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Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Relaxing Thoughts
I have been so swamped with work lately - not to mention the stressful process of buying the house - that I need to find a few minutes to relax amid the chaos. Here are some photos from my archives that hopefully will lull me into peace.
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Sunday, August 02, 2009
Home Is Where I Want to Be*
After an insane month of calls with real estate agents and financial institutions, credit checks, lamenting over tax returns and the general feeling of being on a roller coaster 24/7, we did it.
We managed to get a mortgage. The dream home will be ours.
This happpy result is due to the incredibly hard work of Rico, my mom and the brilliant broker and agent we ended up working with. It is also thanks to the phenomenal generosity of our families, who put 100% of their time and resources up to help us make this a reality.
We have the closing scheduled in about 10 days, and the actual move-in will take place on September 23rd. From then, it is on to the fun part: decorating!
*from my absolute favorite song of all times, "This Must Be the Place" by Talking Heads
We managed to get a mortgage. The dream home will be ours.
This happpy result is due to the incredibly hard work of Rico, my mom and the brilliant broker and agent we ended up working with. It is also thanks to the phenomenal generosity of our families, who put 100% of their time and resources up to help us make this a reality.
We have the closing scheduled in about 10 days, and the actual move-in will take place on September 23rd. From then, it is on to the fun part: decorating!
*from my absolute favorite song of all times, "This Must Be the Place" by Talking Heads
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Beet It
Roasted beet and feta is my favorite salad ever. I can't get enough of it. Definitely worth the work, and the cerise color is to die for.
You will need:
1kg of beets
1 disc of feta (approx 1/2 cup), cut into cubes
parsley
olive oil
balsamic vinegar
salt/pepper
Trim the tops off the beets so that you have just a little tuft of green remaining. Wrap each beet in aluminum foil and put on an oven tray.
Roast at 200C for about 55 minutes, or until tender when poked with a fork.
Once the beets are cool, peel and cut into cubes.
Toss cubed beets with feta and about 2 tbsp of chopped parsley (or to taste). Drizzle over some olive oil and balsamic, and finish off with freshly ground pepper and just a pinch of salt.
Heaven! And healthy!
I just made some and had to put it away before I spoil my dinner at the Macau restaurant later this evening with friends.
You will need:
1kg of beets
1 disc of feta (approx 1/2 cup), cut into cubes
parsley
olive oil
balsamic vinegar
salt/pepper
Trim the tops off the beets so that you have just a little tuft of green remaining. Wrap each beet in aluminum foil and put on an oven tray.
Roast at 200C for about 55 minutes, or until tender when poked with a fork.
Once the beets are cool, peel and cut into cubes.
Toss cubed beets with feta and about 2 tbsp of chopped parsley (or to taste). Drizzle over some olive oil and balsamic, and finish off with freshly ground pepper and just a pinch of salt.
Heaven! And healthy!
I just made some and had to put it away before I spoil my dinner at the Macau restaurant later this evening with friends.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Visit from my Sogra
My mother-in-law came to visit for the first time a couple weeks ago, and we had a great time showing her Kruger Park and our daily life in Maputo. Unfortunately both Rico and I were quite busy that week, so Emilia really got a chance to know our flat and work routine as opposed to far-flung tourist hideouts, but it was still a great way to catch up and 'matar as saudades'.
Bonus points for a trip to Barberton en route to Johannesburg. Barberton is where my favorite novel, "The Power of One", is set. I felt like Peekay and Grandpa Chook might be around the next corner!
Bonus points for a trip to Barberton en route to Johannesburg. Barberton is where my favorite novel, "The Power of One", is set. I felt like Peekay and Grandpa Chook might be around the next corner!
Sunday, July 26, 2009
How Have I Changed? (the superficial version)
How have I changed since moving to Mozambique? Significantly, I imagine. I get glimpses of the magnitude when I go home, when I visit old friends, when I am reunited with old stomping grounds and memories suspended in time.
There are many significant layers to this change, and others quite superficial. This post is about the latter.
1. I use semi-rotten vegetables in my cooking, carefully cutting around the spoiled bits and putting to good use the parts that are still firm and of their original color.
2. I use the last drops of soap, face cream, lotion, perfume and laundry detergent, whereas previously, sick of the texture or scent, I would have tossed them out when it became necessary to store the containers upside-down in order to coax out the final, lazy bits of product.
3. I have come to peace with having a maid.
4. I am prone to stare back at those staring at me.
5. I eat a variety of canned foods, on a regular basis.
6. My definition of a treat includes: cheese, real vanilla or lemon extract, cold cuts, granola, bacon, nuts, grapes, peaches, zucchini, cherry tomatoes, microwave popcorn, black beans, etc.
7. I no longer think it is strange to iron every single article of clothing that I own (rather, to have every single article of clothing that I own ironed).
8. I wear a jacket, scarf and boots in 22C weather, and still feel cold.
9. I eat Indian and Thai food on a weekly basis.
10. A trip to the hick-ridden mall in Nelspruit is a treat.
11. Having the indicators/tail lights/mirrors stolen off our car is not a motive for anger, rather just a trip by Zeca to the Mercado Estrela on our behalf.
12. The phrase, "Se faz favor," is firmly incorporated in my vocabulary.
13. I think 2pm is a normal time to have lunch.
14. The prospect of a bucket shower is not horrifying. Rather, I know the exact proportion of hot to cold water necessary for a relaxing cleanse.
15. I can speak pidgin Portuguese without thinking.
16. I have minimal brand loyalty.
17. I send all my "good" clothes to the dry cleaners, or simply don't wear them at all.
18. I am used to mold, cockroaches and rats.
19. I don't feel right traveling without a capulana.
20. I have developed a bladder of steel, and am able to go over 6 hours without peeing if necessary, a skill finely honed while doing fieldwork in rural Zambézia and Nampula.
