Brazilians and Sex

A Facebook friend shared a very humorous link talking about "The Top 50 Mistakes Women Make While Having Sex." Being that I blog about living in Brazil, I'm going to Brazilianize some of these thank you very much.

#1 was a personal favorite: Assume he can get a raging hard on when it suits you. 


I don't know about you but I find that the Brazilian man usually has a hard on, even when it doesn't suit you. These guys have horny down like a bad crack habit. Although I do agree that you can not expect it to just jump up to salute you, unless you are Juliana Paes that is.

#13 has a good message: Allowing your Crotch to resemble the Amazon.

I get where they are going with the Amazon reference although Brazilian women are known for their highly kept up nether regions. Seriously, you let that stuff grow in a bit and your waxing lady tells you off!

#14 is awesome: Assuming that sex means a relationship. They continued to say: "The only relationship you have is that he now has stuck his hoo-hoo dilly in your cha-cha."

I think both sides understand this down here. As I have said before, there is a decent amount of inter-sexing, at least in Rio de Janeiro. I believe there is an understanding that sex does not translate into meeting the very large extended family. At the same time, I have heard that Carioca women wait longer to have sex with Carioca men than they do with foreigners. Things that make you go hmmmmm.

#19 is also one that we have down in Rio: Refusing to be Spontaneous ie. sex outside of the bedroom.

Yeah, people are practically having sex on the streets. Yes, slight exaggeration but when making out like you are dying does happen at 9am on the subway, you feel that way. I think spontaneous sex is happening in Rio as you read this blog post. What was that? I think someone just got pregnant...

#20 I have to mention just because of personal preference: Do not diss the quickie!

People, quickies are the fast food that can supply an orgasm and not make you obese. Go for it! I couldn't see any Brazilian man turning down the quickie. Let me rephrase that, I couldn't see any Brazilian man turn down just about any form of sex, no offense. Also, I think the women here are more open to it. There seems to be an understanding that sex is healthy and good.

#45 may touch home for Brazilian men: "Anything that involves inserting anything into his body that he has not specifically approved beforehand."

I find that one particularly amusing because I have a very close friend who insists that all men LOVE the shocker (look it up on your own if you have to) and that you do it without asking. Of course they'll say no but they say yes when you do it. Sounds like date rape to me. I can't see such a machismo population liking things slid up their toosh but then again you never know.

Anyway, the entire article is hilarious and you should take a look at it. Ladies, in my opinion the points are very true and some of them fall under "learn to live by."

Check it out: The Top 50 Mistakes Women Make While Having Sex

The Bacon Theory

I've had the bacon conversation with a couple of different people over the last couple of months. What's the bacon conversation?  Actually, it's more of a bacon theory. 

The theory goes as such: If a person in a family is bringing home the mouth feeding portion of the money each month (the bacon) you can not give them crap about working.  No, not "working" but that annoying stuff like answering business calls at 10pm when you are trying to get them to go "downtown." 

This theory is interesting and I find that Brazilians do not give their partners much crap at all about working a lot. Contrary to popular belief abroad, Brazilians put work horses to shame! Working until 830 or 9pm really isn't that big of a deal here, and I have a theory as to why. Shocker, huh.

There are numerous factors in this. First off, it's really not uncommon at all to have 2 income families down here. You are totally not going to bitch at your husband for answering that call if you were on the phone in the first place. 

There's also the Nanny/Maid situation. People have them. They are a buffer between overworking spouses and stay at home moms/dads.  Hell, they are the stand-in parent for the 2 income households.  And in the case of the Nanny/Maid, they can't complain to the bacon bringer. Hell, they are paid to wait around and cook the bacon that's brought.  

And that fact that there is someone in the middle, who's job is to pick up the slack, makes a huge difference.  The biggest complain of this stay at home Mom is the lack of buffering. I can get pretty chafed sometimes and it's not pretty! 

Of course, that's only with my minis as I do have a maid twice a week to help me around the house.  It's a good thing for Mr. Rant. He sure as hell would get a lot more crap for his socks being littered around the entire apartment.  He denies it but it's either him or we have a serious sock-mold situation growing in this place. 

The point being, it can be hard to be a supportive partner for a busy spouse. It can be upsetting to see the kiddos little faces pressed on the window as they look for Daddy on the street because they know he's going to be home before bedtime.  

And when they complain, I open sacks of bacon and throw pieces at the ungrateful little bastards. Actually no, that would be cruel. Good bacon is far too expensive in Brazil to be wasting it like that. 

