I have decided that this particular blog should be standalone. You'll see why.
Topic: Brazilians taking the piss when it comes to renting out apartments because you're a gringo.
This is a message for every Brazilian out there who has a really shitty piece of property and thinks "hey, I won't refurbish it, I'll just rent it out in the state it's in - cockroaches and all - to a gringo who will pay twice the price for it". REALITY CHECK: WE WON'T. Why do Brazilians think that tiny/old substandard apartments that haven't been cleaned, painted, properly furnished or kitted out with half-decent kitchen equipment are ok to let out on a short-term furnished basis to gringos? I mean, they wouldn't accept that level of crapness for themselves, why do they think that we would?
I come from the 1st world, ok? Yeah, I'm willing to spend a bit of money but I also want some "vale a pena" (value for money) and there is such a place called THE INTERNET where I can check what the normal market rate is in the area, dipshit. I might not be fluent in Portuguese but I can bloody well navigate myself around zap.com.br. I can even factor in the condo fee, roughly how much the bills are costing you, and add a bit more for the fact the place is furnished and work out a fair price - with a profit margin and everything!
We went to see a couple of apartments before New Year's. One of them was old, seriously dirty, the little furniture it did have was really old and in bad condition, it was missing a bed (supposed to be a 2-bed flat), didn't have a washing machine or a decent table to eat on (Brazilians always have a decent table to eat on in their homes: we know), and one of the bedrooms didn't have a door on it. No, scratch that, it was missing a wall. We turned that one down.
The other one was in a cheap part of a decent area, building was nice, but the place was fucking tiny. They had clearly taken an ok-ish-sized one bedroom flat and put in an extra wall to make two bedrooms. Again, the flat wasn't particularly clean, furniture was cheap and tatty, there was barely enough room to swing a cat around in the living room, the fridge freezer was about 20 years old and probably hadn't been defrosted in that long either. Plus, they wanted about R$2700 for it all in, which was just a joke.
A Canadian guy in our Portuguese class had booked to go to Rio for NYE but cancelled at the last minute because the idiots that he had reserved (not paid, clever boy) an apartment with decided at the last minute to double the price for the weekend, so he just didn't go. They could have made some money over the period, but because they got greedy (very common here) they lost a paying customer 2 days before NYE. Dumbasses.
Moral of the story: if you have some money, you want to invest in property, are willing to provide a decent level of furnished & all-inclusive accommodation and you're not a greedy motherfucker, you would make an absolute killing over here.
Saturday 31 December 2011
Thursday 29 December 2011
Chanukah in Sao Paulo
I actually started writing this during Chanukah, but shit happened - as it tends to do - so this post was somewhat delayed. Still worth posting though:
You may/may not know this, but Brazil has the second largest population of Jews in South America. Argentina has the most, with the vast majority of them living in Buenos Aires. Brazil's Jewish population is roughly 100,000 and the city with the largest Jewish community is Sao Paulo, with a population of 45,000. There is a shitload of intermarriage and assimilation so it's really very hard to tell exactly what the population figures are (i.e. there could be a lot more), but I found a page somewhere on t'internet where they were quoting stuff all over the place so I lifted the info off of it.
I can attest to the fact that there are a lot of Jews in Sao Paulo. First of all, I'm one of them (ha), and secondly I've met quite a few without actually looking for them. Those I have met are not religious, much like myself. Sao Paulo's biggest congregation - 'Congregação Israelita Paulista' (something like a Reform synagogue) - has a membership of 2,000 families (that's a lot) and is the largest single congregation in Latin America.
So with all these Jews around, we've been looking for the usual signs of Chanukah. The first one we saw was actually in our nearest large supermarket, Carrefour. This one was up before Chanukah started (Tuesday night, FYI):
Sweet, innit?
