the ants go marching one by one...

It seems I often run into incidents at the airport, perhaps because I try to travel with multiple 70 pound bags and an often overweight carry-on.  Unfortunately, this last July was no exception.  I approached the ticket counter with all my luggage only to be told there was an embargo and I would be permitted to take only two bags, period, no exceptions.  Well, this brought on the tears.  I hadn't sorted anything while packing, so everything I needed for the start of school and my personal things were all mixed up in all my bags.  I didn't have any idea how to repack them right there at the baggage counter and end up with the things I needed the most.  So my logical conclusion was first to cry and then I said a little prayer that I would somehow know what to do.  In just a few minutes the lady at the counter said I would be able to take all my bags, I would just have to pay a fee (which I knew beforehand, who gives anyone 4 free 70 pound bags to go anywhere?).  Apparently tears and obvious desperation work with airport employees...or maybe it was the praying.  When she weighed one of my bags, it was 72 pounds, juuuuussst over the 70 pound limit.  So I took out a blanket and gave her the rest of my luggage.  Good start.  Around the corner, I decided instead of having my family take my blanket home that I would just shove it in my carry-on.  Good idea...if your carry-on isn't full.  Not such a good idea if you require the assistance of another person to close it (and later the assistance of two people because security thought it a good idea to empty the entire contents of my carry-on and "purse" and send each item through the conveyer belt separately in about 10 trays...score).  "Purse" meaning giant bag with laptop bag, laptop, and three binders inside.  But with the help of my dad and later two Good Samaritans at security I got everything I brought inside my luggage and all the way to Brazil.  Maybe next time I should leave my giant candles, lamp with lampshade, and bead collection at home...maybe.  When I arrived in Brazil, I had an extra health form to fill out, no big deal.  And then everyone working in the airport had on masks...okay, they work with people all day, no big deal.  And then a few days later the authorities mandated that all public schools in São Paulo delay the start of school due to concerns about the spread of the swine flu (referred to as H1N1 by the politically correct).  As a private school it was decided that it would be wise for us to follow suit.  Now maybe that IS a big deal.  So I arrived in Brazil on July 25 and the start of school was changed to August 17.  This equals a lot of free time, which I do not object to.  I had a lot of time organize things in my pre-school classroom, which included finding ants to fill my new ant farm.  You would think that since ants seem to be ev.ery.where when you don't want them to be that I could find a few for educational purposes.  Not so much.  I did find one anthill with some tiny ants, so I collected them and deposited them into my ant farm, only to find the next day that all but about three had escaped through the air hole in the top (good to know, now, that there is an air hole in the top...also good that my ant farm was outside and I didn't let loose a bunch of tiny ants in my house).  I went collecting again.  I felt a little bit like Godzilla, poking holes in their homes and chasing them with my spoon and Tupperware.  I felt a twinge of remorse for uprooting them from their little ant compounds, but as soon as they started running wildly away from me, I forgot my remorse.  It just became a challenge to see how many ants I could catch and put into captivity (a battle considering every time I opened the container some of them escaped, so putting one more ant in often meant losing three others who saw the way out).  Swine flu school delay, check.  Lots of prep time, check.  Ant farm that isn't empty, check.  Lesson plans for the first week of school...I should probably start working on that.

planes, trains, and automobiles....

Except not planes, just trains, automobiles and buses...I had some interesting experiences with transportation this weekend starting with moving around cars in a parking garage.  I should say pushing around, because none of them were my cars and I wasn't driving them out of the way, but pushing them out of the way.  It felt very "Sound of Music, escaping to Austria in the middle of the night."  I went to visit a friend Friday night and when she was going to take me home, we found that someone had parked her in.  Soooo, apparently, the norm in their apartment complex is for everyone to leave their cars in neutral and if you're in someone's way, they just push your car to another space and pull out and then push your car back.  I still felt a little funny pushing someone else's 2,000 pound property around.  

