Emily Makes Bolo De Rolo

The other day Mark and I discussed which foods we would miss most from great northeast of Brazil and our top choices included: green coconuts, the fiber free mangoes ironically imported from Florida, and most of all- bolo de rolo. Also known as guava cake, this ridiculously sweet dessert made of pastry dough and guava paste and rolled into a dainty spiral is a hallmark of Pernambucan cuisine. A small slice goes a long way, and a shot of bitter espresso pairs extremely well.  

I decided it was necessary to make my own, using this recipe, a task I ended up nearly regretting once I realized its nutritional value. Sugar overload or not, I wasn't about to be intimidated so I made it, photographed it, and convinced my dubious children to enjoy some with their lunch. Sadly, they weren't fans, citing it too sweet. I can't blame them. Spreading the dough and paste requires a steady hand to get the layers thin enough to roll it, and I don't have the motor skills or patience for that. I think I will leave this dessert to the experts. 

Step 1: Melt down the gelatinous guava paste,
but don't burn sugar or your fingers like I did.
Add water as needed to liquify, then drink a beer.

Step 2: Mix 1 cup butter, 1 cup sugar, 1 cup Brazilian mega fine flour and 5 eggs.
Step 3: Spread thinly and dump in oven for 5 minutes.
Or if you are me, leave the layer so thick it firms up after 30.
Step 4:  Spread the paste on baked dough and "roll."
Step 5: Repeat 2-4 until done with dough and paste.
Or stop when you discover hardened guava paste stuck in your hair.

What bolo de rolo should look like. 

What mine looked like.

Step 6: professionally arrange on plate for all to admire.
I'm pretty sure I'm the Celeste Barber of food.

Jim Dog

Dumb Dog.

Well he's not, really. Jim is quite smart actually, but this past week, Mark and I were very much convinced he was going to die. For two days he stopped doing anything and everything. No food, no walks, no licks. Nothing. Just laid on his bed, still as a statue unless we forced him to get up for a pee (refused) which just about did him in. It was very sudden too, so of course we thought the worst: metastatic cancer; heart disease; kidney failure. 

On day number three I all but carried him to the vet and tried to explain his symptoms without feeling like a paranoid pet person: his lack of appetite, weakness, lethargy. I asked about his random skin conditions feeling particularly timid and vain: were they related to his illness? Or were they just old man skin growths? For a minute, my vet considered the grape sized groin bulge to be an extra testicle before changing his mind and diagnosing it as a fat deposit. But no, he said laughing, his skin was aging like an "idoso" (old man) and not to worry.

A stat blood test showed that Jim had low platelets, vital to clotting blood: his number read 54, where a normal range sits between 200,000-500,000 platelets per microliter of blood. The vet said this indicated he'd been exposed to some sort of tick disease, likely from a romp on the beach where apparently ticks and other blood suckers are rampant. I never walk him on the beach due to the fact that he hates baths and I hate giving them. Since there is no bath tub in our apartment, I have to get in the shower with the dog and bully him into the spray. Trying to rinse his belly and undercarriage is always slow and awkward. Plus I always feel weird about taking a shower with my dog. Should I put on a swimsuit or get naked? Should I suck it up and buy him a tub? Regardless of what I wear or do, I end up with a horribly soaked bathroom, smelling like wet dog, and bloated with histamine. Plus the dog is only 1/2 clean and still coated in suds.

So I pay the dog parlor to do it every 4 months. When I do, I let Jim free on the beach to roll in the sand before he goes. Not two weeks ago we repeated this routine which may have been when he got exposed. (Never mind that in early May he'd received a clean bill of health with annual vet grade anti-parasite medications, blood work and restock of topical medicine.)

Two hours, two negative SNAP 4Dx tests (this rapid diagnostic test looks for heart worm and 3 common tick infections. The package needs to defrost for 30 minutes and the first one was contaminated by the doctor's sleeve) and two antibiotic injections later, we were sent home with more meds, supplements, and directions to come back with full report in 2 days. As I write this, 48 hours have passed and Jim is nearly back to his old self. What a relief, and I'm so glad it was a quick fix. Now we just have to get him ready to fly to our next post by spending hundreds of dollars on a bigger dog kennel and a few thousand more to get him to Namibia. No big deal, right? Ah, pets.

