Monthly Archives: August 2011

Sugar-Coated

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This little coffee shop came to us by way of recommendation.  We were told the cappuccinos with chocolate dipped spoons were delicious and that we should sit near the window if possible as it is located on rua Oscar Freire.  Each time we walked by, the place was packed to the brim, with no chance in daylight of finding a table.  We ventured in one random night while the establishment was winding down…

Shortly after our cappuccinos were served, I received this look. My husband has mastered this emotion.  It can be translated as ‘I have my food, but I can’t eat it since my wife has to take pictures first.’

I have informed my husband on numerous occasions that he will need to embrace sweet substances.  After all, we live in the top sugarcane producing country in the world.  Brazil has even developed (and regularly uses) sugarcane based ethanol for their vehicles.

He does not agree.  On the other hand, I have joined in celebrating the ready availability of sugar here in Brazil.  YUM.

Thinking Christmas

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My husband and I have already had conversations about what we’ll be giving family and friends for holiday gifts this year.

Since life here is incredibly expensive (holy taxes) my husband has decided that we are ordering online and having each gift delivered… from within the US. I vote no.

I believe it would be more meaningful to collect items from our travels and bring them home when we visit this winter.

One thing we have agreed about though is our present to the Wittigs.

Lisa & Jonathan, Merry Christmas.

You’ll receive this piece of art heaven when you visit us in December. I’m not sure how you’ll get it home… perhaps, the airline can ship it for you? You’ll need to be careful as it is quite large and very heavy.

What matters most is the symbolism and storytelling that will go along with it. Notice the colors, they are a key part of our presentation. There’s more, but I’ll save some of the surprise for when you arrive.

The only logical place for this artwork is above your bed.

xoxo, the Yureckos

Festividades

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While my husband spent most of his birthday translating emails in Portuguese at his new office, I scoured the city searching for fancy/inexpensive gifts that I could afford on my new allowance.

While consulting the Folleys this past weekend, they generously offered this…

Unfortunately, I forgot it.

So I began to look in the area surrounding our hotel.  There are several little bookstores within a few blocks.  Since most of the books are in Portuguese, I looked for options at his reading level.

But since my intent was not to insult him, I opted for a more age appropriate option.

I need this book.  There is so much we can learn about fruit!  (I cannot believe I just wrote that.)  For instance, I had caju juice for the first time recently.  It is not made from the nut, but the fruit attached to it!  Perhaps this is not so amazing to you?!  I feel fooled.

Regardless, this book cost an arm and a leg.  R$ 150.  Translation: $93.18 according to today’s currency exchange rate.  In a few weeks when I’ve saved up enough money from my lemonade stand, I’ll be back for it.

Next it was onto the papeleria.  Picking out a card should have been easy since there were only twelve options.  As it turns out, nothing will ever be easy again.  I went with the most masculine looking card I could find.  I couldn’t tell what it said, but performed a GT upon returning to the hotel.

Google Translation:  “You always was a determined man … win, overcome obstacles and then looking for his accomplishments. And, whatever your dreams mix the storms of life, you always have the certainty that there will be a rainbow. You deserve to be happy!”

Not too shabby.  Please note the look on my husband’s face as he read his card.

Scavenged gifts: (4) Brazilian Beers, Underwear (no holes), Inspirational Card in Portuguese,  (2) Amazon Jungle Books (from the 50% off shelf), and a Cheese Log (there’s a story there, promise)

Plus, one tiramisu cake to boot.

We joked about going to Pizza hut for dinner.  Then we saw people spilling out onto the sidewalks and having their cars valet parked.  Honestly, there were at least one hundred people fighting to get in this place.  For the first time in Brazil my husband told me to take a picture.

In the end, we couldn’t justify Pizza Hut.  We ended up at a little Greek spot.  One of the benefits we’ve found of living in such a large city is that you can walk out your door and have a hundred dinner options within a stones throw.

A little taste… my husband has altogether stopped waiting for me to take pictures.

Something to wash it down with… meet caipirinha with starfruit, grapes & mint.

On the walk home from dinner my husband received a phone call from one of his best friends back home.  He proceeded to ignore me for the next 30 minutes while he caught up with Eric.

Apparently, spending five hours digging through bookshelves and negotiating the price of a pair of undies doesn’t gain you much respect around here.  Perhaps I will call him from the states next year.

I kid.  Ingy, you should have seen his face light up when he got your call.  It was great to hear your voice.  We hope to see you down here soon…

Cheers, here’s to another great year!

Coconutting

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Here’s my belated post from this past weekend in Campinas.  Coordinating birthday activities in a foreign country and the Portuguese language got the best of me this week.

The trip to Campinas was quite successful.  A small part of me wishes something went awry so I had a better story.  But alas, we arrived at our destination correctly.  Twice.

Terminal Tiete: 0

Yureckos: 2

It was great to have friends again… it’s been a long three weeks of pretending to like each other.  Also, being in a hotel room for this long is NOT okay.  I miss my tea kettle.

An unexpected highlight of the weekend was staying in this lovely home.  I might move into their living room so I can wake up to this view every morning.  Did I mention that real parrots live in those palm trees?!

