken aback. Maybe, the next generation of wealthy Brazilians - of which there are many in Natal -are catching onto social responsibility. That, and Brazilians unswerving estimation (almost idolisation) of children, resulted, in this case, in an exhuberent outpouring of generosity.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Surprise party for Rachel's parents (nearly) works! For obvious reasons, I wasn't able to mention this last week, but Rachel was cooking up a surprise party for her parents 50th birthdays (both this year). The party, billed as a 100 party, was in Joao Pessoa and Rach did a great job of rounding everyone up. I was particularly pleased to see old pal Andy Roberts (and seriel plagariser of this blog for his own newsletters!) and his girlfriend Rose for the first time on Brazilian soil. Andy works down in Recife at the extraordinary church project to Brazil's poorest - the residents of a dump heap in Olinda. Ruth, who was here last month, had been doing short term work on the project in July along with a team of students from Newcastle.
Anyway, about the surprise party. This is a copy of some of what I wrote about it this week...
We managed to keep the party a surprise for Rachel's parents up unitl about half an hour before the party (the decoy was that it was a 1yr old party for Rachel's cousin Johnny - even Nelson was primed to repeat ad nauseum "festa de Johnny! festa de Johnny!). But, for the first time in their lives (or in the life of any Brazilian), Rachel's folks arrived EARLY for something and so we had to stall them. I called with the "we've forgotten nappies for Gloria" excuse to send them off to a pharmacy. But they foiled us again when Steve decided to drop off Celia at the party and go and look for nappies just by himself. So, on seeing a bunch of family and friends who would not normally be seen dead at a 1-yr-olds do walk in, she twigged.
Steve on the other hand was left in the dark and his surprise was genuine - only problem was the diversion worked too well. He couldn't find nappies! He ended up driving 4 miles out of town to a 24 hour supermarket and got back a lot later than expected... But when he did arrive he was carrying a huge toy for a 1 yr old and was bowled over by the surprise. As he said "I love surprise parties and tributes - but only for other people!".
The "miss marple" prize for opportunistic sleuthing goes to Rach on account of her overhearing her Dad call his ol school chum last Sunday to wish this guy happy birthday - Rach got hold of her Dad's mobile, searched the "calls made" list on the phone and copied the number down of this old aquaintance. Later, she called the chap explaining she was Steve's daughter and could he come along to the surprise party and bring some other back-in-the-day school chums. Some of them he hadn't seen since his teenage years. It was the highlight of the night and Steve couldn't honestly believe they were there.
Things I love about Brazil no.94: hearses. Yesterday we drove past an undertakers shop (do undertakers have shops?) which was amusingly and perhaps appropriately-named "After-life funeral directors". It reminded me what we had seen on coming back into town from our road trip to Joao Pessoa - a long procession of slow-moving cars with their emergency lights on snaking their way through the city of Natal on their way to a burial. At the head of the long line of cars was the hearse. But, I honestly didn't recognise it as such until we stopped next to it at a set of traffic lights. What would you expect a hearse to look like? Back in the UK and Ì'm pretty sure in the States (and I imagine several other countries) a hearse is normally black. Sometimes the coffin is on display behind large glass windows for all to see. Not in Brazil, or at least not on this day. The hearse was a VW Kombi, completely white (except for half a dozen stickers advertising Sao Francisco Funeral Directors) and 4 orange lights flashing out from up on the roof rack. No windows. The image that came to my mind was of a 1970s hippy ambulance. Or, perhaps of a remodelled and retinted A-team van. If it wasn't for the stickers on the side, I honestly could have assumed the drivers were some kind of emergency decorators and the contents in the back of the van were tins of paint.
Things I miss about England no. something-or-other. I don't seem to be missing anything from the UK this week so I'll have to write this later...
Anyway, about the surprise party. This is a copy of some of what I wrote about it this week...
We managed to keep the party a surprise for Rachel's parents up unitl about half an hour before the party (the decoy was that it was a 1yr old party for Rachel's cousin Johnny - even Nelson was primed to repeat ad nauseum "festa de Johnny! festa de Johnny!). But, for the first time in their lives (or in the life of any Brazilian), Rachel's folks arrived EARLY for something and so we had to stall them. I called with the "we've forgotten nappies for Gloria" excuse to send them off to a pharmacy. But they foiled us again when Steve decided to drop off Celia at the party and go and look for nappies just by himself. So, on seeing a bunch of family and friends who would not normally be seen dead at a 1-yr-olds do walk in, she twigged.
Steve on the other hand was left in the dark and his surprise was genuine - only problem was the diversion worked too well. He couldn't find nappies! He ended up driving 4 miles out of town to a 24 hour supermarket and got back a lot later than expected... But when he did arrive he was carrying a huge toy for a 1 yr old and was bowled over by the surprise. As he said "I love surprise parties and tributes - but only for other people!".
The "miss marple" prize for opportunistic sleuthing goes to Rach on account of her overhearing her Dad call his ol school chum last Sunday to wish this guy happy birthday - Rach got hold of her Dad's mobile, searched the "calls made" list on the phone and copied the number down of this old aquaintance. Later, she called the chap explaining she was Steve's daughter and could he come along to the surprise party and bring some other back-in-the-day school chums. Some of them he hadn't seen since his teenage years. It was the highlight of the night and Steve couldn't honestly believe they were there.
Things I love about Brazil no.94: hearses. Yesterday we drove past an undertakers shop (do undertakers have shops?) which was amusingly and perhaps appropriately-named "After-life funeral directors". It reminded me what we had seen on coming back into town from our road trip to Joao Pessoa - a long procession of slow-moving cars with their emergency lights on snaking their way through the city of Natal on their way to a burial. At the head of the long line of cars was the hearse. But, I honestly didn't recognise it as such until we stopped next to it at a set of traffic lights. What would you expect a hearse to look like? Back in the UK and Ì'm pretty sure in the States (and I imagine several other countries) a hearse is normally black. Sometimes the coffin is on display behind large glass windows for all to see. Not in Brazil, or at least not on this day. The hearse was a VW Kombi, completely white (except for half a dozen stickers advertising Sao Francisco Funeral Directors) and 4 orange lights flashing out from up on the roof rack. No windows. The image that came to my mind was of a 1970s hippy ambulance. Or, perhaps of a remodelled and retinted A-team van. If it wasn't for the stickers on the side, I honestly could have assumed the drivers were some kind of emergency decorators and the contents in the back of the van were tins of paint.
Things I miss about England no. something-or-other. I don't seem to be missing anything from the UK this week so I'll have to write this later...
Friday, August 29, 2008
One thing or another. It's probably going to be a busy weekend so I thought I'd write a short update now. Life's been pretty full on for us - but rewarding at the same time. My students are coming up for their first assessments next week. I still haven't learned all their names yet. Mind you, one group of 20 or so teenagers has an annoying mixture of people with very similar names - Gabriel/Gabriella, Graça/Jessica, Isadora/Isabelle, Marcia/Marcella, Joao Vitor/Joao Henrique. I mostly just point and say "you there!".
Olympics over but Paralympics anyone? Brazil did moderately well in these Olympics - they lost a bunch of finals to the Americans which they were pretty sore about but their women's volleyball team managed to get gold against the States, prompting scenes of delirious jubilation on the podium. See here for an awesome interactive medals table from all Olympics up to and including 2008 as done by the New York times. Also, Brazil won their first individual women's gold medal ever when Maggi leapt 7.04 metres in the long jump. However, Brazil were denied a chance to even attempt for a medal in the women's pole vault when the ladies coach misplaced the poles after qualifying. The competitor had to borrow somebody else's pole but it didn't work out too well - it was like something out of Cool Runnings.
The Paralympics start at the end of next week and we'll be keeping an eye out for two possible medal contenders - Adriano Lima and Clodoaldo, both from Natal. The first is a student of the language school and I met him and interviewed him last year and wrote a post about it here.
Olympics over but Paralympics anyone? Brazil did moderately well in these Olympics - they lost a bunch of finals to the Americans which they were pretty sore about but their women's volleyball team managed to get gold against the States, prompting scenes of delirious jubilation on the podium. See here for an awesome interactive medals table from all Olympics up to and including 2008 as done by the New York times. Also, Brazil won their first individual women's gold medal ever when Maggi leapt 7.04 metres in the long jump. However, Brazil were denied a chance to even attempt for a medal in the women's pole vault when the ladies coach misplaced the poles after qualifying. The competitor had to borrow somebody else's pole but it didn't work out too well - it was like something out of Cool Runnings.
The Paralympics start at the end of next week and we'll be keeping an eye out for two possible medal contenders - Adriano Lima and Clodoaldo, both from Natal. The first is a student of the language school and I met him and interviewed him last year and wrote a post about it here.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Things I miss about England #38: Match of the Day. So, the English Premier league has started again. Another season and another chance for me to miss all the goals. "If only I had Match of the Day!", I've frequently cried. Hansen, Lawro et al. may not be your cup of tea and you may think their razor-sharp analysis is as sharp as a toothbrush but they're a fair bit better than coverage here in Brazil. There are programmes which show the British goals. Only problem is you have to watch 2 hours of talking for 10 seconds of clips. And there's no consistency about when the programmes will even be on (TV guides may have been invented but it doesn't mean anyone has to stick to them!) or when in the programmes the goals will come. Even when they do show goals from the Premiership the editing is pretty shocking resulting in a speeded up 2 second-clip of a wonder goal followed by a 30 second repeated slow-motion clip of the referee falling over.
The absolute best (or worst) example of this dodgy editing came this very evening when my father-in-law was listening to an online radio commentary of a game involving his team Nautico (think Reading) playing at home ot the league leaders Gremio (think Chelsea). With 2 minutes left of the game and with Nautico winning 1-0 the commentator had to cut to a party political election broadcast. Left high and dry without commentary, Steve managed to get text commentary from a website only to find his beloved Nautico had let in an equaliser in the 90th minute. It was a double sucker punch (or should that be "soccer punch") for my already frustrated father-in-law.
Thank goodness for the internet which allows me to at least see the Arsenal goals (that's if they're ever going to score any!) from a dodgy, grainy Arabic website.
Things I love about Brazil #68: Football commentators. It's not that Brazilian footy commentators are good. It's more that they're just funny. They don't seem to take themselves or their jobs as seriously as Messrs Motson and Tyler. There's much more banter, much more speculating about what's actually happening, much less clarity about who is who... my top 5 Brazilian commentator moments so far:
1. GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLL. I have to admit, the way commentators announce a goal being scored is very handy. You can be anywhere in the house and know somebody has scored. It's a great way to make sure you don't miss the replay. If you're watching a game involving Brazil (in any sport), a goal for the mother country is not only announced with the customary drawn out shouting of "GOL" but a techie in the sound-box will put on a cheesy sound-clip of somebody (Rachel informs me it's Galvão Bueno) saying "Brazil-zil-zil-zil-zil!" occasionally followed by a 10 second clip of Brazilian samba music. It's truly extraordinary and one of those things that can only be fully appreciated if you're there at the time. But, thanks to the miracle of YouTube you can be. Click here to see what I'm on about.
2. The commentators of a Carling Cup match didn't know that the game would go to extra time. On seeing two teams who had just finished a match line up against each other for more, they were incredulous: "This didn't happen last year! What's going on?"
3. For half an Arsenal match, the commentators confused Eboue with Adebayor and vice versa.
4. The commentators pronounced the Birmingham player "Jerome" as Jeremy. For a short while, I though the former Chelsea player "Geremi" had moved to Birmingham. I was very confused. The pronunciation and intonation of some football teams is also a highlight: "PortsMOUTH versus FulHAM".
5. Commentating on the women's football in the Olympics, the two commentators on duty couldn't help but push their commentary to the edge of political correctness. Their commentary deviated from, well, commentating to the occasional piece of advice giving or melodrama. "Calm down! Calm down! Take your time. You didn't need to boot it out of defence!". And when Brazil conceded a penalty: "My goodness, that was a clear penalty! I have never seen such an obvious penalty in all my life! That was bad!".
The absolute best (or worst) example of this dodgy editing came this very evening when my father-in-law was listening to an online radio commentary of a game involving his team Nautico (think Reading) playing at home ot the league leaders Gremio (think Chelsea). With 2 minutes left of the game and with Nautico winning 1-0 the commentator had to cut to a party political election broadcast. Left high and dry without commentary, Steve managed to get text commentary from a website only to find his beloved Nautico had let in an equaliser in the 90th minute. It was a double sucker punch (or should that be "soccer punch") for my already frustrated father-in-law.
Thank goodness for the internet which allows me to at least see the Arsenal goals (that's if they're ever going to score any!) from a dodgy, grainy Arabic website.
Things I love about Brazil #68: Football commentators. It's not that Brazilian footy commentators are good. It's more that they're just funny. They don't seem to take themselves or their jobs as seriously as Messrs Motson and Tyler. There's much more banter, much more speculating about what's actually happening, much less clarity about who is who... my top 5 Brazilian commentator moments so far:
1. GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLL. I have to admit, the way commentators announce a goal being scored is very handy. You can be anywhere in the house and know somebody has scored. It's a great way to make sure you don't miss the replay. If you're watching a game involving Brazil (in any sport), a goal for the mother country is not only announced with the customary drawn out shouting of "GOL" but a techie in the sound-box will put on a cheesy sound-clip of somebody (Rachel informs me it's Galvão Bueno) saying "Brazil-zil-zil-zil-zil!" occasionally followed by a 10 second clip of Brazilian samba music. It's truly extraordinary and one of those things that can only be fully appreciated if you're there at the time. But, thanks to the miracle of YouTube you can be. Click here to see what I'm on about.
2. The commentators of a Carling Cup match didn't know that the game would go to extra time. On seeing two teams who had just finished a match line up against each other for more, they were incredulous: "This didn't happen last year! What's going on?"
3. For half an Arsenal match, the commentators confused Eboue with Adebayor and vice versa.
4. The commentators pronounced the Birmingham player "Jerome" as Jeremy. For a short while, I though the former Chelsea player "Geremi" had moved to Birmingham. I was very confused. The pronunciation and intonation of some football teams is also a highlight: "PortsMOUTH versus FulHAM".
