Monday, April 30, 2007
The problem was not my ability to enjoy the tourist sights again nor that I am getting old, no, no, but that I was the one responsible for asking the taxi drivers, the waiters, the shop keepers for everything in Portuguese. I wasn't physically tired as much as just mentally emptied by the need to drag out of my brain all the phrases the I know. Now that I have had a day of rest, I am also very proud that I was able to speak so much Portuguese and to be understood. There may be hope for me yet. GingerV
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Thursday, April 26, 2007
And here I am at Starbucks, Atlanta airport. Gate B30. I just went through customs. They have gotten so strict about liquids. The security checker must have seen something on the screen because she grabbed my tube of toothpaste, shrugged her shoulders and placed it back in the scanner tray with my shoes. All the while the truly suspicious item she had seen lay under my purse; the lethal 80 gram tube of hormone gel. Enough federal crime reporting, what about coffee shop crimes. This is amazing, I think I am the only person who ordered coffee. Everyone else is ordering things like; mocha caramel double dip froth, or 20 ounces of chocolate mocha italianato sippy froth. Then the customers say " Oh and I need a double rocky road chocolate muffin or a croissant ala France." Alluring neon lit display cases hold bagels the size of wagon wheels and muffins as big as landscaping rocks. You do know the pride of French bakeries are tiny crusty but light flakey and buttery puffs of air croissants. Here they must weight 20 ounces and be nearly the size of my head. Now I notice the size of the women's butts, big as Brazil, every one of them! I think I could sit here and be inspired to write 10 blogs but I have a plane connection to make and more airplane food to eat.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Monday, April 23, 2007
Pão de Queijo
4 measures of polvilho doce (extremely fine mandioca flour the texture of cornstarch)
3/4 measure of vegetable oil
1 measure of water
1-1/4 measure of milk
around 350-375 grams of grated queijo de Minas (similar to Mexican fresh cheese but a bit harder and drier in texture, parmesan is only a so-so substitute because it is too strongly flavored)
1 teaspoon salt (or to taste)
4 eggs (or thereabouts)
Here is where it gets tough. You heat up the oil, water, salt and milk. Mix in the flour well then let it cool down. When it is warm add the cheese. You start adding the eggs one by one until you have a texture, well an indescribable texture. They mixed it with their hands, then oiled their hands to form egg size oily lumps. Space them on the baking sheet and without allowing them time to rise bake them in a moderate oven. The raw dough balls can be frozen and then popped frozen into the oven.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Take the previous blog for example, http://www2.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=78768605537432451&postID=6377503399742055964 about what Americans are doing with Brazilian coffee. The Comandante speaks great English but I had to translate the words: Ann Arborites, java, naturopaths, liver, and enemas. Then it was necessary to explain the concept of getting coffee up to the brain. Geez, fa 'getta bout 't!!!
Friday, April 20, 2007
The Comandante and I apologize to our dear friend, Romulo who wrote a book of the same name but tonight we experienced a much more shocking crime. A robbery? No, a multi apartment home invasion? No, A vicious murder? No. We witnessed the most pretentious musical production ever produced on this planet, much worse than a child's third grade band recital from which we are still trying to recover. We think it will take another bottle of wine. We went to Parque Lage this evening for a jazz production. The mansion was built in the early 1900's for a wealthy shipowner and his homesick Italian opera singer wife. He commisioned a stone Italianate structure with an immense reflecting pond. At night true genius becomes apparent as visitors enjoy miraculous candlelit reflection images of Italianate arches, clear bright skys and the granite monolith of Corcovado mountain illuminated by the Cristo display. The Comandante and I felt priviledged to be in attendance. No camera or film could possibly capture the panoramic ambience. The musical lineup for the evening included eight of Rio's finest jazz musicians. Try to picture gentle candlelight, an introduction worthy of Ed Sullivan, a couple of Cole Porter instrumental standards, and then a young woman emerges from the darkened arches to sing. This was an environment worthy of Pavarotti, she opens her mouth but nothing comes out. Nothing notable at least, unless you consider an immature, untuned four note range 12 year old female voice interesting.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Sunday, April 15, 2007
I found them . . . . I give you . . . the pools at Leça.
Built in the 1960's, the pools and entrance sit entirely below the level of the highway so as to not interfere with the view of the Atlantic.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Thursday, April 12, 2007
If you try reaching me between 11am and 1:30 on Monday, Wednesday or Friday this is where I spend that time. I tried other gyms in Ipanema and Leblon but this one on the edge of the Lagoa is really the best. The clients are serious. Some real training goes on here. This is Adriano with his favorite client.
This is the awsome André. He is my trainer. He keeps me going, keeps me motivated and strong. The only thing he doesn't do is inspire me to eat less or do more aerobics. Well I feel healthy anyway, even if I am gordinha.
This is obviously not a photo of me. This is what you look like if you watch what you eat or you are a man or something like that. Never mind, I don't think there is any chance that I will develop biceps like that.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Monday, April 9, 2007
After the airports and bad roads we finally arrived. These photos are in no particular order.
Workshop, one of several employee homes, the storage and drying barn, and an excellent soccer field where the employees spend after hours.
View from one of the owners homes.
The commandante trying to get a cell phone signal.