Back to Earth: D.C. Continued

After the movie, we found Ernani and decided to go to the apartment Margaret and her parents were renting for the time they were spending in D.C. It was at the end of 4^th Street, so only a few blocks away from downtown. They had parked nearby. We climbed into the car and made our way to a grocery store right next to a Metro station only one block from the apartment complex. We would be able to easily make it back via the Metro to our hotel and spend some quality time together with Margaret and her parents without distractions. It was and ended up being a perfect Friday night.

At the store, we bought wine, chocolate, cheese, bread and crackers, and some kind of meat I avoided. I say we bought, but David paid and would not let us contribute. I watched Ernani as David bought four large bottles of wine. Ernani was surprised at the amount. I knew this family, through Margaret and my time with her. I knew we would kill these bottles and I knew it would be good quality food, wine, and fun. And I knew we were being accepted as part of the family, at least for tonight.

The apartment was perfect for vacation and David told us they had learned long ago to find a local rental. It was cheaper than a hotel and allowed them to shop for food and relax at a place like home. They could shop like locals as well and in D.C. this is a big advantage because of the Eastern Market and the kinds of good food they have there that you can buy and take home. This is not something a tourist in a hotel can always do.

We unwrapped our packages, poured the wine, and got down to the business of learning about each other, and for Margaret and I, catching up. Her parents are wonderful and I knew that David, a lawyer, would have a lot to share with Ernani, a law student to be (by this date he is taking his first classes, but then, we were a couple of months from that experience).  And in no time, we lost the men. They talked about law school and politics, Margaret and Katie and I went out on the porch.

Katie was a teacher for the deaf at a school that helps the deaf learn to speak. My best friend in the world is deaf and had this childhood experience, so we talked about that, how cool cochlear implants are, how they are creating children who are deaf but really are not, and how controversial for some deaf communities the CIs are, about AG Bell (my friend is very involved in this great organization), and about teaching in general. Margaret is also a teacher and loves her teaching job. One of the most satisfying subjects for me is teaching and talking to passionate teachers about it. This was one of those times when I had that chance. It was great fun.

Eventually the men came back to join us on the porch and David asked me for a Beat booklist. He assured me and Ernani that Ernani would like and do well in Law school. He and David had become friends. We had such fun together we skipped dinner and got tipsy on wine.

The conversation, the old and now new friends, the view of D.C. from the balcony--of the Potomac River and the sunset--made for a perfect night. I had had many nights like these with Margaret in Tulsa on her porches, back porch and front porch. It was wonderful to share these this one night with Ernani and to know that the next time we are in Tulsa, we will do it again with wonderful people.

There was only one person missing, our dear friend Jamie.  Margaret and I and Jamie spent those nights talking and sharing wine and food together. Jamie was back in Tulsa, but that night also in D.C. Margaret and I could not help talking about her and wishing she were here and though my brain is a bit fuzzy from the wine, I think we did call her. This is something Margaret and Jamie do in Tulsa when they are together on the porch and I am missing. They call me and we laugh a lot together like old times.

It was an evening of fun, but we had another day of fun ahead of us, so we left a bit tipsy and took the Metro without any problems back to our area of town. As we were going back (around 11 P.M.), the young were going out all dressed up in nightclub attire. We took a cab with a colorful Kenyan driver back to the hotel.

The next morning, we went back to the apartment via the Metro (filled with Race for the Cure racers). The plan was to go to the Eastern Market, have lunch, and go to the Phillips Collection.

The Eastern Market is one of my favorite places in D.C. It is filled with art, food, clothes, baked goods. We strolled around the art and jewelry stalls and then made our way inside through the groceries: fresh meats, cheeses, vegetables. As always it was packed with people. Lots of families buying for the week.

Outside we walked through the clothes booths. I found a mini-skirt made of saris. When I asked the man how much they cost, he asked me: “How much do you think?” I said, “Thirty bucks,” because I had been seeing them for that much in Eureka Springs, AR and Branson, MO. He laughed and said, “Lower.” I kept going down until I got to 10 dollars, and I got the skirt.

For lunch we went to Zorba’s in Dupont Circle. Zorba’s is a great little Greek restaurant. I changed into my skirt in the bathroom while I waited for my falafel wrap. Everyone enjoyed their meal and I got to remember the last time I was at Zorba’s in 2005 when Pauline and I found the place.

