Blame the Easter Bunny

Inevitably, despite our belief that the Easter holiday crowds would not be traveling the roads on a early Saturday night, we were wrong. About 15km from our beds, the traffic slowed, the rain intensified and we inched along as the men from the neighboring slums slid between the cars and took opportunity to sell us popcorn and biscuits. We couldn't see ahead. What was it? An accident? A mudslide? An Easter bunny?

When the kid in the back seat started crying out of exhaustion, my husband began hopelessly thinking of an escape strategy, but as we approached the next exit, we noticed the cars were lining up out of the exit and into the highway, causing the backup for miles back. What the h***? I was half wishing for more drama, a semi transporting chickens turned over on the median or a parade of clowns to warrant our delay and to distract the crying kid, but no. Do you know where are those people were going?

THE MALL!

The mall? Yup, said my husband, people are going there to buy last-minute eggs for Easter. He wasn't kidding. I could hardly believe it. Can you imagine a major highway pile-up in Canada because there's a line-up out of Home Depot for last minute Christmas trees? I cursed the Easter Bunny as we passed the exit and regained normal highway speed.

Speaking of malls, they're all the rage it seems, especially here in Barra. But there's a twist. I thought that Brazilians would hit the mall on super hot days, you know, to cool off in an air-conditioned environment, but no, on 40C days, they go the beach. On the more bearable days, when I'm happy to be able to walk more than a block without sweating profusely, they go shopping, and complain that it's cold out. Right, okay.

I should mention, that regardless of the temperature, you have to be vigilant and aggressive if you see a parking spot as most malls vacillates between "super packed and don't bother".  In a Vancouver mall, you might have to remember where you parked your car by looking at signs like P1 or P2. Here the signs range from A1-1 to M1-50. Make sense? No? Oh, okay. Good luck.

Surely it's because imitation is the best form of flattery, that Brazilians have adapted this love of shopping malls and have even decorated some with famous American icons, but I beg to differ. I think that America has done better things than to invent car dependent super malls, and Brazilians should just stick to their love of everything French, build more museums, fountains, cafes with terraces and romantic places to kiss.

New York Shopping

10 Steps to Adapting to Brazilian Life

Oh sure, there is plenty of academic studies out there that explain the process to adapting to a new country and culture, but here is my unscientific view on how to successfully run with the Cariocas.

1.  The lightest, thinnest top you brought from home is way too thick; it's a sweater here. Buy clothing which is even lighter than what the natives wear; they wear jeans and sweatshirts when the temperature drops below 35C. Rediscover your body, show some skin, wear less, wear smaller, don't be shy, inevitably some Carioca will be wearing less than you.

2.  Forget how things are supposed to taste. Even simple food like carrots have a mustardy, spicier taste than back home, although carrots back there don't taste like much to be honest. Chocolate is an atrocity here,  a cardboard texture coated with a waxy film with a faintness of cocoa, it's a sad, sad thing. Tropical fruits, on the other hand, will blow your mind, especially the perfumy taste of papaya, guava and passion fruit.

3. Expectations of mundane every day household things should be thrown out the window and re-registered in the land of "weird & demented". Toasters now toast only the top part of your bread; simply rotate and retoast. There is no water pressure and you will be blown out of the shower and bang your head on the rusty shampoo holder if you don't hold on. As you pull the coffee pot out of the machine, the filter holder will pop out every time, no matter how careful you are, and the pot will drip no which way you pour, just swear and use a paper towel.

4. Talking about roads and traffic is a superfluous and wasteful activity. It's messed up. There is no solution. It's like trying to solve world hunger by planting a basil plant on your balcony. Don't be perturbed with an 8 lane highway that suddenly turns into a one lane street bordering someone living room window.  Don't be courteous to other drivers or pedestrians, this will only serve to confuse and anger everyone. Rush hour is not really a rush, it's more of a standstill, so always carry supplies such as water, snacks and toys, or better yet, stay home, don't offer to pick up or drop anyone off.

5. Take in and take advantage of what nature offers. Be in awe of the big waves, the craggy mountains, the white sand, the end-of-the-world-is-coming thunderstorms, the face-lift winds, the warm breezy nights, and the tangled sweaty jungles. 

