Antropofagia

Tropicalismo was a music movement in Brazil in the 1960s and 70s. To use perhaps an objectionable analogy, if you combined Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and Joan Baez together into a movement in the U.S., you'd have the equivalent of what became Tropicalismo in Brazil.

Except for one thing - the stakes and scale of Tropicalismo or Tropicalia as a political revolution were much higher than for Dylan, Hendrix, Joplin, or Baez.

At it essence, this musical movement combined rock, blues, samba, jazz, pop kitsch and psychedelic sounds with Brazilian and other Latin American influences. Like the expansively aware artists of the 60s and 70s, they combined all the musical elements of the day into a pop-rock sound set to the lyrics of social and cultural revolution.

In part, tropicalismo was an reaction against a conservative stodginess and comfortable coolness of high-minded bossa nova and bossa nova jazz that its musicians felt was not critical enough of the state of the oppressive martial law that had consumed Brazil.

The leading musicians of tropicalismo were Caetano Veloso, Gilberto Gil, Gal Costa, Maria Bethania, Rita Lee, Arnaldo Baptista and Chico Buarque.

During the 1960s, once martial law had taken control, everything was censored. Newspapers refused to print the officially sanctioned and edited military propoganda and ran cooking recipes all across the front pages of their papers as protest.

At one time, while performing a concert, the police raided the auditorium and shut down the concert because the musicians on stage were openly critical and dissenting - their lyrics advocated resistance with love. Like the American civil rights movement, tropicalismo advocated a Ghandi-style civil disobedience and opposition to the ruling government.

Caetano, an unapologetic left-wing activist singer and songwriter often compared to Bob Dylan and Gilberto Gil were jailed in 1968 for "anti-government activity" and then exiled themselves to London. Veloso's songs were censored and some were banned in Brazil. Caetano called their songs the words of sweet barbarians from Bahia. He advocated to all the political artists of the time, "Even though many armies invaded Rome with force, Jesus did more to bring down the Roman Empire with sweetness, forgiveness and compassion."

Once while talking about the culture of our countries, Patricia used the word Antropofagia in discussing Brazilian culture. She said Antropofagia is a word that cannot be translated easily to English with all it nuance and complexity of meaning. Antropofagia in a word means cannibalism. A literal translation of antropofagia hardly does justice to a notion that’s driven much of Brazil’s best art, music and literature for the past seven decades. Symbolically, in ancient and classical literature a snake eating its own tail, is called the Ouroboros and it too embodies this notion of antropofagia. Not only does the snake cannibalize itself, the symbol represents continuous change and the cycle of life.

In his book about the tropicalismo music movement, Verdade Tropical Caetano titled one whole chapter Antropofagia expressed in the art and culture of Brazil.

Brazilian artist Adriana Varejão provided a graphic definition of antropofagia in her Estudo do ‘Tiradentes’ do Pedro Américo (Reflexo de sonhos no sonho do outro espelho)” a Study of Pedro Américo’s Tiradentes’ (Reflex of dreams in the dream of the other mirror). Varejão took a classic painting depicting the quartered body of a fatally unsuccessful 19th century Brazilian republican revolutionary, made a copy in her own style, and cut that into pieces. The piece bled with multiple layers of antropofagia.

Patricia, in trying to define this phenomenon in perhaps pedestrian terms, said it is as if the revolutionary movement was swallowed by popular culture and then spit back out. Befitting this image was the fact that in 2003 Lula de Silva appointed Gilberto Gil, one of Tropicalia's leading musicians the Minister of Culture of Brazil. From being imprisoned for "anti-gvoernment activty" to being appointed cultural minister, the radical tropicalismo got swallowed by the culture as a whole.

A more cynical person might use antropogagia to describe Bob Dylan doing Victoria Secret lingerie commercials.

Caipirinha e Batida

I promised a few friends and family that I would come back with Brazilian drink recipes for the New Years. These recipes below are for one drink quantities. Brazilians usually mix up a big batch for friends and family and pour rounds for all. Size up as you deem appropriate. So here we go:




Caipirinha (little peasant girl)
(made with cachaça, Brazil's national drink)

Serves 1
1 lime, quartered
1 to 2 tablespoons sugar
2 ounces cachaça*
Ice cubes

Mash the lime quarters in a cocktail glass with a wooden pestle. Do not remove the pieces of crushed lime. Add the sugar and cachaca. Fill a tumbler with ice cubes and stir well. Should resemble picture above.

* Cachaça can be purchased at Brazilian speciality stores or better liquor stores in the U.S.

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Batida de Cupuaçu or Batida de Graviola (Soursop)
Serves 1
50 ml of cupuaçu or soursop juice (1.75 oz)
25 ml of cachaça (1 oz)
a splash of Nestlé or Parmalat Table Cream
2 ice cubes, crushed
Shake and pour. The table cream, which is considerably thicker than what we call heavy cream, can be found in most supermarkets. Frozen soursop (called guanábana in Spanish) can be found in the Latino or Ethnic section of your supermarket. Frozen cupuaçu pulp can be found in Brazilian markets around the U.S.

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Batida de Coco
Serves 1
50 ml of coconut milk (1.75 oz)
25 ml of cachaça (1 oz)
a splash of Nestlé or Parmalat Table Cream
2 ice cubes, crushed
Shake or blend and pour, preferably back into a hollow coconut shell. A pineapple slice makes excellent garnish.


You can also make this Batida drink substituting passion fruit for the coconut milk.

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Capoeira (from Bahia)
Serves 4 or less
1 can sweetened condensed milk
1 small bottle of coconut milk
1/2 cup of Creme de Cacao
1/2 cup of cognac
Blend until smooth, add crushed ice and serve in tiny glasses.

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Quentão

Quentão, which means "very hot" or "big hot one", is a hot Brazilian drink made of cachaça and spices. It is often served during Festa Junina. The sugar is first caramelized with the the spices, ginger and the peels. This mixture is then boiled with water for 10 minutes. The cachaça is added and boiled for another 5 minutes. A standard garnish would be citrus peel.

One part cachaça
One part water
Sugar to taste
Peel two oranges and a lime
Cloves, cinnamon and ginger to taste

It is very common in southernmost parts of Brazil to substitute the primary ingredient of Quentão, cachaça, for red wine, due to this region being the largest wine producer in Brazil

Oh-oh Frango!

