Sitting at the Kid's Table in Paradise

Oh neglected blog....I apologize. I'm making a vow today to blog at least once a week, even if I don't find my life all that interesting. Maybe someone else will. Now on with it.

So if any of you are FB friends, you know that, yes, we took another vacation, which in itself deserves a little explanation. It all started with a business trip for David to Buenos Aires with the kids and I tagging along, which was then canceled. It was seconded with the fact that the kids had the entire week before Easter off and the apartment is still virtually empty. So instead of going completely crazy with boredom and disappointment, we called our Brazilian travel agent for a short R&R trip close to home - the destnation, an inland resort a mere hour and a half from the city.

The kids and I left on wednesday at 3pm, planning to meet David at his office and continue the second half together. FIVE hours later, the kids and arrived at Paradise Lake and Golf Resort without David, starving, stressed out and wondering where David had gotten himself lost at. Needless to say, the plan didn't happen as planned, as our plan was the same as the other 10 million people fleeing the city for Easter. The drive itself could be it's own post, but I'll just say these couple of things instead. It involved road side vendors able to prepare and serve complete meals carside as the traffic inched along, Aidan peeing in a ziploc bag, and discovering the headlights on David's car pointed down to the ground instead of straight ahead.

I've never been so glad to arrive somewhere alive in my life and it must have shown on my face when we pulled up. From that minute forward, the resort handled everything. I mean everything... from the luggage, the car, the check-in, to the sleeping Camryn in the back seat. They took us to our room, escorted us to the dining room, and brought David to us when he arrived. They must have known I needed to be taken care.

The rest of our stay was exactly what we all needed, but not at all what we were expecting. The first night, we were shown to the dining room where a full buffet was served, somewhat like a cruise ship, a little of everything. It was very quiet, the service was superb, and we ate until we couldn't eat another bite. In morning, David called room service to order up our 6 am coffee. "Cafe completa?", he translated to me. Sure, I replied. he left out two critical words "de manha". 45 minutes later, when we're wondering what was taking so long for coffee, a knock on the door brought not just coffee, but a complete breakfast- 15 plates worth of food. David ordered cafe de manha completa, a full breakfast.

We still ventured to dining room to check out the spread, which was more extensive than our room service and the kids met the "Kid's Club". We knew they had activities for kids, but we didn't know that at 8:30 every morning, we could leave our children in the dining room and not see them again until 6 pm. And that's exactly what happened for the next three days. David and I spent our time relaxing by the pool, exercising, getting massages and reading. We even fought over my Kindle. We would track the kids down here and there and see if they wanted to hang out with us, but the answer was always no. We even had the option of sending them back to the club from 8-11pm. We were selfish and kept them with us, except for the last night, which we sent Aidan off and he returned to the room at 11.

Now for the reason of the post title. On our second day, as we were eating dinner in the dining room, we noticed that all the forks were now small, the cups plastic, and the diners children and/or nannies, but because we Americans eat much earlier than the Brazilians, we just thought we were there before the real dinner began. The food was not kid food and the spread extensive so we didn't think much of it. By eight o'clock we were all in bed.

Not until day three, did we realize we had been dining in the "infantile" dining room for two full days- the dining room set-up specifically for kids and their nannies, the kids club staff, and any parents that wanted to feed their children before they turned them over to "Kids Club" for the night. The next day, we found the real dining room, with real glasses, no nannies, no "Kid's Club", and big forks. The food was more extensive, but no better than the infantile fare, which is another great thing about Brazil. Children do not eat from a kid's menu, so at least we hadn't compromised on food, we just didn't have as many choices.

I really hadn't been excited about the trip. It wasn't Buenos Aires. Instead, it gave David and I a chance to spend some time alone together, I didn't have to worry about where and what we were eating, and the kids spent four days with "friends". I guess we all needed a little space and a breath of fresh air.

On Easter Sunday we decided to hit the road early to avoid sitting in traffic for five hours again. For once Mother Nature rallied behind us and made the weather cloudy with a cool breeze blowing off the lake. It would have been hard to leave Paradise otherwise. We zipped back to city and hoped for a restaurant open on Easter Sunday. Lucky for us, it's business as usual on Easter in Brazil. So off we went to Pizza Hut, our first American pizza since December...And boy did it taste good. Even paradise gets old after a while.

Date with the Doctor

Yesterday morning, I awoke feeling like I had hardly slept. Between eating a late dinner and being anxious about my doctor's appointment, my mind and body battled it out until the wee hours. I spent most of those awake hours stressing about everything that could go wrong on Thursday when I had my first endocrinologist appointment in Brazil. Most had nothing to do with the actual health.