21. My definition of a toilet too gross to use has changed significantly. Long drop? No problem.
22. I can eat a chicken so the bones are clean at the end.
23. I am willing to eat a fish head.
24. I no longer think the word "Nice" used in a Portuguese context sounds bizzare.
25. Coconuts really can be a fun night out.
26. Every time I pass a wedding party, I look for the personalized license plates on the front and back of the car carrying the bride and groom.
27. I actually like xima, as long as it has some tomato sauce.
28. I have become immune to the magnitude of donations: 25 million no longer seems like an impressive number for a 5-year project.
29. Cynicism is second-nature, in particular when it comes to humanitarian aid and NGOs.
30. I am not ashamed to ask for help when parallel parking.
31. I gladly let the guard carry my heavy suitcase up the stairs, and don't feel at all guilty.
32. I let the dishes pile up over the weekend, again absent of guilt.
33. Not having internet is no reason for a panic.
34. I can hold my own in a meeting with government officials.
35. My need to shop for clothes and shoes has reduced drastically.
36. It's not at all odd to have people from 15 different countries in my living room for a dinner party.
37. I now understand that nothing is too old, too worn, too seemingly useless to be passed on or donated. Even the most tattered pair of shoes can be of use to someone.
38. I regularly run red lights while driving and don't realize I am doing anything out of order until someone (i.e. my mother) comments.
39. I am more prone to shouting obscenities at fellow drivers.
40. I spend 10+ hours a day on the computer.
41. I drink on weekdays without a second thought.
42. I complain about the dry weather when the humidity drops below 50%.
43. I read celebrity gossip every single day. Perez Hilton, I love you!
44. I place immense value on each piece of furniture in our home.
45. I am willing to buy expensive art.
46. Business class on a flight to the US seems a necessity, though I'm more than willing to take a bus to Joburg if the ticket on LAM seems absurdly expensive.
47. I can spot a South African accent a mile away.
48. A quick way to annoy me is to refer to "Africa" as a whole, rather than recognize there are multiple and diverse individual countries on the continent.
49. I would never, ever wear my hair in braids or dreads, even if you paid me.
50. I am happy to have a complicated background and life story.
There are many significant layers to this change, and others quite superficial. This post is about the latter.
1. I use semi-rotten vegetables in my cooking, carefully cutting around the spoiled bits and putting to good use the parts that are still firm and of their original color.
2. I use the last drops of soap, face cream, lotion, perfume and laundry detergent, whereas previously, sick of the texture or scent, I would have tossed them out when it became necessary to store the containers upside-down in order to coax out the final, lazy bits of product.
3. I have come to peace with having a maid.
4. I am prone to stare back at those staring at me.
5. I eat a variety of canned foods, on a regular basis.
6. My definition of a treat includes: cheese, real vanilla or lemon extract, cold cuts, granola, bacon, nuts, grapes, peaches, zucchini, cherry tomatoes, microwave popcorn, black beans, etc.
7. I no longer think it is strange to iron every single article of clothing that I own (rather, to have every single article of clothing that I own ironed).
8. I wear a jacket, scarf and boots in 22C weather, and still feel cold.
9. I eat Indian and Thai food on a weekly basis.
10. A trip to the hick-ridden mall in Nelspruit is a treat.
11. Having the indicators/tail lights/mirrors stolen off our car is not a motive for anger, rather just a trip by Zeca to the Mercado Estrela on our behalf.
12. The phrase, "Se faz favor," is firmly incorporated in my vocabulary.
13. I think 2pm is a normal time to have lunch.
14. The prospect of a bucket shower is not horrifying. Rather, I know the exact proportion of hot to cold water necessary for a relaxing cleanse.
15. I can speak pidgin Portuguese without thinking.
16. I have minimal brand loyalty.
17. I send all my "good" clothes to the dry cleaners, or simply don't wear them at all.
18. I am used to mold, cockroaches and rats.
19. I don't feel right traveling without a capulana.
20. I have developed a bladder of steel, and am able to go over 6 hours without peeing if necessary, a skill finely honed while doing fieldwork in rural Zambézia and Nampula.
21. My definition of a toilet too gross to use has changed significantly. Long drop? No problem.
22. I can eat a chicken so the bones are clean at the end.
23. I am willing to eat a fish head.
24. I no longer think the word "Nice" used in a Portuguese context sounds bizzare.
25. Coconuts really can be a fun night out.
26. Every time I pass a wedding party, I look for the personalized license plates on the front and back of the car carrying the bride and groom.
27. I actually like xima, as long as it has some tomato sauce.
28. I have become immune to the magnitude of donations: 25 million no longer seems like an impressive number for a 5-year project.
29. Cynicism is second-nature, in particular when it comes to humanitarian aid and NGOs.
30. I am not ashamed to ask for help when parallel parking.
31. I gladly let the guard carry my heavy suitcase up the stairs, and don't feel at all guilty.
32. I let the dishes pile up over the weekend, again absent of guilt.
33. Not having internet is no reason for a panic.
34. I can hold my own in a meeting with government officials.
35. My need to shop for clothes and shoes has reduced drastically.
36. It's not at all odd to have people from 15 different countries in my living room for a dinner party.
37. I now understand that nothing is too old, too worn, too seemingly useless to be passed on or donated. Even the most tattered pair of shoes can be of use to someone.
38. I regularly run red lights while driving and don't realize I am doing anything out of order until someone (i.e. my mother) comments.
39. I am more prone to shouting obscenities at fellow drivers.
40. I spend 10+ hours a day on the computer.
41. I drink on weekdays without a second thought.
42. I complain about the dry weather when the humidity drops below 50%.
43. I read celebrity gossip every single day. Perez Hilton, I love you!
44. I place immense value on each piece of furniture in our home.
45. I am willing to buy expensive art.
46. Business class on a flight to the US seems a necessity, though I'm more than willing to take a bus to Joburg if the ticket on LAM seems absurdly expensive.
47. I can spot a South African accent a mile away.
48. A quick way to annoy me is to refer to "Africa" as a whole, rather than recognize there are multiple and diverse individual countries on the continent.
