GO O O O O OALLLLL!!!!!

Today, out shopping all on my own, I found my MOG dress. First dress, first try. Done!

I'm as pumped as the soccer player who kicks the winning goal and then runs around the field chest-bumping every team member. Here's why.
1. I speak Portuguese like a two year-old, and the sales clerk didn't speak any English. She was, however, very patient with my stammering attempts to communicate. She was extremely gracious and had a sense of humor. She was also very helpful in finding the right size.

2. Sizes here are the European kind. In Brasil, many petite, body-conscious women are a European size 36 or 38 (that's an American 0 or 2!). I have never been a size 2/38--even when I was born. It's really embarrassing to say outloud that I need a size 44 or 46. No matter what the language I say it in, I feel kind of like I'm attending a Twelve Step meeting: "Hi. My name is Sandra. I'm a European size 46." It is what it is.

3. Kismet! At separate times yesterday, Cecilia and I both passed by this dress and noticed it in the store window. Midday, I was browsing while on the way to get some groceries when it caught my eye. I even went into the store, but chickened out after a clerk greeted me with Boa Tarde." (The thought of performing solo in front of a strange crowd makes the Gringa anxious.) Later yesterday afternoon, Cecilia and Will took Daniel for a consult with the pediatrician, and when they walked past the boutique display, C pointed it out to Will as a good possibility. Great minds think alike.

4. The dress ticks almost all the boxes on my practical MOG dream list:

[+] cool enough (This is Brasil and the reception is outdoors.)
[+] soft enough (I can hold Daniel without slashing his skin on beading or sequins.)
[+] personality (It's not so predictable MOG.)
[ ] blue--Nope, it's khaki! I'll get to follow Joy's advice after all. Remember, she said the mother of the groom is supposed to wear beige and be quiet. We'll see about the quiet part . . ..

But till then, how 'bout a little chest bump from cyberspace? GO O O O O O OALLLLLL!!!!!

In Neutral

From the window this rainy morning, everything is neutral and sleepy. Four large dark water birds--the ones that ususally soar above the bay--hunch in a disgruntled clutch just this side of an ebbing tide. Sugar Loaf has snagged a cottony cloud, and above that, the entire bay is cloaked in soft pewter blanket. On the deserted beach--the color of the doce de leite I spooned from its jar last night for a sweet treat--a disciplined jogger's white t-shirt and aquamarine shorts punctuate the pocked sand--quick brightness on this placid palette.

On the puddled sidewalk just below this window, there's a sky-blue tourist's umbrella with legs. Another that looks like a walking sunflower dodges wet spots while walking. An arm reaches out from beneth to hail a taxi, and then falls when the cab speeds past. Traffic heading into Rio is rush-hour thick, but moving smoothly in spite of the glassy asphalt. Grey, charcoal, silver, black, navy--sensibly colored vehicles follow the leader to appointed destinations. The occasional rebellious red car looks like a foreign body in this flowing neutral artery.

Not just the colors are dim. The sounds are on mute this morning as well. Waves and car motors are sleep-inducing white noise. A darting motorcycle, an impatient beep; but something is definitely different. Lots of navy Niteroi taxis flow past, and yield before turning onto the street where they find their next fares. Buses. Where are the buses? That's what's missing from this landscape.

Not one white rectangle has sputtered, squeaked to a halt, chugged while awaiting passengers, or accelerated in a groan and puff. The stream of public transportation is totally blocked upstream somewhere, and it's absence makes for a pleasant, quiet boulevard below. It also makes for an impossible commute for thousands of Brasilians who must beg and share taxis, if they can afford the fare.

Bus drivers are on strike today. Just like bank security personnel a week ago that caused financial institutions to close their doors. And just like the police just before Carnaval. And just like the banks back in the fall when Cecilia and Will were trying to get accounts established after they moved to Niteroi. Since we don't watch tv, listen to radio, or read a newspaper, we're not privy to the grievances that precipitate these strikes. Wait a day or so, or nearly a month in Cecilia and Will's case with the banks, and they're usually back in service.

The ashen sky is lifting now. Unfortunately, the Gringa's bus trip with Dora to Rio for dress shopping has been postponed. Taxis were impossible to get, so we'll try it another day maybe. Now that the streets are drying, I'll get the grocery list and head out . . . on foot.

Tchau!

