6-Week Dispatch: Florianopolis

Newton had to go to China, Japan and Korea. I began the interim time till we were to meet up in Texas by visiting our Brit/Aussie-Dutch friends, Samantha, Rob and little Lila. They were previously from Natal and are now living in the beautiful southern Brazilian city of Florianapolis. It is literally an island. This is in the state of Santa Catarina, which was settled largely by Germans and Portuguese and is famous for its Oktoberfest. I was visiting in May, when late fall means a cooling down for the coming winter.

 

 

Samantha and Rob are amazing new parents to their Cupie, Lila…sorry, but I can never get over her striking resemblance to a classic Kewpie doll (homage to both spellings)! 

 

 

 

 

Samantha never misses a chance for a well-turned phrase of wicked British humor, and Rob never misses a chance to be there for his girl and his dogs.

At this moment in time I was trying to calm down and take a breather from the horrors of having workmen destroy my house with their shoddy work methods. “Floripa,” as Florianopolis is affectionately called, looks like a neat little German town, only tropical.  The lovely house that Sam and Rob are renting has never seen shoddy workmanship. Ahhhhhh…I was already relaxing and resting up for the weeks of travel ahead just by way of square corners, precise painting, the beautifully crafted front door, and the intricate workmanship on the built-in’s in Rob’s office:

Besides having about the best sushi in the world - prepared by a Korean chef; the best oysters in the world at a restaurant called ‘Ostradamus;’ incredible fish stew, and English tea with milk on cool mornings…we also hired a boat that followed the lovely canal all the way to the ocean.

Here is Samantha, looking smashing as a mother, and “LilaBoat,” as Sam likes to call Lila, even when she is not on a boat. Rob is about 10 feet tall.

Soon after I departed for the USA, they went on a scouting trip to Spain. This was where they met and lived before moving to Brazil, and to where they are returning soon to continue their real estate business.

I just have to include a follow-up photo Sam posted on Facebook with a typical quip:

“Poor Lila being subjected to her first Vegemite experience. They are both covered in rancid brown goo. Moral to the story: Never breed with an Aussie.”

Thanks for the relaxation, great company, and deliciousness, You Three! My next stop: New Jersey.

Love,

Sandy

Brazil Dispatch 35

Let’s just say I’m a bit nervous and over-sensitive and totally thrive in tranquility and beauty; probably not obsessive or neurotic, but who’s, but who’s to say?

Two-and-a–half weeks after the infamous In Mare construction company specified they would begin repairs on our fallen veranda and the widening cracks they caused throughout the house, they actually did begin. What stands out in my mind now is the casual lying – much of it cultural – about the schedule, the highly professional work and complete protection of the surrounding floors, etc.. I was very concerned, having lived with the indelible residue of sloppy ‘repairs’ that predate our occupying the house. My position has long since become: NO MORE of this shoddy mess on my watch (a slippery slope in these parts, neurotically speaking). I thought we would have the same skilled workers who will later finish the $1,000,000+ luxury condos across the road.

Make that ‘worker,’ not ‘workers.’ The one young, crazed heavy-cement-slinger who came to repair our house did have an assistant who stood around doing nothing or sweeping in slow motion. The “two weeks” actually took five…nervous-making enough, but that was only part of the problem. Every step forward was accompanied by collateral damage. We were able to have the new crooked columns made somewhat straighter, but what about the splattered cement on the plants, the walls, the windows, the floors…and the repaired cracks inside and out that were clobbered with ‘cemento grosso.’ The method of building these walls and columns requires throwing the cement in globs, probably to remove air bubbles in the same way that clay is prepared. All that promised protection of surrounding areas was flapping out of place in the breeze, even though I tried repeatedly to anchor it. We had agreed with In Mare that we would be responsible for the painting afterwards, but somehow believed the place would be ‘paint-ready.’ The cement–thrower repeatedly pointed out 1)that he worked only with the heaviest grade of cement, so nothing finer could be applied and 2) that further refinement would be the prep job of the painters. Most of his work looked sub-kindergarten.

