Looking at all that chocolate, first, I am shocked at the tinsel and the inflated price in the name of religion. A simple treat becomes an extravagance beyond the pocket of normality. Then I remember that for some time after WW2 in Britain were were subject to sweet rations. So as a child among four siblings our sweetie share was always strictly apportioned. This habit almost 60 years later is difficult to ignore; and I find myself savoring each tiny square. Once I have reconciled these ugly and forbidding thoughts to the delight. I can indulge myself like the rest at Easter time.
Trifecta: Week Seventy
This Trifecta weekly prompt is
LUCKY (adjective)
- having good luck
- happening by chance : fortuitous
- resulting or producing good (favourable)
In 33 words I will say …
Apparently my daughter is lucky, being born on the 8/8/88, in the year of the Dragon. However any good fortune that comes her way is the result of thoughtful hard work.
Weekly Photo Challenge … Future
This holiday in Brazil is the climax of a year marked with joys, hopes and fears documented ‘religiously’ and daily on my blog
When I came to Brazil last year I was only posting to my blog weekly. So when I returned home I had a wealth of photographs and diary notes for the next few months and then I began to post daily. That, with a Creative Writing Evening Class to improve my writing skills; my year spanned hopefully ahead.
This year I have used images and text daily for a fresh and spontaneous new look holiday blog!!
Although has proved successful, it means that I do not have any material for later use.
Here in the Real Gabinete Portugues de Leitura, the royal reading room, a library dedicated to Portugal and Portuguese literature. It is one of the most beautiful buildings in Rio . It was built in 1887 and has a magnificent ornate facade in the style of 15th century Portuguese architecture. The interior is lit by a red, blue and white stained glass skylight and contains 350,000 leather bound volumes. Among them is the 1572 edition of Os Lusiades, the Portuguese national epic poem by Camoes based on Vasco da Gama’s voyage of exploration. Many of the other texts relate to the independence years, when the new library encouraged the spread knowledge among the young.
I am a librarian in a familiar environment although the language is strange to me. It is in the home of my daughter and her dreams.
Which leaves me thinking here in this darkened place, the books in the precious surroundings. Yet it is though the window I should look.
Away from the empty nest.
Where are my dreams, my hopes, my future? … only an empty book.
Last week I learned that …
Monday, I learned that with economic growth and prosperity the weak and malnourished land on the compost heap. From my experience in UK it is the always the middle classes who make the most moise who get the fine and sustainable resources
Meanwhile those at the bottom of the pile with little more than a thread of life; struggle and drop out of the economic garden.
I noticed this on Saturday when going to a local flea market at Praça XV,a favourite haunt of my daughter when searching for useful home requirements. I have spoken about this previously this market underneath the motorway possible the site for the weekly market for generations. Providing a space for would be ultrapreneurs to make a small income from a minimal output. A section of life serving a community, some well below the the poverty level.
So the bottom end of the under-street market as it follows the shade of the overpass begins with the garbage sellers with a few bits salvaged from bins, skips and the road side, spread on a bin liner that is serves as a container for his precious load.
As the path meanders so the traders have tables for their goods, still little more than rubbish but more pleasingly arranged. Nonetheless not yet top-notch in the realms of a flea market. Until we turn the corner where the tables; still only clumsy trestles have covers; crumple free and some with a significant flair. Their wares express the place of Market Trader and his world … the book, pencil, fine glass, and jewel collectors … while not yet antiques, here is where you might find a gem or in keeping with the garden theme the hybrid rose!
However back to the beginning of my story and the less attractive part of the so called growth in the economy. A policeman stands and just beyond sit a shabby mass with their bags of ‘goods’ discarded.
The policeman tell us that these vagabonds who incidentally do not pay for the spot on the so called ‘state property’ cannot display they wares or even come into the economic garden,
Silent Sunday ….
Saturday has come already!
So a week of our stay in Rio has gone by. It has shaped quite differently from our holiday last year; which is perfectly fine.
The weather has been seasonably cooler than last year and wet; at times the rain has been torrential. This has caused untold devastation in Petropolis not far Rio. For me the only inconvenience has been the technically problems caused such as a lengthy power cut, unstable WiFi and internet connection. This I am reliably informed is normal and part of the life living on the ‘hill’
Also, last year my son-in-law newly graduated was not yet employed so was able to spend much time with us. My daughter on the other hand was having to work to ensure a regular income until he found employment. Which incidentally, he did during our stay.
So this year they are both working. Although my daughter has taken some annual leave, she is working part time and returned to further her education so her time has become precious. So my husband and I are left to our our devices for at least for part of the day. Ths has proved to be a pleasant interlude. We have enjoyed walks to and from the beach, providing we keep the familiar route.