49. I would never, ever wear my hair in braids or dreads, even if you paid me.
50. I am happy to have a complicated background and life story.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Ondas
I feel like I am riding waves each day, some moments a definite rush while on top and optimistic about things to come, others an unexpected low when the swell falls out from underneath me without warning.
Most of this is linked to the drama of trying to buy a house. It's the most intense experience of "two steps forward, one step back" that I've ever been through. Except these days it feels like one step forward, five steps back. I am trying to visualize the progress, and more than anything the end result, but it is frustrating and tiring and definitely not a guaranteed outcome. I am grateful to have Rico and my mom leading the process, as I can't imagine a more competent team to deal with the hurdles we face.
I suppose we've learned that it's not enough to get preapproved, make an offer, and come to an agreement on price with the seller. In fact that's the first baby step of the process. The real trick is to actually get a mortgage, especially if you have somewhat of a non-traditional situation.
We knew all along that the initial promising events didn't guarantee the house would be ours. I guess I just didn't anticipate how difficult it would be to wait, and to deal with the apparent setbacks along the way. Still, there is hope. I shall leave it at that for now.
In other news, Rico had his residency visa interview, and it went like clockwork. Seriously, if only buying a house were that simple. ;)
Of course the process was bureaucratic and expensive, but given that we had all of our papers in order, Rico had his compulsory medical exam results in hand, and we were generally organized and prepared for the interview, I must say that the process was very smooth. We received great service from the US Consulate in Johannesburg, had the luck of being assigned nice people to review our paperwork and conduct the actual interview, and had the added blessing that Rico's visa was granted within 30 minutes of the conclusion of his interview.
In all, the process cost close to US$2,000 considering:
1) the actual fees for submitting a petition for the residency visa, and then getting said visa processed ($355 + $400);
2) the medical exam ($150 - extraordinarily cheap for a chest X-ray, vaccinations and a physical thanks to super affordable medicine in South Africa, even for those with no health insurance);
3) FedEx cost for sending original documents from Brazil and US ($200);
4) Sworn translation of all documents in Portuguese ($100); and
5) car trips to Johannesburg since they don't process residency visas in Maputo, and the closest approved doctor for the medical exam was there ($250 + $450, for fuel and accomodations each trip).
It's certainly one way they screen who can become a Resident Alien...
I found it fascinating to see who our companions were in the Immigrant Visa waiting room. One South African guy - a lawyer with a fancy watch and very nice clothes - had been waiting 2.5 years to get his visa approved. There was a couple next to us from Eritrea - apparently the man was already a US citizen residing in Denver, CO and was trying to bring his fiancee over - who spoke barely any English and looked as if their entire lives depended on the granting of the visa. Another couple - both South Africans - left the building cursing the Consular Officer after having their petition denied, presumably due to the guy's criminal record from a fight he got into with his dad outside a bar when he was 17.
One of the most interesting things to me was that they didn't take you to a private room for the interviews. You just stood at a counter and spoke through a prison-visit style telephone to the interviewer behind the glass. Everyone in the waiting room was therefore privvy to all of the details of your life story. It was heaven for me, given my terrible habit of eavesdropping and observing (my favorite context being, of course, airports).
In our interview, we were asked about how we met, what we did for a living, why we wanted to move to the US, details about our wedding, and when we plan on relocating. It was all very easy, just like answering questions at a dinner party. There was only one misstep, when I accidentally said that we met in 2008 instead of 2000. I guess it was nerves, although consciously I didn't feel at all anxious about the interview.
So we have the visa, now it would be wonderful if we could get the house...
My mom has been compulsively lighting incense for good luck the past few days. I'd appreciate any similar votes of positive energy you would be willing to cast for us, as we still have a long road ahead towards the Casa Cali.
Most of this is linked to the drama of trying to buy a house. It's the most intense experience of "two steps forward, one step back" that I've ever been through. Except these days it feels like one step forward, five steps back. I am trying to visualize the progress, and more than anything the end result, but it is frustrating and tiring and definitely not a guaranteed outcome. I am grateful to have Rico and my mom leading the process, as I can't imagine a more competent team to deal with the hurdles we face.
I suppose we've learned that it's not enough to get preapproved, make an offer, and come to an agreement on price with the seller. In fact that's the first baby step of the process. The real trick is to actually get a mortgage, especially if you have somewhat of a non-traditional situation.
We knew all along that the initial promising events didn't guarantee the house would be ours. I guess I just didn't anticipate how difficult it would be to wait, and to deal with the apparent setbacks along the way. Still, there is hope. I shall leave it at that for now.
In other news, Rico had his residency visa interview, and it went like clockwork. Seriously, if only buying a house were that simple. ;)
Of course the process was bureaucratic and expensive, but given that we had all of our papers in order, Rico had his compulsory medical exam results in hand, and we were generally organized and prepared for the interview, I must say that the process was very smooth. We received great service from the US Consulate in Johannesburg, had the luck of being assigned nice people to review our paperwork and conduct the actual interview, and had the added blessing that Rico's visa was granted within 30 minutes of the conclusion of his interview.
In all, the process cost close to US$2,000 considering:
1) the actual fees for submitting a petition for the residency visa, and then getting said visa processed ($355 + $400);
2) the medical exam ($150 - extraordinarily cheap for a chest X-ray, vaccinations and a physical thanks to super affordable medicine in South Africa, even for those with no health insurance);
3) FedEx cost for sending original documents from Brazil and US ($200);
4) Sworn translation of all documents in Portuguese ($100); and
5) car trips to Johannesburg since they don't process residency visas in Maputo, and the closest approved doctor for the medical exam was there ($250 + $450, for fuel and accomodations each trip).
It's certainly one way they screen who can become a Resident Alien...
I found it fascinating to see who our companions were in the Immigrant Visa waiting room. One South African guy - a lawyer with a fancy watch and very nice clothes - had been waiting 2.5 years to get his visa approved. There was a couple next to us from Eritrea - apparently the man was already a US citizen residing in Denver, CO and was trying to bring his fiancee over - who spoke barely any English and looked as if their entire lives depended on the granting of the visa. Another couple - both South Africans - left the building cursing the Consular Officer after having their petition denied, presumably due to the guy's criminal record from a fight he got into with his dad outside a bar when he was 17.
