Brynn Barineau

Category: American in Brazil

  • Faking It: A Brazilian Success Story

    Faking It: A Brazilian Success Story

    Brazil is certainly getting its play in the international press lately.  Electing a possibly illiterate clown to congress by a landslide will do that for a country. (No, that is not a metaphor. An actual, professional clown will be representing Sao Paulo.)  Because I live here, I would prefer to focus on Brazil’s success stories and my stepmom sent me a link that does just that.

    On NPR’s All Things Considered last week, there was a segment about Brazil’s remarkable end to decades of runaway inflation.  It’s due in no small part to a group of drinking buddies from PUC (Catholic University in Rio) and a trick that worked on pretty much the entire population of Brazil.

    My Brazilian husband refers to the problem as “Brazil’s culture of inflation.”  He being somewhat (no specifics) older than myself remembers prices on virtually everything changing daily during the worst periods of inflation.  Those who could bought dollars or had savings accounts that adjusted daily.  But for lower income families (i.e. most of Brazil at the time) paychecks had to be deposited immediately or risk being worth less by the next day.

    This went on for decades until it became built into Brazilian culture.  People had no faith in the government or the currency.  They behaved as if the currency had no value and expected all government plans to fail.  So part of the solution was to trick the population into believing the currency was stable.  How do you do that?  You create a imaginary currency.  This became known as the real plan.

    Obviously, this is a gross simplification and at 7 minutes the broadcast is not delving into all the complexities either.  I do think, however, that’s it’s an informative and enjoyable introduction to a subject most Americans have never heard of.  You can listen to the story here.

    And on a human interest note, I can say that one of those four drinking buddies who ended inflation, is now a nice, doting father.  I taught his daughter in an SAT prep class.

  • Suggestions for Lula’s Second Career

    Suggestions for Lula’s Second Career

    The results are in and we’re headed toward a runoff.  In Brazil, you cannot be elected with a mere plurality.  Because no presidential candidate managed to secure more than 50% of the vote, there will be a runoff between the top two vote winners, Dilma and Serra.

    Analysts in Brazil and abroad are certain Dilma will win easily, but it’s not over until all the vote are counted.  The one thing we know for certain is that President Lula will be out of a job in a few months.  Rumor has it he’ll be back to run again in four years but in the meantime he’s going to need a second career.  I have some suggestions.

    Sea captain.  With his beard and deep, gravelly voice the man was born to shout orders like “Swab the decks!”  Or whatever the Portuguese equivalent of “swab” is.  Brazil has plenty of monkeys and parrots, so he can have his pick of faithful, shoulder-sitting animal companion.  He lost a couple of fingers working in the factory. He could start telling people it happened while loading cannons during a sea battle.

    Restaurateur.  Specifically, the owner of a cachaçaria in Salvador.  Lula has a legendary love of cachaça. Why not take that passion to the bank?  He is charming and personable, crucial skills for a great bartender. Plus, the northeast is Lula’s strongest base so he’d be able to get in a little politicking while passing out shots.

    Tattoo Parlor Owner.  Not because the man has any tattoos. (That we know of…) I just want him to buy a shop and name it Lula Ink.

    Santa Claus.  Has any country ever been ruled by a man who more closely resembles St. Nick?  Lula is short, with a round belly and full, grey beard.  Has he seriously never been dressed in red velvet for a Christmas photo op? If I found myself standing in front of him, I would have to fight the urge to ask for a new iPad and pony.  Lula is already called the Father of Brazil, which makes for a pretty smooth transition to Father Christmas.

    Who knows?  Maybe he’d love life at the north pole so much he’d decide to stay there rather than come back in four years to establish his dynasty.  What a wonderful present that would be.

    So, what do you guys think Lula should spend the next four years doing?

  • Election Day in Brazil

    Election Day in Brazil

    Tomorrow is election day in Brazil.  Thank God!  If I hear one more election jingle being blasted from the propaganda cars driving through the city, well, I don’t know what I’d do, probably nothing, because I’m not a citizen and can’t vote.

    Anyway, elections! All the expats are blogging about it.  Even the NYT made it their lead article online this afternoon, so I’ll jump on the bandwagon.

