Celebrating Rio

Watching the opening ceremony of the Rio Olympics last night brought back so many memories of the city where I was born and where my children spent their first years of life.  During the 5 hour show there was plenty of time to share thoughts and memories with others who were also watching.  We'd reach out with "Do you remember?" and respond with, "Yes, I'll never forget."
After the delegation of the Marshall Islands walked in, the online posts showed an ex-student and colleague of ours proudly representing the small island community,  "Did you see?" and "Yes, I wouldn't miss this!"

I confess that I am approaching these Olympic games with mixed feelings.  I am eager to see Rio again, but am fully aware of the challenges the city faces in hosting these games.  I lived in Barra, taught in the school in Gavea, sailed down the coast to Ilha Grande and experienced the joys of trying to get from place to place in a city that is as geographically impossible as it is beautiful.  If any had asked my opinion of holding the games there, I would respond that it is impossible.  But this is what is being attempted, and without the support a stable government or financial security.
The traffic and water quality are undesirable.  One New Year's Eve we attempted to sail our boat from Botafogo around Sugar Loaf and see the fireworks off Copacabana Beach.  We got stuck in traffic and barely got out of the marina before midnight.  Later we moved our boat down the coast in search of cleaner water.  The boat was a constant worry, with kids and engine problems, but it was a huge part of our memories of that time.

So I watch the opening ceremony with anticipation. Will they pull it off, or will it be embarrassingly poor in comparison to past performances? After it was all over I found myself looking for articles that told me what the media thought of the show.  This is like reading a review for a movie or book after enjoying it yourself. We want to know if we are on the same page.  The articles agreed with my opinion of the ceremony, and I could satisfactorily accept that Rio's directors had got their point across;  despite everything, the games will go on and they will move us.  The most memorable moments of the games will be those that were achieved despite difficulty and against great odds.
Living in Rio was not easy.  Just getting to work every day on time was a challenge.  We were not so much bothered by crime, but by the amount of time it took to get anything done.  The city has little flat areas, making buildings hang on cliffs, and roads go through small tunnels.  We lived within site of the beach, but couldn't get there without sitting in traffic, and during the summer there is absolutely no parking available.

Yet we were outside all the time, at the beach, pool or in the forest.  The children were probably not the best age for sailing, but most of our pictures of them at that time were on or around the boat.  Looking back now, I realize that our
lifestyle would not have been possible without good childcare and good friends.
The friends we made in Rio are now all over the world, making the lives of others easier and brighter.  We move from place to place and take some of the sparkle of Rio with us.

I waited for the lighting of the Olympic flame, in anticipation.  I had heard that Pele had canceled his appearance only days before and there was a lot of talk of how this part of the ceremony would compare to others.  At first I was disappointed in the size of the small ball of flame being raised into the air.  And then a beautifully intricate chandelier unfolded and twirled, reflecting light around the stadium.  I was moved to tears by its unexpected beauty and I felt it was a fitting end to the show, leaving us with the memory of light being scattered in all directions and forever burning bright.  Well done, Rio!

Pigfection #onlyinamerica

Surely I am not the only one who did a double take when driving past this Arby's sign.  After my initial thought that it was a misspelling, or some over ambitious fast-food worker's bright idea, I realized that this was part of a nationwide campaign based on the saying "roasted to pigfection".  For those unfamiliar with that saying, the sign seems to be spreading swine flu, my family's unfortunate take on it. If infection does not immediately come to mind when you read this, then you start drooling while imagining pigging out on perfect bacon. I love this: an idea that doesn't really work, but the US has taken it and run with it, knowing that, amidst the jeers, tweets, cringes and disapproval, the idea will spread like wild fire.  (How else can you explain Trump's nomination and following?)
The local county fair is full of ideas that anywhere else would never have taken off, but in this rural farming community have become more popular than corn-dogs (another unfortunate name for food).