One of the most interesting things to me was that they didn't take you to a private room for the interviews. You just stood at a counter and spoke through a prison-visit style telephone to the interviewer behind the glass. Everyone in the waiting room was therefore privvy to all of the details of your life story. It was heaven for me, given my terrible habit of eavesdropping and observing (my favorite context being, of course, airports).
In our interview, we were asked about how we met, what we did for a living, why we wanted to move to the US, details about our wedding, and when we plan on relocating. It was all very easy, just like answering questions at a dinner party. There was only one misstep, when I accidentally said that we met in 2008 instead of 2000. I guess it was nerves, although consciously I didn't feel at all anxious about the interview.
So we have the visa, now it would be wonderful if we could get the house...
My mom has been compulsively lighting incense for good luck the past few days. I'd appreciate any similar votes of positive energy you would be willing to cast for us, as we still have a long road ahead towards the Casa Cali.
Friday, July 17, 2009
It's Ours (almost)
Two days ago, Rico and I made an offer on the house (with my mom's help as a co-signer). Yesterday, we got a very reasonable counter-offer back from the current owner.
We accepted it.
Now we just have to actually *get* a mortgage, get our downpayment cash into the proper accounts, and close the deal in 45 days. With a bit of luck, we'll be able to move into our own house when we relocate to California at the end of September.
I am a bit in shock - this is all so surreal, it almost seems like a dream - but quickly coming to terms with the fact that we will be doing some humble living going forward now that we've got a mortgage to pay off. ;)
I feel like such an adult!
We accepted it.
Now we just have to actually *get* a mortgage, get our downpayment cash into the proper accounts, and close the deal in 45 days. With a bit of luck, we'll be able to move into our own house when we relocate to California at the end of September.
I am a bit in shock - this is all so surreal, it almost seems like a dream - but quickly coming to terms with the fact that we will be doing some humble living going forward now that we've got a mortgage to pay off. ;)
I feel like such an adult!
Thursday, July 16, 2009
The Long Road to Our New Home
Friends, it's been a crazy past couple of weeks. Here's the lowdown on what's been going on in our corner of the world lately:
- Endless paperwork and bureaucracy has been the definite theme. Rico is applying for his US residency visa, and we are trying to purchase a house in California prior to our move. I believe Rico and I now have notarized, sworn translations of every official document issued to us from birth, as well as a full picture of our financial standing thanks having to cough up tax returns, account statements and employment contracts seemingly from the beginning of time.
- A word to the wise: You know that old song "If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life, never make a pretty woman your wife"? Well, here's my 2009 version. If you wanna have a straightforward, paperwork-free, easy life, never make non-resident alien your wife. Or in my case, husband. Seriously, I don't know how people who aren't compulsively organized and perfectly bilingual make it through this process. Totally worth it though. Obviously.
- Rico went for his compulsory health exam last week in Johannesburg as part of the visa application process. I am happy to report that, as evidenced by a chest X-ray, my husband doesn't suffer from TB.
- My mother-in-law is here for a visit, her first time in Africa. We picked her up at the airport in Joburg, then promptly proceeded to get lost downtown while trying to find the medical clinic. We had a GPS, and it was useless thanks to the Wiki-style maps we have for South Africa that didn't recognize our intended destination. We circled nervously and aimlessly for about an hour, with my MIL in the back seat. Apparently she later confessed to Rico that she thinks we are a great couple with a promising future because we didn't kill each other in the car.
- We went to Kruger park with my MIL, and it was fabulous. We saw a pride of 8 lions, and every other animal imaginable except for the reclusive leopard.
- Rico and I put an offer on a beautiful house yesterday, along with my mom who has helped us beyond measure in the prequalification process. Now we wait. By the end of the week, we will know if the house is to be ours. This is a very tidy way to sum up what has been weeks of high stress, all leading to the biggest decision in my and Rico's life since marriage. We are all praying this house works out, because it is an incredible opportunity and we are totally in love with it already.
- We are starting to sell our furniture and other posessions here in Maputo. It's a strange process, and a daunting one for sure, but I find it quite appealing. Although I cling to certain objects, I find it cleansing to have a big purge of posessions every few years. We will leave Moz with 2 suitcases each, 3 cats and 1 cargo box containing an antique chandelier and an old wooden trunk. That's it. Chega.
- The prospect of starting fresh in a new house is thrilling. I loved putting together this apartment, making it our home. We started with next to nothing, and used wicker furniture and slept on a mattress on the floor for nearly 2 years. Now our flat is comfortable and beautifully decorated. I know we will be starting close to zero again with the new house in California, but I am not at all regretful because the process is so satisfying, and starting humble really makes you appreciate every little improvement, every new piece of furniture or painted wall.
- Rico and I have the big visa interview on Monday. Please keep us in your thoughts.
So that's it in a nutshell. I am also currently working 3 jobs, but I won't even go into the details because more than anything, I need to get off the blog and get them done.
- Endless paperwork and bureaucracy has been the definite theme. Rico is applying for his US residency visa, and we are trying to purchase a house in California prior to our move. I believe Rico and I now have notarized, sworn translations of every official document issued to us from birth, as well as a full picture of our financial standing thanks having to cough up tax returns, account statements and employment contracts seemingly from the beginning of time.
- A word to the wise: You know that old song "If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life, never make a pretty woman your wife"? Well, here's my 2009 version. If you wanna have a straightforward, paperwork-free, easy life, never make non-resident alien your wife. Or in my case, husband. Seriously, I don't know how people who aren't compulsively organized and perfectly bilingual make it through this process. Totally worth it though. Obviously.
- Rico went for his compulsory health exam last week in Johannesburg as part of the visa application process. I am happy to report that, as evidenced by a chest X-ray, my husband doesn't suffer from TB.