After lunch, we went to the Phillips Collection. I had also been there with Pauline in 2005 and I remembered that they had a large number of impressionist paintings in an old house that has an added on addition and a garden. We happened to choose a day that the museum also hosted a Jazz Festival. Jazz musicians played in a large room that also housed some Goya paintings. The music followed us up and down the stairs and through the rooms of the third floor.

The art museum has a small Rothko room and I like Rothko. Visiting that room was a pleasure, however, the most amazing exhibits were the self portrait of Cezanne, a few beautiful Van Gogh’s, Degas’s Ballerinas, work by John Klee, and the Renoir. Before I go on about the Renoir, let me tell you about another exhibit that was wonderful: Jacob Lawrence’s The Migration Series. Lawrence is a contemporary artist. They placed his work in a room with four walls and he had about 40 paintings per wall that depicted the African American experience in America from the moment they arrived on slave ships, through the civil war, through civil rights, right up to today. His work is amazing.  Check it out: http://www.phillipscollection.org/migration_series/index.cfm

I love his eye for color and his depiction of people and events. He has a fantastic style.

Now, the Renoir. They have Renoir’s The Luncheon of the Boating Party. http://www.phillipscollection.org/collection/boating/index.aspx

I have seen many reproductions of this painting and I have always liked it. It is one of Ernani’s favorites. We were excited to be seeing it in person, and after I saw it, I knew why John Berger is right about seeing a painting in person. It makes a difference. There is something lost in the reproduction of a piece.

When I saw the real painting of the boating party, it drew me in. I saw the women facing us looking at the man looking at the women across the table from her and not seeing that the guy standing above her is looking at her. The love triangle was obvious. In fact, no one is looking at the same person. This combined with the texture of the painting and the colors, made the picture alive.

Yes, alive. It was as if at any moment, I would hear the conversation—hear the women with the dog talking baby talk to him. Hear the laughter, the clinking of silver ware, dishes and cups. I would see movement—of the crowd, the eyes, the heads thrown back in glee. It was amazing. It was alive in a way the reproductions never are. The paint glowed and the colors were more vibrant. I was a part of this painting, not just watching it.

I understand why it is a coveted painting and very glad that I got to see it in such a small, intimate room filled with other people who were charmed by it as well. And I look at my reproduction of Irene and I think, I should see her in person someday. I love her. I love her red hair. I love her smile and her innocence about whatever it is the world has in store for her as a women. I love that my Mom looked at this reproduction I have of her and wished for a daughter that looked like her. I love the reproduction of her, so she must be amazing in real life as Renoir immortalized her in dried paint.

For a link to Irene: http://www.renoirgallery.com/gallery.asp?id=57

After our group had looked its fill, we parted ways. Ernani and I headed back to our hotel and Morgantown. Margaret and her parents headed to more museums and then back to Tulsa. But, soon very soon, we will see each other again. 

Friends and the Universe: Day one in D.C.

When I lived in Tulsa, I met some amazing women. One of them was Margaret. I had not seen her since I left, 5 years ago, but we do talk on the phone. She is one of my best friends and has supported me always. I knew mostly of her parents, having never spent a significant amount of time with them, but much time with Margaret. She and her parents travel together often and this year they decided to travel to Washington D.C. and Virginia. Luckily, we lived only four hours away from D.C. So, we decided to meet up with her and her parents while they were in D.C.

On a Friday in June, we drove to our hotel near the Pentagon. A quick call confirmed that Margaret and her parents were at the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum. I have been there a few times before. I was confident I would find her despite the crowds of people. In fact, when I think about this museum I immediately feel the largeness of the air space; it has high ceilings to display the large planes and satellites. I also feel the closeness of the floor space, where many people are pushing and walking, often with heads up as they go from exhibit to exhibit. Children on field trips, mothers with babies in strollers, people from all over the world. It is an exercise in trying not to get in someone else’s way and an impossible one to avoid. I also think of the air that blows through the museum as if the planes and rockets were flying through the air instead of just suspended above us. I envisioned this as we talked about meeting there.

Our hotel had a shuttle that would take us to the Metro station and back. Transportation is what a city is all about. After 5 years of living close enough to D.C. that it became a common vacation spot, I felt I knew the Metro and how it worked. So, taking the Metro from our area of town to downtown felt easy; it required no transfers. And, it was a treat because we crossed the Potomac. Moving from under the ground to above the ground in order to cross the river gave the trip a sense of realness. In fact anytime I have ridden the Metro and seen daylight, as we did on the Red Line when we took it from its end point in Fredricksburg to downtown, I realized I felt that I really was on a train moving through neighborhoods and past people’s workplaces. It is easy to forget I am on a train when I see only the dark walls of the tunnel and the interior of the car. Then, suddenly the car comes out onto the surface and light fills the car as it swishes by corporations, suburbs, and stations.

