One year!

Nossa! Today is the one year anniversary of when the plane landed in Florianópolis and our Grand Adventure really came true. We had packed our bags, we left New Hampshire and arrived in Brazil with Three Tickets to Paradise. That old Eddie Money song became our theme song as we looked for an apartment, figured out Willow’s school arrangements, bought cell phones and, in general, lived abroad. It was funny and scary and beautiful and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. We made friends for life and learned so much from that island!

Well, enough sentimentalizing! I said that this blog would write about our one year adventure in Brazil. With over 160 posts and zillions of photos, I think I have done just that. We are still saying the long hellos to our old friends and places, so our adjustment still continues. I see Willow’s eyes glaze over when new people ask us, “How was Brazil?” “Where were you?” “Tell us all about it” for those who are not interested or able to read this blog. But for each person I want to show my excitement about this wonderful year.

It is a challenge being home. We got a flat tire. Some old mail scam from our old workplace declared we had credit problems when we don’t. More married friends may be separating. The US news is full of accounts of fear and terror. Sherman and I give each other a hug and try to see the big picture. The crickets sing and the owl hoots outside.

Since we are back home, some assume that the blog will stop. And I agree that I probably will not post very often now that the one year mark has arrived. But I imagine that there will be some more adjustments as school starts, and my new job begins, and we continue to keep up with friends in Brazil. So this may not be the last line!

I like reflecting on my experiences through writing. I find that if I pull out a blank journal, my hand cramps after one page of cursive and, of course, you cannot edit in pen. But since Sherman is on the computer many hours of the day, I compete with a sense of urgency to be able to write down my thoughts. Perhaps I will make a new blog titled, “New Hampshire and its Wily Ways!” Who knows. But thanks for reading, Mom and Dad!

The biggest mountain of all

Willow and I have been on many hikes in Brazil. It is impressive how she has held up on 3-4 hour hikes to a secluded beach over a mountain and through the rainforest, or along a cliff overlooking the ocean. But yesterday’s hike was the hardest hike she has been on, and she succeeded in climbing Mount Monadnock for the very first time.

This mountain is known to be one of the most-climbed in the world, a claim that surprises most because it is not the highest or in the most exotic place. Because it is located in New England, there are a lot of tourists who come during the summer and fall who want to hike but do not want to spend a week in the woods. Monadnock has a 360 degree view at the top, where you can see several states because there aren’t other nearby mountains. So families can hike up and down in four hours and get a great reward.

I like hiking because I usually don’t decide when to hike Monadnock until I wake up in the morning. It was going to be a hot and dry 90 degrees, so making it to the top would be a cool reward. Willow’s first reaction upon waking was “O, no!” She knows when I say we are going on a hike, it is not a short affair! But that was the end of the tired girl. For the rest of the day, she said things like, “I love hiking with you, Mom!” and “I really like nature.” Actually, she talked non-stop the whole way up and down the mountain. Hilarious!

As we drove to Jaffrey, we were shocked out of our socks to see the iconic New Hampshire tourist site: a moose! We were tooling down a back road, and a moose slowly crossed the road in front of us. We were the only car that witnessed this, and I stopped to watch it pass into the woods. Its silhouette was humongous! Willow said that it was a moose monster. She was so impressed with her first moose. Wow. It was at least 7-8 feet tall up to its antlers! Why is everything here seven feet tall???

We hiked the white arrow trail, my favorite trail on the mountain. I don’t know why- it’s just what I know best. We lumbered over the granite steps that people have climbed for hundreds of years, where they built hotels and women used to climb even in heavy skirts and heeled shoes. We passed the carved rocks with names in them, the erratic boulders, and views along the way. We stopped more than I am used to, but Willow showed me things I never slow down to notice. We saw swarms of flies moving their eggs from one place to another. A monarch butterfly mistook me for a flower and tried to land on me. Without the usual wind, the buzz of a horse fly rang in our ears. She looked for fairies in the moss. We noticed sticky sap gathering at the bottoms of trees that had been worked on by woodpeckers and creepers. She crushed rock upon rock to make a mica-filled dust which reminded her of playing in kindergarten.

