As I mentioned before, on the way to/from work there is a little bar called Bar Do Guimas; which I often refer to as my Portuguese class because one of the owners, a young man named Luciano, will sit with me and we will teach each other our languages.  I will stop by 3 or 4 times a week to have a “class” and a beer.                                Luciano – my Portuguese teacher/bartender.

One day when I arrived, Luciano came to me apologetically and told me the waitress broke my glass.  I was kind of baffled but gradually realized, they had been giving me a special glass that was only to be used by me.  So, I decided to replace it with a glass representing Texas (the Greatest Country on Earth).  I looked on line and found the perfect one.  Actually 4 of a set.  See below.

I presented it to them and now when I stop for my “class”, it looks like this:Ya know, Life is good.

During lunch, my buddy Ricardo and I will go to one of the half dozen restaurants within a 5 minute walk.  There was one specific that I liked, which looks like an ugly brown barn called Garoa Paulistan and sits across the street from the University.  It was run by a father and son and after 25 years in business, it closed a few weeks ago.  Most sad.  I had always intended to take pictures of the antiques placed haphazardly on the walls and in the rafters overhead, but I always thought, Some other day.

There were two things that made this ugly brown barn one of my favorites.  One, the son loved to make hot sauce.  As I told you before, the Brazilians do not care for spicy food, but there are some that appreciate it, and his son was one.  I still have one more jar left which was made with ginger.

The second thing about this place, was every other Friday the son made jambalaya.  I am not an expert on Cajun food, but his jambalaya was incredible.  So much, that since I will no longer have his, I have decided to try my hand at it.  It was there that I first experienced and fell in love with the little pimentas biquinho which he used in the savory dish.  Here is a picture of them I found on the Internet.In the “Amazing People I Meet” category, there is a young lady at the Consulate in Porto Alegre.  She is the secretary for the Security Officer and her name is Alice, which the Brazilians pronounce Alicee.  (long E at the end)I mention this pretty lady, even though she didn’t want her picture taken at the time because she is was very pregnant.  Earlier this week, she gave birth to an beautiful little girl they named Olivia.

People come and go, yet Life continues.  That is the way it is supposed to be.  We pass on and new generations fill the void, and we hope we leave them more to work with than we had.

Kick butt and don’t let any adventure slip from you.   D.

It has been awhile since we last visited and a lot of things whirled past like a fart in a windstorm, sort of speak.

I took four weeks off in the States for the Family Reunion, which I missed the previous two.  It was good to see the family and all four of my kids together.  I am the one in the middle.Then I took a road trip in my little Barbie Car, as MotherDear calls it, down to the Austin and Houston area and then on to Santa Rosa Beach in Florida, near Destin.  I’m the one pretending to be asleep.  Any time spent at a beach is priceless, even if it rains.

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Issues that take place at the Consulate are one of the many reasons it is so enjoyable to work at, and each time something happens, I am impressed with the way the guards react.  Extremely professional.

Earlier this year, there was a mentally disturbed young lady who decided the US Consulate should give her refuge status, thus a free trip to America and a firm path to citizenship.  She camped out on the sidewalk across the street from the Consulate, day and night waiting for the Consulate General to cross over and give her a free ticket to the States.  Never happened.  The local Poliza would come by and question her, but she since she didn’t break any laws she was allowed to stay there.  At one point, she crossed over to the Consulate’s side of the street to harass the guards, and the Poliza showed up and took her away.  Within hours, she was back at her campsite.

She would often stand and yell obscenities to the guards or taunt them with offers of some sort of sex, but that wasn’t breaking any laws.  She was repeatedly taken in by the Poliza, but always returned.  This lasted almost a month until finally she was picked up and placed in a mental health facility.

I keep hoping she would return because I found her amusing.  On my way to work every morning, my path took me past her but she never bothered me.  She did speak to several females about things I will not mention here.  At one point I was tempted to take a picture of her, but I actually felt sorry for her and decided not to.

Occasionally, there are minor demonstrations that take place outside the Consulate.  The Poliza makes sure the demonstrations do not cross over to Consulate property.  I understand it is not a pretty sight when that happens.

A while back, a visa applicant was upset about something and decided to use his umbrella to break a window to let everyone know how he felt.  Didn’t go well for him.  The umbrella did nothing to the bullet proof glass and he ended up being suppressed by the local guards until the Poliza arrived.

