Last night our shower exploded. Actually that was this morning, techinically - around 5 AM, but seeing as we had not slept yet, it seems like last night. Seeing that we (or rather O Maridão since our workplace has seen it fit to give me almost NO hours, knowing we need the money and all) has the next 3 days off from teaching due to the Easter holiday, there was a multiple friends' birthday party last night that we decided to attend. O Maridão saw this as his opportunity to party hard for the first time since graduation (especially since no driving would be done, being that our car is being fixed for countless problems), while I have come down with a cold and upon arrival was reiniciated to the fever and coughing I had had the day before. So he drank some while I rested on one of our friend's beds.

Sometime around 12 AM I felt a tad better and went to rejoin everyone. Meat was passed around, along with many bottles of beer (they even had to do ANOTHER beer run, because they had run out - when we had arrived 2 hours before the fridge was FULL of beer), and everyone seemed to be having a good time. I hung out restlessly, trying to avoid cigarette smoke, and drank an entire liter of water in half an hour. Sometime around 1:30, a birumbau appeared and a man by the name of Lorimbau began playing some traditional songs on it, over the din of the downloaded music of the computer, the portable CD player blaring something else, the television on in the "living" room right off the veranda, and everyone talking. Everyone yelling to hear eachother, will yelling the songs as well, and doing random little dances (no capoeira though), it was getting rather ridiculous. I'm amazed no one else in the building complained about not being able to get to sleep.

By the time I layed down again to rest it was after 2:30 and people were drifting in and out of the living room where I lay, trying to talk to me very quietly over all the noise. This does not work well for non native speakers, and I spent most of the conversations asking people to repeat what they had said because despite reading lips helping my listening comprehension, I DO have to hear you to understand you. Most people got tired of it quickly and went back outside where the air was more livre.

O Maridão woke me up and stumbled about around 4 AM, and we caught a ride home with his cousine (taxi's got enough of our money for one day). Somehow drunk men take longer to pee than women, and we finally got out the door and into the car at about 4:30. Anyone who has taken care of a drunk loved one will know it is really hard to do when that loved one weighs more than you, especially when you yourself are not feeling well. After some prodding, I got O Maridão to go upstairs to take a shower while I made him something to eat.

In the midst of pouring water into a glass, I heard a strange "buzz buzt buzt" sound. It sounded very much like when the street light out back was having issues with rain and sparking and sputtering. I stopped and listened for it again. Then I called O Maridão, suddenly worried that the shower he was in had blown up. He answered. I asked him what the noise was. He asked ME what the noise was. I came up stairs and he stood there dripping in the hallway while we debated what the sound had been. It was not the shower he was in. Nothing had been running down stairs except the light in the kitch and the gas stove. Nothing had been running upstairs except the hallway light. A light had been flashing in the pool area for weeks. It was now out. That must have been it, I summerized. But why could we smell it so well?

We turned on lights in various rooms, and finally happened into our own bathroom, full of smoke (this all took about 10 seconds). Some years ago, this shower head had blown up while he was in it, I have been told. Shortly there after he had an electrician come in to fix it and install a ground wire that runs all the way down the outside wall of the condo into the ground. This type of feature is almost unheard of in this country for some reason, possibley because showers don't blow up that often. You'd think when you are using a normal electrical current to heat up water that is passing over your naked body into a large puddle of water on the floor to go down a metal drain, that it would have occured to some engineer that the safety of the contraption was in question. Not so. In any case, because of our ground wire, the shower head didn't blow up itself, just the electrical part did, showering the wall in black goo and filling the bathroom with electrical fire smelling smoke. So, the ground did it's job. Question is, WTF is wrong with our wiring that in a country that showers don't blow up very often, it happened to ours TWICE? It's like a revisit to a guy I dated in highschool who's house burned down, TWICE. What are the odds of that happening?