It was really cool to hike this mountain with Willow because it means so much to me. I hiked Monadnock only days before we left for Brazil. I didn’t know what to expect and remember trying to get focus before we made such a big change.

And when she climbed hand over hand over the bare rocks and reached the top ahead of me, we admired the great view with only a handful of people present. We stood on the highest rock and turned around the world. And then we ate peanut butter sandwiches and the best plums ever as a gift of making it to the summit. We hung over a rocky cliff and she lay on her stomach and propped her head in hands and looked down on the world. I was so happy. She was so happy. She raced around and made a kairn of rocks with a pointing rock just like Kaia the Nez Pierce Indian (whose name means one who arranges rocks). It was a great day!

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The New Hampshire jungle

After two weeks back at home, there are still a dozen bins of “stuff” on our sunporch waiting to be unpacked. Apparently we can live without all of the objects in those containers, because we have food, shelter, clothes, books, lovies, and cats. But where to put all of the memories, the glassware, the files, the journals? It is a long process of “unpacking.”

Meanwhile, I am proud to say that within a week of arriving home, I found a job working with a company that brings college-age international students to the US on their holiday for a work/cultural exchange! I am very excited to start on Monday and it is exactly the type of work I was hoping to find.

I can’t tell you how much mental energy has gone to finally getting Willow re-enrolled in her school, but we are all very happy to be where we are now. For a little girl who wants to learn how to weave a basket with weeds because she is reading about the Nez Pierce Indians in American Girl stories, I think her school is the right place to encourage her artistic imagination! I just shake my head and tuck her in bed at night!

Where would you get weeds large enough to weave a basket, you may ask? Our back yard, of course! Two days ago, Willow and I put on long sleeves and dared ourselves to explore our garden jungle. Our tenants did not garden, so this year our garden grew weeds. Impressive weeds. I have never seen an abandoned lot grow such healthy, amazing weeds! You cannot see from one side of the garden to the other, and the block of weeds tops out at SEVEN feet tall!

I was hoping that perhaps a tomato plant or a cucumber vine was lurking deep within our “forest,” so we ventured in to see what was growing. The most common weed, Conyza canadensis, or horseweed, covers about 80-85% of the garden. It is the tallest, with almost nonexistent white flowers and long, delicate, lanceolate leaves. There is a bunch of Echinacea purpurea (purple coneflower) at the front gate, and bunches of Daucus carota (Queen Anne’s lace) on the edges of the garden. I found it funny that almost all of the other normal weeds had been crowded out at this height. Our biggest discovery was that our faithful untended bunch of rhubarb was still growing, and I picked a few stems for eating even at this late date. Otherwise, no other vegetable grew that I had planted in previous years. I am disappointed by agriculture! I did find two or three stems of Nicotinia with its white perfumed flowers that I had planted last year.

Willow and I had a grand ol’ time just walking forward in this maze. Burrs from some of the weeds stuck to us, making the passage difficult and occasionally thorny. As we pushed aside the horseweed, white seeds flew everywhere. I could only imagine what this would do to my allergies, but they did not materialize. We literally could not see each other after several feet! I rediscovered the wooden planks I had put in last year, which were invisible from eye level.

Well, the crickets adore our new field. We have so many singers! It makes me happy every night to hear them. We took time afterwards to discover a kick ball left in the woods and I taught Willow the rules to dodge ball and we played for a while. Black crickets leaped in every direction every time the ball hit the grass! I liked hearing the punch of the airy ball and I hope that we spend more time in our yard, just playing around.

Sweet memories!

I took this video on Willow’s last school day when her friend, Gabriella, came over for a visit and dance class. They decided to make up a story together on the spot, so they took turns making up a few sentences and then passing the story back to the other. Sweet memories! We miss you, Gabi!