But we have had the talk that everything costs money and the reason Daddy works so hard is to help pay for things like food, soccer practice, and cable tv. Priorities. And they get it. The chatter box even offered to not have snacks for a week if Daddy could come home early. 

Then when I put them to bed after a day that had, I swear, 321 hours in it, I go out to the living room. I sit down and I have the same conversation with myself using wine, internet connection, and staying home with my babies as my examples. 

Freaking Bacon, always expanding our minds. 

Doctor me Happy

So I have fallen into the Brazilian way of the doctor. Oh how the Brazilians I know love to go see them!

I mean look at me, I broke my baby toe. Given it hurt like a bitch slap to the foot, but still, it's just my baby toe! But no, like a good girl I went to the orthopedic and had it x-rayed and taped. The doctor told me I had to come back and get it taped professionally.  How often? Once a week for 4 to 6 weeks!

I find that a little surprising. I mean, it's been a while since I've used the American medical system but my old doctor would never have given me such care! Hell, I hardly got that much attention when I had a kidney infection.

Still, while it's good to be taken care of, it can also go overboard.  And you know what, I have. My poor boys are so comfortable with their pediatrician that they run into to say hello when we arrive at the office.  The routine of getting checked is so known that the doc might as well be cuddling with them on my couch, that's how big of a deal it is to them.

Stuffy nose for 2 weeks, go to the doctor. Sore muscle, go to the doctor. Cough cough, x-ray and go to the doctor.  Stub your toe because you are a damn ass, go to the doctor.

I'm starting to think that we're going a bit overboard down here.

That being said, my boys are lucky. Their pediatrician is mellow enough that he almost never orders any tests at all and goes it the old school way. Wait and see. Hell, I usually wait at least 3 days, if not 5, with a high fever before even taking them in.  FYI, in our pediatrician's office, it's only high after 102. Even then, that's not that high.

Compare that to my doctor. I went in with one funny level on a blood test and an irregular cycle and I had to do 2 ultrasounds and numerous blood tests. Numerous.  I'm glad she's thorough but sometimes I wonder if it's a bit too much. One of these days I may get cancer. Sure, it could happen. But at the rate she's going, it's going to be because of x-rays and ultrasounds!

I know I could choose another doctor for myself but my irrational maternal fear of dying and leaving my kids behind nips that in the butt. Where's my anal insurance coverage making sure I don't get the care I could potentially need without knowing it? Oh wait, I'm in Brazil. My insurance company actually takes care of me.

Then again, this is all coming from a Mother and wife who's dealt with fever seizures, stitches, pneumonia, ear infections, skin infections, foreskin/penis infections, staph infections, and a spontaneous pneumothorax. I guess anyone would fall into the "cautious" zone after that.

Which way do you go with your medical care? And does your insurance let you be as cautious as you would like? 

The Heart of the Rio de Janeiro Sambodromo

I've done Carnaval in Rio de Janeiro many times.  The street parties, drinking before noon, and pressed up against other sweaty bodies. All you would expect in a Catholic country.

But this was my first year at the Sambodromo. My first year seeing the big parade put on by the samba schools. And I know what you are all waiting for. You are expecting my impressions to be full of the champagne and chic food in the camarote (box).

That isn't what stuck at all.  You arrive to a place that is a container of energy. Thank goodness it's open air or I think any commoner, such as myself, would implode upon entry.  People are there to cheer, see, and enjoy.

The epitome of it all was one woman. She was in the seats below our box.  Of course, you could not tell where this woman was actually supposed to sit because she did not sit at all. She was samba-ing up and down the entire area. Not only that, she was entering into the other little seating area and encouraging everyone else to dance.  And they did, down to the security personnel.

Excuse the blur as I was trying to catch the ever moving woman in white

She was not a traditional perky-tooshed samba dancer, nor was she some exotic picture of a Brazilian woman that we see overseas. She was a real Brazilian woman, with a real Brazilian ass, shaking it up and down wherever it would take her.

I loved her! For me, she was the heart of what this entire holiday is about. It is a countrywide celebration in a way that only Brazilians can do it.  And in the face of the fires 3 of the schools experienced, the heart of Carnaval was really shown.

Yes, they put on a good show down here. The women are beautiful, the music intoxicating, and the colors seizure inducing.  Then you look deeper.

This is the heart of Brazil. Not Carnaval, but the joy. Brazilians can take a lot of what life throws at them and turn it into a barbecue, street party, and world-renowned parade.

