Holiday Roadside Cheer and Celebration

As fun time-limited assignment, a few weeks ago the kids' teachers gave me 1 day to find a specific cloth (pano de chão) that is wrapped around a broom and used clean floors- the preferred method over mopping. My first instinct was to give them dish rags, followed by old hospital-issue baby blankets, but my conscience got the best of me and I got to work. My Portuguese dictionary wasn't particularly helpful, Google Translate and Images helped a little but I ended up asking the class online Moms' Group just to be sure I wouldn't embarrass my children more than I already do. To my relief, a number moms had no idea what a "pano de chão" was or where to buy them either. 

At any rate, these cloths aren't often sold in stores. Instead, they are better found on the roadside, along with dish towels, fedoras, and other assorted goods sold to passersby. (I saw someone selling a coat rack once!) I remembered seeing one particular stop light that probably sold them. I headed out on foot one morning with the children and dog, dodging traffic, people and potholes to make my purchase. The cloths ended up being made into decorative sacks for Christmas, a cute project actually. 

So when last week the kids came home from school with orders to bring Santa hats for their last day before the holiday break it was a nice surprise considering I had nearly a whole week! I also laughed at this request knowing full well neither one of them would wear a hot and itchy hat without putting up a fight. (But then again, my daughter insists on wearing underwear on her head in public, so I never really know.) 

Of course, when I was faced with finding a Santa hat, I should have known it would be a venture to the roadside stands instead of the mall. But I hadn't spied anything on my walks, so I went to the mall where I got to experience a few things: the agony of persistent sales pitches, the luring of gobby soft serve and acai puree every 30 feet, and the screaming of adolescents working at a pet shop who discovered the gory cannibalism of hamsters. I will never look at a Habitrail again without seeing tiny guts spattered against the translucent plastic walls. All this fun- and no hats.

I suppose patience is a virtue because not one day later, a myriad of road side stands popped up ready to sell! sell! sell! The shops, side-by-side were all advertising shiny, red, polyester holiday cheer. Glittering in the hot sun, the selections and sizes were impressive. What I like best about these shops is that they also sell fireworks. All the highly flammable material we need to ring in the holidays right in one spot. I asked one of the vendors which products were the best sellers. Without missing a beat she told me she regularly sells out of the "Saint Peter Fireworks Combo Packs." I picked out the obligatory hats and marvelled at the adorableness of it all. "Here in Brazil," the woman told me, "they love this end-of-year celebration and that they do it well- just wait and see." Lucky (or maybe unlucky) for me, we will have front row seats to observe the magic she described as "pure joy and hope" on the beach for Christmas and New Years: fireworks, dancing, and drinking all night long.

"No smoking and no dropping fireworks close to the barraca."

Sao Pedro: he's #1

She recommended these sparklers for my children.
These fat suckers put my childhood sparklers to shame.

Knocked him down. Twice. 

The only red shirt I could find for Margo had was her Eric Cantona shirt.
I think that is a fabulous way to celebrate Christmas, personally. 

First Peek Olinda

View from Praca Da Se
121 feet above sea level

Whenever I chat with Recife locals, they always ask me the same questions: 1. How do you like living in Recife? 2. Have you been to Olinda? and 3. Why haven't you visited Olinda yet? They have a lot of admiration for the city, always quick to point out its spectacular ocean views, museums, art galleries, and historical churches. Deciding to ameliorate my guilt, we hopped into a taxi to check out the would-be capital of Pernambuco- had a war between Recife merchants and Olinda sugar financiers not broken out in the early 1700s. At the time sugar, a commodity once king of the Brazilian exports, suffered when West Indies competition blew them out of the water, stagnating Olinda's cash flow to the point of crisis. The growing economic and political differences between the two cities grew, along with piles of Olinda debt and dwindling Dutch power meant something had to give, resulting in war: the Guerra dos Mascates. In the end, Recife took over as the capital. 