Well, I understood enough of the story that it is about two different kinds of flowers (pink and blue) that were fighting in a war. They all lived in a Lagoa and they sent white singing flowers out to fight. They asked the fairies to rescue them from the war. But they always fought. That’s about 80% of the story, I think!

This also reminds me that Willow got a cold the day we were leaving, which resulted in a very husky voice!

There’s no place like home

It takes a community to move us back to home! Thanks to the generosity of family and friends, Willow and I put the miles on the highways between North Carolina and New Hampshire. We had a fabulous summer with everyday bike rides and family gatherings, sun and sand, stories and some good ol’ TV!

By the time we reached the New Hampshire border, Willow and I were singing a version of “99 bottles” to the number of miles left to get home according to our GPS system. We oohed and aahed at the many changes to store fronts on Main Street. There was a band playing in the gazebo. We dreamily gazed at Mt. Monadnock in the distance. The smell of fresh, fresh, fresh country air greeted us on the way home. I remembered this smell of hemlock, pine, and shadows from the oak trees. I noticed in the northeastern US how the highway trees all seemed to grow straight up, as if they had been shaved to stand up straight. I missed the umbel-shaped flowering trees of Brazil. They had style. But here, the trees of home were wild and familiar.

Willow was warning me how she was going to get right out of the car and hug Daddy and see those two gray cats of ours. As soon as the car stopped, we both tore out of the vehicle and ran like bats out of hell into the house. We hugged Sherman and took a look around us. I blinked. I couldn’t see the whole downstairs in one gaze- our house was huge!

When I left the United States, I lived in a very small farmhouse. The ceilings were low and the steps were steep and the bedrooms and bathrooms were small. Now I live in a castle where you can’t see the living space in one look! Rooms go on and on and claw-foot bathtubs await a good hot soak! Elegant dishes and a sparkling washing machine and dryer are ready for use. I could live inside my refrigerator it is so big! National Public Radio trickles in from the living room and my grandfather’s clock ticks on the wall. Home!

It took awhile for us to find the kitties, as they took cover when they heard people approaching. They had been used to Sherman’s writing retreat where only the sounds of computer keys interrupted these last days. I discovered Quigley under a bed and he quickly warmed up to me and purred his way into my heart again. When Willow first saw him, she laughed silently until she cried. Dinah took her time, and eventually popped out to kiss and play with us all. They are both fat American cats, with full bellies and lazy ways. They have been turned into cats-who-eat-treats, which means that they were left alone with Sherman! Sigh… 🙂

We have shown up at the Colonial Theatre to watch the CAKE kids perform and said hello and hugged some great friends. We ushered at the Players and saw “39 Steps” and laughed our heads off at the show. How I missed these dear places and people!

Everyone should try leaving your house to someone else for a year. It is incredibly interesting to find all of the things that other people do. It shakes things up a bit. We left our furniture, our dishes, and some of our artwork, so it really was move-in ready for tenants and homey. They decided to switch the furniture in our living room and our dining room. What a brilliant idea! Our long-skinny living space became the perfect place to dine, and our limited living room furniture became a cozy space to relax in the smaller room. I never would have done that if I had stayed home. It sounds unimportant, but it just shakes things up. Our garden is a six-foot-tall block of flowering weeds!

We are well shaken. Sherman is always typing, I’m sneezing, and Willow is playing with the cats and clacking on her Smith Corona typewriter. I am unpacking and planning, settling and surprised. There are treasures in every box, and laughter behind every “That’s different….!”

Focus on Work

I have been blessed to work since we have arrived back from Brazil. My mom had surgery just after we arrived, and so we pitched in to help around the house, the garden, or at the grocery store for her in June. It was good to keep my body busy during the transition as my mind noticed the differences between the two countries I bridged. Sometimes I was here, sometimes my mind was there. It wasn’t my home, but it felt like home. We unpacked all over my poor mother’s house! And we learned to do things differently. It was very generous to be able to land some place where we were so loved.

