Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Kristina Ritzman, R.N.

That's right, I'm a Real Nurse.  I took the NCLEX licensing exam on Tuesday and, like every other graduate to take the test before me, was sure I'd failed.  

Without divulging any information about what was on the test (for they will hunt me down and strip me of my license if I even drop a hint), I should explain the nature of the test.  The test is anywhere between 75 and 265 questions.  Once you reach the "magical score" that determines that you are a safe nurse, the test shuts off.  Also, if you answer enough questions incorrectly to determine that your are dangerously unsafe, the test shuts off.  So you don't really know which unless you were totally ace-ing the test.

My test shut off after question 75.  Up to that point, I encountered many questions to which I hadn't a clue as to the correct answer.  Thus, I doubted my performance.

I drove home in a daze and curled up on the couch for a few hours until my visiting teacher Wendy came to take me out to lunch, as we had arranged the week before when she learned I would be taking the test of my life on Tuesday.  We went out to a nice restaurant, Seasons & Regions, and she contrived to distract me from useless worrying for an hour or so.

Then, back to fretting.  I checked the OSBN website a couple dozen times during the day, knowing full well that my license wouldn't show up the same day, but unable to do ought else.  It was during my haunting of the OSBN website that I came across the success of a classmate (you can look anybody up in the state of Oregon) who passed, one who was a total slacker throughout nursing school!  So, I felt a bit more confident.  If this clown could pass the NCLEX, so could I!

I woke up earlier than necessary the next morning and again checked the website.  And Glory Be, there was both my CNA license listed and my RN license!  Making me a bona fide Registered Nurse in the state of Oregon.

In retrospect, it's been a long four years (counting from when I decided to go to nursing school and got my CNA license), and I know I have much to learn in the upcoming months and year, but I'm glad to be over that particular hurdle, one that has been haunting me since I learned about it almost two years ago.

Up next: my ONC certification next year!

If you want to see my name in all it's registered glory, just type in "Ritzman" as the last name here.

Thank you everyone who has supported me or even just put up with me through this journey.  I love you all!

Friday, September 19, 2008

Pop, pop

Our freezer was full.  Full of frozen chicken, steak, sorbet, and last year's berries.  We didn't pick enough berries this year to replace them, and they weren't being accessed due to the brick-like form they had taken on over the last thirteen months.  Throw them out?  Never!  I hand-picked many of those berries myself, lovingly plucking the sun-ripened jewels from the thorny vine.  So, since I had no fresh berries with which to make my Second Annual Jam Batch, I thought I'd take a gamble on some forfeit and hopefully not frostbitten berries; creating some much needed room in our freezer at the same time.

So I thawed them.  A bag of raspberries and a bag of marion berries (a unique variety to the Northwest) brought me five cups after draining the juice/water.  Alas, the recipe called for six cups!  What's a girl to do?  I'm already pushing my luck with the soft thawed berries.  I considered my options: (1) drive to the store and pick up a pint of something, (2) bike to the store and pick up a pint of something (I promised James I would bike at least three times this week), or (3) *hallelujah!* I could go outside and pick some blackberries!  Blackberries are indigenous and ubiquitous here in the northwest, and there were at least a cup growing in my "front yard" (meaning, the parking lot of the apartment complex).

I totally washed them, don't worry.

Anyway, I made up the jam (have yet to clean the jam-splatters off the stovetop) and am now listening to the delightful *pop, pop* of the cooling jars as they seal, encasing the Various Berry '08 Jam (James suggested the name) for enjoyment throughout the year.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Brazil: heading home

Apologies for the delay in posting this; studying for the NCLEX has consumed my time since returning.  But that's another post...

James got up extra early (remember, we went to bed after midnight the night before, and out of principle I am not a morning person) and took a bus downtown to retrieve his old passport from the Consulate.  An hour or two after he left, I woke up to the sound of rain.  It had gotten cooler the previous evening, but we were secretly hoping that we would be able to visit the sun-drenched beach one last time before we flew back to the cool Northwest.  Well, the beaches were drenched, just not in sunshine.

We made an early trip to the grocery store so James could stock up on his favorite foods from Brazil, such as Guarana and grape Fanta sodas (the cane-sugar grape Fanta in Brazil is infinitely superior to the HFCS grape Fanta in the U.S., in spite of what the Corn Growers Association of America says), sandwich cookies, and bonbons to share with friends and fam.

