On Becoming Real

Tomorrow this little guy in the photograph and I are turning 65. I've decided to begin this post with a quote from "The Velveteen Rabbit," which I confess I've never read (the book). Even if my bunny is made of terrycloth and reminds me of an old bathrobe. It's the answer to the rabbit's question "When do you become REAL?" and I think it applies to people too.

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

As you can imagine, we've been through a lot the two of us, but, miraculously, we've both managed to keep our eyes. Through severe myopia and strabismus and early-onset cataracts surgery (me) and ten years spent hidden away inside an old armchair in my parents' home (him). Yes, I lost my rabbit when I was about five and found it again at fifteen. Have been carrying him around with me ever since. At this point, we go together like "The Blue Danube" and that PanAm flight to the space station in "2001." Perfectly suited for each other. His cotton loops and my head covering are still hanging in there, thank goodness. At this point in life, thinning hair scares me more than death. And I take care that we don't get shabby either, except where it can't be helped (I'm afraid we've become a tad deaf, somewhat faded, and so on). We strive for stylish still, as best as we can. So, when will WE become REAL?

The miniature Ritz Carlton beach chair I expropriated from my friend's desk at The Wolfsonian museum in South Beach years ago. The white beach bag came from a lingerie boutique at the Shopping Leblon in Rio de Janeiro. They tied that with a ribbon onto a little shopping bag. Brazilians are simply fantastic with attractive packaging...The picture was taken on a table at the back of my building when I moved in and we had perfect blue skies.

Jetsam and Flotsam

This little post is subtitled "Where Do All the Plastic Caps Come From?" There, I've asked the question. If you know the answer, at least regarding Miami-Dade County, please leave a comment!

In all the years I spent in Brazil I almost never went to the beach. The one exception was Fernando de Noronha. The reason being that I got completely spoiled by numerous diving and beach-bumming vacations on the British Virgin Islands. I hated the beaches in Rio; way too crowded and littered for my taste and, lately, much too chaotic and noisy. Thanks to the utter lack of city management over the past several years, a number of industrious and enterprising cariocas were able to helter-skelter take over the sands. They rent beach chairs and umbrellas and let you run a tab for cold beer, coconut water, and even food, if I remember right (you just wave your hand and they'll bring it to you). That wouldn't be so bad if they hadn't started offering free (and very refreshing, I grant you) showers, illegally pumping water from artesian wells, using deafening and polluting gasoline motors! I'll let you imagine what happens to the groundwater below.

Anyway, I'm pretty pleased with the quiet and quite deserted beach here, with the exception of the ubiquitous trash. You can't get away from this sad evidence of what humankind has been doing to the planet. I try to pick up what I can every day in the small stretch of beach I call my own. So far, I've found a disposable diaper, a long piece of fabric with large staples still attached to it (I assume it was once a boat curtain?), dangerous pieces of glass, an assortment of plastic bottles, and a ton of plastic bottle caps. Usually, feeling virtuous (yeah, yeah, I'm taking liberties with Ovid here!) is its own reward, but today I actually got paid one dollar for my efforts. I even took a picture of my bounty!

The title was inspired by something I read in "The Riddle of the Sands." One of the main characters was very fond of throwing overboard everything he didn't want or need. I know the book was written in 1903, but I still can't forgive him!

Singing the Praises of a Singer

I don't think I can even make my way through the first two verses of "Happy Birthday to You" without going out of tune. And I can't remember anything more excruciatingly painful (besides the visits to our dentist) than my piano lessons as a little girl. But, that never kept me from developing a deep love and appreciation of music, especially Brazilian sounds. And I have a dear friend in Rio who, pardonnez-moi le cliché, sings like a bird. I've heard that birds actually don't "sing," but be that as it may, Marcos is a beautiful, privileged, sensitive, funny, enchanting, (I'm running on with my adjectives here, but you get the picture) interpreter. He also has a knack for repertoire like no other singer of his generation. I've sung his praises many times before, but now that he has a new CD fresh off the presses, I thought it might be a good opportunity for another show of my undying love and support.


Meanwhile, I've been walking around my new town of Surfside, trying to look conspicuously like a recently-arrived foreigner. For that, besides appearing (genuinely) lost most of the time and enquiring of passing strangers the location of the Post Office and the closest café (mercifully, there's a French one, no less!), I've enlisted my small collection of Brazilian souvenirs, like these marvelous capim dourado bracelets. They're incredible conversation pieces, as you can imagine, and I hope they'll help me make some new friends! If you've watched an American reality show featuring the Brazilian state of Tocantins, take it from me: it's all b.....Been there, done that, camping by a splendid, pristine river, climbing up mesas to take in breathtaking views, etc. All that, at 61 years old! Anyway, that's where all these gorgeous pieces of costume jewelry come from.

Marcos' new CD, "Na Cabeça", is available through Biscoito Fino in Rio. He's currently on a European tour. Check his website for cities and dates.

Marcos Sacramento Photo Credit: Edu Monteiro

Miami Beach Bum Says "Bom Dia!"

After going AWOL for several weeks, the prima donna in the post below has been spotted atop a coconut palm on a beach a few miles north of Miami. And no, there are no immediate plans to return to the forested hills of Rio. Que pena!

Well, there are good things and bad things about being transplanted to the U.S. One upsetting detail: no one looks you in the eye and smiles (or very few people do). One very positive aspect: things still seem to work with a certain degree of efficiency here. I could even be daring and affirm that, in certain ways, they have improved considerably in four years. Take my broadband provider, for instance. If you remember a post called "Killing Me Softly" from two years ago, you'll recall that my Brazilian ISP/cable company, NET, almost had me sitting on the floor crying like a helpless child...I'm pleased to note that it took one phone call on Wednesday for two very capable technicians to show up here on Thursday and have me up and running at hyperspeed in no time at all! Not being accustomed to such rapidity and competency, I confess that I was floored and could have kissed the two of them! But they were in and out in minutes...to their next appointment.

This photograph was taken out of my window. I'm lucky with views! And I have had help moving and settling in. A young man from Ohio with the most beautiful (hazel? My fault, I haven't had leisure to stare at his face...) eyes and three other dear friends have pitched in.

I do miss everyone in Brazil terribly. And the markets. The produce section of my supermarket is minimal. The remainder of the fabulously-stocked store is taken over by bagged, canned, boxed, or otherwise packaged foods with a long list of unedible ingredients. Yikes! But I've decided to take advantage of the spectacular beach for a few months, at least. Yesterday, there were tarpon feeding at some schools of fish that were swimming all around me. Looking straight ahead, somewhere beyond the horizon, it's the islands of the Bahamas. I sat on the beach mesmerized for about an hour envying the fish their freedom and watery world, wishing that it would be possible for me to just start swimming and go see what I'd find out there...

MIA...Our Correspondent in Brazil

Our Brazilian correspondent went missing, after pecking at her laptop keyboard for a couple of years from the general vicinity of Corcovado Mountain in Rio. Last seen flying in a general northwesterly direction.

We'll keep you posted if the bird ever turns up again!