Back to language. I've been studying Brazilian Portuguese and find it perplexing and fun.

Let's talk about chickens. The male chicken is called Galo, easy enough and the female chicken is called Galinha. The baby chicken or chic if you will, is called the pintinho But the teenage male chicken is called frango.

Teenage chicken?

What the heck? Why the differentiation? Trust me on this: you don't want to be a teenage chicken. Teenage chickens are the ones we eat, so your life expectancy as a male chicken plummets when entering your teen years.

Well, I guess that fact isn't really all that different than humans.

Spreading Holiday Cheer!

Patricia and I are back in Minnesota, just it time for snowstorms and to spread Holiday Cheer!

Click on this text to see animation! or if the link doesn't work, copy and paste this string into your browser: http://www.elfyourself.com/?id=1802891919

Boas Festas e Feliz Natal

For me Christmas and the Holiday Season is drifting snow, ice skating on the pond, sledding in the park, and jack frost nipping at your nose. My ideal Holiday landscape is filled with mounds of snow and huge feathery snowflakes filling the sky. Maybe its just a visual conceit but I'm not imgaging Christmas here on the streets of São Paulo.

But what do Paulistas know or care about my wintery northern predisposition? What do they care about snow?

When walking through the streets during the day we are easily distracted away from anything having to do with the festive world of Christmas. Patricia would probably agree, here in Brazil there is as much less retail and commercial hysteria around Christmas buying than in the U.S.

My sense is Black Friday has not struck Brazil for the primary reason they don't celebrate Thanksgiving (see earlier November 29th post on "how to" explain Thanksgiving to Brazilians) or mark the day after for shopping frenzy with 4AM box store openings. Additionally, retailers don't seem to pin all their hopes for success on the last three weeks of the year and the Christmas buying binge. Life is more meaningful than that here in Brazil.

However, when the sun goes down, São Paulo is transformed into a dazzling array of lights and building costumes. Along Ave. Paulista building facades become giant trees and ornaments for hanging lights and bulbs. Already baroque styled buildings painted in bright pastel and rich earthen colours get draped in cloth like ornamental tables in the Holiday dining-room.


All along the avenues and between the boulevards, indistiquishable grey cement forms and harsh wire mesh that fail to delight amidst the visual pollution and graffiti during the day, pop out with gusto and become magnificent glimmering light displays at night. The drumbeats of traffic and squeals of motor-boys horns as they make their deliveries is replaced by the bells of Natal.

After a walk in Ibirapuera Park, Patricia and I went into the highly secure upscale neighborhood of Vila Nova and behind the locked gates and priavte security guard was this little orament with the words "Let It Snow" inscribed on a banner above the head of a Christmas elf. Patricia and I had to laugh. It will never, in a million years, snow in São Paulo on Christmas!

But there is always the dream...

BOAS FESTAS (HAPPY HOLIDAYS) and FELIZ NATAL (MERRY CHRISTMAS) to all our family and friends who have been reading our travel blog since the beginning of December. We've truly enjoyed sharing this journey with you and our impressions of São Paulo, Brazil. We hope you will except this as our Holiday letter and greeting and our wish for a healthy and prosperous New Year!

Girl From Ipanema

In the U.S. we often associate Brazilian music with bossa nova, samba or maybe the frevo bands that play during Carnival. In the 1950s and 60s bossa nova became a world-wide sensation and even made its way onto the pop charts in America. Bossa nova was cool, hipster chic, and happenin among jazz enthusiasts.

As Patricia and I visited friends and family in São Paulo, I never missed a chance to ask if they knew who Astrud Gilberto was because it was Astrud who introduced me to the sounds of Brazilian music. I was shocked to discover that few Paulistas remembered who Astrud Gilberto was, although the name Gilberto is legendary in Brazilian music.

When I mentioned the name Gilberto, many people came back with the names João and Babel his daughter by another famous Brazilian singer Miusha. João Gilberto, most famously, is the father of bossa nova and one of the most influencial Jazz musicians in the world.

Astrud Gilberto was a female vocalist who sang with Stan Getz and brought bossa nova to America in the early 60s. Her sultry rendition of the song Girl From Ipanema sang with Antonio Carlos Jobim won her an American Grammy in the 60s. Astrud's voice was like nothing else I'd ever heard. Her heart rendering melancholy still had a thoughtful and sophisticated edge next to the pop lyric and a jazz nostalgia.

My mother Corrine had few record albums in her collection however, as a young boy, two of them stuck out in my mind -- Astrud Gilberto's Girl From Ipanema and another from Herb Alpert & Tijuana Bass with a beautiful woman naked in a mountain of whipped cream. As a young boy that album cover was the most erotic thing I saw before I could comprehend what erotic or sex was.

Next to her international sensation hit, Astrud is best recognized for singing Fly Me to the Moon (which she also recorded as a duet with Frank Sinatra), Day by Day, Corcovado (Quiet Nights of Queit Stars) and Brazilian Tapestry.

Astrud married João Gilberto in 1959 but they were divorced in the mid-sixties. Astrud is less known in Brazil but became an ambassador for bossa nova because she sang vocals in both English and Brazilian Portuguese at a time when American radio stations would not play any music unless the lyrics were in English.

In addition to Brazilian Portuguese, Astrud recorded Brazilian bossa nova in English, Spanish, Italian, French, German, and Japanese giving her a world-wide audience few artists gain.

Just as it happened here in the U.S. with Free Jazz, there was a backlash to bossa nova and Brazilian jazz in the late 60s and early 70s. The group of artists centered in Rio had become regarded as a egg-head musical elite and with the rebellion of the times, and the imposition of Martial Law, lines were drawn in the sand. You couldn't be successful and comfortable and not directly confront the military leaders without being seen as supporting its brutal oppression. Musicians like Roberto Carlos and João Gilberto were criticized for being priviledged and not taking a strong political stance against the military dictatorship that consumed Brazilian life.

During much of this time, Astrud was not in Brazil and was, instead, living in the U.S. recording and working internationally. This is probably why Astrud is largely forgotten by mainstream culture in Brazil. If you say Astrud was living in New York during much of the political turmoil of the 60s, Brazilian resent that she didn't come back and fight for freedom in her country.

