a nice Sunday

With just 48 hours until departure, I am a big emotional mess. Today we enjoyed a really lovely church service - they're all really lovely at this church - where I just tried to soak up the mood and the music and the message, all of which are always so inspirational.

Then Mac and I treated ourselves to brunch at the Hilton. About a week ago, Mac announced that he would like to go for brunch one more time - Jimmy and I have clearly created a monster whose taste exceeds his parental budgetary constraints. But I figured why not? After all, how many "last Sundays" do we get in Sao Paulo?

So we went and had a real-life lesson in how different perceived socio-economic classes are treated differently. Every time we've gone to the Hilton, we've always been in the minivan that has the very distinctive blue consulate plates. And as soon as the car has hit the pavement of the entrance circle, valets have run out to meet us. Today, we pulled up in Jimmy's little beater car and nobody came running to meet us. We sat in the car for a few seconds. Nada. So Mac and I walked over to the valet stand where there were at least 4 valets standing there. And I told them in Portuguese that every other time we'd come in a consulate car, we'd had a huge welcoming committee, but today we're in a local-plated, very low-profile car and nobody comes. And that I thought that was an interesting little sociological study. Well of course, they apologized over and around themselves and told me that that wasn't the case, blah, blah, blah. But why, if that's not the case, did not one of these 4 gentlemen come over to get the keys from me? Were they seeing who drew the short straw and had to park the beater car when they were sure a Mercedes was going to come in right behind me? Rest assured that when we came out to pick up the car, we got service like I was the Queen of England (who is trying to cut back on the budget and drives a cheap car). And again, they apologized, but again, their behavior confirms that people who are perceived to be rich (and we're talking "perceived" wealth because we're certainly no richer driving the minivan than we are in the VW) get much better treatment in this country and probably any country for that matter.

Enough of my rant. We had a delightful and delicious brunch and our favorite Tatiana was our very pleasant server. Today I started with an assortment of salads that were all beautifully prepared and presented and then moved on to all this delicious hot food including this grilled steak that was so divine before finishing up with a trio of desserts - a cream puff, tiramisu, and a strawberry mille feuile. All yummy and all delicious and I'm sure not less than 4000 calories. But did I mention it was our last Sao Paulo Sunday, so who cares if I ate 4000 calories. Just so you know, Mac ate spaghetti which he declares is the best spaghetti in Sao Paulo and lots and lots and lots of ice cream.

I had promised Mac yesterday that we'd drive over the new bridge in Sao Paulo today (because I missed the turnoff for it yesterday). That stupid bridge is humongous and you'd think it would be easier to see how to get on it. But I spent 45 minutes driving up and down the Marginal trying to get on that bridge. About 35 minutes into this terrible effort, Mac told me he wanted to nap. When we finally approached the bridge start, I woke him up and told him to look because we were going over it and wouldn't you know that he was back asleep before we got off the bridge????

(As an aside, at some point during our Sunday afternoon drive, Mac asked me if Daddy's car was bullet-proof (this is not a conversation one ever has with their children in a place like Moncks Corner unless Daddy happens to drive the armored truck that takes money to the ATM machines). I told him no, Daddy's car was not bullet-proof and then he went on to tell me some of his friends who have bullet-proof cars (which is very common here). I asked him if the friend's car was heavy (meaning is the door heavy when you open it because they are awfully heavy and you definitely know you're opening an armored door). He misunderstood and said he wasn't sure because he hadn't tried to pick up the car!!)

Our evening ended at our church's despedida that they have every year to send off anybody who's leaving Sao Paulo. I'm just a big cry baby anyway, so this was just another opportunity for Kleenex to make more money. It was a very intimate and personal event - Mac and I had our own special time and were asked what we'd miss, what we wouldn't miss, where we were going, what we'd be doing, and any special prayer requests and then we were prayed for by someone who knows us. In our case, my dear friend Laura prayed for us and it was just so meaningful. And then everybody sang what I chose as our favorite hymn, "It Is Well With My Soul". I feel so blessed by our church family and our preacher and his family. They're going to be a tough act to follow.