Then our host Fernando told us they usually put up a large menorah at the end of Avenida Paulista near Consolacão, so we braved the Christmas crowds on Tuesday evening, past the throngs at Bradesco watching the Disney-like choir/weird-elf-like-people-prancing-around-with-cardboard-triangles performance, squeezed past the Christmas bridge, past a string quartet playing Bach/Brahms (couldn't decide which, could have been either), past a rather good Michael Jackson impersonator, until we got to Consolacão. This is what we saw:
If you've read my blog on Christmas lights in SP, you will be aware that this Chanukah display, in comparison, is pretty pathetic. AND they had all the arms of the menorah lit on the first night - WHICH IS NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN. You're supposed to light one extra each night until you've got a fully lit menorah. DETAILS ARE IMPORTANT.
Yes, I'm a pedant.
You may/may not know this, but Brazil has the second largest population of Jews in South America. Argentina has the most, with the vast majority of them living in Buenos Aires. Brazil's Jewish population is roughly 100,000 and the city with the largest Jewish community is Sao Paulo, with a population of 45,000. There is a shitload of intermarriage and assimilation so it's really very hard to tell exactly what the population figures are (i.e. there could be a lot more), but I found a page somewhere on t'internet where they were quoting stuff all over the place so I lifted the info off of it.
I can attest to the fact that there are a lot of Jews in Sao Paulo. First of all, I'm one of them (ha), and secondly I've met quite a few without actually looking for them. Those I have met are not religious, much like myself. Sao Paulo's biggest congregation - 'Congregação Israelita Paulista' (something like a Reform synagogue) - has a membership of 2,000 families (that's a lot) and is the largest single congregation in Latin America.
So with all these Jews around, we've been looking for the usual signs of Chanukah. The first one we saw was actually in our nearest large supermarket, Carrefour. This one was up before Chanukah started (Tuesday night, FYI):
Sweet, innit?
Then our host Fernando told us they usually put up a large menorah at the end of Avenida Paulista near Consolacão, so we braved the Christmas crowds on Tuesday evening, past the throngs at Bradesco watching the Disney-like choir/weird-elf-like-people-prancing-around-with-cardboard-triangles performance, squeezed past the Christmas bridge, past a string quartet playing Bach/Brahms (couldn't decide which, could have been either), past a rather good Michael Jackson impersonator, until we got to Consolacão. This is what we saw:
If you've read my blog on Christmas lights in SP, you will be aware that this Chanukah display, in comparison, is pretty pathetic. AND they had all the arms of the menorah lit on the first night - WHICH IS NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN. You're supposed to light one extra each night until you've got a fully lit menorah. DETAILS ARE IMPORTANT.
Yes, I'm a pedant.
Saturday 17 December 2011
Things that annoy me #1
I am a generally happy-go-lucky person (in person, haha), but I am also easily annoyed by little things. As much as I have enjoyed living in this city for various reasons, there are several little things in Sao Paulo (maybe some of them are national things, I can't say yet) that annoy me. I have decided I will make this an occasional feature called 'Things that annoy me' when I have at least three things to bitch about.
This is what I've got so far:
1. People walking slowly. EVERYWHERE. OH MY GOD. This is supposed to be the biggest metropolis in South America, every Brazilian in London I spoke to said "oh SP, that place is just work, work, work" so I was expecting a bit of a pace, but hell no. People meander around as if they don't have a care in the world. Rich people, business people, policemen, beggars, random crazy people, shop workers, cafe workers, people with their families. You name it, everyone walks slow. Not only do they walk slow, when there's a narrow pavement (if you're American, just assume that every time I say pavement I mean 'sidewalk' - you're just going to have to learn to translate) they walk in rows of maybe 3-4 people, talking to each other, totally oblivious to everyone and everything around them. Saying "com licensa" does NOT work. You literally have to walk ahead into the road to get around them. Then when you get around one group, there's another one doing exactly the same thing. And another one, and another one, and another one. The problem is compounded when you try to walk down Avenida Paulista at one of the following times: morning rush hour, evening rush hour, lunch time. Then there's the random stopping in the middle of the street. People just stop in the middle of the street: sometimes to look at something, sometimes because they're having a particularly animated argument on their cell phone, sometimes because they forgot which way they're supposed to be going, sometimes because that lanchonete (snack shop) looked too good to pass up and they had to turn around - and they HAD to do it RIGHT in the middle of YOUR path.
