When I arrived at Post, I quickly noticed how polite the Brazilians are.  Everyone I saw, would politely acknowledge me by nodding and saying, DVane.  Now you have to realize, in many countries the inhabitants have difficulty with the “Dw” in English, so my name is Dvane, instead of Dwaine.  When they nod at me and say, Dvane, it’s like us passing someone on the street in Texas, nodding to them and saying, Hey Fred.

So, throughout the months I have been there, it seemed everyone knew who I was.  Understandably so, because many knew of my situation when I arrived.  But soon, I noticed even the maintenance people would nod and say, Dvane.  Well, since I work with several of them, I guess it made sense.  Then I noticed the gardeners even knew who I was.  So, it kinda baffled me.

I often eat lunch with a good man who works in the computer department.  He is Brazilian and well known by everyone.  One day while we were at a restaurant waiting for food, he looked at someone he knew and nodded and said, Dvane.

I asked him, What did you say to him?

I said, Tu de bem?.

What does it mean?

It’s like saying, All good?

Now, if you say tu de bem fast enough, and from a minor distance, it kinda sounds like Dvane.  (bem is pronounced ben) So, all this time, when I thought people were nodding at me and saying Dvane, they were actually nodding and saying, All good?  So, it kinda deflated me realizing not every knows who I am, but were just being polite.

As I have mentioned before, the Brazilians take meat very seriously, but here is an interesting bit of info.  Several guys from the Embassy in Montevideo, Uruguay, came to Sao Paulo to help me install a new alarm system.  While sitting at lunch one day, they told me in Brazil they flavor their meat with spices, while the Uruguayans flavor their meat only with salt, and the types of wood they use in cooking.  Nothing else.    … just a tid-bit of information.

Remember me telling you about the ambulance stopping at a crosswalk, waiting for me to cross?  Well, I believe that may be one reason why the waiting time for an ambulance is several hours.  A while back, one of the visa applicants passed out and required an ambulance, so the Consulate called it in.  45 minutes later, the Security Officer called to see why the ambulance hadn’t arrived, and was told they were 39th in line!  So, the patient went to the hospital by private vehicle.

At our last post in Turkey, are many stray animals.  Mostly dogs.  People will go out daily and set food out for them.  The Government will capture the animals and have them fixed, marked and release back to where they were picked up.  Here in Sao Paulo, I see many dogs, but the majority of them are on leashes.  It is not uncommon to see two or three dogs together on a leash with someone hanging on tightly to them.  Cats are different.  I rarely see cats.  From what I am told, the cats are house animals and so stay inside.  I have only seen one stray cat on compound, and the guards went crazy trying to catch it, like it was poisonous.  I don’t know what they do with them when they catch them, but they take them seriously.

One more item before we part.  Remember our friend Hiwot?  She was a young nurse we met in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia and became good friends with her.  She had a devil of a time graduating from nursing school, even though all she had left to do was deliver a baby.  She used every trick in the book to postpone it, until an instructor tricked her one day at the hospital.  With your permission, I will regal to you what I posted back then.

I once asked her if she ever delivered a baby.  She replied back incredulously, that she’s never had a baby, and not even married.  I said, “No, have you delivered a baby?” and I even used my hands to imitate delivering a baby, which I don’t even remember how I did it.  She replied with another laugh, NO, NO!!

She told me how she helped a woman who was about to give birth, and she felt so sorry for her that she herself began to cry, and laughingly added, it made the patient start crying also.

Then exactly four years ago tonight, May 14th, 2013, I posted this:

Hiwot delivered her first baby!  A little girl!

As I have stated before, I am convinced the Creator is a bit ornery.  Hiwot pulled some sort of shenanigan to postpone delivering a baby another week; but while she was at the hospital doing her clinical, a young woman came in from “outside city” in labor.  Basically, an emergency delivery.  The “Midwifer” made her do the delivery because, “I am senior nurse now” (Hiwot) .  When she saw the first time mother scared and crying, Hiwot started crying also.  The doctor said, “If you cry, you get out!”  Hiwot said, “I make myself strong.”  But the mother told the doctor, it made her feel good seeing Hiwot crying with her.