Then we transitioned to a new phase, where Sherman needed to return home to New Hampshire and we looked forward to visiting my Dad and stepmom. We learned to shift again. I was lucky to be able to help (as much as I could) with my Dad as he built a patio. Digging was hard work, and I tried to edge my way in to keep my body busy while my mind was distracted. It felt good to be reminded to be in the moment, to appreciate the sweat and progress towards a physical goal. My Dad had to prove that he could work longer and harder than anyone else, until we all gave up on him and went to the beach!

The Atlantic Ocean should be the same body of water here as in southern Brazil, but it is like a distant cousin. The waters here are a much darker color, and even feel less “salty” than in Brazil. Is that possible? The warmer waves here are much smaller, even though the North Carolinians take surf boards out to the sea. The expanse of flat landscape is foreign to me here compared to the granite mountains looming near the beaches in Brazil. The mountains there separate little beaches along the coast. The clouds are even different. The sunsets here are gorgeous, but hazy and the colors bleed into each other. Brazil is more “in focus.”

Focus. I have been up late reviewing the job opportunities every night for our return to Keene, and some applications have been submitted. Let’s hope that I am blessed to work hard when we land in the Elm City, home sweet home.

Red, White, and Blue

I know that I’m sentimental. I can’t tell you how much I can taste Brazil- how much I miss our friends and how much I feel so inbetween worlds. Without completely embarrassing Willow, I will say that she has received tender words from a boy with love in his heart. She’s writing poems. She thinks in English, but her Portuguese is still there for now. She tells us stories at the dinner table about what the kids there would play, or what a friend said.

But we are also basking in home and America. We passed through a cemetery today, near a house I used to live in, and I stopped to take photos. It is Independence Day, and although I know that neither Willow nor I entirely grasp the tapestry of our country’s history, we paused to look at the graves decorated with flags who fought in past wars. She decided to sing “My country, tis of thee” at the top of her lungs in the cemetery. What a ham!

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My Birthday and our Anniversary in Americana

Family is good. My birthday and our anniversary were celebrated with fun and surprises. After dinner at a restaurant, Mom gave us a night at a victorian Bed and Breakfast run by a family we know and we had a blast! It was truly amazing to peek out every window in the loft and take time to be together. Willow painted a ring for me, Sherman surprised me with other fine sparkles, and I surprised him with a bag full of backyard fireworks. The Fiery Frog was the hit of the night! It was a shiny green thing with flashing eyes and sparks coming out of its head. We all squealed with laughter! We shared ice cream cones with Sherm’s mom and our niece Eva, who happened to be in town. We ended the evening with a drink at a dive bar called Quigley’s, in honor of one of our cats waiting for us at home. The green lighting was a nice touch and made us appear leprechauny.

Since then, Sherman has ventured to the land of New Hampshire to plant an American flag in the earth and claim his land. I’m just kidding about the flag part! The kitties have been returned home, and are hiding in the recesses of our 200-year-old home. We are soon off to NC to visit my Dad, Jean, and family. 🙂 It certainly IS going to be a new adventure!

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Starry-eyed

Willow and I have been going to the community pool, where I lived every summer afternoon as a child. It hasn’t changed much! We have frolicked in the aqua-blue chlorinated waters, stretching our bodies as far as they would go from one end of the Olympic-sized pool to the other. We laughed and challenged each other to try new things in the water, and I relented when she refused to slide down the water slide.

She quickly noticed children she knew from the camp she has been attending, and Willow thrilled at chasing the boys in the shallow end. It surprized me to hear Willow’s name being called over the din of children playing, and we grinned at hearing it prounounced the American way (Wil-low instead of Wee-low)! Sometimes Willow and I spent time independent of each other; she in the four-foot waters, and me in the five-foot waters. I guess we are both only children, content to float and swim and flip and explore on our own.

In fact, we celebrated the summer soltice in the water with friends. It alarms me how late the sun shines brightly here in the evening, as I was used to the shorter days in Brazil. It has taken us several weeks to awaken our bodies and realize this gift of light! We welcomed the very hour of summer in the water playing Marco Polo.

