Picture Perfect - Looking Through

Photo taken with a Canon SD10 Digital Elph

if you could look

through my skin

into my mind
into my soul

what would you see

would you see

the flaws

that catch

the light

would you see

the stains

that make

odd patterns

would you see

the damage

the years

have wrought

would you see

the whole

and choose

me anyway

because i'm different

© tint

The Picture Perfect theme for this week is "Looking through". The photo is of my crystal. When I went crystal shopping, I heard words like 'flawless', 'perfect', 'unmarred', 'not dirty'. I found crystals that matched those words, but didn't like them. I ended up buying a crystal that was like me.... a crystal that was flawed, but carried a flame in its heart.

It's official! The world has gone mad

When I switch on my pc, I read the news, then I check my mail, after which I check my blog worlds. Yes, I have a few ;)

The first thing that caught my eye this morning was a photo of a young boy and girl in a ballroom setup. The story was about the revival of the cadets in Russia. "A Russian cadet leads a girl for a waltz during a grand cadet ball in an old estate in Moscow, Russia, November 4, 2007. Cadet schools are reestablishing the old Russian tradition. Grand balls usualy were devoted to the biggest historic events, as the one that marks the day of liberation from Polish occupation in 1612. (Sergei Chirikov/EPA)" My first thought was that that was wonderful. It is part of their history and their culture. I have always maintained that just because there is something wrong with a society, it doesn't mean you abolish all parts of it. That is akin to tossing your entire pantry because a slice of bread goes moldy.

One person commented that "I think that teaching children how to act "proper" is all well and good, but in Russia, these children are FORCED into military schools at ages of 5 and 6. They are also brain washed into thinking that "mother russia" is all that matters. They have kind of a 1940's german outlook on life. Russia has some issues that I find to be just flat out wrong." Personally, I feel that if anyone has a 1940's German (I say that hesitatingly because it also shows labelling and prejudice) attitude, it is this person. So Russia has issues, but then, so does South Africa, USA, Australia, Timbaktu. The kid was 'forced' into cadets at the age of 5? Heck, kids get 'forced' into education at that age. What kid of that age can book himself into (or out of) an institution or a way of life? Brainwashed? Hm... yes... he is probably being brainwashed into showing some etiquette, something sadly lacking in a large part of today's world.

The next article had me dumbfounded. A girl is given detention for hugging her friends. What next? I appreciate that the school is trying to rule out a certain kind of behaviour, but what are they teaching the children... that affection is bad? Actually, yes, that is what they're teaching. Their school handbook says: “Displays of affection should not occur on the school campus at any time. It is in poor taste, reflects poor judgment, and brings discredit to the school and to the persons involved.” Tell me if this isn't somewhat warped thinking.

I think the news sites were on a roll, as I went straight into yet another article. This one is of a school that has banned games like tag. Why? Because it's dangerous. I do know that falling out of bed and hitting your head can be dangerous, so that makes waking up in the morning pretty hazardous. One mother commented in the article: "I've witnessed enough near collisions." I wonder if her child flies to school to avoid near collisions on the way. I'm sorry. I know that last comment was probably very extremist too, but...

To protect my child, I'd have had to put her in a bubble from birth. She's been on a collision course with life since the day she took her first breath. Heck, she's even proud of her collection of scars she's gathered on the way. Oh... and she hugs. She hugs a lot. She'd hug more if she could. Cadets... she'd give anything to take part. She loves uniforms, rituals, formality and organised cameradie. And yes, she will, no doubt comment on this blog, saying all the right things, but that is because I've brainwashed her ;-)

A gem of a plant

Its dull, grey and wet here today. Coolish too. We just saw a news report and photos of snow a few feet deep in Columbia. What's that about? They're right on the equator!


Remember a while ago I blogged about planting my gem squash seeds? I was worried that they wouldn't come up, as the seeds expired in July this year. A few came up. Then the dogs decided they'd love a taste of this strange new herb. They regularly eat my herbs :( They uprooted a few of the young seedlings and munched at others. I 'transplanted' a couple back into the pot and hoped. The third time they uprooted them, I found some mesh and tied it over the pot. They're doing well now, as you can see in the photo. My lavender died. I have a feeling the squash will climb the lavender stem in this pot. Jorge stuck two of the squash seedlings in there, as the lavender was already long gone. I'm going against all the rules of squash growing as it is by planting them in a pot and hoping for a harvest, but even if I just get a few squash, I'll be thrilled. I'll send seeds to all my needy squash-deprived friends out of this harvest... promise! Never mind customs. I'm becoming a customs pro lol


For those who don't know what gem squash is, its a squash that, to my knowledge, is exclusively South African, though, at the rate the expats are going, it's fast becoming international. Here is a pic I found of some squash. This lot was grown in Australia. The average size of a gem is about that of a large apple. The outer skin is hard, though often cooks soft and I love to eat it with my squash. Back home, we serve our squash with salt and a dollop of butter or, as my gran raised me to, with sugar and butter!! Then there's the ever-popular gem squash served with creamed sweetcorn and butter, often topped with cheese. I'm drooling as I'm typing this. If you want more info and a delicious-looking recipe, here is another expat blogging on gem squash: cooksister (I believe her name comes from koeksister, which has me drooling for yet another South African institution *sigh*)


Let me get a move on now and off to the kitchen. I'm going to start a batch of aniseed rusks ;) Want some? We've not had any since moving to Brazil. I finally found a recipe that doesn't involve buttermilk, which we don't have here.


From Wiki, on rusks:"In South Africa, 'rusk' normally means the biscuit, which is considered a traditional food (called beskuit in Afrikaans) and is eaten after having been dipped in coffee or (less often) tea. Historically, rusks evolved (along with biltong) during the country's early pioneering days as a way to preserve bread in the dry climate. It was traditionally baked at home, but there are now several mass-market versions available, the most famous probably being Ouma Rusks. Many bakeries, dellis and home industries also sell them, often using more exotic ingredients than their mass-market counterparts. In addition to the traditional "plain" and buttermilk flavours, flavours available, such as wholewheat, condensed milk, muesli, and lemon poppyseed are available."

Oh, I just found an interesting article on Ouma Rusks at Wikipedia. While you go off to read that, let me share the recipe I'm going to use today. For those who don't know rusks, do try it for a taste of South Africa. They're delicious dunked in coffee, the bigger the mug, the better. Some folk even dunk them in tea ;)

Aniseed rusks
Ingredients:
1 kg (2lb) cake flour + 2 cups
7 g (half a teaspoon) salt
250 g (8oz - about a cup) butter
30 ml (2 tablespoons) whole anise seeds
20 g (0.6oz - a tablespoon... just measured the package) instant yeast
300 g (9oz) sugar
1 egg
300 ml (0.6 pints) water


Method:
1. Sift flour and salt together. Rub butter into flour until it resembles breadcrumbs. Mix in the anise seeds, yeast and sugar.
2. Make a hollow in the flour. Break the egg into the center. Add the water slowly, stirring and checking consistancy. You may need a little more flour. Knead until elastic.
3. Cover with cling film and leave to rise in a warm place until double in size. Don't knock back.
4. Shape into balls and place in a deep bread tin sprayed with nonstick baking spray. Leave to rise until even with the edge of the tin.
5. Place rusks in the oven, preheated to 200 °C (390°F), immediately reduce temperature to 180 °C (350°F), and bake for 45 minutes.
6. Remove from tin. Leave rusks to cool completely before breaking them apart (do not cut with a knife).
7. Dry out in the oven at 100 °C (200°F).

Picture Perfect - Fall

Picture Perfect is now Foto Friday and this week's theme is Fall. I live in a part of the world where fall as a season is a myth. Summer simply fades into winter... or sometimes not at all. Finding a photo was an interesting exercise, so I settled on this one. Click on the photo for a larger version.
"Now, ma'm, tuck your feet in there. That's right... your knees must go right under the wings. Hold on tight. No, you won't fall. I'm going to free the ostrich now. You ready?"
For the record, the underside of an ostrich's wings is very bony and uncomfortable. The lady in the photo is my step-aunt on holiday from Scotland. I did not take the photo. I did fall off an ostrich that day though ;)
I'm rather impressed with this photo. I didn't take the photo (yes, I cheated), but I did fix it. This is from one of my slides. You can see the original here.