    The big job is up for grabs this year.  The major presidential candidates are in the picture above.  Starting on the left, we have Marina Silva. (No relation to the current president.  Silva is the Portuguese equivalent of Jones.)  Marina is a native of the Amazon and passionate environmentalist.  She’s running on the Green Party ticket after resigning from her job as Environmental Minister under current President Lula.  She’s got her cred with the workers, something very important in Brazil, due to the years she spent working as a maid while she got through school. She fights for the preservation of the rainforest and rights of the native forest dwellers.  Very cool!  She is staunchly anti-abortion.  Very uncool!

    To the right of Marina is Jose Serra who’s running with the Social Democrats (PSDB).  As a student union leader, Serra was forced into exile for 14 years after the military government came to power.  During that time he got a PhD in economics from Cornell.  He’s been a Senator from Sao Paulo and Health Minister under President Cardoso.  He lost the 2002 Presidential Election to Lula.  Now, he’s probably going to loose to Lula’s lackey.  Let’s wait and see if he then grows a beard and gains 40 lbs.

    Lula’s lackey, is better known as Dilma Rousseff.  And she’s not really a lackey. She’s a handpicked protege who lacks the charm and energy of her predecessor.  Not that she doesn’t have any experience.  In fact, she was part of an armed rebel group fighting against the military dictatorship during her student days.  She was eventually jailed and tortured. Under Lula she has served as Minister of Energy and Chief of Staff.  Lula, whose approval is around 80%, has been at her side constantly for the last year.  Electing her is essentially an endorsement of Lula’s government and Worker Party (PT) control of the government.

    There’s also some old guy on the end. He’s not going to win so I don’t really care to find out who he is.

    What I find ironic and depressing is that both Dilma and Serra are people who have personally experienced the brutality of a government that does whatever it wants ignoring the rule of law, yet they are running campaigns that continually violate electoral law.  Serra has been fined seven times for a total of R$35,000.  He’s paid R$5,000.  Dilma has been fined 10 times by the electoral court.  She’s paid  R$16,000 of the total R$48,000 she owes.  And in a truly shameful display of leadership, President Lula has been fined a total of R$47,500 for his illegal campaigning for Dilma and has failed to pay a single cent.

    Marina has not been fined once.  As of Friday one poll had her at 15%.  See kids, follow the rules and you too can come in third place!

    It’s disgraceful for the party in control to create a political culture where the rule of law can be ignored. PT leaders buy off lower income families with a monthly stipend (which they do need and certainly makes a difference in their lives) and then spend the rest of their time serving their own interests.  They threaten critical media outlets, buy votes in Congress, and expand government’s role in industries to create jobs for their party bosses.

    Not that I think any other party would behave differently. Without a doubt PSDB wins the award for slimiest attack ad.  The ad claims a Dilma presidency will unleash a zombie army on Brazil that would release the hounds of hell and paint Brasilia red with blood.  My Portuguese isn’t great, so I may have some of the details wrong.  Watch for yourself and let me know what you think PSDB is trying to say.

  • Pet Adoption in Brazil

    Pet Adoption in Brazil

    My husband and I spent all of last week preparing our apartment for the new arrivals.  We bought a bed, toys and food.  We also double layered the netting on the balcony because I was convinced they would find a way to wiggle through.  A gerbil could now safely run around our balcony.  Well, except for the two cats.  The gerbil would be saved from falling only to become dinner for our two newest additions.

    Monday night, we went to the lovely and generous Janaina’s house to formally take custody of Mingau & Canela.  Janaina volunteers with a group in Vitoria called Adoção Gatinhos de UFES. The group, run entirely by volunteers in their spare time, takes care of the huge population of cats living at the Federal University here in Vitoria.  They leave food out and when they can they adopt out the kittens they find and the friendly adults.  They also spay and neuter the ones they can catch.

    The group maintains a blog with a constant stream of photos and contact info for cats who need homes in the Vitoria area.  Whether it’s a vet clinic with kittens or someone who brought in a stray off the street, the group posts info about the cat and foster parent.  They have created a great database of cats currently in need throughout the city.