The other pecularity is that there was no apparent reason for it to blow up. It wasn't turned on, there was no water running in it, no one had even been in there for at least 24 hours. No power grubbing appliances were being run, like the microwave, at the same time. There only power being used on the upstairs circut was from the hallway light. A 60 watt bulb. The mystery remains. Needless to say, no one is going to use that shower until I am satisfied with. And I think that's going to take someone REALLY professional (I'm talking electrical engineer here) comming in and checking the wiring. It might even involve breaking into the wall a bit. At this point I'm even afraid to pee in there, so something has to be done. And I have to pee a lot. At wierd hours.

I updated it, and I am alive. But I lack motivation.

Yeah, so I haven't kept that new web page updated yet. I've been busy. This week and last week there is/was testing for placement at work, and since they haven't given me any groups to teach during the week (only one on Saturday), I have been raking in the extra hours to try to help feed us. Too bad it will all be over in a week, and then I have to go back to being left out at home. The cats will like it though. They get all cute and fuzzy and purry when you spend the afternoon laying around with them.

Being pregnant gives me distinct memories of that horrible Alien movie that I saw when I was too young to see it (not to self, do not let Juliãn watch horror movies before he is 10). I can sit here and watch this lump move around under my skin. It's quite facinating, and not at all distressing, but then I remember those scenes of Sigorne Weaver and the strange moving thing in her stomach, before it shoots out of her and attacks someone. I wonder why the writers of that movie decided to put that kind of parody into it. I'm sure, somewhere out there, there were some really offended pregnant women. Maybe the writer was a guy who really wasn't happy about being father. Maybe he was creeped out by being punched or kicked by his child to be through it's mother's belly while he was trying to do something kinky. Maybe he was likening the moving thing in the belly as the thing that destroyes or takes away your life, in a symbolic sense, so took it literally here instead. All in all, it is an unfortunate comparison, after having experienced it my self. I recommend having an alien in your belly. I've heard that's what some babies look like when they come out too, like small cone heads. So the comparison goes on.

I have been in and out (mostly in) my place of work for more than 12 hours now. It's starting to get to me, especially since someone's cell phone keeps ringing in here, the same one about every 3 minutes, as if the person calling doesn't really believe that that teacher is really teaching, but that she is actually standing here, staring at the phone, refusing to answer it. I had thought to look for it and answer it myself just to tell them that who ever they are calling really isn't here, so there is not point in wasting their money and energy on calling them back repeatedly. But if I did that, I wouldn't have anything to write about, now would I? There it goes again...

Nothing else terribley exciting is really happening here these days. Maybe that will change later in the semester. I was really wanting to go eat some cake at the snack bar, but it closed early. No cake for me. (The phone is ringing again) I have replaced my caffeen addiction with one for chocolate (another great source of caffeen), so lack of cake is sort of a crisis. I'm going to go home and have some chocolate milk.

Rotisserie, I have been corrected.

I was thinking of something exciting when I logged in here, but my lack of sleep seems to be affecting my memory, so I have forgotten what I was going to write. Oh well.

I have become a roticery. (I don't even know how to spell that, I hope it's right.) I don't want to be a roticery anymore. Due to stretching ligaments, or rather the fact that they are so loose, they hardly hold anything together like they should now, I imagine I know what people with arthritis feel like. I cannot sleep at night. I just turn over and over (hence the roticery), trying to find a way to sleep that doesn't hurt my aching legs, make me dizzy, or crush my protruding belly. Air conditioning seems to make it even worse, and makes my nose run, so we're not having any of that either. Poor Maridão is feeling so hot these days, I might just have to pity him and go sleep in the hammock some nights. But then again, he still sleeps, even if he's hot. I'm not really sleeping at all these days. It sort of feels like the beginning of the flu, but I know this flu will last another several months, so that's sort of discouraging.

Today we are supposed to have lunch at my Brasilian mom's house. It's like an oven in there, no shade and on the top floor. You just sit there and sweat. I only bother to shower in order to cool off now, but I get hot and thirsty just thinking about being there. At least I don't have to do any dishes. Or cook.