The shuttle too was an experience in Eastern American landscapes. We shared our ride in the van with a New Jersey family all dressed up in their finest, carrying flowers, on their way to see a son, grandson, nephew, husband graduate to lieutenant at the Army ceremony. We were near the Pentagon and our hotel had advertised itself as a place for families of the military to stay. This family was a colorful bunch. The women wore dressers, high healed shoes, and makeup. The men slacks and ties. The young were texting the rest of the family who had decided to drive their own cars since they were too many for the van. Some of the cousins were calling the other cousins in the cars following the van. New Jersey accents were flying fast at top speed. The men complained about the van being too hot and tried to get the driver to turn on the A.C. The grandma was rolling her eyes, fanning herself, and deferred to by everyone.

We made it to the station, boarded our train, and crossed the Potomac. Then, we proceeded on foot to the Smithsonian Museum. Every step got me closer to my friend. We only had two blocks to walk and being back in D.C. navigating the streets felt like being in a familiar place, not quite home.  The only odd thing we say was a squirrel lying flat and spread out at the base of the tree. Usually you see them jumping about and frantically chasing one another. Not this one. We wondered if he was close to death and joked he might be a politician lazing about, such bad jokes seem to escape everyone’s lips when in D.C.

When we entered the museum and felt that first rush of air that seems to emanate from deep within this museum, and passed through security, I looked for Margaret and her Dad. I missed seeing them though. Margaret had cut her hair short, and it looked great, but was not the cut in my vision of her, which was five years old. But, the hug was the same. It was wonderful seeing her. I had not realized a piece of me was sleeping until I met her again. Here was another part of who I was and where I had been. And I had only gotten through it with her help. That is what friends are and do. They are pieces of us, our past, that make us who we are even when those friends are not physically present. Friends help us when they are physically present with whatever we do while we are there with them and support us when we are gone. And all of what we do, who we see, what we say, who we love makes us who we are. To be reunited with Margaret meant to suddenly see myself completely again. I do not know if this was the same realization she had, but I did know she was glad to see me. I could see returned love.

Ernani was dying to see the House, so he went off to do that. Margaret’s Dad wanted to keep her Mom company. Her Mom was taking a break, sitting after so much walking. They had been in the area sightseeing for over a week and she had recently had some surgery on her hip.

Margaret and I took off to the space part of the museum. The best part of what we saw together was the pictures from the space probes, Voyager and Cassini to name a few, of the planets and sun in our solar system. Wonderful, visionary pictures. My love of space and geology combine with these pictures. We saw solar flares, the volcanoes of Venus, and the lava flows of Venus and Mercury. As gazed at the pictures, we were suspended above these planets who really were somewhere out above us, massive and large and hostile, while we were protected from them and space by chemistry, by layers of gases between us and the vacuum of space. It was a reminder again of who I was, one human in a vast city, country, continent, planet, universe.

But, that was not new to me. I had had those thoughts plenty of times in my life and not just when looking through my telescope at the moons of Jupiter but also when hiking or thinking about what to have for dinner.

What was new was Mars. These pictures were not from 30,000 plus above the surface. With these pictures, the camera’s eye, and so mine too, were on the ground. All I could say to Margaret about these was: “We are on the surface!” It was amazing. And original. It was a moment in history that I could see with my two eyes and it was in front of me. We all study Abe Lincoln and abstractedly see him win the war and lose his life, but none of us was there and no picture we see can make us truly be there or feel we were in the audience at Ford’s theatre or a General with Lincoln in a tent field. But, these could. I was on the ground looking at another planet and even though it was truly through the eyes of the robot, it was through eyes that felt like mine. They were not detached from their landscape. These eyes were slightly above ground level, as if I was looking slightly down from a sitting position, and they revealed a horizon that was not Earth’s horizon. They revealed red rocks and dust that were not of Earth’s Arizona desert or the Sahara meant to be Tattoine.

I could not stop looking, and yet I had to move on and see what else to see. And, what I saw next defied human eyes.