6. Notice and participate in sharing the wealth. Appreciate all people who work no matter what they do, especially those who work outside or doing hot work like ironing and putting down tar.  Appreciate those who clean your clothes in a hot basement parking lot with a gang of thirsty mosquitoes, the babysitter who wakes at 5am and takes a 4 hour bus ride to take care of your kid so you can regain some sanity, the hotel workers that check your car, open the gate, watch you swim safely and change the lightbulbs in dark hallways.

7. Make friends with people who speak English, they will keep you sane on days when all the bank machines at the mall don't work and the parking guy only takes cash. A Brazilian friend won't commiserate with you about that, they're used to it.

8. Learn Portuguese. It's not Spanish and it's not sort of like German. There is no short cut. There is no excuse. Start before you leave home. Understanding and speaking Portuguese comfortably will dictate how profoundly you can immerse yourself into Brazilian culture and will enrich your experience tenfold.

9. Wait. Always expect to wait. Learn to live with it, if you can't enjoy it. Who knows if it's because it's hotter here, or the traffic is atrocious, but everything takes more time than expected.

10. Smile. You're in Rio after all. If you're stuck in traffic, pull over, there's bound to be place where you can have a stiff drink, jump in the ocean, eat a pile of bread or a chunk of cheese, or simply wait.

Still waiting on the office to be finished.

One Downward Dog Short of a Yoga Class

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I better write this all down while I'm still giggling. This morning I visited a gym near our place, a big chain gym kinda place hoping I could attend their yoga class to relax and get over my frustrations with pretty much everything happening or not happening here in Brazil.

Now, I'm not a yoga expert, but maybe it's because I come from Vancouver, a yoga mecca where you can't throw a loonie without hitting someone in yoga pants, that this Hatha Yoga class seemed a bit weird.

Upstairs, 50 people were powering though a spinning class while a very hot, muscular dj was yelling at them to keep going while downstairs, 5 ladies and I set up our mats in the Zen room. This an obvious first hint that yoga hasn't quite caught on yet, except... wait.... what's this I see? One lady is showing off her Lullulemon yoga bag to our instructor, a smiley guy with a soft voice, while I'm thinking, "Argghhh, Lullu is spreading like a disease!" Although, I think Lullulemon would have to make a much sexier line of gym wear to compete in the Brazilian market. About half the ladies there were wearing one piece lycra body suits with bare backs and very low decolletage. One elastic belt and headband away from the aerobic suits of the 80's, if you ask me.

An Enya tune started looping, and Smiley got his bells out. Okay, I've seen instructors start and finish the class with a soft ting of some Buddhist chimes, but he exuberantly called us in like cows coming in from the field for dinner. Okay. I guess class is starting.

So, to be honest I have no idea what a Hatha yoga class is supposed to contain, but 15 minutes in and I didn't recognize one yoga move; not one downward dog, not one child's pose, no cobra, warrior, nothing. Lots of arm waving, breathing as if we were snakes, some punching in the air while yelling loudly and spritzing of some unknown "essential oil" which I suspect was just air freshener. I started giggling. I couldn't stop. Forget relaxing and zoning out. Luckily the room was dark. 

Enya was still looping and we started doing exercises that suspiciously looked like your normal stuff you see on gym posters except we were holding yoga blocks in our hands. About 30 minutes into our hour long class, we ended up on the floor, and Smiley is telling us to relax. Already? We lay there for about 15 minutes listening to Enya going around and around mixed in with the faint sound of the bass pounding above us. Suddenly a hear a fast  "squeak, squeak, squeak." What is that? How can we relax now? Smiley was going around to each lady, energetically rubbing their backs with a squeaky massage tool with wooden balls. Pushing hard across their spines. Argh! Get away from me! No obrigado, I said when it was my turn.

We lay there for another 10 minutes and then Smiley took out his bells. Bing! Bing! Bing! Bing! Namaste- the end.  As I mentioned, I can't say for sure that it was a bad yoga class, and Smiley seemed really into teaching it and making it special with his bell and his spritzer, but I didn't feel stretched or relaxed; more amused and confused.

