São Paulo from Marco Aslan on Vimeo via Discovering São Paulo

#SP458 Timelapses from Julio Brunet Rocha on Vimeo via Leah

According to Jim, “Each year the television network Globo features a body-painted naked beauty in commercials running up to Carnaval. This 30 second spot runs at all hours of the morning, noon and night. Only-in-Brazil!”

My initial reaction:  My Minnesotan self cannot handle such things.

Second thought:  I must harness the dancer inside of me.  I want to move exactly like that.  But with clothes on.  And with sparkles on top of the clothes.  And perhaps in some nice ballet flats.

Did you see those shoes?  No?  Well you should probably watch it again and look at the shoes this time.

Husband:  {compliance}

A:  You can’t smile next to a danger sign.  That is confusing.

H:  What?

A:  Be spontaneous!  Look like you are drowning or something.

H:  {noncompliance & frustration}  That doesn’t make any sense.  I’m on the beach. 

A:  {sad face}

H:  Fine.  Why don’t you do it.  I’ll take the picture.

A:  Okay!!

A:  Ahhhhhh!  HELP ME!!!  I’M GOING DOOOOWN!

{momentary silence…}

H:  You have got to be kidding me.

After my last post I received several comments from fellow expats regarding a simpler method of registration.  Despachantes.  The term derives from the Portuguese word ‘efficient’ and refers to a middle-man of sorts.  These runners are meant to assist in maneuvering through the heaping piles of red tape in Brasil.

Initially, we assumed my husband’s company would partake in this process.  He dropped off all of the necessary paperwork before departing to work in Rio for several weeks.  Upon his return, HR stated it would cost us several hundred reais to have their despachante complete the process.

Being both stubborn and frugal, the husband we decided that I would tackle the task. 

In hindsight, I wouldn’t change a thing (minus the metro incident).  A lengthy and complicated process, yes.  But also insightful.  I presume the majority of Brazilians don’t have the luxury of hiring a despachante, so the tedious governmental tasks remains theirs.  I had the opportunity to experience the bureaucracy firsthand, and in the end, it was resolved and I had encountered only accommodating people. 

Car registration update:

• Opted to tackle SP traffic via car (had my fill of public transportation for the week)
• Missing two documents upon arrival 
• Waited, received my renavam (final paperwork printed by detran)
• Told I needed proof of chassi (google translate does not know this word)
• Questioned why I was alone and no one had been provided to help me (apparently, I wasn’t the only person confused by this)
• Surrounded by twelve people speaking quickly in Portuguese
• Escorted to my car by two uniformed police officers 
• The chassi (VIN) was traced in pencil and signed to verify authenticity
• Escorted back in, told to pick up my new registration card next Wednesday
• All twelve detran employees waved goodbye

It was a group effort people. 

This past weekend we toasted the successful completion of a Brazilian task during a celebratory dinner.

Little victories.  Sad, I know.

This week.  Car insurance.

• Transportation taken: bus, train, train, train, bus, train, train, bus
• Stopped at two incorrect locations before finally locating DETRAN
• Caught in rainy season downpour with no umbrella
• Became nauseous and felt the need to destroy something
• Was given this to do list (of which I understood four words):

• Printed payment ticket from machine, turned away at Banco do Brasil, 15 minute walk to Santander Bank in the rain, paid taxes upon returning to Banco do Brasil
• Second floor… did not have proper documents… car STILL NOT registered
• Defeated, suppressed tears, walk of shame to the train
• Threw up on metro.*  During rush hour.  Not. Kidding. 
• Developed hate of all things new and difficult
• Arrived home.  Rested.  Large car fire in garage. 
• Fled building in pajamas.  Met numerous neighbors while sick and half naked. 
• Acquired headache from burning rubber and gasoline smoke

*Getting sick on the metro is not funny yet.  Unless you are my unsympathetic husband who proceeded to laugh as I laid in bed after THE WORST DAY EVER.

SO… as I prepare to return to DETRAN this afternoon, I am choosing to focus on pleasant memories from our previous weekend at the beach. 

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Our good friend Suzanna already did a lovely post on our weekend jaunt to Praia de Camburi so you can just read hers.  I figure I earned a lazy post after vomiting on strangers while enclosed in a contained space yesterday.  Photo tour, commence.

Jeff, the husband & Alex enjoying lunch on the beach.

Our adopted dog for the weekend, Tuku.

A little mother-daughter beach bum for your Friday.

Myself, Suzanna, Jana & Tara in our conservative swimsuits.

Paddle boarding.  Apparently, quite hard if you are tall.  Or hail from Minnesota.

Husband, left.  Jeff Jones, right.

Our charming pousada was located two blocks from the beach on this dirt road.

Pray for me as I partake on round two of registration today.

Happy thoughts. Puppies. Coconut juice. Rainbows. Hugs. Books. Picnics. High fives.

We arrived Friday night just in time for a walk at sunset and dinner on Praia Camburi.

The rest of our weekend was spent enjoying incredible food with great friends and consuming an abundance of coconut water.

It finally dawned on me… THIS is why we live in Brazil. I can safely predict there will be many more road trips in the near future. Who wants in?

Had I the opportunity to meet my mother in her younger days, I would have surely been captivated.  Small town country girl who left the family farm to tackle college and study abroad in Mexico… the girl had some spunk.

