I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello - São Paulo

Warning: Sentimental post. All ITA graduates and sang-froids may want to give this one a pass.

I hate goodbyes. Even "so longs" are tough. I do my very best to avoid them and carefully did not arrange any goodbye parties here (though I did get surprised by one, and arranged a second small dinner with the "Fab 5"--don't ask).

I'm on my way back home--twenty-five years after leaving New England, I am heading back. My new blog is live and should be in action shortly--it's all about finding out that repatriation is harder than ex-patriation. Or so everyone tells me.

I think I have explained in other blog posts that I am not leaving Brazil, but rather going to the USA. Why am I going? Not because of security worries, exchange rate problems or even the absolute horror of the thought of four more years of Dilma Rousseff. No. I am going for my kids. My kids are half-Brazilian and half-American. They are seven years old. We have lived here six years which means they have no idea what it means to be American. They can sing the Brazilian anthem; they don't know one word of the American. I want them to ride a yellow bus; I want them to be in public school. I want them to know that the USA is more than a Target store and Disney World.

By no means do I think that the US is all right about everything and everything is better there. No, there are many things I will miss about Brazil and the recent days have made that conviction even more acute. The absolute warmth, humor and generosity of Brazil--as a country and as a people, well, they are unparalleled. I will truly, madly, deeply miss a number of friends here and their capability to make me laugh until I cry. I can only hope that we can carry the humor and love through skype and emails. We must. We have to.

The Alemão

This weekend we said goodbye to the Casa do Alemão, the German house, that we have rented for the last couple of years. It is the closest thing on Earth to paradise, in my opinion. If paradise has giant venomous spiders and cackling monkeys, that is (in the 7 year old twins' minds that is obvious). And though the leaving makes me sad, it also made me smile today.

The view from the Alemão. Which never changes.

As I walked through the remnants of a trail we had cut two years ago for the twins to find some pinhão (pine "berries" from the araucaria trees--kind of like chestnuts. Delicious), I realized that Brazil was already adjusting to our departure. In fact, almost nothing remained of our trail but the memories. The trees and bushes had grown up through everything. Even the monkeys had wiped out the remains--all the pinhão had been eaten and the husks left in a silent mockery. 

Life goes on. The Alemão will have new residents. The spiders, and hawks and monkeys and hummingbirds will have new admirers. The woods and trees have permanent protectors in our friends Rob and Pri. The house and its property will be there when we visit again in December. The trail will be gone, and our personal effects from the house, but the exquisite beauty will still be there.

The new generation: Zoe, age 1 and 1/2

Cafu, age 12

Life, and death, go on. On Friday we spread the ashes of our 14-year old labrador Caju in the ranch's beautiful lake. From whence he came.... Caju was a puppy at the fazenda when the fazenda was itself new to our friends. And as the wind ruffled the fur of his now-forlorn and decrepit best friend, 12-year-old German shepherd Cafu, three other young dogs raced by to chase the horses. And so it goes.

I will miss you, Brazil, but I realized this weekend that I leave you not. I am taking you with me. Every time I kiss a tight-lipped Yankee on the cheek to say hello, I take you with me. Every time I save a fuzzy spider that gives me the creeps, I take you with me. And every time I feel the warm wind blow (perhaps rare in Boston), you are with me. Shall we go?


That's all she wrote.

++++++++++++

Closing the gate on this chapter.

 

 

Or is it?

:)

More Random Advice for Brazil Visitors - São Paulo

With just three weeks to go before the start of the World Cup, I began to think about how people who have never been here before are going to react to various places and occurrences.

I still remember setting foot here in Brazil for the first time—back in 1995 when I was working for Visa risk management. We visited Rio and São Paulo on a tour of banks that were facing large amounts of credit card fraud.  I don’t much remember the banks except for Bradesco and its so-called City of God, the enormous bank campus in Osasco.  It seemed bigger than my American college campus, and BH just told me that it is still growing. It was my first introduction to Brazilian coffee in its tiny cups. I didn’t realize how dangerous it was and every time the uniformed coffee lady came by the meeting room, I accepted another tiny shot. I ended up with blurred vision, a wildly-palpitating heart and a room full of very amused Brazilians.

