Back to school. Friday August 26th, 2011

Back to school in the United States is an annual ritual. The list of supplies needed arrives and off we trot to the stationery store and load up. Each year there is a new back pack and lunch box to be bought. In fact, if l had kept all the lunch boxes over the years, there would be a chronology of life as seen through Disney Princesses, Thomas the Tank Engine, Super heroes and finally the non descript generic type that are indistinguishable from everyone else’s.

Now it is different. University for Charles and boarding school for Emma. These days, we order on line and, as much as possible we have everything sent so that we don’t have to move everything from one continent to the other.

Last Monday evening we left Brazil to start our 2 week trip to the United States. The day before, we had had a fabulous afternoon at the horse racing in Sao Paulo, but sadly the oysters that were consumed in great numbers by the other members of the Merrick family decided to make reappearance and the children started being sick on the flight. There is not a lot that you can do when someone is being sick around you, so I’m afraid I was the heartless mother and left them to it. Even the ginger ale that they drank to try and quell their discomfort had no effect and I pity the poor cleaners that had to go in a face the mess – ugh.

But the good news was, on arriving in Princeton at around 9 am, the hotel let us check in and I was able to leave the children to sleep off their discomfort, whilst I ran around town at the usual doctors, dentists, hairdressers and opticians.

I think New Jersey was trying to tell me that I wasn't welcome, because on our first afternoon as I was sitting in the chair at the opticians, we had an earthquake. Now it has to be said that it was nothing on the scale of the earthquake in Turkey, but enough to shake the building and make the doors swing open, and earthquakes are not an everyday occurrence in New Jersey so it was pretty big news.

The next day, the children felt better and we were able to resume our schedule of shopping and organizing and getting ready for back to school. Did you know that after Christmas, back to school shopping is the biggest boost to the retail economy? I suppose it doesn’t surprise me and I certainly felt as though I has added several percentage points to America’s GDP.

On Thursday we were on the road, heading down to Washington DC. The plan was to check into the hotel, unload everything not belonging to Charles, then take him to University and unload his things. He had arranged with a friend to store a bunch of things at a lock up storage unit in Virginia. To save money they had found one about 25 miles away. Half way there, they came to the conclusion that next year they will find one closer to the university, even if it does mean they have to pay an extra $10 each. This place was miles away. An hour’s drive there and back plus the best part of an hour to load up – we could have done without that. But we managed. We hit Washington DC during the rush hour – another note to self.

The next part of our plan was for Emma and I to go to visit a friend in Virginia, leaving Washington on Friday morning and leaving Virginia on Sunday morning. After that, the plan was to fly out to Nova Scotia for a few days before heading back to New Jersey in time to put Emma into school next weekend. But, looming over us was the little matter of Hurricane Irene coming up from the south and heading for the eastern coast of the US over a period of several days. Heading south to Virginia didn’t seem like a good idea. I thought about going to Virginia as planned on Friday and leaving early on Saturday, but by Friday morning the predictions were pretty dire so I decided to abandon Virginia and leave Friday morning for New Jersey.

I had called of time and made a reservation at a hotel and checked in around 1.30pm. I called the airline and changed my Monday morning flight to Canada to Saturday morning, and, thinking that we had a leisurely afternoon ahead, Emma and I wandered into Princeton, had lunch, a manicure and a spot of shopping before heading back to the hotel around 5.30pm.

I check my emails and to my horror, there was one from the airline to say that my flight was cancelled and I needed to call the airline. I knew that the airport was due to be closed on Saturday afternoon but I thought that we would be okay to leave Saturday morning –no such luck. Of course the world and his wife were trying to get through to the help desk but after what seemed like an inordinate amount of time I managed to speak to a human being. Dilemma explained and the only solution was to try and make a flight leaving in 3 hours and 10 minutes. I looked at Emma. Can we make this? “Yes,” she said.

I had planned that Friday evening would be spent repacking suitcases, organizing ourselves, having a leisurely dinner and an early night. No chance. Packing, clearing the room, depositing one suitcase and checking out – 10 minutes. Route 1 north in the rush hour (normal time 25 minutes) – 45 minutes. New Jersey Turnpike (normal time 20 – 25 minutes) – 14 minutes. Don’t ask what speed I was going. I hope there were no speed cameras. Refueling and returning rental car – 12 minutes. Argument with rental car agent about being charged for 2 days unused rental – not worth dealing with.

Elite check in? Not worth the “Elite” label. Today the check in area was a complete zoo. There were people getting so frustrated it was unbelievable. You would think the world was coming to an end. Flights were being cancelled all over the place and the inadequacy of the staff to be able to handle the overwhelming volume of queries, cancellations, rebookings and irate customers was unbelievable.

Emma and I were very lucky. When a kiosk was free, we were able to log in, check in, print boarding cards and luggage labels very quickly. Getting a member of the ground staff to put said labels on the bags, not so easy. Then they just sat on the scales. I would have moved them myself but a burly porter came up to move some bags from one trolley to the belt and a few dollars changing hands meant that my bags also made it onto the belt.

One quick look at the boarding passes made me realize that we were in the wrong terminal. The gate had been changed and we were 2 terminals away. Okay, time to catch the air train. Terminal C here we come.

As I have mentioned before, I have an artificial hip so airport security is always a nightmare for me. The new full body scanners that are causing so much controversy at the security checks are a bonus for me. No need for the full body pat downs. No such luck today. The machines were being “upgraded” and therefore not in use. Back to the full body pat down.

Emma and I now have this routine down to a science. I stand and wait and she loads everything back into bags. Only this time a present we had bought for our hostess, had caused the alarm bells to go off and she was distracted trying to find out what in her back pack was causing so much interest. Time was ticking – about 15 minutes to be precise.

But we made it to the gate by 8.15. Boarding time 8.20 – phew. We were able to contact our hostess and miraculously she was there to meet us. It was midnight when we landed, 2.30 am by the time we made it to her cottage and about 3 am by the time we flopped into bed.

Having woken up this morning in Washington DC thinking about heading south to Virginia, we found ourselves about a thousand miles further north. Sad not to be in Virginia but happy to be missing Irene.

One child down and one to go.

You know when

You know when something has become a habit, only when circumstances change that draws attention to what you are doing. For example, this week we drove from Heathrow to the West Country in a car that was so ladened down with luggage that I couldn’t see out of the rear window when looking in the rear view mirror. I can’t tell you how many times I tilted my head to look, only to see the same grey mass of luggage. Every time I looked, I reminded myself that there was no point in doing it, only to do it again a minute or two later. Here is a perfect example. Something that is so automatic, that only when I can’t see what I am expecting to see, do I remind myself that I have done something “out of habit”.

I find it amazing how quickly we pick up habits without realising that they are habits, and slot back into them as soon as the opportunity arises.

I have now been out of Brazil for all of a week. Some things are as automatic as breathing. I amazed myself that after 6 months of not driving, I slid behind the wheel of my rental car at Newark airport and drove to Princeton as if I had driven the day before. It was absolutely automatic – where to go, which lane to drive in, how to get onto the New Jersey Turnpike and, most of all how to drive. The human brain is amazing.