Besides her five year marriage to João, few defining characteristics came to shape Astrud career. First, João had convinced her to sing in studio recording however she had extreme stage fright which prevented her from performing in night clubs and that limited her public visibility. When João and Astrud moved to the United States in the early 60s, the jazz singer attempted to overcome her stage fears by taking classes with Stella Adler in New York.

Astrud's acting classes with Adler lead to roles in two films Get Yourself a College Girl, The Hanged Man, and the sound track for Down with Love. In 1982 she returned to performing in nightclubs and I saw her at the Jazz Cafe in London. In 1992 she received the Latin Jazz USA Award for Lifetime Achievement and was inducted into the International Latin Music Hall of Fame in 2002.

Barraca de suco

All over South America and Mexico you must take time out of your day to enjoy the incredible barraca de suco (juice bars) and a selection of fruta fresca drinks made from mango, papaya, watermelon, passion fruit, kiwi, pineapple, coconut and other more exotic varieties such as caja. The fruit selections at the bar are not far from the areas where they are grown unlike most fruit we eat in the midwest. In Brazil fruit is picked only after ripe rather than green and then ripened off the tree. This natural ripening method makes all the difference in the world.

My theory is if you eat these fresh fruit and drink their juices regularly, you will be cured of so much that ales us in modern American culinary culture. Almost every meal we ate: breakfast, lunch or dinner, was accompanied by large pitchers of freshly blended fruit juice and the delicious taste of fruit is one of the most memorable parts of daily life in Brazil.

The International Morning Read

One of my greatest pleasures when traveling overseas is reading the International Herald Tribune (IHT). So after not having much luck trying to find an English language newspaper (The New York Times preferably) I was very happy when Mauro said he could obtain the IHT from his distributors.

When Patricia and I were in Toronto earlier this year, our downtown Yonge Street hotel offered us "complimentary copies" of USA Today each morning. The idea of reading USA Today each morning when outside the U.S. is very depressing. What a horrible newspaper!

After our first morning delivery, I called down to the desk at the hotel and insisted they not do me the favor of putting USA Today in my room. As a substitute they provided a copy of the National Post but I had to pay for it on my room bill. While Toronto's National Post is not the best paper in Canada, paying an additional charge was worth it if I didn't have to open the door and look at the USA Today.

But I've always enjoyed the IHT going back to the time when I was a graduate student living in London. At the time the paper was jointly owned 50-50 by the New York Times and Washington Post but its editoral was completely independent of either paper. IHT editorial offices were located in Paris and it was the first International newspaper to be flown into cities across Europe it time for breakfast Earl Grey tea, crumpets, and kippers.

The paper had an interesting history, originating in 1887 as the international edition to the old New York Herald. During the newspaper wars of the 1960s in New York and the weeding out of non-competitors, the Herald collapsed while the Paris International edition remained vital.

Most people living in London picked up the IHT to get box scores for the Major League Baseball World series in October, the Stanley Cup playoffs (I recall reading about Minnesota's 18 players beating the Russians and going onto win a gold metal in 1980 in the IHT), or tracking NFL football. I read it for the unique perspectives of the IHT columnists.

Yet, even with its play to homesick Americans, in many ways in the 1980s the IHT was better than the New York Times. Based in Paris, many of the American reporters and columnists had a distinctive world view. Writers were ex-pats who could see America through a prism of intimately knowing the country they grew up in and loved, yet, through distant lenses being separated from American daily life. The IHT always was a forward line in understanding the world reaction to America and it policies with the eyes and ears of foreigners.

I must add, however, I was a bit disappointed to see the current IHT running columns by Paul Krugman, Adam Cohn and Howard M. Wachtel about the CIA tape destruction scandal, Hillary and Bill stumping in Iowa, and the weakening American economy while drinking my morning coffee in São Paulo.

These New York Times regulars aren't living the life of an American in Paris. The publishers are simply repurposing the content written for the New York Times instead of seeking to provide a prism other than that whcih can be obtained from the NYT. This might be a recent devolution in the IHT's distinctive reporting and analysis since the New York Times became whole owner of the IHT in 2007 by buying out its partners.

Let's hope the Times editors and publishers see the value of an alternative world view other than one directed out of New York and written by New Yorkers with little day-to-day life experience overseas.

Picasso and Portinari Paintings Stolen, Uninsured

Paintings Patricia and I viewed just a week ago by Pablo Picasso and Cândido Portinari were reported stolen in an art heist from the Museu de Arte de São Paulo (MASP) on Paulista Ave on Thursday at dawn.

The paintings stolen, Picasso's blue period 1904 Portrait of Suzanne Bloch (see left) and Brazilian painter Cândido Portinari's 1939 O Lavrador de Cafe (The Coffee Worker) are valued by Christie's at between 50 and 116 million dollars. In an earlier blog (Vidas Secas) I wrote about Portinari's large three panel paintings but also recall vividly his depiction of the coffee worker with his massive forearms and incredible earth gripping feet.

Police are interviewing all 140 museum staff about their possible knowledge of the heist, searching for clues of a plan being hatched prior to the thief itself. The heist went down at approximately 5 AM precisely during the guard shift change. Over the last couple of months, 13 prints of paintings by masters in MASP's collection had been reproduced on glossy stock as posters in Brazil's daily newspaper Folha de São Paulo one of the two largest circulation newspapers in the country. The posters were intended to raise pubic visibility for the museums permanent collection.

Apparently, three men captured on security video cameras, boldly ran across the open plaza beneath MASP at dawn, leaped over the glass barrier and then gained access to a stairwell using a tire iron and jack. The jack was used pry under and raise a steel door (as shown in this picture from the scene). A fourth man remained outside the museum communicating by cell phone. The museums alarmed failed and the thieves escaped inside 5 minutes. The paintings, the musuem staff speculated were grabbed because they were small and easily lifted from the walls and carrried out.

Thursday's robbery is the first art heist in the 60 year history of MASP. The modern art museum was closed Thursday to aid in the investigation of the heist. The museum has reported that the paintings are not insured against thief.

MASP has come under a lot of criticism for not insuring their permanent collection valued at more than $1 billion. Many of the critics leveling their disbelief may not fully understand how difficult and costly it is to procure such insurance for a collection whose value is in a constant state of flux. To put a value on a Picasso or a Portinari is not as simple as a automobile or a house.

