More mosquitoes

Was up much of the night, though exhausted, on guard duty against evil mosquitoes, two of them, which as ever seem way too crafty and intelligent for such a minute brain. I still don't understand how they manage to disappear so completely when you try to swat them. Would love to see what happens in super-slow-motion. Did finally get them, which as usual at least satisfies the primeval hunter in me. But depressing that we still have them despite the colder weather. And uncomfortable that I have to keep the main light on in order to see them, thus upsetting my son's sleep.

Keeping the sun off my son

The angle of the sun's rays here in SP is much more directly into one's eyes, or is it the lack of trees and greenery to deflect and disperse them ? For whatever reason I find myself often having to turn Sam's buggy around and pull it behind me so as to keep him in the shade. An extra challenge as I fight the sidewalks and precipitous plunges from curb side to road and back again.

Critical faculties

The comment on my "Baby steps" post got me thinking about why people blog or Facebook, Twitter etc. Much has been written about these new, so-called social media. Clearly, for many people this is a key part of how they earn their living, but it is also blurring, inevitably, into who they are. I began writing this blog for commercial reasons but soon changed tack. Now I see it more as a personal journal of a particular place and period - in my life and in Brazil's history. It also serves as a pressure valve - self-administered therapy. Which of course might give a distorted picture to others, prompting comments such as the one referred to above.

Whether we can talk to ourselves while being watched, in the same way as when we are in private is another matter. Perhaps I am guilty of "branding" this blog as a sort of "everything you ever wanted to hate about Brazil but were too afraid to vent" ? It would arguably be good "positioning" since the market for "wonderful, exotic, booming" Brazil is already overcrowded.

An i for detail

The last few posts have been made with my new iPad 2 (thank you bro and UK). Sadly there are certain things I can't do via this input device (eg correcting some mistakes) and the over-zealous predictive texting can result in ridiculous errors. So apologies if current posts don't read quite as well.

Baby steps

"Brazil's not for you", some people say when they hear my complaints. Some but not all, since many value the glass half empty perspective, especially if they feel unable to say the same things in public. But there is one perspective which trumps all: looking after a baby.

As a first time father and, simultaneously, a first time visitor to Brazil, and not being here exactly for holiday or work but some other kind of quotidian existence, much of my time, like this morning, is taken up with parenting duties. My son is 7 months now and teeth are beginning to show, but it's not just teething agonies to deal with. He needs a lot more stimulation so that brings a different kind of parental pressure. And guilt. The cost and quality of decent baby products here is one of the worst aspects of Brazil, a country which otherwise shows so much easy affection to little people.

Pouring cold water

It is normal in Brazil not to have running hot water in your kitchen. In our rented apartment, we used to have an electric hot tap, but it was more like a death trap since it kept electrocuting us. We complained and found it replaced by a second cold tap. We also have no hot water for the washing machine.

When my partner's parents kindly sourced the expensive top-loader I was horrified by how impossibly slowly it operated, moving an inch to the right, then an inch to the left etc. But the news about cold water only was too much. And it still managed to turn an entire wash pink. The combination of cold water and rubbish washing machine ensures much aggravation, especially since the terrible quality Brazilian clothes will come out creased and shrivelled, or worse, requiring much ironing.

In the name of the father, the son ...

... and the unholy bureaucracy of Policia Federal, we travelled again today to Lapa-land, another wretchedly dreary area of Sao Paulo, famous only as the birthplace of my son's mother. I have, for various reasons, overstayed my latest 80-day visa and am now being charged R$ 8 and a bit per day for the privilege of remaining in Brazil. Visitors to the UK can stay 6 months at a time, but then the UK is still a developing nation. Hoping to get my "parent of a Brazilian child" visa underway by the end of the week so that the punitive clock will stop ticking. Otherwise it's off to Uruguay, which I'm curious to see anyway.