5. Commentating on the women's football in the Olympics, the two commentators on duty couldn't help but push their commentary to the edge of political correctness. Their commentary deviated from, well, commentating to the occasional piece of advice giving or melodrama. "Calm down! Calm down! Take your time. You didn't need to boot it out of defence!". And when Brazil conceded a penalty: "My goodness, that was a clear penalty! I have never seen such an obvious penalty in all my life! That was bad!".
Thursday, August 21, 2008
More supermarket stories. I did the family shop today and Nordestao. Honestly, I've not come across a better supermarket anywhere. (Rachel calls me a big girl when I talk like this, but it's true!). The other day, for Father's day, they put on free live music (a man on an electric keyboard) and provided free breakfast. And that was at 8am on a Sunday morning! Today, I chuckled to myself at the checkout when the lady behind the counter suggested I use the toblerone-shaped devider-y thing between my pile of shopping and the lady's in front of me on the conveyor belt. Every supermarket in Brazil has them, but I've never seen anyone use one... until today. I wiped away a small tear. It was just like being back in Tesco.
All that glitters isn't gold. The nation mourns that neither the men nor women footballers will take gold away from the Beijing Olympics. The women's final was extraordinary. Brazil did everything but score and then they let one in to the Americans in extra time and lost it 1-0. Now, I hold an American passport but I can tell you I was cheering for the yellow and greens. The men's team went out under a cloud after a lacklustre display against Argentina in the semis, but the women showed real fighting spirit for 120 minutes. When they lost most of them collapsed on the field in tears. The cameras panned to the crowd to show their mothers weeping too. As the commentator said afterwords: "There has never been a more beautiful silver medal won by Brazil!".
Rachel's cousin Ren and her family have been in Beijing catching the Olympics. She's written some interesting entries on her blog about her experiences there if anyone's interested. Click here for those.
Maclure blog banned in China. OK, this was a weird story coming out of the blogosphere this week. MADDOGS&ENGLISH, just one of my many random blogs, has been blocked by the Chinese authorities. Even more surreal was that the person who notified me about it was a Mr.Thor May. Thor May is quite a name in the world of English Teaching and somebody I read and cited in a recent ET seminar I gave: I was astonished! I'm not sure what the point of this story is - it's just another yarn on how the internet is making the world a smaller place.
Learning from my students. I have a good set of students this semester and I'm excited about teaching 2 guys who are working towards the test to join the Brazilian diplomat service. One of the guys, a Mr. Daniel Dantas - a lawyer, wrote such an exceptionally good piece of writing about the problem of internet piracy that he not only convinced me my views were wrong, he used practically flawless academic English to say so.
All that glitters isn't gold. The nation mourns that neither the men nor women footballers will take gold away from the Beijing Olympics. The women's final was extraordinary. Brazil did everything but score and then they let one in to the Americans in extra time and lost it 1-0. Now, I hold an American passport but I can tell you I was cheering for the yellow and greens. The men's team went out under a cloud after a lacklustre display against Argentina in the semis, but the women showed real fighting spirit for 120 minutes. When they lost most of them collapsed on the field in tears. The cameras panned to the crowd to show their mothers weeping too. As the commentator said afterwords: "There has never been a more beautiful silver medal won by Brazil!".
Rachel's cousin Ren and her family have been in Beijing catching the Olympics. She's written some interesting entries on her blog about her experiences there if anyone's interested. Click here for those.
Maclure blog banned in China. OK, this was a weird story coming out of the blogosphere this week. MADDOGS&ENGLISH, just one of my many random blogs, has been blocked by the Chinese authorities. Even more surreal was that the person who notified me about it was a Mr.Thor May. Thor May is quite a name in the world of English Teaching and somebody I read and cited in a recent ET seminar I gave: I was astonished! I'm not sure what the point of this story is - it's just another yarn on how the internet is making the world a smaller place.
Learning from my students. I have a good set of students this semester and I'm excited about teaching 2 guys who are working towards the test to join the Brazilian diplomat service. One of the guys, a Mr. Daniel Dantas - a lawyer, wrote such an exceptionally good piece of writing about the problem of internet piracy that he not only convinced me my views were wrong, he used practically flawless academic English to say so.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Busy life and more people to stay. I seem to have a fairly packed teaching schedule again as the semester is really underway. I didn't realise until this week that one of my private students, Rafael, is the Governor's Grandson. His Mum also wants private lessons. With the local elections coming up, including Governor of the city, it will be interesting to see how interested the two of them are in an hour of English grammar when maybe they're expected to be making themselves busy electioneering.
Rachel's brother and girlfriend have come up to visit this weekend. It's been great to see them and we'll probably hit the beach this weekend. And with the football season starting back home, and a few more days of Olympics, there's plenty of ways to keep busy... oh, and I have to give a talk at church today in Portuguese. So, that's on my mind too.
Brazil shows Brazil. Natal has a large convention and conference centre situated on top of a sand dune overlooking the ocean. Rachel found out about an event there and we decided to get along as a family for an hour. The event was a fair, supposedly about informing Brazilians about the products their land exports. In other words, "educational". But, instead of a display of havaina flip-flops or a presentation on the export of Soya, the whole event, we realised as we got swept along by a tide of bargain-hunters, was actually a free-for-all time for sale shopping. Furthermore, we saw some decidely un-Brazilian things on offer - Nike T-shirts on discount, pirate DVDs of Hollywood films and most bizarrely some plastic, flashing, dancing crucifixes made in China as sold by an authentic Chinaman! As Rachel and I made our way back to the car after an hour of walking around we agreed - it was worth doing, but still the old addage remains: in Brazil always expect the unexpected.
Brazil @ the Olympics. I've never been out of the UK or the USA during the Olympics and it's interesting to me to see what the Olympics means to Brazilians and how it differs to being back home. Frequently over the last few days Rachel has been heard to exclaim to her friends and family how happy she is to be back here for this Olympics and not in the UK (in a holiday home in Cumbria to be exact) as was the case with Athens 2004. She says things like, "No more rowing! No more cycling! And thank heavens they don't show all 4 hours of the marathon like those Brits do!".
I, for one, would love to see a bit of the track and field but coverage of that has been reduced to the Jamaican Bolt taking the World Record in the 100m. Instead, the Olympics for Brazilians are about team sports and not individual performance - men's and women's handball, volleyball, beach volleyball and football occupy the most hours. The weight of expectation is on the men's football team who have never won Olympic gold - the only thing missing from Brazil's glistening record in football. Swimming and Judo make up the rest of the time. In the Judo, Brazil already garnered some bronze medals. In Swimming, Brazil won their first gold of these games in the 50m freestyle when the 21-year-old Cesar Cielo raced across the 50 metre pool in 21 and a half seconds beating his rival by 2 hundreths of a second or so. He, (blubbing away through the medal ceremony and for many hours afterwards) and his parents have featured endlessly on Brazilian TV stations since the impressive achievement. According to an article I read, President Lula himself called through to register his congratulations.
One more strange person: the under-cover cop. Last night, we took Rachel's brother and girlfriend to our favourite little tapioca place near Ponta Negra beach. On this occasion, we approached the establishment with extreme caution to see if we could spot the small, slightly chubby and extremely hairy man who had caused us a bit of grief at that exact same time and spot a week earlier when Ruth was here. If he was there I think we would've moved on, but he wasn't so we stayed.
There are many details to this, but the basics are...
Last Saturday as Ruth, Rach and I and the kids sat down for a tapioca we were joined by a man who wanted to practice his English with me. At first, we mistakenly imagined he was the restaurant owner welcoming us, but as time went on his manner went from very friendly (he invited us to his house for barbecue) to talkative (we covered some geography and politics and religion and Jesus) to oppresively talkative as he recounted intimate details of his life (he was a single Dad, his father had just died) and never stopped to listen to our responses.
The short story is he turned out to be an undercover cop (although, he kept assuring us he was a fair and honest cop, not given to taking bribes) and he was here to bust a night club on the street where there was a supposed paedophile stalking. He warned us not to stick around too late with the kids - we should take them to the "safety" of our home (don't worry, officer, we didn't fancy taking our kids to a nightclub where paedophiles stalk anyway!). He then emptied his utility belt on the table, stopping at one point to tell us he had a gun, then proceeded to under-pay his bill (the waiter didn't argue - they were more interested in getting him out of there as the restaurant had emptied!) and finally, we drew a line under our "friendship" when he called for police back-up and got up from the table with his badge to arrest a bloke seemingly innocently walking past outside.
Ruth, Rachel and I talked a while about how to respond to a situation like that. And I've been praying for the guy in question - he is obviously a bit lonely, very emotional (who knows what he witnesses/does as part of his job) and if he has had tragedy in his life recently then maybe he is struggling to deal with it. Even so, when his behaviour started to turn sour bordering on aggressive and there was a discrepancy between his words and actions (I am an honest cop / I won't pay all this bill!) and he has a gun - then, of course, getting us and the kids out of there has to be a priority, doesn't it? I think I still have his card - should I contact him? I probably won't. But, what would Jesus do?
Rachel's brother and girlfriend have come up to visit this weekend. It's been great to see them and we'll probably hit the beach this weekend. And with the football season starting back home, and a few more days of Olympics, there's plenty of ways to keep busy... oh, and I have to give a talk at church today in Portuguese. So, that's on my mind too.
Brazil shows Brazil. Natal has a large convention and conference centre situated on top of a sand dune overlooking the ocean. Rachel found out about an event there and we decided to get along as a family for an hour. The event was a fair, supposedly about informing Brazilians about the products their land exports. In other words, "educational". But, instead of a display of havaina flip-flops or a presentation on the export of Soya, the whole event, we realised as we got swept along by a tide of bargain-hunters, was actually a free-for-all time for sale shopping. Furthermore, we saw some decidely un-Brazilian things on offer - Nike T-shirts on discount, pirate DVDs of Hollywood films and most bizarrely some plastic, flashing, dancing crucifixes made in China as sold by an authentic Chinaman! As Rachel and I made our way back to the car after an hour of walking around we agreed - it was worth doing, but still the old addage remains: in Brazil always expect the unexpected.
Brazil @ the Olympics. I've never been out of the UK or the USA during the Olympics and it's interesting to me to see what the Olympics means to Brazilians and how it differs to being back home. Frequently over the last few days Rachel has been heard to exclaim to her friends and family how happy she is to be back here for this Olympics and not in the UK (in a holiday home in Cumbria to be exact) as was the case with Athens 2004. She says things like, "No more rowing! No more cycling! And thank heavens they don't show all 4 hours of the marathon like those Brits do!".
I, for one, would love to see a bit of the track and field but coverage of that has been reduced to the Jamaican Bolt taking the World Record in the 100m. Instead, the Olympics for Brazilians are about team sports and not individual performance - men's and women's handball, volleyball, beach volleyball and football occupy the most hours. The weight of expectation is on the men's football team who have never won Olympic gold - the only thing missing from Brazil's glistening record in football. Swimming and Judo make up the rest of the time. In the Judo, Brazil already garnered some bronze medals. In Swimming, Brazil won their first gold of these games in the 50m freestyle when the 21-year-old Cesar Cielo raced across the 50 metre pool in 21 and a half seconds beating his rival by 2 hundreths of a second or so. He, (blubbing away through the medal ceremony and for many hours afterwards) and his parents have featured endlessly on Brazilian TV stations since the impressive achievement. According to an article I read, President Lula himself called through to register his congratulations.
One more strange person: the under-cover cop. Last night, we took Rachel's brother and girlfriend to our favourite little tapioca place near Ponta Negra beach. On this occasion, we approached the establishment with extreme caution to see if we could spot the small, slightly chubby and extremely hairy man who had caused us a bit of grief at that exact same time and spot a week earlier when Ruth was here. If he was there I think we would've moved on, but he wasn't so we stayed.
There are many details to this, but the basics are...
Last Saturday as Ruth, Rach and I and the kids sat down for a tapioca we were joined by a man who wanted to practice his English with me. At first, we mistakenly imagined he was the restaurant owner welcoming us, but as time went on his manner went from very friendly (he invited us to his house for barbecue) to talkative (we covered some geography and politics and religion and Jesus) to oppresively talkative as he recounted intimate details of his life (he was a single Dad, his father had just died) and never stopped to listen to our responses.
The short story is he turned out to be an undercover cop (although, he kept assuring us he was a fair and honest cop, not given to taking bribes) and he was here to bust a night club on the street where there was a supposed paedophile stalking. He warned us not to stick around too late with the kids - we should take them to the "safety" of our home (don't worry, officer, we didn't fancy taking our kids to a nightclub where paedophiles stalk anyway!). He then emptied his utility belt on the table, stopping at one point to tell us he had a gun, then proceeded to under-pay his bill (the waiter didn't argue - they were more interested in getting him out of there as the restaurant had emptied!) and finally, we drew a line under our "friendship" when he called for police back-up and got up from the table with his badge to arrest a bloke seemingly innocently walking past outside.
Ruth, Rachel and I talked a while about how to respond to a situation like that. And I've been praying for the guy in question - he is obviously a bit lonely, very emotional (who knows what he witnesses/does as part of his job) and if he has had tragedy in his life recently then maybe he is struggling to deal with it. Even so, when his behaviour started to turn sour bordering on aggressive and there was a discrepancy between his words and actions (I am an honest cop / I won't pay all this bill!) and he has a gun - then, of course, getting us and the kids out of there has to be a priority, doesn't it? I think I still have his card - should I contact him? I probably won't. But, what would Jesus do?
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
The strange people we left behind: part 3. Above is a picture of Hugh, one of the Gillum lads who visited us this July. Hugh is the one nearest the camera, a rugby-playing, 6-foot-something, university student. He was accosted by a "strange" (read "drunk") person near our house when he was here. The fellow in question saddled up asking for money. But, before long, the older guy's earnestness gave way to a toothless grin which barely masked the stench of alcohol... Clad in a flourescent yellow football shirt, he positively embraced the bewildered Hugh exclaiming: "Zidane! Zidane! Ess aqui e Zinadene Zidane!". Well, in as much as Hugh was a tall foreigner, he was Zidane. Hugh says it's because the guy saw him play football.