So I arrived at a friend’s house for a shower and change and I was sitting on the loo. Automatically, I was looking for a sign that would tell me whether I should put my loo roll down the loo or in the bin. I couldn’t see a sign so I automatically looked around for a small, covered bin, with a plastic bag to take the said loo roll. It was a split second before I remembered “ahh, I’m not in Brazil”. So down the loo it was flushed. It has taken me the best part of a week not to automatically check for signs or a bin and to realize that in this part of the world, it is okay to flush the loo roll down the loo.

Another example. I was in a public loo, and after washing my hands, reached for the paper towels. I hesitated for a moment before pulling a couple of sheets. The reason for the hesitation? Well, in Brazil there is usually a sign posted to the front of the paper towel dispenser telling you how many sheets of paper is should take to dry your hands. Not that the number bears any resemblance to the actual number needed. I automatically add at least one sheet for good measure. No, it is usually only a general guide. Two is the most common number but I have seen one. At the Jockey Club, the paper towels are so luxurious and thick; one towel could easily be passed between several people if it weren’t unhygienic. But back to my dilemma, how many paper towels to pull. Two to start with and three to be on the safe side.

Not long afterwards, we went to a restaurant. I automatically put my handbag on the chair next to me, until I realized that someone needed the chair to sit on. There is a superstition in Brazil, that you never put your handbag on the floor in case the “money runs away”. (Steve also assures me that in the Men’s room, there are shelves above the urinals for a briefcase so that they don’t have to be put on the floor.) So having picked up my bag, I looked around for a waiter to bring me a chair for my handbag. Obviously, that wasn’t going to happen and the penny dropped again that I was no longer in Brazil. There, a waiter would rush over with a chair, take my bag and either tie it with special handbag ties, or cover it with a serviette. Damn, the floor it will have to be – sorry bag.

After the meal, the bill came. Six of us around the table and only one total. Where was the additional total I needed, with 10 percent tip added and the total number divided by the number of people present so that we each know how much to pay. Mental arithmetic needed – ugh.

I remember when we lived in Sweden I read “10 everyday facts that meant that you have lived here too long”. It is far too long ago now to recall them, but there is one that absolutely sticks in my memory. “You know that you have lived in Sweden too long when you buy candles at the grocery store every week, even when you haven’t put them on your shopping list”. I read this when I first arrived and thought, “no, not me”. Sure enough, by the middle of the first white winter (there are only two seasons in Sweden, the white winter and the green winter) I was buying candles every week.

In the Philippines, the bathroom was called the Comfort Room. I remember coming home to the UK after having lived there only a few months and asking the way to the “Comfort Room” Stares all around - I was clearly mad.

So for everyone that has moved from one place to another I am sure you will be able to relate to something along the lines of the comments above. The good news is that habits can be dropped very quickly once you are removed from a particular situation. On the flip side. I guess they can be picked up again just as quickly.

Now off to the shops – again. Which side of the car to get into and which side of the road to drive on? Hmmmm.

Clean Air

I’m sitting in the airport lounge waiting for a flight to the States – New Jersey to be precise. It has been six and a half months since I have been there, and I know that when I reach Princeton it will be as if I have never been away. I should land at around six in the morning, pick up a rental car and drive to a friend’s house. Then a shower and change of clothes and a lovely morning playing bridge with friends. I am then off to pick up Emma and we have three days of all sorts of appointments planned before heading off to the UK mid week.

But the title of this blog is “Clean Air”. It is winter in Brazil, so that means that there is very little rain. The air quality is pretty dismal at the best of times, and for me personally, the pollution gives me all the symptoms of seasonal allergies. I take anti-histamine every morning and drops in my eyes to help with the itching. When I get in the car with Marcelo, I have to reassure him that it is only allergies, and not the dreaded “gripe”.

I recently read that the air quality in Sao Paulo is so bad that by living here, one’s life expectancy is reduced by anything up to three years. I guess there are ways of measuring such a claim, but I work on the principle that if we are only here for a few years, it probably won’t make much difference.

Sao Paulo is a city of around 10 million people. You can double that number if you include the metropolitan area. It is the 7th largest city in the world by population, but that said, every time there is a census somewhere in the world, those numbers change. There are 6 and a half million cars, or 9 million cars in the metropolitan area. Those numbers increase every day. Sao Paulo is a concrete jungle with construction going on absolutely everywhere. I recently read that the Government is actually holding back construction, because they are waiting for a new hydro-electric power station to come on stream. Until that happens, there is concern that the electricity supply system won’t be able to cope with all the new offices, apartments and shopping centers that are springing up everywhere.

There is a street of Favelas (slums), in one part of the city that I drive past very often. Marcelo pointed to them the other day and told me that each of the occupiers were being offered R$ 100,000 (about US$ 60,000) to move out. Imagine, living on under US$ 10 per day and being offered US$ 60,000 to move – a king’s ransom. But the profit to the developer is many multiples of that sum. A low rise Favela is cleared, an office block or apartment building rises.

More worrying to me than the quality of the air is the information that I also recently read, about the quality of the water. We have a reservoir to the south of the city which I assume is fed from the Pinheiros River that runs through the centre of the city. This river is really a large canal which, I have no doubt, takes all the runoff water that is discharged through the drainage system. Sadly it seems it also takes all the raw sewage from the Favelas.


With a city of 10 million people, the water treatment plants are under enormous strain, so the advice is not to drink the water. We have a filter jug that I use for making tea and coffee, etc, but for cooking I usually just run the tap. Now it seems that I shouldn’t be using straight tap water for cooking but instead, should be using the filtered stuff. I suppose the same rules apply to brushing teeth, and making sure that any water we take to drink during the night is also filtered. I dread to think what the tap water is doing to our insides. We have always made ice using filtered water but now I have to really think about all the other uses of water in our daily lives.

Last Tuesday there was a rain storm. It was unusual in its ferocity and that fact that we are in the middle of the dry and cold season. It has been really cold here, and for the first time I have been wearing winter clothes and layers of them.

But back to the storm. It lasted several hours and the consequence was that many areas of the city lost power. My friend was without power for 20 hours. It was a cold shower for her husband that morning. Marcelo told me that he had arrived at my house at 6 in the morning because he had no power at his house and wanted to use the shower in his bathroom in my basement.

With no power, there are no traffic lights and as Brazilians are bad drivers at the best of times the added complications of rain and no traffic lights is just a recipe for disaster and delays. Steve took about forty minutes to get home – it is a journey that normally takes 10 – 15 minutes.

But, notwithstanding all of the problems, I am still enjoying living in Brazil That said, I am very happy to be travelling to New Jersey to experience clean air in my lungs, water that I don’t have to filter and drivers that know the right side of the road on which to drive.

Reality check 4

I have a friend in the States, well actually several friends all over the place, who think I was mad to move to this country. Why give up my very gentile, suburban lifestyle in the States for the concrete jungle that is Sao Paulo. Throw in the pollution, language, traffic jams, cultural differences, and security issues, not to mention the separation from the children and I’m sure that my friends thought I was totally off my rocker.