Marco Polo is a popular game where one person is “it” and calls “Marco” with their eyes closed. All other people answer “Polo” and circle around the person who is “it.” “It” tries to tag someone just based on hearing alone, and it is funny to see how people chase each other in the water. If someone sits on the side of the pool, the person who is “it” can call, “Mermaid on the Rocks.” If someone gets out of the pool to get away, the person who is “it” can call, “Fish out of the water.” Then that person is “it.”

The real Marco Polo was an explorer from Venice, Italy who left with his father and uncle at age 17 to explore Asia. They met the Emperor of China, and saw India and Japan over 24 years of travel. His book about their voyage was the first introduction of Europeans to China. I suppose the pool game is a tribute to traveling and not knowing where anything is!

There is an American flag flying high at the community pool, and I get starry-eyed to see it. I count its red and white stripes as it flaps in the wind. I can’t put my finger on it, but I’ve been incredibly thankful and all-patriotic since I’ve been back in the United States. I really don’t know how to say how appreciative I am to have a US passport, that gives me the privilege of traveling freely to many, many countries. I know that there is corruption in every place, but I feel some trust here that people do have a say in their government, if they choose to. I am not forced to vote- it is a privilege that I try to education myself as much as possible before making a decision. If I need a blood test at a hospital, I don’t have to get on a waiting list for months. I just feel the positive things about being an American- the expanse of our country, the possibilities for education, the roads, the hospitals, and the independence.

While in Brazil, things were different. I kept a low profile, though most knew I was a foreigner, and if I didn’t speak, sometimes I passed for an Argentinian or Paraguayan. I avoided the expat community for the most part. I was embarrassed at Americans, who are loud, and pushy, and hurried. The English language is so ugly in the midst of Portuguese on the public bus. Why are American tourists so tall and white? Don’t they have any diversity? But Brazilians, for the most part, seemed to like Americans despite all of our faults. They like our jeans, and our music, and our interested in our opinion about our crazy politics. Some think we’re all rich.

I guess I do feel rich. I want to see a baseball game and watch lightning bugs and listen to the train pass through town on the back porch. It feels pretty good to rediscover America.

And the wheels on the bus….

We signed Willow up for a morning camp while here visiting family in PA. She did not pause at all when she was dropped off at the church basement for crafts and games. After two weeks of being introduced to people as the girl who is “fluent in Portuguese” and “spent a school year in Brazil,” I think she just wants to blend in with the crowd. It did not surprise me when, on the first day of camp, children were asked to say one special thing about them. She said that she “likes kitties.” I don’t think I know of a girl that doesn’t like kitties, so I see it as a sign of “Look- I’m normal!” She’s allowed that!

On Day 2 of camp, they were going to go on a field trip to Parker Dam, to take a walk in the woods. I walked her to camp and we saw a new local high school yellow bus pull up to the church. Everyone was quickly dropping off their kids, and Willow didn’t even turn for a kiss or hug, so I let her join the group and melted into the background like the other parents.

After I walked into town, I realised the moment had come: Willow’s first school bus ride! Unlike many others, she hasn’t ridden a school bus to her independent school. And any field trips have been in parent’s cars. We were excited to ride buses in Florianopolis, but we did this together, and I never saw one yellow and black school bus while in Brazil. (Honduras is crawling with old US school buses, which serve as public buses.)

I knew that they had to pass down the main street, so I planned to wave to her from the sidewalk. Then I recognized someone walking down the street- my mother-in-law, who happened to be running errands in town! Next thing we knew, the new sleek yellow school bus was heading down the street. We waved our arms like only family would do, large enough to embarrass whomever is the target. But as I assumed, the kids were too excited and just settling in their seats to notice some women flagging them down. I saw the kids were wearing brightly-colored bucket hats (which they had decorated the day before) and a gaggle was in the rear of the bus. Willow was one of them.

I didn’t cry, but it was a moment. And I didn’t miss it.