A Sweaty Recife Halloween

To my extreme disappointment, I missed out on the consulate's Halloween festivities this year. My children had school Halloween parties scheduled at the same time, so I had to choose one. I figured I could rock out in a festive costume, fawn over the adorable children,  and maybe even meet some local moms. I even was assigned to bring juice! Unfortunately, I found out too late that the parties were only for children and thus found myself uninvited to a party I apparently was never invited to attend.  So when the time came to get ready for school, sighing in resignation, I dressed Deets up in his much anticipated costume and Margo in a party dress. Incidentally (and my apologies to Grandma Kaye and Grandpa Tom) Margo's costume, though listed to fit children ages 2-4 didn't quite fit her growing toddler body-  I squashed her into the pink taffeta dress, but instead of looking like a glowing princess, she looked like an sweaty encased sausage. A very unhappy sausage at that. 

Waiting outside for the school bus to pick up the kids, a perfect stranger sitting in his car saw Deets in his Dr. Who costume. Summoning him over to his car, I warily watched as he reached into his bag. I was curious to whether it would be candy or food- an occurrence that happened frequently in Romania but I hadn't experienced it here yet. Back then Deets would get anything from oranges to chocolate cake from bread to pork chops.  I figured this time would be something also food related, but no.  What else would the driver produce, but... a spiral notebook? An unused, hardback, lined notebook- not too shabby for a random, road side gift. I realized that the guy probably thought Deets was a professor for Halloween thus adding to his persona. For whatever reason, Deets was stoked and decided he'd use this notebook to specifically write his name and draw light sabers, sperm whales, and Daleks. Margo wasn't too pleased with the whole matter.

It got me thinking about the random things strangers have offered me and the family. Margo has been gifted cakes, ribbons and jewelry. On multiple occasions Mark received liquor often homemade, stored in water bottles or in little green bottles labeled with a cross. He got copious amounts of religious material and on one occasion received both at the same time in Bratislava. I have been given mostly benign items like pins or flowers, but once I was given two peeled hard boiled eggs from the pocketed sweatpants of a patient who came to the urology clinic I used to work at. How she didn't crush them on her lengthy metro ride into the city, I'll never know. 

In the end, after my lonely pity party I did some yoga and felt immensely better about my lack of pedagogical judgement. The kids came home exhilarated with copious amounts of candy, Play Doh, and books- and the prized possession of all time: vampire teeth. The two of them shoved those food crusted, spit soaked plastic fangs in our mouths with such joy, I had no choice but to revel in their happiness. It was a very good Halloween after all. 

Despite the heat, he was ALL about his 100% unbreathable polyester jacket.

At the newsstand practicing with their makeshift Sonic Screwdrivers.

The one notebook-two kid ratio is its own form of torture.
Thanks guy.

Top 10 of Samba Recife

Double your pleasure. Well... they actually had three stages

Two days, thirty bands, and God-knows-how-many cans of Schin Pilsner beer played part in one of Brazil's largest Samba Festivals. I dusted off my Danskos and jeans for a high class, sophisticated evening and checked it out for myself this weekend. The spectacle was exactly as they headlined it- their 10th year would be bigger than ever, calling for more dancing, singing, and sass. So I did just that and more- until the wee hours of 9:45pm. Because well, I'm 90. Here is why next time you are in Brazil, you should go to a Samba Festival:

10. Snacks in sacks abound! You can buy sacks of nuts. Or maybe a sack of quail eggs for quick energy.

9. Giant waist high beverage coolers all within five paces of anywhere. Need a sugar lime vodka drink? Schin beer? Juice? Don't mind if I do.

Ignore the Schin trash and focus on the Schin cooler.

8. Schin balls floating around everywhere. Fun to see and more fun to say. They even had orange Schin can characters looming the stage accompanied by orange clad Schin girls tossing out Schin t-shirts. Or bags of peanuts. I couldn't really tell. I was pretty far away.

Fascinating advertising- in fact most politicians for the upcoming election
have their faces all over balloons like these. 

7. Forget expansive band shirts, go for the glittery hot pink fedora instead. I really wanted to buy one. I should've.

6. Freshly made potato chips in a glass container big enough to take a bath in. 

5. You can dance all you want! Elbows and thumbs out and no one cares. 

4. Seriously. Everyone already dances better than you. Just own it. There's no reason not to. The tell tale triple step, booty shaking samba moves were almost in unison amongst the thousands of concert goers.

