Scottish Dancing in Rio de Janeiro?

Who knew there was a Scottish Society in Rio de Janeiro?! Well, apparently some people as they came in kilts.

I had a very pleasant surprise last night when I took my family to the Youth Scottish Dance at the British School. It was like I was transported to a different country! Strangely, minus the kilts and funny accents, I felt very much at home!

There we were in the heart of Botafogo and yet surrounded by English, common habits, and Shepard's pie. Parents were mingling, kids running around freely, and there was the occasional dance. I have to say that Chatterbox and I did pretty damn well at the dancing considering the fact that we have absolutely no Scot blood. 

The biggest culture shock at the event was the lack of over-parenting. Kids were running around on their own and were expected to come find Mom or Dad should they need something. There was little hovering, lots of laughing, and no drama. I absolutely loved it! The best and most traumatizing part was when the dance floor cleared of Scots and a Justin Beiber song was put on. It immediately filled up again with children busting a move. As much as Beiber horrifies me, I did enjoy watching my boys and all the other kids twirl around like drunk adults. Cute. 

All and all it was quite refreshing to take a step out of Rio de Janeiro without actually getting on a plane. I must say, last night may have converted me. The only problem? I have to work on my accent! It's just unacceptable!

This was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules… 

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Flamengo, the Kool-aid of Brazilian Soccer

You have to love Brazilian's enthusiasm when it comes to soccer. I mean they really get into it. So it's not surprising that you know when there's a game on regardless of looking at a tv. These guys yell when the ref scratches his ass, don't even make me try to explain the reaction when a team misses (or gets) a goal.

Of course you can amplify all this by about 245% when Flamengo is playing. Practically everyone, foreigners and Brazilians alike, are drinking the red and black Kool-aid.

I myself married into a Botafogo family, which has nothing to do with anything. I just like to point it out when I'm being an individualist like the other thousands of Botafogo followers.

Point is, I don't enjoy it when Mr. Rant is screaming for his team but that's one thing. Hearing the entire neighborhood screaming is another. Add to it that it's almost midnight... That does not make a happy Ranter!

Oh well, it's the way of the culture and you have got to love people with passion. I suppose you could say that soccer this society's opium... and beer, and meat, and oxygen, and maybe even sex. 

Jeitinho Strikes Again

This picture is my own fabulous photography. Mad skills, I know.

So we went to Plebeu in Botafogo for lunch today. AMAZING food! Anyway, I totally forgot that they don't have highchairs.  Why, I'm not sure.  So we were at a loss for a moment. How were we going to enjoy the holiness of their divine Picanha with a wiggly toddler on our laps.

That's when genius hit!  On our way upstairs, we passed the stacks of plastic chairs they use outside. Since the place wasn't full enough to stick people on the sidewalk, the chairs were just hanging out in a corner.

When approached about the chair stacking/highchair making plan, the waiter was not impressed. It had so been done before.  Still, we feel pretty damn smart.

So 5 plastic chairs later and the tiny toddler had his own place at the table.

Gold Star for creativity! 

Soccer, it's in Their Blood

My husband is a true Carioca and, therefore, has his soccer team.  There are 4 club teams in Rio de Janeiro: Botafogo, Vasco, Flamengo, and Fluminense.  My husband is Botafogo and so am I. Yes, since I did not have a team, I married into one and my children were born into one. If they should want to switch teams later in life, they may also have to switch Fathers.

So imagine my husband's surprise when I announced that I was enrolling our 4 yr old son into soccer class. I had hardly gotten the last syllable of the word 'class' out of my mouth when he declared that it MUST be with the Botafogo club.

That's all well and good. I totally get where he's coming from. There's a much larger chance of our son switching teams if he is playing for and friends with people from another team.  I hear you Mr. Rant and it is duly noted.

But it's not going to happen.  It's just not practical. When I mentioned that, I was huffed. Oh yes, my husband huffed and puffed and attempted to blow down my logic.  So wasn't going to happen.  But I'm a fair player and I informed him that if he'd like to be late to work twice a week so he could load up our son in the car and drive him to practice, go for it.  I, on the other hand, was going to pick a team in walking distance from my place.

Walking distance, I'm all about it these days. I blame city life and good weather.

Anyway, he was somewhat accepting over the idea of our son practicing at the Fluminense club. It's around the corner from our place and we are members, only because it means a pool on hot days.  That and Fluminense is not a threat. No offense Flu supporters.

But something happened on the way to making that happen. I was invited by a friend to have my son try out beach soccer, also near our place.  Well, that just sounds like a hell of a lot more fun than regular soccer, plus my little one would actually be able to play around on the beach while we watched.  Score!

Imagine my husband's surprise when I informed him that I had found a team my son likes and it's, deep breath, sponsored by Flamengo!  For those of you who don't know, Flamengo is to the other Rio teams as the Isrealis are to the Palestinians.  Sorry honey, we left the Gaza strip for soccer practice.  So wrong, I know.

And it's not just my husband! I know my pediatrician's team, the school teacher's team, and basically anyone else in this country that I've spoken to for longer than a minute and a half.

Soccer is a way of life here. Even if you don't actively watch, I'd say 99% have a team they at least say they support.

As for my husband and the beach soccer team, he came and watched the other day.  He saw how happy our boy was out there.  It got the thumbs up.  Because, let's be honest, if there's one thing that makes a Brazilian Dad prouder than his soccer team, it's his kid playing soccer.  

And one more Botafoguense is born

 The dreams of my Carioca husband have come true today. Our quasi 4 year old is sitting on the couch actively watching the Botafogo soccer game with Daddy and Vovo.  The key word is actively. 