2. People cancelling appointments. Always at the last minute. Even when you've confirmed the appointment with them in the morning, just to make sure because you know what Brazilians are like. I've heard them all: "I forgot I have to take my car to the mechanics", "I have to pick up my kid", "Oh, I forgot I already had a meeting at that time - can we reschedule?". Doesn't anyone use Outlook here? They all have bloody iPhones or Blackberrys or super-duper Samsung touchscreen thingies - fucking use them!! If you can't guarantee you are going to make an appointment/meeting - DON'T FUCKING MAKE ONE. And STOP wasting my time - I've got better things to be doing with it than waiting around for you NOT to show up!
3. Bureaucracy. I've only just started touching on this, but they have a really weird way of sorting stuff out here. We both got a 'Bilhete Unico' (a bit like an oystercard) for the transport system. For some bizarre reason the chip in my Bilhete Unico malfunctioned and we had to get it reset. We only discovered this after going to the metro station and telling the lady at the desk that the card wasn't working. She didn't believe us, scanned it, said it was working fine. We said it wasn't working because it couldn't be read on the 3 buses we tried it on yesterday - she said no, it was working fine. We walked away and tried to get the balance reader to read the balance, it didn't work - she said no, it was working fine. Then we told her to add some credit to it - let's see how well it's working, bitch. When she tried that, she said "oh, it's not working" (no shit, Sherlock) and ONLY THEN did she tell us we'd need to get it reset. "Can we get it reset here?" we asked. "No, you have to go to an SP Trans office". "Can't you just replace it?" (not an unreasonable question, they replace oystercards for free in London if they malfunction) "No, you have to get it reset at the SP Trans office". Of course, the SP Trans office was fucking miles away and was of naturally shut when we got there at 4.30pm. HALF FOUR IN THE AFTERNOON. We got it sorted in the end, but you bet your ass I'm being a hell of a lot more careful with my card now.
Another example: to apply for a CPF (tax number - you can't wipe your arse without one here) you have to go to a "Correios" (post office), give them your details and then they give you a "protocolo" which is a receipt with all your details that you then have to take to a "Poupa Tempo" (general government service centre) and they will give you the CPF. Why can't they just frickin' give it to me at the Post Office? Why do I have to travel to one of only TWO Poupa Tempos in SP that actually issue CPFs??? Oh sorry, make that ONE because the one in Praca da Se no longer deals with CPFs as of December 16th!!
This is what I've got so far:
1. People walking slowly. EVERYWHERE. OH MY GOD. This is supposed to be the biggest metropolis in South America, every Brazilian in London I spoke to said "oh SP, that place is just work, work, work" so I was expecting a bit of a pace, but hell no. People meander around as if they don't have a care in the world. Rich people, business people, policemen, beggars, random crazy people, shop workers, cafe workers, people with their families. You name it, everyone walks slow. Not only do they walk slow, when there's a narrow pavement (if you're American, just assume that every time I say pavement I mean 'sidewalk' - you're just going to have to learn to translate) they walk in rows of maybe 3-4 people, talking to each other, totally oblivious to everyone and everything around them. Saying "com licensa" does NOT work. You literally have to walk ahead into the road to get around them. Then when you get around one group, there's another one doing exactly the same thing. And another one, and another one, and another one. The problem is compounded when you try to walk down Avenida Paulista at one of the following times: morning rush hour, evening rush hour, lunch time. Then there's the random stopping in the middle of the street. People just stop in the middle of the street: sometimes to look at something, sometimes because they're having a particularly animated argument on their cell phone, sometimes because they forgot which way they're supposed to be going, sometimes because that lanchonete (snack shop) looked too good to pass up and they had to turn around - and they HAD to do it RIGHT in the middle of YOUR path.