Build me a Cave, Honey!

Alright, I'm sure this does not apply only to Brazilian landlords, but I picture them in a posh pad somewhere, sitting on their cozy outdoor furniture with a cocktail having completely forgotten about their rental unit. Why would one spend time thinking about a storage unit or a dank, moldy garage filled with years of accumulated, old, "but it still works, if you shove it in a bit like this" stained furniture and household junk?

We were completely deflated, literally and figuratively after our last visit to the "Wonderful" condominium, of course having convinced ourselves that with a name like that our apartment hunting days in Barra would end! Wonderful, my partly tanned a**. Maybe it's just me, but if I was showing my place for rent, I might at least hide the stack of stained, moldy mattresses, and wipe up the crusty food on the stove.

So off to Parque Lage we go! This beautiful public park sits at the base of the Corcovado mountain on top of which Christ the Redeemer sits. (Corcovado means hunchback, a perfect name for this steep granite rock 2300 feet above sea level) Rich in history, this sixteenth century sugar mill first owned by a former governor of Rio Antonio Selema, exchanged hands over the centuries until 1920, when Henrique Lage purchased it, built a perfect replica of the a palazzo romano and reconstructed the landscaping.

In honor of his beloved Italian wife, an opera singer, he built caves and towers for her to sing without disruption as well as ponds, lakes and an aquarium to please her eyes. Now that's what I call a wedding present!
In the 30's and 40's the mansion became a venue for fancy parties for artists and performers, and later, and to this day, a school for visual arts. The morning of our visit, there was an art exhibition in the halls of the mansion while families lounged on flat cushions drinking juice along the edge of the interior pool, and an unusual amount of pregnant ladies were taking belly shots in front of the facade. What I wonderful way to forget my house hunting blues, visit someone's else's mansion!

I forgot to sing a little tune on the bridge to the tower...

Spelunking with the kid

Sitting by the pool

 In front of a painting

Posing for the camera

Brown Bidets in Barra

After 3 days of house hunting, it seems to boil down to these two options. The first option are older apartments which are 3 to 4 levels, often built in the 70's. They are mostly situated by the beach or in more walkable neighborhoods with shade trees and shops, but offer no amenities like a swimming pool or a playground for kids. It seems like Brazilians may not have been as obsessed with keeping up with the trends in decor as in Canada, because when we walked into most places, I felt like I was walking back in time; lots of brown and avocado green toilets and bidets and weird splatter-paint art. Don't get me started on the tiles which cover about 85% of these Brazilian homes. Most of these apartments have a maid's quarter which is usually a small room off the kitchen with no window, and because of these hard working women, everything about the apartment is clean, but super worn down. Air conditioning if available is usually only in the bedrooms and forget about dishwashers. The rent is not cheap and comparable to Vancouver: 5000-7000R per month (About $2500-3500) So Location wins over this option.

3 level apartment, more 80's style.

The second option is what they call Condominiums, which are massive 20-30 storey towers, all gated and with high security, which circle a kind of community center, both above and underground. The list of amenities is long; swimming pools, playgrounds, tennis, squash and soccer courts, ping pong, gym, pilates' gym, yoga room, dance hall, bowling lanes, padded judo rooms, coffee shops, bbq areas for parties, indoor children's play area, a spa with hot tubs, lounging chairs and saunas (this is inexplicable to me), herb gardens, and a running track. The apartments are more modern, but of course smaller, which is no biggie for this Vancouver girl. Still no dishwasher though. These condominiums are removed from the beach and from walkable neighborhoods, but some offer air-conditioned buses that can take you to markets, malls, and beaches on the "outside". Condominium living comes at a higher price; starting at about 7000R plus condo fees 1500R, so about $4000 a month and I would say that's on the low end. So Amenities wins over Location here.

Condominium St-Martin

This is a "children's kitchen" which is used by the nannies to teach kids how to cook at Condominium St-Martin!

No matter which option we end up choosing, I'm sure our place will have a French name, a weird Brazilian pattern I've noticed; Condo Cote D'azur, Maison de Degas, Le Parc, Condo St-Tropez etc... At Le Parc Condominium, the underground community center has a mini glass pyramid that acts as a sky light like the Louvre.