Anyway, this example of another strange person reminds me of the man at the end of my road who was also occasionally inebriated and also had some severe dental problems. The chap in question did not seem to have a regular job, or rather, a job that earned money. As far as I could see, it was his "job" to pace up and down the street without a shirt on, occasionally have a tipple, then open his burger bar in the evening. By this I mean, he would wheel out an ampley-sized trolley from his house which had a hot plate attached. He would power the trolley (and a small TV too) from an extension wire that ran 20 yards up the road into his house. And at the corner he would pass the time between about 6 and 10 serving burgers to passers by. I never once had one despite frequently "promising" him that I would - I just couldn't risk the hospital bills. I later concluded this guy was some sort of big shot in the local mafia as everyone who was anybody eventually ate burgers at his bar. Perhaps he had a protection racket and this was how he earned his dosh. It felt like eating a burger from his bar was some sacred rite of passage into greater prestige and fame. Either way, we will be moderatley sad to say goodbye to him.
Round the corner from our friend's burger bar was a fantastic little restaurant called Matalao. I honestly regret not discovering this gem earlier - they served a buffet lunch of traditional Brazilian food at a fair price and before we left we were practically in the habit of going down there once a week, for lunch on Saturday. Nelsinho for one was a fan of their beans and farofa. The people there were utterly un-strange it has to be said - the place had the feel of a family business and everyone was efficient and courteous. It was the guy outside who was a little old. He was by far the best dressed "car shepherd" I had ever seen, at least from the ankles up. He set about ushering vehicles in and out of parking spaces with customary rigour. And, as an older man, with a suit and shirt and havaiana flip-flops, one couldn't begrudge him his 1Real even if he hadn't really done a lot to deserve it.
It would be unfair to say that the wacky people in our neighbourhood were just Brazilian. Brazilians don't monopolise randomness, I think they're just not ashamed to display it publically. Whatever, behind us and parallel to us lived Bob - a British man, easily in his 60s who ran a massage parlour and taught English on the side. I would sometimes pop round to chat to him as he seemed to appreciate somebody to speak English too. Generally, I found he didn't have a lot positive to say about anything and he inherited a 1950s political correctness which has never gone away. This is because he left the UK during that decade and has never been back once. Instead, he seems to have stumbled across half the world (he started out in Australia) making and losing and pilfering the cash he needed to live until he got to the place where he his now. He, like several missionaries and English teachers I have met, is an example of that strange animal: the ex-pat Brit who has a faded and twisted, but nonetheless prominant, version of Britishness which is carried and displayed with pride. God bless, Bob.
Anyway, this example of another strange person reminds me of the man at the end of my road who was also occasionally inebriated and also had some severe dental problems. The chap in question did not seem to have a regular job, or rather, a job that earned money. As far as I could see, it was his "job" to pace up and down the street without a shirt on, occasionally have a tipple, then open his burger bar in the evening. By this I mean, he would wheel out an ampley-sized trolley from his house which had a hot plate attached. He would power the trolley (and a small TV too) from an extension wire that ran 20 yards up the road into his house. And at the corner he would pass the time between about 6 and 10 serving burgers to passers by. I never once had one despite frequently "promising" him that I would - I just couldn't risk the hospital bills. I later concluded this guy was some sort of big shot in the local mafia as everyone who was anybody eventually ate burgers at his bar. Perhaps he had a protection racket and this was how he earned his dosh. It felt like eating a burger from his bar was some sacred rite of passage into greater prestige and fame. Either way, we will be moderatley sad to say goodbye to him.
Round the corner from our friend's burger bar was a fantastic little restaurant called Matalao. I honestly regret not discovering this gem earlier - they served a buffet lunch of traditional Brazilian food at a fair price and before we left we were practically in the habit of going down there once a week, for lunch on Saturday. Nelsinho for one was a fan of their beans and farofa. The people there were utterly un-strange it has to be said - the place had the feel of a family business and everyone was efficient and courteous. It was the guy outside who was a little old. He was by far the best dressed "car shepherd" I had ever seen, at least from the ankles up. He set about ushering vehicles in and out of parking spaces with customary rigour. And, as an older man, with a suit and shirt and havaiana flip-flops, one couldn't begrudge him his 1Real even if he hadn't really done a lot to deserve it.
It would be unfair to say that the wacky people in our neighbourhood were just Brazilian. Brazilians don't monopolise randomness, I think they're just not ashamed to display it publically. Whatever, behind us and parallel to us lived Bob - a British man, easily in his 60s who ran a massage parlour and taught English on the side. I would sometimes pop round to chat to him as he seemed to appreciate somebody to speak English too. Generally, I found he didn't have a lot positive to say about anything and he inherited a 1950s political correctness which has never gone away. This is because he left the UK during that decade and has never been back once. Instead, he seems to have stumbled across half the world (he started out in Australia) making and losing and pilfering the cash he needed to live until he got to the place where he his now. He, like several missionaries and English teachers I have met, is an example of that strange animal: the ex-pat Brit who has a faded and twisted, but nonetheless prominant, version of Britishness which is carried and displayed with pride. God bless, Bob.
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
The strange people we left behind: part 2. We finally hand over the keys to our old house today and so it was with a forlorn wave to Rua das Violetas that we say goodbye. You already met the woman called Keith (scroll down two posts) who works in the shop near our old house, but it's also the colourful characters who lived on our road who, while we may not consciously miss them, we will certainly never forget. Above, holding Gloria, is Percia, the mother of Jercia (the other little girl in the photo). Jercia's Grandma is called Mercia. All 3 generations of -ercia's lived in the house opposite us.
Further down the road was the woman with the bug eyes and poodle (see here for a mention of her) - font of all knowledge on the street. Her wild and woolly stories to Rachel were often the stuff of legend. An excerpt: "Did you hear that a baby was left on the door step of a house on the next street!? The owners of the house took the baby in, but the next week my friend says she saw a mad woman roaming the streets looking for a lost child!". We never had anyway to verify the provenance of her stories, and we were always left a little unsure as to how to continue conversations... "É mesmo? Não acredito...".
Up the road was the small, quiet, whispery man (he featured in this story). Despite first impressions that he was a bit touched he turned out to be surprisingly lucid. I recently once chatted to him in the street much to the consternation of several of the neighbours who, with gaping mouths had all paused mid-whatever-they-were-doing to eye-ball the spectacle of a gringo speaking Portuguese. At the end, I turned to walk away and I think the whispery man felt that he should at least try to bring God into the conversation. The context for this being that our household was the only non-Catholic stronghold on the street and most of those around us assumed we were at best heathens and at worst devil-worshippers. Anyway, the small whispery man whispered after me as I turned to walk on: "Vai com Deus"(Go with God). Maybe he didn't expect to be heard (he must be used to this after years of whispering) or maybe he was surprised I had a response - but I turned around walked right back, placed my hand on his shoulder and said: "Vai com Deus, tambem" (You go with God, too). All I could hear as I turned to leave once more was the soft thudding of half-a-dozen jaws hitting the pavement.
Funnily enough, close to the whispery man lived a Sr. Wilson - a very friendly man who would barrel over to our plot, often sauntering through our gate to tussle Nelson's hair and have a chat from time to time. First impressions were - here is a pleasant and clearly on-the-ball man. However, he never learned our names (nor Nelson's) despite repeatedly being told and he never seemed to remember I was a foreigner. Every time I spoke to him he retained the same look of utter horror as the realisation dawned on him I wasn't Brazilian. We expected it was he, and not the small whispery man, who was in fact a little touched.
Further down the road was the woman with the bug eyes and poodle (see here for a mention of her) - font of all knowledge on the street. Her wild and woolly stories to Rachel were often the stuff of legend. An excerpt: "Did you hear that a baby was left on the door step of a house on the next street!? The owners of the house took the baby in, but the next week my friend says she saw a mad woman roaming the streets looking for a lost child!". We never had anyway to verify the provenance of her stories, and we were always left a little unsure as to how to continue conversations... "É mesmo? Não acredito...".
Up the road was the small, quiet, whispery man (he featured in this story). Despite first impressions that he was a bit touched he turned out to be surprisingly lucid. I recently once chatted to him in the street much to the consternation of several of the neighbours who, with gaping mouths had all paused mid-whatever-they-were-doing to eye-ball the spectacle of a gringo speaking Portuguese. At the end, I turned to walk away and I think the whispery man felt that he should at least try to bring God into the conversation. The context for this being that our household was the only non-Catholic stronghold on the street and most of those around us assumed we were at best heathens and at worst devil-worshippers. Anyway, the small whispery man whispered after me as I turned to walk on: "Vai com Deus"(Go with God). Maybe he didn't expect to be heard (he must be used to this after years of whispering) or maybe he was surprised I had a response - but I turned around walked right back, placed my hand on his shoulder and said: "Vai com Deus, tambem" (You go with God, too). All I could hear as I turned to leave once more was the soft thudding of half-a-dozen jaws hitting the pavement.
Funnily enough, close to the whispery man lived a Sr. Wilson - a very friendly man who would barrel over to our plot, often sauntering through our gate to tussle Nelson's hair and have a chat from time to time. First impressions were - here is a pleasant and clearly on-the-ball man. However, he never learned our names (nor Nelson's) despite repeatedly being told and he never seemed to remember I was a foreigner. Every time I spoke to him he retained the same look of utter horror as the realisation dawned on him I wasn't Brazilian. We expected it was he, and not the small whispery man, who was in fact a little touched.
Friday, August 01, 2008
The Ruth is out there (and now she's back again). We're very pleased to welcome back Ruth Leckenby after her 4 week mission trip in Olinda. Ruth was a very welcome guest last year (see her excellent guest blog entries on here) and now with Portuguese phrase book under one arm, a plate of beans in the other she is confronting Brazil - and her fear of frogs - like a seasoned traveller. After an exhauting and at times hairy few weeks working with Brazil's most disadvantaged, Ruth is recouping (we hope) in sunny Natal. Ruth very generously brought us a bevvy of gifts from the UK, including specially selected food items based on the "Things I miss..." section of this blog. So, as the picture above testifies, I was able to have a more or less English breakfast with the essential ingredient of Baked Beans.
NB. Brazilians are very curious about the famous Heinz Baked Beans because Brazilians take their beans very seriously. Generally, on tasting them, Brazilians don't rate them too highly preferring to rapidly reach for a pot of their famous feijão instead. In other words - it's just like English football: We hear a lot about it, but the quality isn't a patch on the home grown variety.
July pictures. July was a packed month with a lot going on - some pictures here if you're interested. (Facebook people will already have seen these).
Nelson sleeps to 6.54am shock! By cutting our son's daytime naps down we have induced a spate of post-6 lie-ins. And, given that Gloria doesn't trouble anyone until 7.30am, my sleep silos are slowly being replenished, praise God!
Welcome Isla Kippin, sister to Esme and Scott. More baby girls in the Maclure side of the family. Congratulations to Anna and Richard!
NB. Brazilians are very curious about the famous Heinz Baked Beans because Brazilians take their beans very seriously. Generally, on tasting them, Brazilians don't rate them too highly preferring to rapidly reach for a pot of their famous feijão instead. In other words - it's just like English football: We hear a lot about it, but the quality isn't a patch on the home grown variety.
July pictures. July was a packed month with a lot going on - some pictures here if you're interested. (Facebook people will already have seen these).
Nelson sleeps to 6.54am shock! By cutting our son's daytime naps down we have induced a spate of post-6 lie-ins. And, given that Gloria doesn't trouble anyone until 7.30am, my sleep silos are slowly being replenished, praise God!
Welcome Isla Kippin, sister to Esme and Scott. More baby girls in the Maclure side of the family. Congratulations to Anna and Richard!
Friday, July 25, 2008
A postcard from on the road...
Dear faithful readers,
Thanks for your patience with slightly slower blog updating. We've been entertaining some wonderful guests and we've also been on the move. All in all, time on internet has decreased greatly. Today, we saw off the extraordinary Gillums and their 5 kids and we're in Recife with Rachel's folks. All being well, we should be picking up Ruth Leckenby - back for more! - and taking her up to Natal for a well-deserved break after her mission work. Tomorrow, weather permitting, Rach and I and our chappy and chapette will be off to Porto de Galinhas for a 24 hour "relaxing" holiday.
Normal service to resume next week.
DM
Dear faithful readers,
Thanks for your patience with slightly slower blog updating. We've been entertaining some wonderful guests and we've also been on the move. All in all, time on internet has decreased greatly. Today, we saw off the extraordinary Gillums and their 5 kids and we're in Recife with Rachel's folks. All being well, we should be picking up Ruth Leckenby - back for more! - and taking her up to Natal for a well-deserved break after her mission work. Tomorrow, weather permitting, Rach and I and our chappy and chapette will be off to Porto de Galinhas for a 24 hour "relaxing" holiday.
Normal service to resume next week.
DM
Thursday, July 17, 2008
The strange people we left behind: part 1. Moving to a new apartment block was definitely for the best, but I'm sure we'll be sorry to see the back of our neighbourhood as it certainly had some colourful characters in it. In particular, we will probably miss the employees of Palader Satanejer. PS is a small delhi which sells authentic Natalense meat, cheese, cakes, bread, alcohol, beans, nuts and sweets and a lot else besides. It's extremely well-run and is worth a visit just for the colours, flavours and smells. Nelson is always is in awe of the various things hanging from the ceiling - a stuffed cow's head, a bottled crab, a side of dried beef, a large bunch of some unknown fruit...
Anyway, the other day I paid them a visit and under the premise that as we had moved I wanted photos of the shop that I missed, I waltzed in with my new camera and after asking permission started snapping away. What I REALLY wanted a picture of, though, was the framed headshots of some of the employees that were propped up on the counter. The reason being, one of them is named Keith. Not so unusual, I hear you say. But, wait for it, SHE'S A LADY!!!!! Let me repeat that again. In the shop near to where we lived is a WOMAN NAMED KEITH!!!!! How funny is that? So, I was delighted I managed to get photographic evidence of a picture of the bizarrely-named female in question.