The community on the hill is big, and a warren of tiny streets and paths and not so dangerous as other favelas. But life is precarious and not for a tourist, no matter how careful she is not to abuse or disrespect. I wonder if I would enjoy or understand why a person would wander my streets back in UK gawping into my back yard or making patronising remarks about my ‘oh so lovely environment’. Or, indeed turning up their nose at the less attractive things they see!
However I did wander out for a while with my camera and tried not to look too much like a nosy parker!
Trifextra: Week Sixty
For this weekend’s Trifextra Challenge, we were given three words and asked to add another 33 to them to make a complete 36-word response.
The three words are:
remember
rain
rebellion
‘The day we remember the men lost in the rebellion; the angels and the clouds mustered. As the rain gently fell it mingled with our tears. Delivered from the cruelty of the dictator, thankfully we smiled’
Friday’s Snapshot … from who knows where?
As I am not ‘in the library’ for a while my Friday Library Snapshot will be suspended until I return. Instead today I bring you an image or two from the Instituto Moreiro Salles; which is one of Rio’s most beautiful private cultural centres. Located in the former home of the Salles family the owners of one of Brazil’s most important banks; Unibanco and a major collector Brazilian art.
Since the centre opened in 1999 it has hosted significant exhibitions of the 19th and 20th century painting, sculpture and photography.
The exhibition we saw was Lugar nuhum (placelessness) which shows the relationship between photography and painting in the contemporary setting though the works of Brazilian artists such as Ana Prata, Celina Yamauchi and Lima Kim. They all come from different backgrounds and points of view but as their work is placed side by side, a common perspective appears.
The painters based their work on photographic images observed from all forms of media .
One notable link between all of the artists was that they paid no attention to the spectacular or unusual situations.
Their works shows empty, anonymous and forgotten spaces. In apparently banal scenes they create spaces of silence, rest and unfamiliarity.
As I was not able to take pictures in the gallery I show you some images from the lovely garden in the rain, the elegant ladies’ toiiet and a glimpse of the brochure
Alphabe Thursday R is for Rio de Janeiro
I haven’t come to Brazil to enjoy the glitz and razamataz that us Europeans have experienced over the decades via the media, travel brochures and geography books and exploited by the rich and famous. Those fools in my opinion who believe that Rio is the only place in the world with such splendour, beauty and diversity; thinking that the carnival way of life continues beyond the few days of the New Year!
I come because my daughter lives here ( I am here at the moment) indeed from my limited experience ad my untrained eye, Rio does have these wonderful attributes and many more beside that go unnoticed
That is not to say I am an authority on all things good and bad; my view also is somewhat rosy and as we go into yet another day of torrential rain my images of ‘R is for Rio’ are somewhat wet.
We hear much in the UK about Brazil and its booming economy and its deserved upward trend. However there is still poverty, greed, degradation and quick fix solutions. Also mismanagement on all levels that is causing disrepair continually to the poor and even to those who are struggling to make their way up the career path that seems to be straddled with bureaucratic obstacles.
Meanwhile a sample of images that give a WOW factor, but note they are purely superficial. Keep in mind the struggle of the workers who hurry past caring little for the orchid as it hang precariously in the trees above the busy street, or the freshly painted sign saying ‘I Love Rio’!
Wednesday’s Wise Woman … Carolina Maria de Jesus
I take the liberty to reflect back to an earlier Wise Woman post; when I began my love affair with Brazil. In particular Babilonia; a favela that kisses Leme beach and a mere saunter from Copacabana. So you see, already it has some glorious attributes. However like all relationships the characters involved have baggage and issues not always discussed during lovemaking.
Carolina Maria de Jesus was an earlier inhabitant of a favela in Sao Paulo. Not unlike this one in Rio originally built for the soldiers and their families as they returned from the insurrections and wars of the late 18th and 19th century. The favelas later became the homes for migrant workers in the growing capital of Brazil.
It was then that Carolina moved to the favela. As a single parent, she collected and salvaged garbage to sell and make a meagre living for her family. Caroline was not destined for such a life. She had enjoyed an education at a time when girls were not encouraged to learn. But now she lived a life of squalor and disrepair, but she was able to write a diary about the state of affairs and find find fame for a while.
Sadly the bonhomie was short lived and she died back at the favela destitute and alone.
My daughter and I have collected several editions of Carolina’s books between us. This one is the latest addition; a rather shabby but a delight found in a flea market in Rio.
So Carolina’s memory lives on in two little libraries one in a favela where it should be and the other in the UK where Carolina’s existence and those like her go unnoticed.
Images from Quarto de Despejo : diario de uma fevalada by Carolina Maria de Jesus.
Coat Hanger Doll's House 