The planet Jupiter looks like an abstract painting and can easily be dismissed as such by the eyes and brain who know it’s a planet, but also see it as a large pretty ball. It is easy to know the truth. It is a planet. It is real, we know, but it does not look real. It looks like it comes from a human imagination.

As we go out from Jupiter and get more distant images from the planets out way way way past us, I think we get more distant from them. Mars is no longer distant, so we can assume, I think, in some future the others will get more real and immediate too. Unless of course human vision remains short and we see less money diverted to the realms of NASA, filled with scientists and dreamers both. Both can and should exist in the same place, but we often think of the two as separate and this could be a dangerous thought pattern that might lead to one versus the other and which one is best or worth our immediate time and energy. Thus, we invest in one and not the other and lose out on something important and/or profound about us and our worlds.

But, back to the topic at hand. Uranus looks alien. Pluto looks unreal. And we can just look with awe and forget them in a moment. Perhaps, too, this is because some of the images of the planets have been around for a long time and we have seen them before. These new images were sometimes a variation on what we had seen before, but there were surprises, like thermal pictures of Venus and being on the surface of Mars and seeing the robot leg and the Martian horizon. Then, there were the pictures of Saturn, which stopped me in my tracks just as those of Mars did, but for entirely different reasons.

Saturn and its rings. We all have seen them and know that they tilt, so we get the idea they are 3D, but again, like with Jupiter, they have the feel of a painting. That was the first familiar picture of Saturn at the museum. The next picture of Saturn’s rings destroyed that idea completely. This time the satellite took a picture of the rings edge on. So, as I looked at the picture,  Saturn’s rings were vertical and filled the frame as they ran top to bottom. It blew my mind. This was the most alien thing my eye had seen. Each ring had a thickness and my brain could not fully comprehend that what my eye saw existed in the real world. I had no reference except the line. It did look like lines; they were straight and long like a line, but they were also thick and metallic and more than a black line on a page or the edge of a record, a board, a desk, a car. They were alien. They had the definition no line had . No reproduction of real life, no painting, could look like this. Nothing on Earth could be used to help us understand these rings and rings itself seemed an inadequate word.  A pictorial tour of the universe awed us and took away all words except the mundane ones like awesome.

We left to meet up with Margaret’s parents, David and Katie, and try to explain a bit of what we saw. With her parents, we decided to see the 3D movie the museum was playing on the Hubble telescope. It began by moving us from Earth to the planets to the closet galaxies and the stars in them, to the Orion Nebula, and to the most distant stars from us that teach scientists about the creation of the universe.

In 3D stars flew past us and the experience made us all feel the distance and vastness of our universe immediately. All of the images Hubble has given us and they would not exist with the telescope. We got the history of the Hubble: how it was made, how it was repaired, how astronauts go up in space and repair it. It was a reality TV show in 3D, which revealed how nerdy and awesome astronauts really are. They wear sunglasses in space and spend hours hanging in space above Earth putting together the best telescope Earth has and not breaking it or dropping anything. Amazing.

The best part though was about the Orion Nebula and the star nursery there. We saw tons of small galaxies with suns and planets that looked like ours revolving around another large sun blowing enormous amounts of energy at them in the form of solar winds beyond any hurricane force wind we have on Earth. All potential life like us billions and billions of miles from us.

The farther back in time we went, we got closer to the truth of how we all got here, but we also got  further from it as well. It became darker and more mysterious and harder to see. They let us know that eventually we would reach a black hole, and that all we had really seen of the universe from the eye of Hubble was a tiny sliver of the rest of the sky, perhaps a fourth of the sky. How many more nurseries are out there? What will the 90% reveal if we get a chance to look deeply at it? I hope someday we know. 

Scouting Iowa

Sometimes travel requires a scouting trip. The first week of May marked the end of the semester and a change in my future. My students were aware of this change, so the last week of classes was good. They told me they would miss me, and that they had wanted to take more of my classes. As a teacher, this is the best compliment. So, even though the end is always chaotic, it was a good end.

What made the end of the semester more chaotic was also the fact that we had to go to Iowa City before the summer session began. Ernani was scheduled to teach that session. So, while the semester was ending, I was also packing and making arrangements to be away for a week. We were also setting up appointments to see apartments and houses in Iowa City. We left for the Farm May 7^th. It is an 11 hour drive and the next time we make it, we will have a Uhaul and our cat and our possessions. We could not help but be happy that we only had to drive that route one more time.