My father-in-law thinks that probably she is called Keith becuase her parents wanted to call her Katie but misspelt it - or rather, spelt it phonetically as you would say it in Portuguese. When presented with the written word KEITH a Brazilian would probably pronounce the name as KATIE.
Dad is 60, not out. Well done Dad on another milestone.
Danny is 28, not out. And congrats to my ol pal Danny "My Son" Byrne on becoming 28 yesterday. As it would happen the Byrnes sent us not one, not three, but TWO huge parcels from the UK which arrived yesterday too. So, now Nelson has a bowling game, I have a CD and curry and Rach has some cosmetics... we're very grateful indeed. In fact, seeing as I forgot it was Danny's birthday yesterday, I feel doubley indebted to our good friends from York. Voçes estão demais!
Anyway, the other day I paid them a visit and under the premise that as we had moved I wanted photos of the shop that I missed, I waltzed in with my new camera and after asking permission started snapping away. What I REALLY wanted a picture of, though, was the framed headshots of some of the employees that were propped up on the counter. The reason being, one of them is named Keith. Not so unusual, I hear you say. But, wait for it, SHE'S A LADY!!!!! Let me repeat that again. In the shop near to where we lived is a WOMAN NAMED KEITH!!!!! How funny is that? So, I was delighted I managed to get photographic evidence of a picture of the bizarrely-named female in question.
My father-in-law thinks that probably she is called Keith becuase her parents wanted to call her Katie but misspelt it - or rather, spelt it phonetically as you would say it in Portuguese. When presented with the written word KEITH a Brazilian would probably pronounce the name as KATIE.
Dad is 60, not out. Well done Dad on another milestone.
Danny is 28, not out. And congrats to my ol pal Danny "My Son" Byrne on becoming 28 yesterday. As it would happen the Byrnes sent us not one, not three, but TWO huge parcels from the UK which arrived yesterday too. So, now Nelson has a bowling game, I have a CD and curry and Rach has some cosmetics... we're very grateful indeed. In fact, seeing as I forgot it was Danny's birthday yesterday, I feel doubley indebted to our good friends from York. Voçes estão demais!
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Manchester Barlows. We're entering a time of hosting wonderful people visiting us in Natal. Steve's cousin Paul and his family are across from Manchester for their first visit to Brazil. So, it was off to the beach today and they braved the infamous dune buggy rides. So far they all seem happy enough and not too sunburnt. Although, they did have a lot to say about the "style" of Brazilian driving.
Language ups and downs. As I've said before on here, I'm excited because (finally) my Portuguese is reaching levels of some fluency where I can communicate fairly freely. I took an online Portuguese proficiency test and was labelled as Advanced Intermediate level. But, seeing as that was only reading and grammar and not listening or speaking or writing it's a debatable grading.
Nevertheless, the language is on the up. What I've found, though, is a strange thing. Linguists probably have a name for this, but in familiar topic areas where I can speak without having to think too much I have become quite lazy with my Portuguese opting for the easiest and sometimes semi-accurate route to communicating. Steve says that his Dad arrived in Brazil, reached that level and stayed with it for 50 years. I'll try not to let that happen, but let me give you an example of a small slip-up that I made this week, which I shouldn't have made if I was trying a bit harder. We had some guests over for lunch but didn't have enough knives (long story) to set all the places so I suggested to Ana, the lady who helps in the house, that we use spoons. I kept saying to her "Pode usar coelho. Simplesmente, pode botar coelho". She returned a puzzled look. After a while she held up a spoon and said, "colher?". It was then that it dawned on me that I had said "coelho" when I had meant to say "colher". Instead of suggesting she put out spoons in place of knives, I was asking her to lay out rabbits on the table. Most peculiar and a timely lesson to me to keep thinking about what I'm saying in somebody else's language.
John Stauffacher. My mother's brother, an elderly and frail man in his 70s, passed away last night after a battle with cancer. So, lots of prayers going up for that side of the family. We feel blessed to have known this wonderful Christian man who served in France as a missionary with his wife for his entire adult life. Last summer we had the chance to visit France and introduce Nelson to his great Uncle - that encounter seems especially poignant now.
Language ups and downs. As I've said before on here, I'm excited because (finally) my Portuguese is reaching levels of some fluency where I can communicate fairly freely. I took an online Portuguese proficiency test and was labelled as Advanced Intermediate level. But, seeing as that was only reading and grammar and not listening or speaking or writing it's a debatable grading.
Nevertheless, the language is on the up. What I've found, though, is a strange thing. Linguists probably have a name for this, but in familiar topic areas where I can speak without having to think too much I have become quite lazy with my Portuguese opting for the easiest and sometimes semi-accurate route to communicating. Steve says that his Dad arrived in Brazil, reached that level and stayed with it for 50 years. I'll try not to let that happen, but let me give you an example of a small slip-up that I made this week, which I shouldn't have made if I was trying a bit harder. We had some guests over for lunch but didn't have enough knives (long story) to set all the places so I suggested to Ana, the lady who helps in the house, that we use spoons. I kept saying to her "Pode usar coelho. Simplesmente, pode botar coelho". She returned a puzzled look. After a while she held up a spoon and said, "colher?". It was then that it dawned on me that I had said "coelho" when I had meant to say "colher". Instead of suggesting she put out spoons in place of knives, I was asking her to lay out rabbits on the table. Most peculiar and a timely lesson to me to keep thinking about what I'm saying in somebody else's language.
John Stauffacher. My mother's brother, an elderly and frail man in his 70s, passed away last night after a battle with cancer. So, lots of prayers going up for that side of the family. We feel blessed to have known this wonderful Christian man who served in France as a missionary with his wife for his entire adult life. Last summer we had the chance to visit France and introduce Nelson to his great Uncle - that encounter seems especially poignant now.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Huge bang. Rach and I sat bolt upright in bed this morning at 5.30am when we heard a huge explosion several hundred yards away. Given that our new home is within a kilometre of a military training base, and given that yesterday they sent 5 low-flying helicopters over our heads (which sent Nelson into conniptions) I was expecting to see the opening salvos of World War III outside our window this morning. But, thankfully, it was "only" an electricity power box exploding, cutting all the electricity (including traffic lights) in the neighbourhood. It's back on now, which is good.
The 16th Sertoes Rally of Brazil. Much to the delight of Nelson and his Dad, an off-road Brazilian rally finished in Natal at the end of June. Unfortunately, we didn't know about it far enough in advance to see the cars race on the dunes live (although we did catch a report on the TV) but we did see evidence of the rally around time. A trip to Camaroes restaurant to say goodbye to Aunt Amy returning to the UK suddenly became even more interesting when the car park was filled with the Mercedes rally team - lots of huge trucks with grubby, stickered exteriors was enough to inspire Nelson to a big "WWWOOOOOWWWWW". The drivers and team and some local press were in the restaurant enjoying an end of rally party. A few days later and Rachel and I went to a shopping centre and found the Mitsibushi team parked on the top floor of the car park (see pic). Cue another "WWOOOOWWWWWWWW" from Nelson. Oddly, there was also an exhibition of farm animals on the same level of the car park as well as a kid's theme park. Amazing what you can find in a shopping centre car park in Brazil.
Rachel's Granny Lali's 80th. Several weeks have passed but I feel I can't really neglect to mention the huge family knees-up that occurred in Joao Pessoa at the end of June either. Laulau or Lali is a larger than life character, mother of 6, grandmother and great grandmother to countless (see pic with her and Nelson and Gloria) and she expected, organised and warranted a huge party to celebrate a significant milestone. The focus of the weekend was a 2 hour service on Saturday evening at the 1st Presybterian Church of Joao Pessoa where Laulau is a faithful attender and member of the choir. All family were dressed for the occasion, which meant suits and ties for the men, and we were all paraded in as Laulau read out our names. The service included a 45-minute sermon from the pastor who exhorted us to shine brilliantly like Jesus and look to Laulau as an example of somebody who has lived this out. After the service it was downstairs for food and some "short" speeches by select members of the family. But, once Laulau herself took the mic there wasn't a lot of hoping of getting it back again as she regaled us with endless stories (she did the same last year it seems). It was a great night, but poor Nelson was absolutely exhausted when he finally collapsed asleep in the car at 11.30pm. At 5am he was awake and ready to play...
...unlike Gloria. Nelson's sister needs to teach him some lessons on how to sleep. She managed 22 total hours asleep last Wednesday, waking only for feeds. Last night both her and Nelson managed to sleep the whole night through without waking - Nelson woke at 5.30am, Gloria woke at 7am and went back to sleep at 8am until mid-day. We think her preference for sleep is partly inspired by being the daughter of her mother and because she's figured out being asleep is so much more relaxing than waking life when your brother is a poking, hugging, kissing, slapping, prodding, pushing, stroking, patting, picking, cuddling, pulling, shouting, screaming, talking, whispering, surprising kind of guy. She seems to take it all in her stride though and beams huge smiles at all of us now, including Nelson.
The 16th Sertoes Rally of Brazil. Much to the delight of Nelson and his Dad, an off-road Brazilian rally finished in Natal at the end of June. Unfortunately, we didn't know about it far enough in advance to see the cars race on the dunes live (although we did catch a report on the TV) but we did see evidence of the rally around time. A trip to Camaroes restaurant to say goodbye to Aunt Amy returning to the UK suddenly became even more interesting when the car park was filled with the Mercedes rally team - lots of huge trucks with grubby, stickered exteriors was enough to inspire Nelson to a big "WWWOOOOOWWWWW". The drivers and team and some local press were in the restaurant enjoying an end of rally party. A few days later and Rachel and I went to a shopping centre and found the Mitsibushi team parked on the top floor of the car park (see pic). Cue another "WWOOOOWWWWWWWW" from Nelson. Oddly, there was also an exhibition of farm animals on the same level of the car park as well as a kid's theme park. Amazing what you can find in a shopping centre car park in Brazil.
Rachel's Granny Lali's 80th. Several weeks have passed but I feel I can't really neglect to mention the huge family knees-up that occurred in Joao Pessoa at the end of June either. Laulau or Lali is a larger than life character, mother of 6, grandmother and great grandmother to countless (see pic with her and Nelson and Gloria) and she expected, organised and warranted a huge party to celebrate a significant milestone. The focus of the weekend was a 2 hour service on Saturday evening at the 1st Presybterian Church of Joao Pessoa where Laulau is a faithful attender and member of the choir. All family were dressed for the occasion, which meant suits and ties for the men, and we were all paraded in as Laulau read out our names. The service included a 45-minute sermon from the pastor who exhorted us to shine brilliantly like Jesus and look to Laulau as an example of somebody who has lived this out. After the service it was downstairs for food and some "short" speeches by select members of the family. But, once Laulau herself took the mic there wasn't a lot of hoping of getting it back again as she regaled us with endless stories (she did the same last year it seems). It was a great night, but poor Nelson was absolutely exhausted when he finally collapsed asleep in the car at 11.30pm. At 5am he was awake and ready to play...
...unlike Gloria. Nelson's sister needs to teach him some lessons on how to sleep. She managed 22 total hours asleep last Wednesday, waking only for feeds. Last night both her and Nelson managed to sleep the whole night through without waking - Nelson woke at 5.30am, Gloria woke at 7am and went back to sleep at 8am until mid-day. We think her preference for sleep is partly inspired by being the daughter of her mother and because she's figured out being asleep is so much more relaxing than waking life when your brother is a poking, hugging, kissing, slapping, prodding, pushing, stroking, patting, picking, cuddling, pulling, shouting, screaming, talking, whispering, surprising kind of guy. She seems to take it all in her stride though and beams huge smiles at all of us now, including Nelson.
Friday, July 04, 2008
OK, OK, we get the idea. I'm carrying my new birthday camera around everywhere which means its handy for any slightly odd or obscure thing I see. Actually, Rach and I often chuckle at the frequent occurrence of random things we come across just from driving around - a donkey standing in the middle of the road with nobody around, a man taking 15 dogs for a walk, a man juggling fire for money at the traffic lights, a huge hole in the road when there wasn't one there yesterday, a strike or protest of something or other... Anyway, we saw this picture above at a petrol station. They seem pretty adamant about not accepting any sort of payment by cards, don`t they? I wonder if they accept cash? If so, I bet they don't have any change.
Legião Urbana (Urban Legion). Back in Recife, Rach managed to dig out two CDs for the Brazilian band Legião Urbana for me. I'd first heard their music when it was playing on the loudspeaker at the Maracajau water park. Rach rolled her eyes when I said I liked it. This was the band all of her friends were into at school but she obstinately refused to listen to. They're kind of the Brazilian Smiths, and I think some of their songs exhibit a heavy REM influence (no bad thing). In many ways the band were known for being anti-religious or anti-church, but my current favourite is the ballad "Monte Castelo" from their album Os Quatro Estaçoes (The Four Seasons). It's a well-known song of theirs from circa 1989 based on the famous words of 1 Corinthians 13 from the Bible. You can watch a performance of it here.
James Blunt. Speaking of music, one of the worst imports of music here from the UK has to be James Blunt's tepid and squeeky vocal performances as sung over the top of predict-a-chord dirgey songs. Unfortunately for us, (but darned lucky for him and his publicity machine) a James Blunt song is being used as the theme to a Brazlian Globo TV soap opera called Duas Caras (Two faces). Now, James Blunt can count among his fans every middle-aged housewife in Brazil as well as every middle-aged housewife in the UK. Ana, the lady who helps in our house, listens to a radio station that plays only Brazilian popular music and James Blunt. Caramba! The song is all over YouTube, but someone has helpfully put Portuguese subtitles over this video of Mr.Blunt perfoming the number in question.
(Small fact: did you know that the Globo's soap operas are so famous and widely watched and Globo is itself such a huge a corporation that they can insist on late kick-offs for any domestic or international Brazilian football fixture so the match doesn't cut into soap opera time. This annoyingly means all major evening games, including Wednesday's Libertadores Final, start at the ridiculous time of 9.50pm!!! If the game goes to penatlies, as it did on Wednesday, it finishes after midnight. I'm always asleep by the second half).