We got back to the apartment and packed our things and then left them with our landlord so he could get our room cleaned for his next tenants, and went to do some last-minute shopping and get a bite to eat.  It being our last day (and our luggage already being stuffed) we refused to buy umbrellas, and instead just got a bit wet.  No worse than Portland in the fall, except that we didn't even have long sleeved shirts.  No worries, though.  We went back to a used-book store down the street, where I got a few children's books to practice my Portuguese, and James got some more advanced reading.  We also got some t-shirts and a good quality stitched Brazilian flag.  All nice, flat things that our almost-bursting suitcase could accommodate.  

Then we decided to splurge and go to Bob's Burgers, a Brazilian fast food chain reminiscent of its American cousins.  I say "splurge" because one can get a fairly filling lunch for two at one of the luncheonettes for under R$10, but it cost us about R$25 for two burgers (my chicken burger was good, but all dark meat), one medium fries, and two shakes.  Fast food is more of an American luxury there, and I think I'll stick to Brazilian luncheonettes on my next trip.  On the other hand, the service was way better than you get at McDonald's.

Translation: "Bob's. Brazilians like you enjoy it."

James ordering a meal.

The selection.  Expensive even after the currency exchange.

As we had no sun-drenched beach to relax upon, we decided to hop on a bus and get to the airport a bit early.  We figured that we could at least hole up someplace dry and watch movies on my laptop.  The airport is this big, concrete building that looks like it was built in a Communist nation during the Cold War Era.  We got checked in (which only took a little extra time, considering James's multiple passport problem) and after finding our gate (insanely easy, as there were only about four), we went in search of an outlet.  After much searching and a asking a nice security guard (who told us the Portuguese word for "electrical outlet"), we were directed to the ONLY public electrical outlet in the entire International Departures area of the airport.  Again, I think this place was built in the '50s, when nobody had laptops or cell phone chargers.  In any case, I went to plug in my laptop, and the outlet was so old and my surge-protector plug was so heavy that it just fell out the the socket.  Drat.  Fortunately, James was able to jury-rig a solution with some rubber bands, supplied by a friendly airline clerk.  So we watched movies until it was time to board our flight.

Ahh, ingenuity!

The flight from Rio to São Paulo, and then from São Paulo to Houston, was as comfortable as a nearly-full, 16-hour flight can be.  We made the best of it.  On the other hand, the flight from Houston to Portland had one empty seat, and it was next to us!  A guy stuck between two elderly people (okay, let me preface this with the fact that a senior citizen group had taken over at least a third of the plane to go to the casino near Lincoln City) wanted to move to it, but I pulled the whiny-witch-who's-been-traveling-for-18-hours-already card and he played the southern-Texan-gentleman card, stayed where he was and made polite conversation about his neighbor's grandkids while I stretched out and slept.  Score!  Also, this plane was equipped with electrical plugs at certain seats, and our semi-occupied row was the lucky winner.  Double score!

We had to claim our luggage in Houston for Customs.  
These are the ghosts of lost luggage past, forced to haunt the baggage claim forever.

So we arrived home to sunny skies (take that, Rio!) and a MAX waiting to shuttle us to our home-bound bus.  We were welcomed home by a very stressed kitty (who got over it after a few days).

Take me with you, next time!

Summed up: Best Vacation Ever.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Brazil: a day of fellowship

Today being Sunday, Felippe invited us to attend his ward, in the town of Itaboraí, about 50 km to the east of Rio.  We were going to just take the bus, but he and his father, Wilson, insisted on meeting us downtown and driving us over, about a 45 minute drive.  Today also being Brazil's Independence day, we saw many tanks and military police standing about, preparing for the Independence Day Demonstration (I didn't get to see it, so I don't know if it could qualify as a "parade").

Their ward had Relief Society/Priesthood first, so I went with Felippe's mother to RS.  As she didn't speak English and I didn't understand her Portuguese, all I could do was shake my head in apology and say "Eu não entendo."  After the lesson started, it was all moot.  The lesson, via my keen understanding of RS visual aides, was about food storage.  In Sunday School (in the "Escola por membros antigos" or "school for ancient members" - a.k.a. Gospel Doctrine) James translated much of what was being said.  We discussed the Saints in the Americas circa the birth of Christ.

The third hour was, of course, Sacrament Meeting, which took place in the beautiful and air conditioned (!!) chapel.  It being fast Sunday, James was kind and patient enough with me to give me the gist of most of the testimonies, with a line-by-line translation of Felippe's testimony.