My husband has been teaching this boy to love Botafogo since we found out a little egg had moved into the side of my uterus.  He would sing, much to my enjoyment, the Botafogo hymn to my ever growing belly. When Luka wouldn´t settle down to sleep in the belly at night, the song would always calm his kicking.  This has worked throughout his young life. 

But it´s one thing to know the team song and to be able to say that you cheer for Botafogo, and it´s another to sit and talk smack to the tv during the game with Dad. 

I have to say, it´s adorable.  I was 100% against having an obsessed kid when I was pregnant.  You´ve all seen the crying 7 year olds at the stadium when their teams lost. I couldn´t stand the idea of that happening. And to be frank, while I love Botafogo, it seems to happen a fair amount of time with them.  There´s only so much a girl can do and, obviously, my husband won.

Oh well, it is cuter than hell to have him sitting on Daddy´s lab yelling "Falta!" (fault), "Que isso!" (What´s up with that!), "Pega Botafogo, Pega!" (get it Botafogo! Get it!), and let´s not forget "Porra" (literally means cum but is better translated into a strong Damn).  Momma was not happy with that last one and everyone had a little chat with me about language use in front of the tiny ones. 

So it´s official, we now have 2 obsessed Botafoguenses in the house and one supporter. Let´s see if the little one jumps onto the Botafogo wagon as well. 

He's just a little Soccer pawn

Being in a relationship is hard enough, but being in a relationship in Rio de Janeiro when you are cheering for opposing teams, is even harder. 

No, I did not jump the Botafogo ship. I think that would be grounds for divorce in my relationship.  I'm talking about a little situation I noticed at my kids' school. 

There's this sweetheart in my oldest's class that always sports Flamengo shirts.  I took it for granted that his parents are Flamengistas. Hell, his birthday was even Flamengo themed. 

So imagine my surprise today when this little guy comes in wearing head to toe Botafogo gear.  Hmmmmm.  Also interesting information, his parents are recently separated.  I'm guessing one of the two never pushed their team. 

That seems common.  One person in a personal relationship with competing teams has to bow out and take the high road.  Considering Flamengistas don't know where the high road is, it's obvious the Botafoguense would have to. 

Yes, I'm aware that was a low blow and Hello, been married to the guy for almost 7 years now. It's going to sink in. 

The little gossip bird told me that the separation was very amicable.  I really doubt it is under the surface if one parent is throwing the kid Flamengo themed party one day and the next day the other is sending them to school in a Botafogo uniform.  Just saying.  Unless someone has multiple personalities who aren't speaking to each other, no one in the country of Brazil would be that crazy.  And we crazy down here!

Botafogo, Botafogo I hate you, you stink

I give private conversational English classes twice a week.  I heard clanks and bitches from the playroom during my class. My kids were in bed. That could only mean Botafogo is losing. Botafogo is my husband's soccer team.  His priorities go like this: Botafogo (although he'll argue against it), the kids and I, and everything else.

I don't have a problem with it. Soccer is his thing. He's Brazilian, Carioca even, so it's not all that surprising.  I remember when we met abroad and he so casually mentioned that he missed watching his team play.  Later we moved to Seattle and met another Brazilian couple. I mentioned to the wife that I was thinking about ordering the Brazilian soccer league for him so that he could watch at home. That would make him so happy.

She told me not to do it by any means. I thought she was potentially just a bitchy wife.  You know the type. She told me that I'd never see him and that he'd not only watch his team play, but all of them under the excuse that he's homesick and it makes him feel better.

Now that we live here in Rio, I see that she was not lying!  A Carioca's team to a Carioca is like heroin to a heroin addict. Oh, I'm not exaggerating.  Sometimes the trip is good and sometimes the trip is bad. You can never really know until you're on the trip. You have the utmost faith in your team (drug dealer) but they can let you down.  Waaaaayyyy down.

The score is 3 x 2... not Botafogo.  Another point for going out is avoiding a cranky husband. There have been some changes to the plan. I won't be joining my foreigner Mommy friends. The wine bar is a bit too far to walk at night and my Brazilian friends are right down the street. Plus I never get to see my Brazilian friends anymore, they don't kids. They have a life away from parks and nap time.  I think I'll hurry myself out for a beer before my baby wakes up for a 3rd time.  Maybe a screaming 1 yr old will calm a Daddy with a team that lost. Hmmmmm, doubtful but at least I know both of them will survive. 

I do think that obsessions with sport teams should be listed in the vows. For better or worse, richer or poorer, losing or not...

One small step for Man, One giant step for Botafogo

Today is a big day for Botafogo fans in my family. My 3 year old, Luka, is not only going to his first game but has the honor of walking the team out onto the field.  It's a tradition here for kid fans, from babies to pre-teens, to walk the players out at the beginning of the game.  To say that his father is proud is like saying I like oxygen.

Luka is excited even if he doesn't quite understand what is going to happen. He knows he got a complete Botafogo uniform with the coolest socks he's ever seen. I've had to wash it 3 times this week because he wants to wear it every day.  He also knows that Daddy can't take him up to the field but that he, his cousin Frederico, and other kids get to walk alone with the real Botafogo players. 

So I cut the umbilical cord a little bit. I'm nervous. I've been to games and they are crazy. Brazilians breath soccer, especially when it's their local team, even more so than the national Brazilian team.  It's loud, there's screaming, people are cursing, basically madness.  At first I was afraid Luka would be scared, then I snapped out of it.  Screaming, yelling, madness, and chaos... that sounds like a 3 yr old's heaven.  And to top it off, there will be junk food.

He's growing up. It's only a matter of time until he asks to go to all the games Daddy goes to and ignores what I say while the game is on at home.  My little man is growing up and he's growing up a Botafoguense.

If you'd like more info about Botafogo check out
 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Botafogo_de_Futebol_e_Regatas

Believe it or not, the peeing kid is one of their mascots.