The Seasons Change

There's nothing more grey than a rainy fall day at the beach.  And there's hardly anything more peaceful as well.  Steve and I spent our honeymoon on Galveston Island on Thanksgiving weekend in 1973.  Yes, the Flagship Hotel was the place to be back in the day, and the weather was mellow and cool and grey and wet.  Sort of like it was today on Guanabara Bay in Brasil.

March rains are expected here, and even celebrated in the song Aguas de Marco.  You can listen to the song and even read subtitles for a taste of Brasil at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g3oNSFQVzNM    

As the earth tilts to give the Northern Hemisphere more sun, summer is ending south of the equator.  Fall is on the way in Rio, just when spring wildflowers are popping in Texas.  I love seeing pictures on Facebook of my friends' little ones sitting in fields of bluebonnets.  I could see fields of bluebonnets from most every window of our house in Chappell Hill.  Now the colors I can show you from Cecilia and Will's apartment window are a different kind of natural phenomenon.  Enjoy this sunset from earlier this month . . .

So glad to share!

Tomorrow Dora and I will be taking a bus to Rio.  We'll be meeting Nara there to shop for the elusive wedding attire for MOB and MOG.  Till the Gringa gets back from a new adventure--

Five Weeks

There are now five weeks left of my fifteen-week stay in Brasil.

I'm generally a glass-half-full kind of person. With that attitude, I can look at Daniel, Cecilia, and Will, and think, "Good! We have five weeks to spend together." Most people don't even get that much vacation time to start with, right? Every day Daniel changes. We melt with his engaging smiles and cheer when he 'accidentally' flops from his belly to his back. I enjoy the pleasant Coco soap smell of cool damp clothes on the secadora. Purple-black acai and fresh juice made from watermelon with mint are delightful. Golden ripe papaya and fragrant, delicate star fruit are as common here as apples in the States. Cecilia and I have spent hours talking about important heart-to-heart topics. I've come to know my younger son as a man. We've shared friends, family, and our faith. We've joined hands to pray at dinner time.

I really enjoy walking the neighborhood to accomplish errands or take Daniel to the park. The streets are busy with vehicles, and pedestrians do not have the right-of-way! That was one of Will's first lessons for the Gringa: study the traffic carefully before stepping off any curb. The best place to cross a street is actually in the middle of the block--what we call jay-walking in the States. But in the middle of a block, you only have one- or two-way traffic to consider; it's usually calmer. At an intersection, you have a minimum of two directions to watch. If the crossing streets are two-way or multiple lanes, Katy Bar the Door! There may be a special lane for taxis or buses. Motorcyclists dart between cars and don't play by any rules. Turning traffic will appear out of nowhere. Timing, spry footwork, and the fear of God are the keys to navigation by foot. Oh, and jay-walk whenever possible. There are five more weeks of strolling the streets of Icarai, Niteroi.

And there's still time to enjoy not driving. I love to drive at home. Of course, everything I need there is beyond walking distance too. We even choose driving trips for vacations; but after reading the previous paragraph about driving habits in Carioca Land, you think you could pay me enough to get behind a wheel here?! And why bother? If the destination is too far to walk, I can catch a bus to anywhere just steps from our apartment for R$2,75. Niteroi's navy blue taxis are promptly available to take you anywhere you can't (or don't want to) go by bus. Who needs to worry that parking is very limited and therefore exorbitant in price? It's nice to leave the car behind for another 35 days.

And there are 35 more days to enjoy Beira Mar. Our favorite and closest cafe/bakery/specialty market has kept us fed for a month. When the Gringa was unable to fit grocery shopping and cooking into the newborn world, I could walk a block for fresh grilled salmon, chicken, or beef with dozens of choices for soups, sides, salads, breads, and desserts. I could be back to the apartment with steamy containers of healthy take-out by the kilo in less than half an hour. Another place that we've been several times for lunch is an out-of-the-way place called Alecrim. This buffet-style restaurant has good, fresh offerings from 11AM to 3:30PM. One of my favorites is a cabbage slaw with fresh basil dressed in vinaigrette.

Many restaurants, including Beira Mar and Alecrim, have hand-washing sinks. Okay, every place that has a bathroom has at least one sink, I know. But these hand-washing sinks are not in the restrooms. They are generally in an alcove close to the restrooms, but you don't have to open any doors or enter the toilet area if you just want to wash up before eating. I have 5 more weeks to enjoy this little nicety.