Hiwot said the mother held her hand so hard, it felt like she broke it.  “When husband asks if mother is okay, I tell him, I think she broke my hand.”  The doctor actually gave Hiwot an ice pack to put on it.  She says, “I can’t eat well, now”.

There is a great deal more she said, and I do my best to remember.  Although her English is rough, Hiwot loves to talk and carries a conversation very well.  I just follow every few words.

But, this made Terese and me very happy and we are proud of her.  We had a card made up for her and added some birr (Ethiopian money) to it.  When we left the restaurant this evening, we left it in the check holder.  When we got home, she sent us a text:  “I am so happy I don’t have any word to tell you jest thank you so mach.”

I replied back to her, “Thank you for bringing a new beautiful life into the world!”

What really touched me, she told us at the restaurant, “When I hand baby to family, I feel love!”

It’s amazing how people you come across, will enhance your view on Life and all its beauty!

Well, the reason I bring up Hiwot, is because I got a message from her on Facebook as I started writing this.  I had not heard from her for quite some time, but I knew she graduated from nursing school and for some reason ended up in Sweden.  I don’t know if it was an exchange program or it was for further learning, but when I saw her message tonight, I noticed it came from Birmingham, United Kingdom.  Right away she asked about Terese, and I had to tell her the sad news.  It took her awhile to reply.

Eventually, I had the chance to ask her what she was doing in the UK.  Below is an excerpt of the conversation:

• Dwaine: Hiwot, tell me what you are doing in the UK?
• Hiwot:  I’m studying
• D:  Are you delivering babies ?
• H:  Not yet
• D:  Are you going to be a doctor?
• H:  Yes I’m trying my best to be
• D:  That makes me happy !
• .
• .
• D:  I want you to smile when you think about me or Terese.
• H:  Yes I did always
• D:  When will you graduate?
• H:  After 3 years
• D:  Okay.  I will be waiting for you to be a doctor, so I can come to you when I cut myself.
• H:  I wish you a healthy life   … No cut

In the back of my mind I always thought she would one day become a doctor, and now I see it may happen.  I even asked her back then if she wanted to be a doctor and she replied she did but the cost was too much.  I asked her how much and she replied, 5000 birr a month.  Realize, that was only $267 a month!  I would have loved to pay for that if it were possible, to put someone like her in a position to help others.  I have no doubt, that if she succeeds she will eventually become an amazing physician.

Okay.  This post got long winded with no pictures.  I will edit this, post it and go to bed.  Much to do this week.  Just remember.  Keep kicking butt.   D.

 

I think I have solved the problem with the images with Micah’s help.

It is Autumn in Brazil.  The warm weather that the Brazilians think is hot, is gone.  It no longer rains almost everyday and the weather is cooler at nights.  Walking to work the other day, I realized the trees here never loose all their leaves, but gradually drop them throughout the year.  I find it to be a solemn feeling, knowing the trees are constantly replenishing themselves as they continue through their lives.  Like we do.

I am learning the tricks of cooking and am proud to say I am improving.  My second batch of beans turned out well, although I didn’t add anything to them.  Just the kinda white beans that indeed turned brown.  I added salt and placed them on a bed of rice.  Simple and nice.

The third batch were black beans with plenty of potatoes, and very lean bacon.  I wish I would have taken a picture of the bacon as it was a beautiful piece of meat, as far as beauty goes for meat.  I also prepared another pan of cornbread, which I thought was not the sweet kind I made last time, but was.  I am beginning to think the Brazilians do not eat cornbread unless it is sweet.

The food availability differs greatly from country to country.  Here in Brazil, they do not like strong or spicy food.  I love pickles, especially with my hot dogs.  I found a jar in my household shipment but sadly they did not last.  I bought a jar of pickles at the store down the street, but they only sell one brand which had a bland taste. Very disappointing. Maybe I should try making my own pickles, too.