2. People cancelling appointments. Always at the last minute. Even when you've confirmed the appointment with them in the morning, just to make sure because you know what Brazilians are like. I've heard them all: "I forgot I have to take my car to the mechanics", "I have to pick up my kid", "Oh, I forgot I already had a meeting at that time - can we reschedule?". Doesn't anyone use Outlook here? They all have bloody iPhones or Blackberrys or super-duper Samsung touchscreen thingies - fucking use them!! If you can't guarantee you are going to make an appointment/meeting - DON'T FUCKING MAKE ONE. And STOP wasting my time - I've got better things to be doing with it than waiting around for you NOT to show up!
3. Bureaucracy. I've only just started touching on this, but they have a really weird way of sorting stuff out here. We both got a 'Bilhete Unico' (a bit like an oystercard) for the transport system. For some bizarre reason the chip in my Bilhete Unico malfunctioned and we had to get it reset. We only discovered this after going to the metro station and telling the lady at the desk that the card wasn't working. She didn't believe us, scanned it, said it was working fine. We said it wasn't working because it couldn't be read on the 3 buses we tried it on yesterday - she said no, it was working fine. We walked away and tried to get the balance reader to read the balance, it didn't work - she said no, it was working fine. Then we told her to add some credit to it - let's see how well it's working, bitch. When she tried that, she said "oh, it's not working" (no shit, Sherlock) and ONLY THEN did she tell us we'd need to get it reset. "Can we get it reset here?" we asked. "No, you have to go to an SP Trans office". "Can't you just replace it?" (not an unreasonable question, they replace oystercards for free in London if they malfunction) "No, you have to get it reset at the SP Trans office". Of course, the SP Trans office was fucking miles away and was of naturally shut when we got there at 4.30pm. HALF FOUR IN THE AFTERNOON. We got it sorted in the end, but you bet your ass I'm being a hell of a lot more careful with my card now.
Another example: to apply for a CPF (tax number - you can't wipe your arse without one here) you have to go to a "Correios" (post office), give them your details and then they give you a "protocolo" which is a receipt with all your details that you then have to take to a "Poupa Tempo" (general government service centre) and they will give you the CPF. Why can't they just frickin' give it to me at the Post Office? Why do I have to travel to one of only TWO Poupa Tempos in SP that actually issue CPFs??? Oh sorry, make that ONE because the one in Praca da Se no longer deals with CPFs as of December 16th!!
Wednesday 14 December 2011
Christmas lights in Sao Paulo
I was warned long before coming here that this city goes a bit doolally when it comes to christmas decorations, and I have not been disappointed. So far, on Avenida Paulista, I have seen:
The most interesting thing about the Christmas lights on Avenida Paulista are the crowds that come to view them every evening. Most of the photos were taken on Monday evening. There were thousands of people out and about late, around 9-10pm, with their families, taking pictures, walking around slowly and blocking the pavement (sidewalk, for any Americans reading this). There was also a huge queue to get into the Christmas bridge. I have no idea what's in there, but I intend on finding out, child or no child in tow. My mother's small enough....maybe I can take her in...
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| FIESP building |
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| Probably a bank |
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| I want to say HSBC...? |
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| HUGE Christmas bridge over Av Paulista - apparently there's going to be a massive show. This is the first time, speaking as a Jew, that I've actually been *excited* about xmas. |
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| Slightly spooky and quite beautiful LED display in Parque Trianon-MASP - this park is usually closed at night due to cruising. |
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| Christmas tree in Parque Trianon-MASP |
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| Itau Bank, which is in competition with the Jungle-themed bank. I think the jungle bank won, in my opinion. |
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| Crowds outside Itau Bank |
General Update
Chihuahua update: he now has fleas. We had to dose him with frontline and then bleach and spray anti-flea spray everywhere. Apparently it's something to do with him feeling unwell. I don't give a flying f*** what it's about, I don't want to be bitten to pieces any more. Although, it's worse for my mother because she has some kind of allergic reaction to flea bites - she gets a massive swelling about 5-10 centimetres wide. Ouch.