3. Double stages. Double. Fused to together with a red carpet runway enviable of Fashion Week. And 50,000 square meters of space.

2. Who cares if you have no idea what they are singing on stage! The infectious samba energy seeps into your bones. Plus loads of couples were making out- next to me, behind me, on the giant screens. That certainly meant the lyrics were awesome.

1. From dreadlocked heart-wrenching soloists, to skinny jeaned boy-band heartthrobs, to bigger than life guayabera'd samba kings, the variety of talent entertained the crowd all night long. It was inspiring and energizing to be small part of a bigger musical picture. I look forward to next year- only next time I might need a few extra shots of espresso and a few extra dance lessons. 

Hot fresh eggs and nuts.

The Quaintness of Hotel Living

I can't decide who entertains me more at my free Marriott breakfast buffet: leathery Maui Jim who took fifteen packets of cream cheese, the gal who ate four powdered doughnuts with her diet coke, or String Bean Jean who literally grabbed all the Styrofoam plates and stuffed them into her Walmart sack.

My life for the next few months feels suddenly transient as I am holed up in an extended stay hotel for the next few months.  I officially have become the old crotchety lady who complains about the stomping, slamming, and stumbling noises above me. I requested a move thinking ending up next door would be better than below, and the new digs aren't as green on the other side. Nads! Turns out I am up against disrespectful belligerent teenagers who clearly, are not happy to be stuck in close proximity with their equally pugnacious parents. For two more weeks...

Despite intense homesickness and the jolting, brazen politics slathering the Colorado front range, it's good to be back. How I've missed the perfect taste of milk, good beef, and the indulgent pre-washed, pre-cut sweet carrots! And my lovely family. I had no idea how much I've missed my big brother's stories, my sister-in-law's hugs, and my parent's utter delight to hang out with Deets. Yeah yeah, go ahead and gag.

Only in the U.S.
Effort free carrot enjoyment.

Tough guy.

When in Rome...

Grandpa and Grandma Schlink kicked us out of the house. Without a child or dog by our side, what were we going to do? "Rome, if you want to" was the general gag response, so Rome it was. Pretending Wizz Air was just a lovely social experiment for Romanians to assemble courteously onto a plane, we joined the crowds for a quick weekend of historic excitement, sweltering walks, and some token Schlink romance. The moment we hit the city, I was kicking myself for not having come here sooner. While I realize everyone and their mom has been to Rome, it still felt like we were uncovering incredible stories just waiting to be told. Rome is just that cool; even among the thousands of tourists that jaunt through the cobblestones, armpits to asses, you still feel alone!

I think we played our timeline well, thanks to a great NY Times article: http://travel.nytimes.com/2006/12/17/travel/17hours.html?pagewanted=all (we made 6 of his 11 suggestions) and added some extra excursions, not entirely on purpose either. We just kept finding cool things to see. I mean, there aren't too many places where you literally run into 1000 year old pillars and walls just hangin' around.

The best part of all: as the Roman stories unfolded, the historic men and women I imagined looked exactly like those camera-ready sexy folks from HBO's Rome. It was exciting and actually interesting to see where it all went down. There literally wasn't a thing I was disappointed in. (Well, maybe the broken AC unit we had to jimmy with a screwdriver at our hotel. The housekeepers were mortified a 22 week pregnant lady would desire her room to be less than 23C. Ha!)

Fountain of Trevi, 19 BC. STILL powered via aqueducts! 

Pantheon. It's just huge. 

 Galleria Borghese. Get tix ahead
(capped at 250 peeps) to see TONS Bernini sculpted
breasts, men with fruit, and merry Marys.

Randomly crave citrus? Just look around,
they are everywhere!

Have something to confess? The priest is: IN
Santa Maria Maggiore. The floor plan designed by
miraculous snowfall. No joke.

Basilica di Santa Maria delgi Angeli.
It's bigger on the inside.

Of course, the Colosseum. How could you not?

A funny thing happened on the way to the Forum.
But it was so hot, I forgot what it was.

Just some simple mosaic work, a mere 393 feet
up in the air. St. Peter's.

If you don't shell out the mere 5 Euros to hike up
St. Peter's, you're crazy. Totally worth
the sweat. And tears for some.

Everyone talks a big game of delicious food and wine to be had in Italy, but these two restaurants totally have their A-game in play. Both are Michelin/Zagat/Fodor's/Frommer's/NYT/ect reviewed for total awesomeness. Both are family owned, and both are worth making reservations. Highly recommended.