Congrats to cousin Simon and wife Katie on the arrival of Lucie Iona Payne.
Things I miss about England #71: General administrative competence. OK, so it's debatable if this is even such a good thing in England given the numerous horror stories we have in trying to secure VISAs and passports or sign up for a new phone deal or phone the DVLA, but Brazil, on average has to be a lot worse. Don't get me wrong - it's not all bad. My ID arrived in one piece (after 18 months) and we recently got Gloria her Brazilian ID relatively painlessly. But, trying to get Gloria registered as a British citizen is not proving to be easy given there is a postal strike on at the moment. Furthermore, moving house and trying to switch our cable and internet providers and trying to get a spare key from the estate agents is proving to be a jumbled mix of red tape, conflicting stories and loopy administrating for poor Rachel who is burdened with sorting it out.
Things I love about Brazil #87: interesting city names. Our recent travels to Joao Pessoa and Recife and my plan to travel to Fortaleza this month have reminded me that Brazil has some excellent names for cities. Those three I mentioned translate literally as John Person, Reef and Fortress. Of course, we live in Christmas (Natal) which is close to the beach towns of Kite (Pipa) and Chicken Port (Porto da Galinhas) and down south there is Saviour (Salvador), January River (Rio do Janeiro), Saint Paul (Sao Paulo) and Happy Port (Porto Alegre). These names aren't like the ones we have in England are they? There ain't no Skegness, Cricklewood, Blackpool or Ponders End round here...
Oops, I've just noticed I have two entries for "fresh milk" in my things I miss about England list. Why didn't anyone tell me? I must really miss fresh milk to place it at both number 16 and number 48. In it's place (at number 48) I think I'll put celery, another food related item that I really miss...
This post has grown and grown to become another monster entry. Sorry folks.
Legião Urbana (Urban Legion). Back in Recife, Rach managed to dig out two CDs for the Brazilian band Legião Urbana for me. I'd first heard their music when it was playing on the loudspeaker at the Maracajau water park. Rach rolled her eyes when I said I liked it. This was the band all of her friends were into at school but she obstinately refused to listen to. They're kind of the Brazilian Smiths, and I think some of their songs exhibit a heavy REM influence (no bad thing). In many ways the band were known for being anti-religious or anti-church, but my current favourite is the ballad "Monte Castelo" from their album Os Quatro Estaçoes (The Four Seasons). It's a well-known song of theirs from circa 1989 based on the famous words of 1 Corinthians 13 from the Bible. You can watch a performance of it here.
James Blunt. Speaking of music, one of the worst imports of music here from the UK has to be James Blunt's tepid and squeeky vocal performances as sung over the top of predict-a-chord dirgey songs. Unfortunately for us, (but darned lucky for him and his publicity machine) a James Blunt song is being used as the theme to a Brazlian Globo TV soap opera called Duas Caras (Two faces). Now, James Blunt can count among his fans every middle-aged housewife in Brazil as well as every middle-aged housewife in the UK. Ana, the lady who helps in our house, listens to a radio station that plays only Brazilian popular music and James Blunt. Caramba! The song is all over YouTube, but someone has helpfully put Portuguese subtitles over this video of Mr.Blunt perfoming the number in question.
(Small fact: did you know that the Globo's soap operas are so famous and widely watched and Globo is itself such a huge a corporation that they can insist on late kick-offs for any domestic or international Brazilian football fixture so the match doesn't cut into soap opera time. This annoyingly means all major evening games, including Wednesday's Libertadores Final, start at the ridiculous time of 9.50pm!!! If the game goes to penatlies, as it did on Wednesday, it finishes after midnight. I'm always asleep by the second half).
Congrats to cousin Simon and wife Katie on the arrival of Lucie Iona Payne.
Things I miss about England #71: General administrative competence. OK, so it's debatable if this is even such a good thing in England given the numerous horror stories we have in trying to secure VISAs and passports or sign up for a new phone deal or phone the DVLA, but Brazil, on average has to be a lot worse. Don't get me wrong - it's not all bad. My ID arrived in one piece (after 18 months) and we recently got Gloria her Brazilian ID relatively painlessly. But, trying to get Gloria registered as a British citizen is not proving to be easy given there is a postal strike on at the moment. Furthermore, moving house and trying to switch our cable and internet providers and trying to get a spare key from the estate agents is proving to be a jumbled mix of red tape, conflicting stories and loopy administrating for poor Rachel who is burdened with sorting it out.
Things I love about Brazil #87: interesting city names. Our recent travels to Joao Pessoa and Recife and my plan to travel to Fortaleza this month have reminded me that Brazil has some excellent names for cities. Those three I mentioned translate literally as John Person, Reef and Fortress. Of course, we live in Christmas (Natal) which is close to the beach towns of Kite (Pipa) and Chicken Port (Porto da Galinhas) and down south there is Saviour (Salvador), January River (Rio do Janeiro), Saint Paul (Sao Paulo) and Happy Port (Porto Alegre). These names aren't like the ones we have in England are they? There ain't no Skegness, Cricklewood, Blackpool or Ponders End round here...
Oops, I've just noticed I have two entries for "fresh milk" in my things I miss about England list. Why didn't anyone tell me? I must really miss fresh milk to place it at both number 16 and number 48. In it's place (at number 48) I think I'll put celery, another food related item that I really miss...
This post has grown and grown to become another monster entry. Sorry folks.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
I'm no longer in my mid-20s, although perhaps I'm still in my mid- to late-20s. Today is my birthday and I am 28 which seems like a frightfully old age in many respects. I`ve been having a great few days, mostly thanks to Rach who has been working hard to fix up a few surprises. On Sunday I was relieved of parenting duties (Rach's parents were here to cover) so I could relax at the beach and my favourite restaurant without having to worry about the chidlers. In the afternoon I got to see the Spain vs Germany Euro 2008 final and was thrilled with the outcome - well done you Spaniards!
Yesterday, Rach surprised me at work when she hijacked the end of my lesson with my pastors to bring me more cake. For lunch, the grandparents gave Rach and I a couple of hours off to go to Sal e Brasa - an eat-all-you-can meatery (churrascaria) where meat is delivered on spits to your table and is carved off onto your plate. As Rach pointed out, we witnessed probably the finest display of efficient and vociferous waiting we have seen in any Brazilian restaurant to date. These guys were pros, the Premier League of Natal`s food serving workforce. And after the quantity I ate, let`s just say I didn't need to eat any dinner in the evening. Today, my actual birthday, I have a day off and a meal with some students tonight and tomorrow one of the pastor`s wives has invited us round for lunch to eat homemade seafood. I've recieved numerous gifts as well, the biggest and most suprising of which was a fantastic new digital camera from Rach's folks. Schmancy pics to be posted here soon.
Everything else. I have a small library's worth of content to post on here following an eventful few weeks - Nelson's 2nd birthday, travelling, Rach granny Lali's 80th birthday, moving house to a new apartment (with the subsequent parting of ways with the wonderfully eccentric community where we used to live) and finishing off the semester, marking tests and wishing students well. I'll try to get the highlights on here over the next few days. For now, I`ll leave you with just one story...
The incident of the lost key in the night. The move to our new apartment occurred last week with Rach and the kids in Recife, and me up here in Natal abley assisted in the rearranging by 3 colourful characters from the Cultura Inglesa. I've mentioned on here before the extraordinary Sr. Ricardo and Sr. Joaquim and my problems at communicating with them, but we also had on board Sr. Jose, a man of action who thanks to his hiring a trailer for the pick-up was instrumental in getting our stuff moved across town in time for Rach and the young ones' arrival on Thursday. All in all we did OK together despite the frequent mis-communications and occasional differences of opinion about moving methodology. I picked up a few colloquialisms too and I am now well aquainted with the Portuguese vocabulary for moving a house.
However, it was on the Monday of that week that Sr. Jose stayed at our old house and I decided to sleep at our new apartment to keep an eye on our stuff. After a day filled with the strenuous shifting of bulky furniture I felt I was entitled to a dip in the condominium pool late in the evening when it was already dark. Down I went, with just my swimming trunks on and carrying only my towel and the apartment key. After a delicious 5 minutes in the vacant pool enjoying the fireworks in the night sky that accompany the Sao Jaoa festival at this time of year, I got out to dry off. As I picked up my towel, I knocked the apartment key off the chair where it promptly dissapeared between two slats in the wooden floor that surrounds the pool and fell with a disconcerting clunk several feet below. Uh-oh, I thought. I'm screwed.
The pool, you see, is on a raised platform so I spent a few minutes circling the pool trying to find a way to get down under it. With no door or entrance in sight I sheepishly went to find the night porter. Dripping in just my swimming trunks, I explained in my best Portuguese that I was new to the apartment block, was staying there alone, and had just lost the only key underneath the pool. How could I get it back? The Porter laughed - "Nao e possivel. Tem que procurar amanha". I explained that waiting until tomorrow would not be so good unless I was expected to sleep outside in just my wet swimming gear. I'd like to try and look tonight as I had no mobile, no spare key and I was far too far from the old house to walk and I had no car keys and I didn't even know Sr. Jose's number to call him to pick me up. The Porter laughed some more. Finally, I asked for a torch so I could look for it myself - I just needed directing to how to get under the pool. "Vou te ensinar", said the Porter. I'll teach you.
Round the back of the pool the Porter showed me a creaky, rusty grate which he opened into a dark underworld. To get through the grate required getting down on all fours, and the small space under the pool was only about a metre high, high enough to crawl in at least. He handed me the torch. "Tem baratinha, aqui?" I asked sheepishly ("Are there any little cockroaches here?"). He assured me no. That's good I thought, unless he meant there were only big cockroaches, rats, snakes and scorpions. This is just like the Crystal Maze, I thought to myself chirpily, or perhaps a scene from a b-horror flic, I thought to myself not so chirpily. No matter, the key only fell a few meters away from the grate. But, as I moved forward with bare palms and knees on the concrete the Porter shouted after me that I couldn't go that way, I wasn't allowed to climb over the pool's piping. The only way to get to my key was by crawling around the perimeter of the pool. Oh crumbs, I thought as I painfully turned around and shuffled off into the blackness hoping to dear God the torch had sufficient battery power.
Well, the story ends happily. 10 minutes later, I had my key and was out and the dungeon under the swimming pool was surprisingly clean and lacking in critters. I returned the torch (cue another chuckle from the Porter) and made my way up to the apartment, grazed knees and all. Once in, I called Rach. "Honey, you won't believe what happened! Come back, all is forgiven! I am clearly supposed to be married to you on account of not being able to keep myself out of trouble for more than a day...".
On the plus side, we later thought, this didn't happen when I couldn't speak any Portuguese. I was pleasantly surprised to see that my Portuguese is certainly of a level where I could survive given most strange situations, of which this was certainly one. Thank God too that the key was recoverable then and there, or otherwise I could still be walking the streets of Natal semi-naked to this day...
Yesterday, Rach surprised me at work when she hijacked the end of my lesson with my pastors to bring me more cake. For lunch, the grandparents gave Rach and I a couple of hours off to go to Sal e Brasa - an eat-all-you-can meatery (churrascaria) where meat is delivered on spits to your table and is carved off onto your plate. As Rach pointed out, we witnessed probably the finest display of efficient and vociferous waiting we have seen in any Brazilian restaurant to date. These guys were pros, the Premier League of Natal`s food serving workforce. And after the quantity I ate, let`s just say I didn't need to eat any dinner in the evening. Today, my actual birthday, I have a day off and a meal with some students tonight and tomorrow one of the pastor`s wives has invited us round for lunch to eat homemade seafood. I've recieved numerous gifts as well, the biggest and most suprising of which was a fantastic new digital camera from Rach's folks. Schmancy pics to be posted here soon.
Everything else. I have a small library's worth of content to post on here following an eventful few weeks - Nelson's 2nd birthday, travelling, Rach granny Lali's 80th birthday, moving house to a new apartment (with the subsequent parting of ways with the wonderfully eccentric community where we used to live) and finishing off the semester, marking tests and wishing students well. I'll try to get the highlights on here over the next few days. For now, I`ll leave you with just one story...
The incident of the lost key in the night. The move to our new apartment occurred last week with Rach and the kids in Recife, and me up here in Natal abley assisted in the rearranging by 3 colourful characters from the Cultura Inglesa. I've mentioned on here before the extraordinary Sr. Ricardo and Sr. Joaquim and my problems at communicating with them, but we also had on board Sr. Jose, a man of action who thanks to his hiring a trailer for the pick-up was instrumental in getting our stuff moved across town in time for Rach and the young ones' arrival on Thursday. All in all we did OK together despite the frequent mis-communications and occasional differences of opinion about moving methodology. I picked up a few colloquialisms too and I am now well aquainted with the Portuguese vocabulary for moving a house.
However, it was on the Monday of that week that Sr. Jose stayed at our old house and I decided to sleep at our new apartment to keep an eye on our stuff. After a day filled with the strenuous shifting of bulky furniture I felt I was entitled to a dip in the condominium pool late in the evening when it was already dark. Down I went, with just my swimming trunks on and carrying only my towel and the apartment key. After a delicious 5 minutes in the vacant pool enjoying the fireworks in the night sky that accompany the Sao Jaoa festival at this time of year, I got out to dry off. As I picked up my towel, I knocked the apartment key off the chair where it promptly dissapeared between two slats in the wooden floor that surrounds the pool and fell with a disconcerting clunk several feet below. Uh-oh, I thought. I'm screwed.
The pool, you see, is on a raised platform so I spent a few minutes circling the pool trying to find a way to get down under it. With no door or entrance in sight I sheepishly went to find the night porter. Dripping in just my swimming trunks, I explained in my best Portuguese that I was new to the apartment block, was staying there alone, and had just lost the only key underneath the pool. How could I get it back? The Porter laughed - "Nao e possivel. Tem que procurar amanha". I explained that waiting until tomorrow would not be so good unless I was expected to sleep outside in just my wet swimming gear. I'd like to try and look tonight as I had no mobile, no spare key and I was far too far from the old house to walk and I had no car keys and I didn't even know Sr. Jose's number to call him to pick me up. The Porter laughed some more. Finally, I asked for a torch so I could look for it myself - I just needed directing to how to get under the pool. "Vou te ensinar", said the Porter. I'll teach you.