- My mother-in-law is here for a visit, her first time in Africa. We picked her up at the airport in Joburg, then promptly proceeded to get lost downtown while trying to find the medical clinic. We had a GPS, and it was useless thanks to the Wiki-style maps we have for South Africa that didn't recognize our intended destination. We circled nervously and aimlessly for about an hour, with my MIL in the back seat. Apparently she later confessed to Rico that she thinks we are a great couple with a promising future because we didn't kill each other in the car.
- We went to Kruger park with my MIL, and it was fabulous. We saw a pride of 8 lions, and every other animal imaginable except for the reclusive leopard.
- Rico and I put an offer on a beautiful house yesterday, along with my mom who has helped us beyond measure in the prequalification process. Now we wait. By the end of the week, we will know if the house is to be ours. This is a very tidy way to sum up what has been weeks of high stress, all leading to the biggest decision in my and Rico's life since marriage. We are all praying this house works out, because it is an incredible opportunity and we are totally in love with it already.
- We are starting to sell our furniture and other posessions here in Maputo. It's a strange process, and a daunting one for sure, but I find it quite appealing. Although I cling to certain objects, I find it cleansing to have a big purge of posessions every few years. We will leave Moz with 2 suitcases each, 3 cats and 1 cargo box containing an antique chandelier and an old wooden trunk. That's it. Chega.
- The prospect of starting fresh in a new house is thrilling. I loved putting together this apartment, making it our home. We started with next to nothing, and used wicker furniture and slept on a mattress on the floor for nearly 2 years. Now our flat is comfortable and beautifully decorated. I know we will be starting close to zero again with the new house in California, but I am not at all regretful because the process is so satisfying, and starting humble really makes you appreciate every little improvement, every new piece of furniture or painted wall.
- Rico and I have the big visa interview on Monday. Please keep us in your thoughts.
So that's it in a nutshell. I am also currently working 3 jobs, but I won't even go into the details because more than anything, I need to get off the blog and get them done.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Thursday, July 02, 2009
First Year of Forever
Photos by Leandro Joras.
My plan was to upload multiple photos from our wedding in commemoration of our first anniversary - you know, the getting ready shots, the church shots, the party shots, the after-party shots...but my damn computer is *so* slow that I've only managed to do the first bit. You can appreciate my makeup and my shoes. Lovely, no?
Hopefully I will have a bit more bandwith (and patience) once we are back from our romantic weekend in South Africa.
Until then, here's to an incredible year as Mrs. Amaro!
My plan was to upload multiple photos from our wedding in commemoration of our first anniversary - you know, the getting ready shots, the church shots, the party shots, the after-party shots...but my damn computer is *so* slow that I've only managed to do the first bit. You can appreciate my makeup and my shoes. Lovely, no?
Hopefully I will have a bit more bandwith (and patience) once we are back from our romantic weekend in South Africa.
Until then, here's to an incredible year as Mrs. Amaro!
Monday, June 29, 2009
The Sound of Stories
Mozambicans punctuate their speech with the most wonderful assortment of exclamations I've ever heard. From grunts of dissatisfaction to falsetto squeals of delight, stories are told with great, melodic accompaniment. It's sadly quite difficult to capture these sounds in writing, though I will try.
There is a particular sound made to express disbelief or injustice, sort of an "Êêê!" that is low in pitch and delivered with a glottal stop at the beginning, a bit like what happens when one is punched in the stomach, but with a strong, vocal grunt instead of a wheezing out of air. Our guards do this one frequently, and I can hear them "Êêêê"-ing back and forth while they tell stories to pass the time.
An example of use might be:
"O patrão disse que ia me pagar o salário na semana passada, mas até agora, nada."
"Êêê! Não pagou nada? Assim não se faz..."
Another common one is a high-pitched exclamation used to show excitement. It is a bit like a glissando on a piano, starting from way up in the treble notes and running down about an octave. This expression sounds like a squeaky "Iiiih!" at the beginning, and ends on a lower note with a hint of breathiness. This excited interjection is one of Zeca's all time favorites, and sometimes he will tell a story so full of "Iiiih's" that I wonder if he might hyperventilate.
An example:
"Iiiih, Dona Ali. Tas a ver aquele gajo que era guarda da minha praça, aquele que andou a roubar espelhos? Iiiih! Parece que a polícia apanhou ele, e iiiiiih, o gajo tentou fingir que não era com ele, mas iiiiiiiiiiih, quando olharam na mochila dele tinha quatro espelhos, e aí já não tinha como negar. Iiiiiih, esses malandros, pá!"
There are many other animated expressions used by Mozambicans on a regular basis, but one has a special place in my heart (and in my vocabulary). It is an exclamation frequently used in Manica Province, and it is a two-part sound: Xiiiiiiiiii-uaaaaaaaah (or in English-pronunciation, Sheeeeeee-whaaaaah). The first bit you say with almost a falsetto voice, starting at a very high register, then come cascading down with the pitch until you are at a guttural end. It is used in a very specific context, essentally light-hearted situations about which one might say in Portuguese, "Vai dar merda."
For example, one of our old housemates was an absolute genius with computer hardware. The guy was a real IT prodigy, and would dismantle and reassemble laptops and hard drives well into the wee hours of the morning, sometimes just for fun. While he was undeniably brilliant, he also was a bit like a bumbling, absent-minded mad scientist. Half the time the computers he'd take apart would never work again, and he'd spend many hours working to solve complex networking issues only to have Ricardo walk in and discover he'd forgotten to turn on the wireless button.
My maternal grandfather was this way with vehicles; he had a garage full of cars and assorted machines that he'd tinkered with and would only function - with a bit of luck - for him.
So, this two-part exclamation would be used as follows:
"My laptop has been having problems lately, I think something is wrong with the hard drive. I gave it to André to have a look."
"Xiiiiiiii-uaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
Rico and I throw this one around all the time in our conversations, a unique reminder of our time spent in Chimoio. I'm sure people must think we are crazy, but it's become one of those expressions that perfectly captures what is sometimes inexpressable with words.