And today, she continues to lead by quiet example.  She is patient, devoted, and always perseveres.  On down days, she is supportive and provides a listening ear.  Each time a conversation draws to a close, an email from her is soon to follow.  It says that you were heard, you were understood, and that you are loved.

Last year’s surprise celebration was quite the affair, with Tim arriving from Afghanistan and the Wittig’s from Chicago.  While this year will undoubtedly be less grandiose, we hope the memories created last for years to come. 

“One of the oldest human needs is having someone to wonder where you are when you don’t come home at night.”
– Margaret Mead

In honor of your birthday mother, I promise to avoid alleys and strangers today.

We wish you the loveliest of birthdays.  You are admired, appreciated and loved.  Endless thanks for things unsaid.

LOVE you always,
April

Eating food that can justifiably be smothered in ketchup is distracting me from the fact that my husband has been in Rio for three weeks straight.

Smart move, husband.  Well played.

Meanwhile, he has also left me with a list of priorities:
1. Puzzle
2. Anything else

Apparently, someone wants his table back and three pieces a day is not considered sufficient progress.  I have been given a deadline of ten days to complete the hardest puzzle ever.  (Thanks for that Lisa.)

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A few weeks back we took a day trip to Embu das Artes to celebrate some birthdays.  Technically, it was only Suzanna’s birthday… but she kindly shared the day with me (since mine was on hold until we could make friends to celebrate with.)

Embu is located 40 minutes outside of São Paulo. The town was founded by Jesuit priests in the 17^th century and still maintains buildings from the colonial period.

It is a charming city with cobblestone streets, handicraft shops, and plenty of spots to drink the day away.  We opted for German fare which represented inhabitants that settled in the area generations ago.

On weekends and holidays, there is a handicraft fair which has been occurring for more than 70 years and attracts people from all over the country.

AND there were puppies… which makes this my new favorite weekend jaunt.

I have a new found love for all things guinea fowl.

Taste testing artisanal cachaças.

The floating head might be advertising hair braids.  I’m not sold.

My husband ‘humoring me’ after I asked him to muddle for the picture.  There’s a first for everything. 

Also, I have officially become my mother with the use of that phrase.

Have you met… THE CUTEST PUPPY EVER?!?

Sampling toasted nuts and candied coconut. 

Sampa is what the locals affectionately call São Paulo.

As with any good celebration, we rounded it out with Farkle and an exorbitant number of shots.  I won the contest for most farkles.

Here’s to thirty good years, and seventy more to come.  Happy birthday Suzanna!

No.  I did not do a great job narrowing them down.  Get cozy.  I’m sure you have nothing better to do considering the high in Minneapolis today was two degrees and I was busy wearing flip flops in Brazil.

Sorry.  That was mean. 

Catedral da Sé, New Year’s Day mass

Wasn’t. kidding. 

São Paulo was EMP-TY… ‘I am Legend’ style. 

Since our favorite ramen joint in Liberdade was closed for the holidays, we submitted to hunger pains and settled for whatever was across the street.  Worst Chinese food EVER.

Four words:  gravy covered chicken bones.  Never again.  SO sorry guys.

Parque Trianon lit up for Christmas

And… this here is how Lisa got invited back to Brazil.

Playing euchre with tasty coffee drinks at Santo Grão on Oscar Freire.

Please note my opening statement regarding incoming censorship requests.

Thank goodness Jonathan was there.

Hotel Unique, designed by Ruy Ohtake

Rooftop Skye Bar prior to the dinner rush… perfect timing for a sunset.

Immediate thought process:

This should be Jonathan’s facebook profile pic!!

…

Oh my goodness.  I am such a jobless 14 year old.

Vila Mada.

Hairy lady armpits and Pee Wee Herman in perma-squat under display glass.

Well, that’s not weird. 

From our first day exploring the market to our last few hours sampling juices, having you both here was a blast.  You are welcome back anytime.  Like, now.

Facebook profile picture!!!

On a brighter note, I haven’t been bumped down to the basic level class yet.  Thank goodness for rainy season and homemade lasagna… it’s study time.

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Between weather reports riddled with rain and the mass departure of Paulistanos over the holidays, there was not much sight-seeing to do during the Wittig’s visit.

So we buckled down and did what any good Wolff would do.  We played cards.  The entire visit.  It was amazing minus the fact that I NEVER won (not bitter at all).  In the end, we laughed a lot and loaded up on some much needed family time.  There were even a few moments where we didn’t feel quite so far from home.

Evidence of rain.  New Year’s Eve 2011-2012.

Brazilian New Year’s Traditions:

• Gather at the beach, jump seven waves, and throw flowers to wish for a happy and prosperous year
• Private parties at clubs, bars, and homes
• Fireworks displays at midnight
• Concerts with top Brazilian musicians
• Wear all white to bring and sustain good luck
• Wear underwear whose color states your intentions for the coming year

After dinner in Vila Mada, we made our way to Paulista under the assumption that any remaining citizens were likely congregating there.  What we found was a big, wet mess.  We brought in the Ano Novo with thousands of Brazilians on Avenida Paulista listening to live concerts, drinking chopp, and getting doused with rain water.

This picture WILL be framed.  And not simply because my husband is holding a flowered umbrella it is a lovely shot.  But because the man originally attempting the picture tried 42 times with no success before we handed it off to another bystander.

The fact that my family is still smiling after three full minutes of pure frustration can only be attributed to their awareness of my persistence regarding quality group photos.