Tempestade de gelo

Yes, it’s winter here, but no, there are no ice storms in Brazil, and definitely not here in the North of Goiás! We have been having cooler nights, around 15°C, and while I feel cold and need TWO thick blankets to cover myself to sleep comfortably, my husband still turns on the fan and covers himself with only one single thin sheet. He has always been warm blooded. 😉

I have been cleaning up my old traveling trunk lately. It is full of memorabilia, namely old letters (do you remember the time we used to communicate long-distance through hand-written letters?), old fashion diaries, and many dolls I was keeping in case I had a daughter one day. After two tries that resulted in three boys, I think it’s safe to bet it won’t happen, so I have been giving away the toys gradually to the very few girls around us. As for the letters and diaries, I have been down memory lane… A strange place to travel. I remember my late teens and early twenties as if it were yesterday, yet it was almost twenty years ago! GASP. My mind was a very strange place by then. I was myself in essence, I guess, but my beliefs, my priorities and dreams have changed dramatically. Thank God for the person I have become, I was so confused by then, yet seemingly so sure of myself!

For the purpose of this post, I thought it might be interesting to copy, and edit a bit, an assignment I was given for an English class in college. From 1997 to 1999, I was enrolled in a 2-years pre-university program in Music in an English-speaking Cégep (Collège d’Éducation Général Et Professionel) in Montreal.

Here it goes.

Last year, on Tuesday, January 6, 1998, an ice storm hit Montreal island. Many neighborhoods had no electricity. The situation became dramatic especially for the population whose heating depended solely on the power of Hydro-Quebec. I interviewed three people of three different age groups who, twelve months later, still remember.

The first one who kindly accepted to answer my questions is Mounia. She is the youngest girl I know around me, a neighbor and my very first piano student. An intelligent twelve-year-old girl. I had to ask her the questions by phone in the evening of Saturday, February 13, because she was sick and the illness was contagious. The TV in the background.
– Where were you when the storm hit Montreal last year?
– I spent the Christmas holidays with my family in Florida, and when we came back the ice storm arrived the day just after.
– Did you miss power right away?
– Yes, almost, one or two days afte the beginning of the storm.
– Did you stay home?
– No, we went with my family at my uncle’s apartment on Queen Mary. We had electricity because the building had a generator.
– What did you do to spend time there?
– Nothing special; we played cards, computer games… Wait a sec’ Noelia, there is somebody at the door. (I hear her opening the door and tell ‘somebody’, “Yes, I’m still sick and it’s contagious.”)
– What do you remember the most about the ice storm?
– The tree branches with a lot of ice over them.
– Do you remember ever having been afraid?
– Oh no, except for the weather outside everything was normal.
– Do you remember a nice moment?
– (she coughs a little before answering) Yes! The funniest was the night before going at my uncle’s, we spent one night around the fireplace in the living room and we cooked marshmallows.
– How would you feel if we had another ice storm?
– I would not like to live through another one but it was fun because we didn’t have school. After they canceled some breaks and pedagogical days (to catch up on teaching days), that was less fun.
“Ha! Ha!” we laugh at her answer, then I thank her and hang up the phone.