It's freakin-hot here. Today it was 40C. I don't care about walkable neighborhoods, because it's freakin' hot. I don't care even about the beach, it's far too hot for a three year old.  I need air conditioning. I need a pool with shade. I need a well maintained playground in the shade. Some expats have complained that living in a condominium is too removed and isn't representative of  the "real Brazilian life", but I don't care. I'm stuck in a hotel room with a three year old and I'm too hot. I can enjoy the "real Brazilian life" much more happily if I have a cool home to come to.

A Bikini for International Women's Day

The boy woke up at 6:30am, so, a perfect time to hit the beach. I set him up with a pile of toys and spent a good 10 minutes completely still, camera in hand, waiting to take a shot of a little crab that kept darting in and out of his hole in the sand. He was very camera shy, so I never did manage to get a shot of him. Meanwhile, a long pink line of early risers like us were power-walking on the sidewalk. I confirmed with one sweaty woman: "Voces tem as roupas rosas porque hoje e o dia da mulher?" My choppy Portuguese surprisingly understood, she responded, Yes! We're wearing pink because it's International Women's Day today."

So what does a mom like me do on International Women's Day?

1. Put on the only pink thing I have: a beautiful necklace from my friend Christy.
2. Get in the car for the first time and drive it out of the underground parking without scratching it. (Major challenge)
3. Drive myself and the kid to our first playdate without hitting motorcycles and getting lost. (Nerve-racking)
3. Manage to park the car in a safe place. (Miracle)
4. Chit chat for a few hours with a wonderful woman from Melbourne, Australia who is in Rio for a few years with her husband and her three year old son while the boys played in the park. (My boy was mad with excitement)
5. Share tons of ideas and information, encouragement and good laughs with our new friends.
6. Use my credit card successfully at the market, buy a bottle wine which sadly turns out to be gross, and head home to make dinner.

Not bad, eh? I was pretty proud of myself. Back home this would be a breeze. Something I would never think twice about, but here, this simple outing took a bit of courage. Tomorrow, to top off this celebration, I'm going to buy a Brazilian bikini. My Canadian mommy bathing suit is just ridiculous. I'm not sure if it's the white skin or the bathing suit that makes me stick out as if I showed up to the beach in a 3 piece suit, but it's gotta go before I get some serious Neapolitan icecream tan lines. Happy International Women's Day.

Bras, Eye Candy, and Summer Storms

Seems I can't organize my thoughts to make a coherent post today, so here they are randomly.


Running for a half hour on the beach in 28 degree Celcius is like running in a sauna with a snow suit on, but watching the kite surfers zigzag the waves while listening to jogging music is pretty cool. And that was after dinner! Man it's hot here!


While I was sitting on the beach making a sandcastle with the kid, some very nicely built men were jogging by on the sand and it occurred to me that it's really rare to see this in Vancouver, even in the summer. In fact, I don't remember the last time I saw a well built man, if you don't count the gym, and even there it's pretty rare, and besides the grunting is a turn off for me. Oh, my girlfriends in Vancouver, if you are reading this, we are sadly deprived of eye candy. You know they say that men are more sexually stimulated visually, but I think women probably are just as much. So what happens when there's nothing to look at?

Who needs sand toys when the beach provides? Today's toys include a mini plastic toy wrench, a handful of bottle caps, a broken pencil, a piece of string and seashells.

The boy was standing naked in his kiddy pool having his nightly wash down on the balcony, when a lighting storm came along and wiped the power out. I scooped him up and we sat on the couch, drip drying, watching the lighting light up the whole sky while I explained to him that sometimes the sky likes to play drums on the clouds.

I find myself looking at women's boobs because it seems unfathomable that all Carioca women are B cups like the store at the mall seems to suggest. I did find one D cup bra while I was there, but when I tried it on, here's what I concluded. B=A, D=B and I'm out of luck. Why am shopping for bras the first week I'm here? 'cause I'm a dummy for not buying a white bra before leaving.