They will smile, shake their ass, and drink a beer.  Who's life isn't hard sometimes? Why not enjoy the things you can. Carnaval is just putting that frame of mind under a microscope for the entire world to see.

And that energy carried me through a night of samba dancing in a boot. Of course, the champagne did help. 

Brazilians love themselves some UFOs

Brazilians LOVE UFOs. They believe in them, they look for them, and they find them. Hell, wouldn't you visit Brazil is you were a alien.

My husband is a believer of aliens. He totally digs that stuff. So I was not surprised to find him watching this video this morning.

I then took it upon myself to inform him it was a fake. He is not so sure. You have got to love a believer.

And Brazil is really not a stranger to Alien sightings. Apparently, we humans are not the only ones attracted to beaches and tiny bathing suits.

Check out this list of Brazilian sitings: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/UFO_sightings_in_Brazil

Here's an account of a particularly interesting sighting: http://ufos.about.com/od/bestufocasefiles/p/1996varginha.htm

So what do you think, is this video a fake?

My Husband is Starving

Once upon a time, this little wife did not make a full on Brazilian lunch. I know, shame shame on me. Don't worry, I already put myself in time out.

You see, I had my pregnant self and a toddler who loved PB&Js.  I didn't think anyone would find out so I allowed him to have one for lunch.  I think Brazilian Social Services would come and take them away if they ever found out. Heaven forbid it wasn't served with a side of rice and beans.

To my horror, Mr Rant came home for lunch.  It was totally unannounced. Thankfully though, he took the sandwich in stride.  But I didn't get off that easily.

What caught him off-guard was my lack of prepared food in the fridge. There was nothing ready for him to eat! What do you mean you can't spontaneously pull together a 3 piece lunch?!

And before you say he's spoiled, let me correct you. He is not only spoiled, he's Brazilian.  I swear, he would keel over and die out of shock if he ever showed up at his Mother's and she couldn't just fix him a plate. Hell, the day his Mother can't randomly pull a carne asada out of the fridge, have rice already made (just in case), and beans a bubblin' on the stove is the day I will have a heart attack.

It's just the culture. Any good Mother would have something available in case any child should even think about food.  Even if it's not her making it, she's paid someone to make sure it's there.  And lunch is the holiest of occasions for food consumption.

The fact that there was nothing to heat up was just unheard of.  Personally, I was stoked that I could finally bust out the PB&J and fend for myself later.  But it just comes down to habit.

In Brazil, when you eat lunch you EAT LUNCH. This is your big meal. Pack it in baby.  Some offer a dinner in the evening, especially when there are kids. A lot of people just lanche, aka sandwiches.  Lanche is a wonderful thing where people run to the bakery for fresh french bread. Add in cold cuts, a salad, some other finger foods, and you have yourself a lanche. We must not forget the coffee chaser.

So that was an adjustment for me. I love me a big breakfast and a substantial dinner. I'm all over that. The big lunch needed some growing into. Ironically, when it did, my breakfast and dinner shrank.

In addition, I've never again allowed a fully empty fridge.  I now have 3 Brazilian men, 1 big and 2 halfies. They all expect food in the afternoon. Something filling and warm.  What can I do? I've been out voted. Of course that does mean I can transfer my occasional laziness to the evening. And let's be honest, evenings are the best time to be lazy!

Lazy and then bed go together as well as good old PB&J. 

Life in a Shoe Box: Purge vs Hoard

I have an issue with stuff. It's taken over my home. There are two reasons why this has happened. 1. My husband is a closet hoarder.  2. My apartment does not not have enough closets to hide it all.  


My number 2 is questionable because the 2 build-in closets and one walk-in mean that I have more closet space than 125 % of Cariocas.  So essentially I can't bitch. 


Except number1 and number 2 do not necessarily work well together. And no, I have no responsibility in this.  Zero, zip, Nada.  Ok, maybe a little bit. But number one is not far off.  You see, I was reading Danielle's post about packing and her move.  She made a comment that I totally related to: 


"How did we accumulate so much stuff? Where is it going to go?"


When we were moving my husband out of his childhood apartment and the amount those cabinets barfed up was astounding.  It was Crapapalooza and it was all being boxed and brought to my house.  


I'm not saying my dear Mr. Rant collects crap. He just has a difficult time throwing certain things away.  Maybe old tax statements make it easier to sleep at night. Quite possibly, the 3,000 pairs of shoes remind him of all the paths he has walked in life. And, perhaps, his multitude of 80s style photo albums bring his almost middle aged heart peace, as he has proof he has lived. 


