The Road to My House

Though the last road to my house has no name, turn right at the burned out car and the dead horse. Well, they moved the horse or maybe it was just sleeping deeply.

Okay, so I no longer live in a really small apartment in Rio. Now I live in a very large, but mostly empty house. I like it. When we first went to check out the house, we drove for forever along narrow windy bumpy roads, but the last road to our house was atrocious. We still signed the lease.

Shortly after we returned from visiting family in the States, as in we were taking a cab from the airport, the last road to our house fell into the hands of a construction crew with a vision and a lot of large bulldozers. They took what was left of our sad little road and tore it to pieces. The pavement was mercilessly ripped up, phone poles bumped into (resulting in really annoying power outages), and whenever it rained the now plugged drainage was even more ineffective.

Have you ever cheered your car on as it floated through a giant puddle? This became a regular habit, we have always felt that when faced with a difficult situation such as a giant puddle, cars respond well to encouragement.

I regress. Did I mention this road work started in July? Coming home from work every day we would carefully watch for things like pipes left in the middle of the road, large trenches, a new uncovered unmarked manhole, or perhaps the road had been widened, but a stray telephone pole was still in the road. One day we saw a lone worker taking on a boulder the size of a house with a single jackhammer. The workers faithfully spread large amounts of dirt, brought in their trusty steam roller to pack it all down. Then, the next day the buses would careen along at high velocity pushing all of the dirt into rolling pitching washboards that would have inspired dirt bikers.

Before long, they poured in the sidewalks. And let me tell you, these sidewalks are magnificent. They are spacious and wide. Whole families could walk abreast on them. They are curbed in white with pink cement going down the middle and they are so smooth. Don't judge, you would become a sidewalk admirer if you had stubbed your toes, skirted very suspicious smelling puddles, and broken toenails on the creatively designed sidewalks of Rio. It is rotten being klutzy in a city of uneven sidewalks.

However, what was truly amazing during this six month (still uncompleted project) is that one area would be seemingly complete. Then, the next day we would drive home and the beautiful pink sidewalk would be in midst of a destructive jackhammering operation. The workers would build, cement, jack hammer, dig up... we watched it happen over and over again. One day it might be a forgotten drainage pipe, a new bus pullover lane, another a light pole being moved (usually out of the road, so I suppose that is a good thing). But for God's sake, why didn't they do these things before they laid in the final work?

I can only conclude this is a pay by the hour job or each morning the boss takes creative ideas from the workers and builds self-esteem by making their ideas a reality.

On Strength and Grace

When do we really show our true grit? Is it when we challenge ourselves to be more than we already are, or when we stay true to who we are?

A few years ago, life seemed to be finally falling into place. My husband and I had finally finished graduate school, convinced some one to hire us, and had began the momentous task of paying off the debt we accrued while being poor grad students. As friends began to buy houses, pop out kids, and invite us over for dinner instead of out to dinner, the restlessness set in.

Luckily, my husband was also feeling the pressure of the suburban status quo, so we moved to Brazil. Life isn't easy here. What should take an afternoon frequently turns into two months of sheer frustration. We can never seem to get ahead at work. It takes a really long time to make friends when you don't speak Portuguese and do not seem to have an aptitude for linguistics. But through it all, I recognize that we imposed our present challenges on ourselves. I like to think it makes life more interesting and I don't feel restless. However, I frequently find myself complaining about the challenges of living in another country...

I have a friend who has gone through so much in her life. Yet she puts on a brave smile and encourages those around her. She holds onto hope when the going gets tough. She has survived more in the last few years than many of us will deal with in our lifetimes. It makes me feel so petty to think about the things I consider hardships. I think this is what grace and strength looks like. You live the life you are passionate about living, be it suburban wonderland, an expat, a city-girl... and you live it with courage, grace, strength, and humor. Someday, I hope to look in the mirror and see a little bit more of my friend looking back.

As the Mudslides and Rain Continue...

The Brazilian government is talking about relocating the people in the slums...but where and how will they house them? The slums perched atop precarious hillsides around Rio are out of necessity,,,people trying to carve out a space to call their own. Is the government going to help provide affordable housing or are they just going to clear out the favelas and continue to let the poor fend for themselves?

Here is a quote from the Washington Post about the slums slammed by mudslides that were built on top of a dump that Jake and I found particularly powerful:

"Yes, it was a dump. But people are desperate to have a home anywhere," she said. "What else were they going to do? Where else were they supposed to go? This is our reality. They knew the risks, but when you have no money, you have no choice," she said.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/04/08/AR2010040800860_2.html?wprss=rss_world/wires

In many places in the U.S. the poor are out of sight and mind. We can skip the exit off of the highway to the "bad" neighborhood. Most of us have the wealth and power, and education to move, to relocate, to advocate for ourselves. The poor are a visual part of Rio...their houses climb the rainforest hillsides throughout the city. People daring to live where others refuse... risking safety and convenience for a spot to call their own. Don't we all desire as much?

I encourage you, to look around wherever you live. Ask questions. Think about where the poor are. What are their options? Most are working hard, trying to care for their families, put food on the table. Are we really so different?

Flooding in Rio

"Hey Jake, could you move the toaster oven onto the dining room table?"

"Sure hon, just a sec."

