In Search of Fish Tacos in Rio de Janeiro

So I've been challenged these days. Can you guess what's been the most challenging?

The 3 week cough that went away for a day and then returned as a head cold?
The yummy gingerbread people in my cupboard, singing carols on a continuous loop, testing my patience, knowing that the only way to shut them up is to eat them?
The crusty road rash spread across my son's face after a nasty face plant off his bike?
Telling my mother that her Friday dates with her grandson will be on hold until we come back from our 2 year relocation to Brazil?
Is it the paper chase and important document round-up?
Is it listening to a prospective renter tell me that she's been living in a former grow-op full of mold, mice and electrical issues while her other place is being re-mediated for leaks, and on and on and oh, by the way, do I think that it would be okay to keep a 5 foot freezer full or frozen middle-eastern food on the back patio?
Is it the ever growing list of things to do before we leave? Nope, none of those things.

Staying in the moment is the real challenge. That and doing less. For a few days, I carried around a mental list of "things we need to bring", mostly spurred on by expats in Rio listing off everything they miss from home, and I suddenly I had this belief that I need certain things to be comfortable while I'm away; like my natural toothpaste, and certain type of sandals for my kid, and a blow up pool to set on the bottom of the showers 'cause they don't have tubs, and a life jacket for swimming in the pool at grandpa's and a replacement-less-fancy-so-I-don't-get-mugged wedding ring to wear while I'm down there, and hard-to-find spices and.... Are you reading this insanity?

Those things don't matter. Yes, there will be things down there that cost more, some things will be hard to find or impossible to find and I will miss organic dark chocolate, fish tacos and English books, but that's all part of the adventure, isn't it? Because if it's all like home, then why go at all, right?

In the end, there will be a suitcase sitting at the foot of my bed. There will be only a limited amount of space. Us three, will be on that plane, together, but our suitcases might be bound for Taiwan by mistake...

In the end, someone else might be living in our house,
they might decide to store a skidoo or a stuffed moose on the back patio.
Or maybe our house will stay vacant, quietly waiting for us to come home.

In the end, we'll say goodbye to loved ones and we will cry.
And later, especially when the kid does something cool
or when we're celebrating something special,
we'll wish we could be with them for real.

So, to meet this challenge, here's what I've done in this moment; I've put a ready-made frozen lasagna in the oven, I've sat myself down on the couch while my kid watches cartoons, and I'm looking at photos of our past trips to Brazil, remembering all that is wonderful about it. Mission accomplished!

In Vancouver, maybe a seal would swim up to your boat, but in Brazil it's a manatee!

Now, that's what I call a vacation!

My father-in-law makes my favorite Brazilian dish; prawn and cassava stew!

Farmer's Market

This is the beach in Barra the Tijuca, where I'll be living. No seaweed here!

Can't wait to take the kid up to see the Corcovado on the train!

Today is Not Pancake Day!

As I'm writing this, I'm debating if I feel like making chia seed pudding for the first time this afternoon and also reminding myself to return my overdue library books and call my friend Lynn. I'm thinking about how nice it's going to be to go to the gym tonight and have myself a bit of mommy time. Chatter, chatter, chatter, this and this and this.

Isn't it amazing how our minds can fill themselves up so fast with noise, things to do, to try, and to remember? Just the other day, I swear the chatter in my husband's head was so loud, I could hear it. It's like grinding, squeaks and scratches. For him, it's the usual work chatter, so overwhelming, that although he was in the room with us, he was so completely dazed and distracted that if a giraffe had walked in, he wouldn't have noticed.

My own chatter takes over too and sometimes, unknowingly, I get lost in it and feel a general sense of yuckiness; like I'm running a race without wearing a bra and with grocery bags in my hands. But, these days I'm practicing returning to the moment. When the chatter gets too loud, I stop, close my eyes and take inventory of everything I notice through my senses. It sounds a bit like this:

Breath,
breath, breath
cold feet,
sound of fridge,
mint taste
breath, breath,
loosen shoulders
breath,
relax jaw
car alarm
breath

and so on. I do this until I feel myself come back to the present moment. And in that present moment, I realize that in that tiny itty-bitty microsecond, all is well, all is well, all is well and in the next itty-bitty microsecond, all is well. And the chatter fades.

I think we all have this chatter to some degree. Prone to multi-tasking and perfectionism, on most days, my moments of stillness seem like distant kites flying away from me, but I'm okay with that. I just let myself be surprised when I notice, hey, it's loud in here! Let's stop for a bit. Of course, it's easier to do this if you are in a quiet spot, but it's doable anywhere.

When my toddler is screaming his head off demanding I make him pancakes, and I tell him for the umpteenth time that today is not pancake day, I notice the stress rising in my body, and my patience rapidly dwindling. The chatter gets louder and louder: I'm not making pancakes again! Who is the idiot who started this pancake habit?, How will my son ever get proper nutrition eating pancakes everyday?, Why can't I have a peaceful breakfast for once? I'm so tired! I want to go back to bed. Why can't this kid entertain himself long enough so that I can pour myself a cup of coffee?