Today, I decided to brave public transportation in order to meet my cousin and her parents who are visiting from the states for lunch downtown.  My friends dropped me off at the train station at 10:15 a.m., and I wasn't supposed to meet my family until 12:30 noon.  I hadn't any idea how long the train would take....turns out, not that long.  After paying the wrong amount for my train ticket (I saw a fee for the bus which was R$7,50 and paid that, though my train only cost $5,10...the lady called after me and gave me R$2 back, if I knew how to ask for the rest of my change, I would have, but we'll consider that my ignorance tax) and trying to put my ticket in the wrong slot at the terminal, I made it to my train (I'm sure the lady got a kick out of watching me try to make the ticket go where it did not belong after she already made off with my 40 centavos).  It took 30 minutes, so I had almost two hours to kill in an area where I'd never been and with which I was unfamiliar.  I walked a bit and found a mall, where most of the stores were closed, but a Starbucks was open, so I ordered something (in order to avoid being asked to leave) and sat outside on their patio and read the book I'd brought for my looong train ride.  I met my family at 12:30 and had a wonderful lunch with them and the host parents my cousin has been staying with during her time in Brazil.  Fun times.  We even went to the top of Edifício Itália, a building from which you can look out over the city of São Paulo.  Then they dropped me off at the train station and I had an uneventful ride home and decided instead of calling someone and bothering them to come and pick me up at the train station, that I could just ride the bus home.  I had exact change, no big deal.  It was only sprinkling when I got on the bus.  After a few minutes, a torrential downpour began, which made it very hard to see where we were stopping and where I needed to get off.  I did manage to get the right stop, but stepped into a huge mud puddle as I exited the bus and, not wanting to hang out at the bus stop in the dark, decided to walk home in the torrential downpour.  It was only a few blocks, but I had to ford several rushing rivers that had been formed from the rain coming downhill from the streets around me and I lost one of my favorite flip-flops in the very first river.  There was no way to retrieve it, it was instantly swept away...boooooo.  So I walked the next several blocks home with only one shoe in a monsoon...but I felt very pleased with myself for having braved two forms of public transportation in one day, and tomorrow, in the daylight, I'm going to hunt for my long lost flip-flop!

no pain, no gain...

I joined a gym for the sake of being social and because it's good for me, but I hate gyms.  I'd much rather ride my bike outside or walk outside or do anything that involves being outside.  But here in this city I am told if someone demands you give them your bike, you must or risk bodily harm.  I think the same goes for tennis shoes, so my outside options are limited (unless I want to run without tennis shoes or bike without a bicycle).  The gym does have big windows that look out on a reservoir, as close as I'm going to get to exercising outdoors...sooo, good enough.  I went to my second water aerobics class today, clad in swim cap and one-piece suit, looking every bit the part of the eighty year olds that usually frequent water aerobics.  I discovered when I got there that I was the only one participating in the class that day with an instructor that spoke only Portuguese (in a country where Portuguese is the national language, go figure).  This wasn't a problem during my first water aerobics class when there were 6 other people in my class and I could just watch what everyone else was doing.  Mostly my personal trainer (she might as well have been) just motioned to me until I did it right and then gave me a thumbs up sign (yaaa for anything that is universal).  We did have some trouble when I couldn't understand that she wanted me to go to the deep end, but she threw me a life preserver, and I figured it out.  I do love water aerobics, even if it isn't for my targeted demographic, but anytime you are the only thing keeping someone from having an extra 45 minutes of free time at their workplace, it can feel a little awkward.  I like attention, I just don't like all of it.  But I survived and made it all the way back into the locker room before I had to use my mostly non-existent Portuguese skills to communicate to a lady who would.not.stop.talking to me, even after I said, "Eu não falo português" and "não entendi" (I don't speak Portuguese and I don't understand).  I think she might have been trying to tell me about Jesus, because I caught God and Holy Spirit and word and Savior and she kept pointing at her heart.  Maybe she was just upset that I was butchering her mother tongue with my poor Portuguese skills.  I haven't any clue what she was saying, and usually smiling and looking dumb works for me, but in this case it seemed to spur her to speak more words I didn't understand.  Maybe the next time I go to the gym she'll want to tell me another story...and maybe sometime I'll start to understand.

*I dedicate this to Beth Elaine, because she cares enough to harass me and she works out on a regular basis (which I have admired since our years as collegiates)

Cesareia de Filipe...

