I have come to realize over the past few months that seemingly easy and quick trips in Brasil are rarely quick and easy. Today was no exception.
My friend Denice was going to a few rock shop/souvenir shops after school today, and she asked if Christine & I wanted to go with her. I am finished with my Christmas shopping, but went along to see something new. This trip should have taken an hour and a half. Tops. It didn't.
Our trouble started with the GPS didn't recognize the address of the 1st shop. We had the phone number, but none of us are so great with portugues yet. Josiah, a high schooler who lives with Denice's family, called for us to get directions. The lady overheard us talking in the background, and gave us direction in English! Nice...
We found the first shop without a problem. Denice found the gifts she was looking for, and I found a few extra things to send home as well. We followed the GPS to get to the 2nd store, which was actually in the owner's house. We found the street, but couldn't find the right house. We drove up and down the street a few times, and even asked a guard for help... he was less than helpful! So finally we found the address listed in our PACA directory... and the house was for sale! The irony in this is that I had been to that house before with some friends, so I knew it wasn't the right place. So we ended up on the phone again... this time with Dave Santos. He called the store owner and asked her to meet us outside... The house was right across the street from where we were, but how were we supposed to know? I am sure that she thought we were dum-dum Americans, and we could only tell her in stumbling portugues that it wasn't our fault.
We finished our shopping, and decided we wanted some American comfort... McDonalds. We knew we couldn't handle the drive-thru... so we headed inside. They have workers that stand in front of the registers, and he directed me to a cashier. I got as far as "Eu quero...", and the girl stopped me, waved money, and then rattled off something in portugues. So I turn back to the first worker, and he just looks at me. Before I know it there are several workers and a manager standing there, looking at me, and yelling "She's American! She's American!" in portugues. Apparently the girl at the register was in training and was waiting for the manager so she could take my order. When they realized I didn't understand them, they felt that it was necessary to shout that I was American, drawing the attention of everyone in McDonalds. Better yet, my friends & I weren't sure how to ask for our food to go...
So our quick trip & fast food run lasted 3 hours. Moral of the story- when things happen the way you picture them in your mind, count your blessings! And when they don't, at least there's usually a good story!