We met many members, one of whom happened to be wearing one of James's old ties, handed from James to Felippe to Sérgio.  Good ol' missionary ties!  We also met the ward mission leader, Jorge, who was planning a baptism and asked us if we'd be willing to sing a hymn in English during the "waiting for the new member to get dried off" intermission.  As we didn't have an English hymnal, I quickly jotted down the words to "Lead Kindly Light" and we made out pretty well.  I only had to make up a couple of lines that I couldn't remember, and I don't think anyone noticed.

After the baptism, we piled into the back of Wilson's station wagon with Jorge and his wife, while Felippe rode shotgun to another member's house for a barbecue.  Also joining the party (but not in the car - it was already stuffed beyond seatbelt capacity) were Russell, an American, his wife Gabriella, a Brazilian, and our host, Fernando, and his wife and little girl, Cíntia and Maria Fernanda, and later Cíntia's sister, Lauren.  Quite a party for a little apartment! 

Most of the party at Fernando's house

We sat around the table feasting on all sorts of barbecued meat (pork, beef, chicken, linguiça sausage, and chicken hearts), rice, Brazilian pico de gallo, soda, and a unique (but good!) potato salad consisting of potatoes, carrots, mayo, green olives, and raisins.  I had more than two helpings (albeit small helpings).

Brazilian meat tastes so good!

The spread. The meat tricked in throughout the meal.

Silly boys.

But the coup de grace would have to be dessert.  Fernando threw some bananas on the grill, still in their peels, and Lauren then extracted the cooked fruit and sprinkled it with cinnamon-sugar before adding a scoop of vanilla ice cream with chocolate flakes.  Ambrosia!  I took a risk on appearing rude and accepted seconds.  Yum!

Sweet heaven.

We sat around Fernando and Cíntia's apartment, visiting and sharing stories from one until around 6:30 in the evening, when Jorge had to go to work, so Fernando took James, myself and Felippe to Felippe's house so that Wilson (who hadn't attended the barbecue) could drive us back into town.

We ended up not going immediately back into town, but were entertained by Felippe and his father for several hours.  We were given a tour of their very nice house, including a great fruit orchard (and a sick guard dog) and a coconut tree, which Wilson instructed Felippe to pick some coconuts from so they could treat us to the tasty liquid inside.  We visited (well, I mostly sat quietly and got the occasional interpretation, but that was fine) late into the night, until Felippe's mother Fatima came home with banana bread for all.  

Felippe handing off a coconut for drinking.

Felippe, Wilson, Fatima, me, James

As it was after ten by this point, Wilson offered to let us stay over, but since we hadn't brought our toothbrushes (or more importantly, James's contact case), we politely declined and then felt guilty as they all piled into the car with us for the hour drive back to our apartment, but Wilson insisted on driving us.  They dropped us off at around midnight, and then made their way back home, probably to wake up early the next day for work.  I'm honestly amazed and awed by the generosity and hospitality of these people, both Felippe's family, as well as Fernando's.  What a blessing to have met such good friends, even if we don't (as of yet) speak the same language!

A beautiful painting of the São Paulo temple hanging 
in the dining room of the Forte residence.
The closest temple to them is a six hour drive, which makes 
me feel guilty for not attending the Portland Temple as often.

Saturday, September 6, 2008

Brazil: a day of crowds

Today we took another stab at the feiras, this time going to an antique market downtown.  This feira only happens once a month and bears a lot more semblance to the Pearl's First Thursday than the other tourist-trap kitch markets had been.  Within minutes, we found many original treasures that we would love to bring home, including my "souvenir earrings" that has been a tradition for me in my travels for many years.

Unfortunately, due to our skepticism, we had not brought any money with us beyond bus fare.  Thus began an hour long quest for an open ATM that would distribute international cash.  James referred to it as the Death March, and I gamely trudged along because I wanted those earrings!

The quest began with several Brazilians pointing James in several different directions (once, we were surrounded by at least half a dozen people, all talking at once and each pointing in a different direction).  In our journey, we passed by an open pub where a local patron, upon seeing James wearing the local Fútbol team jersey, the Flamengos, insisted on buying us beers.  We said we were in a hurry, so he ordered them "to-go" in plastic cups, so we were able to dispose of them around the corner (he was very insistent!).  After 45 minutes of walking in the Brazilian sun and about five ATMs, we got our cash and returned to the feira.