What I thought was interesting, was how our local guards reacted.  They didn’t just stand looking at this guy like I would have done, but focused their attention on all the surroundings, anything that may take place elsewhere.  As it was pointed out to me once, if something takes place at the Consulate, be aware it may be a diversion for something worse.  The US has learned this in hard ways.

The Consulate’s Independence Day celebration took place on Thursday, June 28th.  This is any Embassy or Consulate’s biggest celebration.  It is an expensive gathering, but with no fireworks.  It is a gala where we invite dignitaries of the local Government, several high ranking military personnel and representatives of the American companies who do business in Brazil.  In years past, I did my best to escape having to attend these, but the RSO (head of security) in Sao Paulo felt the world will collapse if I wasn’t there.  So I showed up in one of my suits and stood around looking pretty, sort of speak.

I meet many incredible people here and become friends with several.  My good friend Carol, whose wedding I attended in Brasilia, has since left forever to be with her new husband in Japan.  Good for her, but not the Consulate.  She was a good nurse, even managing to make me stay healthy despite my objections.  She was at the Fourth celebration and we had our pictures taken with another good friend.Carol is the pretty one in blue and Fabbie is the crazy one in white.  Fabbie is the Office Manager for the Management Office and a joy to visit with.  Once a week, I will stop by her desk with a trivia question, usually about a movie.  I have learned to be careful which movie I mention, because many times she will burst out in song if the movie has one.  Beautiful voice.  I once asked her if she ever saw the Sound of Music, and she started singing how the hills are alive with the sound of music.  Mention Mary Poppins and she will start singing about a spoon full of sugar.  Mention the Wizard of Oz, and she sings of a yellow brick road.  Crazy Lady, so I call her my Crazy Lady Friend.

Here is another friend I will miss.  Her name is Jesse and she reminds me of my bossy daughter.  Vibrant, intelligent and full of humor.  She has also moved on to greener pastures as they all do.  One of the pains of working in the Foreign Service, is all the people you meet who have to move on.I made a batch of beans this weekend and as expected, it was delicious.  I added some sausage and bacon to it, but I wanted you to see what bacon looks like here in Brazil.  Look how beautiful it is!And the finished product was amazing, except I added a bit too much garlic.  And likewise, the side effects were amazing as well.  Here it is on a bed of rice with “country” cornbread.Life is made up of people, places and food  … and the Waters of the Earth who will always beckon those who visit her.  Let nothing pass under your feet without at the very least noticing as it passes, because you do not want to miss any adventure it may offer.      D.

Law Enforcement Working Group

Yesterday, Saturday, the RSO (Regional Security Office) that I work under had a Law Enforcement appreciation day.  Lots of food and beer.  I did not know there were so many Brazilian Law Enforcement groups.  As I mentioned some time ago, you never take pictures of men with automatic weapons unless you ask first.  So for all these pictures, I asked first.  If nothing else, it was a show of respect to them.  Here are a mess of pictures I took. Here is a picture of the Bombeiros, the Firefighters:Here is a picture of me with a group which I had taken because it had women:Here is a picture of the animal trafficking group with samples of animals they had confiscated, or the taxidermy version of them.Here are pictures of the vehicles many rode in on. There was even a police jazz band that played for everyone.… and the food : There were 150 liters of beer to start with.  Since most of the law enforcement were in uniform, they were not allowed to drink alcohol and yet they still ran out of beer.  Here are a couple of ladies who are good friends of mine.  The pretty one in the back I sometimes call “Becca” because she reminds me of my daughter in so many ways, and I have told her that.  The smiling Lady with the hat is Kris, a good friend of mine.The guy in green is unknown.  He photo-bombed my picture, but I let him live because the law enforcement there.  The good man in blue is “Becca’s” husband.  Below is a picture of the Calvary group.  I have not had much dealing with horses and first thing I noticed about these animals, they look like they are pure muscle and sinew.  I could detect no fat on these beautiful animals.Here is a picture of one of the Local Guard supervisors with his daughter.  I like all the guards and get along very well with them.  I don’t know this man’s name so I call him “Amigo”, like I do all of them.There were a group of men that stood around without smiling that I could not tell which group they belonged to, so I didn’t ask to take their picture, but of the 8-10 law enforcement groups I saw represented, the one I didn’t see and was hoping to, was the CHOK group.  I looked on the Internet to determine if that is the correct title but could not find them.  Anytime we have a demonstration at the Consulate, they stand quietly inside the compound waiting for someone to cross the line.  I have never seen them in action, but I am told you do not want to be on the receiving end.  The CHOK is pronounced “Shock”.

