The first time, Sam, Pete and I went to Itiquira Falls with Uncle Carlton and Jennifer when they came to visit last week. We had recently brought Clementine to Itiquira when Elise's parents were in town, and it ended up being a long day for her. Accordingly to Elise, she cried all the way home from the falls. This was no small feat as it was an almost two hour drive. So when we decided to take Carlton and Jennifer there, Elise opted to stay home with Clementine instead of subjecting her to another incredibly long day in the car.
Solo outings allow me to perfect my parenting planning. I am usually left to my own devices, though I suspect Elise is looking over my shoulder as I pack snacks and supplies. She made sure I had suntan lotion when we went to Itiquira. And I have yet to forget anything too crucial. (I remember well the afternoon Elise, Sam and I took a few month-old Peter to the Mall in DC on the orange line. After watching the kites circle the sky around the Washington Monument and slurping on red, white and blue star popsicles, Pete started to get hungry so I went to make him a bottle from the supplies I had stashed in the bottom of the stroller only to discover that I forgotten the disc that goes in the top of the baby bottle and all the water had leaked out, leaving us nothing to make a bottle with. After fruitlessly searching the Mall for a water vendor and finding all the kiosks closed for the Memorial Day holiday, we found ourselves with no other choice but to squeeze ourselves back onto the over-crowded orange line and suffer through Pete's screams all the way back to Arlington. It was a day that seared itself indelibly onto my brain, and every day since then I have checked and double-checked all my baby accouterments to make sure I am not forgetting some crucial and necessary piece of baby gear...like food or water. As thorough as I like to believe I am, however, I inevitably forget something. When we went to Itiquira I forgot a set of dry clothes. So, the boys went swimming in the clothes they had on and wore their bathing suits home. Yesterday, I forgot baby wipes. I had brought chocolate chip chewy granola bars and when the chocolate chips melted all over their fingers I had to tell them to wipe their hands on their shirts...or the grass.)
After making sure I had an ample supply of snacks, water and suntan lotion we headed out. I think part of the reason Elise decided to stay home this year was because it was incredibly hot and dry last year. Brazilian Independence Day falls at the end of the dry season. On the Esplanade, Brasilia's equivalent of the Washington Mall, all the grass is scorched and yellow like hay. It hasn't rained since June, and there isn't a cloud in the sky. Obeying Oscar Meimeyer's original vision of the city, trees are scare to nonexistent; he didn't want trees blocking his architectural genius. I have also heard it said he wanted all denizens of Brasilia to be able to see the horizon at all times; trees would prevent one from being able to do this. Nevermind that trees are essential to a proper ecosystem or that it is nearly impossible to stand through a military parade in 90 degree weather under the scorching sun without a breath of shade.
When we arrived on the Esplanade, we miraculously found an unclaimed parcel of shade. We laid claim immediately. Our parcel was actually located behind a barrier separating the parade route from the Esplanade proper. One of the highlights of Brazilian Independence Day is a military parade that passes in front of President Dilma Rousseff on the steps of Planalto, the Brazilian White House, and proceeds past risers filled with cheering Brazilians, down the Esplanade to the TV Tower. Our spot placed us right in front of one of the closed-circuit TVs so we could see what was coming down the parade route before it actually passed. When we saw the tanks on TV we listened for their rumble as they went by on the other side of the dividing wall. Fortunately, we found a crack in the wall, and Sam peeked through and could see the parade while I lifted Pete onto my shoulders where he could look over the top of the wall, both of them like boys sneaking a peak through a baseball game through a knot in the wooden outfield fence.
Tanks rumbled by. Strange-looking men in gas masks. Bomb-sniffing dogs, fire trucks, marching bands, trucks pulling jet skis (?), and presidential guard in tall plumaged hats trotting by on horseback. When the Air Force marched by, a fighter jet screamed through air, startling Pete. The jet was followed by a refueling plane and four more jets, flying in formation, chasing it like puppies trying to suckle from their mother. Then helicopters.
As the parade ended, the main attraction began:
The air show!
The planes zoomed over the Esplanade, climbing climbing climbing, then seemingly turning off their engines and free-falling back to earth. The crowd gasped in appreciation, then at the last possible second, the engine fired up and the plane pulled out of its death-defying dive.
In another maneuver, they flew at each other from opposites ends of the sky, nearly missing. Sam and Pete squealed in delight.
And finally when it was time to say "Tchau!" they flew one by one past, dipping their wings from side to side. The crowd waved and cheered, and Pete and Sam jumped up and down.
Honestly, though, I don't know who was more excited them...or me.
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