Brazil Day 1: Atibaia

We had barely boarded the plane when the familiar accent of the attendant making the announcements made me homesick for the country where our children were born, where we lived for nearly six years, and had so many friends. We left 6 or 7 inches of snow at home and arrived to the heat of summer. I wore a sundress over leggings and turtle neck that I could strip off in the airport before leaving the air-conditioning. 

We were met by two of the faculty at Palavra da Vida (Word of Life) Bible Institute and Steve was soon engrossed in discussions of best practices, the history of accreditation in Brazil, and catching up with who is where now of old friends.

 

Palavra da Vida is in Atibaia in the mountains of São Paulo state, about an hour’s drive from the SP airport. Even the favelas we passed (slums clinging to the hillsides) made me nostalgic. Steve has been to Atibaia many times; me more than once although the friend I last visited has retired and moved away. (Not surprising when you are our age.)

 

We had lunch with a faculty family of Japanese origin, but thoroughly Brazilian. I got a kick out Japanese style noodles with Brazilian farinha (a garnish of toasted manioc flour). Sort of like putting peanut butter on lefse.

 

Because of the cooler climate of the mountains, this is a resort community. Lots of São Paulo missionaries in our day had summer cottages here. There’s a man-made lake at the bottom of the hill, surrounded by beautiful (and expensive) homes. While Steve gave his first session of faculty workshop, I went for a walk. If it weren’t for grandkids in the States, we could seriously consider retiring here. I even saw a for sale sign on a lot by the lake.

 

There is a park at the far end of the lake.

Near the playground was this aviary.

 

 

 

An avenue of pine connected the two sides of the lake.

When I came out of the pines, I found a family of capivara, a large rodent.

 

Most of this trip is to visit old friends, but Wednesday Steve taught a workshop a short distance across campus. I spent the day winding up the front matter and afterword for my next book. I was engrossed. I can only claim that my body clock is off from the three-hour time change. I was supposed to walk over to where they were meeting for a churrasco (BBQ) at 12:30. Steve came in a car to get me at 1. I had been glancing periodically at the clock in the upper right corner of my screen and not noticing that it was still on Central US time. Delicious churrasco and good time visiting and a simple walk back to my computer when they returned to their meeting.

Our evening meal was with a Brazilian missionary family who have been 15 years in Mozambique. They (with their kids ages 10, 11 and 14) were evacuated the end of December due to the post election violence. They're hoping to go back the end of the year, but at the moment the country has two competing presidents and frequent street protests which turn violent when the party in power begins to shoot. With our experiences in Mozambique during the civil war of the 1980s, I think we were the right people to listen to them process.  I left them a copy of The Wooden Ox.