Tulsa/NJ/NY '07 Dispatch

February 18, 2007

Newton and I tried out the Delta day flight from São Paulo to Atlanta, connected and landed in San Francisco and Tulsa respectively by that evening. I missed the ice storm that preceded me, though the local news in Natal had mentioned it on the TV sitting on a crate below the produce at the little street market! Most Tulsans I saw were still stunned by the ferocity and the duration. I stayed with my adorable 92-year-old Mother at the Methodist Manor retirement community, where she is the champion high scorer in bridge for the year and the stand-up comic at the annual talent show. Thank goodness there are others there who still have the twinkle in their eye, so I know she is in good company. True to her lifelong form, she is a friend to everyone there, including all staff, no exceptions. We had a grand time visiting friends and relatives and just having time to sit around together. We attended a concert of Celtic music, where Mother got a new joke for her next routine:

The new monk was instructed by the Abbot to go into the basement and begin copying manuscripts. The monk returned to the Abbot, distressed that he was copying from copies rather than from originals, and what if there were mistakes being perpetuated? So the Abbot descends to study the problem, comparing the copy to the original. After some hours the monks hear him wailing from below and run to see what is the matter; "Oh my God," the Abbot shouts, the word was CELEBRATE!"

How do you know there are not enough Italians in Tulsa? When the retirement community dining room serves eggplant Parmesan and one of the residents wonders why she can't find any eggs in there.

Mother called the security guy at the Manor after I was gone for 3 hours on my trip to Target. Luckily, I returned just at the moment he showed up, since she didn't even know what rental car I had. Which brings me to one of the prime objectives of the trip: to get cheap stuff that we can't get here! I felt the heady buzz of shopping perestroika (and I'm not a willing shopper).
Newton and I had each taken our little rolling suitcases inside gigantic suitcases for the purpose of lugging as much as possible back from stores and from our storage unit. Of course the airline weight limits are ridiculously low, but we had a scheme. More on this later.

I saw my sister Donna and her husband and daughter in Lawrenceville, NJ - the hosts of the family! There is always generosity and fun at their house. (Every time my maid calls me "Dona Sandra," I can only think of the list of the four Needham sisters : Janet, Dorothy, Donna, Sandra.)

I got to walk into the Blue Rock School without feeling the burden of responsibility for the first time in years. I got hugged by children from Pre-K through 8th grade - most I had known since they were 4 or 5 years old. That was a highlight of the trip! I was able to take the 4th/5th grade lunch duty, which segued rapidly from reading their serial lunch book to telling them all about Brazil! The school looks great, and, as always, feels like a joyful place.

Newton arrived in NY from San Francisco. He had been skiing with his partners (and our son) and attending a trade show. He and I spent a whole day looking (sometimes in vain) for particular items in our storage unit. Most were in boxes we had obliviously buried behind tons of furniture back in August, so Newt had sore muscles the next day! Our rental car was stuffed, so what about fitting everything into the suitcases?

We had a perfect moment of winter in Wykoff, NJ, meeting our longtime friends from Newton's first job for dinner. Huge snowflakes were coming down with that audibly perceptible, non-sound they make. How nice! But the roads were not dangerous. We were lucky with the weather.

Our old friends, Joe and Guadalupe, put us up in the city for our last night. Newton and I created a "staging area" in their den the next morning, indeed fitting all our loot into the 4 suitcases, being careful to put the heaviest things in the two smaller roller ones and carry-on pieces. The limits on weight are the strictest on the last leg from São Paulo to Natal, where even carry-on weight is supposedly limited to 10 pounds (though we had never seen them weigh carry-ons). We were banking on their not noticing that we were carrying on two rolling suitcases, as well as the backpack, computer bag, box, large purse, and coats. That was our scheme!

We finally had a chance to see our daughter Elise before taking off. She showed us the newly refurbished Havana Central restaurant where she works way uptown. She had just started her FIT semester and loves school and work.

SO, we zero in on the verdict about the baggage for the first leg home. We thought the international flight limit was still 70 pounds per bag, but discovered it has been reduced to the same domestic limit of 50 pounds. For our two over-70-pound bags we owed $100 extra weight fee, but with some coaxing since we were very near the $50 level, the merciful counter clerk reduced the fee to $50.

Now we're in São Paulo, in line to catch the flight to Natal. Our plan is to roll the cart with the two gigantic suitcases up to the counter next to the baggage conveyor, and sneak the other cart with the two "carry-on" suitcases in front of the high counter so the clerk won't notice them. We expect to shell out muito $R reais to pay for the overweight again, but the perky clerk appears to be having way too good a time to notice any digital weight numbers. After the two oversized bags roll past her, she cheerfully inquires if we have any more bags to check? We catch each other's eye and casually reply, "Yes, these two here." On go the other two, without a blink from the agent at the kilos registering on the scale. No having to get them past the gate people. No hoisting them into the overhead compartment. We were lucky with the baggage.