So far, everything has been manageable. I have a really great group of friends, a house that is close enough to the office that means Steve’s commute is very easy and of course I have Marcelo. The children come often enough and I travel often enough to see them, that we are all pleased to see each other when we do meet up. They are both in great places and it fills my heart with happiness when in answer to the question “how are you?” the answer is generally “Fine.” I have found enough bridge, have started flower arranging (how middle aged and middle class can one get?) and am struggling to keep the weight off with all the lunches and dinners that I have.

As I type this, Charles and Steve are both home, dinner is in the oven and a glass of wine is going down very nicely thank you.

But this week there was yet another security incident that brought home the reality and the proximity of the dangers of living here. So far, everything I have heard about has been “somewhere else”. This week however, there was an incident right on my door step. In fact, it was at the other end of my street.

It seems that a gang of armed robbers decided to rob a house, and, having neatly parked their car, waved their guns, including a rifle and entered a house. Two residents inside the house were tied up and, I guess, the robbers set about their task. Fortunately, someone saw what was happening and alerted the police so by the time the robbers were making their get-away, the police were waiting. I’m not sure if they waited until the robbers were in the car before shooting or whether the police shot them as they were exiting the house, but in any event, a fire-fight took place, the window of the car was shot out and one of the robbers took a direct hit.

The other robbers it seems managed to escape. Give me a clue how that happened? According to Marcelo - who it has to be said was beside himself with the details - the police will be able to trace the rest of the gang by the license plate of the car they abandoned.

Now, it turns out that at the point at which this had literally just happened, a friend was driving down the exact road where this incident was taking place. At that time, the robber on the ground was still alive, but according to my friend, he really didn’t have long to live. She is a nurse, and in good British style - or maybe a moment of temporary insanity, was all set to stop and see if she could give any assistance to the man on the ground. Good thing she thought better of it – the man on the ground wasn’t going to live and getting involved with the Sao Paulo police is probably not a good idea. She turned the car around and headed off in the opposite direction pretty quickly.

Yesterday evening, a student at the local university had just started walking back towards his car when he was approached by a robber who wanted, I guess, wallet, watch, credit cards etc... The student, who was walking with another guy, didn’t hand them over and by all accounts started to protest. For his troubles, he was shot in the head, and, not surprisingly, he died. It turns out that there is a general feeling that security at this university is a bit lax to say the least, to the point that the father of the dead student had bought him a bullet proof car.

Just think about that, a student being bought a car by a parent is nothing new, but a bullet proof car – well that is something different. The bullet proofing alone costs around US$ 18000.00. Trust me I know as we have just had a new car which I am happy to say is bullet proof. I guess in the end it didn’t do Felipe any good.

So, more vigilance, more places on the list of where not to go to, and another prayer that we are never in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Whatever they are paying us, it really isn’t enough.

Security nightmare 3

I had a Portuguese lesson this morning at 9 o’clock, but for various boring reasons I was early. Such are the inconveniences of sharing a car and driver. I had arrived thirty five minutes early and was reading a “Hello” magazine (well maybe looking at the pictures as it was in Portuguese), when she came in, about half an hour early. She is usually about 5 minutes early, but never half an hour.

My initial reaction that she had the time wrong – strange because I always have the lesson at 9.am on Tuesdays, but it turns out that she had to take the bus – hence her early arrival.

I wondered why she took the bus – and then the story emerged.

It turns out that last Friday, during the day, her husband was using her car and was driving along a main road, in front of the local shopping centre about 2 miles from my house. (I regularly go to this shopping centre as it is the closest place for Starbucks Coffee.) He had stopped for the traffic lights when someone tapped on his window asking for “help”.

The next minute, someone had appeared at the passenger window with a gun and with that, they, hopped in the car and instructed the husband to go into the shopping centre. Armed with his credit cards and pin numbers, one of the robbers then proceeded to spend several thousand Reais (R$) whilst my teacher’s husband was held “hostage” in the car.

They then drove to another shopping centre and an ATM machine and basically the robbers spent everything they could up to the limit of all the cards. This is called a “lightening kidnapping” here in Brazil.

The bad news is that my Portuguese teacher and her husband are now several thousand R$ out of pocket and the car was stolen so they now don’t have any transport – hence the bus ride to my lesson. In addition, the insurance companies, it seems, are very wary of claims purporting to be from people who have had their cars stolen in this manner and want to wait at least 30 days to see if it actually turns up, before paying out.

The good news is that my teacher’s husband was shaken but unharmed in the process. They could so easily have just pulled the trigger and she would now be a widow. A friend of ours has a secretary whose close family member was not so lucky. Two gunmen jumped into his car and shot him. The gunmen then rode around with an injured passenger, and instead of letting him go and get treatment, they let him bleed to death.

My teacher was quite understandably upset by the whole event. Which made me think how lucky I am to have not only a bullet proof car but also an armed bodyguard.

This week there have been several visitors to my husband’s office from the United States. For several weeks now, Marcelo has been training a number of other drivers, not only as a relief for him but also for weeks such as this when multiple drivers and cars are needed. The security and logistics making sure that these people have the protection that they need, whilst being at the right place at the right time has, I’m sure, caused a few headaches.

For me, the inconvenience of arriving half an hour early for my Portuguese lesson is absolutely a price worth paying. Remind me not to grumble next time.

Royal Wedding

There are some things that we Brits do really well. When it comes to pageantry we are surely the world leaders, and so is knowing how to have a party. Put the two together and the result is absolutely amazing.

Several months ago, when the Royal Wedding was announced, a few of us here in Sao Paulo decided to get together to watch it. A friend here has the technology to not only get the BBC but also to be able to record it, so the idea was hatched that we would drink champagne, have fun and critique the event.

Then, more people heard about the idea, and so it began to snowball. The guest list grew and another friend, who as it turns out wasn’t even in Brazil for the great day, had the idea of turning it into a fundraiser for one of our favourite local charities.

The party now began to get some serious traction. The guest list grew and grew. Tables would have to be hired, then crockery, glasses and silverware. What about flowers, banners, flags and bunting? Everyone contributed. Maids, drivers and bodyguards were drafted to help and all of a sudden, it was the hottest ticket in town.

The charity we were supporting is called ACER. (Check out www.acerbrasil.org.br).

In English, it is the Association for Children at Risk, and is run by a fabulous English guy here. The aim of the charity is to help families by promoting dignity, good health and hygiene. They help in the region of 3,000 people and their reach is expanding all the time. In a country where there is little in the way of Government support, this sort of charity is absolutely indispensible.

Twice a year they hold bazaars, and the families can buy very inexpensive household items that have been donated. Some of the basic essentials of life that we take for granted, such as towels and blankets, cooking pots and plates, are for many families, out of reach because of the high cost of living here. Enabling people to buy these items promotes all of the above aims. They enhance their dignity because they are buying items themselves (rather than just receiving charitable hand outs) and thereby have the sense that they are providing for their families. Something simple such as each family member having their own towel promotes the dual aims of health and hygiene. And, for children that often have to sleep in the same bed as their siblings, to have their own personal sheet or blanket is an absolute necessity.