Where I am

I often speak of 'going to the village' or 'going into town'. It has occurred to me that there are a lot of misconceptions in those two phrases, especially to those who are fairly new to my friends list. Where I live is by no means a 'village' and 'town' is something of a misnomer.

I live in a neighbourhood called Vila Zelina. It holds the Lithuanian community of São Paulo. Vila Zelina is situated on the outskirts of the city. I call it the village more because of its atmosphere. The village is centered around the square (it's round) and the church. Though there are many churches and denominations here, this Catholic church is known as 'a igreja' or 'the church'. The houses are built on top of each other much like all São Paulo suburbs, but there are fewer apartment blocks. In the slide show, you'll see a couple of photos of how we look down on the neighbouring suburbs. We're very high up here, which is a good thing in terms of all the rain Brazil is capable of.

São Paulo, the city itself, is another story. Vila Zelina is in São Paulo. São Paulo is the financial center of Brazil. It consists of the central city and outlying municipalities, altogether known as the greater São Paulo. The greater São Paulo has a population of around 20 million. When I speak of going into town, I mean going into the São Paulo city center. Sê is the heart of São Paulo. All streets are numbered and named from that point. The edges of the greater São Paulo extend up to a radius of 30km (18 miles) from that central point. That is a lot of people to squeeze into that area! Our traffic jams here are measured in kilometers. Tonight the backed up traffic totalled to 197km (122 miles). This city is Big!

I hope this gives you all a better idea of the world I live in and why I often speak of going into town as though it's a major adventure.

Do I or don't I?

Naturally, I do. I don't want to, but I will.

Jorge had to go into the village yesterday to resolve a tax issue. It was hot again. We've had a couple of days of what I consider typical Brazil weather, blazingly hot day with temperatures around 97°F (37°C) and thunderstorms in the late afternoon, early evening. He took very long coming home, which surprised me, as we've all been pretty much staying indoors to escape the heat. It turns out, he had met up with a buddy of his who asked him about English classes. It's well known around here that we're English speaking. He told this friend that I was the one who taught and that I'd give him a call later to arrange classes.

This is where the "do I or don't I" comes in. When we moved here, I gave up my students. The travel time and cost made it impractical to continue, as they were all right in town. One student would require 3 buses. For the amount I earned, it wouldn't be worth it at all. At first, I thought of taking up with an English school here, but once we'd moved in, I got hopeful that I could earn a living with my photo restoration and photography. I've been trying to phone this prospective student, but so far haven't managed to catch him at home. Typically, they only want an hour a week anyway, so its not such a big deal. We'll see how that goes.

Today, we got caught in a heavy storm rainfall when going into the village. We got thoroughly soaked and enjoyed it immensely. This evening, while figuring out the colour codes for my page here, I was listening to Andy Stewart (courtesy of Paula) who I found quite by accident.

I grew up listening to Andy Stewart. My grandad, Jim, as many of you know already, was a Scot. I think he would listen to Scottish Soldier when he was feeling homesick. He must surely have been homesick at some point. I can understand that. Hm.... perhaps I'll put some music in here. Everyone knows "Scottish soldier", but who of you know what this song is all about.......

Did I lose you there?

Soaked

That'll teach me for complaining. We had such a long period of super-dry. Now we have floods. Our house is on high ground, so it doesn't affect us, other than my very waterlogged flower pots.

This photo of a tiny portion of São Paulo wasn't taken by me. It is a Terra news photo:

It does give you a fairly good idea of what the city is like at the moment. I'd say its rather damp here, wouldn't you?

The photo at the top is mine though and is a photo of quebra pedra, a weed (or should that read 'volunteer plant'?) that I spent a very long time uprooting until one of the locals saw me and berated me for uprooting what is considered one of the 'sacred herbs'. 'Quebra pedra' translates literally to 'stone breaker' and is used as a remedy for kidney stones. The locals swear by it. It is a very pretty herb, the raindrops on its dainty leaves looking like tiny jewels.

This afternoon, we were meant to go into the village to enjoy the neighbourhood's 80'th birthday party. Vila Zelina is a Lithuanian community and was established in 1927. The celebration was to take place at the square. Pity it was a washout. This photo was taken at the square on a sunny day, the usual gathering of old (and not so old) men playing their dominoes. The dominoes table is always occupied, regardless of the time of day.

Rainy day

little bubbles float

down the stream

along the sidewalk

dancing, popping

tiny raindrops splash

on my face

touching my cheeks

feathery light, teasing

a puddle shimmers

in cloudy reflection

on my path

rippling, lapping

a watery fantasy

clouds play games

on a rainy day

dripping, sprinkling

© tint

Raindrops are falling on my head... *insert music note*

See what happens when you complain? We have gone from hot and dry to cold and wet. Overnight, the temperatures dropped and it is now cold with constant rain. Make that cold by Brazilian standards, with temperatures averaging 18°C (64°F).

In honour of this auspicious event (unaccustomed rain), I present you with one of Tat's favourite treats, Bolinha de chuva. Actually, it was a friend of hers that introduced us to this local confection. 'Bolinha de chuva' translates to 'little rain cake'. Every time this friend would visit, she would haul out the pot and the flour and make bolinha for us. She loved cooking at our place, as she wasn't allowed to at home. Herewith, my translation of a Bolinha de chuva recipe...

Bolinha de chuva (I added the Brazilian version of the recipe just as a curiosity)

Temperature: Hot
Difficulty: Easy
Preparation time: 10 minutes
Makes about 70 balls

Ingredients:
1 pinch of salt
about 1/2 cup of milk
4 tablespoons sugar
2 cups flour
1 level tablespoon of baking powder
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1 tablespoon cinnamon
oil for deep frying
3 cups of sugar for making the cinnamon sugar for sprinkling

Method:

In a bowl, mix flour, eggs, baking powder, sugar and salt. Add milk little by little with a mixer until you have a smooth batter. The mixture is ready when it starts to keep the shape of the balls. Heat sufficient oil in a frying pan to deep fry the balls. When the oil is hot, put small balls into the oil with a spoon. Fry the balls until golden brown and crisp. Remove with a straining spoon and place on paper towels to drain off oil. Toss balls in cinnamon sugar and they're ready to serve/eat/whichever-comes-first ;)

Portuguese version:

Temperatura: Quente
Dificuldade: Fácil
Tempo de preparo: 10 min
Rendimento: 70 unidades

Ingredientes:
1 pitada de sal
cerca de 1/2 xícara (chá) de leite
4 colheres (sopa) de açúcar
2 xícaras (chá) de farinha de trigo
2 ovos ligeiramente batidos
1 colher (sobremesa) rasa de fermento em pó
1 colher (sobremesa) de canela em pó
óleo para fritura
3 xícaras (chá) de açúcar (para misturar com a canela em pó)

Modo de Preparo:
Coloque numa tigela a farinha, os ovos, o fermento, o açúcar e o sal. Aos poucos, adicione o leite e misture com um batedor até obter uma massa homogênea. A massa estará no ponto quando começar a formar bolhas. Em uma frigideira, coloque bastante óleo e leve ao fogo. Quando estiver bem quente, coloque pequenas porções de massa, com o auxílio de uma colher. Frite os bolinhos, deixando-os dourar bem. Retire e coloque sobre papel toalha para absorver o excesso de óleo. Em seguida, passe os bolinhos no açúcar e na canela e sirva.

