Joining a Health Club in Brazil: They Don't Make it Easy

This is a post about something you can only experience in a place outside the "first world.'' It illustrates a microcosm of Brazil's famous bureaucracy, in this case, surrounding the joining of a health club.....

So, what's a mom of two elementary-age kids not enrolled in school and bored out of their minds to do? Join the local swimming pool! Easier said than done here is Rio de Janeiro.

Mind you, this is not Ipanema, or even Niteroi. This is Cocota, and they do things old school here in the 'hood.

There are three main hurdles to becoming a member of the Cocota Sports Club. First, you must pay, and the payment must be made in a specific way. There's the membership charge, which is good through infinity and is non-transferable. Then there are monthly charges, which must be paid separately by check. Pre-written checks for the first three months must be handed over upon joining.

The second requirement for membership is that the principal club member must be a MAN over the age of 18. No, I'm not joking. Must be a man. Said man can then bring along a herd of females if he chooses, but the chief club member must be male.

The third hurdle, upon which the other two are contingent, is that each member must procure a medical exam. The exam costs $10 reals, or less than $5. It is given by a visiting physician on Tuesday and Saturday evenings only. No exam, no pool.

This Tuesday night it happened to be raining cats and dogs, and I happened to be wearing an ace bandage because I twisted my ankle earlier in the day. It's 7:45. My husband, who has been working on this membership thing all day, announces suddenly that we four have to walk to the club immediately for the exams, or there will be no pool tomorrow, which would be a minor emergency. For days, we have been promising them a respite from the heat and a place to play. So, out we go into the rain, me dragging my foot; the girls delighted to be using their beautiful new umbrellas; Alfredo tense and paranoid someone will hear us speaking English.

To get through to the Doctor's exam room, we have to walk all the way through the club. People give us musing looks. It's a bit late to be out with kids and in rain like this. And there is an obvious foreignness to us: we a bit too tall, a bit too blond to fit in.

The doctor looks to be in his late 20s. He writes our names down neatly in pencil on a sheet of notebook paper; 19), 20) 21). One by one, he asks the children to spread their fingers apart and hold their hands out, then turn them upside down, again with fingers spread out. He demonstrates himself first, so the girls know what to do. Then he asks to see the bottom of each foot. Perhaps to see if their are webbed?

Satisfied that no one has leprosy, he stamps our pieces of paper, and we are now officially allowed in the pool once it opens tomorrow. Unless, of course, rain delays the promised pool another day.

Back in Time

This is a beautiful fazenda built in the 1850s. The owner's great grandfather built it and ran it as a farm producing milk and coffee. The owner told us that 100 slaves or so once worked the property.

Here's a view from the "backyard."

This is the kind of foliage that really evokes the classic idea of Brazil for me...

   We hiked to a river and met a fisherman here who had just caught a huge fish -- think it's a trout.

 The girls became fast friends with Antonio, the son of the fazenda owners. He found a cow's skull on our hike. Yipes.

 

 Maddy found a baby turtle and Paloma made friends with a bunny.

Unexpected Con for Rio: Air Pollution

I really want to write about the amazing 150-year-old fazenda where we spent last weekend, but before I do, I have to report the appalling air quality here.  In the past decade as the economy in Brazil has exploded, people are buying cars. And that means pollution. I first noticed the smog hanging over Rio when we went to take the boat from Ilha do Governador to Centro last week. I sort of tried to mentally shrug it off, telling myself maybe it was just a particularly bad day. But, no.

After being here for 2 weeks, I can confirm that it is bad. Really bad.

If I'm in traffic -- even in a car with A/C going full boar -- I feel the irritation in my nose, mouth and throat. Rio is rated about on par with Los Angeles for ozone, but somehow it seems worse here. Maybe cause traffic has increased so much. Ahhh, the price of prosperity.

OK, next post is fazenda photos!!

Slow Living Comes Easy in Rio

Something that I really appreciate about Brazil is that some nice things that have passed away from day to day life in America survive here.

Take Avon. They still have Avon ladies here. One just arrived here at the house about an hour ago, mini magazine and beauty products in tow. She and Maria d'Egypto, the grandma in the family we are staying with, sat down together to have a cafezinho and check out some lipsticks.

They will spend the morning doing this, maybe a few hours, just sitting and shooting the breeze. Maria may buy something; maybe not. It does not matter. They are enjoying themselves. Slow Living -- these people know how to do it right:)