So, the idea was born that everyone coming to the wedding party would bring a wedding gift of a donation to the bazaar. In the end, we had a room full of pots and pans, sheets and blankets, children’s toys and clothes. It truly was amazing.

Now, a couple of days before the event, the hostess had a phone call to ask whether she would be willing to allow the Brazilian press to come and film us having our party. More great publicity for the charity so of course the answer was “yes”.

As it turned out, the three main TV stations all sent crews and how they didn’t all fall over themselves and more to the point how we didn’t all fall over the wires, lights and cameras is a minor miracle.

They were interviewing everyone that could speak Portuguese - lucky escape there I thought. In fact, I heard that the TV crews were so keen to cover the wedding; they had telephoned the British Consulate to ask for the names of anyone in the British community that could speak really good Portuguese. They were contacting these people and asking them if they could turn up at 5 o’clock in the morning to interview people as the wedding was going out live from London. Everyone I spoke to gave an emphatic “No”. We all compared notes afterwards and at 5 o’clock in the morning we were in pajamas with a cup of tea and a box of hankies at the ready. TV crews were definitely not wanted.

The great day arrived and the house looked beautiful. Bunting was hanging everywhere and the champagne was on ice. Everyone was encouraged to dress as if to go to a wedding, and tiaras, hats and fascinators were the order of the day.

I have to say that it was a truly fabulous event, and against the backdrop of very happy occasion in London, everyone had a good time.

Even without realizing it, the new Duke and Duchess of Cambridge have also contributed to this charity. It seems that they received a Wedding gift of a unique piece of jewellery, crafted by a local Brazilian jeweler. In keeping with their wishes that charities benefit from their marriage, this piece has been donated to the ACER charity, and in October, when we hold our main fundraiser for the year, we will auction the brooch and the proceeds will be donated to ACER.

How fitting.

Useless Jobs. Saturday April 23, 2011

You can tell you live in a low wage economy by the sort of jobs that people are (presumably) paid to do.

Our first experience of low wages was our stint in the Philippines. In fact, having worked in London and having spent most of my salary on nannies, cleaners, ironing ladies and gardeners, when Steve asked “how do you fancy a move to the Philippines?” my first thought was “Filipino maids”.

At one time during our stint there, there were 13 on the payroll. We had four guards in rotation, a driver, a pool boy, a gardener, two live in maids, and then on a periodic basis, a cook, sewing lady, manicurist and a masseuse. They were all very good, very cheap and made our lives very easy.

We encountered a number of jobs that made one wonder, why on earth is someone paid to do that? Of course the answer is that it is so inexpensive to employ someone, it makes sense to do it. So here is a selection of jobs that we came across.

Golf is an ever growing sport in the Philippines, but is the preserve of the wealthy. At the driving range, there are young girls whose job it is to tee up the ball to save you the trouble of having to bend down and do it yourself. Mind you, they don’t have tees. Instead they have a trowel and a little pile of mud and beautifully craft a tee using the trowel and their fingers. Just imaging sitting on the ground, hoping that a golfer hits the ball and not you.

Also on the golf courses, as well as a caddy, you often find young women holding umbrellas to keep the sun off the golfers. The Japanese living in Manila would also have someone carrying a large container of ice – not exactly sure what they did with it, but sometimes you would find yourself putting around a small mound of ice on the green. In fact, you could always tell a group of Japanese golfers – it would look as if small army was invading the green. As Steve always justified, to himself and anyone else that questioned “why would you pay someone to do that?” Well, it gives them employment, a purpose to get out of bed in the morning and maybe they will find a rich husband.

In Turkey, it used to be young boys doing these sorts of jobs – particularly shoe shine boys who would appear on every corner and try and overcharge you for cleaning your shoes. A few well chosen words of Turkish were usually enough.

New Jersey cannot be said to be a low wage economy, but even here, we never had to fill our petrol/gas tanks because the law decrees that in New Jersey at least, there had to be a pump attendant to do it for you at no extra cost. Imagine my horror in driving into a gas station in Washington DC and being charged 50 cents per gallon extra to have someone fill my tank. I couldn’t get back to New Jersey quickly enough.

And so to Sao Paulo, which has to be the leader in employing people to do things that one can easily do oneself. One of my favourites is driving into a car park where you have to push a button to obtain the ticket that opens the barrier. Here, not only do you have someone to push the button for you, but they even do it where the parking is free. There is then another person at the exit ready to take your ticket from you and insert it into the slot to raise the barrier and let you out. One morning I was with some friends and the woman taking the tickets was plucking hairs out of her chin as she waited for drivers to come along and hand her their tickets. Obviously business was slow that day.

In the park where I walk the dog there are public toilets dotted around the place. Regularly, there are ladies stationed inside the toilets handing out toilet paper. Now, I could understand if the paper was:

a. Worth stealing or
b. Needed to be limited because people take too much

But here is the thing - the paper is so disgusting, no one would want to steal it and secondly, the amount they give you if far more that you could even need. So why bother? It- beats me

In Sao Paulo, there is a great attempt to preserve what little bit of green space there is left. It has to be said that there isn’t much but in the centre of the roads, they try to preserve grass verges. They have yet to hear of sit-on mowers, or in fact, mowers of any description for that matter. Instead, they use weed whackers/strimmers which is quite ridiculous when you think of the size of the city. In addition to the guys that are actually doing the weed whacking, there are usually a couple of guys holding a big green screen between where the work is being done and the road – presumably to stop any grass being blown onto the oncoming traffic. So for every weed whacker, there are two more guys to protect the public.

There are a lot of houses and apartments for sale around us. There are realtors offices dotted around the city and outside the houses there are signs to denote which realtor is listing the house. But in addition, most houses for sale that are empty, have a sun shade outside, and every day, someone comes and opens the house and then sits there, all day, waiting for people to come and look at the house. There is one road near us where the same realtor is listing three houses and outside each one is a sun shade and a man sitting there. You think within the space of 100 yards, one person could look after all three, but clearly not.

At the weekend you see kids standing at the street corners with signs hanging from their necks shaped as arrows pointing towards a new development of apartments being sold. It makes me think that is cheaper to employ someone all day, than the cost of putting up a static sign pointing the way. They always look bored to death as they stand in amongst the traffic and swing their arrows.

But the best job I have come across has to be the guy at Burger King. We have a drive through Burger King but whoever developed the site, didn’t have enough room to do a regular drive through. Instead, there is a turn table. They employ someone to wave you onto a turntable and then run into his kiosk and press a switch that turns your car through 90 degrees or so, and then waves you off so that you can buy your burger. I have known people that have no desire to eat a hamburger, but the whole experience of being lined up on a turntable in a car and moved, is worth the price of a burger.

Only in Sao Paulo!