My second interviewee is one of my best friends. Emilia is from Colombia, she is twenty years old. I met her Saturday evening just after calling Mounia at a Second Cup (a coffee shop) on Sainte-Catherine Street with a lot of noise and young people around us. We like that place because it is downtown and close to the ‘two-fifty-place’ (the cheapest movie-theater in English).
– Where were you when the ice storm hit Montreal?
– It was a Tuesday (on winter break) and I was home, coming back from work. But in Dollard-Des-Ormeaux we missed power after two days and we went to the house of friends of the family I was living with.
– How was it in that house?
– Well, it was warm there, and that was the most important. It was also a big house, but after a while we could feel tension because we were nine people in a house where they used to be four.
– What did you do to pass the time?
– We played board games and spent a lot of time talking in front of the fireplace.
– Do you think the situation helped you to get along better with relatives?
– Not really with the family I was living with at the time. (She is distracted one moment by people passing behind her, “Oops! Sorry.” “It’s OK.”)… But I met those people I didn’t know before, and I know that the family I was with stayed in touch with them as well.
– Did the storm affect your job?
– Yes. I was working at a computer shop in Snowdon and because of the power cut, we had to close it for two days.
– What is your most vivid memory?
– Oh… It was when I went to your house after work and you were practicing the ‘Valse Romantique’ by Debussy. Every time you play it now, I remember the view I had of your garden with the enormous branches broken by ice.
– Do you remember bad moments?
– Once we went to pick up some clothes back home and I remember that I took off my shoes as usual… (she shivers). Even the carpet was frozen inside the house.
– Did that affect you in everyday life?
– No, in the sense that I don’t think of it every morning when I wake up, but I think of it sometimes. I realized how people can be worried about losing things and how men can adapt themselves to many different situations. I realized that you might lose everything tomorrow, so I try not to depend on material needs.
– Would you be ready for another ice storm?
– I think that I would be ready psychologically because it wouldn’t be a new experience anymore.
– Would you behave in another way in the case of a new ice storm?
– Yes, for sure; I would try to do some volunteer work, to help other people.

(This is what I used to practice back then, I can’t remember if I ever finished it)

The third and last person I interviewed is my mother. She is presently in her mid-forties. I didn’t know exactly how she felt regarding us during the ice storm before I asked her these questions. She had the luck to leave Montreal on January first 98 to visit her family in Argentina. The interview took place in the kitchen at home after our Sunday brunch, February 14, 1999. The sun was shining outside, a cold and bright winter day. It was warm inside. The dishwasher had just started its usual work.
– What are you thinking about when I ask you about the ice storm?
– I can tell you that I missed an historical event in Quebec (irony). I was in Argentina under the sun of the austral summer, but there too, people were worried because the influence of ‘el corriente del Niño’ (the current Niño) was affecting all America. There were inundations in some regions of Argentina which are not usually affected, especially not at that time of year.
– But how was it going in Buenos Aires?
– Oh well, the weather was great, but the news I had there through the cable on television had me really worried. Do you remember how many times I called you guys? There were apocalyptic images: high voltage towers falling down like card castles, lodging centers seemed to be filled with hundreds of people sleeping on the floor. It was unbelievable! These images were for me as if my family was in country at war. (She nervously lights up a cigarette and starts smoking).
– When did you first feel relieved?
– One week after the beginning of the storm, when your father told me that my two kids were finally going to sleep warmly until the end of this situation.
– Which is your most vivid memory about the Ice Storm?
– When I came back home, around the 20th or after, I can’t remember… I could see enormous trees cut in pieces and long branches of 3 or 4 meters covered with a big thickness of ice in the backyard.
– Did you learn something because of the ice storm?
– I realized that the Quebec population is generous and jointly responsible. On the other hand, I didn’t like the reaction of some other people who were mad to have had their daily routine disrupted!

(The following may be some of the images my mom saw when she was in Argentina)

I do not remember exactly where I was when the Ice Storm hit Montreal last year, but I was indeed here. I live in NDG (Notre-Dame-De-Grâce), the Montreal neighborhood where the power was out the longest. Our streets had old trees and branches that had fallen on top of exposed power lines. It was a long and difficult work to clean up the streets and put the power back up. We missed electricity from the beginning of the storm; during the first night, it was out only a little while, then nothing during the remaining nine days.

