Over the last eight weeks, the Schlinks have fallen into a comfortable routine mostly consisting of school, work, and beach. Deets started kindergarten and joined a soccer team. He's been tasked with reading and math homework nearly every night at an impressive pace of curricular expectation. Margo isn't far behind with twice weekly homework assignments such as learning how to tear pieces of paper, rolling them into balls and gluing them down; a development of fine motor skills for three year olds. Glue is probably her favorite thing at the moment. That, or lipstick. She and her brother both swim twice a week at school too. Last Friday I broke the news to David that his back ordered sunga (bikini brief swim suit) finally arrived and he'd be required to wear it from now on. His response: but it's so tiny! Sure is, kid.
I had a work trip to San Diego where I spent the week dealing with buckets of fake blood, asphyxiated babies, mass casualty situations, and meeting my nursey cohorts literally from all over the world. I filled up a notebook, agonized over my IV placement skills, and drank a ton of beer with old friends to soothe all that learning. When I got back, I got talked into joining a ballet class. While I have yet to purchase a tutu, I love the regiment and conformity of it all. All the women coif their hair in tight buns and present themselves in chest popping leotards. They couldn't be any nicer. It's not a class where we perform recitals which is a double bonus- sorry to disappoint those looking for a good laugh. I know I would if I saw me dance. I'm quite awkward.
Mark travelled a little too. He flew to Rio de Janeiro where he participated in what I can only imagine as nail biting, collaborative, show-and-tell work meetings. In classic Mark fashion, he trekked along the beaches, hiked Pão de Açucar, and blasted through the city on foot. In a downpour. He too, drank beer and ate fancy food with old and new friends. He continues to work his tail off and looking to the future, mostly about the big move to Namibia and fantasizing about grilling zebra meat.
Back in Recife and between the work trips, we rekindled our motivation to do the beach thing, heading out nearly every weekend to surf, boogie board, and/or snorkel. Most of our trips focused on Maracaìpe for the big waves. I'd hide under the umbrella and nag my children to put on more sunscreen to the point that Deets tried to avoid me altogether. Mark and Deets would fight waves or go boarding- heck even Margo tried it a few times. We'd wash out the taste of sea water with coconut water and beer, and do it all again the next weekend.
One weekend we decided to branch out and went to Serrambi, a swanky, isolated, and tranquil beach good for snorkeling. The catch: there are no services aside from the occasional ice cream vendor or the price gouging services at the Serrambi Beach Resort. Going rate to use their umbrellas: 100 Reais/person. Unprepared yet determined to have a good time, we endured the cloudless, breeze-less sky. While Mark snorkeled with the kids I wallowed in the disconcertingly warm water and pretended to love it. Margo exfoliated my hair with handfuls of sand while she waited her turn to snorkel. It was 100% my fault, but since I didn't jump onto the snorkeling train soon enough nor express my desire to leave, I morphed into an angry cur, yelling my indignation to anyone who'd listen. Good thing everyone else was also too hot and tired to pay me any attention.
I swore off beaches. Until the next weekend when I got talked into going back to Maracaìpe with some friends. So we returned with smiles and everything. Now this weekend has passed and we spent today at Porto de Galinhas, the most popular beach in the northeast. It's a huge touristy sandy spread one hour south of Recife, known for "piscinas naturais" (shallow pools good for snorkeling) and scuba diving. There's boat tours, dune buggy tours, vendors and curios available from the moment you make eye contact. You don't ever have to leave your chair. The busyness and milling of people has its own charm, and the collection of colorful sail boats add to the atmosphere of eternal optimistic paradise. I still need and want to spend more time in the town itself, which is a mixture of quirky, hippy, and tropical chic. Unfortunately our trip got cut short due to a down pour so we opted to drive home soaked and crusted in sand, but for the first time ever- not hot. Perhaps obviously I will return for a do over but with a proper camera and dry clothes in tow.
Despite not being a huge fan of the beach, I am glad we resumed taking advantage of the weekend day trips. So much so, that I've begun planning the next several weekends with enthusiasm: a return to Porto and uncharted territory north of the city: Maria Farinha. We will see. It breaks up the week, though I relish the monotony of homework and projects- it's like our kids are turning into real people.