Here’s the living room ceiling:

 

 

 

 

The five weeks ended with debris-filled tarps still blowing loosely around the premises, construction rubble on awning roof tiles everywhere, a big black spot on the stone floor of the porch – the thick paint product used to protect the iron rods inside the cement from ocean-rust; and me, five weeks into potential melt-down. Somehow that image on the last day of four hard-hatted boss-men from In Mare standing around the big black spot looking puzzled, after that initial promise, is also indelible. The slow-motion assistant actually just scraped the stone away for hours, so now we have an indented white spot. But the porch and the balcony were reconstructed, at last!

This was a Wednesday. On Friday, the painting team of Adriano and Ronaldo that had been recommended by friends arrived punctually and began carefully taping the tarp in place across the veranda for their “one week’s” work. Tape! Impressive. Adriano was the boss, and a sweeter guy you could never meet. Next thing we knew, there was paint on top of the rough globs of cemento grosso right over our front door. My statement to Adriano went something like, “if the reconstruction guy won’t prepare the wall for painting and YOU won’t prepare the wall for painting, who is supposed to prepare the wall for painting?” The answer turned out to be  - over the next two weeks that it took them to finish – a combination of MY preparing walls with massa and their returning to various painted areas to sand down the cement, cover it with gesso, sand again, and then paint again. They initially worked diligently and – credit where it is due – painted edges STRAIGHT, a skill that I had not yet encountered in these parts; HOWEVER, Ronaldo failed to use any drop cloths inside or out after the porch was finished, so the stone floor, walls and woodwork throughout the house were covered with splattered paint or smudges of paint where he decided to swat it with his hand. He also burst through locked double doors to the veranda, for which we’re replacing a hinge now. A straight-line-painting brute. The ever-friendly and charming Adriano worked less and less as he passed the time talking on his cell phone, staring into the trees from the scaffolding to spot iguanas, then carrying the iguanas around so everyone could pet them. It was still miraculously impossible not to like him!

On what we thought was the last day - and I was seven weeks into ever-increasing mental fragility - we discovered that the painters had simply applied the expensive texture paint product right over the scars of repairs on the balcony without any prep whatsoever. It looked awful. No one could answer “why?” after completing the porch below beautifully, because that sort of logical explanation is beyond elusive in this region. They had cleaned up before having a walk-around with us, so all had to be undone, they had to return the next day, we had to buy another US$200 can of the texture product, and all the nice paint work on the balcony got dribbled upon. Ronaldo ended up painting over everything again while Adriano, who had on his list to scrape paint off the stone floors with a wire brush, scraped only a couple of areas and strolled around on his cell phone. They liked to point out that they are evangelicals because in the Northeast that means they don’t drink, they show up on time and they are trustworthy. Lucky for us all, they didn’t proselytize. Over the balcony fiasco, I said: “You two have your church; well, the balcony is my church, my espaço sagrado.” They were sweet about making it right the second time, which probably spared their lives; I had not set foot on it for seven weeks and was coming unglued.

Because Adriano and Ronaldo had to redo a couple of ceilings and fix some repaired areas inside, it turned out that over the two weeks there was work in progress everywhere at once. They couldn’t seem to finish any one area. We couldn’t eat on the porch or the balcony or in the dining room. Their work had to be sanded before Marcos, our caretaker, and I could start painting the interior rooms and exterior wood trim (he paints with the roller and I paint ALL the edges of trim, ceiling, and floor to insure straight lines). I used the waiting periods to repair the crazy walls with putty, buy paints, mix the too-bright colors with neutralizing pigments, and try to keep areas clean enough to function. Marcos and I finally managed to complete the master bedroom, dining room and living room! I may be the only person on earth who completely repaints her house in the same colors she fell in love with 6-1/2 years ago (well, the formulas no longer exist, so similar colors). We still have more to go two weeks after the painters’ departure, and we will not finish now until Newton and I return from our upcoming 6-week trip. Marcos’ assignment while we’re away will be to somehow remove all the paint and remaining cement splatters all over the floors and re-stain the woodwork. I look up and say, “beautiful house;” I look down and say, “slum.” I have had no time for travel preparations and am experiencing the exhaustion that could only be produced by weeks of physical labor and endless anxiety watching my beloved house get improved and destroyed simultaneously. I have survived, if my current state qualifies as survival. It’s better not to mess with me for awhile. BUT LOOK! The beauty is freshly back, and so is my balcony:

 

Love,

Sandy

Los Angeles Dispatch

Elise has a charming Arts and Crafts style bungalow she moved into last May. It is near East Hollywood. The most stunning decorative detail is, of course, Elise’s cat – the “It Girl” Fluffer…always ready for her close-up!

It must have been a warm day.

Rebel Without a Cause

The highlight of our brief stay with Elise before heading off to Mexico for the holidays was our hike to the Griffith Observatory – a place frozen in two times: its beautiful deco origins and its role in the 1955 film, “Rebel Without a Cause.” There were several exterior and interior scenes featuring James Dean, Natalie Wood and Sal Mineo.

The trail up offers a lovely view of the city, but the Deco details steal the show at this place, along with the bust of James Dean. We were actually there on December 21, 2012 and, as duly noted over the door, we’re here to tell it!

Pendulum

                                        

 

 

 

James Dean tragically died in a car crash just a month before the film was released, so he too became frozen in time as the icon of mid-20th century alienated youth.

 

 

 

 

After Mexico, I returned to L.A. to stay with Elise while Newton embarked on the business portion of the trip. Elise and I had such a memorable week!

 

The Beatles

Not only did I obsess about the Beatles from age 14 on, but my kids became utterly devoted fans around the ages of seven and nine. They eventually read every available biography and became walking Beatles encyclopedias. It seemed only fitting to get tickets to the London stage production of “Backbeat” that was currently playing in L.A. The plan was soundly reinforced when I found two tickets online for $40 each instead of $150. “Backbeat” is a musical staging of the 1994 film of the same name, which depicts the Beatles’ early trial-by-fire in a club in the red light district of Hamburg, Germany. Newton had to make an edited version in the ‘90’s for Elise and Jake to watch, they were so young, but I remembered how much we all loved the film. It is about the teenaged ‘Quarrymen’ evolving into the Beatles with the help of the bohemian German photographer, Astrid Kirchherr and her cohorts. She fell in love with John Lennon’s friend, Stuart Sutcliffe – a lovely guy who just wanted to be a painter, but whom John convinced to play bass guitar for the group. He died in 1962. Pete Best was the drummer in Hamburg; Ringo had not yet replaced him. Astrid’s German boyfriend had the ‘mop top’ hairdo that the Beatles eventually copied, but her early photographs of the group at this time – this is one of hers - document their early classic rock-n-roll looks. George finally got deported when the German authorities discovered he was not even eighteen!

                                    “Nowhere Boy”

Serendipitously, the night before the Sunday matinee, Elise suggested we choose a movie off the (rather pathetic) Netflix list. She thought I’d like “Nowhere Boy,” a 2009 British film about John Lennon’s adolescence with his Aunt Mimi. He was finally getting to know his somewhat unstable but vibrant mother. Elise still lived in New York when it came out and had covered the premiere as a videographer. Yoko Ono, speaking at the premiere, vouched for the details of the story and her consultation on the film. It is beautifully made, very poignant. At the end of the movie, after John’s mother has tragically died in a car accident, he announces to his Aunt Mimi that his rock-n-roll group, The Quarrymen, are going to Hamburg to play in a club. So the theater production the following day took up right where the film left off. At the end of the musical, the players broke into “Love Me Do” and then “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” – marking the very point at which I joined the story in 1964!