I spent the first three days practicing piano as if nothing was happening around me. I was just wearing another pair of socks over the first pair and an extra pull-over. I did the same thing to sleep at night. Our house was holding out the heat a little while longer than most other houses in our street and neighborhood because, unlike the vast majority of Canadian houses, ours is not built with wood but rather with blocks of concrete. It takes longer to heat up, but also longer to cool down. My father had also lighted up the fireplace in the living room, though it did little to warm up the other rooms of the house.
The fourth day, my brother and I decided that we wanted to take a hot shower. We took the bus as usual to the metro; the metro however was not working anymore when we arrived there. So from there we thought that the closest pool would be in Westmount; unfortunately, we faced closed doors and no hot water there either. The buses were slow, and we didn’t know where to go, but many bus rides later, we finally found hot water in the sports center of the University of Montreal. It literally took us all afternoon to get washed and warmed!
At home, I was not able to practice anymore, for my fingers were freezing in contact with the piano. We had invitations from friends everywhere to go stay with them, but my father who was keeping the fireplace alight night and day, even if it was keeping us barely warm, insisting that this experience was “unbelievable, more exciting than camping.” He had always been special, in his own twisted version of optimism, but that to me was simply crazy. He was making me nervous; I was mad at him and cold to the bones.
After six days without power, my father finally let my brother and I go to the apartment of a friend of his cousin in Côte-Des-Neiges. It was a little apartment, but it was warm, and the people were nice. They were usually three living there; we became seven when, in addition to another couple, my dad brought us in. We spent time watching the news on television, drawing or talking. I spent a lot of time talking to my friends on the phone, more than usual because I felt extremely alone even if surrounded by so many people. I was also disappointed because I was unable to practice my music.

When everything became gradually normal, it was for me as if spring were already here!

Sleeping at Last

Have you ever heard about Sleeping at Last? It’s the name of an indie band I discovered recently. I thought it was quite fitting as I’ve had trouble sleeping. Again.

In order to have the kids in school at 7:30 AM, the alarm clock is set at 6 o’clock. For a few mornings I was waking up half an hour earlier, then one whole hour earlier, and once I even woke up at four! I stayed in bed and was in and out of consciousness until the alarm rang, but still… Did I mention that I’m not a morning person? I can’t get to bed earlier than midnight. So waking up earlier than six makes for very short nights. I was exhausted. I couldn’t explain why either. ‘Whatthefreak?!‘ was my only thought. D told me I was probably anxious about falling asleep after the alarm, which has indeed happened in the past. What was I supposed to do to pass the message to my subconscious? I don’t know why it happened then, and I don’t know how I seem to be back to normal now. Weird.

(click for source)

Back to Sleeping At Last. Apparently they are having some kind of buzz because of a few songs that were featured on TV shows, but I don’t watch any of those (unless I find them on Y*tube), so I’ve been out of it. Anyway. These days I have the album Atlas: Year One playing on repeat on Deezer.

Some people get their escape from drugs, video games, painting or baking. My escape is music. (And reading.) (And sewing.) (Or a combination — though reading and sewing at the same time is rather difficult. Ha ha).

Here is one of my favorite:

We laid our names to rest
Along the dotted line.
We left our date of birth
And our history behind.

We were full of life,
We could barely hold it in.
We were amateurs at war,
Strangers to suffering.

We made our families proud
But scared at the same time.
We promised we’d be safe,
Another lie from the front lines.

Our backs against the wall,
We’re surrounded and afraid.
Our lives now in the hands
Of the soldiers taking aim.

Our questions ricochet
Like broken satellites:
How our bodies, born to heal,
Become so prone to die?

Though time is ruthless,
It showed us kindness in the end,
By slowing down enough,
A second chance to make amends.
As life replayed, we heard a voice proclaim:

“lay your weapons down!
They’re calling off the war
On account of losing track
Of what we’re fighting for.”

So we found our way back home,
Let our cuts and bruises heal.
While a brand-new war began,
One that no one else could feel.

Our nights have grown so long.
Now we beg for sound advice.
“let the brokenness be felt
‘til you reach the other side.
There is goodness in the heart
Of every broken man
Who comes right up to the edge
Of losing everything he has.”

We were young enough to sign
Along the dotted line.

Now we’re young enough to try
To build a better life.