 On Sunday the entries start to pour in. Anything and everything is accepted, just find a category to register it in.  I stood for quite a while puzzling over the grasses and some other items in jars resembling weeds. Each stem was carefully labelled and ribbons awarded.  I'd love to meet the person who entered the champion corn stalk.  Did they grow it from seed? Or did they pull it out of a neighbor's field?  And what criteria does a judge use to choose a prize green bean?
Of course, the fair is not only for judging entries, and there are plenty of vendors and special interest groups represented.  The Conservation building is just as puzzling to me.  The first time I entered I expected a ecological green message, but found only fishing and hunting booths.  Mounted heads and stuffed fish decorated the walls and you could get everything you needed to start killing wildlife.
I'm sure you can imagine the political booths.  Minnesota is traditionally a Democratic state, but that doesn't stop the Republicans pushing their candidate for president.

A TRUMP poster is not enough, and they have a larger than life cut out image for people to take selfies with.  The truth is that, where I would simply ignore a poster, I can hardly resist the opportunity to take a selfie with the man himself! Bad idea or not, it's a draw.
Half of the car-park is given over to campers.  The fairground campground has grown in popularity each year.  The obvious question is "why camp out here when you only live 20 minutes away?"  I decided to stay the night and find out for myself.  I stayed in a ghetto of relatives and friends of relatives.  The children run wild, and tend to the animals they will be showing tomorrow. The expensive campers are decorated with strings of lights and we spend the evening eating and talking under the stars.  About 10:30pm I seek out the shower house before bed.  The place is overrun with families trying to get their children clean, and the hot water has long since run out.  I give up on showering and head for bed.  The place still resembles a playground with children getting lost and found in the shadows and neon lights.

As I try to fall asleep, I am still mulling over the 4H rabbit show.  I was looking forward to this; the rabbits pose, get bundled about and generally look cute.  The kids showing their beloved pets are just as cute.  I'm smiling after watching the "Cloverbuds", then I hear the next category announced as "Friers",  Excuse me? What?  Apparently these adorable pets will be eaten as soon as the fair is over.  I find out that I am the only one who doesn't know this.  These kids are raising meat and no one even so much as raises an eyebrow.  I wonder if a blue ribbon tastes better than a red.
In the morning I wake up and the fairground is all business. It is pig day and senior citizen day.

They both get started early.  The seniors have difficulty getting around, so some of the animals come out to them. A young girl and her llama cross my path.  He is there for the seniors to pet.  Whose idea was that?  I resist getting bitten by a llama because I am late for the pig show.
I am no longer under the illusion that these are pets.  In my ignorance I assume the biggest, beefiest (porkiest) pigs will win.  I join the grandparents and parents in the stands to watch the kids bring out their enormous pigs.  The driving tool resembles a whip that is used to make the animals walk around the ring.  The whole thing resembles a circus with the judge as the ringmaster.  He expertly discusses feet, balance and hind quarters.  I wonder who first had the idea to have children choose a pig at random and then compete to which one turned out the best at the end of the summer. It seems like a variation of the biggest pumpkin growing contest. When this week is over, the prize pig will become bacon, and congratulations will be given to the child who watched it grow. Hardly fair, in my opinion.

But, of course, my opinion is irrelevant here. There is no denying the attraction of the pigs at the fair.  I join the crowd and watch the ringmaster define pigfection.

Horseradish Wine

I have been coming to the Freeborn County Fair every summer for the last 25 years.  Around here people have been going all their lives.  After working all year, they get together to celebrate their hobbies, interests and pleasures.
At first I didn't get it.  I had never heard of the country band playing on Friday night.  I am not in love with pigs enough to watch them waddle about an echoing shed.  All the fried food is hard to stomach, and the caged area referred to as the "beer garden" is a bit intimidating. I am already planning on avoiding the political booths this year.  My children have no exhibits in the 4H building nor do I have friends to bump into and catch up with.  Every year I go... and feel foreign.
Then this year I was asked to help out with the homemade wine judging. Interested, I showed up early ready to work.

Nothing was happening yet, so I cornered one of the judges about her wine making experience and asked how the judging worked.  She expertly explained the categories, the spitting and the use of electric light bulbs in judging clarity.  She also told me of how the jalapeno wine last year had ruined her taste buds for the rest of the evening.
I then perused the wines; dessert wines like black cherry and chocolate raspberry sounded good.  There were other fruity wines: plum, peach sangria, pear and lots of apple.  I wasn't sure about the tomato, potato and rhubarb.