The two chocolate bars I brought with me from Vancouver were completely melted, sloshing around on my palm, but still contained in their wrapping. I carefully walked them over to the freezer to retain their shape and yesterday I had me a tasty avocado, chocolate frozen pudding pop!

I was joking with an Australian woman yesterday about how getting settled in Brazil really feels like being a girl scout collecting her badges. Everything takes so much more effort and patience.  We proudly showed off our badges to each other: Oh, you have the "kid-in-school badge! Ohhh.... I don't have that one yet! I just got my "drive-without-throwing up-from-fear badge."

Who wants salted meat?

International Club Rio- a Good Place to Start

Maybe it's because I'm not a local that I have a small advantage over my Carioca husband; I expect that everything I want to get done will probably take at least twice if not three times the time it would normally take. It's not news that traffic in Rio is more than insane and probably the most significant reason for "Brazilian time". Missing an exit means tacking on an extra half hour to return to the point where you first made a mistake, so it's no wonder that being fashionable late is inevitable here.

We drove into town to Jardim Botanico to meet members of the International Club Rio, a non-profit organization that aims to help expatriates from all over the world get settled in Rio and also to raise funds for various charities. The meeting was held in a private home overlooking the Botanical Gardens, one of my favorite places in Rio. The reception was wonderful; we met people from all over the world: England, Australia, Belgium, and Canada who had recently arrived and also the more "seasoned" folks, eager to meet us. The club hosts various monthly social events and hobby clubs, so I look forward to joining.
I was warned before I came here, not to join a expat group that was solely "north-american" because it would tend to quickly become a "whining and complaining" group about how things are better back home. The International Club Rio didn't give me that impression at all, no matter how long everyone had been living here, everyone was extremely positive and eager to share their knowledge. Very cool.

Here's an important tidbit I learned from the club; apparently there are over 650 members on the Rio Moms Facebook page and 250 on the Barra Da Tijuca page, so come to mama, Mamas!

I should add that maybe the only bonus of being stuck in traffic is that I had plenty of time to admire the scenery. Even though at ground level it's quite chaotic, most of the time, if I just looked up a bit, there were dramatic rocky mountains, lush green jungle or golden beaches to look at.

View from the parking lot- Jardim Botanico

Barra da Tijuca- Here we are!

Alright! First post on my blog, coming all the way from Rio de Janeiro! How to begin? I won't bore you with the travel details except to say that business class is really the "basic dignity" class compared to the battery cages we usually sit in. Is it the decent amount of space to stretch your legs or less sketchy food that keeps you feeling like a human being upon arrival? Or is it the glass of champagne as you board the plane, catching your breath from having to race the 2 km from gate D22 to gate D44 weaving in and out of crowds with a loaded stroller to catch your final leg to Rio?  I think it is. Minus being coated with a recycled, dry, communal mucus membrane, no tiny chapstick or mini hand cream could possibly alleviate.

So we made it. Barra da Tijuca, meaning "swamp sandbank" and located south of the famous beaches of Copacabana and Ipanema is more beautiful than it's name suggests. Imagine 18km of this on a sunny day!

View from our balcony

Behind us is the "swampier" bits of Barra da Tijuca. There's a large lagoon, a protected area which adds a nice band of lush greenery to hide what I consider the real swamp of this neighborhood- the mega malls, most notably BarraShopping which boasts being the largest in North America. All easily accessible by an insane, multi-laned "avenue" sure to give an expert driver a neck cramp and ulcers.

 
Speaking of largest, there is a giant, and when I say giant, I mean monolithic 90 thousand square meter building in the center of a enormous roundabout called the Cidade das Artes (The City of the Arts) which also boasts being the largest concert hall in North America, but to me, it looks abandoned. Um... a mystery to explore. Another mystery, why Brazilians love condensed milk.

Condensed milk aisle- as far as the eye can see!

So, what's the best way to settle in? Enjoying the views, making green drinks, and running along the beach. I ran a chunk of it this morning without sunscreen. Dumb. You should see my white skinned running shorts! Maybe that explains the tiny bikinis. Next task- making friends! This should be interesting. Keep reading.

Surfers on Barra da Tijuca Beach