Cidade Maravilhosa

Last month I spent a couple of days in Rio de Janeiro. It was the first time I had been back there since the summer of 2003, when I lived there for three months.

One night I went back to my favorite place in Rio, a big rock called Arpoador (Harpooner) that juts out into the Atlantic Ocean, dividing the beaches of Copacabana and Ipanema. I used to go there as often as I could to watch the sunset, and I managed to get there just in time to see it again.

There were probably 200 people scattered around the big rock. Some were fishing, but most were there, like me, to watch the sun set over the Dois Irmaos, or Two Brothers, the massive rocks that loom over the southern end of Rio.
As I sat there waiting, the sound of voices and laughter floated down and mixed with the noise of the waves crashing against the rocks below us, before drifting into the evening sky. But as the sun got closer to the horizon, the voices grew hushed and the crowd was quiet and we all stared in silence as the fiery globe disappeared into the sea.

Then, just as the top of the sun dropped below the horizon line, the whole crowd erupted in approval, and the evening air was filled with applause and cheers in appreciation of the show.

I love Brazil.

(The top photo is taken from my hotel window. The hotel was under renovation, so the whole building was wrapped in a semi-transparent gauze-like material. The photo that came out of it reminded me of a painting my brother might do.)

Thanksgivings Past

Last week we spent Thanksgiving at the beach in Ventura and it was fantastic. As we were sitting down for dinner looking out over the ocean, I thought of Khartoum, Sudan, where I spent the first Thanksgiving of our marriage. I was working for USAID and left two weeks after our Honeymoon for six weeks in Sudan, where we were working on the Darfur crisis.

While in Sudan, we all lived in a house a few miles from the U.S. Embassy, which I called "Real World Khartoum." One man, Jim, had been there for months, and cooking was his outlet. He decided to prepare a big Thanksgiving dinner for all of us, and and he even ordered a Turkey for $300 that was flown in all the way from Amsterdam on the biweekly KLM flight.

Although the Turkey made the flight, it never made it beyond the airport in Khartoum, where overzealous Sudanese customs agents suspected our prize cargo of carrying bird flu and incinerated our turkey (along with Jim's last hope at sanity). Somehow a frozen Turkey from Amsterdam was a bigger threat and a higher priority for them than genocide in Darfur...

Since the embassy was closed on Thanksgiving, we took a rare day off (we were working seven days a week) and organized a trip to some pyramids along the Nile at a place called Meroe up near the Egyptian border. So I spent Thanksgiving morning on camelback riding through the Sudanese desert.

And when we got home, Jim had managed to find some chicken in a little market in Khartoum and we had a fine Thanksgiving after all. I don't think I would recommend Thanksgiving (or Spring Break, for that matter) in Khartoum, but it made for a memorable holiday.

Beijing Revisited

Kim wanted to bring bring Shawn Johnson home with us. She is so tiny she easily would have fit in my carry on. On a somewhat unrelated note, we were thinking about bringing a few Chinese babies home with us at one point, but it turns out we won't need to steal one anymore.
Kim took this fantastic picture of Usain Bolt after he demolished the world record in the 100m. However, during this politically charged season, I must warn you: his first name is awfully close to "Hussein", which might mean he pals around with terrorists. Sarah Palin told me that.
They held the Olympic equestrian events in Hong Kong so we ended up going there for a quick trip. Too quick. That city is amazing.
This is part of the closing ceremony. I was told that BOCOG (organizing committee) built a replica Bird's Nest stadium on the outskirts of Beijing just so they could practice this show while the Bird's Nest was being used for Track & Field events. I would have believed that if the same people hadn't told me the Chinese women's gymnasts were all 16 years old.

Elizabeth's Wedding

We were in Salt Lake in early September for Elizabeth's and Brady's wedding. I can't say much for the Florence boys, but the Florence girls sure turned out pretty well. Isn't Elizabeth a beautiful bride?

The wedding was beautiful and the reception at the Mountain House was perfect.
Mr. and Mrs. Brady Ashdown
Brady, Elizabeth, and the next generation of Florences. I love this picture.
Here is the original cast. From left, Nathan, Andrew, Elizabeth, Susanna, Paul, and Alex.

Beijing 2008

We went to China for the Olympics. We took over 1,000 pictures but don't worry, I won't post them all. Even if I could figure out how to post more than 4 at a time on this blog. No wonder I don't post more often.
Kim (yes, I'm using her real name now. She never reads this, so it's not like it matters) doesn't like this picture, but I do.
There were 91,000 of these guys deployed in Beijing on the night of Opening Ceremonies alone. Sweet crowd control.

Kim fell in love with this guy. That's okay, I guess I did too.

Wanderings

While the Hotbed has obviously cooled over the last few weeks, we have a good excuse. We were on the road for most of the month of May. I started the trek in the Middle East, where I made my way from Dubai to Abu Dhabi to Bahrain to Saudi Arabia to Kuwait to Qatar. After the Middle East I had some meetings in Paris, so Agnes met me there. For some reason it took me several days to convince Agnes to fly to Paris in the springtime where everything but the flight would be covered on the company's dime, but I eventually won out. I think she was holding out for better company, but she finally gave in.

For those of you are ever planning on traveling anywhere, talk to Agnes first. She is the ultimate traveler and a fantastic trip planner. We saw most of Paris in a few action-packed days. But keep in mind, Agnes' tours are not for the faint of heart. I think we walked about 20 miles a day. Luckily she let me stop for crepes, macaroons, ice cream, and a lot of other snacks along the way.

On the last day we were there, ALL the museums in the city were free and open until 2 AM. We would still be living somewhere in one of the museums like in "From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler" if it were up to Agnes. If you don't know that book, read it now.

As for Saudi Arabia, it has to be the strangest place I've ever been. The Saudis may not like Americans, but they LOVE American things, like Chevy Caprices and Applebee's. And while you can't get Applebee's riblets anywhere in the Kingdom (I think you can get beheaded for ordering pork), you can get jalapeno poppers.

Oh, and the next time you pay $4.50 a gallon for gas, try to think of a rich Kuwaiti or Saudi sheikh in his Prada ski suit learning to ski in the brand-new indoor ski resort in Dubai, and take comfort in the knowledge that you're paying for it.

Dream On

This morning as I was getting up for work, Agnes rolled over and told me in a groggy voice filled with concern that she hadn't slept very well. The following conversation ensued:

Paul: Why didn't you sleep well?
Agnes: I was having some really bad dreams.
Paul: Oh really? What did you dream about?
Agnes: I dreamed that your mom died, and then we went out to dinner, and over dinner you told me you were a transvestite. And while you were telling me, the waitress told us that our car had been towed.
Paul: Don't worry, honey, two out of three of those things never happened.

Relieved, Agnes rolled over and went back to sleep. And I slipped on on my favorite pair of fishnets and stilettos and tiptoed out the door to work.

(Okay, that very last part isn't true, but the rest happened exactly as I described it here. Oh, and instead of "transvestite", she said "trannie")