Instead of the millions and millions of dollars MASP would need annually to insure the collection, it is probably better to invest in better security and guard the work against thief than paying out huge insurance premiums. As the museum director Eduardo Cosomano stated, the work is invaluable and an settlement could never adequately compensate for the thief. Monetary compensation for an art thief of this dimension is a bit of an absurdity. Many art collections around the world are not insured at that's not just a third world or Brazilian problem as some of the first critics seem to want to suggest.

Brazil ranks fourth for the highest number of art thefts in the world, after the U.S., France and Iraq, commented Jose do Nascimento Jr., director of museums at Brazil's Institute of Heritage and National Arts.

While police felt the thieves might be in the employ of an art collector of dealer targeting the Picasso and Portinari (see right) paintings for a private collection, the museum administration commented that the thieves acted more like amateurs, passing up great works by masters to grab paintings that could be easily carried out. Experts speculated that professional art thieves would not operate in broad daylight and under the recorded eye of security video cameras.

Having just been at the museum and viewing these paintings, the thief feels a little bit closer and raw for both of us.

ADDENDUM: Mauro and Henrique told us by phone that the heist was the third attempt in the last couple of weeks at MASP, the first in October was by a group who tried to overpower a guard who did not have keys to the permanent collection and the second on December 17th thwarded by an alarm. The second attempt was not reported to the police by msueum administration.

Embu Natal das Artes

On Sunday we headed out to Embu just a few miles west of Patricia's home in Taboao de Serra. Embu is the Jesuit settlement constructed beginning in 1553 on a mission to convert local Indians and use them as farm workers in the region. This is one of the earliest settlements that evidentially lead to the huge population of the city of Sao Paulo.

In recent years Embu has been revived by Feira de Artes and Artesanato, a street fair of arts and artisans that make crafts, ceramics, woodcarving, play music with original Brasilian instruments, dancing and foods. Since 1969, the Embu Feira has opened every weekend and the surrounding streets are filled with antique shops and furniture stores.

Feira's are everywhere in Brazil from the inner cities with fruit, produce, meat, and spices to arts and to the villages were you'll find crafts and antiques but Embu is special for its arts and crafts as well as historical significance.

On this particular weekend in December there are special dances and musical groups in celebration of Natal or Christmas. The streets are bristling with shoppers looking for craft items and art to give as Christmas presents. I still find it difficult to image Christmas without the snow or see a heavily clad Santa with white beard and flannel red sleeves and cap and feel he is out of his element.

Patricia's friend and former teaching colleague Andrea is a single mother who lives in Embu with her teenage daughter Miriam. Andrea was first a English student of Patricia's and then they became co-teachers and, as Andrea pointed out, Patricia was her boss.

Andrea's daughter Miriam was very excited to speak with us in English. She is highly motivated to learn English and very much would like to follow in Patricia's footsteps and come to the United States to learn more English. Miriam also wears a kind of scarey tee-shirt with Ozzie Osborn done up with his goth make-up and goolish appearance. These are the kids who love America and find our culture fascinating.

Andrea teaches English in an American Catholic School called Chapel. Most of the Paulista kids who attend Chapel are privileged but Andrea also volunteers her time teaching English to poor children because she believes in committing herself to changing Brazil and providing opportunity to those less fortunate who cannot afford private Catholic education.

On the hill there is a very old Chapel called the Capela Sao Lazaro where Patricia sits on the front stairs of these sky blue painted front with beveled windows and white trim. We are instantly taken back 400 years when this chapel probably rested alone on the steep hill overlooking the valley. The simple Chapel with wood plank benches, floors and doors is closed for renovations at this time. Today small brightly painted buidling is surrounded by nice single family homes, well kept restaurants, and a newly revived nightclub and disco scene in the village of Embu.

Even though we must walk up and down hills that by Minnesota standards would be considered mountains, unlike Sao Paulo that feels like New York or London, Embu makes us really feel like we are in South America among indigenous people with a long history on this continent. Modernity has left the house.

Accessa Sao Paulo

Access to the internet in Sao Paulo can be extremely difficult. You can be sure in the upscale neighborhoods and private residences in the cities west end of Jardim and Vila Nova, high-speed internet access can be obtained for a price.

Mauro told me that he noticed a Paulista and customer who lives in Vila Nova had a Apple iPhone. As of this point in time iPhones are not available for sale in Brazil and there is no service plan. However in discussing the iPhone, this owner said that he paid over a thousand dollars for an unlocked iPhonethat he could manage to use under an existing plan in Brazil.

But I can say without question, the people of Brazil need better, faster and freer internet access! All power to the people!

Okay, so let drop the pretense of FREE. In Brazil, the web of government bureaucracy, as is being threatened in America as well, has been thrown over the internet by regulators. Sure, if you can show me the clear and straightforward way that restricting freedom of speech, of access, of communication and invading citizen's privacy will stop human trafficing, stop porn, stop violence of man against man, stop drug kingpins, stop the rape of the Amazon, end crime in our time, bring peace to the Middle East, and stop terrorism than I will grant them the tyranny over the people they govern. But we all know that is a ruse and the stratagem of powerful manipulators to control individual freedom for personal gain. And it is a joke. Throwing a yoke around the throats of free citizens will end none of these ills.

This is true in Brazil and it is true in America.

The Lan House we visit to post our blogs will close without notice. Just yesterday we were told by the grapevine that the Lan House was open. So I rushed in an started making my post. Then they pulled the security doors shut while I was still inside. The proprietor told us that we didn't need to leave but that inspectors were coming around and had been shutting down Lan Houses all day. The reason he gave was that the inspectors were looking for "Christmas tips" -- tis the Season!

But a new generation of Brazilians need to rise up and show that freedom of information is a powerful tool in building a better and stronger more informed society. And our generation in America also needs to rise up and tell our government to stop restricting freedoms of American citizens, stop invading their privacy, stop turning back science and technology to promote narrow and backward ideologies of power because it will only cause all the people to suffer.

One thing I am discovering about being in Brazil, a third-world country albiet a BRIC* one is that human dignity is universal. Our problems aren't that different and our aspirations very similar. We are both faced with the problem of governments what wish to exceed their proper role of serving the people and whose power is restricted and their actions completely transparent.

I frequently hear the axiom - "Freedom comes at a cost." Yes, it does. It comes at a cost to the powerful interests of tyrants and despots like Bush and Cheney who wish to abuse government power. Our founding philosophers and writers of our constitution were absolutely clear that government power needed to be restrained and limited. They understood the greatest threat to freedom is powerful intrusive government and not free individuals.