I had a work trip to San Diego where I spent the week dealing with buckets of fake blood, asphyxiated babies, mass casualty situations, and meeting my nursey cohorts literally from all over the world. I filled up a notebook, agonized over my IV placement skills, and drank a ton of beer with old friends to soothe all that learning. When I got back, I got talked into joining a ballet class. While I have yet to purchase a tutu, I love the regiment and conformity of it all. All the women coif their hair in tight buns and present themselves in chest popping leotards. They couldn't be any nicer. It's not a class where we perform recitals which is a double bonus- sorry to disappoint those looking for a good laugh. I know I would if I saw me dance. I'm quite awkward.
Mark travelled a little too. He flew to Rio de Janeiro where he participated in what I can only imagine as nail biting, collaborative, show-and-tell work meetings. In classic Mark fashion, he trekked along the beaches, hiked Pão de Açucar, and blasted through the city on foot. In a downpour. He too, drank beer and ate fancy food with old and new friends. He continues to work his tail off and looking to the future, mostly about the big move to Namibia and fantasizing about grilling zebra meat.
Back in Recife and between the work trips, we rekindled our motivation to do the beach thing, heading out nearly every weekend to surf, boogie board, and/or snorkel. Most of our trips focused on Maracaìpe for the big waves. I'd hide under the umbrella and nag my children to put on more sunscreen to the point that Deets tried to avoid me altogether. Mark and Deets would fight waves or go boarding- heck even Margo tried it a few times. We'd wash out the taste of sea water with coconut water and beer, and do it all again the next weekend.
One weekend we decided to branch out and went to Serrambi, a swanky, isolated, and tranquil beach good for snorkeling. The catch: there are no services aside from the occasional ice cream vendor or the price gouging services at the Serrambi Beach Resort. Going rate to use their umbrellas: 100 Reais/person. Unprepared yet determined to have a good time, we endured the cloudless, breeze-less sky. While Mark snorkeled with the kids I wallowed in the disconcertingly warm water and pretended to love it. Margo exfoliated my hair with handfuls of sand while she waited her turn to snorkel. It was 100% my fault, but since I didn't jump onto the snorkeling train soon enough nor express my desire to leave, I morphed into an angry cur, yelling my indignation to anyone who'd listen. Good thing everyone else was also too hot and tired to pay me any attention.
I swore off beaches. Until the next weekend when I got talked into going back to Maracaìpe with some friends. So we returned with smiles and everything. Now this weekend has passed and we spent today at Porto de Galinhas, the most popular beach in the northeast. It's a huge touristy sandy spread one hour south of Recife, known for "piscinas naturais" (shallow pools good for snorkeling) and scuba diving. There's boat tours, dune buggy tours, vendors and curios available from the moment you make eye contact. You don't ever have to leave your chair. The busyness and milling of people has its own charm, and the collection of colorful sail boats add to the atmosphere of eternal optimistic paradise. I still need and want to spend more time in the town itself, which is a mixture of quirky, hippy, and tropical chic. Unfortunately our trip got cut short due to a down pour so we opted to drive home soaked and crusted in sand, but for the first time ever- not hot. Perhaps obviously I will return for a do over but with a proper camera and dry clothes in tow.
Despite not being a huge fan of the beach, I am glad we resumed taking advantage of the weekend day trips. So much so, that I've begun planning the next several weekends with enthusiasm: a return to Porto and uncharted territory north of the city: Maria Farinha. We will see. It breaks up the week, though I relish the monotony of homework and projects- it's like our kids are turning into real people.
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| Deets' new sunga. Yes- we feed this kid. |
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| A snapshot of nursing fun. For more: https://goo.gl/photos/RsTguagSK18rpDnX8 |
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| Zinka's awesomeness. Maracaipe Beach. |
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| Dancing. Sorta. Boa Viagem. |
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| Master of the boogie board. Maracaipe Beach |
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| Porto de Galinhas |
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| Porto de Galinhas |
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| Carting snorkel gear to the boats: Porto de Galinhas. |
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| Scuba tanks: Porto de Galinhas. |