The Antiques Market

We saw the Lapa Arches on our Death March.  They used to be an aqueduct, 
now the trolley runs over them on its way to Santa Theresa

I not only got the earrings and matching necklace that I had originally spied, but also another pair of earrings carved from coconut, and James got an old wood carving of a village scene.  We saw many beautiful paintings, jewelry, antiques and crafts.  I'm sure Antiques Roadshow would have had a heyday here.  There was lots of gorgeous old hardwood furniture and marble sculptures, china and silver probably imported from Europe decades ago, and newer (and older) paintings of the Brazil countryside.  I began to regret that I'd brought such a small suitcase!

Beautiful sculpture

I liked this painting!  
What does one wear when one is washing their clothes?

Me in front of one of the jewelry booths.

Some of the jewelry at the shop I got my necklace and earrings.

Some beautiful paintings.

We arrived back to our apartment mid-afternoon and hurried to catch the remaining sun on the beach.  By this time, a strong wind had picked up on the coast, but that didn't deter us, or anyone else, it seems!  It being Saturday, the beach was very crowded, but we managed to find a clear spot to enjoy the sun and the waves. There was a group of about five "gangster-type" fellows sitting near us, also enjoying the day at the beach. One of them spent some time posing for photos taken by his buddy, possibly to post on his website and show what a stud he was. We were highly amused, mostly because his "tough guy" ensemble composed of a bucket hat and a pair of sagging capri jeans. Appropriate maybe for Rio gangstas, but I don't think it would have quite the same effect in NoPo.
Too cool for long pants.

The waves were more wild and aggressive than I had seen in previous days, so we just stayed on the beach.  At one point a large crowd gathered, looking out into the sea.  A beach vendor explained that someone had gotten caught out in the ocean and a couple of young men were bringing him in.  All the more reason to stay in our lawn chairs and enjoy the sun and breeze.  We did watch to make sure the kid (he was probably 16) was okay when he arrived back on shore.  Exhausted, and maybe a bit sheepish, but he was breathing just fine.

Some guys in black speedos watching the rescue effort.  
You can see the rescuers in the water between the two kids on the left.

Fun at the beach!  Those are my coconut souvenir earrings.

After things started to cool down sufficiently to warrant leaving the beautiful beach, we returned to the apartment to change before dinner.  And there were bugs in our room!  Now, don't get me wrong; I expected bugs when I came to Brazil.  I brought a large bottle of bug repellant.  But this was the first sign of domestic bugs that I had seen in almost a week.  And they looked like termites.  So we double checked the wood carving that James had bought (and then put it in the fridge to avoid contamination), and informed our landlord of the problem.

Then we went out for dinner (ham and cheese roll and açaí!) and dessert.  We saw more of the bugs on the outside of the dessert counter of the cafe, so James asked about it, and the lady said that they come out in this kind of weather (cool and windy) and that they're really harmless; not the "devour your house" kind of termites.  We were relieved (although, I think we forgot to reassure our landlord . . . oh well) and ordered a couple of sweets.  Upon eating mine, I remembered James telling me how Brazilians like their desserts small and super sweet.  Too sweet!  I couldn't finish my jelly roll.  I think in the future, I'll stick with cookies, which I know are good!

Ham + cheese + bread = Yum!  
Think  really good, handmade Hot Pocket.

Açaí!

Friday, September 5, 2008

Brazil: a day of markets

Today we went to the local street markets, or feiras.  The first market, the Centro Comercial, was surprisingly lame.  A lot of black market electronics (I saw a "Sony PolyStation"), clothing and media.  We did get one or two things, but it wasn't really the souvenir market we had anticipated.  It was also super crowded and easy to get lost in.  So we decided to go by another market, but first we wanted to see the Nossa Senhora da Candelária Catholic Church.

I gotta say - Brazilians know how to do Catholic right!  Nothing against USA Catholics (of which I am related to not a few), but when you combine statues like the Christo Redentor statue we saw Monday, the conical church from Tuesday's adventure, and this, I'm thoroughly impressed:

The main dome.

I was entranced by this angel - what nobility.

Beautiful.

They literally had a roll of red carpet by the door, 
to "roll out" when dignitaries visited, I suppose.

The view from the door.

The other feira, the Feira Nordestina, was little better but each shop seemed to sell the same stuff.  We did manage to get stuff for our mamas.  One thing that cracked me up was this statue outside the feira of a guy named Lampião playing the accordion.  According to James, this guy was Brazil's version of Billy the Kid, or maybe Bonnie and Clyde, since he apparently roamed the countryside in a lawless manner with his wife, Maria Bonita.  Also, the accordion is apparently a much more dignified instrument in Brazil - visualize a statue of Billy the Kid playing the guitar or harmonica, I suppose.