Sede de chuva

Oi, we are still here! We haven’t melted yet, which is surprising considering that the temperatures haven’t been under 30°C for quite a while now, for so long in fact that I can’t remember how  “cold” must feel. I’m (kinda) dreaming of wearing a little vest or long sleeves. How does it feel like not to be constantly sweating? I forgot. Just to give an idea, last night as I was getting ready for bed I was happy because the wind had picked up, it seemed it was going to rain (I like a nice storm while I’m in bed), I even thought that it has gotten cooler… but I checked and it was 30.6°C (as opposed to the usual 34°C).The rainy season hasn’t started yet. It should soon, but we’ve had only a few drizzles that have left us begging for more.

My laptop computer has been acting up. I bought it before leaving Canada two years ago, so it’s relatively new (for me), but I suppose that even those machines aren’t meant to be working in such temperatures. Should I consider giving it a rest in the fridge? Of course, we did think about installing A/C, but with the way the house is built (no insulation between the ceiling and the tile roof), it would be a total waste of money. Not that it keeps our less fortunate neighbors (who live in wooden, shack like houses) to enjoy their A/C, but then I haven’t asked to see their electricity bill, which for us is already about twice the amount we were paying in Canada as it is. Thank God, my kitchen oven is gas (also, we definitely don’t need to heat the house! haha).

Oh, speaking of the pleasures of a very modern commodity. We’ve also had regular power cuts everyday for the past few months. Mostly from the hours of 2 to 4 PM, and 6 to 8 PM because, I suppose, that’s when the whole town turns on its fans, TVs, computers, and AIR CONDITIONING after work. Curiously the bill hasn’t been any cheaper.

The following song (Sede de chuva // Thirst for rain) is not my favorite style of Brazilian music (I prefer MPB), but I thought the song was very à propos. I liked the lyrics and funny video.

Móveis Coloniais de Acaju – Sede de chuva

Sempre foi e assim será
Minha sina é esperar
O dia em que você irá voltarQuando finalmente for
Da distância entre nós dois
Ser mais que ar, que fé, que pó e calor

O seu cheiro é meu suor
O seu gosto vem me despertar, me cobre de cor
Meu contorno sei de cor
O seu choro vem me confortar, lavar essa dor

Molha e percorre o meu corpo
Chora todo o seu, todo o seu amor
Volta e me deixa bem úmida
E inunda o meu ser

E segue a seca a me queimar
Abraço o azul do céu e espero o cinza desaguar
Acaba com o vazio dessa minha sede de chuva

Quando finalmente for
Da distância entre nós dois
Ser mais que ar, que fé, que pó e calor

O seu cheiro é meu suor
O seu gosto vem me despertar, me cobre de cor
Meu contorno sei de cor
O seu choro vem me confortar, lavar essa dor

Molha e percorre o meu corpo
Chora todo o seu, todo o seu amor
Volta e me deixa bem úmida
E inunda o meu ser

E segue a seca a me queimar
Abraço o azul do céu e espero o cinza desaguar
Acaba com o vazio dessa minha sede de chuva

Always been and always will be
My fate is to wait
The day when you’ll returnWhen it finally happens
The distance between us both
Will be more than air, than faith, than dust and heat

Your smell is my sweat
Your taste comes to wake me, covers me with color
I know my profile by heart
Her crying comforts me, washes this pain away

Wet and cover my body
Cry all your, all your love
Come back and leave me all drenched
And flood all my being

And following the drought that burns me
I embrace the blue sky and hope for the gray to drain
To end with this emptiness of mine, my thirst for rain

When it finally happens
The distance between us both
Will be more than air, than faith, than dust and heat

Your smell is my sweat
Your taste comes to wake me, covers me with color
I know my profile by heart
Her crying comforts me, washes this pain away

Wet and cover my body
Cry all your, all your love
Come back and leave me all drenched
And flood all my being

And following the drought that burns me
I embrace the blue sky and hope for the gray to drain
To end with this emptiness of mine, my thirst for rain