Footnote: I am about to totally lose it with Blogger.com. I have to reset my password every day and I know it's not me. Its the same one I have used ever since starting with Blogger. I simply reset it to what it was and it works. Enough already :(

Patterns

Do you see patterns in everything? Do you look at the clouds and see teddy bears, giants, mountainous landscapes? I see patterns all over. In the shower, I amuse myself seeing people, animals, flowers and all manner of other fascinating shapes in the water droplets collecting on the tiles. I will look at the pattern formed by the leaves blown on the grass or the moss on the ceramic pot outside. Heck, I see patterns in the oil in the pan and (shh, don't tell anyone) have even been guilty of photographing those patterns

I took bunches of pattern photos yesterday. I can't post them all, obviously, but see what fun you can have with these...

The patterns on the bark of the Eucalyptus tree

The patterns in a nest in the ground. I have no idea what nest this is. Giant ants?

A piece of bark on the ground?

This last photo has me chuckling. I was hunkered down on the ground and kept having to push Romany away. Me on the ground with him takes him back to his puppyhood and he loves it. I couldn't get him completely out of the photo. See if you can spot Romany ;)

Just up the road

Yesterday, Jorge and I went for a walk to the crematorium up the road. The man is crazy... it was extremely hot and he opted to go right after lunch. I came home looking like a broiled lobster. The dogs flitted from one shady patch to the next. Even hyperactive Dingo spent a lot of time just lying in the shade.

Guess which one of the two is laid-back Romany and which one is hyperactive Dingo. Of course, you can't see her tail whipping back and forth in this photo. I personally think she's a clockwork dog and needs to wind herself up all the time.
The crematorium grounds here is where everyone goes for their exercise, to walk the dog and to just get out a bit. Its the only place around here with any amount of green... if you can call it green. Everything is dead. Between the heat and the lack of rain, there was very little green to be found at all.

If you didn't know where you were, you'd have sworn it was Autumn with the banked up mounds of crisp brown leaves.

The crematorium is divided into two parts. One part for the wealthier, with little headstones and the other part for those whose dedication is far greater than their purses. Ashes were sprinkled around trees, flowers planted, signs and ornaments put up. It was my first visit there. I had avoided going there for so long, thinking it would be depressing, but that wasn't the case at all.
I do hope we get rain soon. Brazil isn't meant to be a dry country... at least, not this part, although a part of me is grateful because, on a more personal note, the dryness is far easier to deal with than the humidity.

Moving

Two things have let me down here at Blogspot.

1) It's not very community-orientated. I like people. I like visiting blogs (and not just a random choice when one clicks on 'next). I like people visiting my blog. I find Blogspot to be very difficult to navigate to see other blogs and broaden my horizons. I won't even go into the fact that not a soul reads blogs in here. Few blogs I visited through the ubiquitous 'next' button at the top right had any number of commentors.

2) The new Blogspot has me disgusted. It is well known that I live in Brazil, but I am English! I want to manage my blog in my language... not the language that their cookies decide I should be using. Sure, I can switch my language preference to English, but when visiting friends' blogs, I get to face a comments page in Portuguese. I don't like the new Blogspot. I didn't choose it. I was finally forced to accept it or not access my blog. They want it that way, they can have it that way.

My blog is now at Yahoo 360°. The community spirit is wonderful and its so easy to browse and find new friends. There are a number of ways for me to show my photography and tools that allow so much flexibility with page design and blog post setup.

Do stop over and visit: http://360.yahoo.com/tintalasia.

Christmas 2006

Christmas eve was beautiful. We exchanged our gifts at midnight, as we do every year - who wants to wait for morning?? From Linda, in Vancouver, I received a mini scrapbook album to decorate and fill in as I wish. Its done in a poinsettia style.... very pretty. So at the end of the evening, just before I went to bed, I journalled in it:

"Tonight we had our most special and memorable Christmas ever. Tat wrote a message to us on a 'scroll' and resting on it was a tsuru bird for luck. Jorge had already given us our memory sticks for our immigration documents. We each have one now. I made mini-scraps for Jorge and Tat with the theme, '10 things I love about you'.

We had a Runescape Christmas We all met in the party room at Seers Village. It was fun!

The fireworks are very loud and seemingly unending. We gave the dogs some rescue remedy and treats to calm them. Its warm and damp outside after a day of rain."

For those who don't know, Runescape is an online game set in medieval times. We play it as a family. Some people watch TV, we play Runescape.

Christmas day was just as good. I still need to write it up and print the photos for the scrap book. We slept late, had our Christmas 'photo shoot' and prepared our Christmas slunch (sic) of turkey, carrot salad, potato casserole, green bean salad, beetroot salad - yes, there are a lot of salads. Its too hot for the traditional fare. Our South African custom is to have cold meats and salads for Christmas. Turkey was a brave move for me this year. For desert there was this super-rich chocolate tart. Halfway through our slivers of tart, we gave up and packed the rest away for later.

Today was a lazy day of Runescape, cleaning up a little and this afternoon/evening, we watched Eragon. Nice movie... reminded me a lot of LOTR. Jorge has gone to bed now. I'm settling to sort out the rest of the photos and journal the Christmas. Tat is colouring in. Yep, she got a new set of coloured pencils for Christmas and has downloaded and printed some pics to colour in

White Christmas!!

We had a snowball fight today - in Brazil!


Reality check: Its raining buckets outside, interspersed with thunder. We took the turkey out of the freezer this morning. It was quite thoroughly caked with ice. Tat started scraping the ice off - a weirdism of hers. She scrapes ice from the supermarket freezers too. I looked at her hands and it looked so like snow... white, crystally and cold. I scraped off a handful and threw it at her.... she threw some back - a snowball fight!! It was wonderful! We decided to spread our seasonal cheer to where Jorge was sitting. Suffice to say, he's threatened to get his own back on us =D

The spice cookies are in the oven and I've just taken the first batch out. They came out perfect and smell heavenly! Once they're all done (I quadrupled the mixture), I'll get started on the shortbread and the chocolate cookies. Yum!

And so this is Christmas...

So this is christmas
And what have you done
Another year over
And a new one just begun
And so this is christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear ones
The old and the young a very merry christmas
And a happy new year
Let’s hope it’s a good one
Without any fear and so this is christmas
For weak and for strong
For rich and the poor ones
The war is so long
And so happy christmas
For black and for white
For yellow and red ones
Let’s stop all the fight a very merry christmas
And a happy new year
Let’s hope it’s a good one
Without any fear and so this is christmas
And what have we done
Another year over
And a new one just begun
And so happy christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear ones
The old and the young a very merry christmas
And a happy new year
Let’s hope it’s a good one
Without any fear and so this is christmas
And what have we done
Another year over
And a new one just begun

And so this is Christmas... and what have we done... Another year has passed and what have I done. Nothing much of anything, it seems. No major accomplishment. A couple of new friends, the loss of a couple of old friends. Am I a better person than I was last year this time? I wish I could say I was. Well, I'm working on it and working on getting the newly resident 'Grinch' atmosphere cleaned out here.

So... And so this is christmas. I hope you have fun, The near and the dear ones, The old and the young a very merry christmas And a happy new year... Let’s hope it’s a good one....

Saturday...

And I decided to, once again, clear out my mailbox. I'm an e-mail junkie, packrat, hoarder... there's no hope for me ;) So, I went to the bottom of my mail pile. The oldest message is always a good place to start, but the hardest too, as it is usually a message that I have decided once before to keep. It turns out to be a poem sent to me by my very dear friend, Diane. I can't possibly delete it, though I may do the intelligent thing and save it somewhere, so the mailbox can be lightened. And then I can do the next best thing... share it with others, as its so beautiful.

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder,
You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger,
May you never take one single breath for granted,
God forbid love ever leaves you empty handed,
I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,
When ever one door closes I hope one more opens,
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

I hope you dance...I hope you dance

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance,
Never settle for the path of least resistance,
Livin' might mean takin' chances but they're worth takin'
Lovin' might be a mistake but it's worth makin'
Don't let some hell bent heart leave you bitter,
When you come close to sellin' out consider,
Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

I hope you dance...I hope you dance I hope you dance...I hope you dance
(Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along,
Tell me who wants to look back on their years
and wonder where those years have gone.)