Word to the wise: after hours of unfruitful research, visits, and phone calls to vets, pet stores, and pet hotels, we learned that Recife does not have IATA approved dog kennels available. Due to different airlines having different rules, and complicated Brazilian pet export obligations, we learned the kennel that got Jim here is not a sufficient size to get him out. Our new kennel will come from Sao Paolo and we are paying a pretty penny to get it. What one could buy for 120 USD on Amazon, will be about 350 USD in Brazil but it's also too big to arrive by mail. All the same if you are posted to Brazil and there's the possibility you need do a size upgrade, consider this dilemma when transporting your pet. Maybe you could bribe a family member to bring one on their visit, or promise a colleague a fancy bottle of gin or something? 

Jim, the 60 pound lanky beast.

Ballet in Recife

Man I was terrible at ballet, but I loved all 3 months of it- even when I bought a leotard that fit like sausage casing. I learned about the history of ballet, deeply rooted in art, royalty, and politics. I made friends and laughed at myself. I may have even learned a few dance moves and French words too. Will this hobby continue onto the next continent? Good question. I'd like to find out too!

Beginning bar work.

Recife's famous Fatima Freitas in the middle.

Floor work.

Bending over work.

Unison work.

Fifth position work.

Team work. Wah-wah!
Photos- work of my sweet friend
Maria Joao Vaz

Last day in Cusco: Shiny babies, soup, chocolate and acrylic paint

I don't think we could have planned this any better. All the boys opted to relax at home while Margo and I spent the morning walking down to the Plaza. Originally, I planned to take her to a chocolate museum, but when she specifically asked me to visit a church instead of eating chocolate, I had to oblige. The two of us went to the Society of Jesus Church to admire the "shiny babies" (according to Margo) perched on the shoulders of saints and their spectacular gold display at the pulpit. We made our way out with enough time to visit the chocolate museum's gift shop for a few souvenirs and to pick up the boys for lunch at Mister Soup.

For the afternoon I made reservations for the five of us to do a wine & painting & chocolate session with a company called Faces of Cusco. It's similar to those foofy classes where you drink a bunch of wine while painting on canvas. Don't get me wrong, I love those events. However this event was way better for a few reasons:

1. it required very little energy, which the boys needed after steamrolling their psycho butts up Rainbow Mountain in 2 hours instead of three. 

2. it involved drinking + kids which meant we could all stick together. The hostess was patient and enthusiastic with our various ages and abilities, so it wasn't stressful.

3. we had unlimited access to chocolate in liquid, solid, and cookie form, plus unlimited items to paint, plus a ready supply of tasty beer and wine. 

4. we were doing it in Cusco while on vacation which made it feel exotic and chic. 

5. the kids didn't complain once. They were so into their creations, eating chocolate and painting masterpieces they even forgot to fight each other.

It was a perfect way wind down to our trip. Maybe it was a teeny bit pricey at $45/person, but considering the top notch customer service we received (even before Peru when were planning the trip) and the "make yourself at home" atmosphere, I was more than happy to pay. Plus when Deets' painted pots and bulls sell for thousands of dollars, I know it really will have been worth it. 

Kids Center, Ice Cream and Religious Icons in Cusco

Knowing that hiking Rainbow Mountain would require some post-recovery, I let the kids make every decision the following day. Mark had found a "The Chiquity Center" that promised arts and crafts, fossil digging, trampolines, and a vast collection of skewered bugs to enjoy, so promptly at 9am we meandered down to the plaza to find it. The usual crowd of tourists, hikers and vendors filled the streets, but there were also several marching bands and a mess of men getting ready to carry large, well adorned religious icons perched on planks of wood through the streets. Color and noise were everywhere, a promising start for the day. 