* BRIC is an acronym for Brazil, Russia, India and China and usually is used to describe third world developing economies with vast resources and a development strategy that is making them grow and prosper. Currently Brazil is experiencing economic prosperity but don't get into an argument with Mauro about who should take credit.

I made a joke and they laughed, finally...

That's right. Not all humor can survive the language barrier.

While eating last night I was treated to rabo de boi (Ox-tail) among a selection of six or seven other poteins. I imagined one night as I lay awake thinking, with all this food Odelva might be slowly pushing me closer and closer to a heart attack from eating so she can have her daughter back. Just a little thought, anyway...

My father-in-law Mauro is a hardworking and driven man who fights the traffic and tussle of commuting everyday to and from the Ibirapuera Moema district of Sao Paulo.

As the evening progressed, Mauro ate one serving of Ox-tail and then another big serving and then yet another our eyes grew with amazement. Finally, as he grabbed the dish for more, I exclaimed:

"Somewhere there is an Ox walking around without his tail."

And it brought the house down. We laughed and laughed. Hours later Odelva would break into a laugh and when asked she'd just say "Ox without his tail."

Ten Minnesota Truisms

There are a few Minnesota truisms I have been trying to impart upon Paulistas without much success. Maybe it is the language barrier but I suspect, moreso, it is just a healthy skepticism for anything that comes out of my mouth.

Often, the little tidbits of wisdom will pop from my head out of context during fast exchanges of translation which could also lead them to think something is loss in the translation and it is not only that I am crazy. Here they are:

#1: "It's not the heat, it's the humidity."

#2: "The bundt cake was invented in Minneapolis."

#3: "3M stands for Minnesota Mining and Manufacturing"

#4: "Rubarb, discovered in Minnesota has magical healing qualities and is known for soothing anxiety, calming aggression and can be used as anti-depressant." AND because of ruburb we have little need for psychology and psychiatric services.

#5: "It's important to dress in LAYERS"

#6: "Canned meat SPAM, invented in Austin Minnesota was decisive in making American the superpower of the world it is today."

#7: "White food can do little harm."

#8: "Post-it notes were invented in Minnesota as the result of a mistake."

#9: "Blood banks were invented at the Mayo Clinic" (I think when I first asserted this, in translation, they thought I said "Blood was invented at Mayo Clinic" causing them to be distrust all of my invented in Minnesota stories.

#10: "We have 356 words in Minnesota for snow."

Escritorio politico

Olivio Nobrega is a Brazilian politican. His smiling face, uplifted eyebrow above wire rimed glasses and his silvery receding hair can be seen waving on a banner above a sign that also reads ADVOGADOS TEL: 4771-1259.

Olivio has served this district in Taboão de Serra for as long as Patricia can remember switching parties many times on the federal level. He currently serves in the Vereador a tier of government that would be similar to our city or Metropolitian Council.

But there is much more to this story.

Nobrega owned one, two and three of the shoulder to shoulder houses along the street where Mauro and Odelva reside. In one of these houses Olivio lived and raised his family. Another remains the offices for his adult lawyer advocate children Eduardo, Karina, Ferruanda, and his daughter-in-law Luciana Calandra. The other flats he rented out as homes and businesses to augment his elected offical salary.

Quite like Brooklyn New York, politicians in Bazil are oft regarded with contempt and are considered piviledged as well as corrupt. Certainly, a politician holding public office will earn more than a workingman's wage and probably appear to be barons by anyone living in a favela. But most start out as idealists wanting to change society and right the wrongs they have witnessed.

I am fairly certain politicians are not paid enough to get wealthy. Graft, on the other hand, such as in the time of Tammany Hall, or The Shame of the Cities might be more commonly assumed and wide-spread in the political culture of Brazil.

But one momentus event ten years ago caused Olivio to move his family off on this side street in Pinheiras Park.

While living in these modest quarters of mixed income residents, Senhor Olivio's teenage son was kidnapped in highly public hostage-taking act of violence. There is no question Olivio was targeted because of his public profile and his family observed by a gang of criminals who carefully research their victims and hatch schemes to collect ransom to earn a living.

In his book Cidade de Deus (City of God), Paulo Lins who grew up in a Rio favela describes the pull of the gun for desparately hopeless youth and basically how they execute holdups, taxi robberies as well as carjacking as a means to raise money for Canaval celebrations, buy dinner for a sought after girlfriend, or a single nights joyride. Mundane reasons for such grandoise action. Lins' book, when originally published lead to a public outcry and eventually the incredble Oscar nominated film by the same name directed by Fernando Meirelles.

If you can view the photographs of Tuca Viera now on exhibition in December at MASP, particularly Paraisopolis or Menino e Pistola by Andre Cypriano, you will gain a powerful visual bookmark for the wild turbulance that lies just barely underneath the surface of modern Brazil.

What strikes me is how the violence and stratified division has evolved to the point of being commonplace. Patricia's dear friend Luciano told me last night, "Sometimes I fear we are headed for a civil war here in Brazil. The violence has become a part of us. It's accepted." He went onto say after a awhile you don't feel moved by the shock of violence anymore.

Dramatically, Olivio's son was held for many days while captors negiotated terms with Olivio for his release. Kidnappings are common to Brazil and are often successfully undertaken by bandits who have perfected the techniques of apprehending targets, collecting their ransom and then quickly disappearing into the secret inner protected world of the favelas. Obviously, these carefully planned kidnapping are not as random as armed robbery or carjacking.

When Patricia was a teenager and worked at her first job at a bank in Taboão, the manager's family was kidnnapped and manager was instructed to empty money from the bank vault and deliver it to a isolated area without telling the police or anyone else, otherwise the family would be killed one by one.

After the son returned home, Olivio understandably moved his family out of this neighborhood. Frankly, I am surprised he still has his political office here and so many of his family members who felt tramatized and their safety violated by the kidnapping have retruned as advogadosto practice law in the very place they were violated.

It is one of those complex ironies of Brazil.



Olivio Nobrega's web site

Politics and civil discourse

Mauro and I like to talk politics, perhaps made more easy by the fact that we cannot really debate directly, except by aid of translation, he rants about his favorite dufus, Brazil's President Luis Inacio Lula da Silva (Lula) and I try to out rant him with my favorite dufus idiot President George W. Bush.