I hope you feel small when you stand beside the ocean,
When ever one door closes I hope one more opens,
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

Dance.. I hope you dance...I hope you dance I hope you dance...I hope you dance
(Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along
Tell me who wants to look back on their years
And wonder where those years have gone.)

Lee Ann Womack

Isn't it beautiful?
Its hot here again today with an incredibly high humidity, thanks to the thunder showers we're expecting later. Tat is on her way out to meet a friend. I hope she doesn't get caught in it. We have low-lying areas between here and town that will be flooded.

I slept late this morning. Nothing too unusual considering my 3am bedtime. My plans for the day? Well, I need to work on something I have for madam while she is out. Need to get laundry and dishes done first - there, my note of the mundane thrown in. Hm... and I simply have to get started on my Christmas baking. Chocolate creams (for South Africans, they're Romany creams), Spice cookies, and the quintessential shortbread.

Away in a manger

I was about 3 when my gran, Ouma, who raised me, decided I had to have some sort of religious training. She was Nederduitse Gereformde Kerk and my grandad, Jim (everyone called him Jim) was Presbytarian, like all good Scotsmen. So one Sunday morning, Ouma marched me down to the Salvation Army on the corner, where I was introduced to Aunty Val who sat at the door welcoming all the kids to Sunday school. A little later, I was shown through to the hall where the children gathered for Sunday school. I remember clearly the rows of wooden chairs… the kind with the flip-up seats (many a boy lifted one of those while I was sitting and made me fall over the years). The floors were wood. To the left of me as I walked through the door was a strange entrance. I found later it led to a den under the stage – a most exciting place. Up ahead was the kitchen, an office, a store room and the ablutions. But this day, the gathering was in the main hall. Ouma took me on a good day. There was no Sunday school. We were going on a march.

We walked through the main streets of Port Elizabeth, Aunty Val holding my hand. Everyone looked so smart in their uniforms and the band played beautifully. My eyes must have been like saucers. I was in awe. It became my dream to wear a uniform. The Salvation Army taught me about the Bible. They taught me about caring for others. They taught me about love for my brothers and sisters. They encouraged our talent and trained us for leadership. It was my second home for so many years.

Christmas time! If there is a part of my childhood Christmases I treasure and holds happy memories for me, it is the part that I spent in Salvation Army activities. A while beforehand, we would go from door to door with our little wooden boxes. Naturally, I was accompanied by an adult. We collected, so that we could make Christmas special for those who would otherwise go without. In later years, I became part of the sorting of other donations for this as well. Then the most exciting part – the carolling! We would all stand on the back of a truck. The band sat at the ‘front’ behind the driver’s cab and, as the truck drove slowly through the streets, we would sing our hearts out. I loved those evenings on the back of the truck carolling! I was listening to ‘Away in a manger’ playing tonight and the memories came flooding back.

I still love carolling. Oh, another favourite Christmas memory has just come to mind – Carols by Candle-light in Happy Valley, Port Elizabeth. Happy Valley was where the river that ran through Settler’s Park ended before running into the sea at Humewood beach. The place was a popular picnic and strolling spot by day and by night, a fairy tale come true. In among the bushes and trees were lit-up scenes, sprinkled with fairy lights. If anyone out there reading this blog has photos of Happy Valley at Christmas time in the 70’s, please let me know! Nativity scenes, Disney scenes, fairy tale scenes…. a child’s dream come true. I honestly believed that those scenes would spring to life at any moment. In the flatter area, closer to the beach with the fun fair up on the hill, they had Carols by Candle-light. We each held a candle in a paper candle holder and by the light of those candles, in front of the huge Christmas tree and the lit up Nativity scene, we sang carols in the dark. What a beautiful scene from the hill… all these candles and lit up faces and the music…!

If my Ouma were alive today, I would love to thank her for giving me those very special memories to hold on to and hopefully pass on to Tatiana and the generations to come. My wish for all my friends is that you also build special Christmas memories and traditions and experience the love and joy of the season in so many ways.

Water, water everywhere...

São Paulo is flooding. There are areas flooding that don’t usually get flooded much. Below the Pinheiros River (or next to it or somewhere), there is a huge underground reservoir to collect flood water. Well, the Pinheiros flooded and the surrounding neighbourhoods along with it. We have moved away from the Tiete River now and I see those areas are pretty much under water now.

If you would like to brave some Portuguese, stop by at Terra and look at the photos. Scroll down on the page until you see, in bold print, “Veja mais fotos” with a tiny camera next to it. The rather bland photo, with no apparent flooding is just drawing attention to the fact that there was 115km (71 miles) of backed up traffic in the city. A few of my own photos of São Paulo’s version of ‘in the wet’ can be found here.

My daily gratitude: I am grateful to be in a house that doesn’t leak and I am grateful to be on a hill. The days of sweeping water out of the house are over. That is surely good =)

Turkeys and trimmings

Its Christmas time. On Dec. 1st, I decided to go officially into Christmas mode. Many have already received the cards we sent out. Just hope the few gifts get to their destination on time. I, once again, made our own cards. I really enjoyed making these. If I had a regret, its that they are small. I should perhaps have made them bigger. Next year, I think I’ll do A5 cards with more trimmings.

We put up the tree yesterday. I video’d it with grand plans to make a spectacular Christmassy… uh…. thing to send out to friends. I’ll see what I can do with that. The tree looked miniscule (judging by the glorious pines I see on the net), but gorgeous! Then last night, I was sitting peacefully at my desk when… crash… the tree came down. Specs sat here with huge saucer eyes, so I immediately expected her paw to have been involved. I took the fragile ornaments off, just in case, and put the tree back up. Jorge says it came down this morning again, he left it down, and said Specs was sleeping in her box at the time, so she wasn’t the guilty party. We just have a highly unbalanced tree *sigh* So today, we’re making tree plans… to see what we can come up with to keep the thing upright for the month.

And…. today… I am cooking turkey for the first time ever! Wish me luck. Roasts aren’t my strong point, though I do a pretty good chicken roast and this is just a huge chicken, right? We bought the turkey for Christmas day, but delivery was overnight and it arrived home partially thawed, so we have to cook it. That’s fine with me, as it gives me a practice run for Christmas. I’m going to cook rice with the turkey, as madam doesn’t eat mash - sacrilege – I love mash! Anyhow…. the turkey won’t be cooked with me sitting here. Its time to take the covers off and get it in the oven…

Zuurberg

I’m having a serious case of ‘wanna go home’. I had a dream the other night that is still with me. I dreamt I went back to Zooberg – or Zuurberg Inn, its real name. I dreamt there are new owners (naturally, as its been more than 25 years since I was there). The building had changed somewhat, though it was added on to the original structure. I dreamt I met the new owners, who didn't know me, naturally, but were interested in the stories I had of years gone by at the Inn. Some time later, I met an old man who recognised me, though I didn't recognise him. He reminded me who he was, the man who used to take me horse-riding as a little girl. As he spoke, in my dream, I remembered parts of my experiences at Zooberg that I had long forgotten. I dreamt too, that I got a job there and we found work for Jorge and Tatiana too.

The next morning, I looked up Zuurberg Inn on the net and found it looking much like it did in my childhood. Gosh, I can even smell the place! I remember the kitchen knew me well and always had a bowl of their custard ready for me for my desert. Custard still has the power to take me back to those idyllic days. I so want to go back. I will still go back... some day. Those were happy, innocent days.

Busy busy...