Stress. Friday March 4th, 2011

Steve was away in the States a couple of weeks ago at a love-in for the senior execs at his company. He came back to tell me about a session they had had on stress. Each delegate was handed a questionnaire and asked to honestly answer “yes” or “no” to a series of questions. These included ---

Do you wake up in the morning feeling tired?
Do you eat dinner but not taste it or care what it is?
Do you go to bed worrying about all the things that you haven’t done?
Do you find that you lack the time to do the things you enjoy?
Do you not have time for your family?
Do you find that you have to drink alcohol to help you sleep?
Do you feel irritable at trivial things?

And so on.

Steve answered yes to precisely zero questions and looked at the other execs around him who clearly had answered yes to most and were worried by the result.

Steve’s life is very uncomplicated. He has two things to worry about. His job – obviously - and his golf handicap. For everything else there is me to take the strain.

We decided long ago in our marriage that when I gave up work, he would be the wage earner and I would take on the task of trying to do everything else.

Moving house? When would I like the packers to come? Tax returns? Where does Steve sign them? Children, vacations, life- the universe- Steve needs it organized for him. Tell him where and when to turn up and he is fine. Ask him to organize anything outside of work and golf and he is lost.

There was an occasion a few years ago when we had to move from France to the United States very rapidly. We news came in in Mid August that we would be leaving in September. Let’s think about that. Two kids to get into private schools for the start of the school year. What’s the expression? The impossible is okay – miracles take a bit longer”. Okay, check that one off. Three days into the packing process, Steve calls from the office. It seems that we can’t leave France without filing out French tax returns. So do I have all the info to hand? Do I what????

Okay unpack a few boxes – check. Several hours of filing tax returns – check. Back to the packing.

See what I mean? For any wife who is clearly the power behind the throne, this blog is dedicated to you.

A couple of weeks ago, Steve announced that we had to file Brazilian Tax returns stating everything that we could lay claim to outside of Brazil. We got to work. Steve sat and entered the data whilst I supplied it. No mention was made of having to provide the paperwork to back this up, just a statement of how much and where.

Fast forward a couple of weeks. We were required to provide paper documentation of what there is and where it is. The email arrived on Friday afternoon and as we were leaving Saturday morning for a weekend away, we ignored it.

We got back on Sunday afternoon and Steve announced that he would “leave it to me to sort out on Monday”. I was out Monday morning and returned Monday afternoon to set about the task of finding the information and providing paperwork. Monday of course being the deadline for the accountants. It seems that the Government had brought forward the deadline by a few months.


I have long since given up having paper statements for such mundane things as bank accounts and investments, but obviously, the Brazilian tax authorities have yet to catch up with the eco- agenda. We were leaving Tuesday morning for a few days in the north of Brazil, but all this information had to be sorted that afternoon.

It took me six and a half hours of internet searches, downloading and printing. To say I was tearing my hair out was a slight understatement.

So when people say to me, “do you work?” my answer is always the same.

“Yes I do work – I just don’t get paid”.

As for my husband’s stress levels – nonexistent.

Hairdressers 2 Friday February 11, 2011

Whenever I go to the hairdresser, Steve always pays me a back handed compliment of sorts, by failing to notice. He works on the principle that if he hasn’t noticed, then it can’t be all bad. This of course is an absolute load of rubbish because the day I went from blonde to brunette he also failed to notice, but if it makes him feel better, so be it.

Today I had my hair done in Sao Paulo for the first time. Rodriguez was recommended by a friend and so with a certain amount of trepidation, I went along. Thank goodness my previous hairdresser had written down the formula for the colours that she used and when I presented them to Rodriguez, he happily went away to start mixing. In the meantime I was handed the smallest of robes and the girl pointed to a changing cubicle. Was I supposed to get undressed? I thought better of it and wrapped it around me as best I could. It covered very little so just as well I had kept everything on underneath. ( I did later see a man taking his robe into the changing cubicle and came out a minute later baring a very hairy chest – not a pretty sight).

Just before I arrived at the salon, I discovered that I had left my cell phone at home and so dispatched Marcelo to go and get it for me. Now, you have to realize that Marcelo only ever sees me glammed up and ready for the day. The only occasion that he has seen me without make up and dressed was the day he arrived at the house at 5.30 in the morning to pick up the car to go to the airport to collect Steve, only to discover that he didn’t have the car keys and needed the spares. He called on the phone to request the spares, and I couldn’t bear the thought that he would see me looking, well like I had just got out of bed. I almost handed him the keys through the window of the garage but thought better of it and so he (very) briefly saw me. Not sure who was the most embarrassed.

But back to today. By the time Marcelo came back with the cell phone, Rodriguez was well stuck in and there were bits of plastic stuck to my head. Not a pretty sight. Marcelo walked in, dark suit and not sure why he would wear them indoors but dark glasses as well. All that was missing was the ear piece thingy that you see in the movies. I would have given anything for him not to see me like this but a girl has to have her cell phone.

Okay, now here is a question that anyone living outside Brazil would struggle to answer. How many people does it take to do a woman’s hair? Well, it depends. I had two people doing the colour – both at once. I could see they were going to fight over the bit at the top where they were about to collide but seniority prevailed. Then I was whisked over to the basin and invited to lay stretched out while two more people removed the foils. A wash and condition later I was then invited into the massage chair for a quick five minute neck massage. I have to say that after having lain in what has to be the most uncomfortable of washbasins (clearly designed by a man); a five minute massage was just wonderful.

Then it was off to be cut and then two people to blow dry the hair. Rodriguez finished off, clearly wanting to be sure of the R$ 20 tip that he probably knew would be forthcoming from the “foreigner”.

The woman sitting next to me was having her nails and feet manicured so she had an extra two attendants. There were men coming a going, enjoying the same treatment so as far as I was concerned all dignity was lost.

The result, I have to say is not too bad. I actually felt reassured that I have found a hairdresser that did an okay job. Even better, I would go back to him.

But coming back to the original point, Steve paid me the usual compliment by not noticing.

Cockroaches. Thursday 10 February, 2011

There is a song with the lyrics “I don’t like spiders and snakes,” which, according to Google was recorded in 1974 by Jim Stafford. I remember it well – I was a teenager at the time and because, I really don’t like spiders and snakes.

One of the first questions I ask whenever we go to a new country is “what is the situation regarding spiders and snakes?” So far I have been very lucky. Lots of mosquitoes, geckos and large looking flies, but nothing that resembles a snake or a large spider. Quite honestly it would probably finish me off.

Cockroaches on the other hand are all too common in hot climes. The first time I saw one of any size was when I opened a kitchen cupboard door in Manila and one flew out at me. It was large, about 2 inches (5 cm) in length and pretty revolting. The scream that emitted from me alerted the maids and the guards and it was hastily dispatched with a deft blow from a flip flop. I knew there was a good reason why everyone wears flip-flops. They make the perfect weapon in the battle against bugs. I have even seen them mounted on the end of sticks to give an extra pliable whack.

In the United States there are screens on all the windows and doors to keep the critters out and they are surprisingly successful. We really didn’t have a problem although I suspect in hotter parts of the country there would be. One reason why I have always been nervous about visiting Australia is that it is said that there are more natural creatures that can kill you there than any other place on the planet. Note to self – don’t retire to Australia.