We have been having a vast amount of winter like rain this summer. At least in the last two weeks. The only difference being that during the summer, much like in Michigan, there is thunder and lightning and you have to run around and unplug everything electronic that you care about, and you should not take showers.

Yesterday, the rain came on so fast and so hard that the main road flooded, or rather the sewer over flowed. Maybe a little of both. Utter chaos ensued apparently, because most of the traffic started coming up our street in the back, including the buses, which alerted us that something was array. We wandered out to take a look and found a stalled car in the middle of a massive lake that covered the road, sewer channel (basically a ditch with a river of pee and poo, covered by some flimsy cement strips that the occasional pivete steals by night), and the newly cleared graveled area across the street. A bit farther up the street were two cars facing the wrong way for the lane they were in, not moving, as well as another car that apparently was trying to back out into traffic from a nearby parking lot and found it's self stuck in the lake. The dead car guy got out and tried to push his car out of the way, in all that brown and warm rain/sewer water, but was unable to move it much by himself. Shortly there after, a bus that was stuck behind him parked and several men got off to help him push it up onto our road and out of the way. With all that water, covering the entire road, in 7 short minutes, it all disappeared into the sewer ditch to run down and flood somewhere else, before being dumped either into a treatment plant (maybe) or into the river and eventually the ocean. As my mother would say "STORM WATER NIGHTMARE" - at least it's not such a worry that the water is warm when it hits the ocean here. The water is warm anyway, it's summer.

I finally updated the belly pictures page, so the gigantizing of my abdomen can be seen by clicking the link on the left. I'm also adding one that I hope to keep updated - very simple, just with random shots of whatever happens during the week. At least that will take less time to do. Check out the "This week in Bahia" link.

I realized I married a crazy man when at a party I witnessed a half hour presentation of an improvisation song about "cofrinhos" - otherwise known as butt cracks. This consisted of each of the men getting up, singing a 4 line contribution that they made up on the spot, pulling down the back of their suits, and dancing the butt crack dance.

More stories later.

My sogra came to visit. Our home becomes a bigger confused mess every day.

Engrish at Salvador's airport:
Rotative parking (I think they mean temporary parking or day parking)
Lot of "axé" music at this carnaval

The book my mother sent 8 weeks ago finally showed up. Juliãn's new game is to kick me where it tickels, just as I am going to sleep. I can see where this is going. At least now I have something more to read at night when he's keeping me awake.

With the help of the sogra, we bought a couch finally. She had a serious conversation with us over breakfast, starting out telling us that she knew it was our home and we did things as we wanted, but there was something that made her very uncomfortable. I thought she was going to talk about us sleeping naked or something, but no, she meant that when people come to visit (her friends specifically), she was very embarresed that they had no where to sit. So, at the prodding of one of them (who seems to be full of shit since she told Zi that she could buy a couch for R$150 at Iguatemi), she volunteered to pay for it. However, when she saw the actual prices of couches here, I had to volunteer to pay for half or so. Here's to credit cards, and friends who are a pain in the ass apparently. The couch is a dark red color and will match very nicely with our long term plans for the room downstairs.

Zi is home now, after a day out with several friends, so I should probably go keep her company, since there is nothing else to do. At least I should get my butt out of this chair and go eat a bannana or something. Inconsolable hunger is one of those draw backs to pregnancy. I am never quite NOT hungry...

The baby's room is painted! We changed our minds about 5 times in the process, but I really like the results. Now, we just need furniture and stuff. I'm sure he will love the colors for some amount of time, and then sometime after 10 years old, he will hate them because they are baby-ish. And then he can paint it any color he likes. In the mean time, it's colors I like, so that's what's important now...

I'm melting!!!!!!!! Melting!!!!!!! Melllllltttinnggggggg!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wow, three entries in one week. Can you tell I'm on vacation?

Today, I learned three things.

One: boys should not wear white. When they wear white, they get stuff on it that takes half a bottle of Shout and lots of scrubbing to get out. There is a reason that generally only gay men wear white pants: they don't go playing with two year olds in the dirt and slide around on wood work in them. Julian will not be wearing any white pants, you can bet that.