Its been hectic around here, but I’m finally seeing ‘the light’. Seal Restore depends on word of mouth and folks going to the site. Seal Restore is where my heart lies. I so enjoy working on history…. with all the human interest that surrounds it. Then there’s the Store =) My favourite part of the store is the printable greeting cards and the bookmarks. They’re so easy to open and print. We’re especially proud of our new gsd files though for Wishblade and Craft Robo fans. We’re going full-steam ahead with creating these files. I hope to soon have them integrated with the greeting cards, bookmarks and scrap sets. Carol is so talented and is a wonderful partner in this. Her video tutorials should attract a lot of attention – they’re great! Yesterday, a friend (thank you Cheryl) sent me a link. This lady started baking out of her kitchen and now has her own commercial bakery and even takes online orders for mailing. Now I can do that! My kitchen is by no means fancy, but it works and the things I bake are good. The question is finding the market. What I bake is not known around here, so I’ll have to introduce it to the locals. I’ll see how that goes. For now, I am setting about pricing my ingredients and calculating profits. Hm… I think I’ll involve Jorge in that. Perhaps a “Seal Confections” is in the making? Maybe not… the locals will understand ‘confection’ to be tailored clothing. I need a way around that.

We have another rainstorm this afternoon. The sky turns a greenish colour. I guess summer is truly here. And we bathed the dogs this past weekend…. nice wet dog smells coming up. On the subject of dogs, we had Rover put down this week, so we’re down to 2 dogs. Ah… life happens…

Pete's pond

This is where I wish I had a larger readership of this blog. I wanted to share Pete's pond with the world.

Pete's pond is a live cam in Botswana, where one can watch African wildlife around-the-clock. Do yourself a favour and go to the link on the National Geographic site. You will need to install Real Player to watch, but it is well worth it.
http://www9.nationalgeographic.com/ngm/wildcamafrica/

Enjoy the stunning African sunsets, bird calls, elephant calves frolicking at the water's edge, various buck. The whole video is in real time, so you'll watch and hear the wind in the trees. See the wind ruffling the feathers of a kingfisher in the thorn tree on the side of the pond. At night, thanks to the night-vision camera, you can watch the cats come out.

For those who, for some reason, can't support the video, stop by at the wildlife flash-cards. This is great for children. Click on each animal, hear what its called in Tswana, the local language, listen to information on the animal that goes beyond what the encyclopedia will tell you. See what the animal's tracks look like and more.
http://www9.nationalgeographic.com/ngm/wildcamafrica/animal_gallery.html

I have decided to keep the cam open in my browser just for the sound effects. Can't think why... but I love the sound of the African bushveld ;)

counting petals

A blog 'must visit'... counting petals

I was blog-surfing tonight. There are some weird, wonderful, strange, thought-provoking blogs out there, but few I felt the need to save and go back to. Lené's photo's are perfect in their reflection of the world she visits and her writing creates pictures and sensations in my mind. I've been told I'm very visual. Reading her word transported me to where she was, feeling the breeze, the sand....

Do yourself a favour and visit her blog!

Updates

I've been updating my site. I just need to get the Brazil albums all uploaded, but of course, your's truly has decided in her infinite wisdom to redo a number of the pages. Might have something to do with Tatiana's frantic working on her site - its catchy. Her site is looking great. Do stop by and visit and bookmark it while you're there to see her poems and stories.

Oh and while I'm talking about sites, please take a moment to visit the ASPCA's blog. There is some really good info on pet care.
http://www.aspca.org/aspcablog/index.html

Just muddling along

I was trying to word what I would write in my blog and got to thinking about the Oval. The Oval, in Port Elizabeth, was an athletics sports track with a field in the center. It was used by the local schools for athletics day and field games. My title for my blog was going to be 'running in circles', but it should have been, 'running in ovals'. I have this sensation of running around and around looking for the starting line - never mind the finish line. In front of me is a 'to do' list. I look at it daily. The items are so varied and so unrelated to each other that I simply usually don't know where to start and often don't get started at all as a result.

Tonight was pancake night. Pancake night on a Sunday is traditional in our little family.... a tradition that started when Tatiana was around 4. Oh, pancakes, for us, are thickish crepes... not the paper-thin French type... and sprinkled with cinnamon sugar. We absolutely pig out (talk about killing sugar cravings!) Of course, its not always cinnamon sugar. If I have other goodies that go well in pancakes, we have that. Nothing slimming, of course. Sometimes savoury mince (ground beef) or chicken in white sauce, or whatever. When Tat was little, we used to do the pancakes in the lounge and make them while watching Disney. I would haul out our camping gas drum and cook the pancakes as we watched. That poor pancake pan made pancakes for our school fetes when I was in primary school. Jorge replaced the handle for me a couple of years ago and its feeling like its going again. I really think its time for a new pan.

To those that read this blog, have a simply wonderful week!

Falling off the bandwagon

Its been a while since I blogged. No apologies :) I always said I was the world's worst at keeping journals or diaries.

Hm... new and newsy?

Tatiana did her stint in South Africa. Many lessons learnt and an enriching experience for her. I need to look back in my blog to see if I wrote about that time. It wasn't a good time for me. I hankered to go home myself, but wanted her to see her country of birth and learn to love it as I do. At the same time, it was extremely hard letting go of my daughter and friend for so long. She came home changed too. New attitudes, renewed goals and full of... verve! Gosh, I haven't heard or used that word in years. For those who are bound to ask, it refers to enthusiasm, vigour, spirit, vivaciousness (not that she's ever lacked any of that).

Jorge has just returned from his stint in Lithuania. He's in love. I just know that if we showed the slightest inclination, he'd pack our bags and ship us off to live there. He took no less than 6 dvd's worth of photos! We haven't even looked at the video footage he took yet. As soon as I have been through the photos - how on earth will I choose? - I will put a selection up on my site. Watch this space for news. Jorge is thrilled with his family up there. They treated him well and he discovered a lot about his ancestry and got the documents he needs for his EU passport.

Its nose back to the grindstone now though. All the holidaying and traipsing around the globe is at an end for a while. I'm working very hard on getting Seal Restore going and actually earning for us. Then there's More than Molly, where I now sell my graphics related goodies. The store is looking good with stuff for digital scrappers and those wanting to print clipart, bookmarks and greeting cards too, not to mention note paper and so much more. I'm branching out into gsd files for Craftrobo and Wishblade too. Hey, something there for everyone! =)

My to-do list for tomorrow is looking far too long. I need to go shopping before anything else gets done. Nooooo fun! I think I am going to go back to preparing my monthly menu's. Its such a big help knowing in advance what to buy and cook. Not tonight though. I'm past my bedtime and am trying to get rid of this horrible cold before it gets me down.

Have a great Spring to those of you who, like me, are in the southern hemisphere. Apparently the south of Brazil has had -10°C (14°F) temps with snow, so we're heading into a cold front for our spring. Not too bad, considering our winter has been a milder version of summer.

Now you see it, now you don't... continued...

I guess you were wondering about the odd title of the blog, which didn't seem to fit in with anything in the content. That is just one small example of a wandering mind. My humblest apologies!

After getting our hose fitting in Florenço de Abril, we made our way to the shopping center for lunch. On the way, we were walking along yet another hawker-filled road, just in time to witness a typical downtown São Paulo phenomenon. I wanted to video it, but Jorge cautioned that it might mean the end of me and the video, so I compromised by just standing there with my jaw hanging open.

Hawking isn't illegal here, but what is illegal is selling pirated products. Those hawking 'cultural' items or any form of home made artwork or craft are left alone. I don't know how the hawkers get the message across. I want to impress on the reader here, that all this happens in a blink of an eye. Its quite possible to miss the whole thing. One moment, you're walking along looking around at all the goods for sale, and in a flash, its all gone. The pedestrians continue as though nothing has happened. Somehow, the hawkers and their goods melt into the tarmac, walls, sidewalks... who knows where they disappear to. The next scene involves a police cruiser moving slowly along picking its way between pedestrians. I turned to watch the passage of the cruiser and when I turned back, it was as though nothing had changed to start with. The hawkers were there as though they'd never moved!

One day, before I leave Brazil, I want to catch this on camera. It definitely has to be seen to be believed!

Now you see it, now you don't

First, let me assure you all that São Paulo has returned to normality, or about as normal as it can get here. I think even the criminals are aware that World Cup football is about to start!

Yesterday, we went into town. See... we need an excuse to go to town, so we puzzled and planned and fretted till we found one. We desperately needed a clamp for our second hose pipe. So off we tootled into town.