I get it and it's awesome. Of course there's the whole thing that I have about 8 working cabinets, 2 kids, and no where to put anything.  It's a pain. I'm used to 2 stories of glorious storage space. Enough space where you don't  even know what you have stored.


And that gets to to my stage right now. I want to purge baby.  I don't understand why I want storage in the first place. Why in the hell do I need to stuff things in closest? If they are there, you aren't using them in the first place. I want to throw things away.


The Brazilians are not pleased with this attitude. Brazilians do not throw away.  They save, take care of, and give to other members of the family. They manage to store things until they are needed by someone they know. They find a way. Honestly, the storage force is strong in this breed of people.  The Container Store should come down here and ask the Brazilian people to give them tips. 


Then my husband, the shining star he is, came up with a fabulous idea.  We will give our old crib mattresses (yes we still have them, do you see what I mean now) and such to the families who lost their things in the flooding. We will take the things we feel clutter our home and let them fill the home of someone else.  It's a very romantic concept and a perfect idea.


Of course, I do wonder.  Are they in the market for a junk drawer? I mean, a home is not complete without one and I'm looking to give mine away!

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.  

Tiger Mother vs Monkey Mother

Tiger Mother is currently the talk of the town.  People can not get enough of her hardcore nature. It's kind of like a car accident, you can't look away. Only, it would have to be a highly organized and educated car accident. Violins must be involved!

It got me thinking about myself as a Mother and how my culture has inspired me. My children are obese, watch a lot of TV, and can't tell you where the United States of America is.  Whoa Rachel, low blow. I know. I just couldn't help myself.

Anyway, you all know this blog is a bit Rio/Brazil centric. What better than to compare Tiger Mother to Middle Class Brazilian Mothers?

For the sake of this post, I will be referring to Brazilian Mothers as Monkey Mothers.

So the Monkey Mother is just as playful as she sounds. She doesn't have what Tiger Mother would consider control over her children, but her children do laugh.  There's a lot of dancing around and fun to be had.  Monkey Mother's children throw fits but not too often.  That may be because the children usually get what they want in the first place.  Don't misunderstand me now, I'm not saying the Monkey Mother is a push over, although she is a little bit.

Monkeys are clever by nature, and Monkey Mother knows how to happily co-exist with her children. Sure, she may be drinking her cold beer with a baby biting her ankle at 10pm but to each their own.  You see, the Monkey Mother uses a little bit more finesse than the whole I'm the boss thing.  Personally, I think the monkeys live in a bit more of a democracy than a communist nation.

Of course, a democracy with pre-school aged monkeys gets as loud and messy as you would imagine.  But the kids go to school and take classes. Many of these little monkeys dance, play instruments, and speak a foreign language.  They may have never heard of a time out and no is almost as foreign as the Chinese Language itself, but that's just a cultural thing. It works like organized chaos and never ceases to be fascinating.

I find myself somewhere in the middle of this crazy jungle we call Motherhood.  But if I had to choose one of the two, I do believe I'd have to stick with my opposable thumb friend, the monkey.  I mean, if you've ever seen me groom, I kind of look like one. 

What is Cheating?

What is cheating to you?  Watching the Golden Globes, I started thinking.  Take Eva Longoria.  Rumor is that her husband had partaken in hundreds of suggestive texts with another woman.  Apparently, nothing more happened.

So would that do it for you?  Is texting cheating?  The line is a difficult one to define and yet very easy to cross these days.  Things like Twitter, Facebook, and such, give us plenty of avenues to dip toes into different waters.  Innocent emails can easily turn questionable and bump people into an interesting situation, to say the least.

I talked about my stance a bit in my post about how 70% of Brazilian men supposedly cheat (see post here.)  I'm kind of a don't-tell-me-and-live-with-the-guilt-or-I'll-have-to-leave-you kind of girl.  But it's hard to judge until in the situation. And this kind of thing, with the texting, chatting, and messengering, has to have a different approach. 

I personally believe in time outs, taking away of privileges such as tv and internet, and/or guilt tripping. Underlying rule, it must stop.  Wow, sounds like I'm a Mother of a toddler...

That being said, I haven't really been in this situation before. No questionable texting or anything.  I have gotten cranky on Mr. Rant's ass about Facebook friendships with unknown women.  It was nothing, so the story goes. Damn Mafia game.  I do buy it though.

I also believe it's a fine line and better to mind the gap in the first place, as they say on the metro.  Why risk falling in when there's so much safe ground to stand on?

But everyone is different, so I ask, where do you stand?  What is your deal breaker?  Texting? Carrier pigeons?  Morse code?