Round the back of the pool the Porter showed me a creaky, rusty grate which he opened into a dark underworld. To get through the grate required getting down on all fours, and the small space under the pool was only about a metre high, high enough to crawl in at least. He handed me the torch. "Tem baratinha, aqui?" I asked sheepishly ("Are there any little cockroaches here?"). He assured me no. That's good I thought, unless he meant there were only big cockroaches, rats, snakes and scorpions. This is just like the Crystal Maze, I thought to myself chirpily, or perhaps a scene from a b-horror flic, I thought to myself not so chirpily. No matter, the key only fell a few meters away from the grate. But, as I moved forward with bare palms and knees on the concrete the Porter shouted after me that I couldn't go that way, I wasn't allowed to climb over the pool's piping. The only way to get to my key was by crawling around the perimeter of the pool. Oh crumbs, I thought as I painfully turned around and shuffled off into the blackness hoping to dear God the torch had sufficient battery power.
Well, the story ends happily. 10 minutes later, I had my key and was out and the dungeon under the swimming pool was surprisingly clean and lacking in critters. I returned the torch (cue another chuckle from the Porter) and made my way up to the apartment, grazed knees and all. Once in, I called Rach. "Honey, you won't believe what happened! Come back, all is forgiven! I am clearly supposed to be married to you on account of not being able to keep myself out of trouble for more than a day...".
On the plus side, we later thought, this didn't happen when I couldn't speak any Portuguese. I was pleasantly surprised to see that my Portuguese is certainly of a level where I could survive given most strange situations, of which this was certainly one. Thank God too that the key was recoverable then and there, or otherwise I could still be walking the streets of Natal semi-naked to this day...
Friday, June 27, 2008
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Amusing uses of English: Lucas' test. I'm just marking tests from my Upper Intermediate 2 group and I came across a gem from Lucas, a half-Japanese, half-Brazilian teenager. I simply had to put it on here for a wider audience to enjoy. I've written it out all below including his errors. His answer moves from the amusing to the surreal to the sensible. I gave him a mark of 17/20. Some accuracy problems, but he was creative!
Question: Write about this topic - Men and women: differences and similarities. Mention personality, characteristics, natural talents, job situations, basic rights etc.
Women's bathroom, men's bathroom.
Men and women don't have many differences, both of them have legs, arms, nose and eyes. But what I can't understand is why the bathrooms are so different? The men's bathrooms are, usually, small have few toilets and sinks. Whatever the women's bathrooms have more of all of it and, sometimes, have chairs or puffs, to they relax.
Differences like this make our minds work in opposite way. Men have a global view, they can look and remind stuffs. They have a better concentration when working at one thing like reading or listening to musics. Women have a better close view. They can find the butter, when the man was looking it for a long time, and it was in front his nose, and their can pay attention in a lot of things: take care the baby, and the dinner and answer the phone in the same times.
Our culture doesn't use the best talents of men and women. In the job, men earn more than women, in spite of the fact they work together, in the same department. If we could be able to use the differences, probably the world will be better, very better.
Lucas
Question: Write about this topic - Men and women: differences and similarities. Mention personality, characteristics, natural talents, job situations, basic rights etc.
Women's bathroom, men's bathroom.
Men and women don't have many differences, both of them have legs, arms, nose and eyes. But what I can't understand is why the bathrooms are so different? The men's bathrooms are, usually, small have few toilets and sinks. Whatever the women's bathrooms have more of all of it and, sometimes, have chairs or puffs, to they relax.
Differences like this make our minds work in opposite way. Men have a global view, they can look and remind stuffs. They have a better concentration when working at one thing like reading or listening to musics. Women have a better close view. They can find the butter, when the man was looking it for a long time, and it was in front his nose, and their can pay attention in a lot of things: take care the baby, and the dinner and answer the phone in the same times.
Our culture doesn't use the best talents of men and women. In the job, men earn more than women, in spite of the fact they work together, in the same department. If we could be able to use the differences, probably the world will be better, very better.
Lucas
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Proud parents of rapidly growing kids. Nelson had the party for his 2nd birthday at school. It was the earliest party I've been to (9am in the morning!) but it's a cheap way to have a festa. All his pals are already there, the school has a function room and we provide decorations and snacks. The theme for the day was, obviously, the Cars movie so Nelson was resplendent in McQueen shirt and cap and the walls were decked with figures from the film. All of us had a great time and Nelson seemed to be in seventh heaven with the unexpected coming together of his favourite things - family (his Aunt was back from the UK for it too), cars, food and friends. Some short videos of the festivities are here on YouTube.
I have to say, and I know I'm biased, but I was really amazed at how Nelson related to his peers. His best friend Rafa was there (the only other blondie in the school - perhaps the two of them are a support group) which he was happy about and of course the two of them had a great time together. But, it was also how mcuh more on the ball Nelson seemed and quick to pick up new tricks (he could blow bubbles, the other kids couldn't) or follow the lead in a new game. However, if we're worried about Nelson being a SuperKid we should probably take medication because Gloria is breaking records with her development. At the Doctor's yesterday and they weighed and measured her. She's in the top 5% for her age for weight and the top 2% for height at a whopping 56cms long already! She's a beast! Those 3 month baby grows are already looking like shrinkwrap on her...
Weekend of chaos/fun. It's Rachel's granny's 80th and so there is a big shindig down in Joao Pessoa on Saturday evening and Sunday. I have to wear a suit - that's the first time anyone has insisted on this here in Brazil, but if you turn 80 you can call the shots at your party, I guess! I will come back to Natal alone on Sunday night and try to move us to our new apartment while Rach and the kids hang out in Recife. I'll be abley assisted by three salt-of-the-earth Brazilian chaps who I have trouble understanding and who have trouble understanding me.
Mum and Dad. Quick shout out for prayer for Ma and Pa in troublesome Chad. Rebels on the move again although so far they're far from the capital and there is no immediate threat.
I have to say, and I know I'm biased, but I was really amazed at how Nelson related to his peers. His best friend Rafa was there (the only other blondie in the school - perhaps the two of them are a support group) which he was happy about and of course the two of them had a great time together. But, it was also how mcuh more on the ball Nelson seemed and quick to pick up new tricks (he could blow bubbles, the other kids couldn't) or follow the lead in a new game. However, if we're worried about Nelson being a SuperKid we should probably take medication because Gloria is breaking records with her development. At the Doctor's yesterday and they weighed and measured her. She's in the top 5% for her age for weight and the top 2% for height at a whopping 56cms long already! She's a beast! Those 3 month baby grows are already looking like shrinkwrap on her...
Weekend of chaos/fun. It's Rachel's granny's 80th and so there is a big shindig down in Joao Pessoa on Saturday evening and Sunday. I have to wear a suit - that's the first time anyone has insisted on this here in Brazil, but if you turn 80 you can call the shots at your party, I guess! I will come back to Natal alone on Sunday night and try to move us to our new apartment while Rach and the kids hang out in Recife. I'll be abley assisted by three salt-of-the-earth Brazilian chaps who I have trouble understanding and who have trouble understanding me.
Mum and Dad. Quick shout out for prayer for Ma and Pa in troublesome Chad. Rebels on the move again although so far they're far from the capital and there is no immediate threat.
Friday, June 13, 2008
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Ninho and Gloria. Oddly, we have decided to name our children after Brazilian milk brands. For a while Nelsinho couldn't say his name properly, skipping the middle syllable, and so referring to himself as simply Ninho. Ninho, randomly, also means "nest" in Portuguese. Anyway, the powdered milk brand we use for Nelson is called Ninho and the regular milk we use for us is called Gloria. I can assure you this was all purely coincidental although if we were to have another kid in Brazil we've got the name UHT Parmalat semi-desnatado in mind, and for back in the UK we think Tesco 2L green top would do for either a boy or a girl.
Special thanks to Danny and Caz for sending us this pic this week. They took it here in Brazil when they visited in January.
Things I miss about England #27: toasters and electric kettles. For making toast and tea, obviously. I forgot to mention it in my last post about breakfast.
Things I love about Brazil #14: black beans, brown beans and green beans. Beans in all their colours and varieties are the staple and national food of Brazil. Many a Brazilian football player has bemoaned the lack of good beans in Europe. It is said to be the main reason Romario returned to Brazil early in his career. I have taken to beans in a big way (especially the green variety), although a week of just beans does extraordinary things to, let's say, one's "pipes". After Nelson was ill a few weeks ago his appetite returned with vociferous force and he got very grumpy one lunch time when we hadn't got round to fixing him his "almoço". So, we took him to the local Brazilian eatery round the corner and he troughed a man-sized portion of beans, rice and farofa (kind of floury stuff people put on beans), all washed down with some coconut water. How ever are we going to get him his favourite meal when we move to the UK?
Family. Rachel's Dad has been here helping us out with the 2 kids and Rach's Mum arrives tonight. Excitingly, Amy is coming back from the UK for 2 weeks so we'll go pick her up from the airport on Sunday night. Having said all that, Gloria is little trouble and not a cause for much concern. She has slept through from 11pm to 5am already much to Rachel's delight. I, on the other hand, have a son whose sleeping habits are more like mine than his mother's - what are mornings for if not to play? If Nelson wakes up after 4am it is difficult to convince the boy that going back to sleep is a better idea than drawing cars. The fun started at 4.45am today and I'm knackered. Rachel and Gloria were both still in the land of nod at 7am. Why I outta...
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Things I miss about England #34: People know how to park (mostly). I've been wanting to post a picture of some of the abysmal Brazilian parking I've come across but I never really have my camera handy when I'm pulling up at a supermarket. Fortunately, today, I did. See above and take note of the direction of the painted car parking spaces and then laugh at the way the car is parked perpendicular to the spaces in question. I think I've quoted Prince Philip's infamous and unpolitically correct quip elsewhere on this blog: "That box looks like its been wired by an Indian" but I frequently find myself saying, "That car looks like its been parked by a Brazilian!". Altogether now, to the tune of "walk like an Egyptian" lets all "park like a Brazilian!". But then again, who said the English could park a car.
Things I miss about England #45: Breakfast. I just can't seem to find a quick, tasty and filling way to have breakfast here in Natal. When I ask my students in class about what they ate for breakfast most return blank stares and say coffee, water, milk or maybe bread and cheese. Breakfast just isn't done here like it is back home.
So, things I miss about England #s 46, 47, 48, 49, 50 and 52 are: fresh mushrooms (not available in Natal - surely, a crime!), baked beans, fresh milk (for tea and cereal), good quality cereal (the best cereal here is extortionately priced, doesn't even taste too good, especially with non-fresh milk), fresh bread (Brazilian bread is OK, but it still doesn't beat a loaf of Tesco no frills white) and lastly sausages (Brazilian sausages are in the Vauxhall Conference compared to English Premier League sausages). Like Mev used to say when he was here, the first thing I'm doing when I get home is having a real fry-up with real bread and a cup of freshly brewed tea...
Things I love about Brazil #46: Breakfast. OK, OK, somethings about Brazilian breakfasts are OK. In fact, I contradict myself if I say I dislike Brazilian breakfasts as I positively sang their praises back in November 2006. The main problem for me is that they it's usually accompanied by an inordinate amount of faff in order to get things ready and also fresh fruit, although nice, often goes off quickly. However, if one has the time one can make juice from frozen pulps (Things I love about Brazil #85: frozen fruit pulps) then you're onto a scrumptious start to the day, especially if the fruit in question is Açerola (Things I love about Brazil #30: Açerola) which, according to old Brazilian fishwives packs more vitamin C into one small cherry-sized portion than is present in a bag of oranges.
On the subject of food and drink but not breakfast, where would be without cachaça, the alcoholic spirit made from sugar cane, (Things I love about Brazil #67: Cachaça) to make caipirinha (Things I love about Brazil #29: Caipirinha), the national cocktail? A bottle of Pitú brand cachaça only costs R4 - about 1 UK quid. This filled me with glee when I discovered that such a famous drink could be assembled so cheaply (just add chopped limes and sugar for caipirinha) but as my father-in-law points out when spirits with 40% alcohol content are sold for less than milk, something is wrong and someone, somewhere is going to get hurt. Fair enough. As for caipirinha itself, I'm slowly discovering that this drink is somewhat viewed here the same way Guiness may be viewed in Ireland. Yes, we're famous for it but no we don't drink it ourselves - it's for the tourists.
Things I love about Brazil #88: Bolo de rolo. Quality traditional Brazilian treat of rolled pastry filled with guava jam. Good for breakfast, thank goodness.
Things I love about Brazil #98: Baton chocolate. So, it's not Cadbury's, but it will do.
Things I miss about England #45: Breakfast. I just can't seem to find a quick, tasty and filling way to have breakfast here in Natal. When I ask my students in class about what they ate for breakfast most return blank stares and say coffee, water, milk or maybe bread and cheese. Breakfast just isn't done here like it is back home.
So, things I miss about England #s 46, 47, 48, 49, 50 and 52 are: fresh mushrooms (not available in Natal - surely, a crime!), baked beans, fresh milk (for tea and cereal), good quality cereal (the best cereal here is extortionately priced, doesn't even taste too good, especially with non-fresh milk), fresh bread (Brazilian bread is OK, but it still doesn't beat a loaf of Tesco no frills white) and lastly sausages (Brazilian sausages are in the Vauxhall Conference compared to English Premier League sausages). Like Mev used to say when he was here, the first thing I'm doing when I get home is having a real fry-up with real bread and a cup of freshly brewed tea...