The boys played a late night game of pool.  Us girls passed out from too many caipirinhas.  Jay has perfected the national drink of Brazil and makes them with fruit from his backyard… because that’s normal.  Doesn’t everyone do that?

It was Sunday morning that a random conversation led to coconutting.  This is a term that my husband invented that defines the art of removing coconuts from trees.  Strategic planning was required.

Husband’s ingenious plan:  A jury-rigged saw made of pool cleaning supplies.  An unstable plastic chair.  Under a cluster of wet coconuts.  On a stone patio.  Next to a pool.  I have no words.

Honestly, I stood behind him pretending I could catch him for all of five minutes.  Finally, I took a picture and waited inside until he had completed his task.  My heart doesn’t allow me to watch such things.

Sweet success.  Maybe?!

Ever seen Castaway?  It was sort of like that… minus the part about imminent death and being all alone.

It took most of the day, but eventually my husband was successful and created a full pitcher of coconut water that we enjoyed with home-cooked food.  He wanted me to communicate to our family and friends that he “dominated the coconuts.”

Folleys.  You rock.  Who else would buy twelve different kinds of juice just so we could taste so many new tropical drinks?  Little did you know that we have a rule about finishing everything at the table and would give ourselves bellyaches attempting to consume them prior to leaving.  So worth it.

We are relieved and grateful for your explanations of even the most trivial things.  AND… thank you for not laughing too hard as we shared our mishaps.  Can’t wait to host you in SP.

We ended our weekend trip with the worst game of Scrabble EVER.  Yes.  I put the word ‘toon.’  Twice.  In a row.  My husband’s next word was ‘moly’, as in holy moly.  Luckily, he fell asleep during the ten minutes it took me to come up with yet another lame word.

Feliz Aniversario

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Well, this seems a bit backwards considering that my husband doesn’t read this blog… (perhaps, I will print him a copy.)  All the same, here I am to wish him a happy birthday.

To my husband: You are my favorite person in the world.  Your awkwardness around elevators makes me shake my head smile.  You are also quite tall, which is both attractive and has come in handy on numerous occasions.  You fret about your curly hair on a daily basis (it truly has a mind of it’s own and you should just give up now.)  Your frugal nature has led to many memorable domestic trips in the lower forty-eight states.

I love that you can tell me exactly what I was wearing on our first date, and that you brought me to a gay bar where the bouncer caressed your soft hand.  Your intense fear of spiders, snakes, and sloths will always fascinate me.  You are so considerate to coordinate your panic attacks around mine.

I knew I loved you forever when you visited me at the orphanage in Miacatlan.  Before I could hug you, there were twenty girls surrounding you and calling you papa.  For that short time, you played and spoke in broken Spanish and were a complete joy for those girls.

Instead of bringing me roses, you gave them to my twenty-one girls.  Most had never received flowers in their life.  Instead of just leaving them in the vase, they insisted on carrying them around in coke bottles for two days straight.

You are a dedicated husband and friend, an excellent athlete, and a strong-willed individual. You are intelligent and handsome and the funniest person I know.  I can’t wait to be your old lady, drinking Ovaltine and watching you play jokes on the grandchildren.  I don’t tell you these things enough… but I love you and can’t wait to continue this adventure with you.  Here’s to many more roses in coke bottles.

Mode of Communication

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(me)  Do you think you’ll ever read my blog?

(husband)  No.

(me)  Really?!  Why?

(husband)  I will never read anyone’s blog.

(me)  But I’m your wife.

(husband)  Exactly.  I already know what we did all day.  Why would I read about it?

(me)  Aren’t you the least bit curious about my writing style?  Don’t you feel the need to monitor what information is posted?

(husband)  No.

(me) …  {biting tongue.}

(husband)  Maybe if I weren’t here in Brazil with you, and you were still my wife.  Then maybe.

(me) …

(husband)  Like right now for instance, we haven’t been doing anything all week, what could you possible have to write about?

(me) … {chuckle. still biting tongue.}

(husband)  What do you think people did before blogging?

(me)  They probably weren’t able to communicate with their loved ones.

(husband)  Are you kidding?  They did everything they do now, they just had another hour a day on their hands.

(me)  You’re right.  You win.  {How do you argue with such logic?  It cannot be done.  Blasted rationality.}

Heading to Campinas for the weekend to visit friends…  Take note, we are attempting the bus system for the first time.  Prepare yourself for a good story.

Portuguese Rant*

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*NOT in Portuguese

Well.  It’s official.  I am almost thirty and am learning a new language.  I feel old… and increasingly more stupid.

As we pick up on more phrases in Portuguese, we occasionally say words that make no sense in English. I blame it on thinking too hard ALL of the time.

For instance:

“I would for sure death.”

(die?)

Our week has consisted of:

  • Early morning lessons by our extremely patient instructor Dulce
  • Butchering both written and spoken Brazilian Portuguese
  • Pretending to study by watching movies in English and ‘reading’ the subtitles
  • Eating new/unknown foods that we ordered incorrectly
  • Responding ‘tudo bem’ when random people attempt conversation

I would include a picture but I don’t recall showering in the past four days.  I stumbled upon this print on Etsy a while back.  This inspirational quote has fittingly found a home on the desktop of my computer.  Maybe I will buy it someday when I’m not homeless and without work.