ART

This was my third visit to L.A. since Elise moved there. I was bound and determined to finally visit a museum. We decided on LACMA: Los Angeles County Museum of Art. The Met or the Modern in New York it is not, but it is certainly wonderful in countless ways. I appreciated seeing works by major artists that I had never seen before, for example. The physical space itself also offers its own joys. I would say I love museums, but I love any museum with Elise best of all! We have a history that goes all the way back to her first trip to the Met in New York at three months old – the Van Gogh exhibit. A favorite memory is taking Elise, 4, and Jake, 2, to the Met for the first time after we moved back from Japan. After absolutely loving everything inside, we sat on the outside steps and watched a mime performing…pulling a bus away from the stop, etc. He soon noticed Elise and Jake on the lowest step in front and called them to join the act. The crowd oohed and aahed, and Elise carried herself as if a star on one of the red carpets she now covers professionally!

Picasso; Lichtenstein, Mondrian, Warhol, of course:

 

 

 

 

 

 

We were enchanted by the glowing street lamp installation in front of the museum.

     

Out and About 

My daytime exploits involved quite a long shopping list of gifts and items to schlep to the third world. I had to get new reading/computer glasses, as my Nordestino attempt had left the right side of every page and screen blurry. I needed upholstery fabric for our living room, so drove to the perfect fabric store across town – more like a candy store for me after a long career in textiles and hopelessly limited choices where I live. (I must always qualify that glasses turn out well and there are loads of fabric choices in the South of Brazil!) I felt totally L.A. when the clerk helping me was a guy in men’s clothing with a face made up in an exaggerated womanly way, as if for the theater! A transcosmetite? I picked out gift shopping possibilities on my way over there to check out on my way back; it’s just that the bookstore I had spotted turned out to be a gay porn store. I was then directed to the elegant Grove to one of the last remaining Barnes and Noble stores, where I crossed off many gifts from my list. But even as books with covers are waning, I was pretty distraught at the near non-existence of personally owned shops along this stretch. It seems there is almost nothing for sale apart from the big chains. At least the interior décor neighborhood has one elegant gem of a store after another.

Elise and I had some outstanding dinners, my favorite being the salmon filets and asparagus she whipped up in no time in her kitchen (Newton’s genes). I was really impressed with the unique menu and excellent Spanish and Portuguese wines at ‘Red Hill.’ We went with Elise’s friend and her boyfriend, who is a wine salesman and really knows his way around! We met up with my niece April and her darling family at a sort of pretend Brazilian restaurant, where caipirinhas – the national drink of cachaça rum, fresh squeezed lime juice and sugar - come in a super-size-me glass filled mostly with 7-Up.

Star Struck

After using the car during the days, I had fun meeting up with Elise at her interesting venues. One was the red carpet premiere of a zombie movie, ‘Warm Bodies” whose cast included John Malkovich and James Franco’s brother, Dave. It was hellish getting to any area where I could find her, as the sidewalk was cordoned off and police were everywhere, but we eventually walked into each other while phoning. I felt so “with it” trying to maneuver past all the 20-year-olds craning their necks on the sidewalk! Another great spot was called ‘Sassafras’ – a bar/restaurant in the New Orleans style, complete with hanging moss. It really captures the beauty and mood of another era. I also loved meeting up at Elise’s office, the home of AOL’s Cambio teen website. Elise and four other young, darling, talented, dedicated dynamo’s run the whole thing! (The staff used to number in the dozens.)

 

 

Here is Elise with Producer Extraordinaire, Paige, after countless hours on the red carpet, and with Social Media expert, Betsy, ready to chill after a tough week:

Apart from the drudgery, the hours awaiting red carpet events, long days of shooting followed by late nights of editing the video footage, there are some perks. Elise got to shoot both the Emmy’s and the Grammy’s red carpets recently. Here are a few choice snaps from her iPhone:

Jon Hamm of “Mad Men”                     Claire Danes of “Homeland”

“The Boss,” Bruce Springsteen            A longtime heroine, Bonnie Raitt    

    

Beyoncé Knowles                              Sting

 

But there’s one beauty and talent that stands out most to me.

Thanks for a perfect week, Elise.

 

 

 

 

 

Love,

Sandy