And, that Saturday we hung out at the Farm with Ernani’s family: his sister and her girls, his brother, his brother’s wife, and their girls. We had a wonderful time catching up, and they stayed the night, so we got also hang out with them a bit on Sunday, Mother’s Day. Rebecca, my mother in law, was going with us on Sunday to Iowa City. We left in the afternoon, checked in with Shaner and Barb, Ernani’s other brother and sister in law, and their kids Andre and Helena, who kindly let us crash at their place. The hunt for an apartment started the minute we got there. We drove around and took down a ton of numbers. Ernani found a paper and we got more numbers. We also dropped by for a quick, unannounced visit on Ernani’s old roommate Ben and his fiancé Katie. They were getting married in a week. He gave us a good idea about what the average rent should be on a 2 bedroom.

It was through the paper that we found the final place, the place we chose to rent and which we will move to soon. But, it was some time before we saw it and chose it. Monday began our appointments and our first lesson: a condo is really just an apartment. The first place we saw, a condo, was really a disaster. Some young kid lived there who never cleaned and decorated with his Rasta pictures. How many Bob Marley pictures does one room support? At least two, according to this young designer.  And, the place had a deck, but it was shared with the neighbor next door. How appealing. It was an easy no. The guy who showed it kept apologizing about the tenant and the condition of the place. We left as soon as we could.

We drove to the next place, the exact opposite of the one before. There was only one similarity between this next place and the previous place, the guy we met to show us the apartment was the same guy we had previously met at the Rasta apartment. We chuckled over this and then toured the garage and apartment. Immediately, I could envision living here. The tenant was also completely opposite from the last tenant. She left a note about utilities and costs. She also said she had loved living there. She was neat, organized, and decorated tastefully. She had a cat, somewhere. She was gold. If all the other places were dumps, I knew at least I could live here. It was far from Ernani’s Law School though.

And after having lived in Oklahoma, I was a bit scared of the open spaces without trees where this large complex of townhouses was built. I could imagine the tornado and the complete exposure scared me. I liked the hills. They protected me from tornados. The minute we pulled off the interstate, my first reaction to Iowa was I feel more exposed. It is great to see the sun and the horizon, but I have not seen that in about 5 years, so will be an adjustment. I am assuming it will pass quickly and when I need my hill fix, Arkansas is only 10 hours away. Take me home.

We ended a long day of looking having dinner with Shaner and Andre and then watching Transformers. Barb and Helena were busy all week. Helena dances and there was a big recital on Sunday that she was preparing for all week. The whole family wanted to hear about our day, so we would tell Shaner and Andre about it in the afternoon and Barb and Helena about it in the morning at breakfast.

After day one, I had seen 3 places I could live, a Sonic, and found one good Mexican restaurant. My list of must-haves was being met.

Tuesday was more of the same, except that I found a place I really like. I went to the rest of the viewing comparing the places to it. It had some issues, like no garage and a tiny, tiny kitchen, but I loved the wood floors, the light, and the sealed basement. I was sure we would not find one better. It was also close to campus. I kept calling it the place I love. I was a bit smitten. But, something better was just around the corner.

Rebecca came with us to the morning appointments on Tuesday, but left that afternoon to go back to the farm for her Wednesday yoga. We looked at places, joined the amazing co-op, and made plans to meet up with my friend Carol at The Red Avocado for dinner at the end of our day. It was a great restaurant, all vegan. I have not been able to order everything off of a menu in over ten years. And Ernani liked Carol, so all was perfect. We told her about a dump we saw just before our dinner that ended our day of searching. The landlord sold his driveway to football fans and the tenants got nothing of those proceeds. In fact, he allowed the football fans to use the bathrooms in the basement and the tenants paid for the water they used. I had never heard of such a ludicrous arrangement.

Wednesday we were on our own. It was also our 3 year anniversary. This was the day we found the place. We saw it that afternoon. The tenants showed us the place. It was a duplex with three stories: a basement with the laundry facilities we alone use, a first floor with the kitchen and dining and living rooms, and a third floor with 2 bedrooms and a bathroom. It also has a garage and is in a quiet neighborhood near the bus stop. One of the tenants said what we were thinking: it has everything you look for in a place. We discussed it that night at dinner and found out from talking to Barb that she knew the landlord, who owns a great, local coffee house chain in Iowa City and whose daughter dances with Helena.