On some level our sentiments agree as long as we remain loyal to our countries and criticizing the incompetence, with great patriotism, of our leaders.

The other evening, while eating Oxtail, Mauro began explaining how Lula, as he is both affectionately and contemptuously called, wanted to make a temporary tax permanent. Mauro alleged that Lula was trying to claim his administrations economic policies were working as evidence the strength of the Brazil Real against the American dollar.

I told Mauro that America dollar is worthless everywhere, that even children begging on the streets of India refuse to accept American currency [see International Herald Tribune , Dec 15-16, 2007] because even they know it is worthless.

"Exactly" Mauro exclaimed, "Lula can't claim credit!"

"Bush must take the blame!" I passionately proclaim.

The reason, I say, is because the war in Iraq is costing Americans a billion dollars a day and Bush refuses to even count our debts against the revenues raised each year in taxes. Consequently, America must borrow these billions from China, Saudi Arabia, and other Asian and European countries.

"There is no confidence in the American dollar." I retorted and in this kind of parallel debate, it all works out for both of us.

And then we just grin at each other because what can we say? Not enough to offend.

Pronto do São Paulo?

Are you ready to do São Paulo?

After threading ourselves through the city many times there are a bunch of things you need to consider when coming to São Paulo aside from avoiding the intense level of automobile traffic surging daily through the streets. These are practical problems you will encounter day-to-day unlike any other city in the world.

First, each car in São Paulo is restricted from driving in the city during rush hour one day a week. For instance, if you have a license plate number ending in 3 or 4, you cannot drive between 7:00 AM and 10:00 AM and from 5:00 PM to 8:00 PM in the inner city zone of Sao Paulo on Tuesdays. If you do, you will get a ticket even if it is the day you plan to fly out and need to get to the airport. Know your restricted day and plan around it.

Second, in most outlying neighborhoods, you will need to pay someone to watch your car when it is parked on the street. This is a kind of bribe to protect your car gifted in the form of a tip. The strange thing about this is that the parking monitors have no official status or license. The unofficial guardians are often unemployed guys after a tip and their administration of duty might be spotty. Also, it can be difficult to ascertain which guy hanging out on the sidewalk is the unofficial monitor for the street where you wish to park.

The upside: these parking monitors usually give great customer service unlike the particularly unfriendly and unhelpful staff at the art museums, shops, banks, and indifferent waiters at places you might reasonably expect friendly service and instruction. Parking monitors understand good customer service can reward them financially.

Third, in the inner core of São Paulo the parking monitor system isn't in effect. However, posted next to the street where parking is allowed, you will find a blue box that says you will need to purchased a ticket (the paper sheet resembles a lottery scratch card) with days, hours, months, etc scratched out.

But unlike the lottery, there is no fixed price for the parking and you don't always know where to purchase these parking vouchers. On two different occasions we paid 3 reals and then 2 reals and hour to park near Ave Paulista. The blue tickets are usually not in effect on weekends and only during business hours during the day depending on the street.

Go the the nearest bar, restaurant, or street news vendor and ask where you can buy the parking voucher. Hopefully they speak Ingles or you are carrying a Brazilian Portuguese phrasebook. Be warned, having a blue card does not offer protection from breaking and entering like the monitors do in outlying districts. Always hide anything of value in the trunk of your car or take it with you.

Fourth, when driving in heavily congested São Paulo traffic, you will quickly notice a swarm of motorcycle messengers who fly around your automobile like locus in West Texas in October. These motorcycle dare devils drive very fast down the center strip between cars stalled in a traffic jam. São Paulo is quite unlike any other city for the numbers these drivers running all day and night. You must be hyper-alert to everything going on around you to keep track of the danger they pose to your car and themselves.

Fifth, banks both private and state run in São Paulo are very difficult offices to access. Due to high security, going to a bank is probably one of the most harrowing experiences you'll encounter in Brazil. You will be thrilled by the polite and courteous help from the unofficial parking monitors and happy to give them a bribe after experiencing the extremes of banking customer service. It is just wrong to call the treatment "customer service."

If you need to go to a bank, plan on spending and afternoon or at least a couple of hours. When you walk up to the bank you will notice a bunch of guys standing around with guns. Do not yell at the guys with guns. When you enter the vestibule they will ask you a series of questions and type a bunch of stuff into their computer terminals. More guys with guns. Remember, if they have a gun and a uniform, it is their job to shoot and kill people who act strange, erratic, or angry.

Essentially, bank employees are trying to determine if you have legitimate business and an account with the bank. If you do the will pass you onto a checkpoint more daunting than TSA at airports and these guys also have guns and banish them visibly. Don't taunt them.

You will then be forced into a revolving door that traps you like a rat in a cage if you have metal items on you. You should have placed all metal items in a basket to pass through the system separately. There are far too many false positives and customers get enraged.

Once inside the employees are reluctant to help and provide prompt and polite customer service - not all that different than American banks frankly. The bank tellers are amazingly lax about money and you have very little privacy. If you are exchanging cash be careful because people are watching and you could become a target once you leave the bank.

Patricia told me about customers getting so angry trying to pass through the cage that they stripped all their clothing off down to being completely naked.

Now that's Brazilian Caraval!

Santos e Bahia

The city of Santos today is thought of as the place where the greatest futebol (soccer) player and statesman in the world Pelê played the game. Founded in 1535 and located on the coast a hours drive south of Sao Paulo, Santos became a rich harbor for the export of coffee after the Scottish came and built the tram.

The train revolutionized the economy of the entire region when its powerful pistons allowed exporters to move large quantities of coffee beans out of the mountains to the market rapidly. Brazil is now the largest exporter of coffee in the world. Santos and Sao Paulo consequently became wealthy off coffee and it all began here in the port of Santos.

Brazil also has the largest population of Japanese in the world outside Japan. Immigration of the Japanese to Brazil began in earnest after the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-05 with almost all ancestors coming through Santos harbor.

In one huge wave of immigration, roughly 150 thousand Japanese came to Santos bound to labor contracts but once freed of their obligation (they had to buy their freedom from the bosses) they moved to Sao Paulo to a section of the city known appropriately as Liberdade or Liberation. In Liberdade the Japanese numbers grew and the prospered. This year Sao Paulo is celebrating 100 years of Japanese assimilation.