There are 35 more nights and days to stare at Daniel's deep blue eyes and hug his chubby little diapered butt. And smell his hair. And listen to him breathe when he's sleeping in my arms. And talk him into a sly toothless smile. Or watch him stare at his Mommy while stretched out across Cecilia's lap to nurse, and hear him squeak when gulping down his milk. And see Will and Little Man watching "The Incredibles" from the rede; or, while walking down the street, see Daniel's little balding head bobbing on Dad's shoulder.

This morning Cecilia said Daniel will be nine months old when they come to visit Texas for the holidays. The fact hit me like a right cross just above the belt. I will be leaving.

What's that old song say? "It's such a long, long time from May to December." I will miss most of Daniel's 'firsts,' and I'll miss the precious everyday-ness of life with this little family of three that I love so much. I'm sure that the W. R. Binghams are looking forward to having their home to themselves. (You know the saying--fish and houseguests start to smell after three days.) After 15 weeks, I'll be so glad to see my man, my gardens, family, friends. How can I be homesick for two different countries? Two different homes? Guess I'll find out! In 5 weeks--that's 35 days, y'all.

Until then, my glass is more than half-full.

Flying

For those of you who don't know, both Will and Cecilia are card-carrying members of Club Fly By The Seat of Your Pants. They put the pro in procrastination. In the dictionary under "last minute" is a picture of this smiling couple. They both freely admit it works for them with very few hiccups. [Enter wedding details, stage left.]

For the past three weeks or so, Dora's best friend Nara has been rallying the troops to nail down details concerning Cecilia and Will's wedding on April 28th. From Texas, the intendeds secured the venue in 2011, which was good.  From America came: bridal gown, shoes, veil and garter for C; suits, ties, shoes for groom and son--check! Check and check! Then came the move to Brasil, thirteen hoops to jump through for their civil wedding ceremony in January, and a million miles of red tape to endure for Will's permanent residency status. Throw in the final 2 trimesters of pregnancy, Daniel's arrival by C-section, Cecilia's recovery, and 48-hour-a-day life with baby;  and it's now little more than a month before Cecilia and Will's church nuptials.

Dora's friend Nara and I belong to a different organization--The Sisterhood of Get It Done Yesterday. (Mine is the OCD chapter with plenty of colorful pens and Post-It notes. Want to join?) Three weeks ago, Nara pressed Dora to find her mother-of-the-bride dress, and there have been excursions to locate a skirt just the right shade of 'wine' to go with a pretty beaded top.  Maybe a seamstress could make the skirt?  Even though it's now too late to secure a dressmaker, it will all come together.  Dora assures us.

Now that Dora's attire is settled upon, the Gringa is free to find appropriate MOG attire.  Let me share wisdom from Steve's mom Joy when Steve and I married nearly 40 years ago. "I like being the mother of the groom. All I need to do is wear beige and be quiet!"  Even though I probably won't be in beige, I'm not very chatty in Portuguese. I like being the mother of the groom, too.  And I like shopping.  Great when a plan comes together.

But I digress, as usual.  There are other wedding details to settle that matter more than the garb of the benchwarmers.  Music, flowers and decorations at the church, the bouquet, . . . oh, and the invitations!  The reception/party was planned quickly and efficiently by Cecilia's mother and two aunts:  food, drinks, decorations, location, toilet paper . . . you know, all those really important things.  (You may chuckle, but come to the party and get stranded paperless in the banheiro--you won't care what color my dress is.)  With The Sisterhood of Get It Done Yesterday in high gear, Dora, Nara, and Cecilia had calls to make.

Dora called the secretary at the church reserved for the wedding, and was given a list of approved providers of floral decor and music.  Cecilia and Will envisioned a small ceremony in a beautiful spot with a few simple flowers and their favorite music played from an iPod playlist; but Dora was told that the family would not be able to provide any of these things.  So Dora began calling these florists.  The first, most highly recommended floral company was owned by--take a guess?--the church secretary.  The second florist was expensive at half the price.  Meanwhile Nara had been contacting musicians, and reported shocking quotes to Cecilia.  Then Dora found out from the half-priced florist that the chairs provided by the church were rickety, dingy, and rusty--did Dora want to consider renting chairs?  Or would she just prefer to rent chair covers?  Of course, there was a fee per chair.  The dollar signs started registering like a Texas gas pump.