The next day, we saw one other place and then as we were sitting in the car in a driveway to another place in a downpour, I turned to Ernani and said: Let’s get the place we saw yesterday. He was happy. I was happy. Our cat in WV had no idea the plans we were making for her future. We immediately called the coffee landlord and made arrangements. The rest of the day, we spent at the Corraville public library, which is beautiful and where I plan to spend a lot of time in Iowa City.

The next day, we signed the lease. We had a successful scouting trip. Everything was moving in the direction of Iowa City and it felt good. The hard part has been waiting for the end of July. 

A Reflection on Travel

Yes, this is a travel blog, but I am a metaphor person too. Travel in its most dramatic form is physical. I buy that expensive plane ticket, get on that plane, my body moves through the sky, and I arrive at an exotic, new-to-me destination. We recognized that form of travel without question, but we can also never physically leave a place and travel too.  For example, when I read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, my imagination plays the scenes of the novel in my head. Time passes fast with a good book. I have never left the couch, expect maybe to get some food or tell the cat no, but I have been traveling in my head. We also understand this concept of non-physical travel. We even understand how life itself is travel as a journey. That cliché comes up in many an old 80’s Rush song.

I have blogged about a physical and exotic travel I took in January to Brasil. This was also a life travel as well since I was meeting a whole set of in-laws I had never meet before. My concept of family doubled when I met and married my husband and then again after we were married and I met the Brazilian side of his family. I even meet some of my mother-in-laws friends, her extended family, and they joined our life as well. That is clear from the previous posts. I would also call these elements of travel blessings.

But, our life was about to take on another dimension of travel when we arrived back from Brasil. Ernani had rocked the LSAT and we were waiting to hear which schools he got accepted into and which were to offer us money. We had a big decision to make that would result in us moving, or traveling, to a new city and it could have been Austin, D.C., Chicago etc. They were all over and all interested in him. This physical travel was again coupled with a mental change. He would go to law school and I would pursue work. That work suddenly became open to any possible kind of work, not just teaching.

We have of course made our decision by now. We will be moving to Iowa City, Iowa. This is a place that is close to my husband’s heart. He went to school there for his philosophy degrees and his brother and sister-in-law and their family live there. In many ways, he is going home. I, on the other hand, am moving to a new place. It is another exotic destination and one that presents many options and life travel paths for me. Ernani of course has his new path: law school. What will mine be?

Right now, all I can say is we will see. But, this morning as I was catching up on Gretchen’s blog (http://www.happiness-project.com/), I read an interview she posted with Richard Florida who was talking about the importance of where you live. It does of course matter in terms of happiness. We are happy where we are accepted and where we can pursue what we enjoy. It also matters in terms of what travels we take. Our place does affect us and the places we go do as well. Being close to family matters to both Ernani and I. Being in a job that allows me to teach and be creative matters to me.

We visited Iowa City a few weeks ago. It was a very good trip. We were productive, we found a bank and a place to live. Ernani took a tour of the law school. We found a great coffee shop. The public libraries are amazing and wonderful. There is park every 10 feet. The food in the grocery stores is reasonably priced and there are 4 days of farmer markets in the area. My friend Carol is 20 minutes away. My parents are only a day away. My brothers about 5 hours away. The farm is 2 hours away. It seems a wonderful place to live and raise kids and be a writer. When I told the landlord I was going to pursue writing as work, she did not dismiss the idea or respond negatively. She was sincerely enthusiastic about it as a workable idea. I took this as a good sign of community and acceptance.

If community acceptance is key to happiness as Richard Florida asserts, I pray that Iowa City accepts me as I think it might. This is my wish. This is my new travel destination. 

Friday, January 8th, 2010: Goodbyes

We spent the previous night packing, so we awoke and were ready physically to go to the airport. Mentally, it was harder to leave. It had been a wonderful vacation and though I was looking forward to going home, seeing the cat, and teaching again, I did regret leaving the beach, people and food that I had come to love.

Before Eduardo came to pick us up, Ernani and I headed to the beach across the street to say goodbye to the ocean. We walked the beach and wondered when we would put our feet back in the ocean again. 

 It was noted that I was quiet as we drove to the airport. I was taking as much in as I could. I did not want to forget this trip and I wanted to come back as soon as we could. We joke about going back for the World Cup in 4 years or to visit Mariano who got a Fullbright to teach in Brasilia next year. He is bringing his whole family and it would be neat to visit the interior. But, Maceio was where I really wanted to spend most of my time. We had met the best people here.