Two: when doing laundry, make sure that the drainage hose for the washer is in the sink and not BEHIND the sink, lest one create a 10 gallon or more flood in the kitchen, laundry area, and storage area. At least here no one likes to have things touching the floors and they are all tiled, so it's relatively easy to clean up, just a pain in the ass and a little precarious for slipping. Everything that was on the floor waiting to be washed is now soaked and trying to dry in the last sun rays of the day. This includes two especially old and gross pillows which probably will not dry before tomorow. The cats actually tried to tell me about the whole situation at one point - I sat here typing away to mom and they both came in and meowed at me and sat at my feet for some time, but I was too wrapped up in the conversation to notice what they were telling me. Eventually, they went to lay down in the other room, figuring if I didn't care, they wouldn't either.

Which leads us to number three: Always pay attention to your cats' messages. Especially if more than one of them is trying to get your attention for some reason. They are fuzzy and close to the ground, but not stupid and could save your life one day. Or at least 45 minutes of your valuable time from being used to clean up gallons of soapy water.

I am supposed to sleep now, and the baby is super active. Then, when I am resting during the day, he's all quiet and composed. Mom says he's playing soccor. In the last five minutes, he has kicked me in at least 6 different places a dozen or so times. I was going to go to bed, but it may be a waste of time...

See this is the problem with procrastination. With all the extra time on my hands, and not having written anything for so damn long, it's always the issue of what's the problem with waiting a little longer... Part of my excuse is due to my computer crashing right at the end of the semester and I am still not back online with it yet. It's just so depressing every time I turn it on and have to remember how much work I have lost and have to redo in terms of installing programs etc. And things are not working right that used to work. Ug, I have to stop thinking about it.

Xmas has come and gone, like any other day here, still like being eternally stuck in a hot Michigan August. Since it's actually celebrated on the 24th, it was rather uneventful. The 24th consisted of many visits to other people's houses, including one where Meuamor played Papai Noel (=Santa Clause) for about 25 kids who were so incredibley excited about his visit that he wants to do it again next year. Actual Xmas day was spent sleeping in due to said late arrival of Santa then delaying our return home until 3 A.M., and then being proptly woken up by Marina singing Bob Marley on the answering machine in an attempt to encourage our arrival at the beach. This was a necessary trip because of Kerido Kevin's family visiting, but by the time we arrived, they were actually leaving, so we headed to another beach and met up with several parts of the family with whom Santa visited (including some of the kids who were surprisingly convinced that he DOES exist) and spent the rest of the afternoon going in and out of the water to cool off, seeing a lovely sunset over Pituba, and then joining the rat race journey back to our humble, toasty abode. Watching movies with cats is how I spent my Xmas evening - how bout you?

Today we are back to the "virgo" mode of organizing and cleaning the house up for painting and such that is to be done before the end of the year (fat chance), but at least it's getting rid of a lot of crap that is sitting in the storage room. There is just boxes of stuff in there to give to street people or anyone who comes to the gate to ask for something. And none of it will be taking up the valueable space anymore. Its very liberating for everyone but the cats who have been shut up in the bedroom all day because of all the open doors and dust. So now they only get to sleep all day in one room instead of in several rooms. Hasn't seemed to phase them at all.

The baby is a BOY! And I think we may even have settled on a name: Julian. I think. I like it. Meuamor is "digesting" it. He likes to be awake when I am going to bed and kick me in the bladder when I really have to pee. And in the father like son sense, at 4:30 A.M. when Meuamor is flopping around like a fish in bed, the baby is doing a very similar motion in my belly, and I lay there thinking "there are two of them in bed with me" and cannot get back to sleep. The cats have not yet really noticed much of a difference I think. When they do will most likely be when he comes home from the hospital and they never forgive me for bringing this small, hairless other wierd looking cat into their home. Actually, I am sure they will forgive me, but boy are they in for a shocker. They are both deathy afraid of miniature people, especially when they are big enough to move around and try to touch them.