You see, in Brazil, it's the logistics surrounding events that truly make me anxious.

Let's start with actually getting the appointment. As very few people in Brazil speak a word of English, I recruited my friend Beth, who is fluent in Portuguese to call and make the appointment. After making the call, she called me laughing, as the receptionist spoke fluent English and could help me directly. One hurdle crossed.

Dr. Medieros ( usually booked several months out) had a cancellation in a week and it was given to me. Second hurdle crossed.

First obstacle- it was on Thursday at 4, the worst day of the week and at a very bad time. To keep the appointment, David would have to come home from work so I could drive his car because mine is illegal to drive from 5-8pm on Thursdays, not to mention someone being home for the kids at 4:30.

David promised he would make it home so I could leave by 3 to make the six mile drive to the Dr.'s office. Yes, in Sao Paulo, it can take an hour or more to go five miles.

Next obstacle, "How to Pay". In Brazil, all medical care is "pay that day" in cash, no credit cards, no insurance. After paying for your visit, you then file a claim with the insurance for reimbursement. I knew the consultation fee was $500 and assumed there would be many tests involved. I needed a lot of cash, which David reassured me he would bring home.

I spent the day before the appointment dodging the maid, trying to squeeze in a shower, and fasting for the blood work. David made it home at three with the money and the car and I headed out to Jardins, the same neighborhood where the kids go to school. As expected, traffic was heavy, slow and chaotic and I was driving David's car which is by far one of the biggest cars on the road here. As I squeezed my way down the five lane road which is officially three lanes, the minutes ticked by and I made it to the office five minutes late, which is early in Brazil.

Anticipating lots of paperwork to complete, I had all my history and insurance info ready to jot down.

First big surprise, no preliminary paper work. The receptionist wrote down my name, address, phone number and email and asked me to wait in the lobby. That's when I heard the typewriter. It's funny how foreign the sound of a typewriter is these days. I felt like I was in a time warp.

After a short wait , I was called back by the English speaking receptionist, a tiny older lady in a very proper business suit with tiny glasses perched on her nose. She introduced me to Solange, the nurse who spoke no English and the receptionist stayed to translate between the two of us. First translation- remove all your clothes and step onto the scale.

First pause - I wait for them to leave me with the paper gown. They stand and wait. "All my clothes? Right now?", I say, sure I misunderstood something. They shook their heads.

Second big surprise, they were going nowhere and there was no paper gown, but I think they said I could keep on my underwear. Yes, apparently in Brazil, you undress in front of medical personnel while they watch.

Thinking surely something has been lost in translation and they were going to stop me, I proceeded to undress very slowly, folding all my clothes neatly on the chair. They stood patiently and waited while I stripped down to just my underwear. Nurse Solange then weighed, measured, and took my vitals. I kept thinking that this must be how it feels to be abducted by aliens for research. Eventually I was told to get dressed to wait for the doctor.

This gave me a few minutes to reflect why I hadn't taken the time to shave every inch of my body, wear my prettiest panties and douse myself with perfumed lotion. Maybe because this is a thyroid doctor and they usually don't pay much attention below your shoulders!

I won't bore you with all the medical details, but will say that Dr. Medieros was all I hoped he would be - kind, thorough, knowledgable, and an excellent English speaker. It was a little strange to have a male doctor put his hand into my bra to listen to my heart (especially one who looks like a Grandpa), but I was so grateful to be completely dressed, it was a small discomfort in comparison. Plus, in Brazil, doctors greet their new patients with a warm embrace and two kisses on the cheeks, so I felt we already knew each other.

Other than also wishing I had a fresh pedicure for the radiologist who had to rub down my foot with cream before the bone density test, the rest of the appointment went by without too much embarrassment.

When the sweet receptionist presented me the $3000+ bill, I was comfortably seated and fully dressed, sparing me from falling naked to the floor. Needless to say, I did not have $3000 in my wallet. I envisioned where I would spend the night- in jail or the examining room until David could bring me more money. Instead, they held my badly needed Synthroid prescription hostage and allowed me to return next Tuesday with the ransom for my results and the drugs.

After all that, I drove home in Sao Paulo rush hour (where the aforementioned five lanes had morphed into six) feeling exhausted, weak, and starved, but feeling relieved and enlightened as well. So this is why Brazilian woman always smell good, are known for there pretty lingerie, and are famous for the Brazilian wax- it's because they never want to be caught with ugly underwear, hairy legs, dry skin and chipped toenails. Who knew you should treat a Dr.s appointment like a date night with your hubby. Another lesson learned for next time. I'll be prepared for my follow-up Tuesday. I better start getting ready now.