Can't Blog Fast Enough, dois

It's now Saturday morning, and I'm up first. So in the interest of being quiet, here's part 2 (dua in Portuguese) of Can't Blog Fast Enough.

*** Thursday ***
Couch Time/Sewing
Cecilia and I had a delightful time this morning with a sewing kit, a small stack of mending, and a couple of hours on the living room couches. While needles and threads took care of tiny holes and a ripped seam or two, we talked all that fascinating girl talk that probably mystifies and makes a male brain liquify. Will ebbed and flowed from the room, taking breaks from working on a website at his computer in the front room. A newly installed ceiling fan combined with breezes off the bay through the open windows to cool and relax. C's favorite music, an eclectic mix of Brazilian and American artists, floated across the dark wood floors and smooth white plaster walls of this 1950's era apartment.

Cecilia's Vovo (Grandmother) hand-picked this space for the view, and was it's first tennant. C says that when Vovo was looking for a new home, she walked in the front door of this apartment directly to the living room windows, and claimed this was her home. "How can you be sad when you look at this view everyday?" she would state in very certain terms. When Vovo died, she left this apartment on Praia de Icarai to Cecilia, her brother Helio, and her sister Flora. Flora has lived here with her son Juan; and now Will and Cecilia are lovingly caring for it. Three bedrooms with parquet wood floors, 2 baths and an eat-in kitchen--tiled floors, and living/dining room with these wonderful wide-planked dark wood floors. The space is definitely designed before air conditioning; fresh breezes and the sounds and smells of apartment life flow through thoughtfully placed windows in each high-ceilinged room.

I'm working on mending a bleached white flour sack tablecloth that Vovo made years ago. As I darn small frayed tears in this sturdy but age-fragile cloth, I feel close to Vovo. Such tiny stitches in the open work that criss-crosses this practical beauty. Crocheted lace made from perle cotton borders the piece perfectly. As Cecilia tells me Vovo stories, I can tell that the two of them were very close. Vovo paid for Cecilia to take English classes right around the corner from the apartment, and C would come have dinner with Vovo after attending her classes twice each week. Little did they know how these classes would prepare Cecilia to return to the country where she was born, and meet her life mate! It's fascinating to me how God puts people and experiences in our lives that prepare us for the future He has already planned for us.

With mending and girl talk set aside, we three stroll to lunch at one of W & C's favorite little places. After walking as much as possible from shade to shade for a number of blocks, we gratefully step into the air conditioned cafe. Fresh dishes, serve-yourself, pay by the kilo makes for a tasty meal. Collard greens are tender and cooked perfectly. My red cabbage slaw has basil in it! Delicious! Cooked pumpkin rounds out my veggie plate. Will walked us part way to Cecilia's appointment for a manicure, then turned back home to work while C and I had some time to window shop. With freshly painted nails, Cecilia showed me a couple of her favorite shops. She and I share an obssession with decorative pillows and linens, so we drooled over some beauties in one boutique home store. Then we headed down the street to the beach for the last leg of our outing and a coconut water.

The vendadors are situated on a braod sidewalk that borders the beach. C invited me to do the ordering. Of course, the man just stared at me after my attempt. "Uma agua de coco" evidently didn't translate, but C saved the day. Deftly, the machete wielding vendador chopped open the correct end of this sweet green ball and handed it to me. My "Muito obrigada" (thank you very much) was met with a little scowl from his dark scruffy face as he took the reis (Brazilian currency) from my hand and gave me change. The only time I've experienced someone drinking coconut water is on all those seasons of Survivor. An interesting flavor, this liquid. For someone whose mouth is trained on Baker's Angel Flake Coconut in the navy blue plastic bag at your local grocers, I could taste only the slightest hint of sweet and barely any coconut flavor in the water from this fruit. It was refreshing to be sure; and C and I found a little shady spot to sit for a minute or two while we slurped from our two straws in the one vessel.

Before crossing the busy street to the apartment, Cecilia walked up to another vendador and asked him if he would open the coconut for us. Of course, since we didn't buy the fruit from him, he had every right to dismiss us with a hand gesture. But when tiny Cecilia made her inquiry, she touched her ripening belly ever so slightly, and the vendador complied. Trained hands simultaneously held the coconut and whacked it with a machete into two perfect halves. Then he took a tool that looked like a large hooked butter knife and made two cuts to free the meat from its husk. Two perfect bowls made of coconut meat with not one speck of brown shell in sight! C and I returned home to Will with our hancrafted coconut meat bowls. We all marvelled at the craftmanship while Will cut fresh mango for the snack bowl. What a Brazilian moment. . . . we had to take pictures, but I'm having trouble loading them on this iPad blog. Pictures will follow.

Dinner and a Movie
After dinner we watched a movie. Babe in Portuguese with no subtitles. Grin just a little bit, right? I know this movie fairly well, so it was fun to see it and train my ear to listen faster to this beautiful language at the same time.

Cool Shower
Yes, my not-so-guilty pleasure to end the day.