Expectations

I thought my expectations for this move were inconsequential. I was convinced that I had no concept of what daily life would look like, and thus couldn’t intelligibly set a bar for this life to live up to.

I was wrong.

I figured this out approximately 3.5 weeks after our arrival, engulfed by unidentified tension and empty cartons of ice cream.

Unbeknownst to my conscious self, I had curated an exquisite library of expectations depicting what life abroad would / should look like, based on my experience and love for travelling abroad.

Of interest:
Backpacking abroad as a single woman ≠ Living abroad as a stay at home mom

This feels very obvious now. But in the midst of planning and packing and baby-having, I missed the incongruence.

The Discovery

We met a family that has been here for 10+ years, but have yet to venture beyond the border. On the way home I remarked what a shame it would be for them to move away, having left South America unexplored. Greg’s voice of wisdom pointed out that living in Brazil is a worthy adventure in and of itself.

Of course, yes… of course it is.

Though a quiet corner of my soul wondered... Is it? Is living in Brazil adventure enough? The absurdity of the question seemed to warrant immediate dismissal, yet it refused to be stifled.

Because here’s the honest truth: thus far, living in Brazil feels very not enough. Exceptions aside (see previous post), living here feels a lot like living in Utah. I spend most of my hours at home: playing with the kids, feeding the kids, convincing the kids to sleep.

The explorer within begged for more… begged to not be the sap that fell victim to a cruel bait and switch.

I literally estimated the number of weeks we would spend in Brazil and calculated that we had already let 2% of our time slip by. TWO PERCENT… gone. Our days were dwindling and we had not one trip even planned.

This is a ridiculous perspective, I know… now. But then? Then, it (along with a few other choice challenges) gave way to the most pitiful of parties.

I stewed there for a bit.

And Grace did too.

reality check

It is cleaning the new rug with a lint roller because the vacuum has not yet arrived (along with the rest of your household goods).

It is shopping for said new rug and hesitantly allowing your toddler to jump freely on top of the giant rug piles because this country “lets kids be kids”… and finally relaxing when another family does the same.

It is food court options at the mall serving wine.

It is so many moments of shear frustration created by this nearly impenetrable barrier called language…

And another moment of pure gratitude, when the toddler comments rather loudly on how “large that man is” in the grocery store. I tell myself he didn’t understand and take comfort knowing that, most likely, I am correct.

It is sensory overload every time you leave the house.

It is needing Greg’s co-worker to call the chiropractor for you because his receptionist does not speak English.

It is doctors giving out personal cell phone numbers, should you have any questions later on.

It is prescription refills that do not require a prescription… “Just tell the pharmacy what you need,” the doctor says.

It is wiping away tears (the happy kind) as Greg describes his first experience on public transit: station workers pushing from the outside to squeeze more people into sardine-packed trains because, as they say, “a mother’s love always can accept one more.”

It is typing only the letter “t” into the address bar before your internet browser graciously fills in the rest, because it knows what you need: translate.google.com

It is battling colds in the 75° winter chill.

It is walking down the sidewalk as your toddler calls out “BUS!” every time a bus drives by, and remembering a street corner in Utah where we celebrated confirmation of this upcoming adventure (Burger Bar style) - where the toddler also called out “BUS!” every time one drove by. We had laughed and said we’d be “that” family in Brazil. And now we are.

It is swelling pride when that precious toddler starts calling out “ônibus” instead :)

It is pushing the stroller and wearing the baby into a business park full of business people because, after this morning, you need an iced chai latte (your first in the last six weeks) - and Starbucks is the only place you know will have it.

It is meeting for brunch at 9:30 am and returning home just shy of 4 pm.

It is Greg dripping with sweat after an hour and a half drive home with no air and fogging windows to allow the recently bullet-proofed, tinted windows time to seal.

It is discovering the most amazing French-inspired dessert cafe a block away from your home.

It is processing and prayer and honest conversations, on continuous loop.

This is how Brazil looks and feels, now that the honeymoon phase has wrapped.

Week Two

This past week brought with it all. the. emotions. Thankfully, the workweek was short due to a national holiday and by Friday night we were once again in awe of the opportunity before us.

The Notables:

My first solo grocery run with the kids, via Uber. I have no shame in saying that ice cream was definitely used to bribe encourage good behavior :) And it seems that all adorable old ladies also do their grocery shopping first thing in the morning… I can’t count how many times I had to say “Eu não fala Portuguese” while trying to gratefully accept what I assumed to be admiration of my beautiful children :)

We now have a car. Our first family outing was to Wal-Mart (lame, I know). Greg handled the crazy traffic and my loud, knee-jerk warnings like a champ. The police managed to find us only once as we were trying to make a U-turn (which we thought was legal but was apparently not). Thankfully they waved us on after we moved through the intersection, but their point was made and resulted in our first (Brazilian) family precedent: no U-turns. Going forward, if Google Maps tries to convince us otherwise, we will happily make 3 right turns to avoid it.

So, yes… Wal-Mart. Since our arrival, we’ve been searching for an umbrella stroller (which sadly doesn’t seem to be a thing here). Greg’s co-worker mentioned that Wal-Mart might have one though... That spark of hope, combined with the fact that my hair dryer decided to die, determined the destination of our first family outing (in the car). I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it was Brazilian in all but its name. Because space is in short supply, this Wal-Mart has levels. And because people don’t just buy a basket’s worth of items at Wal-Mart, the store has inclined, moving sidewalks made to lock your cart in place so it won’t roll over you while making your way to Level 2! Also, price checks are performed by roller skate-clad employees who speed back and forth between the check out line and the item in question :)

Saturday brought our first truly Brazilian restaurant experience. The unhurried, lingering kind that leaves you wondering which meal you actually came to eat. The building wove beautifully through pre-existing trees and featured a literal tree house AND playroom for kids to enjoy… thus making unhurried, lingering parents possible. We met friends Vera, Vlad, and daughter Sofia for lunch at 1 pm. At 2:15 the idea of ordering food entered the conversation. And for the next several hours, London passed from lap to lap as the adults took turns perusing a sumptuous buffet of local cuisine, Cora and Sofia having joined a flock of kids roaming happily through the restaurant. There we lingered. unrushed by schedules. fully present with these, our first friends. until 5:30 pm. It was lovely.

And our Sunday followed suit… church. a stroll to the padaria (bakery). a stop at the local park. If this becomes our Sunday rhythm, I will relish each and every one of them.