Things I love about Brazil #46: Breakfast. OK, OK, somethings about Brazilian breakfasts are OK. In fact, I contradict myself if I say I dislike Brazilian breakfasts as I positively sang their praises back in November 2006. The main problem for me is that they it's usually accompanied by an inordinate amount of faff in order to get things ready and also fresh fruit, although nice, often goes off quickly. However, if one has the time one can make juice from frozen pulps (Things I love about Brazil #85: frozen fruit pulps) then you're onto a scrumptious start to the day, especially if the fruit in question is Açerola (Things I love about Brazil #30: Açerola) which, according to old Brazilian fishwives packs more vitamin C into one small cherry-sized portion than is present in a bag of oranges.
On the subject of food and drink but not breakfast, where would be without cachaça, the alcoholic spirit made from sugar cane, (Things I love about Brazil #67: Cachaça) to make caipirinha (Things I love about Brazil #29: Caipirinha), the national cocktail? A bottle of Pitú brand cachaça only costs R4 - about 1 UK quid. This filled me with glee when I discovered that such a famous drink could be assembled so cheaply (just add chopped limes and sugar for caipirinha) but as my father-in-law points out when spirits with 40% alcohol content are sold for less than milk, something is wrong and someone, somewhere is going to get hurt. Fair enough. As for caipirinha itself, I'm slowly discovering that this drink is somewhat viewed here the same way Guiness may be viewed in Ireland. Yes, we're famous for it but no we don't drink it ourselves - it's for the tourists.
Things I love about Brazil #88: Bolo de rolo. Quality traditional Brazilian treat of rolled pastry filled with guava jam. Good for breakfast, thank goodness.
Things I love about Brazil #98: Baton chocolate. So, it's not Cadbury's, but it will do.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Life... is pretty much going on as normal. Gloria is very uncomplaining and with Rach's Mum around everything is more managable. The weather has been mostly rainy - it is the season for it - and a lot of sickness has been going round. One of the Cultura teachers picked up dengue. Nelson got a nasty tummy infection last week which I caught, but thank God neither Rachel or Gloria have it. Nelson and I are over the worst now.
We've decided to move! This is without a doubt a crazy thing to do, but being a Maclure/Barlow family moving at the drop of a hat doesn't seem to be unsusual. We thought about moving prior to the baby but nothing came up at a reasonable price. Typically, with Gloria approaching her 1 month birthday, we find a great flat on the other side of town walking distance from Nelson`s school in a condo with a swimming pool, games room and acres of space downstairs for the little ones to tire themselves out in. I was the last to be convinced but on seeing the modern and spacious apartment on the 2nd floor I thought we should go for it for our final year in Brazil. The house where we are living now has been fine, but it is a bit decrepit, a bit exposed to thieves (see here and here), prone to ants, bugs, scoprions and mozzies. The apartment is better on all those fronts. Besides, the swimming pool is a great lure and might actually result in me getting some exercise... We will move in the holiday month of July.
More internet larks. It's likely I might be going to Fortaleza with some of the teachers in July for a conference. Several of us are giving papers and, if accepted, I'm to do a little workshop on English on the internet. I try to use the internet a lot in my English classes - setting homework online, using a teacher blog and I even gave my first e-lesson yesterday entirely on the theme of Garfield the cat. I have to say my normally surly teenagers loved that so I shall be trying it again soon. Through all this I discovered the handy website toondoo.com which allows you to create comic strips. It got me inspired and I am now penning the occasional 1 panel comic about the daftness of the English language. It's called MADDOGS&ENGLISH. Have a look (especially if the Far Side was your thing in the 90s). It's already picking up a fair few hits from out there in cyber space.
Nelson's toy car (click here to see pic). The problem with the design of Nelson's dinky buggy is that it is unlikely people visit Austria to go out into the "wild" and, indeed, I don't think there is a great kangaroo population there either. It's another amusing use of English where Brazilians cut and paste English-sounding phrases and words onto products to make them seem more authentic.
We've decided to move! This is without a doubt a crazy thing to do, but being a Maclure/Barlow family moving at the drop of a hat doesn't seem to be unsusual. We thought about moving prior to the baby but nothing came up at a reasonable price. Typically, with Gloria approaching her 1 month birthday, we find a great flat on the other side of town walking distance from Nelson`s school in a condo with a swimming pool, games room and acres of space downstairs for the little ones to tire themselves out in. I was the last to be convinced but on seeing the modern and spacious apartment on the 2nd floor I thought we should go for it for our final year in Brazil. The house where we are living now has been fine, but it is a bit decrepit, a bit exposed to thieves (see here and here), prone to ants, bugs, scoprions and mozzies. The apartment is better on all those fronts. Besides, the swimming pool is a great lure and might actually result in me getting some exercise... We will move in the holiday month of July.
More internet larks. It's likely I might be going to Fortaleza with some of the teachers in July for a conference. Several of us are giving papers and, if accepted, I'm to do a little workshop on English on the internet. I try to use the internet a lot in my English classes - setting homework online, using a teacher blog and I even gave my first e-lesson yesterday entirely on the theme of Garfield the cat. I have to say my normally surly teenagers loved that so I shall be trying it again soon. Through all this I discovered the handy website toondoo.com which allows you to create comic strips. It got me inspired and I am now penning the occasional 1 panel comic about the daftness of the English language. It's called MADDOGS&ENGLISH. Have a look (especially if the Far Side was your thing in the 90s). It's already picking up a fair few hits from out there in cyber space.
Nelson's toy car (click here to see pic). The problem with the design of Nelson's dinky buggy is that it is unlikely people visit Austria to go out into the "wild" and, indeed, I don't think there is a great kangaroo population there either. It's another amusing use of English where Brazilians cut and paste English-sounding phrases and words onto products to make them seem more authentic.
Sunday, June 01, 2008
10 reasons why having a baby in a Brazilian hospital is different to having a baby in an English one.
10. The food. The food in the hospital was fine. It differed from the UK in that it was often traditional Brazilian food with a host of exotic fruit juices. As a live in spouse I got meals too which I enjoyed immensely!
10. The food. The food in the hospital was fine. It differed from the UK in that it was often traditional Brazilian food with a host of exotic fruit juices. As a live in spouse I got meals too which I enjoyed immensely!
Saturday, May 31, 2008
10 reasons why having a baby in a Brazilian hospital is different to having a baby in an English one.
9. The visitors. You may be surprised when I tell you there weren't any really. Family came of course, including Rach's Uncle, wife and kids from Joao Pessoa. But, everyone else stayed away from the hospital (again, not like York). When two from our church visited they were quite nervous and one of them refused to hold Gloria for fear of getting her dirty and making her ill. It turns out that in Brazil a lot of superstitions (probably rooted in a genuine desire to protect young life in a volatile environment) surround newborn babies especially to do with cleanliness and health. Non-family folks may be quite cautious and coy at first. Later some people visited us at our house and we took Gloria into the language school for everyone to see.
9. The visitors. You may be surprised when I tell you there weren't any really. Family came of course, including Rach's Uncle, wife and kids from Joao Pessoa. But, everyone else stayed away from the hospital (again, not like York). When two from our church visited they were quite nervous and one of them refused to hold Gloria for fear of getting her dirty and making her ill. It turns out that in Brazil a lot of superstitions (probably rooted in a genuine desire to protect young life in a volatile environment) surround newborn babies especially to do with cleanliness and health. Non-family folks may be quite cautious and coy at first. Later some people visited us at our house and we took Gloria into the language school for everyone to see.
Friday, May 30, 2008
10 reasons why having a baby in a Brazilian hospital is different to having a baby in an English one.
8. The spelling. Just a funny moment really stemming from my inability to communicate in Portuguese and the fact that Brazilians are not generally so pre-occupied with lexical accuracy in the same way we are in the UK. When Rach was half out of it prior to her epidural, one of the nurses kept trying to get Rachel's details down accurately for the paperwork. I shouted out the spelling to her and after several attempts at transcribing the name Rachel Barlow Maclure, the nurse confirmed she had it down straight. Two minutes later she proudly showed me the card with the name legibly written on it. It read: "Raquel Bally Macrura". Ahhh, yes, well. I politely explained it was nearly right but not quite right and wrote it down myself.
8. The spelling. Just a funny moment really stemming from my inability to communicate in Portuguese and the fact that Brazilians are not generally so pre-occupied with lexical accuracy in the same way we are in the UK. When Rach was half out of it prior to her epidural, one of the nurses kept trying to get Rachel's details down accurately for the paperwork. I shouted out the spelling to her and after several attempts at transcribing the name Rachel Barlow Maclure, the nurse confirmed she had it down straight. Two minutes later she proudly showed me the card with the name legibly written on it. It read: "Raquel Bally Macrura". Ahhh, yes, well. I politely explained it was nearly right but not quite right and wrote it down myself.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
10 reasons why having a baby in a Brazilian hospital is different to having a baby in an English one.
7. The time-keeping. Doctors and cleaners appeared at all times of day and night and anyone was allowed to visit any time they wanted. Not like York at all where I wasn't even allowed to be with Rach overnight and could only be at her side at designated times.
7. The time-keeping. Doctors and cleaners appeared at all times of day and night and anyone was allowed to visit any time they wanted. Not like York at all where I wasn't even allowed to be with Rach overnight and could only be at her side at designated times.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
10 reasons why having a baby in a Brazilian hospital is different to having a baby in an English one.
6. The noise. Not really the fault of anyone, I suppose, but the hospital was undergoing rennovation work while were there. I had to frequently shut the curtains to keep out any wayward stares from workmen traipsing around the roof outside. The drilling and the thumping impressed nobody from our party except Nelson.
6. The noise. Not really the fault of anyone, I suppose, but the hospital was undergoing rennovation work while were there. I had to frequently shut the curtains to keep out any wayward stares from workmen traipsing around the roof outside. The drilling and the thumping impressed nobody from our party except Nelson.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Monday, May 26, 2008
10 reasons why having a baby in a Brazilian hospital is different to having a baby in an English one.
4. The bedside manner. Whereas in the UK Doctor's are (I guess) trained to be courteous, serious and straightforward with their patients, Brazilian medics will generally try to treat you like their mate who they've just invited round for a barbecue. In other words it's all about rapport. 5 minutes before Rachel's c-section there was banter and laughter all through the theatre and the anesthetist kept trying his ropey English on me. The effect calmed Rach (thank goodness!) as it suggested these people were not worried about the procedure they were about to embark on. For me, it all seemed a bit flippant and unprofessional but then I am British after all.
4. The bedside manner. Whereas in the UK Doctor's are (I guess) trained to be courteous, serious and straightforward with their patients, Brazilian medics will generally try to treat you like their mate who they've just invited round for a barbecue. In other words it's all about rapport. 5 minutes before Rachel's c-section there was banter and laughter all through the theatre and the anesthetist kept trying his ropey English on me. The effect calmed Rach (thank goodness!) as it suggested these people were not worried about the procedure they were about to embark on. For me, it all seemed a bit flippant and unprofessional but then I am British after all.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
10 reasons why having a baby in a Brazilian hospital is different to having a baby in an English one.
3. The mobile phones. In York, mobiles were banned in the maternity unit and I had to surreptitiously slip off to the loos to text and call a few people after Nelson was born. Not in Brazil. All doctors had their phones on and I had two in my pocket the whole time. Calls were going off every other minute and nobody batted an eyelid.
3. The mobile phones. In York, mobiles were banned in the maternity unit and I had to surreptitiously slip off to the loos to text and call a few people after Nelson was born. Not in Brazil. All doctors had their phones on and I had two in my pocket the whole time. Calls were going off every other minute and nobody batted an eyelid.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Friday, May 23, 2008
10 reasons why having a baby in a Brazilian hospital is different to having a baby in an English one.
1. The speed. When we arrived they checked Rachel out and then made her lie down on a bed (unlike in the UK where they kept her home and made her walk up and down the stairs!). Then after only half an hour they wheeled Rachel into surgery. Rach was going to try for natural birth if possible but I got a bit worried by the number of people who kept asking me if she was having a c-section. Finally, Rach's Doctor turned up so I felt happier somebody knew what they were doing. In the end, they gave Rach an epidural, and after waiting a while decided the baby wasn't coming down fast enough so opted for c-section. From arriving at the hospital at 7.30am, we had a baby by 11.30am. In the end, the c-section was for the best as Gloria was quite big and there was a knot in her umbilical cord which could have caused problems in a natural birth.
1. The speed. When we arrived they checked Rachel out and then made her lie down on a bed (unlike in the UK where they kept her home and made her walk up and down the stairs!). Then after only half an hour they wheeled Rachel into surgery. Rach was going to try for natural birth if possible but I got a bit worried by the number of people who kept asking me if she was having a c-section. Finally, Rach's Doctor turned up so I felt happier somebody knew what they were doing. In the end, they gave Rach an epidural, and after waiting a while decided the baby wasn't coming down fast enough so opted for c-section. From arriving at the hospital at 7.30am, we had a baby by 11.30am. In the end, the c-section was for the best as Gloria was quite big and there was a knot in her umbilical cord which could have caused problems in a natural birth.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Amusing uses of English: spot the mistake. The picture is of a toy car Nelson got for Christmas. I only spotted the "mistake" a few months later, can you see it? Answers next week.
Today = Corpus Christi. Getting back into the swing of work hasn't been too easy but it's certainly made easier by the arrival of another strategically placed national holiday. On the agenda, trying to get us all out of the house to have lunch in a restaurant.
Chad. Trouble may be brewing in the African country my parents are in, so please keep them and it in your prayers. Updates on here when I get it.
10 reasons why having a baby in a Brazilian hospital is different to having a baby in an English one. Every day for the next ten days (if I can make blogger's delayed timed posting thingy work!) I'll put up a short bit about how this whole experience of having Gloria here in Natal differed to when Nelson was born in York. First one tomorrow.
Today = Corpus Christi. Getting back into the swing of work hasn't been too easy but it's certainly made easier by the arrival of another strategically placed national holiday. On the agenda, trying to get us all out of the house to have lunch in a restaurant.
Chad. Trouble may be brewing in the African country my parents are in, so please keep them and it in your prayers. Updates on here when I get it.