What would make you bitch slap your significant other and walk out that door?

What is Bluntness, really...

I noticed, last night, a little difference in bluntness between Brazilians and Americans.

Now, I know I've been quoted as saying that Brazilians are passive aggressive when it comes to interactions with others. You can ask a Brazilian friend to come to your party and they will ALWAYS say yes, or some derivative of yes.  That does not mean, in any sense of the word, that they will actually show up. 

"Come to my party on Friday!" Brazilian answer: "Of course! That'll be great! Let's totally do that!  I do have to check with my husband but of course we will come. We may have a dinner at my parent's house but we could swing by afterward.  But sure! We'll be there!"  And then they never show up...

And it works with everything.  Brazilians hate the word no, so much so that it was actually suggested to me that I don't use the word no when disciplining my children.  I should rephrase everything because the word no would squash their little psyches. 

Yeah, I'm American. That's not going to fly. No comes out of me before I even consider the question. Once that no is stated, I have space in my little brain to consider the other options.  And if I am going to say something, it's going to flow out as blunt and disorganized as my thought process. 

I can't help it.  We Americans can be verbal vomiters.  We say what we think. If you invite us to a party and we don't want to go, we politely say 'No, I can't. I've had a hard week and need to rest.'  or 'Maybe we could get together next weekend.'  Don't get me wrong, we aren't rude about it. But we're also not leaving people waiting. That's because Americans will wait, will get pissed, and will call you out on it.  But then that's a whole different blog post.

But there is one area in which there is a switch.  A total trade in bluntness and directness between Americans and Brazilians.  It happens when discussing personal issues.  Take this situation for example:

My husband and I were at a street party with a group of his friends, my Mother-in-Law, and a couple of her friends. We were sitting around the table having beers. This was soon after my move to Brazil and I understood little to nothing of what was going on. 

That's when my husband's friend turned and asked me in his broken, yet very understandable English "So how are you feeling? Mr. Rant says that you have a bladder infection" 

Call me insecure but I was embarrassed at the time. If only I had half the indifference I do now, I would have replied "I'm doing well. My doctor suggested to stop having so much sex with my husband and to urinate afterward when we do."

Of course, the shock of the fact that they were all discussing my bladder infection over beers, right there at a street party, was a bit much for me. 

I just couldn't see that happening at home. 

And the Brazilian personal information bombs can happen at any time!  I have heard "We never have sex anymore." "I have this itch." "Do you think this is weird..." "It's just ______and he/she is so embarrassed by it." "Do you guys like anal?" "I think I'm going to leave him" etc etc

And this is not with close personal friends. Just people I know.  

Personal information overload. And personally, this does not help me at all. I already suffer from sharing Too Much Information.  Now, I'm just a walking billboard sharing anything and everything going on in my life.  Hell, I even have a blog.

And I love that.  I love that it's ok to actually tell people the nitty gritty. Heaven forbid you say you don't want to go to beers but you can bust out that you have to get your hemorrhoids cut out.  I bet who ever you tell will even visit you at the hospital. 

There's just something almost romantic about it.  Still playing hard to get and yet sharing at the same time. 

It's like the matrix of conversation. 

Americans Dance and Brazilians Lay

I noticed something while out at a New York City bar last night, American men really lack in hooking up efficiency.

Take this one guy from last night. He was first hovering around this one attractive lady like a helicopter. Hello good sir, no one is going to call you in for a landing. It does not work that way.

He finally settled into talking to her.  At times I couldn't tell if he was hitting on her, was her personal space holder, or interviewing her for the school newspaper.

That's when it hit me. He had spent about 2 hours, at that point, courting her.  It seemed as if he was trying to converse her pants off. I don't know about other peoples' pants, but mine do not have voice control.

Daniel was also intrigued by this man and his skills, or lack there of. As a Brazilian he would have done it differently.

Oh how the Carioca man does it differently.  A Carioca man would barely give his girlfriend this much attention at a bar, much less a mere potential hook up.  A Rio de Janeiro man takes 5 minutes. First they catch their eye. Once that's done, they move in like a tiger heading in for the kill. They saunter up to the woman. After about 1.5 minutes of easy conversation, the remaining 3.5 minutes are spent making out.

Yes, making out. Right there, standing up, in between all their friends.  They have both, at this point, already decided if they will be sleeping together.  It could be at the end of the night, or they could leave right then.  No ritual dance necessary.

The point being, in the time this man attempted to woo the woman with his personality, the Carioca would have made out with 3 women and slept with a 4th.