I also remember moving here in 1998 just at the beginning of the telecom privatization. It is hard to believe but people here used to pay thousands of dollars for a phone line—they were listed as household assets.  I would not call cell phones cheap here now but they don’t cost more than cars either.  I fell in love with Brazil and my Brazilian and look where that’s got me (just kidding, BH!!)

During my first tour of duty here (1998-2001), my artist uncle visited me. He is the closest brother to my mom, though not in distance. He is the closest my family has to crazy-wonderful – he makes art out of found objects, out of Styrofoam, out of paint and mylar and whatever. I am fortunate to own a number of his pieces.  James had been invited here for an art show in Brasilia and stopped in for a few days in São Paulo. I will never forget his visit because of the beauty he saw and the beauty he shared. 

This is as close as you need to get to a favela. From wikipedia

What? Beauty in São Paulo, the mess of concrete, polluted rivers and pothole-marked roads? Yes. Beauty. As I drove him from the airport, my uncle exclaimed at the geometry of the brick, metal and laundry-hung favela shacks. He marveled at the hives of electric wires, the boxy 70s buildings, and the trees popping out of piles of rubbish, growing against all odds. And his comments made me feel good about where I lived, and made me look at it with new eyes. Eyes I forget to look out of sometimes when I am annoyed by the daily life of a big city.

Based on James’ lesson to me about how to see Brazil, here is how I would do Brazil if I were seeing it for the first time:

1.     Expect the unexpected. Or don’t expect it--just enjoy it happening.  Say you get stuck in a two-hour traffic jam. Look around. Don’t get on facebook and complain. Look around at the geometry of that favela, the lady in the next car fixing her hair and ignoring the kids climbing over the back seat. Watch the water rush out of the many creeks and into the river. When the unexpected happens, take advantage, not offense. And if someone starts talking to you at the local bakery, participate. Be part of the country, don’t just visit it.

2.     Be positive. Brazilians will complain about their country. A lot.  My  recommendation is to not jump on that band wagon. It turns out that this will cause offense: while people from here may say “the river is filled with garbage”, they don’t necessarily want the tourists to agree with them. They want someone to say back “well, the trees on the edge seem to like it—I noticed how many flowering trees were there.”  Trust me, this is true. I have been here 6 years and I still sometimes step in the wrong place and people say “if you don’t like it, why don’t you leave?” 

    And please be careful of politics if you are American—the US, at the very least, does not have a sweet-smelling past here.  You may think they want you to agree with their complaints about corruption, or Dilma or whatever, but then you might find yourself on the receiving end of what the CIA did here during the military dictatorship. My advice: smile and say “s*** happens everywhere.”  Especially if you don't know what kind of democracy Brazil has or how justice works here. Listen, smile, and ask questions rather than say statements. Keep those ears open and learn. 

3.     Brazil is more expensive than you think. The pervasive thought about the developing world is that it is cheap. Yes, your dollar and euro is valuable right now but it still will be fighting against an immensely overpriced restaurant industry (São Paulo and Rio), the tax structure of imported goods, and of course the inflation that accompanies the mega event. I suggest keeping it to yourself if you find something very expensive…or very cheap. Unless you are negotiating for a US$500 hammock. Then that is VERY EXPENSIVE and you should complain.  PS You are not necessarily being taken advantage of at every moment. Brazilians pay for stuff through the teeth.

4.     Tip everyone. Okay, maybe not your friends you are visiting. I remember talking about this with a Brazilian friend a couple of years ago. Someone asked if you are supposed to tip the gas station guy for checking the tires or the oil. My Brazilian friend was almost offended—‘of course not! That is part of the service!’ But I always tip. I always go to the same gas station where I have known the attendants for 6 years and I always give them a $2 or a $5 for those services. And I get great service, usually a fun conversation and people who know my car.  I also tip at the grocery store (not necessary), the taxi cab (not necessary and not always—just if the guy has put up with evil twins on a bad day), the waiter who has made my day. It works for me. And it’s not exactly breaking the bank.

5.     If you are going to use your high school Spanish to get by here, make sure you let people know that you realize that Brazil speaks Portuguese not Spanish. Also our capital is Brasilia not Buenos Aires or Rio de Janeiro. Personally I would highly recommend a quick peruse of Wikipedia to know our population, our president’s name, the size of the economy, and the name of our most famous soccer player (it is not Maradona). Hint: the latter played for the NY Cosmos but is not in fact American as I thought when I was 7 years old.