Recently we have been motivated by wanting to say things like “I’m going to punch you in the face” and “Go crap in your hand.”

Needless to say, the combination of time on our hands and the inability to talk to anyone besides each other has been great for our relationship.

I kid.  We still love each other.  And after I complete the rant of frustration, I promise to return to positivity.

Yesterday, while discussing the future tense of a verb, my husband put his foot down.  “This is brutal.  In heaven, we’ll all speak the same language.”

Until then, pray for us…

Parque do Ibirapuera

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Saw this sign while we were enjoying our Sunday morning coffee on the way to the park.  This can’t be real, right?

Parking: for dogs, cats, and other things

 

 

 

Monumento às Badeiras (literally Monument to the Flags)

This statue was unveiled in 1954 near Ibirapuera Park to note the 4th centennial celebration.  It pays tribute to diverse cultures and explorers that helped to create São Paulo’s culture.  The massive statue shows Portuguese settlers alongside black and indigenous men and women, working together to pull a canoe.  This scene was quite common during early river expeditions.

The park prides itself on having more than 100 species of birds…

So pretty! My dream is to have a pet dog and duck that are inseparable. My husband has not yet accepted this goal of mine.  Does anyone understand how great this would be?

Not to mention these warm weather climates have such unique trees…  We have to keep reminding ourselves that it’s winter in the Southern hemisphere (it gets better than this?!)

I think they like soccer here.

BYOH (Bring Your Own Hammock)

Coconut water… so delish! I was a little disappointed it wasn’t served in a coconut.  My husband thought the SunnyD bottle was a nice touch.  Doesn’t he look excited?!

Dog park in Ibirapuera.  Note the fence.  Bizarre, but it works.

No wonder this place is compared to Central Park in New York.  It is the second largest park in Latin America outside of Mexico’s Chapultepec Park.  A great option for Sundays when most shops are closed and people opt to spend their time with immediate family.

Laundry Day

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We spent the night strolling through an area called Jardins, popping in and out of little spots… dinner, cappuccino, and beers.  I’ll need to do a separate post on this area seeing as it is lovely and inviting and famously expensive.  A location we will likely frequent when visitors come.

Before we moved to Brazil, I was worried about craving certain foods and missing the stateside version… one of them being cheese.  As it turns out, this dairy product is everywhere and I no longer have concerns about meeting my daily allowance.  Even my little brother Tim would be impressed.  Picture proof: meet my ‘cheese/chicken sandwich’

We arrived back to the hotel and there was a bag sitting on our table.  I paid no attention until my husband addressed me.

(husband)  What is this?  {a tad annoyed}

(me) I have no clue.

(husband)  These are my underwear and socks.

(me)  … {Why is he asking me if he already knows?}

(husband)  How is it possible that you turned in both of our clothes to be laundered, and the only things I really needed cleaned have been returned?  ALSO, I also have no idea what this note says.

(me)  I will google translate!

Google Translation:  I ask permission to seal four luecar ripper. su pour four different half of a half putuor free white cami and a pair seto eat catfish amaryllis

(Personally, I was a little bit confused by the ‘eat catfish’ part.)  From this we deduced that Jeffrey has four pairs of underwear with holes and a white t-shirt that they were asking permission to stitch.  He also turned in four mismatched socks that they requested to be paired.

I was wholeheartedly amused by the incident… Jeffrey suppressed both mild embarrassment and laughter as we pulled out his under garments one-by-one and inspected the tears.

(husband)  Why won’t they just wash my underwear?!

Lutraphobia

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I very much enjoy having the windows open.  Growing up we were often subjected to hot, humid Minnesota summer nights with no air conditioning taught to appreciate fresh air.  So it is my nature to pull back the curtains and let in the breeze whenever it reaches mild temps above 45 degrees.

With that said, our hotel windows have been open a lot considering the beautiful weather in Sao Paulo.  And my husband who is allergic to everything I love very much, has irrational fears of what can crawl into open windows.

Case in point:

(Husband)  You need to start closing the windows or sloths will get in.

(Me)  I’m sorry.  What?

(Husband) Things will be able to get in, like sloths and piranhas.

(Me) …

1. Wikipedia tells me sloths are unable to survive outside of the tropical rain forests of South and Central America.

2. This guy has longer arms than legs… like me.  So as far as I’m concerned he’s my friend.

3. I bet sloths give great hugs.  From here on out, I will be asking for sloth-hugs.

4.  I felt it unnecessary to add a picture of a piranha.  I also find it pointless to explain why a piranha would not come into our room by means of the window.

5.  Lutraphobia is the fear of otters.  Unfortunately, there’s no phobia that specifically deals with sloths.  (Although, it is amazing how many options appear when you google ‘fear of sloths’.)

6.  My husband has still not read the blog.  We talk about it on occasion, but he has not asked to see it.  So… until then, you are welcome to enjoy our bizarre conversations.