Dora had flowers, Nara had music, and Cecilia had an assignment of her own.  She and Will are required by the Catholic Church to take a Curso de Noivos (a class for couples who are getting married in the Church).  Their venue required the course, but didn't offer it before their wedding.  So, on Wednesday, C called her parish church--Paroquia de Sao Judas Tadeu.  She was very warmly and genuinely received.  The Curso de Noivos was being held that weekend, and the deadline for registering was the next day.  The secretary was extremely helpful.  Yes, they could come--even with baby Daniel requiring MommyTime.  Yes, Will could definitely enroll, even though he's not Catholic.  C signed them up for the class.

With unsettling, unexpected fees for a ceremony at the first venue popping up like weekend umbrellas on Praia de Icarai, Cecilia and Will began to smell a rat about the same time I did.  This charming antique church with a knock-out view of Guanabara Bay had too many strings attached.  Serpentine tentacles, actually.  I started thinking about the way Jesus treated the money-changers in the temple.  They were there in God's house taking advantage of the people who had come to worship.  Worship required bringing an animal for the priests to sacrifice, so the vendors were there to provide what the worshipers needed, and they took the opportunity to make a killing of their own.  Jesus got righteously ticked, turned over the immoral vendors' booths, yelled at them, and forced them out of the church.  Cecilia and Will were considering their options.

After a clarifying discussion on Wednesday, Cecilia and Will determined that their wedding was to be about the sacrament of matrimony and not an event--a marriage, not an elaborate show; and they resolved not to play the hidden game required by their original venue.  All the details began to flow into place.  Sao Judas charged less than half the fee for a wedding, which included a choice of musicians and music.  And, yes, you can certainly provide your own flowers and decorations.  (Just leave the nails, thumbtacks, and glue at home, please.)  And, would you believe--Saturday, April 28th is available in the morning!

So, on Thursday, March 22nd, with the date pencilled in on St. Jude's calendar, C took Daniel and me in a taxi to talk to the money changer--uh, church secretary--at the 17th century structure.  Cecilia used her American businesswoman's assertive presence to discuss cancellation of the wedding venue.  After much pussy-footing, cajoling, and attempts at persuasion, the secretary finally accepted the fact that C was not going to hold her wedding there.  And yes, madame secretary would 'talk to the priest' to see if it were possible to refund the deposit.

On the way back home, we stopped at St. Jude's to place the reservation for 10 AM, Saturday, April 28th, 2012 in permanent ink on their wedding calendar.  Did you know that St. Jude is the patron saint of lost causes?  Sometimes God just shows off . . .......

Yesterday, Saturday March 24th, we four spent the afternoon at Paroquia de Sao Judas Tadeu.  Will and Cecilia were in their Curso de Noivos with at least a dozen other couples.  When Daniel didn't need a meal, he and I listened to choir rehearsals and attended a children's mass.  We talked to sincere, friendly, vital people.  We looked at beautiful modern stained glass and angular painted murals.  We enjoyed a guitar and voices echoing praises in the Mid-Century Modern sanctuary.  Daniel slept in my arms through his first church service--at peace, while I meditated on a larger-than-life crucifix above the altar and thought about the larger-than-life gift that God has given me--eternal life through Christ my Savior.  I thought about how I took Daniel's dad to church just the same way--wrapped in a blanket, with an extra diaper in the bag.

I must confess something.  I'm grateful for Club Fly By The Seat of Your Pants!  On Friday morning, Cecilia and I had a delightful time googling all the songs on the list available for their ceremony; she narrowed down the choices for Will to finalize with her. C and Dora are working on the details of the flowers. Hmm . . . wonder if it's possible to be a member of both organizations.  Maybe I'll just stick some Post-It notes to the seat of my pants.

Oh! The invitations? . . . .....................
Our new Dad, attentive Husband, website designing, EPub creating resident computer graphic designer is on it.  Soon.

Everyday Life

Some of you may be wondering what everyday life is like in Brasil.  Well, I can only speak for this Gringa's world in Carioca Land.  My day consists in large part of water tasks.  You know, like washing clothes and dishes and baby paraphernalia and floors and bathrooms.  All that water stuff.  The first thing I need to show you is the manner by which Cecilia and Will get their drinking water.

Glazed Terra Cotta Water Filter

Water from the faucet goes into the top and drips through 2 filters before it's captured in the bottom reservoir.  It tastes really good.  The fridge door holds two pitchers, a recycled glass juice container, and (my favorite) a recycled Absolut Vodka bottle--all keeping the precious commodity of pure drinking water.  The last thing I do each night is drain the bottom reservoir by filling up all the water containers and then load up the top with water from the faucet.  The first thing I try to do in the morning is restock the fridge bottles, and drink as many cups of water as I can straight from the reservoir.  The process gets repeated as many times each day as needed.

