Once Upon a Couch... (with pictures)

Keep in mind that I'm around 5'10"

I have been ranting about my sofa drama now for ages, or so it seems. Yesterday the drama peaked and ended, finally!

It all started with my "priority" delivery only arriving at 8pm.  I hate to imagine when they would have arrive if I wasn't supposedly priority!  Anyway, this was a problem since the building does not allow deliveries after 5pm. Of course we live in Brazil and there is always a jeitinho or two lying around, or so I hoped.

When the doorman phoned saying that a maintenance man was going escort one of the delivery men up, I knew I was in a bit of trouble. I would need to be pathetic and persuasive all at the same time. I decided to go with my true ally in situations like this, my Gringa status.

For some reason it is very easy to convince Brazilians that you are totally confused as to how things work. I don't know if I should be offended by this fact, but it does come in handy sometimes. I busted out such a show that I should be nominated for an Emmy, or at least an MTV spaceman.

When the annoyed Maintenance guy got there, I was first "surprised" that there was a time limit when it comes to deliveries. Since I'm a foreigner, I had no idea these kinds of rules even existed! That and I had spoken with the delivery people throughout the day (so I said) and the poor guys had been stuck in traffic. Damn holidays and everyone on vacation. It is madness out there (an always acceptable excuse in a big city).

I then went for the pity. I told him that I understand that rules are rules but if the couch was not delivered at that moment there was no way I'd get it this year. I told him that I have guest arriving and I plan to sleep on the couch during their visit. I claimed desperation, which was true, and asked if he could ask the building manager if I could pay some sort of fine or something. I begged for him to see if there was something, ANYTHING, we could do to make this happen.

After they went back downstairs, and the judges met for a final evaluation of the situation, jeitinho won. The building manager was so stressed about the no water situation, the building didn't have any yesterday, that the doormen/maintenance men decided that my couch could slip by unnoticed.

I'm sure when they made that decision they never imagined my sofa would get caught in the stairwell. Hell, the delivery men even took the stairwell doors off, another situation I doubt they imagined happening at that time of night.

So there we were, all looking at the stuck couch, when my Brilliant friend came to the rescue. She convinced them to take it all apart. I don't know if she gave some sort of pep talk or what, but they did just that. Fabric was removed from the bottom, staples taken out, and a HUGE mess made at the end of the hall.

Taking it apart in the stairwell

Come 930pm, I was starting to get worried. The delivery men were seemingly enjoying the quasi-demolition aspect of the job but would they remember where everything went? Would it even go back together seeing that this specific couch apparently doesn't come apart in the first place?

Bye bye fabric

Then around 10pm my front door opened. Did you know that my couch is made of plywood? Well, I do now as that was what they started bringing in. Pieces of wood, some fabric, and a big ass wood staple gun.

I will say, these men were damn impressive! They came into my living room and took all the random pieces I couldn't even imagine would make a couch and made it happen. I watched as they took over my living room, flipping pieces over and drilling/stapling the crap out of them.

Somewhere around 1130pm, it was looking like a couch. And right before midnight I signed the delivery papers and they were on their way.

It was a marathon but in the end it worked. Thank goodness for jeitinho!! 

My Favorite Portuguese Saying

My favorite saying in Portuguese is "Já era." It literally translates to "was already" but it feels more like "already done" or "that boat has sailed" or even "too late and get over it."

You can use it for many situations! My personal favorite is when Mr. Rant is saying that we need to hurry or we're going to be late. That always deserves a "Já era" in my house, usually because of Mr. Rant himself. Who knew it could take a man so long to move from a couch, down a 5 meter hallway, and back again with clothes on?

The magic of this phrase is that it works at any moment where one's desire is not going to happen. Of course it should be noted that "já era" does not have a negative connotation, not necessarily anyway. Per most Brazilian phrases, there's a lightness to it as if it's consumed a few chopps and is now swinging in a hammock. No harm meant, it's just stating a fact.

And now it seems that I've passed my favoritism for this phrase on to Chatterbox who busted it out during a game of cards with Vovó. She was so delighted to hear him use such a "Carioca" saying that I didn't have the heart to inform her that it was actually the Gringa Daughter-in-law that bestowed it upon him.

Ironic to say the least!

The Foreigner in Disguise

Vendors are overcharging me and I'm really starting to get offended. You see, I live here. I speak your freaking confusing language.  I know the game. Do not try to play me!

It is not helping that I'm with my Super Gringa Mother. She is adorable with her white skin, blonde hair, and super duper blue eyes. You just want to pinch her cheeks and then grab her butt, she's so darn cute.

But there's a price to this cuteness.

It first started at the Hippie Fair in Ipanema. I know the Hippie Fair is quickly becoming a tourist trap these days. It's sad to see it get to this point, not that it ever was the place to get a particularly fair price on anything.  But this incidence was insulting.

Mom and I were looking at a dress she thought was cute when a guy came up and mumbled "R$95."  I looked at him and asked "for what?" I was honestly confused. He stated "for that" and nodded towards the dress.

I just looked at him. I'm sorry, I've yet to see a Hippie Fair dress actually worth anything near that, thank you very much.  I smiled and told him "No thank you." FYI, this entire transaction, or lack there of, happened in Portuguese.

Then he did the most insulting thing, he called me cheap! He called me cheap and knew I would understand!

That's when I busted out a kick to his head!  No, not really. I'm a pacifist and too uncoordinated so I walked away.

You see, my husband taught me early on not to get into arguments on the street, especially with men. The argumentative American did not like this advice but I am in a different country. Sadly, it stuck with me, even in situations where I could totally call the guy an ass and have it be within my right.  But there was no point. This ass had made up his mind about me. I was some stupid, rich Gringa. Bummer he's wrong about the rich part...

The next incident happen right in my neighborhood.  My 2 yr old asked for popcorn so I got some from a vendor next to the metro station.  No biggie. As I went to pay I had a momentary laps in memory and asked "R$1 right?" In Laranjeiras, that's how much a small bag of popcorn costs. At least it did 7 weeks ago before my trip. She hesitated and then said R$2.

You know, I expect this kind of treatment at the Hippie Fair but not in my neighborhood.  I looked at her, in front of her two little friends, and asked "Is this that price for Gringas or has the price for everyone gone up?" Her friends laughed in her face. She held back a smile and said "Everyone of course."

What could I do? I'm a pain in the ass but I wasn't about to rip the popcorn out of my 2 yr olds mouth over R$1.

But this does make a girl ask, what is happening to my city?!  I really used to feel that Brazilians were equal opportunity opportunists. The overcharged everyone, not just the foreigners. That was, of course, unless you were at a Gringa ripoff point like the shops near the trolley in Santa Teresa.

But Largo do Machado! Do we no longer have our messed up little standards?! I fear for the times before the Olympics. I'm going to have to work on my accents and declare that I'm from Florianopolis or something.

That's it, this Gringa is going undercover! Oh the insanity.