I bought two different brands of hot dogs to see if I could find a brand worth purchasing.  They both were very disappointing.  Both were different colors, and both tasted like the Vienna sausages you buy in the can in the States.  One day when I was at the store, I noticed a section that had large sausages.  Usually packaged two to a pack.  So, I bought one, took it home and found them to be perfectly delicious.  So, instead of the drab, Vienna sausage tasting hotdogs, I take the sausages and slice them lengthwise and use those.  Very nice tasting.

My vehicle arrived a few months ago, and got it register and tagged.  I drove it to work about 3-4 times, and only got lost 3-4 times.  Thank goodness for GPS.  I realize the roads are just a rough as the sidewalks.  My vehicle is heavy, so it takes the roads rather harsh.  I believe that is the reason why people drive slow.

I still prefer to walk to work, but I will use the vehicle if I need to take something to/from work.  When I walk, it is 5 blocks.  Aside from the broken sidewalks trying to trip me, (the large trees do a number on them) it is a pleasant walk.  But when I drive, it is 14 blocks.  There are very few places you can make a left hand turn, so when I drive to work, I have to go the opposite direction for a few blocks, just so I can turn around.  Then I drive right past my apartment.  I could wave to myself if I was on my balcony.

Over the years I have tried my best to keep up with Technology.  It is not easy because it comes and goes like a fart in a windstorm.  But I did manage to grab hold of the voice-activated control that is becoming popular.  I have several of the Amazon Echos in my apartment.  I have them set up with several devices to do things that only a lazy man would want done.  I use it to wake me up in the morning.  The previous night, I will say, Echo, wake me up at 6am.  And she will gleefully say, Okay. Alarm set for 6am tomorrow morning. And at 6am, she will play pleasant music for me. Then I will say, Echo, turn on the coffee, and she will gleefully say, Okay. When I get to the point that I can crawl out of bed with creaking joints and stagger into the kitchen, the coffee is ready to drink.

She has control over various lights in the apartment.  I can tell her, Echo, turn on the balcony lights.  And she will gleefully say, Okay.  And the lights come on.  Same with lights in my office and living room.

I watch very few shows on TV, but I enjoy watching the re-runs of the series House.  So, as I come home from work I will say, Echo, turn on House.  And she will gleefully say, Okay.  And the TV comes on with the correct channel for House.  She is very obedient.  More so than my kids were.  I can sit out on my balcony and tell her to play some Opera, and she does.  I cannot imagine my kids doing that.

I realized Terese has moved on to the next level in Life and she is okay.  I will continue on with this life until Fate calls me to return Home.  I cannot feel sorry for myself, and will grasp Life anyway I can.  I am content.  I do not expect anything else from myself other than the tasks set before me by the Creator.  For everyone else, keep kicking butt.   D.

There is so much to write concerning the differences of the countries we’ve lived, traffic, food, people that I will have to make a special posting for it later.

Here in Sao Paulo I see graffiti everywhere, and is even used to decorate and advertise on store fronts.  The pics below is what I see on the way to and from work every day. These were taken on a Sunday that I had to go in.  The shops were closed other than a few restaurants.

Last year before I arrived, the Consulate brought in a local artist to draw on the wall in front of the Consulate, then invited everyone to color it in.  This is a common Make everyone feel like one happy family thing.  I was told it got out of hand and the next thing they knew, people were adding drawings on the neighboring walls.  Below is the wall after the removal of the extraneous artwork.In Turkey, drivers will fight to get in front of you, even if their vehicle is sticking halfway into the intersection.  Here in Brazil, it is polite and steady.  The stop signs are still ignored like in Turkey and any intersection without a light is a four-way stop regardless of any signage.  What really shocked me is, one day on my 5-block walk to the apartment, an ambulance came screaming down the road.  The little green man was indicating I could walk across the street, but I instead stood to let the ambulance go by.  But, the ambulance stopped at the pedestrian walkway, and waited for me to cross!  I was stunned.  The ambulance stopped for me at a crosswalk!  I then realized I needed to cross very quickly, so I ran.  Not only did they stop for me, but muted the siren so it wouldn’t scare/bother/deafen me.    …. weird.  You talk about politeness.