As soon as notice myself being swept away by this chatter, I seek that teeny-tiny microsecond where all is well. I don't always manage to do this before I've raised my voice or lied that we don't have enough eggs to make pancakes, and most times I don't manage it at all. But when I do, I really do. And this microsecond of stillness and peace adds itself to the other microseconds of stillness I've found before and the next thing you know it gets easier and easier to be in the moment.

Wanna Wear a Cape?

Wearing a cape instantly gives you an air of mystery with a touch of weirdness. When caped people walk by, we subtly do a double take and ask ourselves, why is this person wearing a cape? Hopefully they're in a marching band, or part of a historical reenactment because wearing a cape for no reason is weird, right?

But isn't it cool too? An air of mystery with a touch of weirdness? You're might be wondering why I'm going on about this cape thing? I was just thinking about my inner voice. You know, the part of you that is intact, the way you were as a child. That voice that quietly yet relentlessly reminds you to be authentic when you find yourself being pulled by fears of failure and judgement. There are many ways to hear this little voice, some meditate, pray, journal or abandon themselves to their hobby or passion, but I think that as long as you can be silent for a moment, you can hear it.

When my son naps the house is quiet and I can hear mine asking me to do more art, more drawing, more writing. It wants more laughter, more quirkiness, more silliness, more color and more fun. It calls for simplicity but also for folly. So that's how the cape came to mind. I had a friend in university who wore a dark green, floor length, wool cape. She painted her living room coral pink with huge green palm trees. By the window she had a huge leopard print lounge chair and stacks of books scattered all around. You could tell that she listened to her inner voice and acted on it's desires. Because of this, she was also surrounded by interesting people; inventors, artists, perfumers, writers and designers. I loved hanging out at her place.

It seems we, just as most species on earth seem to be biologically wired to blend in and bond to others to survive and that probably explains why we stop wearing our batman pajamas to school around grade 1. We learn quickly that the weird kids have a hard time making friends and we leave our costumes at home. Over time, because of this, we lose our ability to be who we truly are (which explains why so many of us wear Lululemon yoga uniforms and insist on granite countertops.)

If I am truly honest with myself, I can admit that I am jealous of that friend with the cape, or that man with the tattooed torso, or that neighbor with the Harley, or that kid in pajamas and rubber boots. Because they are listening to their inner voice and acting on it. What could I do today to actualize my inner voice?

a quiet moment on the sofa

Letting Go of Ikea

So it's a cloudy day and I decide to drive to Ikea, check out the new outdoor patio furniture, play in the kids' area with my boy, and stop in for a snack. That's the plan.  I didn't clue in right away when I saw that the kids' play area was shut down that Ikea was undergoing a giant move to their new location across the parking lot. All they had were a few baskets of washcloths, a stack of carpets, some pillows and other small items. I wasn't too disappointed, I figured we could at least stop in for coffee upstairs.  A lady behind me started yelling at the clerk: "What? You mean I drove all the way out here for nothing? Can I talk to your manager? Why didn't you post this on your website? This is f*****ing ridiculous!" I was a bit shocked by her reaction, jeez, take it easy! Upstairs, we lined up for a yogurt and a coffee and when I got to the till...cash only. darn. no cash. no big love at Ikea today.... we headed downstairs to the bank machine, my boy yelling for his yogurt. It was out of service. I asked the woman at the register if she would do cash back. no. I still wasn't really fazed. Where was the universe trying to take me today? Not Ikea that's for sure.

I got in the car, searched for our map book to find an interesting park to go to, but I couldn't find it. Okay. I'm meant to go home or wing it. I decided to wing it! "Let's get lost!" I encouraged my boy who still hadn't quite forgotten about the yogurt. We got on the highway going East, then off, then on again going West. Getting lost is fun. Then I saw the Lulu Island Winery and knew things were turning around. They had a huge selection, but we settled on a blueberry wine. Images of drinking blueberry sangria on my non Ikea patio set popped up in my mind. Yum.

We continued to get lost, and found ourselves in Steveston. The sun came out. Things were definitely turning around. We had a yogurt and a sandwich at a cafe and headed off to the park. We found train tracks, and a mini train, my boy was in heaven! "Thomas! Thomas! I go get it!"

Once I convinced my boy that Thomas was sleeping in a utility shed and wouldn't come out we headed off to the water and enjoyed the fishing boats at the quay. 

Before we headed home, we sampled a delicious raspberry sorbet at the local ice cream store, but just as the lady was scooping it in a bowl, I noticed a sign: Cash Only. Again! I smiled in disbelief. The lady said: "Oh, just search the bottom of you purse, it's only $1.75. " "I've searched the bottom of my purse too many times already, I replied disappointingly. I wasn't about to go around town looking for a bank machine to pay $2.50 in fees for $1.75 sorbet. My boy was seriously disagreeing with this plan. The lady smiled at me, filled a bowl and said " It's on the house." Wow! What a great day!  Thank you, frustrated lady at Ikea for reminding to go with the flow.