The Water Hole

I mentioned that water for the filtration system come from the kitchen sink.  Guess you've surmised by now that we don't drink water straight from the faucets here.  Another fact that I need to mention is, neither the kitchen sink nor the washer are plumbed for hot water.  Turn on the hot water faucet at the kitchen sink, like I've done a million and one times since arriving, and you got nothin'.  That handle is just a throw-down.

So, the dishes are washed with a sponge, cool faucet water, and plenty of Limpol dishwashing soap.  They're rinsed and set to air dry in the drainer.  If there's lots of grease on the dish, get some water boiling on the stove and oba! you've got a squeaky, grease-free container.  [My friend Kelly uses a bleach solution on all her hand-washed dishes.  Sorry, Kelly.]

Dishes and Sponges Air Dry

 As I said, water gets boiled on the propane gas stovetop.  Before Daniel arrived (BD) there were mostly kettles boiling for coffee and tea, but now . . .

. . . there's always at least one pot of water boiling/cooling or on standby for the baby.  Cecilia is nursing Little Man, so that cuts down considerably on sterilizing all that bottle stuff.  Even then, there's always a breast pump or something that needs a 10 minute boiling bath.  And speaking of baths, Daniel's bath water gets sterilized too.

Sterile Bath Water (in aluminum pot)
Fresh, Cooled, and Ready to be Warmed

We big people get to shower with water that's been heated in the apartment's hot water heater/boiler.  This is a true luxury, y'all.  The 'normal' shower head in Brasil has a small electric heater attached, and you either get cold or scalding or almost scalding.  Get Will to explain how electricity and water combined in this manner don't electrocute everyone!  I'm just grateful for the ability to mix hot and cold.   Personally, I use about a teaspoon of hot water in my shower--the cooler the better.  But again--drink water from the shower head or the bathroom faucet at your own risk; it's city water and not pure.

Since the washer uses cold water only, there are techniques for removing stubborn stains.  All involve a bar of coconut soap, a soaking tub, and the noonday sun on the back balcony.

This big sink is on the back balcony, next to the washer.
All Daniel's 'stained' (read pooped) clothes get scrubbed with a bar of coconut soap,
rinsed, and put in the soaking bucket on the left.

Cold Water Wash Supplies
A good washer, non-chlorine bleach,
liquid coconut soap for  baby clothes,
OMO laundry powder for general stuff,
liquid OLA for delicates,
and fabric softener.

Back to the water thing--Daniel's soiled (as in poopy) clothing and bedding gets the coconut bar soap scrub, soak, and then a 5 minute boil on the stove before it's washed with the other things.  Don't tell anyone, but I've been skipping the boil step here lately.  I'll start it again if you think it's necessary for Daniel's health.  What do you think?

Havaianas Wash Day

 Havaianas--probably the National Shoe of Brazil--are especially good for life here.  Cool, comfortable, stylish, and washable.  Yesterday after sweeping and mopping (again with the water!), I gathered up all the Havaianas for a wash.  See, gunk from the floors collects on the grippy soles, and then gets deposited on the just-cleaned bathroom or kitchen tile.  They're easy to scrub and dry very quickly, since they're designed for beachwear.  And they looked pretty all laid out to dry on the balcony ledge.  The tile floors stayed a little cleaner too.

Couldn't resist an "artistic" shot.

Some of Will and Cecilia's Havianas

Russian Dolls

Peacock Feathers with Silver

Daniel gave me these Havaianas when I arrived in January!

That's the briefest summary of my water tasks here.  I'm grateful for the ability to drink fresh, pure water and shower with water adjusted to my preferential temp.  I'm grateful to have a grandson whose clothes need my hands for cleaning (even for this brief time).  And I'm grateful for this lovely apartment home where I can support Cecilia and Will while they nurture their boy and the Gringa too.

Now, what's for supper?

For Grand Dad in Texas

The Gringa is here in Brasil without her Gringo.  We talk pretty much every day on Skype, and Grand Dad got to see Little Man at bath time earlier this week.  But that was the first time since Daniel's birth that the stars were aligned in such a way that Daniel was awake, not nursing, about to nurse, or crying because he wanted to nurse.  (The guy has priorities!  Filling out his long torso, arms, and legs is definitely high on the list.  Sleeping is not.)