It's 11:45 here, and I should go be a good wife and try to help get all that shit we dragged out back inside in some fashion. This will go on until 2 A.M. if I don't give him a "pila" somehow, I fear.

I now have a CPF, which means I am officially recognized and trackable by the Brasilian government. Health insurance card came too. Just in time for all my mountain of blood tests etc that one must get when pregnant. Unfortunately, to prevent fraud and the like, things like ultrasounds are not covered until January, and things like the delivery procedure are not covered until August (I think the baby will not wait that long, so....).

What a depressing day. At least I'm all the way down here and don't have to look at him on television all day...

This week I thought I was feeling much better, but then on Monday, in the midst of eating my lunch, I suddenly saw all I had eaten again. So now the puking feeling has moved from being just a feeling to a no-feeling-but-then-suddenly-a-reality kinda thing. Only one more month of this, right? Less than that, going into 11 weeks tomorow, so it should be all hunky dory in less than two weeks...

I also have been told I am much bigger than I should be. Some have speculated there is more than one miniture person in there. I suspect I am just getting fat. Why, not sure, because I haven't really been eating anymore than I usually did, but I sure as hell don't bother to try and suck it in anymore.

Most all of my students know now. I told my favorite class as sort of an announcement, "In addition to doing page 56, I also wanted to let you know that I am two months pregnant." They were very excited and quized me on dates, feelings, and names during the next class. I even had one student listening to my stomach for a while, although I told him there was nothing to hear yet. He's sort of a special student - you know the type - very lazy, does the bare minimum, but so intelligent that you let him get away with it and love him anyway. His nick name is Butter, and I cannot keep him in his seat during class. His mother is also a teacher, so I'm sure she knows how he is. I hope the Pimentinha will not be like that...

The cats have decided that the top of a desk is a good place to sleep, which makes lesson planning a bit difficult at times. Currently Lela is asleep right here, next to the lap top (at least she is not on it). This is all fine and dandy except for when I come home to find a good chuck of fur in the keyboard or the number lock turned on (took me 20 minutes to figure out how to turn it off). Tomorow they will go visit their new vet. I'm sure they are very excited and just don't know it yet.

HOPEFULLY, I will be going to the doctor tomorow to see what's going on in there. This is providing there is an appointment open tomorow, since we have not been able to call them. If so, there will be ultrasound pictures posted tomorow on the Belly website (now listed on top at the left). If not, well, be satisfied with the belly pictures until further notice.

Being pregnant makes you seriously tired. Everyone says this and says it's normal, but it is SO different to actually experience it. I sleep almost as often as I did when I was in the end of Crew season last fall, but on top of that I feel like I want to throw up much of time, have a hard time tolerating heat in the air, and at times I almost want to pass out. I don't want to do too much social stuff because I get much more tired much more quickly when I have to talk to a lot of people. And teaching... Well for those of you who have never been pregnant, imagine that feeling you get when you have been out drinking all night, then the next morning you wake up, feel tired, have a headache, generally want to puke and don't want to move much. That is about what being pregnant feels like. This is the longest I have been out of bed in about 7 hours. We had lunch with Barbie and a couple of her American students and then I came home to crash. Meuamor got up to attend a party for one of his students, but I just couldn't take the thought of going out and being social with a bunch of people I don't know when I feel like I might keel over at any moment. So here I sit.

I started drinking real milk here. I had not before, was quite satisfied with the soy milk flavored with vanilla, but since recent events have come into play, I find it to be entirely too sweet some times and down right gross at others. Milk here only comes in boxes; there is no refrigerated section like in the U.S., and is manufactured in some other way - milk I am currently drinking was processed and boxed some times in June. So now we have real milk, which tastes distinctly like the powdered milk and water mix that I used to feed to baby cows at my friend Laurie's house when I was 11. I never tasted the mixture myself, mind you, but the powdered milk dust would float all over and get on you and in you, including in your mouth. Drinking milk now brings back memories of the smell of cow manure, cold icy mornings at 5 AM, trudging out to the cafe barn and being pushed around by baby cows that weren't much bigger than me. They were cute, smelly, and slobbery. I kind of miss them.

