Quelles émissions/séries télévisées regardiez-vous quand vous étiez enfant?
Nous avions une télé, mais nous n’avions pas trop le droit de la regarder… Mon père l’allumait le soir pour le journal télévisé et de temps en temps nous regardions un film le mardi soir pendant les vacances… Je me souviens aussi d’être autorisée à regarder des dessins-animés de Disney (Picsou) le samedi en fin d’après-midi (ou dimanche?), et plus tard à l’adolescence nous avions miraculeusement le droit de regarder un épisode d’une série américaine par semaine, McGyver, puis Beverly Hills 90210, puis Melrose Place.
Quelle a été le voyage le plus long (ou loin) que vous ayez jamais fait?
Ma vie entière est un voyage qui ne se termine jamais ! Non mais sans blague, j’ai dû aller vérifier tous les grands vols que j’ai fait de ma vie :
le vol Toronto (YYZ)-São Paulo (GRU) fait 10h
le vol New York (JFK) – Buenos-Aires (EZE) fait 11h (mais je voyageais depuis Montréal, ce qui rajoute probablement 1h30 de vol).
Il n’y a pas de vols directs de Paris à Hong-Kong, et j’étais tellement petite quand j’ai fait ce voyage que je ne me souviens pas du tout où nous avions fait escale, mais tous ce trajet prend environs 20h de vol, donc c’est probablement le voyage le plus lointain que j’ai fait.
Qu’est-ce qui a mal commencé mais s’est plutôt bien terminé?
Euh, tous nos déménagements ?! Ha ha ha. Et c’est pas fini… J’espère que ça va bientôt terminer !
Quel est le truc le plus bizarre qu’un invité chez vous ait jamais fait?
Je n’arrive pas à me souvenir de quoi que se soit de bizarre.
Quel conseil de vos parents auriez-vous dû écouter?
Dans mon cas c’est plutôt : Quels conseils de mes parents je n’aurais pas dû écouter…
Qu’est-ce que vous avez malheureusement cassé?
J’avais une jolie tasse avec des feuilles et des oiseaux tropicaux que j’avais acheté quand nous habitions à Rondônia. Je l’avais trouvée dans le supermarché du coin, c’était très rare de trouver des jolies choses où nous habitions. Elle me faisait sourire quand je buvais mon thé le matin. Je l’aimais bien cette tasse, mais elle s’est cassé quand nous sommes arrivés à la prochaine destination… C’est tout bête une tasse, j’en ai plein d’autres, mais je crois bien que j’en ai pleuré de celle-là!
Comment vous tenez-vous au courant des nouvelles? Quel genre de nouvelles vous intéressent le plus?
Quand j’habitais chez mes parents (il y a très longtemps), mon père avait la facheuse habitude d’allumer la radio pour écouter les nouvelles le matin pendant le petit-déjeuner. Je trouvais ça extrêmement déprimant ! Un matin je lui ai carrément demandé pourquoi diable il voulait se réveiller tous les jours en écoutant tous les malheurs du monde… Bref. Petite annecdote pour illustrer que j’aime vivre autant que possible dans une sorte d’ignorance béate! ha ha. Mais malgrès tous ces efforts, les actualités viennent à moi, malgrès moi, par le biais de FB. Et quand un évènement m’interpelle (éducation ou évènement artistique), je le googueulise pour en savoir plus…
Qu’admirez-vous (ou admiriez-vous) le plus chez votre mère?
Sa sensibilité artistique, ses connaissances des techniques et de l’histoire de l’art. Elle est aussi une excellente pédagogue.
Quel a été le premier job de votre vie?
À 16 ans, j’ai fait du baby-sitting. À 17 ans, j’étais monitrice dans un camp d’été (au Québec, c’est comme ça qu’on appelle les “colonies de vacances”).
Quelle est la dernière chose que vous avez achetée?
Rien de bien intéressant. Je suis allée au supermarché samedi…
Quelle est la chose la plus triste que vous avez appris cette semaine?
Pas triste, mais c’est la panique à la bord parce que nos propriétaires nous ont annoncé qu’ils vont vendre la maison… Alors on s’est prit une grosse claque de réalité dans la gueule parce qu’on s’est rendu compte que dans la région le prix du marché pour les locations est effroyablement élevé par rapport au prix des maisons en vente (notre location actuelle étant bien au-dessous du prix du marché) (si nous avions des économies, il serait beaucoup moins cher d’acheter que de louer! Mais bien sûr, nous avons 0 économies). Notre situation économique étant précaire, nous espérions qu’elle s’améliore avant de subir un tel scénario. Nous courons dans tous les sens pour trouver de l’aide, du logement, de l’emploi… Stress, insomnies, grippe.