This distracted the kids only in the slightest, so onward we went to have some real kid fun where about 4.50 USD equalled unlimited play. They did just that while I flopped onto a bench trying to re-forget a long forgotten scent of old diaper the hung in the air. Other than that, the place teemed with energy and mischief- especially when a birthday party arrived to take over. Only these 8 year olds were no match for Margo and Deets who kept trying to interact with them. One kid would jump on the trampoline, one of mine would follow. One would start a dance party, but would give up when one of mine would join. Obviously this became a game of cat and mouse and was only interrupted when Margo asked if we could get some ice cream. Stifling a yawn for the millionth time and ignoring my creaky knees, I got up after watching them play for over 3 hours. The lunch decision had been made. 

Interestingly, the place we ended up going to didn't have ice cream per se, but milkshakes, which according to Deets doesn't count. But all was well in the world with full bellies and a large collection of children's books that needed to be read. We sat at the cafe, reading odd-end donated books before retreating back to the house for a nap. Margo and Deets passed out, but sleep eluded me when I heard the rumblings of marching bands and men carrying giant icons came up the street. At 3pm in the afternoon, the streets were crowded and full of well wishing beer drinkers who followed the parade up the mountain to the Church of San Cristobal. In their wake were hundreds of discarded soup bowls, beer bottles, plasticware, and happy stray dogs taking full advantage. I felt so disappointed to see the trash, but the sanitation workers (consisting mostly of women) made quick order of it all. 

Per their request, I took the kids to pick out yogurts and cereal to eat while we waited for Mark and Josh to come home. Imagine my surprise when these dudes came home absolutely ravenous to eat Italian food instead of passing out like I did. We headed back down to La Bodega for some well reviewed pizza, pasta and beer. Only one more day left in Cusco...

Digging into the icy, rock hard dirt.

Margo's drum circle.

Examining his fossil finds.

Taking over the dance floor.

Practicing with a icon-less table...

...to eventually carrying the real thing.

Beach Jesus with potato offerings.

And Circus Boy.

Taking a break.

Hiking Vinicunca (Rainbow Mountain)

In the wee hours of the morning, I paced the floor waiting for the van to pick me up. Already wearing four of my five layers of clothing I had horrendous thoughts of my body freezing to the core while hiking Rainbow Mountain. The cold, I reasoned, was more because I was anxious and sleepless. Surely the van ride would be toasty. They picked me up first and the van arrived to two other hotels in pitch black. I closed my eyes willing myself to sleep since this drive would be about 3.5 hours, and there would be nothing to see. Except that I couldn't. I was too cold and too jittery, drifting in and out of icky sleep haze. Around 4am the van crashed to a halt after a rear tire went flat. A moment of stillness was followed by a deep breath and the hasty application of a headlamp as the driver and guides climbed out to change out the tire. Hearing the struggle of the battery powered air pump, I hoped they worked their magic, and fifteen minutes later with a few false starts the van lumbered on.

The break of dawn meant I could visualize the dirt road as we clambered through the Andes. I almost wished I hadn't, with a plunging ravine on one side and towering claustrophobic mountain on the other. And with summer construction coming to an end, the multiple bridges that would carry us across creek beds consisted of lashed planks of wood. The driver had to aim very carefully and at other times had to detour up the mountain side to get across. No worse for wear, we arrived to the trailhead around 6:00am with demands to use the three free standing bathrooms and promises of hot breakfast at a house down the hill. No electricity, no heat, no running water- but no matter, the people living here are well suited to the environment. Most of the locals wear sandals for crying out loud! They prepared a tasty and simple meal to set us on the right foot: flatbread and jam, plantains, scrambled eggs and tea. By this time I had already re-applied every single item of clothing and even resorted to turning a pair of extra socks into leg warmers.

The sun has magical properties, this I am certain. I understood why people used to worship the sun the moment the sun peeked over the crest, highlighting the 21,000+ foot snowcapped mountain named Ausangate. Though still cold, I became a new woman, feeling pretty awesome among the hundreds of alpacas resting by the houses. A few courtesies were exchanged between the alpacas and myself and up we went. Almost immediately I was huffing and puffing, but happy to be hiking at 7:00am along the fresh water stream, past the first mess of rocks and steepness. The hike ought to take 3 hours to summit and 2 to get down. By this time I wondered what the kids, Mark and Josh were doing, but I didn't have time to dwell because I needed to focus. Our guide told us explicitly that falling down wasn't allowed. I thought for me that was a tall order, but I was determined to make it.