We took the bus to Liberdade, as it has some interesting goings on regardless of when you walk through there. Just seeing McDonalds written up in Japanese, along with our bank and Pão de Queijo is interesting enough.

Strolling along, I spotted an interesting sight. It was an outdoor hairdresser. This chap had set up his trade in a square, surrounded by the bustle of downtown traffic. His client, a lady streetsweeper. I would like to bet she felt every bit as pampered as I do when going to the hairdresser.

As we walked further, we spotted the black and white flags with red ribbons fluttering above the streets. This was something new. They were putting up bandstands in various locations. São Paulo is apparently having a combination of a cultural weekend and protests at government corruption. An interesting combination to be sure. There was a distinct air of rushing among the shoppers. For a start, shops close downtown at 1pm and the festivities were due to start at 1:30pm.

Our walk eventually took us down to Florenço de Abril, the road that sells hardware for the DIY handyman and everything else they can jam onto that stretch of road. The sidewalks are too full to hold all the hawkers, so they spill over onto the tarmac. There is little room to move among the DVD and CD sellers, razorblade sellers, pirated power tool sellers, refurbished powertool sellers, sweet sellers, cochinha-maker sellers... the list goes on. I managed to take a photo at the less busy end. I must say though, compared to previous visits, Florenço de Abril was reasonably quiet.

Well, we bought the silly fitting we travelled into town to get and then went to Shopping Light. Shopping Light is a shopping center that use to house the electricity department; thus the reference to Light. It is a beautiful old building. My only complaint is that you have to go up 5 stories to get to the eating mall. We got our lunch at Jorge's favourite haunt, Coração Mineiro, a restaurant that serves food from Minas, one of the interior states of Brazil. It is what we call a kilo grill. You pay for your food by weight, which is great because you only pay for what you eat (good for kids and dieters). The food is pretty good and fairly reasonable. I got wrapped over the knuckles by a very polite security guard for taking this photo. I gather no photos are allowed of the restaurants. Guess I looked like I was planning a heist ;) Oh... on the far left of the photo, in the dark, is Jorge. I told the well-meaning security guard that I was just taking a photo of my husband as a lembrança (souvenir). Well, it was half true!

It was drizzling lightly as we left the shopping center, but not for long. We wandered around a while before heading home. The trip home was uneventful. For that matter, so was the whole day, but at least I took some photos, right?

Today was a day for darning and cleaning. You don't want photos of that :)

Day 5 of the violence

Some photos...

The inside of one of the burnt-out buses

Another bus was burnt, in the area where Tat did her bridal modelling. Police have killed another 17 suspects, most caught in the act of throwing molotov cocktails - sorry, I don't know the details. The 'bandits' have attacked a school in Perus, one of the outlying neighbourhoods and they've attacked a few police officers' homes.

The city is still very quiet, though people are trying to go around as normal. Today is street market day and our road is usually a steady stream of housewives to and fro'ing, but few are passing. I haven't seen kids playing in the streets for so long and the neighbourhood gossips are staying well out
of sight, instead of at their gates.

On the bright side, the sun is shining and its a gorgeous day. I love the wintery sun here! Jorge went into town today. He says its quiet. Avenida Paulista usually has a certain 'buzz' to it, which is missing, but otherwise a lot of business is open again. All justice related buildings and offices had their main doors closed.

Rights for who?

We had planned to go into town today, but we can't... along with a large proportion the city. São Paulo's extensive public transport system is 'paralysed' (to quote the reporters). Buses have been burnt, so the bus companies are on an involuntary strike, as they want more security. Who can blame them. The bandits cut the buses off, get on, order everone off the bus and set fire to it. Up to 8am this morning, 44 buses have been burnt. Cops are stopping buses to search. Bank agencies have been held up and burnt. A fire-station has been attacked. The city is a mess. And why??? For 'human rights'.

Off the top of your head, when you think of human rights, who do you think of? Mafia bosses? Not likely. The PCC (a criminal organisation) is creating havoc in the city - to me, it borders on terrorism - because they want their bosses who are in high security lockup to have full cell phone access (so they can run their operations from inside), intimate time during visits, at least 60 television sets to watch the world cup and they want the prison uniforms changed from yellow or orange to grey.... Hello???? Human rights???

Guess what, Mr Esteemed Prisoner, I don't have cell phone access half the time. I don't own a TV at all, much less a whole bank of TV's. As for colour of uniforms? I love yellow and orange, but we all know why they want grey... its so that they can blend easier when they escape. And what is the point of prison if they get privileges? You do wrong, you commit a crime, you get punished. Or have I missed some vital point here?

Sorry, I don't usually like going off on political/contentious issues, but this really got to me. What about the rights of the people in the bank agencies being assaulted and burnt? What about the rights of the people to transport without fear? What about the rights of the people who need the transport to work or they don't get paid? What about the rights of people to protection against crime? Come on... I want someone from human rights organisations to explain this to me.

The other side of my toast

In a two-week long experiment, I have proved that I'm very shallow in my choices - with toast. Isn't that weird?

Every day, I make myself two slices of toast and every day, I eat the 'better looking' slice of toast last... the one with least burnt patches on it (old childhood habit that, leaving the nicer stuff for last... probably explains half my weight issues). And every day, without fail, I find that the nicer looking slice of toast is the slice with the most burnt patches underneath. So... where's the point to all this?

Recently, a friend of mine went on a 'new friend making' expedition. She went through a number of profiles and chose people who shared the same interests as her. Being a really sweet lady, with very family-orientated interests, she looked for people of the same type. One of her choices was a lady who's whole profile was about her young children and husband. In all, a very ordinary and nice looking person... until my friend clicked on what was listed as her home page. The home page was all about very explicit.... er.... relations (I have to confound the filters here). No, it was not a false link, as the lady's own photos appeared among the other very explicit ones. The burnt side of the toast. This lady is a fine example of the way we often choose the choose the 'better looking slice of toast'.

Now the other side of the toast, the 'rough diamonds', as my gran used to call them. My life is full of rough diamonds and overdone bread. I think it comes from always being in either the frying pan or the fire. People who, at first glance, you'd keep them at a safe distance and just observe. I remember one lady we met as a group of friends. The first day, one word came to mind, 'wacko'. She was so far removed from everything I was familiar with. Over the years, we have all laughed with her and learnt so much about people and life in general from her. She became one of the mainstays of our group of friends. Yes, she is still very different, but then, so am I in my own way. The man I chose to marry was another one, in fact, my gran's favourite 'rough diamond'. Definitely not a person who fitted into what people consider the 'norm', but a strong, generous, heart-of-gold type of person.

I guess I'm going to have to learn to flip my toast over in future, so that the true nice piece of toast becomes the keeper.

A newbie story

On the way home in the bus today, the usual hawker got on and started handing out his wares. Jorge started laughing and reminded me of an incident when I was a newbie foreigner in Brazil. Its a silly story, but enough to bring me out in blushes and cause a few chuckles among friends and family.

As a freshly landed, newbie foreigner, I was on my way to my second meeting with the English school I was going to teach through. I was on was approaching my destination bus stop when a woman got on the bus and proceeded to hand a packet of sweets to each passenger. I can't remember what sweets they were. I simply remember being unfamiliar with them and tucking them into my bag, thinking, "Wow! What effective advertising... giving out samples on the buses."

I arrived at my meeting and related my very positive experience of this new country. I just couldn't understand their incredulous looks and subsequent laughing. The one lady said to me, "Nothing is for nothing here. If its free, there's a catch". I was so embarassed and felt so guilty when they explained what had happened. I really felt bad for the woman who relied on the income from those sweets. Gosh, was I naïve! And I didn't learn my lesson...

