Thursday, July 22, 2010

I dream everything I have fits in a backpack...

I lived in the US for 18 months, day by day, thinking this moment would take longer to come, that it was in a very distant future. But it’s here. It’s time to pack and go home. And those are two scary – for lack of a better word – things to do. I’m not a great shopper, and I really don’t mind getting rid of things (if it’s not my books) so I shouldn’t have had problems. But it turns out a year and a half made me have a lot of absolutely necessary stuff.
I’m trying to be cool about all this, but each drawer emptied is like a Pandora box of surprises and memories (like the winter boots that are so warm and cute and I have no idea when I’m going to see snow again! Not to mention how the heck I’m going to fit them in my suitcase?). Now I look at my (ex) room and it’s so empty, impersonal, ready for the new AuPair to take her place.
I do my chores thinking it`s only one more week to go and then I`m not an AuPair anymore. I`m just Ana. One more week… and I`ll miss these wonderful kids so much!
I came here to find myself. Yeah, that`s a damn ambitious thing to do in 18 months. I thought I could figure everything out and go back home absolutely sure of who I am and what I`ll do. Guess what? That`s not how life works. I lost myself in lazyness and fun. But also in great trips and friendships. It was worthy. I allowed myself to have the time of my life.
I don`t even need to mention how much I grew mature and independent. Stronger, but in some ways, more sensitive. Being away messed my heart up!
As I try not to think too much of how I`m going to miss the friends I made, the lifestyle I got so used to and try not to feel that going home is a step back in my life, I go in practical mode, researching – jobs, universities, opportunities. I think about my book, about seeing my family and old friends. I think, think, think and I wish there was a little button to switch it off.

(Ana Elisa)

Monday, July 12, 2010

McLoone's Pier House has just lost some costumers

Gi and I went to the beach last Sunday, to finally enjoy a beautiful day by the sea and get some tan. But we also wanted to watch the World Cup Final so as soon as we got there we asked around and looked for a place to see it. The woman at the diner we had breakfast told us to come back and they’d put it on. At least we had an option in case we didn’t find a more exciting place.
After having as much sun and sand as a normal person can have, we decided to check out the boardwalk/mall they have there. It took us a while of going around to find a bar/restaurant with tvs. It was very nice, with a beautiful view of the beach, we couldn’t ask for more. We chose our seats right at the bar, waited for about 10 minutes, I went to the restroom and came back and they had just served Gi her beer. I sat, waited (and waved) for another while until one of the waiters looked at me and asked what I wanted. The game started and everything was fine, the bar was busy, I could imagine how hard it can be for them.
We enjoyed the game (120 minutes), our beers (six, I think), but everytime we needed a waiter we had to pretty much grab their shirts (figuratively). We felt invisible, sitting with our empty cups for ages, but then we saw that it wasn’t only us, other people were complaining too. So the problem wasn`t us, it was bad service in general. I told the waitress I didn’t want another and she put our bill in a cup in front of us (it didn’t mean Gi was done too).
Game over, Spain won (yay!) and I was dying to see them hold the Cup but as soon as we payed our bill the waiter changed the channel and started spraying and cleaning the counter (he actually sprayed us!). Gi and I looked at each other and took a deep breath, when the other guy came asking if the tip was correct (U$1,80 – our bill was U$41,20).
We went around the counter, to the last tv showing the World Cup, and he came and changed the channel, without even asking, or apologizing. Gi left, but I said “Excuse me, we`re still watching that.” “Baseball is on now.” “Can we just finish…?” “Do you want your two dollars back?” And that was the last straw. I`m a coward, I don`t fight, I don’t argue, and when I get nervous I forget English. We left and I was so mad at myself for not replying, for not saying that if they wanted big tips they should offer a better service and respect their costumers.
And that left us thinking and discussing a lot about service, tipping and human nature in general. I think I should improve my emotional intelligence, my arguing skills, but at the same time, I pity him, he won`t get any farther in life acting like that and although the situation made me feel mad at myself it also made me feel glad I am not the asshole.
Gi e eu fomos à praia domingo passado, pra finalmente aproveitar um dia lindo à beira-mar e pegar um bronze. Mas a gente também queria assistir a final da Copa, então logo que chegamos, procuramos um lugar legal. A mulher do diner que tomamos café falou pra gente voltar e eles passariam o jogo. Pelo menos tínhamos uma opção, caso não encontrássemos um lugar mais bacana.
Depois de ter aproveitado o máximo de sol e areia que uma pessoa normal consegue, decidimos conferir um “mall” que tem lá na orla. Demorou, andamos um bocado até encontrar um bar/restaurante com televisão. Era agradável, com uma vista linda da praia, não podíamos querer mais. Escolhemos nossos lugares no bar, esperamos por uns 10 minutos, fui ao banheiro e voltei e eles tinham acabado de servir a cerveja da Gi. Eu sentei, esperei (e acenei) por um tempo, até que um dos garçons olhou para mim e perguntou o que eu queria. O jogo começou e estava tudo bem, o bar estava lotado, imagino o que seja difícil pra eles.
Vimos o jogo (120 minutos), tomamos nossas cervejinhas (seis, eu acho), mas sempre que precisávamos de um garçom, tínhamos que agarrá-los pela camisa (figurativamente). Nos sentimos invisíveis, sentadas com os copos vazios por uma eternidade, mas depois vimos que não era só com a gente, outras pessoas estavam reclamando também. Então o problema não era nós, era mau atendimento em geral. Eu disdisse à garçonete que não queria outra e ela colocou a conta em um copo na nossa frente (não significava que a Gi também não queria).
Fim de jogo, a Espanha venceu (eba!) e eu morrendo de vontade de vê-los receber a Taça, mas logo que pagamos nossa conta o garçom mudou o canal e começou a bater um spray e limpar o balcão (na verdade ele borrifou foi a gente!). Olhamos uma pra cara da outra e respiramos fundo, quando o outro cara veio perguntar se a gorgeta estava certa (U $ 1,80 - a nossa conta deu U $ 41,20).
Demos a volta no balcão, porque tinha uma última TV mostrando a entrega dos títulos, e ele veio e mudou o canal, sem falar nada, ou pedir desculpas. Gi saiu, mas eu disse: "Licença, ainda estamos assistindo." “Agora tá passando baseball.” “A gente pode terminar ...?" Você quer seus dois dólares de volta?" E essa foi a gota d’água. Eu sou uma covarde, eu não brigo, eu não discuto, e quando eu fico nervosa eu esqueço inglês. Saímos e eu estava tão brava comigo mesma por não ter respondido, por não ter dito que se eles quisessem gorgeta gorda que devem oferecer um melhor atendimento e respeito a seus clientes.
E isso nos deixou pensando e conversando muito sobre atendimento, gorgeta e natureza humana em geral. Eu acho que deveria melhorar a minha inteligência emocional, a minha habilidade de argumentação, mas ao mesmo tempo, tenho pena, ele nunca irá longe na vida agindo assim e apesar de a situação me fazer sentir raivinha de mim também me fez sentir feliz porque eu não sou o estúpido.