I found out that my job was to wash the wine glasses between rounds of tasting.  I rolled up my sleeves and listened to the other ladies talk.  They spoke of past fairs and exhibits, their flowers and baked goods, animals, gardens and grand-kids.  I joined in... and we bonded in the time it took to wash and dry over 1000 wine glasses.
The formal judging over, it was our turn to start tasting the wines.  Everyone had an opinion.  The green apple was too sweet, and the French Merlot lacked body.  The horseradish was surprisingly good if you weren't put off by the smell.

I sat down to eat with another glass of chocolate wine, between a lady Lutheran pastor and a special ed teacher.  I found I could follow their conversation, recognizing the names of teachers and the pastor who married me all those years ago.  It could have been the vodka wine (the winner, by the way), but I had no trouble fitting in.
The county fair brings people together who have similar passions and, just like the horseradish wine, it is surprisingly enjoyable after you get past the awkwardness that goes along with being different.

Until We Meet Again

Family weddings can be daunting.  There are so many people there I do not know.  But this summer I came prepared.  I have been following them on Facebook.  A young woman approaches me and asks, "Do you remember me?" I not only know her but how we are related, and can ask her about her plans for next year without sounding clueless.  Another woman approaches me and I instantly recall her name, although I don't remember ever meeting her before.  I admit to only knowing her through FB, and she says she has been following my travels as well. I suddenly realize that my FB posts make it easier for them to speak with me.  They know where I come from and where I am going.

It is an exciting time of year to be following friends on FB.  Their posts are full of travel pictures and I am currently following friends on vacation in Japan, Thailand, Italy, France, Vietnam and across the US.  I eagerly read every comment and worry when they don't post one day. It is like I am traveling with them.
I much prefer these posts to watching another pet video; I'll go through +29 photos of your baby before I read another biased political article; I'll stop everything to answer a message, but may scroll quickly through those quotable quotes.  FB seems to agree with my preferences and has been working on getting users to make more personal posts.  That is why you get Birthday reminders, shared memories, and notifications telling you what to celebrate in your life. That is all very well and good, until you realize that you are bonding with an algorithm.

FB is a little like the ghosts at Hogwarts, they will give you all the information you need if you don't ignore them and take a little time to know how they work.  The mysterious ghosts of FB contacted me after I had been searching the web for a picture of the old campus of the school in Bulgaria where I had once taught.  I came up with nothing, but the next day I got a FB friend request from a stranger who introduced himself as the old director of this school.  And, lo and behold, he had posted on his timeline a picture of the campus and a message about how the buildings had been built.  Curious, I asked him how he had known I was looking for this picture? This led to a series of obscure messages with him avoiding the answer. I went to his page and it was like graffiti on a ruined building, full of badly written snippets and Birthday congrats.  This man either never existed or is long gone, leaving his page open for hackers and phishers. My son claims that FB itself writes programs that monitor your searches and bring you into contact with others with similar interests.

 They understand that human contact is what most people crave.  However the ultimate goal should be to meet up in person and spend time catching up face to face.
I am on my way to a small reunion, where I will get to spend time and reminisce with friends from the past, in an effort to keep in contact and not lose all the good memories we have together. Offline we can share what we really think, and mention those things that are much too personal or sensitive to post on line.
But for those of you who are across the seas, and cannot come to our reunion, Facebook will have to serve as a substitute way to keep in touch...

        ...until we meet again.

Family Camping - Why?

Our family goes camping at least once each summer in Minnesota.  We usually head for a State Park and bring along the usual tent, canoe, bikes and, more recently, a large camper.  The boys and I get up the morning of, pack our bags and then find something to do while Jon unpacks and packs again all of our stuff.  I try not to interfere, as I know that the only two real necessities are an ax and and box of wine, and even that can be bought on the way to the camp site.

