There are several guava fruit trees on the Consulate’s compound and it is the  time of year that they drop their fruit.  It makes a mess, but one consolation is the sweet fragrance they give off once they break open.There is one tree that hangs over a driveway as if its only purpose in life is to carpet the roadway with guava fruit.  The gardeners struggle to keep it cleaned up.  If I can get a picture of the mess, I will post it.

I had a small Wingfest Sunday evening with only the people who live in the apartment complex I do.  Here are a few pics of them. Nothing elaborate.  Just good food and good people.  And a very cute little girl!  I was asked by her parents if I would like to baby-sit sometime, and I responded, If she is potty trained.

Last Saturday I went on a tour of the Goes winery, and a quick stop at two others.  Below are a few pics.The wine is fermented in the tanks that look like ovens, which are lined in paraffin.  The paraffin has to be changed out every few days, and I cannot imagine it not being quite a mess.  The company will be going to the stainless steel tanks seen on the right.  Below are some of the holding tanks the wine is moved to before bottling. As with any place like this that involves humans, you will find interesting stories.  Look at the three barrels below.The wine in the middle barrel has been there for 35 years and no one knows anything about it.  The only person who knew was fired and he refused to tell anyone.  Below is a machine that cleans, fills, caps and labels 2 liter jugs of wine.  They told us that line is only operated once a year when a 97 year old man and his 103 year old wife come by to purchase 40 jugs of the wine.  It is said once the couple crosses the rainbow bridge, the assembly line will be dis-assembled.Brazilian wine is not one of my favorites as I prefer Chilean, but it was interesting to go on this tour.  And I did laid awake that night thinking about that 35 year old barrel of wine and wondered what it would taste like.

D.

While perusing my cabinets the other day, I came across several cans of pumpkin pie stuff.  Remembering in the past how nice and comforting pumpkin pies are, I decided to try my hand at it.

I checked the label and it appeared I had all the necessary ingredients.  So I stoked the stove for 400 and something degrees and proceeded to make a pumpkin pie.

When the slurry was ready to pour, I realized it was more than what I needed for a pumpkin pie.  Luckily, I had three graham cracker pie crusts which enabled me to make three pumpkin pies.  But if you ever made such a pie, it is often the case you have to cook it much longer than what the instructions say.  I remember Terese had to cook one for 90 minutes!

So, I kept cooking it until the center did not stick to a stick that I stuck in it.  But, then it ended up cooking too long.  The pies were over-cooked, but not burnt.  I ate one of the pies right away, gave one to Camila to take home to her family and took the other to work, where I ate most of it.  Below is the trio before consumption.As an aside note, I am planning to have a Wingfest in my diminutive apartment this Sunday, and I am only inviting those who live in the same apartment complex.  I expect there will be less than 10 people, plus a baby.  In my invitation, I explained I have an incredible 900 year old mother who loves pictures of the people I interact with, so I will be taking pictures.  So far, I have heard no complaints.

Okay, unless something more interesting comes up, I will see you again next week.  In the meantime, kick butt and grasp another adventure.

I added a new segment to Page One.  Click the link below.

Serious Stuff

In the morning on the way to work, I walk by the Paulista University.  So, it is common that I end up walking with many of the students on the way to class.  The other day, just as I got about 50 yards from the school, one of the public buses made a stop and the driver helped a young blind man off the bus.  He reached out to grab someone nearby to help the man get to his destination, and … well, that person ended up being me.

If it wasn’t for the language barrier which is more than any other place we lived, it would not be a problem.  The driver grabbed me by the sleeve and placed the young man’s hand on my arm as I tried to tell him I did not understand Portuguese.  He rattled off something in Portuguese and boarded the bus and drove off, with several people gawking at me from the bus windows.

So, I started to panic.  I removed his hand from my arm, and grabbed hold of his arm in case he tripped … or something.   I had no idea what to do with this man.  I couldn’t get my phone out to use the translator app, because he was blind.  So, I did what I usually do when get thrust in with the Brazilians.  I say, “Eu não entendo português”. (I do not understand Portuguese).  He looked toward my direction with his eyes rolled up into his eye sockets and replied, “I speak leetle  English.”

Okay.  First hurdle, now the next.  “Do you need to go to the University?”

He moved my hand from his arm and gently slipped his hand under my arm.  That simple gesture made me relax.  I was no longer leading him, but simply walking with him.  He said, “Yes.  I am study computer science.”

Okay.  Second hurdle has been reached.

So, I gently moved him around the corner and walked to where I thought the students entered the building.  He kept tapping his cane back and forth in front of him, until he came to a point where the ground shifted to a slight incline near a corner of a wall.  At that point, he knew where he was and thanked me for my help.

I found such a simple act of helping a young blind student get to his class, a thought provoking moment for those of us who take our sight, and everything else for granted.

But I was happy to let him go, and as I continued walking to the consulate, I was reminded there are people walking among us not born of woman, who are placed here to test/teach us.  I wondered if he was such a person, and if he was, did I pass?