    I found Janaina after spotting a beautiful cat named Luan on the website.  I sent her an email and got a response the same day.  Three days later, my husband and I went to her house to meet the kitties up for adoption.  Luan had been adopted but Janaina had one adult female and the last two kittens out of a litter of five, plus the kittens’ mom.

    Janaina’s home was very modest.  Her family is not rolling in so much money that vet visits, litter, food and toys are inconsequential costs, but she had given these cats everything they needed.  They had scratching posts, bowls full of food and more jingly balls than any cat could ever want.  In addition to the foster cats, Janaina has three cats of her own and feeds a stray that comes by every morning.  Janaina’s generosity is making a difference in the lives not only of the cats she adopts out but also for everyone in the community.

    Without a doubt, keeping a pet population under control and vaccinated is a public health issue and Brazil (at least Rio and Vitoria) has a problem with pet overpopulation.  There seems to be a strong cultural resistance to spaying and neutering pets.  Particularly neutering.  I see more dog testicles bouncing around Rio in one weekend, than in a decade back home in the States.  And that’s with having a veterinarian in my family.  Groups like Adoção Gatinhos de UFES are doing the public a service by getting animals fixed, vaccinated and off the streets.

    These groups exist all over Brazil.  In Rio there’s Quatro Patinhas , which adopts both cats and dogs.  Those in Sao Paulo you can visit these sites: for cats Adote um Gatinho or Abrigo Salas has both dogs and cats.  Gatinhos de Toda Parte lists cats available for adoption throughout Brazil.

    There are a lot of animals in need here in Brazil.  If any fellow expats are worried about what they will do with a pet if/when it’s time to go home, just take the pet with you.  There are entire companies devoted to international pet transportation.  They will take care of everything including the necessary paperwork to get your pet through customs.  Check out Pet Movers or Air Animal just to get an idea of the many options available.

    Think about it.  I’ve had a kitten in my lap while writing this post and there really aren’t many things more adorable or calming than a purring kitten.

  • Combatting Fraud & Efficiency

    The Brazilian government is truly amazing in its ability to complicate simple things.  Take signing your name to a contract.  In the US, at the end of negotiations a piece of paper is laid down on which is written everything the parties agree to and then all affected by the agreement pick up a pen and sign their names.  That’s it. Deal’s closed.

    Here in Brazil, there is an extra step.  Once everyone has signed the contract then each signatory must prove that she is in fact the person whose name is signed on the document.

    You prove the validity of your signature by having it notarized.  The only way you can have your signature notarized is by having an official signature on record with one of the notary offices in your city.  And that was what I got to do last week.  I put my signature on record.  Now, all I need is a contract to sign.

    In an age when I can see and talk to my parents in the States while sitting on my couch in Brazil, this signature registration seems a touch outdated.  I walked into the notary and gave them my RNE card (Brazilian green card).  A man then typed my information onto what is essentially a 3×5 index card.  He gave the card to me and told me to sign my name three times on the empty lines provided.  I did.  He stamped it and filed it away.

    Now, I have an official signature.  In the future if I’m signing an official document, let’s say a contract on a four-bedroom apartment with two parking spaces, just imagining here, once I sign the document I will have to go back to that same notary office.  They will pull my card out and compare the signature on the contract to the signatures on the card.  If they match, the notary will stamp the contract saying the person who signed “Brynn” is in fact “Brynn.”  If they are different in any way, the notary will not affirm the signature. I either resign matching the index card exactly or I get sent to jail for fraud.  Something like that.

    I’m told this is a way to prevent fraud.  I guess Brazilian criminals aren’t sophisticated enough to fake the ID shown to register the signature in the first place.  They just run around trying to sign other people’s names on marriage certificates.

    An American lawyer friend explained to me Brazilians and Americans have different ways of approaching fraud.  Americans assume 95% of all transactions will be legit and make the process simple.  They invest resources in prosecuting the 5% that is fraudulent.  Brazilians invest their resources in trying to prevent fraud from ever occurring, hence the overwhelming amount of bureaucracy.

    Obvious, not all fraud in America is persecuted, but neither does Brazil’s approach prevent fraud from ever happening.  My husband, who knows something about fraud cases in Brazil, said most people would be surprised by just how often fraud occurs.  So in the end the only thing a notarized signature prevents every time, is efficiency.