Portuguese: my spoken portuguese is bollocks due to me speaking english most of the time. I have a lot of shit to do: find work, sort out visas, other legal crap with our (english speaking) lawyer, make plans...we're really busy and taking the time to "umm" and "errr" through an awful Portuguese conversation is not top of my list of priorities. I know it's important, I will get around to enforcing some portuguese conversation for a minimum of one hour a day at some point, but at the moment I'm limited to speaking it in shops, cafes/restaurants (which I don't go to very often), and screaming "COM LICENSA!!!" (roughly translated: "EXCUSE ME!!!") when trying to get past all the meandering Brazilians on Avenida Paulista. On the plus side, my verbal comprehension is very good; i.e, I can understand everything you say but I will talk back to you like a 3-year-old.
Personal life: don't even go there.
Portuguese: my spoken portuguese is bollocks due to me speaking english most of the time. I have a lot of shit to do: find work, sort out visas, other legal crap with our (english speaking) lawyer, make plans...we're really busy and taking the time to "umm" and "errr" through an awful Portuguese conversation is not top of my list of priorities. I know it's important, I will get around to enforcing some portuguese conversation for a minimum of one hour a day at some point, but at the moment I'm limited to speaking it in shops, cafes/restaurants (which I don't go to very often), and screaming "COM LICENSA!!!" (roughly translated: "EXCUSE ME!!!") when trying to get past all the meandering Brazilians on Avenida Paulista. On the plus side, my verbal comprehension is very good; i.e, I can understand everything you say but I will talk back to you like a 3-year-old.
Personal life: don't even go there.
Friday 9 December 2011
Cachorro Fofinho
What I, or should I say we (just to be fair), have been dealing with mostly this week is the dog. On Sunday he managed to get his paws caught in the escalator on the metro and had a rather nasty and bloody accident. It looked a lot worse than it was.
We had to rush him to local veterinary hospital (!) for emergency treatment. By the way, taxi drivers are assholes. They wouldn't take us the impossibly-far-to-drive 6 blocks to the vets because we had a dog, despite the fact they could see very clearly that he was bleeding and he's TINY.
The vet hospital was better equipped and staffed than most human hospitals I have had the pleasure to see the inside of. Most of the staff didn't speak English, so we had to communicate in very basic Portuguese (I'm beginning to graduate to full sentences, but still reverting to a pigeon version of the language when I'm in a hurry), using various hand signals and eventually Google Translate.
They had to clean up his wounds and he yelped, squealed and barked his way through the whole thing - even after they administered a sedative. He's a chihuahua, they're "agitado" (jumpy/fussy) in general.
Then he vomited everything we fed him for about 2 days - including his antibiotics - so since Tuesday he has had to go to the vets twice a day for antibiotic shots. He hates going there and saves all his pee for whoever is unlucky enough to be administering the shots. He's eating special [expensive] mush for his dicky tummy and he's still refusing to drink water, so we mix it into the mush to make sure he doesn't get dehydrated.
Other than that, he's happily hobbling along on his messed up paws (no broken bones, just a couple of nails came off - hence the blood) that are healing quite well, and is enduring his neck cone. Bless.
We had to rush him to local veterinary hospital (!) for emergency treatment. By the way, taxi drivers are assholes. They wouldn't take us the impossibly-far-to-drive 6 blocks to the vets because we had a dog, despite the fact they could see very clearly that he was bleeding and he's TINY.