Speaking of which, I'm gonna go drink some milk now...

Ramp with a small movement.

This is the sign heading as you walk down the docks to the ferry to Itaparica Island, in the middle of the bay of Salvador. There were numerous discoveries of Engrish made that day when we went to go visit some friends there, but I neglected to write them all down. I'm sure they will still be there the next time. I met some other gringa's on the island, and was told by a store keeper that she would charge a gringo almost twice the price for a pair of sandles than she would charge a Brasilian. How lucky we are.

This has been a nice long weekend due to the holiday (one of many) and I am not looking forward to going back to work tomorow. Ug, work. Ug. All we did was visit people, go to the beach, get sunburned.... What a joy.

Several other amuzing events:

On the ferry boat to the island, Meuamor decided to jump off 2 minutes to shore and swim the rest of the way there. He stood up, stripped to his tangerine Speedo, and jumped in. Others on the ferry seemed to think this was normal.

Pondering why the cats had neglected to use the freshly cleaned litter box, I took a closer look and found it was full of ants who were stealing the litter, for uses unknown. This is a nightly ritual apparently. No wonder it gets everywhere.



Oh, and one other noticia: I'm pregnant.

Engrish in Brasil thus far (and other nice mixes of language that I find funny):

The cat litter we originally used was called “limpi cat” and now we use “cat bom.” The latter seems more appropriate considering some of the things we have cleaned out of that box.

When looking for a traditional U.S. can opener, I came across a suction cup toilet paper holder that was labeled “Fiction cup.” The suction cup actually existed, however.

There is a chewing gum here called “Happy Dent.” Happy teeth, I know, but saying a dent is happy is so much funnier.

A neighborhood area in Rio Vermelho has a sign labeling it as “snuggly.” The buildings are close together, but I don’t get a snuggly fresh feeling from being there. (if you get this reference, then I know you have watched many television commercials during the 80’s and 90’s and possibly do laundry)

I noticed the other day that the dish towel in our kitchen says “eggs are pop.” I’m not sure what that means to Brasilians, but to someone from Michigan, pop is a carbonated drink – known in some other parts of the country as soda or Coke. Meuamor says “It means eggs are popular, like every likes them and eats them.” Okay, yeah sure…




Gestures have tripped me up more than once here as well. It is difficult to describe them, but I will attempt.

There are two very similar gestures that involve the shaking of the hand in the air, with the pointer finger and the thumb together as if they are holding something. If you wave this gesture across a strait line at the waiter, it means “please bring me the check.” If you wave this gesture in a somewhat diagonal or downward motion, apparently this means something related to smoking a joint.

Waving good bye, with your fingers stretched out strait and then closing the hand so they meet the palm, opening again, closing again, etc, has been tripping me up repeatedly. This is the most common way for me to say “good bye” to students as they leave the room, or people at work as they leave the building. What it often results in, however, is the student or person returning to my side, wanting to know what I want, since here this gesture means exactly the opposite – “come here.” Before someone clued me into this (I believe it was some time in July) I had caused tremendous amounts of confusion to both myself and my students and coworkers several times over. I still forget much of the time and have to explain to people what I mean when they come running back to my side. The problem is that gestures are so NATURAL, it’s difficult to change them. I think I may have to change my good byes to be verbal only.





Today we were discussing American foods that we missed and now I feel inspired to bake things that you cannot find here. However, I’m still afraid of the oven and I am sure that being South of the equator is not going to make a difference in my amazing ability to burn things, so I think that the baking will have to wait till I can get some supervision and assistance – i.e. not tonight. I want my cook book. It’s still in Michigan, with my mother. Who needs a cookbook when you have your mother? Now I’m here and I have neither. The cook book would be cheaper to send here, so I’ll settle for that temporarily

I am alive, and married. But also busy. Teaching has taken over my life. How unusual...