When I first arrived, I found a restaurant halfway to work to occasionally stop by on the way home for a beer.  One time I decided to get something to eat, so I asked the young waiter for a cheeseburger.  I thought that would be pretty much universal.  It was.  He brought me a small bun with a meat patty about the thickness of a pencil and a slob of cheese.  That was it.  More cheese than meat.  I pulled off most of the cheese and shot some weird colored mustard on it and … it was good!

The next time I asked for a menu, but the waiter did not understand.  So, I used the international gesture for menu, putting my hands together like a book.  He was still baffled, so I used the international gesture of hunger, hand to mouth.   I saw a light go on in his eyes and he smiled.  He understood.  Two minutes later, he brought me this:

I found out later it is called a Coxinha, which has some smashed up meat that I originally thought was crab, but was later told it is chicken.  Another time I was handed a menu and I pointed at something that look like a hamburger.  This time, I was brought a bun with the patty of meat and a slice of ham, and on top of that were strips of bacon.  Then an egg was added, and finally a slob of cheese.  I pulled off some of the cheese and proceeded to eat it.In years past when Terese and I went to a restaurant, she would comment how messy of an eater I am.  I would beg to differ.  Just because the restaurant does not put enough napkins on the table, does not mean I am messy.  So, she started throwing a couple of our cloth napkins into her purse.  I didn’t really need them, but went ahead and used them anyway so she wouldn’t feel like she brought them needlessly.   Now I don’t remember whether I told you or not, but in Brazil it is considered impolite to eat with your hands.  So the napkins you find in the restaurants are kind of waxy instead of absorbent, to keep your hands clean.  So, I tried a few times to use the kind of waxy napkins, but they don’t work.  Especially the cheeseburger I described above.  When I bit into it, the entire contents of the burger slipped out of the back of the bun and into my hand.  … not a pretty picture.  So, I now carry a multitude of the cloth napkins in my backpack.

Last month, one of my big bosses in Montevideo, Uruguay came to see me.  A good guy I first met in Moscow many years ago.  We had a couple of hours before his flight out, so we decided to go to the restaurant and have a few beers.

He suggested getting something simple to go with the beer.  No problem I thought.  So, I indicated to the young waiter I wanted several of those pointy things.  I used my hands to show their shape and how high they were.  It took a couple of seconds, then I saw the light go on in his eyes.  He understood.  He asked, Um ou dois? (one or two?).  I said Dois.  He smiled and left.  Five minutes later, he brought us two cheeseburgers.

I cannot fathom life without these polite misunderstandings, and yet some people would be angry in situations as these.  That is sad.  When Terese and I got lost driving (hardly ever), or something didn’t go according to plan, she would point out it was just a new adventure.  I don’t know if I will ever to be able to see life the way she did, but I admire her for that.

In the many hours that I sat out on my balcony with strong drink and fine cigars, I contemplated her life and realized she needs a proper tribute.  I proceeded to write it, and as I add to it, the more I realize how incredible Heaven must be with her passing out hugs, kisses and napkins.  I will eventually finish it with many tears, smiles and laughs; and pass it on to you good people.

Until then, keep kicking butt.

Dwaine

 

 

A couple of weeks ago, my House Hold Effects (HHE) were delivered.  The apartment I have now is about half of what we had in Ankara, so I knew it would be a challenge to find places for everything great and small.  Below are pictures of my apartment balcony before delivery.The living room / dining area The messy Master bedroomThe guest bedroomThe small office.Then the delivery came. And then the long process of un-boxing. And notice the white trash bags of paper.  So far, I have 12 of them and there should be about 3-4 more. There were about 145 boxes and I still have about a 15-20 to sort through and pack away in the utility room bathroom, which is now become my storage unit.  No problem though, because I still have four more toilets.  The following pics show the slow progress. I tried my best to keep the kitchen free for me to function in it, as I like to eat. And the living room is starting to look good with the Persian rug and Turkish lamp.It will be months more before I can finally say, it is finish.  But in about a month from now, I will have about a dozen items to sell at the Consulate.  I have a big box of baking stuff that I will trade for double layer chocolate cake with just a very thin layer of chocolate icing.   I bet there will be takers.