There is a particular sound made to express disbelief or injustice, sort of an "Êêê!" that is low in pitch and delivered with a glottal stop at the beginning, a bit like what happens when one is punched in the stomach, but with a strong, vocal grunt instead of a wheezing out of air. Our guards do this one frequently, and I can hear them "Êêêê"-ing back and forth while they tell stories to pass the time.
An example of use might be:
"O patrão disse que ia me pagar o salário na semana passada, mas até agora, nada."
"Êêê! Não pagou nada? Assim não se faz..."
Another common one is a high-pitched exclamation used to show excitement. It is a bit like a glissando on a piano, starting from way up in the treble notes and running down about an octave. This expression sounds like a squeaky "Iiiih!" at the beginning, and ends on a lower note with a hint of breathiness. This excited interjection is one of Zeca's all time favorites, and sometimes he will tell a story so full of "Iiiih's" that I wonder if he might hyperventilate.
An example:
"Iiiih, Dona Ali. Tas a ver aquele gajo que era guarda da minha praça, aquele que andou a roubar espelhos? Iiiih! Parece que a polícia apanhou ele, e iiiiiih, o gajo tentou fingir que não era com ele, mas iiiiiiiiiiih, quando olharam na mochila dele tinha quatro espelhos, e aí já não tinha como negar. Iiiiiih, esses malandros, pá!"
There are many other animated expressions used by Mozambicans on a regular basis, but one has a special place in my heart (and in my vocabulary). It is an exclamation frequently used in Manica Province, and it is a two-part sound: Xiiiiiiiiii-uaaaaaaaah (or in English-pronunciation, Sheeeeeee-whaaaaah). The first bit you say with almost a falsetto voice, starting at a very high register, then come cascading down with the pitch until you are at a guttural end. It is used in a very specific context, essentally light-hearted situations about which one might say in Portuguese, "Vai dar merda."
For example, one of our old housemates was an absolute genius with computer hardware. The guy was a real IT prodigy, and would dismantle and reassemble laptops and hard drives well into the wee hours of the morning, sometimes just for fun. While he was undeniably brilliant, he also was a bit like a bumbling, absent-minded mad scientist. Half the time the computers he'd take apart would never work again, and he'd spend many hours working to solve complex networking issues only to have Ricardo walk in and discover he'd forgotten to turn on the wireless button.
My maternal grandfather was this way with vehicles; he had a garage full of cars and assorted machines that he'd tinkered with and would only function - with a bit of luck - for him.
So, this two-part exclamation would be used as follows:
"My laptop has been having problems lately, I think something is wrong with the hard drive. I gave it to André to have a look."
"Xiiiiiiii-uaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
Rico and I throw this one around all the time in our conversations, a unique reminder of our time spent in Chimoio. I'm sure people must think we are crazy, but it's become one of those expressions that perfectly captures what is sometimes inexpressable with words.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Corujas
Check out the pair of owls that came to roost on my mother-in-law's verandah in Recreio, Rio de Janeiro. Beautiful, aren't they? Anybody know what kind of owls they might be?
I always feel awe when I come across an owl. Here in Mozambique (and in other parts of Africa, if I'm not mistaken), owls have a pretty negative connotation and are associated with death and sorcery.
I vividly remember coming across some huge owls while driving at night between Espungabera and Chimoio, holding my breath while they flapped their wings as if in slow motion and took flight just in the nick of time.
Just last month while doing field work in Gurue, in a gorgeous part of Zambézia province, my friend Andrew and I saw a big owl swoop down at night to catch some unseen creature in the lawn in front of the dormitory where we were staying.
I also clearly remember owls from my childhood. There were several barn owls that lived in the trees surrounding the house where I grew up in New Mexico. As part of school activity in 7th or 8th grade, we had to find and dissect owl pellets. Pretty crazy stuff. You can see from the droppings how easily these creatures can take on macabre associations.
Nonetheless, they are on my good list. They eat rodents and snakes, and just with that I'm happy to have them around.
I always feel awe when I come across an owl. Here in Mozambique (and in other parts of Africa, if I'm not mistaken), owls have a pretty negative connotation and are associated with death and sorcery.
I vividly remember coming across some huge owls while driving at night between Espungabera and Chimoio, holding my breath while they flapped their wings as if in slow motion and took flight just in the nick of time.
Just last month while doing field work in Gurue, in a gorgeous part of Zambézia province, my friend Andrew and I saw a big owl swoop down at night to catch some unseen creature in the lawn in front of the dormitory where we were staying.
I also clearly remember owls from my childhood. There were several barn owls that lived in the trees surrounding the house where I grew up in New Mexico. As part of school activity in 7th or 8th grade, we had to find and dissect owl pellets. Pretty crazy stuff. You can see from the droppings how easily these creatures can take on macabre associations.
Nonetheless, they are on my good list. They eat rodents and snakes, and just with that I'm happy to have them around.
A Bit of the Latest Jewelry Collection
I have been hard at work lately designing new fusion jewelry pieces with antique trade beads found at Ilha de Moçambique and Ghana, semi-precious stones, pearls and silver. My goal is to make massive amounts of jewelry in my last few months here in Maputo and try to sell nearly everything prior to heading back to the US.
If you are in Mozambique and interested in viewing or purchasing an Alexandra Amaro original, please email alexandra@alexandraamaro.com or leave a comment here. I do custom-designed pieces and have a small inventory on-hand to show. I will also be doing several fairs and events prior to September, so please leave a comment or send an email with your contact info if you'd like to be notified.
If you are in Mozambique and interested in viewing or purchasing an Alexandra Amaro original, please email alexandra@alexandraamaro.com or leave a comment here. I do custom-designed pieces and have a small inventory on-hand to show. I will also be doing several fairs and events prior to September, so please leave a comment or send an email with your contact info if you'd like to be notified.
If you are outside Mozambique, you can purchase pieces at my Etsy site here. New pieces will be added to the site after September.
Stay tuned for more!
Stay tuned for more!
Cluster-style earrings with antique Ilha de Moçambique trade beads, turquoise, sterling silver.