Me and Lampião

These were very nice painted dolls, 
but there were at least a thousand of them at this market.

The jersey I wouldn't let James buy.

We got pretty hungry shopping, so we stopped and had some carne de sol (grilled, sun dried meat - moister than jerky) and aipim frita (fried cassava root).  Pretty darned good!  While we were eating, I was tempted to light up a cigarette, but then I saw this ad, which put me straight:

Check out the diseased gums.  
Their Surgeon General is much more hard core than ours!  

Yum!

We took a break from shopping to check out a nice park with some interesting flora and get a view of the Maracanã stadium, one of the largest stadiums in the world, seating over 200,000 people.  I was tired, so we only saw it from afar, and then went home to rest and change. 

This was a crazy tree with giant pods that apparently 
would pop open and reveal beautiful flowers.

The aforementioned flowers.  
They look like they have an under-bite.

This was as close to the Maracanã as we got (me sitting on the lawn).

Here's a better picture of the Maracanã, 
taken from the hill Corcovado (on Monday)

That evening, we decided to take one last shot at shopping for the day, but by the time we arrived (around 7 pm), they were all closing shop.  On the upside, we did catch the tail end of a big outdoor used book sale nearby.  James got the book Olga, which was the base for the Brazilian movie of the same name, about a Jewish German during WWII who escaped to Brazil and became involved in the revolution there.  Good movie; I hope he enjoys the book.

Our lunch reserves had run out, so we got dinner, whereat James introduced me to . . . açaí . . . mmmmm!  Açaí is a fruit from Brazil that is just making it's debut here in the states, but the way they serve it is unique.  Think smoothie meets sorbet.  It's softer than sorbet, but they serve it in a big bowl, with granola on the side.  We shared a big bowl of the heavenly nectar and a ham and cheese roll and called it good.  (We didn't have our camera with us at this point, so I'll get pictures later in the week.)

We then decided we needed at least one taste of the Rio night life in the famous Lapa district. We had been warned to leave any valuables at home, so no pictures, sorry.  We did get to hear some nice samba music, though.  We wandered around the streets for a bit, and James heard some nice music coming from a crowded restaurant.  As we were still full from the açaí, we sat down and just had two guaranas, much to the irritation of the server (he still opened and poured our sodas per Brazilian food service protocol, but he did so in a very terse manner). They charged us a cover charge to listen to the band, so I don't feel bad about not ordering food.

Oh, and good news!!  When we got home, James had gotten an email from the US Consulate saying that his passport had been turned it!  So we'll pick it up Monday morning before we fly out.  It's not valid anymore, since he was issued a new temporary one on Tuesday, but he was really bummed about not having all the stamps from various trips, including his mission.  Oh, and the visa!

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Brazil: a day of perspective

Today, we went on a tour of two of Rio's favelas, or shanty towns.  It was through a reputable company called Favela Tour, which according to the brochure is "informative and surprising[ly] not voyeuristic."  We were in ten-passenger van with our tour guide, Alfredo, the driver, Elvis, and six British people (two couples and a pair of young ladies).  Other than the natives, James was the only one who spoke any Portuguese.  At one point in the tour, we stopped by a local bar and (it being a very hot day), James ordered us two guarana sodas (so good, by the way!  I didn't truly appreciate the allure until drinking one ice-cold on a swelteringly hot Brazil afternoon), and one of the couples asked us what it was we were drinking (they had gotten water, those poor saps), as they'd seen it in their mini-bar but were unsure as to what it was.  I've never been so smugly satisfied that I came here with someone who knew the local language and culture!

Anyway, back to the favela tour.  Alfredo related the various economic and other disparities between the classes in Brazil, much of which James had already related to me when referencing his mission or his classes in Latin American studies, but this time it was presented in a thick Brazilian accent over a PA system in a van full of semi-interested Britons.  He addressed problems with public education, healthcare, sanitation, and employment, as well as touching on politics near the end of the tour.  He took us on a tour of an after school program in one of the favelas, a sort of grass-roots project akin to Head Start to better prepare kids for the college entrance exam and other important life-altering hurtles for the under-privileged.  The price of the tour was quite a bit higher than I expected for a van ride around the slums, but when we learned that 75% of the school's funding came from the tours, I decided not to grumble.  The kids also make crafts which, when sold, earn 50% of the profit for the kid's family, and the other 50% goes back into supporting the school.  In addition to the after-school program, we stopped by a place to buy souvenirs made in the favelas (though since we only stopped there for 10 minutes, we didn't buy anything), through several neighborhoods, and the aforementioned bar.