Home again to our beautiful house, which I missed every winter morning.

Love,
Sandy

Brazil Dispatch 7

January 18, 2007

The rooster next door starts crowing at 3:30 am. Sunrise is at 4:30. The caretaker starts sweeping outside at 5:00. The maid arrives at 7:30. There is consistent pressure to get of bed here, plus I'm reading Walter Isaacson's biography of Benjamin Franklin, the original "early to bed, early to rise" guy. Sunset is at 6:00pm. Life is tough for a night person around here.

I could complain about the ongoing trials of the ubiquitous bureaucracy (it took two hours to buy 3 paint colors - two different times - even the clerk had to stand in line to get permission to change a formula!), or I could complain about the price of a texture paint roller ($40), or the spotty luck with the radio internet connection, or having to drive barefoot so I don't have to bribe the police if stopped while driving in flip-flops, but I won't.

Instead I'll concentrate on the good things. We just spent a week having the house patched up - a process that is necessary intermittently for these houses near the beach. The metal structure of the house begins to rust in spots, which causes the gesso walls to crack. A team of 4 men showed up to work on the very day promised (!), performed beautiful, skilled work - including replacing terra cotta tiles on a part of the roof - finished in the promised 5 days and charged us a little under $500. Now our wonderful caretaker, Marcos, is repainting or touching up all the areas, with exceptional pride. He is a tiny, wiry guy, strong as an ox, who loves to paint and loves to have the place looking renewed. He also grins often and makes a verb out of the Portuguese word for 'thing!' It is impossible not to like him.

After looking out over the ocean each morning from the balcony as I do my exercises, I request the breakfast of my choice from Cornelia, the sweet, quick, hardworking maid. I drink a perfect cup of decaf coffee every day!! We eat all meals on the front porch because the old, rotting outdoor set that Fidel left behind is our only option at the moment, but since that is my favorite spot in the house, we will plan to continue to eat out there on the eventual new outdoor table and chairs. We decided not to ship our furniture from the US and just furnish the house with local rustic handmade pieces. This is moving quite slowly, but by the time we return from our trip to the US, we should have a desk and a dining room table to go with Newton's new desk chair and the 8 dining chairs about to be delivered! The key word here in the northeast of Brazil is: patience.

Our beautiful Cotovelo beach always beckons, though we only made it there over the weekend last week. I love to ride little waves on my little Styrofoam board. A trail of people from the nearby high-rises and surfers pass our front gate daily from dawn till dusk. The sandy road still has traces of confetti from New Year's Eve, when everyone gathered on the beach to watch fireworks in every direction (OK - not the ocean direction), and to step into the water to jump seven waves for good luck!

We will have a 'social' occasion here this Saturday, when a couple I met in the supermarket is coming over. The husband is from England, but has such a weak accent after studying in the US and spending 22 years in Rio that I immediately inquired if he was American. The wife is South African, so we all have many notes to compare on our displacement!

These January days are hotter, but the ocean breeze saves the day. Rains come and go in minutes, sometimes passing through our transoms, doors and windows!

The road is getting torn up to lay sewer pipes - about a block each day - left intact every evening. The workers spend about two hours with rhythmic pick axes to dig through the red dirt into the white sand below. We have no idea when any connections to a sewer will occur, but it feels like am improvement happening.

We will have only an already over-scheduled, whirlwind stopover in New York the beginning of February after my visit to my Mother's, and Newton's trade show in San Francisco, so please excuse us if we appear a blur, or don't appear at all. Sounds like winter is finally making an appearance up there.

Love,

Sandy

Happy 2007

Happy New Year Everyone!

I was not about to interrupt my South American timing by sending you a greeting in a rush! Christmas was just one more surreal impression at this point, where my disorientation from all things familiar leaves me slightly unstrung. Forgive me for using you now as an anchor. Our house is claiming me day by day, and the gorgeous stone floor pulls increasingly on my feet.

I am caught off guard when, amidst my annoyance with so many ants and reptiles in the house, a shock of beauty greets me unexpectedly. How does the horizon of the turquoise sea rise above the side wall? Haven't figured that one out. I find myself quoting a line from one of my father's poems, "Oh, Lord, did you paint such beauty for me?"

I hope 2007 holds new discoveries for you. The world is bigger than you think.

Love to you all,

Sandra Jean