All My Bags Are Packed, I'm Ready to Go...

In hindsight I am glad I willingly stayed up into the wee hours of the morning to pack my belongings and organize what I needed for the next day. If you had asked me at 7:15 that morning, I would have told you otherwise. I was first woken by the earthquake that has become Pre-7:00 AM-William who shook me to remind me of my promise to go to the beach early. Nine minutes later, as if it was a programmed snooze alarm, an aftershock of the initial July 4th quake brought me to the reality that my time of being unconscious was over.

I got up and ate breakfast with William, Uncle Mark and Aunt Lori. William and I each had a crape type omelet and poured ourselves a glass of the "Juice of the Day". I took a gulp, hoping for the smooth sweet taste of maracuja, only to have my taste buds send a red alert signal that it was not the passion fruit but the dreaded mango, the only fruit I encountered in Brazil that I didn't like. Like a member of the KGB, William snuck into the kitchen careful to avoid Inacia. He pulled the container of peach juice that had been used to concoct the smoothies the night before and brought it into the room. We filled fresh glasses and drank two cups fooling Inacia into thinking that we had enjoyed the freshly squeezed mango juice.

William went into the room and he was dressed and ready for the walk to the beach in a matter of moments. We left the house and made it the mile to the beach in less than 15 minutes. Two factors aided us in this feat: the fact we were going down hill and the fact William had finally worn shoes with support in them. The vendors were few and far between at this hour in the morning, and the rising tide had also kept many normal beach goers off the sand until the afternoon. We rode the waves for a half hour or so before beginning the trek uphill toward the house.

I posted my blog, finished packing, went to work on my daily exercise routine, took a shower and was ready to go by noon. The pool workers were outside installing a brand new filter and pipe system around the pool. Caroline was showing her usual sign of faith by wearing her bathing suit, hoping that this would be the day that she could actually use it. She had been conducting this ritual for about four days at this point. Uncle Mark returned home from the Planalto, and after a quick lunch of sandwiches I packed the car and bid farewell to the house on Lobster Road.

We stopped by the Planalto so I could try one more time to find my sunglasses. I got to see the progress that had been made on the hall since I had last been there. The two brick walls that led to the entry door of the hall had been knocked down. I had spent hours chipping concrete off of the brick with the finesse a 1960s barber would use when giving his customer a close shave. Uncle Mark has spent the morning lugging 50 and 80lb bags of concrete into the co-op area. The women involved in the co-op were performing an evacuation procedure due to the flying dust that was starting to flaw their products. The moved the materials to Suzete's house down the block, where they would then work on them for the remainder of the afternoon and the summer.

My last attempt to find my sunglasses proved futile despite Neto and Chiquinho calling people to see if they knew where they were. I said goodbye to my new friends who had gathered there to say goodbye. Like General Douglas Macarthur leaving the Philippians Islands during World War II, I turned to the group of 20-30 year olds and said "I Shall Return". OK not really, but I did tell them that I hoped to come back soon if everything fell into place. I had enjoyed my time in the Planalto. I was upset to be leaving now that the actual heavy workload had just begun. We all piled into the car and headed for the airport.

A few minutes into our drive we heard the car behind us beeping. I turned around to see a red Volkswagen Gol, which had been named "Baby Abordo" by William due to the sticker in the back window informing those behind the 3 cylinder automobile that there was a baby on board. I don't think anyone in their right mind could call Pietro a baby, but I can tell you that I was happy that I got a chance to say goodbye to Luis and Lillia. They had tracked us down and dodged the heavy traffic of donkey's, bicycles and mopeds to catch up to us. We arrived at the airport and I said goodbye to Uncle Mark and the kids. I told William to be on the lookout for anyone wearing black Oakley sunglasses in the Planalto and then headed in the airport with Aunt Lori.

My flight was delayed 2 hours, cutting my three hour layover in San Paulo to just over an hour. Aunt Lori gave me the rundown of what to do in Natal, in San Paulo and once I get to Newark. I listened intently, getting more and more intimidated as I heard each separate step involved in the process of flying into my home country. I gave her a hug goodbye and watched as she exited the airport and got into the tiny car. They headed back to the Planalto to mix concrete, as I sat at the gate waiting to begin the long journey home...

A Compleatly Chipped Hall Gets Fresh Actual Concrete

Uncle Mark Poses with A Makeshift Hammer, Made with a Wooden Block and a Poll.

Perhaps this picture will someday sit on tables and hang on walls everywhere, much like the photo of his dad leaning on a broom does today.

Neto Futilely Trys to Track Down My Missing Oakley's as Chiquinho Looks On