So far in Brazil I have been unaffected. The only snake I have seen was dead in the middle of the road. And as for bugs, well, not too bad. Until, that is, the other day. Steve had gone to bed early not feeling too well so I was creeping in the bathroom trying to keep quiet when an enormous cockroach ran across the floor. Suppressing a scream, I watched it climb down the drain in the floor so I quickly dropped a few heavy magazines on top of the drain and ran to get the bug spray. Maddeningly it didn’t spray – obviously it had run out. In fact it hadn’t but I didn’t realize that the arrows had to be aligned and in the dark subdued light didn’t see what was needed.

The next day I asked Marcelo what I needed to get rid of cockroaches. “High-dge”, came the reply. What is “high-dge?” I asked. “Spray”, came the reply.

Okay, I have no idea what I am looking for but after a further discussion I established that this wonder product can be bought at Wal –Mart.

Off we set and I duly went looking for “High-dge”. I got to the aisle where the bug spray is kept and the penny dropped. “Raid” is what I needed – “high-dge” being the Portuguese pronunciation. Silly me.

Now, it seems that there must be a big cockroach problem in Sao Paulo because I can honestly say there were shelves after shelves stacked floor to above head height offering a huge variety of different sprays. There was “extra strong” “extra reach” “extra effective”. You name it there was a superlative for it.

I mentioned my cockroach to some friends a few days later and it seems that part of the problem is all those magazines I keep neatly stacked by the side if the loo. They have to go, even though they make a really good weight to cover the drains.

So, magazine free I hope that the problem goes away. But, in the same way that I have a dozen pairs of reading glasses in every strategic point of need, I have a dozen cans of Raid, close at hand, - just in case.

Girlfriends. Friday January 22, 2011

There is a saying “you chose your friends but not your family” – or words to that effect. Living so far away from my family, I am acutely aware of the need for friends and so I suspect are many other people in the same situation as us. Even for the children, now at college and boarding school. They know that their family will always be there for them, but their friends make their daily lives so much the better.

During my life, I feel very blessed to have found great friends in many different locations around the world. They know who they are and l love every one of them. Sometimes you don’t hear or speak to them for months at a time, but you know that when you do, it will be as if you had spoken only yesterday. I love Face Book, because all of a sudden, I am reconnecting with long lost friends that have drifted in and out of my life at various times. Friends of friends are now surfacing – old school friends and in a very modern way, life is become more enriched because of it. You remember why you were friends in the first place and can almost pick up where you left of years ago.

Sure there is the curiosity of wondering “ how much weight has been gained, wrinkles developed or how grey is the hair?” But I genuinely love hearing how everyone is doing, how the kids are doing and what direction their life is taking. It beats the “round robin” Christmas letters any time.

So this blog is dedicated to everyone that I call a friend.

In Sao Paulo, I have been lucky enough to find several really good friends. They are the friends that I will keep in contact with for the rest of my life. They know who they are. I met two of them on the same day, about two weeks after I arrived. The other two I met a couple of weeks later.

Have you ever had a moment in your life when you look at someone and think “I could chum up with you?” It is an amazing feeling and if you are if by chance you meet a new friend at the time when they are looking for friendship as well, then there is a double blessing.

So five of us came together. We are all pretty much in the same boat. Children have fled the nest, husbands are busy with stressful careers and family is at least 5,000 miles away. We need each other, we laugh, cry and support each other and when one of us is having a tough time we are there for each other. My waistline is struggling to cope with all the lunches, coffees and dinners we have together. If a husband is travelling we arrange girls’ nights, go to the movies, walk dogs and rarely a day goes by without some sort of communication between some or all of us. Even when we are away, email and Face Book keep us going.

This morning the last of our group arrived back from the States after spending Christmas with family. She left her elderly parents, sister and only son to travel by herself for about 24 hours to get back to her husband in Sao Paulo. We knew it was going to be a tough trip for her, so one of the group had the mad cap idea that we go to the airport, banners held aloft to welcome her back. We had to enlist the help of her husband who was sworn to secrecy. We seriously would have killed him if he had given the game away.

Yesterday was spent plotting the final details, buying school supplies and sitting down like third graders with glitter glue, coloured paper and magic markers making a “Welcome Home” banner.

You have to remember that traffic in Sao Paulo is just awful and a trip to the airport is to be avoided like the plague. No body does the trip unless the absolutely have to. It is about 20 miles outside the city (not that distance is really relevant) and it can take anything from 26 minutes (the record held by Charles and Marcelo during a Brazil World cup football game when the roads were not surprisingly empty) to easily over four hours.

So we left this morning with plenty of time. Two cars in convoy. One for the girls and one for the luggage on the return trip. Of course we were early, but coffee and laughs kept us going. We stood by the barrier, signs at the ready. Quite what everyone thought of us I have no idea. Marcelo now has concrete proof that his boss’s wife is seriously mad.

And so she came out, luggage piled high and clearly very weary after such a long trip. But who wouldn’t laugh at two middle aged women brandishing banners of a very fetching pink and blue, covered in glitter glue with your name on. We laughed until we nearly cried. We had the effect that we had hoped for and she loved it.

We piled into the car and didn’t stop laughing until we got back into Sao Paulo where we met the other two members of the gang of five and whisked her off to lunch. Who needs a shower and sleep when you can substitute it for laughs?

Girls I love you all!

Security nightmare - part 2. Wednesday January 18, 2011

There is a post script to yesterday’s blog.

Today I happened to be back in the neighbourhood, where the robbery took place. Marcelo decided that he was going to take me on a guided tour of the area where everything had occurred. Rather macabre I thought, but he obviously wanted to show me.

The street is very built up, houses, apartment blocks and a school. Next to the apartment building is something called a “buffet infantile”. This is something that I have never come across anywhere else in the world. It is a party room for children that you hire for your child’s birthday. They provide food - a buffet what else? - and a space in which to play. Magicians and entertainers can be brought in or maybe even provided. They are in short, a perfect answer to the inevitable dilemma of children’s parties. All the mess is contained, kids have a great time and all the mum has to do is pay – sounds perfect to me.

But imagine the scene yesterday. Helicopters, police and a “heavy” squad, chasing thieves in the vicinity of a school and party place. The school, thankfully is closed for the holidays – it being summer here. My guess is that there were teachers around because the buildings were open but thankfully no children. I have no idea whether the buffet was in use - I am guessing no because it was only 10.30 in the morning. From Marcelo’s account the thieves split up, some taking the route through the school and others through the buffet.

Two were captured almost immediately. The others escaped, although for how long who knows. The fact that the robbers, undoubtedly armed, raced into the school elevates the seriousness of the crime in my book. My guess is that with two captured, the police will very soon learn the identity of the others and hopefully take them off the streets.

The outcome could have been so much worse if the school and the buffet had been full of children. It really doesn’t bear thinking about.

Security nightmare. Tuesday January 17, 2011

There was an incident near us today that brought home to me just what a nightmare the security is in Sao Paulo. I was driving to a friend’s house when we saw a helicopter hovering, very close and very low. It just hovered there for what seemed like ages. Next, a police car crossed in front of us, clearly in a hurry to get to the road below the helicopter.