Êtes vous heureux? Pourriez vous l’être plus?
Y a-t-il un moment dans la vie où on peut se dire qu’on est 100% heureux? Je me souviens qu’en arrivant au Brésil après avoir tant rêvé d’aller y vivre, ma belle-mère et moi avons pleuré de joie dans les bras l’une de l’autre en se revoyant à l’aéroport. Mais en même temps, pendant plusieurs semaines il y a avait tant d’incertitudes par rapport à où exactement nous allions vivre et combien de temps il nous faudrait attendre pour le savoir que ça gâchait un peu le plaisir… Similairement, notre situation actuelle n’est pas joyeuse, et pourtant, malgrès tout, je peux affirmer que j’ai un mariage heureux et des enfants en santé, alors oui, je suis heureuse.
Tristeza não tem fim
A felicidade é como a pluma
Que o vento vai levando pelo ar
Voa tão leve
Mas tem a vida breve
Precisa que haja vento sem parar
A felicidade do pobre parece
A grande ilusão do carnaval
A gente trabalha o ano inteiro
Por um momento de sonho
Pra fazer a fantasia
De rei ou de pirata ou jardineira
E tudo se acabar na quarta-feira
Tristeza não tem fim
A felicidade é como a gota
De orvalho numa pétala de flor
Depois de leve oscila
E cai como uma lágrima de amor
A minha felicidade está sonhando
Nos olhos da minha namorada
É como esta noite
Em busca da madrugada
Falem baixo, por favor
Pra que ela acorde alegre como o dia
Oferecendo beijos de amor
The noise level here in Canada is nothing compared to what we had to endure in Brazil : the constant barking from the neighbors dogs every time someone walks by in front of their house, the noisy motorcycles, the vendors announcing loudly what they’re selling by yelling or playing their jingles on loudspeakers from their bike, car trunk, or pickup truck (eggs, cheese, bread, sweets, or gas canisters — they all came around at least once a week if not everyday) and, of course, the neighbors who honk the horn when they leave (to say bye?) and when they arrive home (to have someone open the gate for them). Those were the daily, constant, background noises. There were also the occasional days when a neighbor decided to a party and every one else, many streets over, had to enjoy whichever loud music was being blasted through (again) loudspeakers, for as long as the party was going. Brazilians are just loud people. All the time. I don’t think I ever got used to it.
During our last year in Brazil, we were living in a dead end street in a relatively quiet neighborhood. But even so, in contrast, when we arrived in Canada, here in the house where we currently live, which is not even in a dead end street, it was shockingly quiet.
And yet, when I started recording, I became aware of the many noises that I would unconsciously tune out: the train that blows his many whistles at the railway crossing some streets away on one side, the ships that blow their whistles too when they pass by the river (as they pass under the bridge, I think) on the other side, the neighbor that mows his lawn in the summer, the occasional airplane, etc. The house makes many sounds inside too: the fridge, the water pipes, the heating system, even my laptop fan makes a small humming sound!
So I had to find the quietest room in the house, which was surprisingly not upstairs where the bedrooms are, because I could hear too much noise from the streets (cars passing by), even with closed windows, but downstairs in the basement… Yes, the dungeon of the house. Small windows, very little light : not necessarily the most agreeable space, but indeed the quietest.
Besides, as I would learn soon enough, producing an audio book is : 10% of the time recording and 90% of the time editing. I absolutely need to have the best recording booth possible (which should ideally stay in the same condition during the duration of the whole project), but once I have the raw recording, I can bring my laptop/headphones/mouse upstairs with me and do the editing wherever I want in the house.
I don’t know why I can wax lyrical so much about something so… ugly? ordinary? boring? Maybe because to me, even if I had to set it up in the basement where it’s cold during winter and humid in the summer, my recording studio is functional, extra-ordinary, and far from boring (the job I get done with it is not boring to me anyway).
The desk with the bright light (it’s my light therapy lamp — I had to lessen the intensity for the picture) and the microphone is where I record. The surrounding soundproofing is done with moving blankets. The structure holding them are 3 clothes racks (1 at the back that I found for $5 on Kijiji, and 2 better ones on each side that I bought at Ikea), topped with a piece of plywood that was lying around the house and some cardboard (to prevent sagging), all topped with another layer of blanket. D was thinking of building me a real solid wooden frame, but it would have been heavier and harder to take apart when we need to move again.
I covered the table top with a small blanket too and I put a carpet on the floor to absorb as many little noises as possible.
The white desk is where I usually put my laptop, a bit further away from the microphone to avoid picking up the hum of the fan (very small noise, but the less sounds I need to edit, the better).
The boys have started school again, and you know what I miss about Brazil? The uniforms.