I returned to the Southern Hemisphere on a Tuesday afternoon after a, thankfully, uneventful flight where the only quasi-event was that I was really wishing for my own pair of seats on our not too full flight and ended up next to someone who was particularly chatty about politics, geography, ethnic groups, religion...it was an interesting flight.  I saw a couple from school at the airport when I arrived in São Paulo.  We met in the baggage claim area and found out we had all been on the same 10 hour flight from Chicago and none of us had any idea.  I had Wednesday to rest and unpack and then on Thursday, bright and early at 6:45 a.m., my colleagues and I boarded a big bus to Cesareia de Filipe, a camp outside the city, for our annual PACA teachers' retreat.  We took highway most of the way, but the last leg of the trip took our pretty large bus down a very small road.  Small meaning we needed to back up to let other cars or trucks pass because it was a one vehicle at a time road, small meaning that sometimes there were only inches of clearance on either side of the bus and I could have literally put my hand out the window and touched the wall or tree we happened to be passing with little to no effort.  If I wasn't claustrophobic before, I may have acquired the phobia.  But it was a lovely trip down this small road, trees and flowers e.very.where!  And the camp was just as beautiful, with hills and green and sky in all directions.  I love every kind of camp, and this place did not disappoint.  The only downfall to the beautiful scenery was that the lovely hills surrounding us included a big downhill to the dining hall and thus a big uphill later on and another uphill to the chapel after that.  It was a not so gentle reminder that I am not in shape for four sets of stairs several times a day.  Maybe I'll resolve to be in 'four sets of stairs' kind of shape next winter...we'll see.  I also discovered the next morning at camp that I was without a warm shower, not a huge surprise in a camp setting, but a disappointment nonetheless.  I turned the water on and it was lukewarm bordering on cold.  I turned the handle from one side to another with no noticeable change and then I noticed some buttons on the showerhead so I messed with those too, again no noticeable change.  I eventually just braced myself, jumped in and out as quickly as possible and chalked it up to camp showers.  I got my education on our camp showers, which included an education on electric showerheads, later on at breakfast when my bunk buddy explained what a nice warm shower she had that morning and I tried to blame her for taking all the hot water.  I'd heard of electric showerheads, but had not reached the point of requiring an explanation until that morning...too little, too late.  These showerheads apparently electrically heat the water before it comes out in each individual shower, instead of using a central water heater.  I was told that turning the water on low makes it warmer because there is less water to heat (I had mine on full blast), again, too little, too late.  I also found out that you are only supposed to touch those buttons on top of the showerhead when the water is off, as it is an electrically powered object and can cause an electric shock...I may forget everything else about electric showerheads, but this I will remember for next time.  All in all, it was a fun trip, card games, singing, group activities, unpredictable weather, and cold showers...all the things that make camp fun!

  

  

back home again in Indiana...

     

  

minha familia

  

 

minhas amigas

  

are we there yet?

I've discovered that I'm very needy…in order to get to the airport to fly home for Christmas, my roommate Jean had to call a friend who called a friend to find me a taxi in Alphaville where we were staying, my roommate Claryssa had to explain my situation (being an ignoramus) to the taxi company, the housing community's security, and the taxi driver in Portuguese, and Jean had to loan me money and tell me where to go when I would eventually arrive at the airport…so many people in this production called “Getting Julia to the Airport.”  I did finally get on my way, with many thanks to my roommates for helping the American dum-dum.  I made the 45 minute ride to the airport from Alphaville in record time, 1 hour and 45 minutes (due to a rainy day and terrible traffic)…leaving Alphaville at 6:00, arriving at the airport at 7:45…the driver then blew right past the terminal for United, I assumed he knew something I didn’t know so I didn't point out that we'd passed my terminal, turns out he didn’t…we arrived at the last terminal and he told me to call my Portuguese-speaking friend and ask her again where he was supposed to drop me off…I said "Porque? United (pointing), numero um." (more pointing)…he drove me around again and packed my luggage onto a cart and I was on my way…I arrived inside to see people e.ver.y.where!!!...I see a huge line snaking all the way back to the door and hope that isn’t my line….I fight the people and luggage carts with my own giant luggage cart only to find the beginning of a line for United to Chicago that snakes all the way back to, you guessed it, the door where I'd come in…I went and stood in that atrocious line and figured out after 15 minutes, a Japan Air stewardess, being surrounded by Japanese people, and only being able to pick out one word in all the Portuguese conversations surrounding me…"japonês" (Portuguese for Japanese)…so I exit this line and fight my way back to the United signs where I stand in everyone's way and a lady says, "Washington?" and points to where I’m standing and I say, "Chicago, aqui?" and point to the line where she’s standing…I move over and now I’m in the right line, the first of four….I got in this line at around 8:00 p.m., good to go, 2 ½ hours to my departure…and then a lady comes through the line and says the flight to Chicago has been delayed 3 hours and will now be departing at 1:30 a.m., not awesome, but at least I have further confirmed that I’m in the right line…I wait in this line until 10:30 p.m., my former departure time, having just now gotten rid of my luggage...I get to the front of this line (which I was beginning to believe might not happen in my lifetime) and the lady asks me a bunch of questions about my carry-on, the usual, knifes, strangers handling my luggage, liquids and a few bonus questions....how long ago did you pack your bag…where has your bag been since you packed it…who packed your bag…where did you pack your bag…um, me, mine, meu, meus…it is all my stuff and I don’t let others touch it or even look at it funny, now let me go…let me go, on to the next line, that is, where I can pull my broken carry-on suitcase in such a way that it hits me in either the heel or the back of my leg each time I move it (about 156 times)…I get to the front of the security line, feeling a little claustrophobic from the people, people, people and a little (lot) like I need a restroom (which I have felt like since about 30 minutes into the 90 minute cab ride, but I am not permitted to leave my baggage unattended and no way was I going to get out of line to use the restroom, I’ll develop a bladder infection first)…I go through security, and lucky me, I am chosen to have my bags opened and inspected by a guy who drops my peanutbutter sandwich on the floor as he is stuffing my things very precariously back into my suitcase, he doesn’t notice, other people step on it and kick it around, he finishes and I pick it up because it is wrapped in a paper towel and a Ziploc and I’m hungry (and I definitely eat it when I arrive at my gate…eventually, though I am worried about the person who is paid to "inspect" my suitcase who doesn't notice he is dropping things out of it, maybe a new job where it isn't critical that you take notice would be good for him)…then I see that I will have the privilege of standing in another line, goody…I get to the front of this line and hand over everything in my possession because I have no idea what this line is or what they want, I just got in the line marked “foreigners” because that is what I am…this lady points to a white paper (which I do not have, let alone have filled out and ready to give her), so she gives me a paper and a pen and tells me to get out of line and fill it out…I’m done in about 30 seconds, but she already has another patron (victim) so I have to wait and wait and wait for a lady and her two daughters (who had Brazilian passports which I believe means that they did not belong in the foreigners line) and wait some more while three more people came and went from the line beside me...and finally it is my turn, finally she lets me through after I relinquish my completed white form, finally I can find a bathroom, and finally I can sit down at my gate and wait, wait, wait some more for my flight to leave Brazil at 1:30 a.m. because right now it is only 11:30 p.m.  I think that maybe someday I’ll make it to Chicago and then Indianapolis, but I can't pretend I'm not a little worried about what could happen in between…at least I packed truffles in my carry-on, that made me a happier girl! Though, I discovered later that our flight had been delayed because the plane arriving from Chicago couldn’t be serviced in a timely manner because the port-o-pots were frozen, very nice.  