The Brazilian may not be efficient when it comes to many things, but they definitely have it down when it comes down to the mating dating game.

Pee in the Shower and Save a Tree

I heard about this a while ago but never got around to blogging about it.

A Brazilian environmental group, SOS Mata Atlantica, is encouraging Brazilians to pee in the shower to save water. Hell, invite your husband in and you can kill two birds with one stone.  Save a liter of water and be a little kinky at the same time.

Apparently, "if every household avoids a flush a day, it can save up to 4,380 liters (1,157 gallons) of water annually." As written in this article by the Huffington Post.

Narrated by kids, the commercial circulating Brazil is calling for all people to pee pee in the shower. Men, women, children, Brazilians, non Brazilians, sports stars, etc etc.  It's in Portuguese but is still entertaining, whether you understand or not.  The moral of the story "Pee in the shower!  Save the Atlantic rainforest!"

If the environment isn't enough of a reason for you to relieve yourself where you clean yourself, check out this site for some entertaining points on showering and urination (and also where I found the wonderful intro photo!) Do You Pee in the Shower?

So that leaves me to ask, do you pee in the shower?  Would you, could you?  

Coffee Wishes and Caviar Dreams

I didn't love Brazilian coffee from the first sip. Hey, in my defense, it was a bit alarming when the full chest hair popped in right after. I was very Miami Vice cool.

But, not only did I get used to it, I started to like it.  Hell, I can even make a mean cup of it.  Oh yeah, Mother-in-law stamped and approved.

Now that I'm home, I'm left unsatisfied each morning. It's like my coffee has erectile disfunction and, while it meets some basic needs, lacks the tools for the grand finale.

Like any good woman, I'm left attempting to make this relationship work.  Because I love coffee. Because living in Brazil has already ruined my relationship with Starbucks, yet strangely that improved my relationship with my wallet.

And yes, I still drink it like an American.  Big cup with a little milk and sugar.  I am American so, the more the merrier. Yes that phrase also works with food and drink.  But when I do this with American coffee, it's like drinking stale water mixed with slightly soured milk. Sure, that'll wake a girl up, but not in a good way.

I know what you are thinking, why didn't you bring your own Brazilian coffee. I did. I swear I did!  But once I arrive, I am enthusiastically patted down in search of the ground Brazilian goodness.  I wouldn't put it past some of my family to shake out my clothes in hopes of finding some lost droppings.

So I am trying to make the best out of the situation.  My Father was a bit alarmed with the amount of coffee he saw me use. And I was being good knowing he was watching.  As I told him, it's about quality, not quantity.   If that means that I have to use half the bag of coffee he bought, that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.

And while the coffee here may never make me spontaneously grow body hair, but it can be made so it doesn't make me want to cry.  That will be my goal for the day.  

Hot and Sweaty! Who? Me?

It's 4pm and I smell like a wet Saint Bernard. It's not pretty. I'm sweating like a heavy weight boxer in the middle of a championship. My hair is up and I'm wearing my lightest summer dress. Hell, I even ditched the bra but it didn't make a difference. 

I stumbled into the metro station this afternoon, dripping sweat and my body covered in patchwork red heat splotches. It was as if I was a reject blanket from the Amish sewing circle. 

And there she was, of course, The Brazilian.  Her hair was down and perfect, just like a Pantene ProV Conditioner ad. She had on an adorable, professional, and yet still totally hot outfit.  She was sweating, obviously, but it was different. Her sweat looked like she was spritzed with body oil before a magazine shoot. I looked like I was urinated on by a bum standing on a bridge. 

Not fair!  I know my body is not made for this heat, I step outside and my feet start running North, but I should be adapting by now.  I have the right attire, I bath at least 3 times daily like any good Carioca, and I reapply deodorant regularly.  Yet, my body still insists on overheating anytime the temp reaches 31 (87 F) or above. 

The best is when this kind of woman turns and says "It's so hot isn't it! So muggy!"  I always answer with the typical "I know!" or " It is. Hopefully it'll rain soon" or "Tell me about it. I wish I was at the beach".

What I really want to ask is: Does that Brazilian ass convert into a portable air conditioner come summer?

Yes, I'm writing about Penises

I fell over laughing when I saw this ad for XXL condoms online.  Seriously, genius!

But it also got me thinking, which country has the biggest penis? If you ask any Brazilian man, they will say they are the biggest and/or have the most beautiful little men. That or they'll just offer to show you.