Marcelo was very interested and turned on the radio to one of the local channels. As we proceeded further down the street, I looked towards the area that was clearly causing so much interest to see the end of it completely awash with flashing lights, sirens and police.

We turned along another street only to see the “heavy” police coming along beside us. You can tell them a mile off – a big SUV car, different uniforms and if we could have seen them, heavy weight armour. Clearly, something serious was happening.

All sorts of things were going through my mind. We have recently had the incidents in Rio, where the police have taken out several of the drug barons that control the Favelas. This clean up, over several days, had involved huge numbers of police, special squads and helicopters. Several people were killed but it had the desired effect of getting the drug lords out of the area – until, that is, a new wave come along to replace them.

As I reached my friend’s apartment on the 18th floor, we had a great view of what was going on. So did everyone else as the balconies were full of people. One guy had his video camera out – go figure.

We later found out that what had happened was that a gang of thieves had entered an apartment building with the intent to rob as many apartments as possible. This is actually quite common. They break in, hold people hostage and then go apartment to apartment, breaking-in and stealing whatever they can. They can tell by the location and quality of the building how rich the pickings will be.

Even though the apartments have “security”, it is often an inside job, with the security guards giving the thieves the knowledge they need.

We live in what they call a closed condominium. There are nine houses surrounded by a high concrete fence. On top of that fence is an electric fence. To get into the basement garage, you have to be let in by the security guards who have bullet-proofed guard house at the front facing the road. If you are on foot, they open a gate into a secure area and once in, the gate behind closes before the gate in front opens.

We have heard all sorts of stories about break-ins recently. In our neighbourhood, the latest incident was that thieves targeted a particular car, got into the back and held the driver at gunpoint so as to be let into the garage area of the condominium. Once in the garage, they were then able to go house to house, breaking in and stealing whatever they could carry.

So I never take security for granted and know that there are people whose job it is to keep us safe. When we moved into this house we had a safe room created with a steel door. The idea is that if anything happens, we have time to get to the safe room and sound the alarm. We have cameras literally everywhere, covering every entrance and the outside spaces, (no sunbathing topless in our back garden). However, given all this we are about to have bars on some of the windows and bullet proof glass in the front and have just had the front door strengthened with five steel bolts.

It all may sound completely over the top, but I have to say that it makes me feel a lot safer at night and especially when I am here on my own.

Marcelo of course has made it his business to find out everything about everyone in the condominium. Not only the people living there, but also the maids and drivers that work for the other families. We have a team of guards at the front gate who together with the maintenance men look after the nine houses. Even when we hired our maid, Marcelo went to see where she lived to make sure that she was living in a respectable area. It is not unknown for maids that come from the Favelas to be “persuaded” to give information about their employers.

So today’s event turned out to be an apartment burglary.

From Marcelo I gather the following:-

The good news is that the police were on the scene very rapidly and not many apartments were burgled.
The bad news is that the thieves got away.

I guess in tomorrow’s papers we will find out more details, if we can get the translation right.

Amy Winehouse. January 16, 2011

There is not much in the way of music that Steve and I actually agree on. He is into some bizarre form of alternative music that blends punk, heavy rock, “normal” alterative and maybe a bit of ska (?), whilst I am into music where I can hear the lyrics and that doesn’t blast my ears every time it comes on.

But yesterday we went to the “Summer Soul Festival” here in Sao Paulo, six performers with the headline act of Any Winehouse. She is one of the few singers that we both actually sit and listen to. Pity Marcelo when we have the I-pod on in the car. His tastes run to rock, and judging by the sideburns and pointy shoes, Elvis in particular.

Tickets for the concert came in two tiers. R$ 100 (about US$ 60) for regular admission and R$ 500 (about US$300) for “premium”. We chose the latter. For my R$ 500 plus R$ 100 booking fee I was lead to believe that I would have a seat and be under cover. If you have heard about the flooding in Brazil lately, you will know that we are in the middle of the rainy season, so thinking that we were going to be under cover was actually quite important. Well, wrong on both counts. No seating and no cover.

The tickets said that the gates opened at 3 pm and the concert would start at 6 pm. Basically “first come first served”. If you could be bothered to get there at 3 o’clock then
a. You could park
b. You could get right at the front
c. You would be on your feet for a total of about 9 ½ hours

We were advised not to get there before 8 pm which was just about what we achieved. We missed two/three of the warm up acts (not sure if two performers came on together) but arrived just in time to see the first of the main acts – Mayer Hawthorne. A Buddy Holly look alike and actually quite good.

Janelle Monae was the second big act. She gave a weird stage show that left us both wondering “what the heck was that all about”? But at least she can sing. It looked like scenes from “Eyes wide shut” heavy black capes and masks which must have been extraordinarily hot under the lights and the Sao Paulo heat. There was much writhing on the floor which we couldn’t see because we were standing right in front below the stage, and at the end she drenched herself in water – presumably to cool down which seems a pretty stupid thing to do given the amount of electrical current that must have been surging all over the stage.

So by around 10.15 she was done and the stage was set for the final act – Amy Winehouse. It took about 30 minutes to get the set ready, and a further hour to get Amy ready……whatever that involves.

By this time the audience were getting pretty restless. Although you couldn’t take alcohol into the area, it was pretty much available once inside. Between the audience and the stage there was a barrier patrolled by security guards. There were a couple of scuffles that broke out and within a very short space of time they were over the barriers and in with the crowd. The crowd then chanted and pointed to the guilty party or parties and summary justice was swift with the accused removed from the scene. We didn’t know whether they were removed altogether or just out of that space, but they were gone.

Being an open area, everyone was smoking and personal space was at a premium. Having stood so long in one place though, everyone was aware of the people around them, and when people tried to crash the space to make it closer to the front, the long standers basically closed ranks and stopped them getting through. Summary justice in action again. We had stood for hours to be twenty feet from the stage and no-one was going to get in front of us.

Amy Winehouse was actually pretty good. She is tiny and was dwarfed by the band around her. Her speaking voice is pure London, but her singing voice is quite amazing. Not sure if she was really drunk or just acting the part but there was a certain amount of swaying which looked completely uncoordinated. She had a mug of something that she was drinking from – not sure if it was vodka or chamomile tea or maybe both. She sang all her big hits and a lot besides and the audience were pretty receptive, even when she forgot the lyrics, which she did on several occasions.

After the concert began the nightmare of getting out. Thank god for Marcelo. Fifteen minutes after we left, we saw him and sank into the back of the car, feet aching and very grateful not to be stood upright. Five hours of standing at my age is too much, I am the first to admit.

That said, am I glad I went? Absolutely.

Would I go again to a concert like that? Absolutely not.

International Travel, Wednesday January 5, 2011

There is nothing glamorous about international travel, or any travel for that matter. Gone are the days of anticipation and excitement about a trip. Now it is a means to an end with a destination in sight.

Don’t get me wrong, I love it when I get there, but the whole process of packing, booking, organizing, sorting and planning every last detail leaves me absolutely cold. I need a secretary. That person of course is me. When the children are with us, and even when they are travelling without me, it is up to me to book the flights and organize end to end transport. In the case of Emma, her flight to the US generally arrives before school opens and so she needs to be taken somewhere and then we need to organize the final leg of the trip.