I'd like to say that the next leg of the trip was entirely uneventful, but the plane was being manned by a whole crew of mean, middle-aged stewardesses…shouting at those who obviously didn’t speak English about chicken or beef..”WHAT DO YOU WANT?”…and talking louder and slower must be part of their training for dealing with foreigners because that was their norm (works like a charm, hmm?)…shining flashlights on people in an otherwise dark cabin to make sure we had our seatbelts on.  I asked one particularly delightful stewardess to borrow a pen or pencil to fill out my customs form and she said "no" and walked away without so much as an explanation (what is the reasoning for denying me a writing utensil?)…another told me to “just go” into the restroom when I hesitated, trying to figure out how to get around her big food cart blocking the restroom door.  Thank goodness for my aisle seat to prevent me from going postal from claustrophobia, exhaustion, and not so friendly skies. 

I arrived in Chicago to giant, fluffy white snowflakes, which were loveeely! After leaving Alphaville at 6:00 p.m., arriving at the airport at 7:45 p.m., standing in line to check luggage until 10:30 p.m., standing in line for security until 11:30 p.m., sitting at my gate waiting to leave São Paulo until 1:30 a.m., (this delayed flight from Chicago caused me to miss my connecting flight to Indianapolis that was supposed to leave at 7:30 a.m.…we didn’t arrive into Chicago until 8:30 a.m.), flying from São Paulo to Chicago from 2:15 a.m. to 8:30 a.m., going through immigration, baggage claim, customs, baggage re-checking, and the train from Terminal 5 (where I was) to Terminal 1 (where I needed to go), going through security again (though I’m not certain what I could have acquired between where the train picked me up at Terminal 5 and dropped me off at Terminal 1, but whatever, I’m clean, let me fly)…the lady at security was really jolly and asked where my smile was, which might have annoyed me, but I was glad there was someone friendly compared to the wicked witches of the west that I had just spent 10 hours of my life with at 30,000 feet.  I arrived at Terminal 1, Gate C30  by 10:30 a.m., just in time for my 1:10 p.m. flight, which was set to arrive in Indianapolis (hopefully with my luggage accompanying) at 3:10 p.m. (6:10 p.m. São Paulo time, just a mere 24 hours from when I left).  I. was. so. tired!  But I did enjoy watching the snow fall outside my window by Gate C30, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!!!  My Indianapolis flight did eventually leave at 1:30 p.m., arriving in Indianapolis at 3:30 p.m., after a short delay to repair the intercom system, where minha familia was awaiting me at baggage claim where all my bags showed up and I got hugs, hugs, hugs.  It was a long trip, but worth every minute to see my dear family's faces peeking around the conveyer belts and piles of luggage!  Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!!!

Feliz Natal!

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger."

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests."

 When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let's go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about."

So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.....Luke 2:8-20

pre-school and Kindergarten singing in our school Christmas program

Christine, Claryssa, Clara, and I after the Christmas program

Christmas is nearly upon us.  The programs, parties, presents, and piles and piles of sweets at school are behind me.  I am packing up and looking forward to a white, snowy Christmas in Indiana with family and friends!  Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!