Apartment living and Neighbors

PORRA PAI!  It's not an uncommon thing to hear in my apartment. No, my 3 year old has not mastered advanced Brazilian cursing, but my neighbor has.  It literally means cum Dad.  Brazilians use is like we use fuck or shit.  Consider your vocabulary expanded.

Her voice ranges from dying cat to non-ADD banshee hopped up on Ritalin.  I don't know whether I should put her out of her misery or pop her a Valium.  Either way, it's not pretty! Wonder why she hasn't found herself a fellow...

And her poor Father.  Then again, there was one argument when we heard her cry out for help. I really doubt there are any victims in that family. Don't worry about her though, if I remember correctly the help was followed shortly there after by more cursing and yelling.

How nice would it be to be able to live in a place for a month before you bought or rented it!  On the other hand, I doubt anyone would actually make it into a building. Either the apartment would be a money pit or the neighbors crazy. Quite possibly, it'd be both.  Mine turned out to be a slight money pit but all was handled in a short amount of time. Fingers crossed. Now that I've said that, my kitchen is going to come tumbling down into the downstairs apartment.

We do have the one crazy, though I'm sure we're considered crazy enough on our own. Thankfully we don't have anyone living below us. They would think that we're breeding mini-hippos with the way our boys run around. And damn straight!  I bought this apartment for the long hallway and bathtub. The hallway is perfect for the boys to run in when we can't get outside. The bathtub is, well, a bathtub, a definite luxury here in Rio de Janeiro.

And I haven't even mentioned when Daniel and I argue.  Not that it's often and no, there's no light workout caused by throwing or running away.  When we argue it's in the morning.  We're tired and cranky and both of us get easily annoyed in the am. God's cruel joke to parents by making children early risers.  Can't imagine my neighbors enjoy our bickering at 7. At least they get a impromptu English lesson out of the whole thing.

All and all, close quarters apartment living in Rio de Janeiro always gives you a story or two to tell.  I'm just thankful I'm not the doorman.  The stories he has are not ones I would like to experience first hand!