… so, if you come to Brazil, behave yourself.

Addendum:

I found the correct acronym for the CHOK is CHOQUE (pronounced Shock) which is the Military SWAT team.  They are very quiet men and do not move around much.

So, again, behave yourself if you come to Brazil.

Another Addendum:

I found out the guys standing around that I didn’t know which group they were with, are Prison Guards.  Some had tattoos on their faces and looked like they deal with the scum of the Earth, the scrapings of the barrel.  I definitely would not want these people, male or female, beating me into submission.

So, behave yourself if you come here.

Yes, that Picasso.  The painter.

In the countries we have been to, we always enjoyed buying works of art from individuals.  Any small neighborhood bazaar will have artists selling their goods and we have purchased many.  These are not masterpieces, but just works of art that touched us.

A beautiful friend of ours in Ankara has a daughter that follows her own path in Life.  The first time I remember seeing Ayşe was at an Embassy sponsored “Olympics”.  While everyone was running around jumping through hoops, she was busy dragging a tree branch around in the dirt.

When I saw her my first thought was, This little one follows the beat of a different drum.  And as the years progressed, I thought correctly.

I began to see postings from her mother of Ayşe’s paintings on Facebook.  So, I asked her sometime ago if her daughter would be interested in selling some of them.  Ah, no thank you, Ayşe told her.

Recently, luckily for me, she has grown and realized the value of things.  So, when I asked again, Ayşe told her, Yes.

Her mother sent me four pictures of the paintings Ayşe picked out for me, and the one I chose was the one Ayşe said I would choose.  It made me feel good that she sensed which I would pick.

Here is Ayşe’s painting hanging on my bedroom wall, that she did when she was 7½ years old.It is based on Picasso’s painting titled Portrait of Paulo as Pierrot.At seven years old, I was struggling to tie my shoes …. come to think of it, I still do; but put that aside and let me say something here.  A close friend used to paint pictures from the Masters.  He said by doing so, he encountered the same problems they had and learned how to overcome them, and he became a better artist.  Something I never would have thought about.

But then I realized the same can be said for writing.  By reading the works of the Masters, I have learned how they used words to describe all the facets of Life.  Reading the words of Tolstoy, Hugo and Dickens, I have become better at putting my thoughts on paper.

It will be the same with Ayşe.  If she continues to follow the Master’s works, and I expect she will, she will become an artist who stands out.  Just the fact she chose the work of Picasso to copy, says a great deal and I know she will be a success in Life.

Carry on, Little One.  Your drum is calling you.

There is a small bar halfway between my apartment and the Consulate where I stop several times a week to have a beer on the way home.  One of the owners, a young man named Luciano will come and sit with me to learn English and teach me Portuguese.  When I told him my 99 year old mother wants to see pictures of the people I meet, he smiled but kept muttering : noventa e nove (ninety nine) over and over again.

So, my Portuguese class is sitting at a bar with a young man who is hungry to learn English, while I sit drinking the local beer, hungry to learn Portuguese.

This is why Life is so amazing.  So enjoyable.  So satisfying.

One of Life’s infinite adventures to follow.  Terese knew, and I am learning.

The head of the Housekeeping team is Pedro.  Pedro’s people go through the offices to clean and empty the trash, and I find them to be good people at the core.

Every Thursday morning Pedro comes to my shop/office and cleans, and a few months ago he cleaned my coffee cup.  For serious coffee drinkers, this is a big No-No.  I am proud of the seasoned cup I drink my coffee from.  So, it being his first time, I gently chewed his butt out and told him not to do it again.  (evidently, he must not be a coffee drinker)

Well, Thursday afternoon, I looked for my coffee cup and did not readily find it.  I sat at my desk perusing the last hours since drinking coffee to determine where I left it.  This is not an unusual thing for me to do, as my cup accompanies me regularly, and as in the past I had to acquiesce it would eventually show up.

So, I went to get a different cup and noticed there was another `Turkish’ cup like the one I normally use.  It took several seconds to realize, I only have one `Turkish’ cup and this was it, except it had been cleaned.  Again.

I will not repeat the words that came to mind about Pedro.

So, me being a forgiving man I decided not to chew his butt out, but left a permanent reminder for him not to wash my cup again.  I created a notice that I place directly on the coffee cup in a language he would understand.  “Do Not Wash” We’ll see if he can read.