The vet hospital was better equipped and staffed than most human hospitals I have had the pleasure to see the inside of. Most of the staff didn't speak English, so we had to communicate in very basic Portuguese (I'm beginning to graduate to full sentences, but still reverting to a pigeon version of the language when I'm in a hurry), using various hand signals and eventually Google Translate.
They had to clean up his wounds and he yelped, squealed and barked his way through the whole thing - even after they administered a sedative. He's a chihuahua, they're "agitado" (jumpy/fussy) in general.
Then he vomited everything we fed him for about 2 days - including his antibiotics - so since Tuesday he has had to go to the vets twice a day for antibiotic shots. He hates going there and saves all his pee for whoever is unlucky enough to be administering the shots. He's eating special [expensive] mush for his dicky tummy and he's still refusing to drink water, so we mix it into the mush to make sure he doesn't get dehydrated.
Other than that, he's happily hobbling along on his messed up paws (no broken bones, just a couple of nails came off - hence the blood) that are healing quite well, and is enduring his neck cone. Bless.
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| "When this thing comes off, I will have my revenge..." |
Sunday 4 December 2011
My mediocre birthday and some Brazilian sentimentality
Yesterday was my birthday. I turned 27. It was a pretty 'meh' birthday as far as birthdays go. I hadn't had the best week so I didn't really feel like celebrating. I'm not going to go into it, I don't want this blog to be too much of a downer. I'm well past my emo days, thank fuck.
Anyway, yesterday morning I dragged my arse out of bed at 8.30am on a Saturday, showered and got dressed because I promised my mother (why the hell did I do that?) that I would attend synagogue at 10am. So, not only was my birthday going to be mediocre, I wouldn't even get a lie-in.
I got to the synagogue and got a very polite third degree treatment from the two security guards dressed entirely in black: black suits, black shirts, black ties. Oswald Mosley would have been proud. The second one asked me in perfect english for my passport, of which I carry a photocopy with me everywhere because I'm not idiotic enough to carry around an original. People want to see your passport for the stupidest reasons in this country - like in order to get into a synagogue, for instance. He went behind the big metal electronic sliding door for 5-10 minutes doing god knows what before he decided to let me in.
I had skipped breakfast and my morning coffee, so as I took my place next to my mother in the third row from the front all I could think was "I hope the time passes quickly so I can stuff my face at kiddush".
Then something unexpected happened. There were two simchas (celebrations) happening at the synagogue: a barmitzvah and the naming of a baby girl.
First, the family of the baby came up to the bimah (large table at the front of the synagogue) and they announced her hebrew name and her portuguese name, Catarina, to the congregation. The Rabbi asked the father to explain the reason for her being named Catarina. The father stepped forward to microphone, said something unintelligible to my ears (everyone was speaking in portuguese) for about 10 seconds then his voice broke and he started crying. His wife and two teenage daughters that were standing behind him also started crying. He was speaking in fits and starts and mentioned something about his "avó" (grandmother). I looked around the room and could see other people crying. I looked at my mother and she was crying. I realised I was crying too.
After that was over, the Barmitzvah boy came to the bimah and his father joined him. His father read a brief speech, held his shit together, gave his son a long and emotional hug, then went back to his seat. Next was the Barmitzvah boy's little brother - he couldn't have been more than 9 years old. He was already sobbing before he got to the Bimah. I couldn't really understand what he said either (something about whenever he has a question or a problem, his brother is always there for him), but I was bawling my eyes out along with everyone else regardless. By the time the mother came up to the Bimah, I was all cried out, she talked for a long time and my mind wandered. But it was all very emotional and everyone was in tears.
This is the polar opposite of what goes on at a British synagogue. Yes, the whole family will be there but they'll be bitching behind each others backs, looking around the room at who dressed well and who looks a mess, making sarcastic jokes during the speeches, hiding their boredom ineffectively, and generally clock-watching. Every eye in the house will be dry. Jewish family rituals are generally seen as a chore. There will be the odd member of the family saying "isn't it a lovely simcha?" but everyone finds them annoying anyway, so their opinion is generally disregarded. OK, it's not always that bad but there's a lot of that going on.