6.     Skip the favela tour. I hate the favela tour. Why in the world would you do it? They are not animals in cages.

7.     Laugh. As much as you can. Smile at people in the street and say “bom dia” or “boa tarde.” Shrug and let things rolls off you. Let Brazil into your heart.

My two cents. Call it my tip to you.

Loving and leaving - São Paulo

Today I went to a meeting of what I call the "gringalhada" (a large group of gringas) also known as the newcomers club here in São Paulo. Yes, it is hard to call myself a newcomer after 6 years here but I am volunteering now as a board member, paying back the advice and help I've received here. It's a truly wonderful group of international people, including many Brazilians. The only requirements are speaking English and living in São Paulo.  Many of my best friends here came from this club.

In general, we are all positive about our lives here. Many of the women are long-time ex-patriate spouses. They are used to moving somewhere every 2-3 years and they find the positives about each place they are stationed. We have very few complainers and while all of us have our bad days with a foreign culture and language, we are all pretty happy to be here.

Today, however, one of the women I met was a repatriated Brazilian. She was clearly having a terrible time with her move back "home" which was no longer home to her. She hates it here. She says nothing has changed during her whole life and that people here are treated like garbage by their politicians  and that everyone has terrible manners, and the best place in the world is the United States. I did not ask her what her sample size was...if it is between Brazil and the US, you can hardly call one the best place in the world of two countries. 

I was shocked. And as long-time readers know, I have run into more and more Brazilians more pessimistic about their country and more cruel and more hopeless than the expatriates. Yes, one group knows they're leaving. The other may not be able to do so.

So, I wanted to make something very clear here on my blog. I love Brazil. I love the passion, the emotions, the proximity to nature (I mean REAL nature not a national park), the warmth of everyday meetings, the humor of the everyday man. And I love the banal: the weather (you really can't beat São Paulo weather), the food, the caipirinhas, the ability to hire household help for less than college tuition. 

As most of you know, I am moving to the US in July with my kids (and later BH will join). But I am not LEAVING Brazil, I am GOING TO the US. I am going because my kids are half American yet have only lived there up to 18 months old. I am going because I miss four seasons (she says until she meets Boston in February). I am going because I miss home. I am not going because I hate Brazil. I am not going because of security problems, FIFA World Cups or corruption or politics or an expensive life here. I am going because I want to go, not because I want to leave.

I admit that Brazil makes me sad some days. I try to keep the humor up here but there are days where I want to literally weep for this place. I don't see a way out of the entrenched corruption, the crappy politicians, the broken justice system, the terrible education and public health issues. I wish I did. I wish someone did. But I don't want Brazilians to give up and I really dislike meeting those who are giving up--leaving the country, complaining that nothing changes yet spend no effort in changing it. Your country is beautiful, rich in natural resources, filled with intelligent people and warm with a warmth that has nothing to do with the sun. And it's not just your country anymore. I'm married to it and have kids with it in their blood. It's in my soul.

I have less than a month of this daily blog to go. I will continue on a less-than-daily basis until it makes no more sense. Please know how much I love Brazil, as much as I laugh at the daily life or have my bad days where I want to leave immediately. I'm not a fighter. I'm a flighter. But I'm not leaving. I'm going. 

And I'll be back. I (heart) Brazil. I hope you do, too.

40 days - São Paulo

The sun going down on the São Paulo coast...and Brazil in My Eyes

As it says in my description somewhere, I started this blog on Mother's Day 2013. The plan was to have daily posts on my life in Brazil for one year. And every day, there has been a post--good posts and bad posts, but a daily post, yes.

Yesterday I realized that there are 40 days to go. Yesterday I also realized that I have four months to go in this country that has been my home for 6 years (9 total with three years here in 1998-2001). While I am looking forward to the next phase in life, I am filled with sadness and a sense of unfinished business here in Brazil. No, that does not mean I have another year left in me here (nice try, BH). It's time to go.

As I start to wind up operations here, my blog will probably fall off daily posts (after Mother's Day 2014). There is simply too much to do to sit in front of my computer every morning, selfishly spending time with me and my relationship with Brazil. I will still post, of course, because who can resist reporting on the upcoming World Cup? And the small steps that are turning into the big steps of departure.

I thank all of you who have come along for the ride. While I don't see many comments here on the blog, I see more on the facebook page, and people will send me separate email if they know me personally or tell me at a party how much they liked (or disagreed) with this or that post. In the end, most of what I say is fluff--I am not capable of political analysis of this place nor economic. I see what I see. 