When we got the airport, we stood in a check-out line a while. The man who checked us in was named Magalhaes and Eduardo said he probably was related somewhere in the family line when we joked about how we must be related. It reminded me of our toast the night before at the restaurant. We toasted to the Magalhaes family and Paulo who might join it someday. I did not take my husband’s name, but I still see myself as Magalhaes too. It is nice to feel a part of a large and happy family. I felt lucky to have two such wonderful names and families.

After we were checked in we made our way up to the second floor and said our goodbyes to Flavio and Eduardo. The flight from Maceio to Rio stopped in Salvador. We had great seats and watched the coastline all the way to Salvador. There was never a break in it and it looked pristine. We could tell that roads did not go to a majority of the coastline and fantasized about trying to get to some of those beaches. They must be lovely.

We lost those good seats from Salvador to Rio and did not see the great statue, the Cristo, but Rio itself is beautiful. The mountains were calling to me. They are jagged and unreal. When we got off the plane to face our 7 hour layover, I made sure we walked outside. I wanted to breathe this Rio air and promise it I would return to explore those hills.

                                                                                                                        

While in line to check in, we meet a family sending their daughter to L.A. to see if she would like to study for a year there. She was on the same flight as us and even sat in the row ahead of us. She had not flown to the States before. Her parents were friendly and her Aunt pretended to be impressed with the little Portuguese I knew. We enjoyed talking to them.

Security was normal after we checked in but they had additional security on the ramp before we entered the airplane. They searched our carry-on again and waved a wand around us. Then, they let us go into the plane. The plane ride was long again. Upon landing in D.C. at dawn their time, I saw white on the ground and for a moment I thought it was sand and wondered what it was doing in D.C. I quickly realized it was snow.

The flight to Chicago was difficult. We were so close to WV when we were in D.C., but we had to pick up our car in Chicago, so we had to fly there. Getting off the plane and being greeted by Sonia and her girls and Harry was perfect. It was great to see them and it felt like we were truly home. We parted though as they were there to pick up Rebecca and we were headed back to Sally’s house to get our car and drive to W.V.  The drive was terrible, but we made it. Our cat, Cleopatra, greeted us when we  came home. We covered our tans and went back to life, marked by Brasil.

Thursday, January 7, 2010: Part 2: The Beach

Andrea drove Eduardo’s truck and Rebecca rode inside the cab with her. Flavio, Thais, Julia, Ernani and I rode in the bed of the truck. This is not legal of course. And I was a little nervous when they kept talking about avoiding the police, but it was great fun. I also felt a little odd when we were driving through the village. It was the first time I felt as though I was being stared at by the local people. When we got out onto the main highway, I just enjoyed the wind. It felt like a long ride. Andrea was looking for a specific beach and had to turn around once when she went too far past it. But, soon we left the highway and the road became sand. We were close.

We jumped out of the car and found a pristine beach. We were way North of Maceio, but could see the point far off to the south and the high rise apartments on the North side of town. The ocean was perfect. Calm but alive. The sand was warm and soft. The few private houses that lined this beach were big mansions. We dreamed about owning one.

We ran out to meet the waves and as we moved out into the ocean, I noticed I was stepping on something that was moving back and forth as the waves came in and out. Flavio went under and pulled up living sand dollars. There were tons of them. I have never swam with them before.

We played in the waves and helped Julia face them since she was shorter and smaller than us. On one occasion a large and powerful wave came in and we watched Ernani tumble to the shore. It pushed us all back to shore. He was fine, but we had fun describing what he looked like. It had caught him unaware.

We swam a long time in the ocean. The beach was pretty much ours and the waves were wonderful. The water was the perfect temperature and it was such an alive feeling. To swim in something as alive as us was refreshing. I know we are part ocean.

Eventually, we had to leave. We piled back into the truck and drove back. Soon after, we returned to Maceio, refreshed and happy.

That night we had our last dinner with Eduardo, Thais, Paulo, and Flavio at an Italian restaurant. It was delicious. We also gave Eduardo his boat present and they gave us beautiful havaianas. Mine are green with a river otter on them and Ernani’s are blue with a monkey on them. They are endangered species.

We went home and to sleep. Tomorrow we were to fly out and start our journey back to the wintery States. There wasn’t much to say. 