BAHIA

Almost everywhere you look in São Paulo there are signs of the immigration of the people from the state of Bahia. near the equator. Patricia's mother Odelva is from Bahia. Baiano cuisine brought down from this hot climate of the North and coastal regions is more piexes (fish) based than carne (meat) and often associated with pheasant food.

The Baiano in São Paulo are regarded similarly to the poor Southerners from Mississippi and Alabama who relocated to New York - often with contempt or embarrassment by upper class society. Bahia is associated with discount furniture marts, street food, heads of fish swimming in you stew, and black magic.

Baiano moved to São Paulo reluctantly due to severe draught but kept together with solidarity and pride in their heritage and cultural traditions.

Odelva told me that when she arrived in São Paulo in the early 1970s at the age of 17, she already had three sisters living in this massive city of immigrants. Yet, Odelva could not find her sisters. As a teenager she was employed by wealthy Paulistas in their homes - given food and lodging but no salary or income - she was an indentured cook.

Years past before Odelva realized she might be entitled to a wage or that she possesed the rights to free herself from her labor.

As closely as my in-laws have been able to figure, Odelva left Cruz das Almas and Mauro Timbauba on exactly the same day at the same time without knowing eachother or being incited to this harmonious seminal beginning.

Henrique has arrived

All Henrique needs to be happy is peanut butter and apricot jam from Trader Joes. Patricia´s brother arrives from São Carlos where he is studying chemistry and USP. Henrique will now enjoy his summer break to return to classes in March after Carnaval.

Like most men in their early 20s, he sleeps all day and is out all night. However, being a Brazilian, once awake his first impulse is to run down the street to a local escola (school) yard and play a pickup game of futebol with other guys from the neighborhood. For Henrique, playing futebol is a workout regiment but it is also a national passion and birthright.

We are having troubles making our connections the the internet. I feel a little bit like a bandit trying to slip into drak rooms and ask if they have an internet connection. Not speaking Ingles, the proprietors frequently do not understand what I am asking for and even if they did their are such a variety of ways ´internet connection´ can be misunderstood. I am either offered something I am embarrassed to have to turn down or the connections involve complex registrations, paying of elaborate fees or a background check. Legit business people fact hurdles and obsticles to just being open during regualr hours.

Don´t touch that dial, we´re working hard to bring you the news from São Paulo!

Tchau for now!

Comida de rua

In any large city, London, New York, or Tokyo with a foot mobile fast-paced hardworking population you'll find comdia de rua (street food). For New York it is pizza-by-the-slice, bagels with smear, knish, babka and other wonderful Jewish deli delights. In London you will find fish-and-chips, sausage pasties and rolls, and Greek gyros. Tokyo has its sticky buns. All items you can buy on-the-fly and eat on the go.

In São Paulo you will find exactly the same items that make for an inexpensive lunch between appointments or just off the subway. If anyhting, Paulistas prefer the savory to the sweet. This list of items will cost you approximately a buck a piece and go very well with a visit to the barraca de suco (juice bar) for incredible manga, passion fruit, pineapple and watermelon drinks.

Coxinha -- chicken and cheese inside deep fried dough

Empadinha -- pie-like crust filled with heart of palm and baked similar in name to Chilian empanata, however, can very widely depending on preparation

Pão de batata -- a potato bread baked with spiced chicken

Bolinho de queijo -- cheese filled dough that is deep fried

Pão de queijo -- cheese mixed with a bread-lke dough (no four however) and baked until golden and crispy on the outside and gooey on the inside

O PÃO NOSSO DE CADA DIA

Every morning the padaria makes crusty little loaves called pãozinho with an exquisitely golden brown crust that splits across the top and has a light soft white fluffy interior.

These bread loaves are so much like bread sold in France, Mexico, and that I remember most distinctively from living in England. Even the smell wafting down the street in the morning is as warm to the senses as sunshine. Wrapped warm in small brown bags, with blue inked crested logos and sayings like "Give us our daily bread" there is nothing like this bread to feel you've finally left America and with good reason.

On Mauro e Odelva's street you will hear each morning a variety of sounds and melodies as street vendors come selling aqua (water), propane gas (this truck plays a distinctive melody you might associate with ice cream trucks in the US), and tamales. Odelva tells me there are two different tamale makers and she listens to the call from the better of the two. Patricia laughs when I marvel at the convenience of having these mobile vendors come selling.

AQUA DE COCO

Coconut water is the magic rejuvenator of life. For roughly a buck and a quarter, a street vendor whether on the beach in Rio or walking the sides streets near Ave. Paulista will grab a green coconut fresh off the tree and using a Facão (machete) will whack off the head and foot, then cut a vee-shaped wedge to make a hole in the top and slip in a straw. With this in hand, the desperate feeling of heat and humindity seems less overwhelming. A good vendor will chill the coconut prior to cutting so tha water is cold.

Ah, the joys of big city life!

Vidas Secas

In modern Brazilian art there is a generation in the history of this massive country that touched the minds and imagination of all poets, artists, and musicians alike. From 1920 thru the 1950s, a draught struck the Northern regions of Brazil, the rivers dried up and healthy propserous people as well as the poor started to perish.

The Vidas Secas (Dry Lives) contain harrowing stories of entended families that packed their vital belongings and began walking south along the river beds twoard cities like São Paulo.

Not unlike Ireland's potato famine, the Vidas Secas radically altered Brazilian society and remains a perminent mark in the psycological inheritance of its people.

At Museu de Arte de São Paulo (MASP) there is a tryptic of three large paintings Os retirantes by one of Brazil's greatest modern artists Cândido Portinari that if you have one will move your soul. The six foot tall canvases have, for Brazil, the equal impact as, perhaps, Picasso's Guernica has for Spain. Each panel depicts a taddered family of nine walking the dry river bed against a ravaged, desolated horizon and heat scorched earth. The sky is filled with the black shapes of vultures waiting for a meal of human remains. [The first panel is shown here]

In the center panel, the youngest child dies and each family member wails a river of tears resembling stones. Not even their tears produce needed fluid. Portinari´s brush makes you feel their wretched and unbreable loss. The final panel shows the mother fallen to her knees, hands desperately raised, fingers extended as if to ask God to take her too. The child is buried - the exodis goes on.