There are a lot of things that can be said about the superior quality of education in Canada, but I miss the uniforms of a third-world country!
In Brazil all the kids wear uniforms for school, from kindergarten to secondary school, public and private schools alike. People like uniforms so much that a lot of jobs that I wasn’t used to see with uniforms, require their employees to wear one (pharmacies, supermarkets, restaurants, gyms, driver’s schools, etc.). It usually consists of comfortable shorts and T-shirt, sometimes a pair of pants and a light jacket too (optional — in states with cooler climates only), in a resistant and very washable fabric. It’s cheap, durable, and oh so practical. The boys had each two pairs of uniforms, and I simply needed to wash the dirty one while the other was being used.
We have been doing quite well over here. Winter is slowly coming to an end, with snow flurries here and there, but nothing stays on the ground anymore. In the past few weeks, I finally bought a new (second-hand) bike and went for a ride along the river. It was still chilly but it made me feel alive. There is something so simple and freeing to be on a bike. I don’t know if it’s speed, the wind on my face, or the simple fact that I can go fast with the sole strength of my legs. In any case, I visited two different swimming pools, subscribed for a monthly membership (it can be used for any of the four city’s swimming pools and their fitness centers), registered the boys for swimming lessons (90% of which was paid by the city! — a program for low income families), and have accompanied them for their first official swimming lesson! It was all very exciting for me and for them.
I used to swim a lot, eons ago, when I was a young (and fit!) student. The only team sport that I actually liked to play was water-polo, which I played regularly for a couple of years in Montreal. I like to find myself in the rhythmical balance of breathing and movement, it’s soothing. Ironically, before moving to Brazil, I thought that with the year round beautiful weather over there I would certainly find a pool and swim more regularly than I did here. Unfortunately, unless you pay hefty condo fees to have access to a pool or a club membership, there are no public swimming pools like there are here in first world countries. Sure, theoretically there are amenities such as schools, pools and libraries in Brazil, but like most things, there are not easy to find, not easy of access, not affordable for the general population.
As the Brazilians say, é complicado.
Early morning view of Detroit on my way to the pool on the pathway with my bike. Happiness.
WARNING: This is a very long tale of Brazilian bureaucracies. If you haven’t the heart to read all this, please just have a look at our last pictures of Brazil (Parque da Cidade, work of the well known Brazilian landscape designer Roberto Burle Marx) and wait until I write about something else. 🙂
One of my student who was learning German in Brazil told me one day that he had family relatives in Angola. Some of them were trying to move to Brazil, some of them to Portugal, but it was particularly difficult for one cousin who was born during the civil war and could not get a birth certificate… That person couldn’t travel because she couldn’t prove that she was born. I can’t even imagine in what state of chaos the country must be to not be able to provide vital documents to its citizens!
Our problem (if I can say such a thing in comparison) is other. My children were born with three citizenship ; Canadian (their native land), French (because of me) and Brazilian (because of their dad). When we want to travel, not only do we need to decide which passport will be the most useful, check if it’s not expired (like any normal person), but we also need to make sure that we have all accompanying documents because it is required of all travellers to comply with the laws of all countries, where you come from and where you are going.
In my case it was a nightmare to figure out what was needed to leave Brazil with the children to come back to Canada.
Since Canada now demands its dual Canadian citizens to always travel with a valid Canadian passport when traveling to or transitioning to Canada, we were happy to have those passports ready since the children’s Brazilian passports were expired. However I also learned that Brazil has now the same law, which means that if the kids ever want to travel from Canada to Brazil for a visit one day, each one of them will need to have both passports valid to travel. Luckily renewing a passport is about the same price as asking for a visa (Canadians need a tourist visa to visit Brazil). (Not that we are planning to travel again any time soon).
D was already here in Canada, when I realized that in order to leave Brazil, the federal police requires Brazilian children to have an authorization from the other parent to travel. So at first, since we were going to travel back to Canada with our Canadian passports, I checked for the Canadian consent letter form to travel with children. I filled it, emailed it to D for him (and a witness) to sign, and asked him to mail it back by regular mail (we had plenty of time then), because the signature has to be original to be certified by a notary public…
While I was freaking out because after 2 weeks the mail had still not arrived, I was also in doubt about which form was going to be asked of me. Was the Canadians form good enough for the Brazilian federal police? Would they stop me from boarding if that was not the correct form? Did the signature need to be recognized at the cartório (notary public) only por semelhança (by similarity) or by the more expensive authentication (in which case the person who signs has to be present — not possible) ??? I emailed the Canadian consulate in Sao Paulo to ask these very specific questions, but I got a standard reply of “check with the Brazilian authorities”.