By the way, I do not recommend actually asking a Brazilian man unless they are securely tied down and you are out of the splash zone.  Making eye contact for over a half a second is practically an invitation for sex. If you say the word penis you may get attacked or their head will explode.

Sadly, (Mr. Rant I'm only saying that for blogging purposes), I don't have a lot of experience in Brazilian penis measuring.  Then again, this girl was so overjoyed that she married this one right away. I'm talking about the man, not the penis... ok, maybe both.

Now my single friends have had their fair share and, from what their gossip tells me, Brazilians rank right up there with the big boys.  I know what you are thinking, maybe they were exaggerating.  I'm sorry but here are four things you should know about women: 1. We are pretty honest when it comes to what our mate is packing, at least to our close girlfriends. 2. We are always honest about what a hook up is packing. 3. We have told all of our friends about both types.  4. If your wife/girlfriends say she has never talked about your package and or skills, she is lying.  By our second drink out with our friends, it's ALL we talk about.

So I decided to do some research and I found this chart. It was particularly difficult for me to read it at first. I'm American so I have never learned about other countries' flags. Hey, at least I know they have them!  Thank goodness for the source list.

I do have a problem with some of the numbers though. I'd like to first say, I am not racist. This is purely un-educated babble talking.

Anyway, I have an issue with the Lebanese measurement of 6.6 inches, .4 inches bigger than Brazilians and the same size as Ghana's 6.7.  Really? What measuring tape were you using?

As for the Congo's 7.1 inches, I expected more... Overall, the averages seem a bit small. I guess you could say I've been a lucky girl.

And, finally, can we send out a virtual hug to South Korea please.  Korea, don't worry, it's not the size of the boat. It's the motion of the ocean. I swear!

How realistic do you think this chart is? 

Coffee realizations

My Mother-in-Law came over today.  I thought she seemed emotionally tired.  As always, I asked her if she would like me to make some coffee.

Note, if your Mother-in-Law is Brazilian and drinks coffee, always ask if she would like some the moment she arrives at your place.  Coffee is almost as important as the kiss on the cheek.  If she says, "no, it's ok. I don't want to cause you any trouble." The correct answer is, "It is no trouble at all." Yes, there is a right answer and no, it really isn't a big deal to make a pot of coffee.

If she should say "Only if you are making yourself some or only if you are going to have some", there are numerous answers but it all ends up with you making coffee.  I usually opt to just drink some. There's about a tablespoon in that tiny cup and it saves me from using up my allotted Portuguese words for the day.

I have found that after a certain number of Portuguese words, my brain stops producing them. You'd think after 5 years my brain would stop going on strike but it persists. I think it's as stubborn as I am. Go figure.

Anyway, today I asked her if she'd like some coffee.  She looked at me, sighed, and said "yes, yes I would."

I didn't know what to do with myself at first.  A direct answer from someone down here?!  There was a little fizz and a bit of smoke came out of my ears.

After all these years, I thought I would be so happy without the typical hoop jumping, but instead it saddened me.  First off, I had my jumping shoes on and ready to go. Secondly, I missed the social norms, the prearranged opening script.  A huge red flag started waving over her head, warning warning something amiss.

And honestly, there was. It sucked to see someone I love hurt and so emotionally worn. 

Of course, coffee was served and emotions started to flow, venting was done, and everyone was a smidgen lighter.  Not only is coffee a great Brazilian crop and a potential social landmine for foreigners, it's an opportunity to sit and share.

Coffee anyone?

Insert Foot Here

In the post Free Hug, I got all touchy feely about the Brazilian way of caring.  What can I say, it seems I've adapted after 4 years down here.

But there is a little bit of a backlash to that adaptation.  So let me ask you, what do you get when you take an ex-pat and evolve her into the Brazilian definition of caring? 

Answer: A very inappropriate ex-Pat indeed! 

The problem as an ex-Pat American is that I'm blunt.  Combine that with the Brazilian openness and you got yourself some foot in the mouth conversations. 

For example, it's not uncommon for your Mother-in-law to have mentioned to your husband's best friend that you have a bladder infection and then for him to ask you how that infection is going when you all meet up for beers.  Totally socially acceptable. 

Not acceptable is when I asked my husband's cousin why his wife hadn't come to the family lunch.  He was elusive, which is not normal down here and that should have been my hint to shut up. Of course I missed it and persisted, to which he announced their separation.  Ouch!

Of course there were no hard feelings.  Got to love the forgive and forget attitude down here! Of course, I think our friends and family really all remember and just think, 'oh that Rachel, putting her foot in her mouth again.'