What strikes me most heavily as I sit for many minutes staring on a benched positioned in front of the three paintings - situated perhaps to cushon the emotional intensity - is when a Brazilian menina, of approximately 10 years old, approaches the canvases. I feel almost as if I want to step forward to cover her eyes as if I have witnessed a grostesque automobile accident with a beheaded body next to the road.

For days following of visit to MASP, I imagine I can see in each heart of the Paulistas I meet the unshakable sorrow of the Vidas Secas.

APOLOGY

Patricia tells me that the Vidas Secas is the title of a required text all Brazilian school kids are required to read by Graciliano Ramos about a family that transverses the Northern river beds for their survival. This families fate is similar to the one depicted in Portinari´s painting except for one detail. It is not a child who dies during the migration, instead the family dog. Still, the death of Baleia (the dog´s name ironically meaning whale) is as devasting for its innocence and pathos.

Fotografica

Across the street from casa de Mauro e Odelva is Foto Murakami a photography business run by a couple going back 25 years to when Patricia was a young girl. Although this is primarily a residental street and area, every third or fourth building houses a small family business, essentailly in its street level garage.

At our home in Saint Paul, we have portraits taken of Patricia and Henrique when they were children by Murakami. Senhor Murakami is Japanese and Lubelia, his wife, is from Portugal. While Patricia is having her hair done, basically a two to three hour process of going to a private residence rather than a salon, I am left to try to fend for myself. I go directly for Murakami Foto, thinking of course, that we share the language of photography and digital gear.

In our broken form of communication, Lubelia speaks little English and I speak even less pouco Portuguese, she was able to tell me a few things about their photography business. Shops like these are peppered all over the residental high streets of São Paulo. First, Foto Murakami is now completely digital. Senhor Murakami uses a Nikon and Lubelia owns a 10.1 megapixel Canon Digital Rebel. Surprisingly, words like megapixel and Digital Rebel are common across cultures.

I am also able to ascertain, without English translation, that the Murakami´s are also videographers and do a good business in passport and mandatory military registration fotos. Lubelia is adament in telling me she uses mini-DVD format for video and not VHS, even though they sell VHS tapes in the store.

Odelva is able to tell them I work with photography for a revista (magazine) in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

"Mini-so-dah" Senhor Murakami and his wife Lubelia repeat over and over, "Mini-so-dah" as if they are amazed there is such a word in any language.

Mercado dia

Saturday is market day and we walk down to the end of Patricia´s street to the vendors who line the twisting hillside drive with their Mercedes, Fiat, and Toyota trucks and from which they roll out the fresh vegetables, fruits, and meat. The small vendor who makes a sweet cloudy drink by pushing a reedy stalk of sugar cane tempts us. Patricia and Odelva buy a prickly vegetable, Maxixi native to Brazil that when skinned and chopped is very much like a cucumber and belongs to the same family.

My job is to assist the meat vendor with sharpening his knives and promote the State of Minnesota among these rolling hills of Taboão de Serra. You can be sure nobody knows what Minnesota means or where I might be from, however, the meat vendor is very friendly and offers and thumbs up to my efforts. Nothing like being a friendly ambassador in Brazil for America. Viva Minnesota!

Chegamos Vivos no Brasil

Driving in from Guarulhos International Airport you´ll see a bunch of vendedor de rue selling products to cars, trucks and taxi stranded in traffic waiting to change lanes. The vendors sell cell phone chargers, seat beads, steering wheel grips, jumper cables for your car as well as candies and munchies for your stomach. Our taxi drivers tells us the current São Paulo Mayor is cracking down on the vendedors, sending the polícia out to confiscate their product inventory.

Motorcycle messangers speed between the lanes of stalled traffic in acts of daring that leave us with shock and awe. Our taxi driver also tells us that deft motorcycle thieves drive by the car windows slowly trying to spot any bag that looks like it might contain a compuiter. If stranded in traffic, the thief will point a gun in the window and demand the computer bag be handed out and then speed away. I will test my theory that I can negotitate with them, if the opportunity presents itself, and if it works. Standby for proof of theory.

São Paulo has one of the highest crime rates in the world.

The roads this Friday morning in December are hectic. São Paulo has just experienced one of its legendary downfalls of rain that causes traffic crisis and locks up the highways and city streets. Drivers trying to get across the city are very aggressive. Motocycles messangers live an extremely dangerous life under the best conditions. Patricia´s father Mauro tells us 3 are killed everyday in São Paulo.

After bringing Mauro back to his newstand business, we arrive safely in Taboão de Serra at Odelva e Mauro´s casa and, of course, Odelva has prepared a banquet of food.

Carne (meat) is prepared in a roll and roasted with vegetables and bacon rolled inside. Arroz (rice) is served with every meal including those already heavy in starch like pasta and potatoes. Fruta is kept aside for the dessert course.

Leaders are Readers

I am in the magazine publishing business and Patricia's father Mauro is the master of magazines in the business district of Sao Paulo. This, I feel, is a bond we can explore once I get to Brazil and we meet.

Mauro has a voracious appetite for the news and reading magazines. He often knows more than I do about breaking events and world stories about the U.S. Most certainly, Mauro knows more about Brazilian futebol, Formula 1 racing, and all the subtle shadings of Brazilian politics with its dozen political parties from Communist to Republican, workers parties to business, and Greens to Social Democrats.

This morning Patricia and I were driving to work and on the side of a delivery truck a sign read: "Leaders are Readers: Buy Magazines" and the motto struck a cord her her heart as being a very nice statement.

I'm sure Mauro and I are in total agreement.

Minnesota Snowstorm

December 1st, Minneapolis and Saint Paul, we got hit with a winter blizzard. As we did our last minute preparations for our trip to sunny Brazil, the winds blew in with a magnificent yet brutally shocking blast of cold and snow.

Patricia and I dashed all over town trying to get our tasks done. As harsh as the wind and snowflakes lashed against our faces, there is still a lot of joy and beauty in a fresh winter snowstorm. We drove slowly. We failed to make our appointed times but still enjoyed the white powdery blanket. Patricia kept her beautiful smile no matter how biting the cold. I love her for her unrelenting happiness or, at least, putting on a good face.

With a 50 degree point spread in temperature, I think it is safe to say we are looking forward to summer again once we step on the ground in sunny Brazil! Yappy, ya-hoe I yah!