A couple of months later, I was wandering down Avenida Paulista, which, I would say, is the main business road in São Paulo. I was stopped by a nurse, rigged out in white robes as nurses usually appear, with stethoscope around the neck, and holding a blood pressure cuff. "Oh!", says naïve me to myself, "a health care program!" I submitted to the test, as I have a bit of a blood pressure issue and was sincerely interested in the results. After giving me my results, she held out her hand waiting for her pay. My face must have been a picture (I bet she was wishing she had a camera on her!). Needless to say, my Portuguese back then was absolutely hopeless and it took her a little while to communicate her demand of the R$5 payment. My colleague's words came back to me, "nothing is for nothing here" and I payed. I confess, I was a little huffy with her. She really could have told me before-hand. But lets be honest here... she probably did tell me and using my excellent interpretive skills, I understood her to be giving a speech on health care.

Meanderings of an idle mind

My pc is being formatted! I feel as though my left arm has been cut off. Please note its the left and not the right. Thankfully, I can use Tatiana's pc or it would have been my right arm. I have so many projects that I've been putting off that suddenly became 'very urgent' when I couldn't do the. This formatting business is seriously getting in the way of my creativity (like I needed an excuse). Jorge has done a format that writes zero's to the disk down to 7 layers. Please, please, do not write and ask me what that means because I'd be obliged to quote Jorge and it won't make sense ;)

Last night, we bussed into town, so that Jorge could rent a car. We ordered a cheapy - without aircon or electric windows, etc, but got an upgrade because they didn't have a cheapy in stock. Nice little car. We were rather amused by the sales lady, "Don't you miss electric windows? I can't imagine having to wind up my windows... and no power steering!?" We just looked at each other and it was quite clear that memories of our first pride and joy, our canary-yellow Toyota hatchback corolla came to mind.

Jorge went out early this morning to a meeting at the Lithuanian consulate to discuss the itinery for the upcoming Lithuania tour. Apparently, they'll be stopping off in Amsterdam for 6 hours and are trying to fit in a tour there on the way. That will be nice. The main tour will be in Vilnius, then on to Trakai, and from there around Lithuania, border to border. Jorge will then go to Vievus, which is between Electrenai and Vilnius, where his family is. Its strange planning his trip while Tat is still away.

After the meeting at the consulate, he gave one old lady a ride home. She was going to take a cab. Chuckle for the day. She lives in the South zone and the consulate is in the south zone too, but some distance away. Not being a driver herself, she suggested that Jorge take the road he knows to her neighbourhood. At the end, she thanked him for the tour of the city, saying she hadn't had so much fun in ages and actually saw parts of hte city she hadn't been to for many years. Jorge had gone from an area in the south zone, all the way through the centre to the north zone and then back around the city to the south zone!

This evening, we went out to dinner. At 6:30pm, the traffic was moving at a crawl. We eventually got to the shopping center to find queues of cars waiting for parking. Ok, so I needed to get some exercise before supper. Fortunately, the queues for tables at The Outback were only starting, so we had a short wait. The pina colada I ordered was awful, but the Wallabee Damned (I'm sure the wording of that drink was lost on the locals) was very tasty. We ordered the dipped onion (I'm sure it had some Aussie name), which was scrummy. For the main, I ordered ribs 'n chips (so this one probably also had some appropriate title), of which I managed to finish maybe up to a third. Jorge got the Drover's something-or-the-other, consisting of ribs and chicken breasts! Needless to say, he declined to help me finish mine, so we'll be having an Outback lunch tomorrow. The doggy bag we brought home looked a bit like our week end grocery shopping in quantity. Oh, we asked the waiter, they don't have a term for doggy bags here. You just ask for your meal as a take-away. How boring. We were busy with coffee when the lady at the next table chimed to her waiter, "Does this restaurant only serve Australian food or can we order Brazilian food?" Its not as though there's a shortage of restaurants serving authentic Brazilian food. I guess she was being adventurous ;)

Books, the smell of history and chocolate

As a child, we had many little traditions. It was tradition to eat pasta on a Thursday night. Sundays, we ate at a hotel or restaurant. This kind of thing makes up the framework of my memories. If I had to choose a favourite tradition, it was the Friday night tradition.

Jim, my grandfather, not my real grandfather, mind... he was my step grandfather, but to me, he was... a hero. A true-blue Scotsman and one of the most generous people I've ever known. He taught me to 'drive'. For work, he had a combi and would allow me to stand between his feet and steer. Can you imagine anyone getting away with that today??? He taught me the joys of burning patterns in polystyrene with a soldering iron (till I discovered that my gran's nail varnish remover did the same trick). Oh, he taught me many things, but of all the treasures he gave me, it was Friday nights and the joy of reading.

Jim would finish work earlier than usual every Friday. He'd load me into the car and we'd head down to the Port Elizabeth public library. To me, as a child, the building was awe-inspiring. The main entrance was dominated by an enormous statue of Queen Victoria. Slightly off to one side was the door to the children's library. Next to that was the main entrance. Back then, the building to me was simply beautiful without me knowing why it was beautiful. Today, I can admire the warm tones of its structure and its elegant Elizabethan design. The library was built in 1835 and was first used as a courthouse. It was only used as a library in 1902. Today, it is home to more than 45 000 books.

My grandad would walk me to the front door of the children's library and my own personal paradise. Once in there, I would lose myself in tales of adventure, colour and fantasy. I learned to love books and love reading in that library. The children's library of my memory was bright and colourful and staffed with ladies who had, I'm sure, as great a fascination with the stories as I had, or so I imagined anyway. At 6pm, the children's library would close and I'd step out into reality for a second before being transported another world entirely.

I cannot even begin to describe the main library. I'm finding words fail me. Now you must remember, I haven't been there in many years, so if my memory isn't accurate, forgive me and tell me what it's really like. The main library room goes up and up and up for what seems like forever (talking of up and up and up from a 7 year old's perspective). Every time I stepped in there, I would tip my head back and look around at the rows upon rows of books, probably vowing I'd read them all one day. In moments of sheer adventure, I would climb the staircases to the narrow passages that lined the walls of books. The handrails were beautifully carved, the wood smooth and warm to my hands. I smelt the books. I still remember the smell of old paper, leather, slightly dusty... never musty. My sense of adventure might have taken me up those stairs, but I didn't dream of touching any of those books. My awe was almost of a religious nature. They were too much for me.

Back downstairs, I'd weave in and out of the passageways created by yet more bookshelves and on to the reading room. Here, the world changed again. I tiptoed up to where Jim was reading, my footsteps sounding loud in the silence. The hush was so loud, you could feel it, like a soft blanket around you. Old men would briefly look up from their newspapers, which were stacked on darkwood tents. I'd snuggle up to Jim while he finished his paper and gaze around the wood panels. It was a serious room.

I remember leaving the library and going up a side road to a parking area. My grandad would then take out a slab of chocolate, which he and I would share on the way home, completing the experience for me. Not a week went by without books and chocolate. I'm still a bookworm... any wonder chocolate comes wrapped in the same experience package. You know, from the time we left home to when we returned, we hardly said anything. I don't think words were really necessary.

Rich man... or poor man?

In São Paulo, I use public transport... train, metro, bus, cab, etc. They've pretty much wiped out begging and hawking in the metro system. Its been a while since I've taken the train, but last I checked, it still had its share of hawkers and beggars. The cabs only have the ones at the traffic lights to worry about, but the buses.... !

Today, we first had the paçoca seller. I bought some, as we both like paçoca. Imagine peanut butter in a sweet form.... dryer, but with the same taste and it crumbles in your mouth.
Yumm... when I'm really desperate for peanut butter, which, here, is extremely expensive, I crumble paçoca onto my heavily buttered bread... a dieter's nightmare! :)

Our next 'visitor' was a blind guy. Now I have every sympathy for the blind. I give unstintingly and buy their products, but on the buses?? No. Jorge tells a story of how, when he was a lad (yes, there was a time... ), him and two friends answered a blind beggar (this was back in South Africa) in Portuguese and German. The beggar swore and said to his companion, "Die mense verstaan nie 'n f** wat ons sê nie!" = "These people can't understand a f*** word we're saying". A little while later, they saw the same guy walking with his cane tucked under his arm and dark glasses on his head.