Thursday, January 7, 2010: Part 1: The Ranch: A Farm is Always A Home

When I lived in Tulsa, I meet the fabulous Jamie and her family. Jamie and her two sisters are artistic, smart and generous. Their Mother lives on the Ranch, acres of beautiful land outside of Sapulpa, Oklahoma. It is only about 30 minutes away and in the heart of beautiful country nothing like the city. Grass, trees and trains and violin music all embody the Ranch. Jamie and her family took me in and became my Tulsa family.

The Ranch holds a special place in their hearts, so it was always a special place for all their friends and adopted family. Mama Jo teaches violin and has a heart of gold. I cannot count how many times I ate and laughed and laughed around her wood table. Nor how many times I heard stories about their father who had passed away and was sorely missed. I wished countless times that I had met him in person.

When I meet Ernani, he told me about the Farm in Illinois. His Grandmother lived there and it was one of the only places he ever felt truly safe. It held a special place in his heart because his Grandma was there. She was a one of kind women, also generous. I knew exactly what he meant. I thought of the Ranch and my parent’s home where I felt the same things. 

Just before our last day in Brazil, Ernani said he wanted to go to the Sitio, a ranch outside of Maceio that his Dad owns and that he remembered liking the last time he visited Brazil. He remembered the birds and wanted to see them again. We also knew we wanted to go to the beach again before we left.

Thursday, a friend of the Magalhaes family, Andrea, came by to visit us. As she was visiting, Eduardo called about going to Sitio. We invited Andrea to go with us and she said she could drive. The plan was to stop by her apartment and pick up her niece Julia.

We got ready and piled into her car. It was a warm day, so driving with the windows down and knowing were headed to a place with a pool and near the beach was pleasant. Her little red car was a stick and she maneuvered the streets like an expert. We went around big trucks that were stopped  in the middle of the roadway and slid perfectly into the tiny parking spot on the bottom level of her gated apartment.

We took the tiny elevator up to her apartment, white and sunny and open to the air. Her daughter and niece were there and a little dog of theirs. They had a balcony on the North side of the house that gave a view of the ocean. They were moving soon to a different apartment. I could not help but imagine what it would be like to live in an apartment with a view of the ocean. Heavenly I think.

We piled back into the car. Julia had spent the first few years of her 10 year old life in the U.S. and even went to grade school a couple of years there. She could speak English, but wouldn’t. She could understand us, so we could talk to her. She taught me some words, like excuse me. She was beautiful and fun. She and I and Ernani sat in the back seat and talked and laughed as Andrea drove us to Sitio.

Andrea had a pretty good idea how to get to the ranch from the little village it was alongside. As she drove the main road that lead North out of town, I recognized the turn off to Pajucara’s house that we passed. It was new territory after that turn.

She drove to the little town and through it. The pavement ended when she pulled off the main road and this village was authentic Brazil for me. The houses were side by side and some were markets and delis. People sat outside in the shade of the awnings on tile sidewalks that ran up the sides of the houses and walls. It was dusty and beautiful. The houses were all colors: light yellow, green, blue. Not a tourist was present, except us. And, I was obviously a tourist. Not many redheads in Brazil. Not many people who burn in the sun unless that is desert sun and then they only lightly tan. Oh how I miss that tan and how I hated to cover it back up with winter clothes when we got back to the States.

We got lost in the little village with only 3 roads, but Andrea eventually found the right lane road to Sitio. The lane road was covered in shade. Trees overhung the road and chickens walked across it. We pulled up to the house, which was covered in orchids and birds. Cages and flowers hung from every eve.

It was a ranch house: wood and plants. Eduardo was in the kitchen cooking lunch for us. He made me a vegi salad: red peppers, beats, tomatoes. He also made me fresh shrimp and rice. Everyone else had steak. As he cooked, Julia and I ate buttered bread and talked a bit with him when we were not exploring the place. We saw beautiful orchids and Andrea eventually bought two of them. We swam in the pool and ate. We laughed and talked and enjoyed the afternoon.

Us kids, Thais, Ernani, Falvio, Julia and I, also went up the hill to see the ocean and Thais’ horse. The coconut trees lined the hilly hillsides and the ocean seemed to meet the trees from our angle. It was worth the climb. We went back and took a dip in the pool that had a fountain on one end. When you stood under it, the water massaged your head and back. It was cool and refreshing.

After a quick swim, we decided to head to the beach. It was our last day in Brazil and we were longing to go to the beach. We were to have one of the best beach experiences of life.