  • My Brazilian Gym Membership Part 3: Dress Code

    My Brazilian Gym Membership Part 3: Dress Code

    Most ads don't reflect reality...this one does. This is exactly how many women show up to my gym.
    Most ads don’t reflect reality…this one does. This is exactly how many women show up to my gym.

    I’ve been a regular at our new gym for one full week and I have to say I’m a bit of a standout.  People come up to me and ask where I’m from.  The trainers notice me and wave from across the gym.  I notice guys doing a double take.  Not to brag but people notice me.  Yup, I have the distinction of being the most conservatively dressed woman in the gym.

    With my t-shirts and running shorts, I might as well be using an American flag as a towel. It’s not just the fact that my abdomen is entirely covered that sets me apart.  I’m not wearing eyeliner or chandelier earrings and I haven’t left my waist-length hair streaming down my back. The Brazilian women at my gym are the sexiest collection of gym goers I’ve ever seen.  It’s like working out in a Flo Rida music video.

    There’s more leopard print here than on a jungle safari.  You can also see a good deal of paisley in all the colors of the rainbow.  Every outfit is perfectly matched and accessorized.  A flower-print sports bra paired with striped shorts?  Major faux-pas!

    Most of the women avoid the risks of mismatching by just going with the unitard.  Until recently, the unitard was, for me, merely a myth.  An extinct manner of dress that could be seen in historic records and frequently used in comedy sketches, like the toga.

    I’m pleased to report the unitard is alive and popular here in Brazil.  Surprisingly, there is quite a variety of cuts.  You have very low cut backs that dip so far down it’s possible to count every vertebra. Some of the unitards have cutouts on the sides and others have lace-up backs. They also have fronts cut so low there’s no way the woman can lift her arms over head without everything popping out.

    But lifting one’s arms is something most of the women never need to do since 95% of their workout focuses on legs.  Probably, to pull off their unitards.  And boy, do they pull them off.  In addition to being sex bombs, I’m pretty sure every woman there is also a triathlete.  These women sport six packs and perky, round butts without any jiggle.

    I’m not exaggerating when I say every woman in the gym is hardcore.  Yesterday, I scanned the gym specifically looking for women who could stand to lose a pound or two.  I saw maybe four.  Everyone else looked like an athlete and this includes the grandmothers in the room.  One woman, who could not have been younger than 60, followed me on the squat press and upped my weight by 40kgs. A very humbling moment.

    I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little intimidated by the overt sexiness of the women.  The women are sleek, styled and fit. I’m in baggy shorts with my ponytail askew.  In the end though, I’ll take a ponytail over sweaty hair clinging to my back.  For me, comfort trumps fashion but I will take a cue from their commitment.  These women, of all ages, have made exercise an integral part of their lifestyle.  That, unlike unitards, is something worth imitating.

  • My Gym Membership A 3 part series Part II: Results

    My Gym Membership A 3 part series Part II: Results

    In a dazzling, welcome and somewhat out of character for Brazil, display of efficiency, the results of our introductory physical evaluation were sent by email the evening of the exam.  Having run on a treadmill wearing a mask most commonly seen on fighter pilots, I was expecting the results to be somewhat technical.  The myriad of pie charts and bar graphs didn’t disappoint.  My husband and I met with a trainer the next morning to have our results explained.

    I was all set to hear a trainer explain my good results and tell me I had passed my evaluation with flying colors.  I’m certainly no Olympian but I’ve been going to the gym pretty regularly and I watch what I eat.  I anticipated good results.

    A red-shirted trainer pulled up my results on a computer in weight room.  He took a second to skim the brightly colored charts.

    “Ok, your goal is to drop your body fat percentage by 4%.  You also need to increase your percentage of lean body mass.  Your right shoulder hangs slightly lower than your left which makes your pelvis tilt up on your left side. We’re going to have to work on that. You really need to improve your cardio.  The evaluator recommends at least 30 minutes on the treadmill a few times a week.  We’ll give you some ab exercises to reduce your waist circumference and of course we’ll concentrate heavily on your glutes and thighs.”

    I was waiting for him to tell me I had a brain tumor to go along with my fat, scoliosis, and weak heart. Then he scrolled farther down into the report, and my butt mugshots came into view.

