Confusion and Contrasts.

On Saturday, as we had been planning all week, Miracy and I went to her friend's apartment for lunch. On the way, we stopped at the grocery store for some ice cream (which is divine here... more on the sorbet side, but oh so delicious), and then drove the very short distance (three blocks) to the apartment. It took a bit longer than expected to get there, though, as Miracy's car kept stalling out. When we were actually in motion, the car was shaking ridiculously. That needs to be addressed. 

This apartment complex was super swanky, with a doorman and all. We rode in a mirror-clad elevator up to the second or third floor, where there were more mirrors on the walls. I've found that there is either an over-abundance of mirrors or none at all. I think they are used to reflect wealth (pun intended), in many cases. We rang the doorbell, and the door was flung open within seconds. Standing there was Miracy's friend, looking utterly confused. She and Miracy exchanged a few quick words, and we were invited in. The woman was young, in her forties, and the husband was not so young, in his seventies (Miracy had gone on and on about their marriage before we arrived. A different situation, no doubt). We sat down in their living room, which had a balcony overlooking the city (well, maybe not overlooking, exactly, seeing as we were only a few floors high, but anyways, it was a lovely view). Everything was so white in their apartment: slick white tiled floors, white walls, white curtains, white furniture... ah! bright!). Naturally, everything was also incredibly clean. As we sat and awkwardly talked, the housekeeper scrubbed the floors vigorously, explaining the high level of sanitation. 

Very abruptly, the husband and wife got up, bid us goodbye, and left. I thought they might be running and errand or something, but then I realized that they said, "Nice to meet you!" Plus, upon glancing at the dinner table, I noticed only two places were set for dining. Huh? Finally, after some time of not receiving an explanation, I asked Miracy what was up. Apparently, the couple forgot we were coming over until Miracy called to confirm that morning, and they had already made plans for their daughter to do some modeling work. They arranged for the housekeeper to prepare lunch for just us. I guess they felt bad about the mix up and didn't want to cancel? 

We sat down to lunch, just Miracy and I, and were served by the housekeeper. She brought out the food and poured our drinks. While we eat, she talked to us on and off while continuing her cleaning. The whole situation was simply uncomfortable. 1. We were eating in someone else's house... alone. 2. This sweet woman was serving us like a waitress. Unnecessary! I did not understand why she was not dining with us. Miracy seemed to not think anything of all of this, which I guess makes sense. Before coming here, I was told that most middle class and upper class families still had hired help. Often times, families have someone employed to just cook and someone else to clean, etc. In households without a full-time housekeeper, someone is still hired to clean at least once a week, staying the entire day, even washing clothes. The families cook lunch for the housekeeper sometimes, but it seems like dining together does not happen. Anyways, it is definitely commonplace to live such a lifestyle. I've noticed that in some apartment buildings built in the eighties there are back rooms for live-in help, or I guess at that point in time, servants. 

I know even in the United States, upper class families have servers and cooks, but something about this was different. I think the clear difference in class is what bothered me. This family had far lighter skin than the housekeeper, Ana, which I have found is pretty common. Judging from billboards and t.v. shows, light skin is definitely idealized here, unfortunately. Often times, these people featured on billboards have blond hair, which is not impossible for a Brazilian, given the great amount of Europeans here, but still... the majority is not being represented. 

Miracy's friends were by no means mistreating Ana or acting in a condescending way towards her, but every interaction made me feel uncomfortable, probably because of such cultural differences. As Ana cleared the table, I wanted so badly to help, but insisting upon such would have been inappropriate. Ay, I still don't quite know what to make of the situation. Ana seemed content, but she did mention to us the immense amount of work she does in order to meet her employers' standards (she works in several households during the week). Such a dear woman, though, and full of spirit. I loved listening to her talk about her family, especially her grandchild. Her heart truly lies with her family, which I think is what motivates her to work so hard (her son doesn't work). 

After lunch, we returned to the living room and watched some t.v. Nope, the family had yet to return; 'twas just Miracy and I watching their television. We did step out on the balcony for a bit to see the skyline. In one glance, I could see the skyscrapers in the distance and a flavela, or slum, right next-door. The street beside the apartment complex suddenly changes from paved to bumpy dirt, lined with small, boxy houses. All made of thin building materials and corrugated metal roofs, these homes were so very much the opposite of where I was standing. According to Miracy, with the onset of development in this neighborhood, Boa Viagem (one of the nicer neighborhoods in Recife), people living in flavelas are being pushed out. The government has been creating new homes for them in other locations, and these homes must be of equal or greater value than their old homes. Though these people are being placed in a "better" place, the location might be inconvenient or far from their families. A tough situation, for sure. 

Before leaving, we snuck a peek at the family's parrot. He chatted a little bit with us, but mainly just walked back and forth on his little perch/wooden bar. Man, I felt bad for the little guy. His cage was so small, and he trembled constantly. 

Alright, now that I have inadvertently made this family look heartless, I would like to say that they were actually very kind (in the little time that I interacted with them), and their lifestyle was nothing out of the ordinary for a Brazilian middle class family. I was merely taking it all in, and struggling with the many contradictions and cultural differences. It was an odd afternoon, no question. I never expected to learn so much or even chill alone in someone else's home. Thus is Brazil, though. A constant learning experience, full of the unexpected. Always!