Let's run hard these next 40 days, okay?  Come on along!

Our Finest Hour - São Paulo

Recently I was at an event that was attended by some of the super rich of Brazil. I, unfortunately, am not one of them but got to brush shoulders for a short while. Inevitably the conversation moved to the upcoming presidential election here and the World Cup. I don't understand enough about politics here to get too involved in the presidential discussion, and while I understand less that I should about international football, I am going to get involved in that discussion. Because it's about more than football.

The people I talked to at the event were all leaving for the month-long Cup (June-July). They were heading to Europe or the US or just elsewhere. Why? They said it would be a gigantic mess, dangerous with protests and a complete embarrassment for Brazil. By the way, others I know who are not super rich are also leaving during the Cup--but only because outgoing flights are cheap and school holidays will last 8 weeks in some cases. 

I am staying. Enthusiastically. I can't wait. I am going to dress in yellow and green for a whole month (except on days when Uruguay plays and then all bets are off--kidding, BH, kidding). I have no idea what goes on during the game--okay, I admit I am in training for the Cup studying  Falcao (oops, he has about a 50/50 chance of coming),  "gol de placa" and a large list of swear words. 

This morning I got a link from a NGO where I used to volunteer. In the clip, there is a TV journalist talking about how no Brazilian should volunteer for the World Cup. That it is a FIFA event, money is going not into the pockets of those who need it and that you'd have to be a clown to want to work there for free. 

And this is where I completely disagree. No, not with the point that FIFA is the organizer and that they come away with most of the money. My point is that now, at this moment, the World Cup is not FIFA's. It is Brazil's. It is Brazil's to win, both on the field and off. Brazil can win new fans of soccer and of this wonderful country. Or it can piss it away along with all of the money that was supposed to go to infrastructure projects.

The fact is that it is too late to say "we should never have gotten the Cup." I remember the announcement of it being in Brazil. The country celebrated. BH and I looked at each other and frowned. Did anyone really think that infrastructure (hospitals, schools, etc) would be built as promised? Really? No one here is that naive. Or that optimistic. But it's too late. It's coming in four months.

The fact is that it is too late to demonstrate about the money going to stadiums and not to the residents. That money is gone. And will be more gone soon as some of the stadium projects go into overtime and money is dumped into repairs (São Paulo), grass (Curitiba) and canvas airport terminals (Fortaleza). If I could counsel the protestors, I would say find a new way. Let's not accidentally kill more videographers like in Rio last week--that does not help the discussion. Let's not scare the tourists away.

The fact is we need some of this money back. That means we had better convince people from abroad to come to this Cup. I want them to spend weeks here. I want them to visit deserted beaches, national parks, city museums and restaurants. I want them to love Brazil. There is a lot to love. 

As I've said before, I fell in love with a country during a World Cup. I have been back to that country three times since then and spent lots of tourist money. I tell everyone to go there for wonderful people, food, adventures. That country is South Africa.

I also lived in the US during the World Cup there in 1994, and in San Francisco where the Brazilians were based. It is an indescribable event--so much intrigue, so much theatre, so much fun. For an American, we cannot grasp the emotions at play--the deep-rooted need to win.

I was here in Brazil during the 1998 Cup. I cannot tell any of you what it is like to be in a country that STOPS when its national team plays. It stops. São Paulo, population who knows but close to 15 million, stopped. Not a bus on the street. Not a person on the street. I could have laid down in the middle of Avenida Paulista and taken a nap--not one car. And then a goal and the place explodes with happiness.

So, I'm staying. I'm staying to support the athletes who have trained for years to be on this or that field (really hope Curitiba gets some grass for it). I do not promise to not call them babies when they grimace and roll on the ground when someone touches them (Italy, this means you). I do not promise to like Ronaldo or to cheer against Argentina (close your eyes, BH). But I promise to welcome all the tourists who come here and help them however I can.  I want people to love Brazil. And start a lifetime love affair that will bring them back again and again.

Does anyone remember the lines in Apollo 13 about success and failure? One of my favorite movies of all time (here is the link if the movie doesn't come up: http://youtu.be/eOkAyUmyQko.

We can choose: believe this could be our biggest disaster, or believe it will our finest hour. I know which one I choose.