Until later, continue kicking butt as I will.   D.

According to Wikipedia, “… Sao Paulo is the 11^th most populace city on the earth, and largest Portuguese-speaking city in the world …  The city, which is also colloquially known as Sampa or Terra da Garoa (Land of Drizzle), is known for its unreliable weather, the size of its helicopter fleet, its architecture, gastronomy, severe traffic congestion and skyscrapers.”

I don’t know anything about its helicopter fleet, architecture or gastronomy, but I see it from my 9^th floor balcony.  A view of a soccer field below, and beyond that, skyscrapers.  At first I disliked the sport field, but then I realized, if not for it I would see nothing but tall buildings which seem to go into the horizon.

And as you will notice in the image below, I have what appears to be fencing on the balcony.  It is made of string instead of wire, which I assume it is to keep birds out.My balcony is long and narrow. The rectangular hole in the wall is a BBQ grill.  One thing certain about this country, the Brazilians take their meat very seriously.  Everyone cooks meat, therefore all houses and apartments need a place to cook it.

And they do cook meat very well.  And beans.  These Brazilians know how to cook meat and beans.  Every restaurant serves meat and beans.  The little place I go for lunch has meat on a grill, and beans, rice and a few vegetables.  I cannot imagine this country being friendly to vegetarians, but I know personally several who do find a lot to eat.

Many of the restaurants have a selection of food that you load up on, then place your plate on a scale and pay per kilogram.  I have a very good lunch with a bottle of water for about 10-12 dollars.  With a meal like that, I have a small dinner.  Usually a sandwich or toast.

Now, the Brazilians are not people who enjoy spicy food.  As a matter of fact, you will not find black pepper on tables at a restaurant, because it is too spicy.  When I go to the little restaurant for lunch (Santina de Maria), I will ask for some of their spicy sausage.  It is not spicy at all, but it does have a very unique flavor.  The first time I tasted it, I wondered whether it was good meat or not.  I took a chance and ate it anyway and did not wake up dead the next morning.  Every time I ate it since then, it tasted the same.  So I guess it’s just the spices they use and not bad meat.

The best way to describe the traffic here is cordial.  If someone wants to cut you off, they use their blinker and wait for you to give them room.  Not what I am used to in Turkey.  Everyone drives the speed limit, because there are cameras everywhere watching you, which will send you a ticket in the mail for speeding or running a red light.  As I type this, the lady who owns the “Damnit Cat” that I took care of for 6 weeks, just took me to a restaurant for lunch.  She told me she gets so many tickets each month, that she no longer even tries to drive politely.  She said, her approx 300 Reais a month ($100) is just the price of driving in Sao Paulo.

She also told me that because of the crime in the city, when you drive late a night you ignore the traffic signs.  No stopping at a “Pare” (stop) sign due to the possibility of being car jacked.  Yes, you may be pulled over by the Polícia, but the fine is part of being safe.

The People.  I was told the Brazilians are the happiest people in the world.  With the crime I would question that, but working with these good people, I can see their happiness deep inside.  There is Jefferson Tisano who works in the Maintenance of the Consulate who does everything he can to hold his joy inside while he works.  One of these day, I will take him out for a beer after work to see what’s inside that glorious cerebral matter of his.  There is a small diminutive electrician named Fransisco who is always smiling.  Always.  When I say, Fransisco, why do you smile so much?  He says, I dunno!  Then there is Felipe who is cautious with me.  He is in charge of the local guard force and tries to maintain a serious nature when he is around me.  But I have seen him smile and laugh when I was not nearby.

