The Rainy Season

Recently, the rainy season hasn't lived up to its name. I miss the rain. I think I am the only one in Brazil who does. The days have been long and hot, then I remember it is summer.

Last weekend, following a weekend of exploration that took us to the market in Guara on Saturday and the Parque da Cidade on Sunday, we mostly stayed in. But we can only stay in so long before Elise and I (and probably Pete and Sam, too) feel the urge to do something bem brasileiro.

Saturday we drove up the Botanical Garden, a jungle and less a garden, that Elise had been to a few times with her new running partners. We took advantage of our recently arrived air baggage (it finally arrived after ten weeks when it was only supposed to take three to four weeks to arrive. This wouldn't have been that big of a deal except I put Elise's Christmas present in it, foolishly thinking it would arrive in time for Christmas, and the carefully crafted diaper plan Elise and I had constructed relied on its timely arrival. We had shipped ahead enough diapers to get us through the shipment when reinforcements were to arrive. They never came and our diaper plan unravelled and we were forced to binge on a $53 pack of diapers that sent me sniffing the crotches before putting the boys in the bath to see if I could--in good conscience--reuse the diaper. Usually, I couldn't.). I unfolded the jogging stroller, having pumped air in the tires of all the strollers and trikes (and even the car...phew!), and plopped both boys in for a jog through the jungle with Elise in the lead. Jog through the jungle is no exaggeration, we saw two toucans fly over on our run, then perch in the tree above, their long, hooked noses perfectly silhoutted in the morning light, the sun showing orange through one of the hollow beaks.

We were in a festive mood, so we invited friends for a pool and taco party. They have 5 kids, so it is kind of like asking Katrina over for dinner, but it is always fun, though hard work it is welcome work and dishes always go faster with a bottle of Bohemia close by. Kurt, the patriarch, interviewed for this job the same day I did back in November a year ago, though on the other side of DC. We sat a few chairs from each other in orientation. We roomed together during the team-building retreat in West Virginia and sat next to each other during the Flag Day ceremony when we received our assignments and...yes, we were both posted to Brasilia! Now we share an office. It will start to get creepy if we are posted to the same place for our second assignments.

Earlier in the day, Sam and I built Elise the Seattle Space Needle out of Lego Architecture. Sam did 90% of the work and showed the precision and patience of a boy twice his age (that would make that boy only 6, so maybe it was the precision and patience of a boy three or four times his age). We are ready for more: the Guggenheim, Fallingwater, Imperial Star Destroyer and locomotives. As I am writing this, Sam and Elise are supposed to be picking out our next project on ToysRUs.com (courtesy of 'Ma and Granddad).

Sunday, we returned to the TV Tower to indulge our native fix. We beat the lunch crowd and packed styrofoam self-serve bowls with rice, feijoada, grilled chicken and sausage. All that was missing was a painfully-cold can of Antartica. We piqueniqued downwind of the giant fountain in front of the TV Tower, cooled by the mist blown off it. Pete walked around, letting me feed him yellow rice and watermelon. Then, we wound through the tightly-packed kiosks in search of souvenirs for family and items for the home. Elise bought four tiny ceramic pots for the kitchen to hold flowers or something similar as part of a dinner place setting...of course, I can't give away all her secrets.

Sam starts pre-school on Tuesday.

Changes are happening. During our daily routine, nothing feels distant or remote. Then, I look at a map and see that we are in the middle of a massive country. No matter where I stand in this city, the sky is enormous and it feels like I am looking down on the city and the hills and the sky and hills would go on forever if scope of my vision let it. And then, too, I feel small and far away, gazing out at so many clouds and so much sky and land. I have to work tonight until midnight. I am writing this from the fifth floor of one of the nicest hotels I have ever stepped foot in and I have stepped foot in a Ritz-Carlton so that is saying a lot. The large bay window opens up on four aquamarine swimming pools below and never-ending hills of jungle and in one part of the sky clear, eastern-facing dusk, the part of the sky that goes to sleep first, turning shades of violet and indigo and often goes unnoticed while everyone else looks at the sunset on the completely opposite side of the sky and in the other part of the sky is a thunderstorm falling on the hills, lightning shooting and tickling the forest.

I am only twenty minutes from the house, but it feels too far away and I miss Elise and Sam and Pete, in addition to the rainy season. I hope they pick out some good Legos.