Letter 2: The Weekdays

Tim,

First, I’m going to answer the questions from last time. We stayed in Brazil for three weeks this time. My family and I stayed in a commercial hotel where my dad lives, which is in Sao Paulo. And of course, I enjoyed the cool winter there. It can sometimes be pretty hot, though. I do not like the humid weather, so I was happy that I missed a small part of summer. I am not sure how long my dad is going to work in Brazil. I wonder if he has ever thought about this question. But the fact is that he is a workaholic. Nothing can stop him from work.

Now, it’s time for the main point.

Since my dad has work on weekdays, Mom, Ariel (that’s my little sister), and I would stay in the hotel for most of the time. We live in a family room, which has two bedrooms, two bathrooms and a living room. There are no heaters in the room, so sometimes we move around with our blankets on our shoulder. It can be really freezing in the evening.

We get up early for our breakfast down stairs. The breakfast buffet stays almost the same throughout the year, so I usually have the fruits and boiled eggs. (The fruits don’t change either) Then, my dad goes to work. (I wonder why he isn’t sick of eating the same breakfast every day for years) The three of us rest for a moment and go to the small gym for some work out. We follow video clips for some burning exercise. After all the sweating, we take our baths and wash our clothes by hand since there were no washing machines in the hotel. Strange. We dry them with towels and hang them all acros the room. 

At noon, Dad comes back from work to take us to lunch. (Let me introduce some food next time) Then he takes us to a friend’s house (so that Ariel and I can practice piano) and he goes back to work. There is a cute dog there that is always excited when we visit. He is very cute and we loved practicing piano those days. When Ariel practices, I use my notebook to watch video clips of math classes in cram school. But I hate math, it is too hard. After practicing, we head back to the hotel and wait for my dad to bring us dinner.

A street paint by a Taiwanese graffiti artist.

Brazilians speak Portuguese, and my dad is very good at it now. Now he takes classes to learn Spanish after work. The classes take place on the second floor of the hotel. His Spanish teacher comes to our hotel to teach him. So sometimes, he brings back dinner but he doesn’t eat with us. He has to rush downstairs to take the classes. I wish I have time to learn those two languages, too.

This is the weekdays I spent in Brazil; on weekends, we go to other places which will soon be mentioned in letters. See you next letter!


Allison