Hiking through the valley at our first respite of level ground, farmers,  and horses passed us on their way down, cheerful in the morning sun. We saw herds of alpacas across the river and even on the ridges way above us. Our guide mentioned something about mountain lions being a problem up here which I found surprising. The many dogs along the trail were the solution to protecting the farmer's stocks. They also made great hiking company, more so than the token horse named Poncho Rojo who hiked with us (someone in our group rented the horse to ride when she got tired) He made a big crabby deal out of my taking his picture and probably would have flipped me off if he had fingers. So I steered clear of him altogether.

Every so often we would stop to regroup and rest. My resting heart rate sat at 100 and quickly jumped to 144 when I began hiking, so I was pleased that my heart wasn't going to explode. My lungs however were definitely working over time. Thank god for a long history of tortuously boring controlled breathing exercises I did as an aspiring musician a million years ago. I could recenter myself and keep going. My knees didn't like it, but I didn't care. Most of the way I had a children's Brazilian song about a girl named Mariana counting from 1-10 stuck in my head which drove me mad, and my singing caught the attention of one of the guides. His wife is Brazilian and they have a three year old daughter, a romantic tale that began in Lima a few years back.

The song was forgotten when I hiked up the final 100 yards where a stone enclave had been erected to direct hikers. Yes the view was great, but I still couldn't see the telltale idyllic bilateral slope of the mountain that all the tourist agencies displayed. This mountain was actually an extinct volcano and the rich elements within the earth give the vivid stripes of reds, blues, greens and yellows. (Only two other mountains are known to have this unique characteristic: Hornocal mountain range outside a town called Humahuaca, Argentina; and in the Zhangye Danxia Landform Geological Park in Gansu, China.) In order to get that view, I had a few hundred more feet to climb beyond the walls. To the left I climbed onto dusty, crumbling white trail where the pieces all fell into place at 16,490 feet. The 365 degree view of the area was perfect: Ausangate behind me, endless red and fierce mountains to my right, Vinicunca (Rainbow Mountain) in front, and the steep valley from which we came to the left. I enjoyed my moments of solitude and photo taking before the crowd of "late arrivals" swarmed up to bask in their own victory.

As all good things must come to an end, we regathered and hiked back down. I didn't enjoy this one bit with my knees screaming and toes red hot in my hiking boots. The good news was I saw things I hadn't noticed on the way up. Like the psoriasis-like plaques of vivid green lichen growing on volcanic rocks rising from within the mountain; the groups of farmers sunning themselves among their herds; the hundreds fuzzy black and orange caterpillars racing across the trails. The place had its own definite sweetness. And harshness. 

At last I arrived to the house where we ate breakfast. Lunch was being prepared, so the group splayed themselves out in the dry grass for final relaxation, because we'd soon realize our meal was a whole other sort of exercise: soup, garlic bread, grilled chicken breast, noodles, vegetables, white rice, spaghetti pie and a last round of tea. All that food went in my belly, and then it was time to head back along the winding dirt roads leading to Cusco. Exhausted, I managed a shower before collapsing into bed, with a grin on my face knowing Mark and Josh would get to do this adventure the following day. 

Morning primping rooms. 

Alpacas of the morning.

Beginning the hike.
Photo by Mark

Along the valley.

She's wearing sandals people.

Keeping to the left. 

Best bathroom view ever.

Trail leading to the saddle of Rainbow Mountain.

At the top!

Rainbow Mountain!

Rainbow Mountain Slopes.

Credit: Mark, who ventured a bit further with his guide
the following day.

16,490! Yes- that is Zinka on my face. 
Yes- I convinced my group to wear it.

Hauling packs of Coke to sell at the summit.
Ausangate Peak to the right (21,000 feet)

Summit getting crowded;
on the way down. 

The manes are cut short to prevent
cold weather damage.

House on the right: where we ate lunch.
Ausangate in background.

Taking a load off.

Reaping the rewards of not moving.