My thoughts on the favelas: (1) They were much more permanent structures than I had imagined based on what James had told me.  There were solid buildings with tiles and separate rooms, radios playing, and cement stairs and sidewalks between buildings.  (2) There was a more ethnically diverse population than I had anticipated.  True, there were more people with African heritage there than elsewhere, but I also saw many people with more light-Mulatto appearance.  Our tour guide was still the lightest person (excepting the eight extremely white tourist) in the favelas that I saw.  (3) There was a lot more trash than I expected.  When we rounded the corner from the American School (the most prestigious private school in Rio) to Rocinha (the largest favela in Rio) the mounds of trash were overwhelming.  I don't know why I thought that 60,000 people would somehow produce tidy little cans of trash, placed on their non-existant street corners every Tuesday night.  Perhaps I thought that, being poor, they would use things out more efficiently, like Native Americans using every part of the buffalo, and therefore produce very little trash.  In any case, I was wrong.  Alfredo related how sanitation was a major problem, in spite of the city paying some residents to manage the trash collection.  We were even passed by some construction equipment (quite a feat on the narrow, winding roads there) carrying trash out of the favela, but nothing they do is enough.  The trash just keeps piling up, sometimes in pre-determined trash-piling areas, sometimes not.  (4) Not everyone on the favelas is poor.  Alfredo related that many people living in the favelas were considered middle class by Brazilian standards, but continue to live in the favelas either because they're established and they have community there, or to perhaps raise others up by staying in the community.  Or maybe because living in Rio is so expensive that even middle class would have a hard time making ends meet outside the favelas.  Brazil has a squatters law that if you build a house and live there for five years, it's yours and no one can kick you out.

The view from the rooftop of one of the favela homes, illustrating the contrast between the favelas and the high-rise condominiums.  The favelas are built on the hillsides (more at risk for mudslides) and therefore command some of the best views of the city.
 
Street in a favela.  Note the pirated electricity from the power lines (on the right).

Typical Rio favela homes.

Walkway between favela homes - so much more common than actual streets.


Anyway, a thoroughly enlightening morning.  So how did we employ our new-found perspective?  James bought me a more Brazilian swimsuit (caution: photo below - it isn't quite as spectacular on my pale bod as it would be on a bronzed Brazilian), we bummed around the beach all afternoon, and then went out for Lebanese food that evening.  I love Rio!

Two pale people

James on the the famous Copacabana walkway

Gorgeous view of the beach and ocean

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Brazil: um dia sen compromiso

Translation: "a day without obligations."  We woke up late and just lazed about the apartment for a while, snacking on yogurt and crackers.  Then off to the beach!  We briefly visited the beach on our arrival day, but this was the first real visit, with swimsuits and sunscreen.  I can't believe it took me this long into our trip to get out to the beach, a mere two blocks from our apartment!  Of course, if I'd discovered the luxury of lying on a Brazilian beach any earlier, I probably never would have seen the sites of the last few days.  (Heck, if I'd found out early enough, I may have never made it through nursing school!)

We got some towels from a local shop and made our way to the beach, where we rented two beach chairs and an umbrella for R$9 total (about $6 in today's exchange).  We then just relaxed on the beach for the better part of the afternoon; from noon until the sun hid behind the hills and skyscrapers, between 4 and 5 pm.  We each took a dip in the Atlantic, which was about swimming-pool temperature, but mostly we people watched.  Because of our obvious American look (I don't know how they knew, since I've seen some very European-looking Cariocas, or residents of Rio, but Felippe says we stand out like sore thumbs) we were constantly being accosted by vendors of food, beverage, clothing, swimsuits (a strange place to sell them; if you didn't already have one, how would you try it on?), jewelry, henna tatoos, and paintings, to which we replied "Não, obrigada" (No, thanks) so often that I started feeling like I knew Portuguese after all.  Anyway, words cannot describe what pictures can portray:

Ah, the beach!

Relaxing on the sand.

This kid was having so much fun!

"Matte de Leão!" (Iced tea)

Playing in the waves.

Since James didn't get after me for my Felippe-crush, I let him take some pictures to brag to his office-mates back home.

This kid ran his daddy ragged trying to get him in the water!  What fun!

Speedo James!  It's all the rage in Brazil!

We got home with only minor sunburns added to those from previous days (we each missed a few spots with the sunscreen) but a feeling of bliss that can only come from a day in the sun!