When we are finally on our way we prepare for the inevitable stops for gas, lunch and Erik's Bike Shop.  We can't really be called regular customers as we only shop at Eriks in the month of July, but Erik certainly gets our business. We stop to buy a bike, exchange it for another bike, or to get it repaired. Well, not we; Jon takes care of the bike business while the rest of us grocery shop. I must be the only one who buys camping supplies in Trader Joes and Byerly's because they are handily right next to the bike shop.
By now we are hours behind schedule and just hoping to make it to the camp site before dark. We haven't booked ahead because... well we just aren't willing to make that commitment. So we have to take what is available with only non electric left. This leads to us driving around the

campsite looking for a place where we can fit, and not too far from the showers.  We love State Parks for their "surrounded by nature" approach to camping.  They are private and quiet and cheap.  And although we bring a fully functioning camper, we refuse to use its bathroom, and the cooking has to be done outside over the fire. Otherwise we might just as well as stay in a hotel.
And so the work begins setting up camp, leveling the camper that has been backed into place twelve times just to get it just right, and starting a fire.

At this point our middle son's patience runs out. He just can't spend another minute waiting around for this family to make another decision. No, he won't make a fire, no, he won't pose for a picture, no, he won't make inquiries at the visitor's center about WiFi.  I feel his pain.  I'm not too fond of this part of camping either.  I am ready to get out, explore and see the beauty of the place we are in. The last thing I want to do is start cooking.
Energized by a short walk to the river and falls, I provide sandwiches for us all.  This is greeted by

 complaints and suggestions that we go into town for 'smore' stuff.
It is dark before I make it to the shower house. I have to take Ben with me because he accidentally left our soap and shampoo in the men's.  Over the years we have made quite a collection of 'Ben and Bathroom' stories. He has been know to get lost coming and going, and there was the one time he forgot to take a towel and had to dry off using the hand blower. And, of course, we find his sock laying on the path.

I sleep well at night, it is cool and calm, quiet and dark.  In the morning we build a fire and fry bacon, eggs and make blueberry pancakes. Then the boys take off with mountain bikes to do whatever young bucks do.  Jon unpacks and packs up the camper again.  I try to charge my phone at the visitor center and start walking, watching and blogging.
Day two is grayer, with minor injuries and tired bodies. We take off in the car to do some sight seeing.  Jake wants to stop at a brewery.  Sam wants fast food.  Jon wants to shop in Duluth.  I want to visit a lighthouse, and Ben doesn't know what he wants,... probably to go home, so we don't ask him. We take care of everyone's wishes, except Ben's, who suffers quietly in the back third row seat.
By day three, we can no longer pretend to cater to anyone else and go our separate ways.  Ben stays in bed, Jake goes out biking alone, and Sam plugs in with headphones and electronic game.  Jon goes back to shop in Duluth and I take a short walk on the Superior Hiking Trail looking for wolves and wildflowers. Ahh...

I see a bald eagle and kingfisher on the river; wolf or coyote tracks and a dead squirrel; a rushing river blowing foam like bubbles; blue bells, buttercups and daisies; pine and silver birch; smooth river rocks and blue slate; rapids, lakes and waterfalls, all brown with iron ore.  My heart sings... then I turn back to rejoin my family. I wonder why we do this every year.  Our family is the most dysfunctional when we are all together, we don't even pretend to want what the others want.  It comes down to wanting to share what we love with those closest to us.
We drive home together and laugh.

3D Encounters

Recently I've been made to consider how I view the people and countries I visit.  The media continually makes fun of our generalized stereotypes. But I found my traveling reinforcing them.
I walked into the local library fiction section. The shelves were labeled 'Romance', 'Western', 'Mystery',  'Christian Romance'(???) and... nothing else. I wanted to ask where the other fiction books were, the best sellers, but then realized that I would sound like a snob. Just as you can't judge a book by its cover, you can't judge a community by the books in their library.

It is easy to get a flat two dimensional picture of the US from our individual small screens, large billboards, fast food chains and 24 hour news shows.  It is lacking real depth of what it truly means to be an American.  The people I meet give me another necessary dimension.

The two young boys fishing by the lake are eager to show me the bullhead they caught on their first cast.  A bachelor farmer works to create a flower garden that will only be visited by the birds and bees.  Another farmer "retires" from dairy farming just to get into the beef cattle business.  It is better hours although he still cannot take a day off or afford to hire help.
A mother tells me over our fourth of July picnic of how she has finally pulled her son from hockey after four concussions and numerous trips to the emergency room.  Her son missed months of school and now needs a tutor.
There are four vegetarians at the picnic and this leads to interesting discussion into the eating habits of Americans and healthier products on the market. The kids go out fishing hoping to catch dinner.