    These were the most unflattering, complex-inducing, fat-roll highlighting pictures any human being has ever had taken. With the helpful grid on the wall behind me, I could measure just how far out my butt protruded from my body.  My profile shot provided a wonderful comparison between the horizontal extension of my butt and boobs, which, being under a sports bra, were non-existent according to the grid.

    Never once did he say to me “This is really good,” or “You’re doing great in this area.” I heard nothing except my current measurements and goals to work toward. By the end of the review I was convinced I had some serious work to do and guilty of assault every time I put on a bikini.

    What exactly were my results?  Currently, I weigh 62.8 kg (138.45 lbs) and my body fat percentage is 18.35.  My recommended goal is to reduce my body fat percentage to 14 and lose 2 kg (4.4lbs). To do this I will need to increase my lean body mass (muscle) by 1 kg.

    When the trainer gave me those numbers, I had no idea how they compared to other people.  I’m not a nutritionist or a doctor.  The trainer just told how much fat I should work on losing.  I was genuinely dismayed and believed I was in fact slightly over weight. Never once did he say “Wow, Brynn you’re actually in really great shape.”

    Which is exactly what I am!!  I am in awesome shape as  two hours worth of internet research told me.  Oh my god!  I realize I look like an ass for being upset about discovering I’m in good shape but the trainer really made me believe I NEEDED to loose the fat.  After visiting a dozen health sites, I learned that 14% body fat, my goal, is the lowest amount of fat an athletic woman my age should have. I need 12% body fat just for my organs to function well.

    Trainers, a word of advice.  If your client is already in good shape at the beginning of her training, lead with that!  Rather than say “Your goal is to lose 4% body fat,” say “4% body fat is all you can lose and still be healthy.”  It’s all in the presentation of the information.  As a trainer you have the power to make a person feel like she’s got a great body or like she’s that “before” picture in all the diet pill ads.

    Trust me, it’s not a hard sell to convince most women they need to lose weight.  It’s more difficult to convince most of us that we’re perfectly healthy and can afford to enjoy a side a french fries.

    Although, if the abundance of six packs and unitards is any indication, I bet most of the women at this gym haven’t eaten any kind of carb in the last decade.

    Up next…
    Part III: Dress Code

  • My Gym Membership A 3 part series Part I: Registration

    My Gym Membership A 3 part series Part I: Registration

    “Just tuck the heart rate monitor under your sports bra.  Just like that…good.  Now I’m going to put the mask on.  You let me know if it’s too tight.”  I nodded as she slipped the rubber mask over my nose and mouth and adjusted the straps behind my head.  “Ok, I’ll keep increasing the speed every minute.  You let me know when it gets uncomfortable.”

    When you’re running on a treadmill, with a rubber mask and hose on your face, things don’t become uncomfortable.  They start out that way and proceed to get worse.  Within, five minutes I was running flat out, sweating underneath my rubber muzzle and listening to the friendly blonde chat with my husband.  To top off the indignity, they were chatting about me while I’m inches away with a hose running from my face.

    I voluntarily submitted myself to all of it.  Of course, I hadn’t known what exactly was in store when my husband and I were told we had to do a physical evaluation before starting our new gym.  That’s right.  Every new member goes through a complete physical evaluation that is kept on file and used by the trainers to develop your personal fitness routine.  You can access it yourself from any of the gym’s computers if you’re feeling lazy and need to be reminded just what percentage of you is fat.

    The morning after filling out our paperwork and paying our fees, we returned to the gym and were led to a small, flourescent lit room where we met Marisa, trainer and our physical evaluator.  My husband graciously let me go first.  (He probably knew I was hoping to memorize whatever he did and slack off on understanding Marisa’s Portuguese.)

    The evaluation started with a series of questions.  “Do you drink two liters of water a day?”  (Does anybody?) “Do you smoke?”  “What medical problems run in your family?”  etc. Then, I took off my shoes and shirt, got weighed and measured.  Marisa didn’t just take my height.  She measured around my arms, legs, calves, waist, hips, ribs, everywhere.  Muscles flexed and relaxed.