Cluster-style earrings with antique Ilha de Moçambique trade beads, pearls, sterling silver.
Sterling silver spiral-wrapped Hebron trade beads (300+ years old) found at Ilha de Moçambique, turquoise, Hill Tribes fine silver pendant
Bracelet with a mix of antique trade beads found at Ilha de Moçambique, sterling silver.
Custom-designed assymetrical necklace with a mix of antique Ilha de Moçambique trade beads and Hill Tribes fine silver.
Detail of assymetrical necklace.
Triple-strand fusion bracelets with antique Ilha de Moçambique trade beads, semi-precious stones (white with pearls, red with garnets, blue with sodalite) and silver accents.
Bracelet with a mix of antique trade beads found at Ilha de Moçambique, garnets, sterling silver.
Sterling silver spiral-wrapped antique Ilha de Moçambique trade beads, pearls, Hill Tribes fine silver textured drop.
Skunk beads (originally made in Venice, found in Ilha de Moçambique), Swarovski pearls, sterling silver.
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Sterling silver spiral-wrapped antique Ilha de Moçambique trade beads, Swarovski crystals, chrysocolla lance-shaped drops.
Mix of antique trade beads from Mozambique Island (made to imitate porcelian), sterling silver wire links, howlite carved rose.
Necklace with mix of blackwood (pau preto) discs from Nampula Province, soapstone rings from Manica Province, resin beads and sterling silver wire work.
Necklace set with mix of Ilha de Moçambique antique trade beads, freshwater pearls, sterling silver.
Detail of Ilha de Moçambique white and pearl mix necklace.Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Crepuscule
Where has the light gone? Suddenly it seems like frail rays of light even at four in the afternoon are a bit of a miracle; the stronger hours of morning sun appreciated exceptionally.
I feel the rhythm I settle into during the winter – the tropical, mild, delicious type as far as winters are concerned – and wonder how people manage to leave their houses in Northern climates, how I ever existed as a functional person during the many cold periods spent in New Mexico.
Granted, a part of this reclusiveness might be attributed to the special sort of blues that come with too many years lived abroad in the same 'developing' place. There is an enclosing of one’s social radius, the somewhat sad crush of similarity when discussing with a new resident or with family back ‘home’ the basics of life where you live – it is no longer the exciting discussion it once was as new details were appreciated, different customs celebrated and experiences eagerly shared – rather you are jaded, too tired to move beyond the routine stories except on really marking occasions.
It is easy to slip into a shell at this phase. You likely have a couple of core friends whose contracts don't end in the subsequent six months, enough to satisfy minimum emotional needs. The city or town is as familiar as the back of a hand, and the appeal of most destinations has tarnished. It’s more appealing to stay home, with good company – or none at all – than to go out and find live music, have a beer just for the sake of it and in the process stay out until one in the morning, or go to another of an endless series of dinners at upscale restaurants that involve semi-agreeable chit-chat with at least six other parties you’ve likely never previously met. It becomes irresistibly tempting to stay in and drink a bottle of wine or three, watch trash on TV, compulsively check email, and eat Indian takeaway.
I know. I’ve been in this phase for about the last year and a half.
But I’m at least aware of it, and therefore on occasion make colossal effort to get into a social phase (only to usually enjoy being out and wonder how on Earth I could feel so noninclined otherwise). I confess to having been a bit of a social butterfly lately, meeting several new people from the blog, enjoying the occasional girl’s night, and even a proper party or two. It’s been nice, but surely part of the reason I’ve been so tired.
Then again, maybe it’s simply the time of year. Mozambique is particularly affected by the changing length of a day because it is quite far South, doesn’t observe daylight savings, and is also located at the far edge of a time zone. All factors combined mean dusk at 5:07pm (official, as of the solstice yesterday) and, in December, sunrise at a merciless 4:50am! Think about what that does to your day to have the sun burning bright prior to five in the morning…in my experience, unexpectedly, it’s been quite nice. Although I’m far from being a morning person, I am an earlier riser and in a better mood during the Mozambican summer.
It will be strange to be a ‘new’ person in the Bay Area. I look forward to being on the fresh, enthusiastic side of conversations about cities and culture again. I hope for, with time, wise eyes with which to look back upon this experience in Southern Africa. Maybe I will be able to write about the way I wish I’d been able to do while actually on the ground. I take solace in the fact that Barbara Kingsolver apparently wrote “The Poisonwood Bible” several decades after her early experiences in the Congo. When the words are meant to come, they will.
I feel the rhythm I settle into during the winter – the tropical, mild, delicious type as far as winters are concerned – and wonder how people manage to leave their houses in Northern climates, how I ever existed as a functional person during the many cold periods spent in New Mexico.
Granted, a part of this reclusiveness might be attributed to the special sort of blues that come with too many years lived abroad in the same 'developing' place. There is an enclosing of one’s social radius, the somewhat sad crush of similarity when discussing with a new resident or with family back ‘home’ the basics of life where you live – it is no longer the exciting discussion it once was as new details were appreciated, different customs celebrated and experiences eagerly shared – rather you are jaded, too tired to move beyond the routine stories except on really marking occasions.
It is easy to slip into a shell at this phase. You likely have a couple of core friends whose contracts don't end in the subsequent six months, enough to satisfy minimum emotional needs. The city or town is as familiar as the back of a hand, and the appeal of most destinations has tarnished. It’s more appealing to stay home, with good company – or none at all – than to go out and find live music, have a beer just for the sake of it and in the process stay out until one in the morning, or go to another of an endless series of dinners at upscale restaurants that involve semi-agreeable chit-chat with at least six other parties you’ve likely never previously met. It becomes irresistibly tempting to stay in and drink a bottle of wine or three, watch trash on TV, compulsively check email, and eat Indian takeaway.
I know. I’ve been in this phase for about the last year and a half.
But I’m at least aware of it, and therefore on occasion make colossal effort to get into a social phase (only to usually enjoy being out and wonder how on Earth I could feel so noninclined otherwise). I confess to having been a bit of a social butterfly lately, meeting several new people from the blog, enjoying the occasional girl’s night, and even a proper party or two. It’s been nice, but surely part of the reason I’ve been so tired.