10 reasons why having a baby in a Brazilian hospital is different to having a baby in an English one. Every day for the next ten days (if I can make blogger's delayed timed posting thingy work!) I'll put up a short bit about how this whole experience of having Gloria here in Natal differed to when Nelson was born in York. First one tomorrow.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Life goes on. Back at work today and in fact I'm writing this when I should be planning a lesson, but it's hard to get back into the rhythm after a great paternity leave. Rach is doing great, Nelson is swell and Gloria is lovely. Rachel's parents have gone well beyond the call of duty in helping us get this little life on the road and Rachel's brother came and paid a visit this weekend which was a lot of fun. More pictures have been added here. Gloria is sleeping very well and is even more chilled out than Nelson so we are enjoying a relative banquet of sleep right now!
Joy's done it again! If you enjoyed our friend Joy Simpson's paintings (still rotating in the slideshow to the right, I believe) you'll probably enjoy this. She's just put up the photos of her time in Brazil and they are stunning. They provide the best little window into (our) life in Natal that I've seen so far. Well worth a look here.
FA Cup Final. I really enjoyed watching the FA Cup final on Saturday and seeing one of my all time favourite football players get the match winner in probably one of his last seasons playing professionally. I even wrote an article about the main man Kanu over at reallifenews.com if anyone wants to see it.
Joy's done it again! If you enjoyed our friend Joy Simpson's paintings (still rotating in the slideshow to the right, I believe) you'll probably enjoy this. She's just put up the photos of her time in Brazil and they are stunning. They provide the best little window into (our) life in Natal that I've seen so far. Well worth a look here.
FA Cup Final. I really enjoyed watching the FA Cup final on Saturday and seeing one of my all time favourite football players get the match winner in probably one of his last seasons playing professionally. I even wrote an article about the main man Kanu over at reallifenews.com if anyone wants to see it.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Sarah Sheeva the daughter of Baby Consuelo visits Gloria. Right, well this was out of left field but a relatively famous person in Brazilian pop culture stopped by for an evening with us recently. I had to do a bit of research on the internet to find out exactly who the socialite in my front room was, but this is the basic story.
Baby Consuelo/Baby do Brasil was a famous Brazilian singer, something of an institution I guess, with hits stretching back to the 60s. Her kids also formed music groups and bands and had moderately successful careers in Brazil. Anyway, sometime in the late 90s, Baby and several of her children and relatives converted in dramatic style to Protestant Christianity out of a lifestyle of dark religious practices and the excesses of a rock and roll lifestyle. The conversion was dramatic and long-lasting - Baby has stepped out of the music industry and is now a pastor in a church. Her daughter, Sarah Sheeva, who was a member of the pop trio SNZ along with her sisters also quit (much to the dissapointment of sections of her fans) and now takes up her time recording Christian worship music and touring doing evangelistic events.
Sarah was in Natal as part of one of these tours for a week of meetings that our church group had some hand in arranging. Of course, we were unable to attend because of the arrival of Gloria, so, instead, she visited us for a "quick visit" with a special view to meeting a new baby. Actually, the quick visit was definitely of the Brazilian variety in that it wasn't quick at all and it soon became a two hour sit down and chat about the state of the church in Brazil, the nature of conversion, the details of Sarah's family's past and present and the wonder and blessing of children. Sarah (who in terms of appearance could pass for a younger Cher) dominated the evening as I guess only a gifted evangelist with a history of performing on stages can - she spoke with real and heartfelt enthusiasm about what Jesus had done in her life. I couldn't catch everything she said in her southern Brazilian accent, but I was left with the enduring impression that this person's life had been totally turned around. The inexplicable, total, genuine and positive transformation of people by God is one of the most compelling evidences, in my opinion, of the reality of Christian truth. As Rachel later said - before she or her mother became Christians, you would be hard pressed to imagine a family in the Brazilian public eye further away from ever becoming believers. Their story is partly due to the witness of a family friend who committed to praying regularly for the family over a period of ten years.
So, above, a picture of Gloria mixing it with her famous friends. Sarah is the one holding Gloria. And here is a (kind of cheesey) video of Sarah in her hey-day as part of the trio SNZ, although she looks so much like her sisters I'm not sure who she is in the video!
ps. I tried to find some info on Baby, Sarah and SNZ on wikipedia but the only substantial articles were in Portuguese. SNZ is made up of the initials of the three sisters in the group - Sarah, Nana and Zabelle. As it happens, I discovered that SNZ is the name of an American music group and that the initials stand for something altogether more ridicilous.
Baby Consuelo/Baby do Brasil was a famous Brazilian singer, something of an institution I guess, with hits stretching back to the 60s. Her kids also formed music groups and bands and had moderately successful careers in Brazil. Anyway, sometime in the late 90s, Baby and several of her children and relatives converted in dramatic style to Protestant Christianity out of a lifestyle of dark religious practices and the excesses of a rock and roll lifestyle. The conversion was dramatic and long-lasting - Baby has stepped out of the music industry and is now a pastor in a church. Her daughter, Sarah Sheeva, who was a member of the pop trio SNZ along with her sisters also quit (much to the dissapointment of sections of her fans) and now takes up her time recording Christian worship music and touring doing evangelistic events.
Sarah was in Natal as part of one of these tours for a week of meetings that our church group had some hand in arranging. Of course, we were unable to attend because of the arrival of Gloria, so, instead, she visited us for a "quick visit" with a special view to meeting a new baby. Actually, the quick visit was definitely of the Brazilian variety in that it wasn't quick at all and it soon became a two hour sit down and chat about the state of the church in Brazil, the nature of conversion, the details of Sarah's family's past and present and the wonder and blessing of children. Sarah (who in terms of appearance could pass for a younger Cher) dominated the evening as I guess only a gifted evangelist with a history of performing on stages can - she spoke with real and heartfelt enthusiasm about what Jesus had done in her life. I couldn't catch everything she said in her southern Brazilian accent, but I was left with the enduring impression that this person's life had been totally turned around. The inexplicable, total, genuine and positive transformation of people by God is one of the most compelling evidences, in my opinion, of the reality of Christian truth. As Rachel later said - before she or her mother became Christians, you would be hard pressed to imagine a family in the Brazilian public eye further away from ever becoming believers. Their story is partly due to the witness of a family friend who committed to praying regularly for the family over a period of ten years.
So, above, a picture of Gloria mixing it with her famous friends. Sarah is the one holding Gloria. And here is a (kind of cheesey) video of Sarah in her hey-day as part of the trio SNZ, although she looks so much like her sisters I'm not sure who she is in the video!
ps. I tried to find some info on Baby, Sarah and SNZ on wikipedia but the only substantial articles were in Portuguese. SNZ is made up of the initials of the three sisters in the group - Sarah, Nana and Zabelle. As it happens, I discovered that SNZ is the name of an American music group and that the initials stand for something altogether more ridicilous.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Josef Fritzl, the German frozen babies, Isabella and Gloria Maclure. In the days and weeks leading up to the birth of our daughter the international media has been full of some of the most darkly disturbing crimes of abuse within the family. We have probably heard enough now about Josef Fritzl's basement prison and you may have heard about the case of three frozen babies discovered in Germany by their grown brothers and sisters who decided to clear their parents' freezer when they went to look for something to eat.
Brazil has been turned upside down by a crime which my father-in-law says has created a frenzy of public interest like he has never seen before. A father and step-mother were charged last week with the murder of 5 year old Isabella, strangled and then thrown from an apartment window several stories high. What connects all these stories is the fact that the purportrators of the crimes were moderately wealthy, middle class people who had none of the "excuses" that might accompany similar crimes in the favelas or war zones of the world. For me, it shows that the prize of development (which, for many socieities is to aim for middle class wealth-creation and to model themselves on liberal democracies of Europe) leaves gaping holes in "fixing" the human condition. It is a reminder that you cannot tame the potential evil of the human heart even for all the best political, educational and social programmes immaginable.
Having your own daughter born into this kind of news climate has left me asking (at least) three things: how could anyone do any of these things to their own children? How are we even supposed to live in a world where this kind of thing happens? How can I even possibly begin to be a parent to another real, feeling human life? The last question acknowledges that although I am unlikely to commit any crimes on the level of the people above, my best efforts are still thoroughly flawed and my children will have to grow up with the joys and pains, freedoms and traumas of having Dave Maclure as their father. In other words, fingers are pointing at me as much as to anyone else. This is at the basis of my faith as a Christian - all of us fall far short of the perfect standards required of a perfect God. This brings a possible answer to the second question above: how are we even supposed to live in this world? Well, as I see it, we begin to live in this world by looking to our Creator for guidance and salvation. In many ways, I have really struggled to maintain the disciplines of a Christian faith in Brazil mainly because kids knock you off your rhythm so frequently. However, I have never felt closer or more sure of my convictions as a Christian than in witnessing the many miracles that have surrounded the birth of my two children.
Things I miss about England #74: BBC news. As my Dad often says the British press are the best and worst press in the world. But, I'm sure they (save for the tabloids) would have dealt with the Isabella case in a more humane, impartial and level-headed way. The highly sensationalist accounts, the rather shallow journalism, the prime time interviews with the chief suspects and the violent scrum of cameras and microphones that accompanied the hand-cuffed, straight-jacketed parents had more in common with a Hollywood thriller than any John Humphreys Radio 4 piece. The problem was, I believe all this contributed to a mob mentality which resulted in some unfortunate and bizarre behaviour from the public. The apartment block where the killing occurred became a tourist attraction for hundreds of people to go and have their pic taken. Any car that came in or out of the block was set upon with billboards and stones. It was like something out of the Simpsons movie. Most unfortunately, "copy-cat" attempted murders of children allegedly occurred in different areas of Brazil.
Things I love about Brazil #99: soap operas. OK, so I don't really like Brazilian soap operas (except to help with my Portuguese) although Brazilians are famous for them, especially in China and Portugal apparently. Soap Operas here differ from the English variety by being always about the wealthiest sectors of society (Coronation Street / East Enders this is not) and they have a fixed duration usually of several weeks or months (Coronation Street / East Enders this is not). Anyway, the media circus surrounding the Isabella case utilised and pandered to Brazilians best soap opera-loving sentiments...
Gloria's status update: Gloria is sleeping. I've updated my post from a few days ago to include my daughter's weight and size details - important elements of information which some people like to know and I didn't have on me at the time.
Coming soon. The true story of how a famous Brazilian pop singer made a special trip to visit us in our home in order to see Gloria.
Laptop trouble. My laptop died a death a few months back and now the screen on Rachel's has gone on the blink. Until we get it repaired I am using my mother-in-laws to write these posts. What I'm saying is, my posts may be intermitent and sporadic in the next few weeks so bare with us! Stay tuned.
Brazil has been turned upside down by a crime which my father-in-law says has created a frenzy of public interest like he has never seen before. A father and step-mother were charged last week with the murder of 5 year old Isabella, strangled and then thrown from an apartment window several stories high. What connects all these stories is the fact that the purportrators of the crimes were moderately wealthy, middle class people who had none of the "excuses" that might accompany similar crimes in the favelas or war zones of the world. For me, it shows that the prize of development (which, for many socieities is to aim for middle class wealth-creation and to model themselves on liberal democracies of Europe) leaves gaping holes in "fixing" the human condition. It is a reminder that you cannot tame the potential evil of the human heart even for all the best political, educational and social programmes immaginable.
Having your own daughter born into this kind of news climate has left me asking (at least) three things: how could anyone do any of these things to their own children? How are we even supposed to live in a world where this kind of thing happens? How can I even possibly begin to be a parent to another real, feeling human life? The last question acknowledges that although I am unlikely to commit any crimes on the level of the people above, my best efforts are still thoroughly flawed and my children will have to grow up with the joys and pains, freedoms and traumas of having Dave Maclure as their father. In other words, fingers are pointing at me as much as to anyone else. This is at the basis of my faith as a Christian - all of us fall far short of the perfect standards required of a perfect God. This brings a possible answer to the second question above: how are we even supposed to live in this world? Well, as I see it, we begin to live in this world by looking to our Creator for guidance and salvation. In many ways, I have really struggled to maintain the disciplines of a Christian faith in Brazil mainly because kids knock you off your rhythm so frequently. However, I have never felt closer or more sure of my convictions as a Christian than in witnessing the many miracles that have surrounded the birth of my two children.
Things I miss about England #74: BBC news. As my Dad often says the British press are the best and worst press in the world. But, I'm sure they (save for the tabloids) would have dealt with the Isabella case in a more humane, impartial and level-headed way. The highly sensationalist accounts, the rather shallow journalism, the prime time interviews with the chief suspects and the violent scrum of cameras and microphones that accompanied the hand-cuffed, straight-jacketed parents had more in common with a Hollywood thriller than any John Humphreys Radio 4 piece. The problem was, I believe all this contributed to a mob mentality which resulted in some unfortunate and bizarre behaviour from the public. The apartment block where the killing occurred became a tourist attraction for hundreds of people to go and have their pic taken. Any car that came in or out of the block was set upon with billboards and stones. It was like something out of the Simpsons movie. Most unfortunately, "copy-cat" attempted murders of children allegedly occurred in different areas of Brazil.
Things I love about Brazil #99: soap operas. OK, so I don't really like Brazilian soap operas (except to help with my Portuguese) although Brazilians are famous for them, especially in China and Portugal apparently. Soap Operas here differ from the English variety by being always about the wealthiest sectors of society (Coronation Street / East Enders this is not) and they have a fixed duration usually of several weeks or months (Coronation Street / East Enders this is not). Anyway, the media circus surrounding the Isabella case utilised and pandered to Brazilians best soap opera-loving sentiments...
Gloria's status update: Gloria is sleeping. I've updated my post from a few days ago to include my daughter's weight and size details - important elements of information which some people like to know and I didn't have on me at the time.
Coming soon. The true story of how a famous Brazilian pop singer made a special trip to visit us in our home in order to see Gloria.
Laptop trouble. My laptop died a death a few months back and now the screen on Rachel's has gone on the blink. Until we get it repaired I am using my mother-in-laws to write these posts. What I'm saying is, my posts may be intermitent and sporadic in the next few weeks so bare with us! Stay tuned.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
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