    I knew this was serious data collection when the calipers came out.  Nothing brings you down like watching all of your body fat get pinched and recorded.  I also discovered that nothing gives you body issues like having your body evaluated.  I had thought I was in pretty good shape but I began to doubt it with every notation Marisa made.  The phrase ignorance is bliss flitted through my head more than once that morning.

    When Marisa finished cataloguing my fat, she asked me to stand against the wall, centered in front of a grid painted on it.  You know, similar to the one criminals stand in front of for mug shots.  Like the criminals I got my picture taken, front, left side, right side, and back, but unlike traditional mug shots my pictures cut my head completely out of the shot.  It was a mug shot of my butt.  Wanted: my ass for being disproportionately large.

    The exam finally ended with the aerobic test on the treadmill.  The mask measured my oxygen output in relation to my heart rate.  When I finished my husband went through the same process.  I feel pretty strongly we should now be cleared for astronaut training.

    Despite feeling slightly foolish while doing the tests, I am very glad I had the evaluation.  True, I became acutely aware of the places my body likes to store fat, I know that I’m a healthy weight with a healthy lifestyle.  Plus, isn’t knowing where the fat is stored the first step in getting rid of it?  That’s the whole point, obviously, of doing the physical evaluation.  The trainer knows exactly what areas you need to maintain and what you need to improve.  A personal fitness plan.

    Or at least that’s how I felt until I saw the mug shots.

    Up next…
    Part II: The Results

  • Why Does Brazil Not Have Closets?!

    Why Does Brazil Not Have Closets?!

    We saw our current apartment for the first time about a month ago.  We had two days in Vitoria to find an apartment to rent so my husband could move and start work in 10 days.  One step across the threshold and I knew I liked it.  After a quick tour I was ready to sign the papers. My husband hesitated.

    “What’s the problem?” I asked.

    “Well, it doesn’t come with closets.”

    I did a double take. Plenty of cabinets in the kitchen,  and…nothing else. That’s it.  No closet or storage room of any kind.  Unless we wanted to store our socks above the sink, we would have to purchase a closet.

    “Brazilian homes typically don’t have built in closets,” my husband explained later.  “It’s just a piece of furniture your have to buy. It’s cultural.”

    Obviously, Brazilians have clothes.  They have towels and bed sheets.   Cariocas seem to think 60 degrees requires a coat and scarf, so where do they store the coat?  In separately purchased, often custom made, cabinets and closets like the one pictured above.

    In our quest for a closet, I developed my own theory to explain the lack closets.  It is one giant conspiracy between developers and furniture manufacturers.  Oh, the architects and interior designers are in on it too.  Everyone’s involved.  It’s a massive, money-making conspiracy.  And you the poor home buyer, with your four suitcases of clothes and one of shoes (yes, you need it all), you are the victim.

    For those of you scoffing at the idea of a closet conspiracy, let me tell you about the first stop on our closet shopping quest.  We went into a beautiful store, just a few, tree-lined blocks from our new apartment.  They had efficient yet elegant looking layouts of closets and cabinets for every room of the house.  We sat down in front of a lovely woman.  My husband spoke to her for all of forty seconds.  Before I could even catch up in the conversation, we were leaving.

    “What was the problem?  I couldn’t understand what she said.”  I scurried after my husband out the door.

    “They only do custom work.”

    “Is that a problem?”

    “It would probably cost around R$3,000/m.  So, a big closet could cost between R$27 – 30,000.”

    In dollars, about $15,000.  A $15,000 closet!  A closet!  Hell no, I’m not paying for a closet the same amount that I could pay for a car.  Never going to happen.  I will live out of my suitcases forever, before I spend that kind of money on what are essentially very tall cabinets.   Now, tell me there is not a conspiracy here?

    We did eventually find the above closet for way, way less and it is working beautifully.  It keeps our clothes off the floor, which is where we’ve had them for the past two weeks.  My husband keeps saying this is just how Brazilians do it.  Big closets are an American thing.

    I thought about that last comment.  I’ve stayed with families in a few different countries and I have to admit that I don’t remember ever walking into a closet or even seeing one.  Still, if the idea of “0” can be developed independently on two different continents, I refuse to believe the concept of a walk-in closet is uniquely American.