So, this is for Grand Dad in Texas.

Dear Grand Dad,
They treat me pretty good here.  Mommy makes some crazy-good milkshakes and rocks me in the rede when I'm fussy, which is usually when I want more milkshakes.  Did I mention that she's pretty and soft and very patient with me?  I think that's love.

We swing a lot!!

Mommy lets me look out the window at the bay
when we're swinging.

I spend lots and lots of time with Mommy--sleeping and eating.  That's all really cool.

I spend time with Dad too.  He usually gets me when I'm fussy.  Did you know that he's the fastest diaper changer in the house?  I'm practically up in his arms before I know I'm down on the changing table.  He also gets to walk with me at night.  We walk for miles around the dining table, and he keeps me quiet when I don't want to sleep.  I give Dad a pretty hard time, I guess--what with all the fussing, pooping, peeing, changing, sleepwalking.

So yesterday, I decided we needed some fun time together.  A break, ya' know?

Dad showed me this silly green frog that he calls Sapo.
Dad and Mommy call me Sapo too, when I get all cranky.

My Dad is a crazy man.

I tried to clap my feet for Dad.

I think Dad loves me too.

Dad talks loud and has big hands and a scratchy face.
He can make some pretty cool animal sounds too.

I think Dad is wonderful.
Grand Dad--you did a good job showing Dad all the ropes.

Just like Mommy, Dad has lots to teach me.

But for now, we both need a nap.

Well, at least, Dad needs one.
I think I'll have another milk shake . . .

Thank you, Mommy!

Life is pretty good here.

Grand Dad, I wish you could be here with us.  GiGi keeps telling me about you, and I think we could have some fun taking naps together.  I'll grow a little more and then Mommy and Dad can bring me to see you, okay?

PS--thanks for sharing GiGi with me.

Parque da Cidade

On Sunday afternoon, Dora and her best friend Nara took me on a wedding errand and a 'touristy' stop.

We were on a mission to find out some information from The Church of Sao Francisco Xavier where Cecilia and Will are to be married on April 28th.  Their reservation has been made, but info about flowers, music, and other blanks needed to be filled in.  Off we went!

Our first stop was lunch.
We didn't eat here, but the facade of this building in Sao Francisco
fascinated me.  See all the letters?

The Igreja de Sao Francisco Xavier was built in the 17th century.  It's architecture is Colonial.

Dora and Nara walk on the cobblestone plaza of the church.

The wedding will be outdoors--weather permitting.  Cecilia will enter the plaza through these green doors and walk across the plaza.  Down the steps she'll come.

These steps provide amphitheater seating.
Don't worry--there will be chairs! 

The view from the chairs where we'll be sitting is beautiful with a 'capital B'!  We'll be looking at the priest, bride and groom; and beyond them is Guanabara Bay.

The altar where the priest will stand with Cecilia and Will
overlooks Guanabara Bay.

Fortunately, April 28th will be autumn in Brasil.  The rainy month of March will be past and temperatures will be very temperate!  Pray for no rain on that day.

Stone window frames in this stucco church
were built over 300 years ago.

From the church, Dora and Nara wanted me to see Niteroi from a different viewpoint.  With Nara's little car in first gear, we ascended a mountain--up numerous ear-popping switchbacks--to Parque da Cidade.

Visitors' Center

In the treetops above Niteroi, I caught glimpses of the view.

Clues to the Drama

Sculpture in Parque da Cidade

Niteroi from Above the Treetops

Breathtaking

Rio in the Distance

Two Lagoons

A Lagoon and the Atlantic

Worship in the Park

Nara (l) and Dora (r) have been friends for over 35 years.

The Gringa with Nara

New Friendships
Amazing Views

BTW--see the couple sitting on the broad yellow stripe of concrete?  There's nothing on the other side of that yellow stripe but a drop down the mountainside.  Guess they didn't want to block the view . . .

This was my first day as a Gringa tourist in Brasil.  We had lunch together in Sao Francisco at a cafe that serves buffet style and charges by the kilo.  Great idea--don't know why it hasn't caught on in the States.  Then we stopped for dessert at an ice cream shop that's truly self-serve.  You look at all the flavors, you dip your own choice/s (my two scoops were Mango Sorbet and Ovalmaltine), you take it to the register to be weighed.   After our wedding errand and the park visit, Nara delivered Dora and me back to the Icarai apartment.  There was dinner to be made, and Dora had a special request from Cecilia.