A mother at the gym tells me about her son's recent trip to compete in London with a car his school built.  The car won third in the world after a performance of 530 m/gal.  Her son has been involved with the car building since 7th grade. The gym is part of the local small town school which is undergoing a building project this summer of new classrooms. A teacher there is concerned she won't get into her new classroom in time for the new year, but proud of the fact that this school is expanding while others are closing their doors due to a dwindling rural community.

At a community church lunch a recent graduate of the school tells me she is going on to work on her masters while volunteering locally.  She would like to find a job nearby and stay close to family and friends. She is attending a bachelorette party for her friend, who has just completed her masters and was fortunate to be able to find a job in a nearby town.
I sit next to a man who tells me how his son, after serving in Iraq, has been battling PTSD for 10 years while saving lives as an EMT at home.

My son's friends and cousins are enjoying the summer.  I ask them who they are voting for in the next election and they tell me they aren't voting.  They have little interest in politics.  They have jobs or college places lined up and their future looks good, no matter who the president is.  I realize that the next US president may matter more to me, a frequent visitor to this country, than it does to these young people.  They still believe everything is possible and no politician will change that for them.

I won't judge them, but enjoy their optimism.

Celebrating the Midwest

 Joining thousands of others, we are going north to the family cabin/lake home to celebrate the Fourth.  We will get out the water skis and fishing poles, grill meat and enjoy time together around the fire in the evenings.  There will be children, dogs, motor boats, fireworks and guitar playing.  Nothing out of the ordinary, just honoring a timeless tradition of spending time with family in the great outdoors.
Our family has been coming up here, driving on the back roads across the Minnesota farmland, for over 20 years. I barely notice the miles of corn and beans, but appreciate the big skies and open country. We drive through the small towns of New London, New Ulm, Belgrade and

Montevideo, reminding me that I am not the first European or South American to come this way. Most of the drive is remarkably similar, with small farms and trees breaking up the flat farm land.  But you can, like me, take a wrong turn to Sleepy Eye and come across peacocks crossing the road, and watch whole flocks of pelicans land on one of the many pond-sized lakes.  We find the landscape soothing and are not surprised by the oddities.

To truly appreciate this part of the US you only really need three things: the first of these is a credit card. You will be rarely asked to pay cash; handing over cash makes doing business awkward. Most people would rather bill you later and get a check in the mail.  But a credit card is enough to give people the reassurance needed to make things happen.  Jon was able to rent a car with only a credit card.  He had misplaced his wallet and had no ID or driver's license.  Come to think of it, I'm not sure how he was able to board the plane after we returned the car.

Second, you need a car or some sort of vehicle. They are easy to come by and no one would dream of depriving you of your own mode of transportation. This was shown to us in a quite dramatic way while on a family road trip through South Dakota.  Our van broke down in Mitchell and we found we had no cell phone service. Jon went to the nearby Walmart to buy a phone, and got talking to an employee who new someone at the local car dealership. They agreed to open up for us the next morning, which was Sunday. We barely had time to worry about what we would do overnight, because a stranger quickly understood our plight, hooked up his truck and towed us into town to the dealership. He was off so quickly we didn't even have time to properly thank him.

As promised, the dealership opened Sunday morning, and sold us a car, asking for nothing more than a personal check.  We were on our way!
The third requirement needed to truly appreciate the midwest is family.  I married into a family where two Jahnke brothers married two Jacobs sisters. And due to the number of their siblings, few people in the area are not related to a Jahnke or Jacobs. This makes everything easier as everyone treats you like family.

I have run out of gas before on the side of the road and felt stranded for only a short while. Then somebody stops and asks where I am going. Of course they know Ron Jahnke, they used to play ball together! He drops me at my door and my car is rescued by another relative soon after.
But if you are feeling the urge to explore the great Midwest, and you have a credit card, don't let the fact that you don't have family here put you off.  I can put you in touch and you will be well on your way.