After the service, there were two kiddushim going on in two separate halls. The entire congregation was invited to both. The baby one was nice but more like a normal kiddush. The Barmitzvah one was a real party. There was a lot of very good & very expensive food on a beautiful long buffet table, with real cutlery and plates, a flower display, another table for dessert, chocolates and sweets, 15 round tables exquisitely laid out, catering staff with headsets roaming around handing out champagne and soft drinks, clearing empty plates, there were 2 DJs, a sound system, and a dancing area. Usually in England this kind of thing would be reserved for family and friends; it would be by invite only. But no, this was a party for the entire congregation. People of all ages joined in with the usual dancing you get at any Barmitzvah or Jewish wedding. It was lovely.
A gang of eastern european octogenarians took me round to both parties and kept plying me with straight vodka shots (they don't have standard shot measures here, FYI - it's whatever size you want it to be) until I had to leave at 2pm, on slightly unsteady feet.
I'm definitely starting to feel at home here.
Anyway, yesterday morning I dragged my arse out of bed at 8.30am on a Saturday, showered and got dressed because I promised my mother (why the hell did I do that?) that I would attend synagogue at 10am. So, not only was my birthday going to be mediocre, I wouldn't even get a lie-in.
I got to the synagogue and got a very polite third degree treatment from the two security guards dressed entirely in black: black suits, black shirts, black ties. Oswald Mosley would have been proud. The second one asked me in perfect english for my passport, of which I carry a photocopy with me everywhere because I'm not idiotic enough to carry around an original. People want to see your passport for the stupidest reasons in this country - like in order to get into a synagogue, for instance. He went behind the big metal electronic sliding door for 5-10 minutes doing god knows what before he decided to let me in.
I had skipped breakfast and my morning coffee, so as I took my place next to my mother in the third row from the front all I could think was "I hope the time passes quickly so I can stuff my face at kiddush".
Then something unexpected happened. There were two simchas (celebrations) happening at the synagogue: a barmitzvah and the naming of a baby girl.
First, the family of the baby came up to the bimah (large table at the front of the synagogue) and they announced her hebrew name and her portuguese name, Catarina, to the congregation. The Rabbi asked the father to explain the reason for her being named Catarina. The father stepped forward to microphone, said something unintelligible to my ears (everyone was speaking in portuguese) for about 10 seconds then his voice broke and he started crying. His wife and two teenage daughters that were standing behind him also started crying. He was speaking in fits and starts and mentioned something about his "avó" (grandmother). I looked around the room and could see other people crying. I looked at my mother and she was crying. I realised I was crying too.
After that was over, the Barmitzvah boy came to the bimah and his father joined him. His father read a brief speech, held his shit together, gave his son a long and emotional hug, then went back to his seat. Next was the Barmitzvah boy's little brother - he couldn't have been more than 9 years old. He was already sobbing before he got to the Bimah. I couldn't really understand what he said either (something about whenever he has a question or a problem, his brother is always there for him), but I was bawling my eyes out along with everyone else regardless. By the time the mother came up to the Bimah, I was all cried out, she talked for a long time and my mind wandered. But it was all very emotional and everyone was in tears.
This is the polar opposite of what goes on at a British synagogue. Yes, the whole family will be there but they'll be bitching behind each others backs, looking around the room at who dressed well and who looks a mess, making sarcastic jokes during the speeches, hiding their boredom ineffectively, and generally clock-watching. Every eye in the house will be dry. Jewish family rituals are generally seen as a chore. There will be the odd member of the family saying "isn't it a lovely simcha?" but everyone finds them annoying anyway, so their opinion is generally disregarded. OK, it's not always that bad but there's a lot of that going on.