This little snippet of a conversation from last night amuses me still. The things that have become normal for us... our kitchen counter can only handle a dish drain and a cutting board. So normally the toaster oven lives on the stove unless we are cooking. If we are cooking we put it on the floor (don't worry our apartment is super clean). However, whenever it rains heavily, our laundry room floods because it has a large latticed brick section with no glass or way to block the rain. This in turn floods the kitchen. We're pretty used to it.

Last night I was grateful for the rain because it resulted in four good things. Our Portuguese tutor canceled, we love working with her but two hours of Portuguese on a Monday night is tiring and requires at least one coke. The rain was pouring down so we didn't have to walk the dogs since we are lucky enough to have dogs that hate the rain, though they will both willingly take showers. Go figure. Since we normally have Portuguese, we never bring home work on Mondays so there were hours of guilt free t.v. The best best best part of last night was that it was a cool 70f, I made homemade apple crisp and we topped it with vanilla ice cream. It was the perfect fall dessert.

This morning I was just getting ready for work when the call came. We have no school, our first "rain day" in our teaching careers. Throughout the last fourteen hours, more than three inches of rain have fallen. Streets have turned into rushing riverbeds. Roads are flooded, the beach is covered in water.

The streets and sidewalks are not constructed with the same regularity as in the U.S. One curb might be three inches high, another 6 inches high. Sidewalks are uneven and have random holes. The most treacherous spots are where the water pressure from below has popped a man hole cover. You can walk along and fall into one.

A part of me wants to go and explore. I have always been interested in weather and there is something about school being closed that brings out the kid in me, like wanting to go play in the snow. However, my enthusiasm is dampened and empathy awakened as I watch the news.

Last night, I slept in a safe air conditioned apartment. I was comfortable and dry. Sure, our apartment had flooded a little, but this is pretty standard for us by now. Unfortunate citizens of Rio were stranded in the cars over night. The only consoling thought I can think of for the residents of the favelas (slums) surrounding Rio is that they are on the hills, so hopefully most of the water will run off. I was shocked to learn that eight people have died because of the flooding in the last fourteen hours.

Weather has always been interesting to me, but my emotions conflict. I have the resources to provide for m family so this won't really affect me. There are many who are not in such a fortunate position. This link is for the BBC News account on the flooding in Rio: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/8605386.stm

Ups and Downs- Life in Another Country or Just Life

My brother cautioned me about the emotional roller coaster of living internationally. He said there are ups and downs and though they smooth out over time, they are always there. A lot of times I feel like I am chugging my way up to an up, but before I can actually get there I slide back down.

Tonight I miss my family and friends. A good shoulder to lean on or talk to about anything. I miss going out with the girls for happy hour at Unos, board games with friends or family dinner up at my parent's house. I have finally been able to admit to myself that it takes me a long time to make friends. I can be social and friendly with people, but the good friends, the ones who are really worth it are hard to come by.

Can I blame my down on living in another country tonight? Or are the ups and downs just part of everyone's life? If we are really honest with ourselves what is the daily mundane life like? I wish I was one of those people that could eat a pint of ice cream and feel better...

Brazilian Logic

As we zoomed up the hill to work the other morning, we began discussing how what was a two lane road on the weekends became a four lane road on the weekdays. Buses careen in and out of traffic, weaving with eye popping vehicular dexterity.

Motorcycles, fearlessly take on death as they pass on your right, driving in the gutter, or on the left playing chicken with the oncoming traffic. Even though I am a mere passenger, an observer of the absolute chaos of Brazilian driving, I always feel slightly relieved to get to work.

You know that successful feeling you have after making it to work on a really junky snowy day? Yup, same feeling every morning. Our Brazilian friend assured us that it was supposed to be four lanes. I asked why there weren't any lines... she thought maybe they had just forgot to paint them.

Driving home with the same friend we shocked her with the obscenities we shouted at a driver who almost smashed into us. We were in a left/go straight lane and he tried to turn left from the right lane. She informed us that he thought we were turning left. No #$%&! However, why is he making a left hand turn across traffic from the right lane? Why? Well, our friend thought he wanted to go left. Really? We are so glad she clarified that after he almost drove us into the canal.

Needless to say... I love Brazilians...but I have yet to see them drive with any sort of predictable pattern or walk in a straight line.

Relaxing in Rio

After weeks of blistering sweat dripping heat... it has cooled to around 80 degrees. It feels absolutely fantastic. Isn't it funny how quickly you adjust to temperature? Back in Colorado I would have found 80 degrees on the warm side, here it just feels pleasant. In fact, I haven't sweated all day and I have only felt the need to shower once.

We took the dogs for a walk along the beach road, which the city shuts down on Sundays. If often seems as if much of the city takes to road on Sundays, Children learn to ride bikes, roller blade, and skateboard as families stroll leisurely along enjoying one another's company. There is no proper side to walk if you are walking one direction, so we find ourselves weaving in and out of people as we meander along. Xuxa gets a lot attention from Brazilians, they seem enamored with her and it provides us one of our greatest opportunities to practice our Portuguese,

Later on we met up with friends and had a few beers at a beach kiosk on Ipanema beach. Life is good here in many ways. The beer is icy cold and a table at the beachside kiosk is yours for as long as you want it. Living in Rio has helped me to slow down and become a more patient person, to focus more on the moment. Seven months ago, I would have considered sitting around and chatting away an afternoon a slight waste. I always felt pressured to get work done or to go to sleep early so I could get up and work the next day. Life slows down with the heat, but maybe it is worth it...