The problem with the Brazilian authorities is that with a great air of certainty everybody tells you something different, even if they don’t know what they are talking about. What I wanted is to get the information in written somewhere online, which was very difficult to find indeed, but here is what I found. So, yes, I needed to have the Brazilian authorization form filled and signed by the other parent (D who was in Canada) and go to the notary public to have the signature recognized, thankfully, only por semelhança.
All this preparation finally concluded in the very last week before departure. I received the Canadian form (by the extremely slow air mail that took one month to arrive) and the Brazilian forms (by FedEx which took 3 days instead of 2 to arrive because the Brazilian customs were on strike — again). Just in time to have them recognized by the notary public. Thankfully I had my awesome in-laws to look after the children and I had no more job or home responsibilities because I was otherwise already running around like a headless chicken.
The same week, I also had to go to the veterinary with the cats, get their health forms filled, stamped, travel to the Guarulhos airport (2 hours of bus travel, to and from) to leave the forms at the Vigiagro (Vigilância Agropecuária Internacional) and go back to pick them up two days later. They certainly could have simplified the process and saved all travelers with pets from a second trip to the airport in the week before traveling… But that would be too convenient in the eyes of the Brazilian bureaucracy. (Don’t tell me they need two days to put a stamp on a form!).
So, until the day we were to travel I had no certainty to have all the necessary paperwork to travel, but at least I did all what I thought could be done…
So, what happened the day of departure?
We arrived well ahead of time at the airport. My in-laws had paid for a small bus with chauffeur to bring us all at the airport, our tearful good-bye committee and us, mother-in-law, father-in-law, brother-in-law, his girlfriend, and us. I was the one with the three children, two cats, 7 luggage, 1 small carry-on bag and a heavy back-pack. When the lady at check-in asked me for our traveling documents, I showed all our Canadian passports. Then she asked what was our status in Brazil and which documents we showed upon entering the country (5 years ago) (what does it have to do we anything, I don’t know, since we were LEAVING THE COUNTRY!). Start of panic attack here. I said that I am permanent resident and the children were born in Canada. I showed their official Brazilian transcription of their birth certificates. She had to call another guy from behind to double check. That wasn’t good enough. Breath in, breath out. My heavy backpack was full of all our documents, a dozen passports, birth certificates, marriage certificates (French, Canadian and Brazilian — ALL THE SHIT). What could I possibly show the lady that would suffice?!!! Luckily I remembered, in the midst of my very jumbled thoughts, that I had the children’s (expired) Brazilian passports. Hey, that’s what we showed when we entered the country, no?! “Yes, that’s fine, you can show this at the federal police agent when you pass through customs – Even if they are expired?, I asked – Yes, even expired.” she replied.
Ok. Big sigh of relief.
After leaving the 7 pieces of luggage and paying for the cats, now was time for good-byes. There wasn’t a dry eye around, even if the men pretended to be looking elsewhere. The kids quickly caught on the emotion, and Uriel was soon sobbing profusely. It was the saddest thing.
After passing through security, where I had to take each cat individually OUT of their cages, take off their collar, and put them back again (thankfully they were both too scared to try to escape), we arrived in front of the Brazilian Federal Police officer. Now I was prepared and showed him the boarding passes, the Brazilian letters of consent (dully signed and certified), and the children’s Brazilian passports. After 10 WHOLE MINUTES, he exclaims, “Ah, but these passports are expired!”, “Well, yes, but we are traveling with the Canadian passports! Those are valid!”. Then I showed him the Canadian passports, I mean, the lady at the check-in had already explained that in order to LEAVE the country I didn’t need to show the Canadian passports, but rather the Brazilian documents. They were driving me crazy! Anyway, so the guy had 7 passports, 4 boarding passes, 3 consent letters and photocopies of D’s Canadian passport in front of him, he read EVERY SINGLE LINE of the passports very slowly, checked, and double-checked the names on the passports with the names on the boarding passes, and the consent letters, and after what must have been 45-minutes or one hour (a very long time to hold one’s breath), he gave me back all the documents (except the consent letters) and nodded his head ever so slightly. I wasn’t sure. “Esta tudo bem?” (Is everything alright?), I had to ask, just to make sure. Yes, yes, we could go!
After this I felt as if I was flying to the gate, even with the heavy backpack, the two cats, the cumbersome winter coats (please, carry your own coat, I only have two arms), the extra carry-on bag which kept knocking on one of the cat’s cage, and the three children that I was trying to herd… We made it!
And then a couple of hours later, after waiting in a very disorganized boarding area (nothing new here), and piling up in a bus shuttle, we somehow boarded the plane!
I will never more complain about the headaches of Canadian or, even, French bureaucracies.