Which reminds me of one of my earlier beggar experiences here. I was on the bus (where else?) when a very old man struggled on board. Everyone got up to help him as he went by. We were surprised he was on his feet at all. The crutch he was using was little use with the movement of the bus. He told his story and virtually had us reduced to tears. I sympathised... old age here is bad, especially for those who don't have children or who's family don't care. They have little to help them and often end up on the streets. Purses were emptied for this old man. He was assisted on his journey through the bus. People were blessing him as he went by. At last, he was helped off the bus....

This old man had hardly hit ground when he tucked his crutch under his arm, straightened up and literally danced away! Cries of (forgive the language) "Filha da puta" and various others I wasn't familiar with went up, then we all cracked up laughing. You had to admire his spirit. That man was well paid for his acting ability that day. I laugh now. My donation went towards a show loaded with talent. Why he doesn't get spotted by a talent scout, I don't know.

But that is why I don't give to beggars here. They're all so damn talented!

L'Occitane

Let me start by saying that if ever you want to really spoil yourself or you're needing to feel pampered or if you want to give the lady (or man) in your life the treat of a lifetime, book into L'Occitane. Thank you, Anne, for this very thoughtful gift. You knew how I would feel about it, didn't you?

The smiling and ever-helpful staff greeted me at the entrance. I filled in the forms, where I was asked my aroma preference and whether I liked firm or gentle massage, and was ushered upstairs. The room was softly candle-lit and delicately scented, hinting at the herbal oils they use. The couch was one I would dearly love to have taken home. I will post a photo. Unfortunately, my trusty camera couldn't accompany me through this experience, but I managed to capture this room. I sank into the chair and would have been content if that was the only experience of the day. I wasn't there long. Carini returned to take me to the dressing room where I changed into a bikini they supplied (good thing too, as I wouldn't own one in this lifetime) and robe. I locked my own clothes away and was ushered into bath paradise.

Here, my body was exfoliated with a heavenly smelling lotion containing walnut. My eyes kept straying to the bath, a free-standing, antique-looking bath, filled to the brim with steaming bubbles and a few lavender sprigs resting on top. I had asked for lavender as my aroma for the day. My whole body sighed as I sank into those bubbles. I lay there thinking of everything and nothing for 20 minutes. Heaven topped by a cup of peach tea.

Back out the bath, I was given a mud pack. Some greenish looking gloop... freaky! She then wrapped me in plastic and covered me with layers of thick fluffy towels. The experience was strange, but not unpleasant. The shower that followed more than made up for it. Lovely soaps, gels, shampoo and conditioner left me feeling fresh. The shower had an 8" head, which gushed water at just the right temperature, massaging me from head to toe.

I changed bikini's and was introduced to Nigrini, charming and professional, with hands that worked magic. He was the masseur. From my scalp down to my toes, every muscle was kneaded into total relaxation. Joints were stretched and limbs were flexed. I was then offered another cup of tea. I think I need to get some of that tea. It was by far the best peach tea I've tasted to date.

Ready for lunch, I change and went downstairs. I had a glass of merlot with duck and later, chocolate mousse, all of which had French names I can't, for the life of me, remember.

Back upstairs, I was greeted by Alessandra for my facial. As she ushered me in, she went on about how I must be feeling so relaxed and how I'm welcome to sleep any time. In the next 20 minutes or so, I found out about her, her children, where she lived and her job. She then wrapped my face up like a mummy with gauze, plastered some goo over it and left me to 'sleep'. A while later, she tiptoed back into the room to check on me, then left again. Returning later, she gave me a Portuguese version of "Rise and shine!" and was shocked that I never fell asleep. "But you said nothing when I came in earlier", she said. That is a bit like the dentist asking you if it hurts when your mouth is immobilised by anesthetic. My mouth couldn't have moved if it wanted to!

My last visit was with Dora, a tiny lady with long, strong and highly flexible fingers. She was my reflexologist. She did the reflexology differently to the way I know it. We concentrate on the individual pressure points, then the overall massage, but, here, the overall massage 'hides' or disguises the pressure on the points. I had my 4th cup of peach tea with her and she snuck in some of those yummy cheese straws. She also presented me with my gift from L'Occitane.... a beautiful tin with 12 guest soaps.

So my day at the spa came to an end. I fetched my stuff from the locker to find 10 missed calls on the cell and Jorge wanting to know 'where the heck are you??'. He'd apparently been waiting for me since 4pm and it was then 5pm. We knew it was 6 hours at the spa, but we hadn't accounted for the lunch hour, which was part of the whole deal. I was a little frustrated at having to rush out instead of being relaxed. Talk about an instant crash to earth. Jorge was frustrated because we still had to go home, fetch a bag, go to dinner and make it to the motel. Ah well.... these things happen...

Brazilian Motel

For a long time now, I've wanted to see one of the local motels. To me, a motel has always been a place, often seedy, that you overnight in on a long journey, simply a convenience. This was definitely different.

The place we went to was called Opium. Its midrange. They range from extremely expensive to rather cheap. Our room had dining area, bed (naturally lol), shower in the main bathroom, shower in the sauna room, jacuzzi, deck chairs and an automatic, retractable sun roof. Each 'room' is complete with private garage and entrance, bedroom area and jacuzzi area. The dining area, bed and main bathroom is downstairs, just above the private garage. Um... they have mirrors on the ceiling too. I didn't like that one little bit... looking at my face in the vanity mirror is bad enough. There was a stereo system and tv downstairs and upstairs in the jacuzzi area and a frigobar (bar fridge) stocked with all kinds of drinks. Upstairs is the sauna room and another shower next to the jacuzzi. The whole of the top floor is covered by the automatic sun roof. We opened it and had sat in the jacuzzi gazing at the moon and clouds... no stars to see.

Motels here are an industry in themselves. They're super-snazzy and designed around the more carnal pleasures. Everything is spotlessly clean and working smoothly. Here, its a common way of celebrating birthdays, anniversaries or any other occasion between couples. You hire the room for a 3 hour, 6 hour or 12 hour period. If you go to the motel guide (like a yellow pages for motels), you'll get an idea of the kind of industry. Everything is super-discrete. We ordered coffee and orange juice that morning. It was put into a hatch in the wall from a closed off passage (no contact with room service at all). We then opened the hatch when the bell was rung and took our goodies out. There is no normal reception. Its drive through check-in and out. The whole place is surrounded by high walls - you see nothing of the motel from the outside.... only the gate.
Opium photos

Definitely goes down as one of my more 'interesting' experiences in Brazil. Did you know they even have a motel for dogs??! You book your pooch and poochess in, so they can discover love all over again in a doggy heaven. Weird! Read about it here and here.

L'Occitane and luxury

*original blog written on 13 April 2006*

Yesterday was our wedding anniversary. 20 Years is a very long time in the grand scheme of things. It was a happy/sad day for me. This was the first anniversary in 16 years that I didn't have Tatiana with me. Our wedding anniversary has always been a family event. What's more, I was out all day with the cell phone off and Tatiana had tried to call me. I did manage to catch up with her later though, thank goodness.

First, we went to hire the car, then Jorge took me for my appointment at L'Occitane. Today, I used the gift Anne gave me for my birthday. Its been such a crazy time since then that this is truly the first opportunity. Anne, as always, chose the gift well. What a day! I walked into L'Occitane to the smells of so many herbs and oils. The staff was wonderful! Hm... you know what.. I think I'm going to write a separate blog just for the L'Occitane experience and another for the experiences which followed or this will get way too long. Jorge is already saying my blogs are way too long.

After L'Occitane, we went to dinner at Bovinas Churrascaria (sp). Again, excellent service and the food was good. The salads and hot dishes were self-service and the well-trained waiters come around periodically with different portions of meat. For a very reasonable price, you can eat as much meat as you like.

Then we went off to the Motel. For those who know, its a typical Brazilian motel, but more on that in its own blog. haha!

All in all, it was a lovely day. 2 Years to 20 years... I think we proved them wrong, right Jorge?