After the service, there were two kiddushim going on in two separate halls. The entire congregation was invited to both. The baby one was nice but more like a normal kiddush. The Barmitzvah one was a real party. There was a lot of very good & very expensive food on a beautiful long buffet table, with real cutlery and plates, a flower display, another table for dessert, chocolates and sweets, 15 round tables exquisitely laid out, catering staff with headsets roaming around handing out champagne and soft drinks, clearing empty plates, there were 2 DJs, a sound system, and a dancing area. Usually in England this kind of thing would be reserved for family and friends; it would be by invite only. But no, this was a party for the entire congregation. People of all ages joined in with the usual dancing you get at any Barmitzvah or Jewish wedding. It was lovely.
A gang of eastern european octogenarians took me round to both parties and kept plying me with straight vodka shots (they don't have standard shot measures here, FYI - it's whatever size you want it to be) until I had to leave at 2pm, on slightly unsteady feet.
I'm definitely starting to feel at home here.
Saturday 3 December 2011
Fome Zero
A few days ago in class we learned about a government program called 'Fome Zero' ('Zero Hunger') that was introduced by ex-president Lula in 2003.
I had been given a brief introduction to the scheme by a well-heeled Paulistana last Friday, but the way she put it was slightly different to what I read later. She said something along the lines of "the government started paying them to stop migrating and stay where they were, because there were lots of people coming from the North-East, crime & poverty were increasing and Sao Paulo was getting too full. So they started paying them and it's getting less now." Um, OK. Thanks for that explanation... [backing away slowly from what would be a Daily Mail reader where I come from]
Then we read a text on it in school and it was more like "there was starvation, poverty and high infant mortality going on in several parts of Brazil - particularly the North-East - and the government pledged to do something about it". Sounds a little different, huh?
As with anything political, the reasons for undertaking it were probably a bit of both.
The centrepiece of the Fome Zero program is the Bolsa Familia (Family Allowance), which is the largest conditional cash transfer system in the world. It contributed to a 27.7% decrease in poverty in Brazil during ex-President Lula's first term (2001-2006). 27.7%. The condition of receiving the Bolsa Familia is that the family's children attend school.
I've heard and read about funds badly administered, that they don't always get to the people that need them the most, or that it's just throwing money at the problem and not actually fixing it - and maybe on some level they are all true. However, a decrease in poverty like that is not to be sniffed at - it is a major achievement.
Brazil has a long way to go on a lot of fronts, but they are making progress slowly - and the will to change is there.
I had been given a brief introduction to the scheme by a well-heeled Paulistana last Friday, but the way she put it was slightly different to what I read later. She said something along the lines of "the government started paying them to stop migrating and stay where they were, because there were lots of people coming from the North-East, crime & poverty were increasing and Sao Paulo was getting too full. So they started paying them and it's getting less now." Um, OK. Thanks for that explanation... [backing away slowly from what would be a Daily Mail reader where I come from]
Then we read a text on it in school and it was more like "there was starvation, poverty and high infant mortality going on in several parts of Brazil - particularly the North-East - and the government pledged to do something about it". Sounds a little different, huh?
As with anything political, the reasons for undertaking it were probably a bit of both.
The centrepiece of the Fome Zero program is the Bolsa Familia (Family Allowance), which is the largest conditional cash transfer system in the world. It contributed to a 27.7% decrease in poverty in Brazil during ex-President Lula's first term (2001-2006). 27.7%. The condition of receiving the Bolsa Familia is that the family's children attend school.
I've heard and read about funds badly administered, that they don't always get to the people that need them the most, or that it's just throwing money at the problem and not actually fixing it - and maybe on some level they are all true. However, a decrease in poverty like that is not to be sniffed at - it is a major achievement.
Brazil has a long way to go on a lot of fronts, but they are making progress slowly - and the will to change is there.
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