Then again, maybe it’s simply the time of year. Mozambique is particularly affected by the changing length of a day because it is quite far South, doesn’t observe daylight savings, and is also located at the far edge of a time zone. All factors combined mean dusk at 5:07pm (official, as of the solstice yesterday) and, in December, sunrise at a merciless 4:50am! Think about what that does to your day to have the sun burning bright prior to five in the morning…in my experience, unexpectedly, it’s been quite nice. Although I’m far from being a morning person, I am an earlier riser and in a better mood during the Mozambican summer.
It will be strange to be a ‘new’ person in the Bay Area. I look forward to being on the fresh, enthusiastic side of conversations about cities and culture again. I hope for, with time, wise eyes with which to look back upon this experience in Southern Africa. Maybe I will be able to write about the way I wish I’d been able to do while actually on the ground. I take solace in the fact that Barbara Kingsolver apparently wrote “The Poisonwood Bible” several decades after her early experiences in the Congo. When the words are meant to come, they will.
Roses Trump Paper
Our 1-year wedding anniversary is coming up on July 5th (side note: where the hell did the first half of 2009 go?), and to celebrate Rico and I have decided to take a weekend trip to the Summerfields River Lodge & Rose Spa near Hazyview in Mpumalanga, South Africa. Sounds divine, no?
If a weekend of therapeutic baths, massages, leisurely walks through rose and macadamia plantations, delicious food and wine, and the stellar company of my husband doesn't make me feel rested and content, I honestly don't know what will.
We're foregoing the paper-themed first anniversary gift and instead going with a bit of luxury. Although I'm sure we could find some handmade paper with rose petals at some point during our trip and bring it full circle. I'm thinking Casterbridge in White River would be a good candidate.
If a weekend of therapeutic baths, massages, leisurely walks through rose and macadamia plantations, delicious food and wine, and the stellar company of my husband doesn't make me feel rested and content, I honestly don't know what will.
We're foregoing the paper-themed first anniversary gift and instead going with a bit of luxury. Although I'm sure we could find some handmade paper with rose petals at some point during our trip and bring it full circle. I'm thinking Casterbridge in White River would be a good candidate.
Monday, June 22, 2009
I Might Try Counting Sheep
Times like this I wonder how people cope with exhaustion - like new mothers who continue to work full-time jobs, or college students working nights to pay for an intense semester of classes, or all of the crazy workaholic development people I've run across in the last few years.
You see, friends, I am unforgivingly tired. I sleep and sleep every chance I get, yet it doesn't seem to help. I fear that the constant fatigue I experienced in the months prior to moving to Mozambique is already starting. I remember about 6 weeks back in Austin where I was physically incapable of a night's sleep, there was so much on my mind and on my to-do list.
Things aren't even close to that breaking point yet here in Maputo, but still, I feel overworked and under-something...under-socialized? under-rested? under-alcohol-ed?
I've been meaning to write all of these fabulous travel accounts, first from my week of field work in Zambézia and Nampula interviewing maize millers, then from my quick vacation escape to Ilha de Moçambique last weekend. However, I have not been able to get down to it and write a decent travelogue.
At times like this, I have faith that these slumps are part of a larger cycle, that soon I will be feeling spunky and rejuvenated, and with the writing fireworks setting off brilliant bursts of inspiration.
Until then, I take solace in the fact that I've been going strong with the jewelry making and with the preparations for applying to school in the Spring. I suppose, when you think about it, I am actually holding down the equivalent of at least a couple full-time jobs at the moment...so I'll cut myself a bit of slack.
It's been a productive day of creating necklaces, cooking spicy meals, catching up on emails, and brainstorming about the structure of a business plan. I'm going to treat myself now with a glass of red wine and one of my favorite programs - "Air Crash Investigaton". Horrifying, I know, but I actually really love understanding how a series of small, random, seemingly unrelated events can lead to total disaster and systems failure - and am in awe of the investigative process that leads to the answers. I also think that somehow, perhaps a bit perversely, watching a program about one of my greatest fears makes it easier to face. It also reminds me not to take anything for granted, and that's always a good note on which to end a day.
Boa noite, here's hoping it's a restful one.
You see, friends, I am unforgivingly tired. I sleep and sleep every chance I get, yet it doesn't seem to help. I fear that the constant fatigue I experienced in the months prior to moving to Mozambique is already starting. I remember about 6 weeks back in Austin where I was physically incapable of a night's sleep, there was so much on my mind and on my to-do list.
Things aren't even close to that breaking point yet here in Maputo, but still, I feel overworked and under-something...under-socialized? under-rested? under-alcohol-ed?
I've been meaning to write all of these fabulous travel accounts, first from my week of field work in Zambézia and Nampula interviewing maize millers, then from my quick vacation escape to Ilha de Moçambique last weekend. However, I have not been able to get down to it and write a decent travelogue.
At times like this, I have faith that these slumps are part of a larger cycle, that soon I will be feeling spunky and rejuvenated, and with the writing fireworks setting off brilliant bursts of inspiration.
Until then, I take solace in the fact that I've been going strong with the jewelry making and with the preparations for applying to school in the Spring. I suppose, when you think about it, I am actually holding down the equivalent of at least a couple full-time jobs at the moment...so I'll cut myself a bit of slack.
It's been a productive day of creating necklaces, cooking spicy meals, catching up on emails, and brainstorming about the structure of a business plan. I'm going to treat myself now with a glass of red wine and one of my favorite programs - "Air Crash Investigaton". Horrifying, I know, but I actually really love understanding how a series of small, random, seemingly unrelated events can lead to total disaster and systems failure - and am in awe of the investigative process that leads to the answers. I also think that somehow, perhaps a bit perversely, watching a program about one of my greatest fears makes it easier to face. It also reminds me not to take anything for granted, and that's always a good note on which to end a day.
Boa noite, here's hoping it's a restful one.
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