Charles can be left a bit more to his own devices, but having managed to temporarily mislay passport, green card and boarding pass in the airport last year, my heart is on my mouth every time he flies.

So tonight Steve and I are off to the UK for a friend’s birthday party. It is a total extravagance and a belated Christmas present to each other. Why would we swap 30 Degrees Celsius (86 degrees farenheit) in Sao Paulo for 7 degrees (45 degrees farenheit) in London, unless they were really good friends. It is also a chance to see family, and there are never enough excuses for that.

So we were driving to the airport when I realized that I had not only forgotten my American Express credit card, but also my driver’s license. Now, I do have a check list, but clearly this failed me. The credit card s necessary because it has automatic insurance for the rental car, and the driver’s license is well obvious.

Here is where the problem occurred. I have a UK wallet – pink; a US wallet – red; and a Brazilian wallet – black. The idea is that everything needed for every country is in the correct place and all I have to do is pick up the correct colour and all is well. In theory at least but I was let down by the fact that I have managed to end up with everything in the wrong place. I always seem to need things, take them out of the appropriate place and then fail to put them back.

“Marcelo, para casa por favor”. Steve took charge at this point and decided that we didn’t have time to go back. He had his Amex card, US driving license as well as Brazilian (yes – Avis do accept both) and he announced that he will do all the driving. Result – apart from the fact that I hate being driven by him – which may be the subject of another blog. Clearly I have been in Brazil too long and have no expectation of driving.

So the international airport is heaving with people. It is holiday season here in Brazil and the world and his wife are travelling. Check in is fine – we both have enough frequent flyer miles to avoid the big queues, but getting through security and immigration, no such privileges.

Now I have an artificial hip, so going through airport security is a nightmare. Zimmer have very kindly given me a card with my name and the type of device that I have printed on it, but none of the security officials take any notice of it.

Going through security in the United States is a serious hassle. There have been a lot of reports in the press lately about the full body scanners and the full body pat down. I would happily go through the full body scanner if I could avoid the full body pat down. I am told they are coming to Newark but so far no joy. So the system is that you set of the alarm, collect your belongings from the belt but don’t touch them. Then in full view of everyone you have to stand on a mat and get the full body massage. Intrusive – absolutely. Gone are the days when they would wave a wand in your direction. Now it is back front and centre. Up and down. Groin, breasts – you name it. If there is a place they can pat you down, trust me they will.

I loved when we lived in Israel. There they racially profile you with no apologies. Forty something with 2 small children got much less attention than a single male travelling alone. Politically incorrect? Absolutely, but it works.

So I love Brazil. I went through the metal detector and sure enough, bells and whistles. Turn around and try again – same result. Take off watch – try again – same result. Take off boots – try again. No alarm. Huh????

Steve and I suspect that the guy in charge of the metal detector had turned down the sensitivity.

Racial profiling Brazilian style – you have to love it

Parque Ibirapuera. Sunday January 2, 2011

My favourite place in the whole of Sao Paulo is Parque Ibirapuera. I try and walk the dog there several times a week. There are so many paths, roads and green areas, that I reckon it is possible to do a different route every day for a month without having to repeat the same circuit.

If you “Google map” the park and then look at the satellite view, you can see the lake, the green spaces and the Oscar Niemeyer buildings that are dotted around. These comprise exhibition spaces; an auditorium, museums and a huge covered area that stretches almost from one side of the park to the other. This covered area is great for skate boarding, cycling, concerts and above all, somewhere to go when it rains. I have no idea how many people could get underneath the cover but if someone said to me it would hold 100,000 I wouldn’t be surprised. It is quite simply a huge space.

I also love the park because it is a health and safety nightmare. If this park were located in America or even the UK these days, I can honestly say that it would have to be closed down. For example, there are many areas where tree roots have broken up the sidewalks and the road. Instead of trying to fix them, some of them are highlighted with white paint and hey, the kids love to ride their bikes over them simulating some sort of obstacle course.

Recently a tree fell down, but rather than cut it up and haul away the pieces, they made a sculpture out of what was left. For about a month, several people cut, sawed, smoothed and worked away at the fallen trunk and made the most amazing play space with a hollowed out trunk to crawl through, smooth areas to sit on and a rope net to climb all over. Can you imagine the reaction Health and Safety police? Heaven forbid that someone might get a splinter.

On a busy day, which is normally most weekends, there are literally thousands of people there. And here is what I love the most. People walk dogs, roller blade, cycle, walk, run, jog, and picnic and hang out, all in the same space. There is just the most amazing sense of tolerance between everyone. There is a cycle path that the cyclists tend to stick to but often don’t. Similarly, there are always people walking in the bit that is there for the cyclists. The jogging trail often has walkers and they don’t all go the same way. There are numerous basketball courts and five side football fields, none of which have fences round. The result is that often a ball will come hurtling out of nowhere, but no matter, just throw it back in and let people carry on. I love that a basketball court can be used by two different groups at the same time - one at either end. You would think they would join forces and play a real game, but that isn’t the point. Everyone can do pretty much what they like, where and when they like and everyone gets on together.

There is a huge lake but no fence around it and not even a sign warning of the dangers of falling in. The only sign says “please don’t feed the fish because our food is not suitable for them”. There are feral cats, but I have never once seen them chase any of the ducks, geese or black and white swans, so even the wildlife seem to live in harmony.


Here’s another thing that I love about the place. About every 50 yards or so there are bins and people really use them. They clean up after their dogs and so the park cleaners have a lot of their work done for them. Sure there is always litter, but generally it is a really clean space. There are always loads of people sweeping up the fallen leaves and that, it has to be said, is a never ending task given the amount of trees and foliage that is there.

There are several cafes, and about every hundred yards or so, there are vendors with carts selling everything from iced coconut juice, ice creams and every manner of bagged snack you can think of. At the weekends when there are lots of families, there are vendors selling every type of ball, windmill and kite. Photographers wander around trying to take your photo and very occasionally, I see an old man busking with his accordion. What is really good though is that there is absolutely no pressure to stop and buy – no aggravated selling of anything. It is just there if you want it.

Today it was raining when Marcelo came to pick me up. Tessie, it has to be said, doesn’t the rain, but she doesn’t let it stop her if she hears the magic word “walkies”. We got to the park and Marcelo asked if I wanted to be dropped at the covered area so I could spend an hour walking under cover without getting wet. But today I was prepared for the rain, a Barbour raincoat, hat and Hunter Wellies.

I have to say it was absolutely magical. If I passed 5 people I would have been surprised. The cafes were open but there were no vendors to be seen and even the park police stayed indoors. I felt as though we had the whole park to ourselves. We walked in the middle of the road, in the cycle lane and in the joggers’ area. It literally poured with rain – heavy tropical rain – the sort that soaks you in an instant, but we really didn’t mind.

There was absolutely no one around and I loved it even more than usual.

Marcelo must have thought that we were mad.