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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More news tomorrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Complete the sentences:

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

Correct answer: captain/coach

Student answer: charger

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

Correct answer: diet.

Student answer: delicious

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

My mother's new husband is my s_________.

Correct answer: stepfather.

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

The brother of my mother is my u_____.

Correct Answer: uncle.

Student answer: uant. (Eh?)

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

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

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

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

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

Enjoy the heat
Sunbathe and sing
Brazil vacation!

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

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

sunset landscape
bright and quiet sea
memories that I lived

pretty sunny day
fresh water through my fingers
delighting the time

feel the breeze
kissing your body
and just dream away

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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