You know, as long as my awkwardness is openly accepted and we all have a laugh.

Internet Girl in an Internet World

We are an internet civilization now.  There is no denying it.  I read a funny post on Ka entre nos that made me think... and laugh.  Oh, and practice my Portuguese!  It's like tricking your brain into learning science by reading the Magic School Bus books.

Brazilians are crack head addicted to the internet, so much so that they took over Orkut before Americans even knew what it was.  And I bet if you check out nationalities on Twitter, Brazilians would have a pretty damn good percentage.  I fit right in down here!

But that's not what I've come here to talk about. I came, inspired by Ká Entre nós, to talk about the facebook photo tagger. You know that person that is posting horrible pictures of you on facebook, the ones you have to untag and make you question your friendship with said person.  Yeah, well that would be me.  I am the notorious photo poster out of my friends here in Rio. It's a problem I have acknowledged and refuse to do anything about!  I love posting photos.

Well, a friend of mine got even...

I was a little drunk, Mommy night out, and I was mocking my friend for buying the Bump it. Of course, I let her try it out on my hair and posed for a photo. I should of known.   It was posted on facebook the next day. 

So, there you go friends who question my sanity after I post and tag unflattering photos of you in bikinis.  It's not that I'm a snatch, it's that I have no personal shame and thus don't get it. I hope this makes it a little better.

And got to love the random tags of blast in the past pics:

My husband and I in Curitiba pre-babies. I guess I really can't use kids as an excuse for letting myself go.  Apparently I was already doing it in my early 20s. 

Since, I do have a little bit of shame, I'm feeling just a tingle of it in my toes.  Here's a picture to show what I really look like:

Happy Friday internet people! Now that I got a much needed hit of my internet, I'm off to enjoy the Rio de Janeiro sun!

Free Hug

I've talked a decent amount about Brazilian families and their part in marriages, your roles within them, and how they work.

Well, I've had a different view of the Brazilian family these past couple of days.  It's a family I've always known but have never had the need to experience.

It's your extended Brazilian family.  Aka. Everyone you interact with on a daily basis.

So we are the gossip of the neighborhood because our youngest is in the hospital. Everyone knows via talk from everyone else.  But it's not just gossip, it's real concern.

The first morning after my little one was hospitalized, I got a call from his school.  They wanted to know how they could help. The school psychologist called and she said "We are not doctors. I know we can't help that way but we want to say that we are here if you need anything. Anything at all.  And we want to know how he is doing? blah blah our conversation blah Please keep us updated!"  They have checked in daily.


I have spoken with our building manager and our doorman.  My Mother-in-law has spoken with the doorman at our kid's school, the teachers, the coordinator, and the head of the pre-school area. 

My pediatrician has called me daily, if not twice daily, to ask me how I think he's doing and what the doctors told me.  He then tells me everything they told him as he called them first so that he could clarify anything I didn't understand.

Mr. Rant's Mother, Brother, and Brother's wife have picked my oldest up from school the past couple of days, taking him out, and treating him so this time would be one of excess as opposed to lacking.

I've had visits from friends and family.  And hospital even lets my son is visit, even though he's under 5.

And my Mother-in-law has been at my beck and call regardless of the fact that she has been dealing with everything going on with her mother.  Her mother, who we now fear may be brain-dead.  And with all that, she is picking up my son, playing his silly 4 year old games, and asking me how she can help me.

On top of it all, my husband is only working part time because he is taking care of our oldest when he's not in school.  This is the husband who comes home from a long stressful meeting and deals with a phone call from a crying wife who lays into him basically because her nerves are fried.  Listening to you kid, who is on a drip, scream in pain every time he pees will do that to you.  There was nothing I could do. Thankfully, after about 12 hrs, it passed and he's feeling much better.

Anyway, the husband who took that bad treatment and understood where it came from.  He came to alleviate me from the hospital with a smile on his face and a hug for me.  No need to discuss, no need for an apology.  And I gave him more shit for being late. Yeah, I suck ass.  And he had all the patience and understanding in the world.  He told me he couldn't have handled the first two nights there but now, because it's easier, he could give me a break.  Wow! A man who can handle the world and then admits when he can't.  The balance of the world, my world.  I must give good head or something.


The thing is, this culture can be judgmental, overly intrusive, and sometimes a bit in your face.  But when you need some compassion, real compassion, and a get out of jail free card when things are tough, they give it to you before you even ask.  It's as if they have the important parts of humanity down.

The world would be a much better place if they would just learn from the Brazilians.