I realized as we neared the hilly city (a whopping 6km from Recife) that I was in for a treat. Mark and I would get to hike up the cobble stoned roads to reach the top. I love an integrated workout/touring day- it makes the beer taste so much better. However, our cabbie wasn't inclined to listen and nearly killing his transmission along the way, drove up the steep hill in first gear. We hopped out and began to wander. Basically, everything was closed save for a few snack carts. Like we suspected, turns out most exhibits are closed on Mondays. On one hand, that was disappointing- I'd hoped Lonely Planet was wrong so I could visit the contemporary art museums and see about scratching the last few items off the Christmas list. On the other hand, we admired Olinda's colonial churches; many of which were built in the 1500s. We enjoyed the beautiful tropical landscape, the vivid graffiti and brightly painted walls that lined the winding streets. We laughed at American tourist group making hopeful comments that the pending rainstorm would alleviate the sticky heat. By this time at 10:30am, I already soaked through my clothes, leaving sweaty butt marks wherever I sat. I wondered what these folks would think when summer really arrives. I'm told when it does, the trade winds often dissipate leaving nothing but stagnant, chest heaving heat. Sounds amazing.

At any rate, we worked up an appetite and decided on one of the few open restaurants: a Pizzaria/Creperia knowing full well, no restaurant ever makes pizza midday. I mortified my husband by ordering fried cod balls, known as bacalhau. I think he barely held down his carrot-chicken-crepe as he watched me drown my delicious cod balls in vinegar, lemon juice and pepper. For someone who routinely avoids eating pickles just because her husband hates the smell of vinegar, I deserved this free pass since it was my birthday after all. Burning off lunch we hiked back up the hill for a second pass. We saw many signs in windows advertising for rental space specifically for Carnival. It's prime real estate and with little surprise- the stretches of road are barely wide enough for two cars and the sidewalks are broken, sometimes non-existent. A rental right in the heart of millions of people dancing shoulder to shoulder in the streets is the perfect way to enjoy what all the locals say is total madness, joy and celebration. Mark thinks I could hang with the crowds. In theory I love the idea it all, but let's be honest- I'm a bigger chicken than the 88.5" (27m) chicken that roams the Pernambuco streets for Carnival every year, aka O Galo Da Madrugada. I guess time will tell. 

Igreja da Conceição

Igreja da Misericordia

Background: Igreja de Sé

Igreja do Carmo

View of Recife

Igreja do Amparo

Praia de Sao Francisco

My Turn To Get Hacked

I suppose it was only a matter of time until someone invaded my email account: as the story goes, a piss ant hacker was pleading with my address book to send money to Cyprus for financial rescue. Come on. If you're going to hack my account, come up with a better story will ya? Maybe I should be thanking this individual, because it saved me from writing a scintillating blog post about cleaning rags in Brazil. At least for now. These past few days I was whining to Mark how I needed something funny to happen to me so I could find an excuse to write a blog post. I realize two things now: one, shame on me. I should be writing regardless of how tranquil and quiet my life may feel. Two, be careful what you ask for.

Once I got over the initial panic and annoyance of resetting all my passwords, I got really angry when I found out that this person created a Yahoo account with my full name to forward messages. The hacker also screwed with every single one of my contacts by inserting an extra "s" into the addresses. All this when my children were fighting, spilling food and generally making it clear they needed attention. Of course it was a recipe for disaster: when Margo is "unsupervised" she tends to antagonize her brother with hair pulling and chases him with toys she stole directly from him, while our pacifist Deets, screams like a teapot and cowers in her giant toddler shadow. I felt like a pretty big slacker as I tossed both kids into bed for an extra long nap time so I could simultaneously stare down the computer and stress sweat all over our Drexel furniture. 

At the moment, it seems my account is back to its old self but I can't shake the paranoia that my information has sunk into the netherworld, ammunition for another day. I feel so naked! For now, I will consider myself lucky to have friends, family, and acquaintances who took the time to let me know their suspicions. The good news is, it was a good opportunity refresh my address book and make it look pretty again. I mean, if you are into that sort of thing.