Now, there is something we must talk about.  After coming from a Muslim country with its call to prayer 5 times a day, starting at about 4-5 am, I was looking forward to being in a Christian nation with churches and cathedrals abound.  But alas, no.  No, as in no churches and cathedrals abound.  I thought that Brazil would be like Ethiopia or Russia with its Orthodox churches everywhere like the mosques in Turkey.  Sometime, I will have to search one out, wherever they are.  But I have yet to hear any bells at all.  *sigh*

Okay. Enough for this post.  Kick butt.  D.

 

I now live in a country that speaks very little English.  I do not learn languages well, so I just learn the necessities:  cerveja, toalete and obrigado.  (beer, toilet and thank you).  Thus, it is unlikely I will go to a restaurant by myself and order a medium Kansas City strip with a fully loaded baked potato and a salad with ranch dressing.

So, I decided to start learning how to cook for myself.  The best thing to start with is beans.  Now I come from a family of nine kids and as my brother states, our mother only cooked for eight.  (our little sister is very thin).  So, the meals were not gourmet, nor should they have been.  It was quantity, not quality.  Beans where a staple that we grew up thinking they were what they were.  Not like the beans I’ve had in the years that followed.  So I looked on the Internet to see how to cook them.  Wash, soak and cook for 60-90 minutes.  You know, that sounds quite easy.

I like black beans and I like some brown beans.  So I went to the local market and picked up a bag of black beans and a bag of beans that appeared kinda white but should turn brown when they are cooked.  I took a cup of each and washed them and mixed them together in a bowl, covered them with plenty of water and placed in the refrigerator before leaving for work.

When I came home, the beans, both black and kinda white were a dark purple color.  Now I would think that this was something that would have been taught by the nuns in the parochial school, that black beans have ink in them, but I don’t have any recollection of anything to do with beans except planting them for a science project.

I went ahead and placed them in a pan with plenty of water and turned on the heat.  I then took 4 cloves of garlic, a half onion and a potato and chopped them into small pieces and added them to the now boiling purple beans.  I also added a secret ingredient that I will not divulge here should I ever enter these beans in a bean contest, but I can tell you it rhymes with baking, but without the “g”.

While they cooked, I made some cornbread which had a sweet taste like that of coconut because I could not read the package that was written in the local language.  Somewhere on the package it must say, This is sweet cornbread – Do not cook unless you want sweet cornbread.

After 75 minutes I decided the purple beans were done, so I sat down with the beans, sweet cornbread and a glass of chilled rose’ wine.  What a meal to remember!

I am babysitting a cat for a friend of mine, and when I offered her a taste of the meal, she quickly backed away.  I think it is because of the garlic.  We all know cats are a subspecies of vampires.

This cat is a female that has been named, Tiger.  She is extremely affectionate to the point she will nuzzle me any chance she has.  Her owner told me that they cannot sleep with her in the room, because she will continually nuzzle during the night, with her wet nose on the face.

So, I decided to break her of that.  The first night was a challenge where after an hour, I ended up sleeping with my head under the covers.  The second night, I decided to teach her the word No.  So, every time she crawled over to my face and started rubbing her wet nose on my face, I pushed her away and told her, NO!  It took several times for her to understand I did not want her at my face.  Six times to be exact.  This took place several times throughout the night, and at one point, I counted eight attempts from her before giving up.  But I was adamant to teach her the word No.

As it is now, I can stately say No as she gets near my face, and she will stop and lay down where she is.  Sometimes she will go to sleep and sometimes she will wait a few minutes then move to molest me again.

I am convinced that I will eventually teach her the word No to a point she will fully understand.  Afterwards, we will work on other words, like Fetch me a Beer.  With a little luck, by the time her owners return in late January, I will have her reading Tolstoy.

As for the beans, I will eat the remaining next week and try adding different ingredients for the next batch.  Perhaps some spicy stuff like pepper sauce.  If I leave out the garlic, the cat should be willing to try it. I will let you know how it goes.