The constant culture change continues. I make my way now to my sister Aran and her family in North Carolina. A relatively short plane ride and non existent time change and I'll be there. I've awoken from a relatively useless sleep to the smell of warm croissants and the Florida coast beneath me. The poor stewardess in the aisle is being followed closely by a balding 250 pounder (125 kg) with a pronounced lecherous afterglow. The fellow just emerged from the toilet looking well relieved and was apparently overcome by the sight and smell of her warm buns. Under the guise of returning to his seat he has maintained a proximity to those buns that could only be described as high and tight (we still maintain about 20,000ft. of elevation and if he gets any closer there will be inquiries).

Plane travel would not be complete without a stern dose of airport questioning. Pre-boarding something to the tune of:

"Has anyone given you something to take on board"
"Well, as it turns out, a moment ago some chap named Sam O'Laden requested I transport this container of juicy fruits on his behalf"
"Interesting, well enjoy your flight sir."

It was, however, the United States border officials that work hardest to mix it up. Makes me wonder how in the world those with limited English escape the rubber gloves and a lifetime of asking "Why me?". The line of questions I was subjected to (minimal compared to others considering my "true blue" passport) was something along the lines of the following:

"What was the purpose of your travil to Brazil?"
"Oh yeah, and its awful hot out there in Phoenix this time of year huh?"
"By the way what does your wife do out there late on a Friday afternoon?"
"Yeah, yeah and at what age did you learn to swim the breaststroke?"
"Ok, I think we're through here. Gracias."

I breathed sweet relief for the gentle Brazilian in front of me in line, who when asked his purpose in visiting the United States (question given in harsh tones and confusing verbiage) had spouted through obvious work of memorization "I hayve come he' to perfom' stateestical anal-ysees fo' my IT business." The fellows behind the glass who had begun preparing the white gloves were obviously dissapointed and the lad was allowed to pass through.

Ok, obviously airport experiences are hardly the name of the game here. A final week in Brazil and all that that entailed is what needs mention. The majority of the time was spent again in Sao Paulo and included many a visit, time to connect with more of my old friends from the days in Poland, and a final day of literal shop until near drop. Carla organized a wonderful last week of activity. Immediately upon arrival in Sao Paulo after 24 hours in a bus we raced across town and spent the day with a wonderful couple who are at year's end to depart for mission's work in Egypt (will be doing work in building community programs for children living on the street) with the eventual goal of being accepted long term into Iraq. With them we spent a wonderful afternoon of non stop chatter (my choice of energy drink) about the work of God in our lives. These people understood like few people I have known how friendship is built and so it was a wonderful beginning to my final week. Later last week Carla and I spend time with Maronildo and Juliana whom I had met in Poland also. The two prepare now to go and live in China for an indefinite period of time. Juliana has made a rapid and independant acquisition of English making for a wonderful chance to chat about all that God has done in their lives and in mine. I had in my few weeks in Brazil acquired enough Portugeuse to chat with Maronildo more than we have ever been able in past and this also was wonderful because his is such a relationship and friendship driven heart. The two will live deep into China and in the midst of acquiring the language will also begin working with street children. Was a gift to have this afternoon with them as the two are so genuine in their love and friendship. Their departure home in the evening brought tears to Maronildo's eyes and I can tell you I often wish for the ability to feel a loss in that way. As I mentioned a post or two ago my Irish hardness seems to keep a tight lid there.

Another highlight was to have my first experience of the Brazilian coast. Carla and I were invited to spend the weekend by a friend of hers living in Sao vicente, one of Sao Paulo state's coastal cities. A wonderful place to spend my last days. We spent the days wandering the harbor and beach parks, being treated as honored guests in the home of her friend, and as a wonderful treat for me seeing some Brazilian soccer. I got to see Santos play, the team that is most known as Pele's career club. It was great to see Brazilian culture in action in the attitude and enthusiasm of the fans who from beginning to end jumped up and down and kept a continaul drumbeat going even at moments of lackluster play. I am so happy to have spent that last weekend in that way, relaxed and surrounded in the atmosphere and beauty of the coast. I returned to Sao Paulo Sunday and had only Monday to do a whirlwind shopping day in the center before my departure on Monday evening. I enjoy the hectic scene of the Brazilian market areas so it was fun having to struggle through crowds and tiny shops to find culinary goodies to bring back with me.

I am in North Carolina with Aran know and will try to begin soon to write about time and experience here. I thank God for the joy of my experience of Brazilian people and culture. I was a blessing to my friends there and was certainly blessed by the experience of them and their beautifully mixed nation. When the pictures make it up today or tomorrow you can see the people I met and the coastal city that I traveled to.

Here I am amidst a twenty four hour bus journey contemplating life’s intricacies and a clean pair of shorts. Having a first and hopefully paddy last travel experience. That of attempting to lip-read in a foreign language. The chap ahead of me has decided that volume is an unnecessary element of communication yet desires to impart to me the historical and environmental richness of the passing landscapes and cities. This has been going on now for no short period of time and my appearance of absolute confusion has not deterred his efforts. Even his son has joined in the excitement; only moments ago having pointed to the seat in front of me, spoken something without volume but major lip and eyebrow movement, and proceeded to vigorously nod his head to beg for my agreement. One hardly wishes to disappoint vigorous gesticulation and so I responded with a little of my own slight lip movement and mild nodding so as to please yet avoid profound conversation conducted in such a manner. My patient understanding of his father supposedly making me an expert in the art of reading foreign lips.

Why one might ask is twenty four hours of seat soiling a necessity? Interestingly enough in Brazil it is hardly a great feat in terms of patience and the prolonged consumption of organic (moss flavored, textured, and taste filled) energy bars. I learned yesterday that Brazil is larger than the continental United States (meaning minus Alaska and Hawaii) so excessive bus journeying is one element of normality. This particular bowel basher involves my exit from the land of Bahia, specifically Vitória da Conquista, and return to São Paulo for final days before departure.

So tell all about week three huh. Apparently the slew of known female individuals in Vitória da Conquista had been informed that I was a hug lover and therefore in desperate need. There was hardly a moment of departure or introduction not consummated with a tightly given squeeze. Sadly the bestower/recipient of said hugs was typically of the 60+, minimum 35+, variety. Those with a bit more life left in ‘em had allegedly taken for the hills at word of my arrival. This should not be misinterpreted to mean that I am not the aforementioned hug lover but noted that in moments such as this a young lad can begin to feel like a well used hanky in flu season. This squeeze dynamic is however a good indication of the type of week I had. A family week, a food week, a true week of Brazilian culture.

It was the type of tranquil city where one often stumbles upon the weekly family reunion (meaning up to twenty cousins and their predecessors) at Grandma’s house. It was my week with Warlens and Marilia (more friends from those first days in Poland) but more than that a week to be invited into the hearts of their families. Small city meant that their families had more time and it meant that I was treated to some of the best food this nation has on offer in the midst of greater understanding of the family culture. I learned, out of necessity, many words in Portuguese very quickly in order to express what little I could to those many family members who wished to know me. I went to lunches, to birthday parties for toddlers, to small shopping centers with name “Big Shopping”, to a preschool to help out with the mother’s day festivities, and to many a distant relative for cursory hugs, smiles, and nods. It was wonderful to meet with families that have managed to stay so well connected. Also that now Warlens and Marilia’s English has improved so that we could share so much of what has happened in our lives in these last two years. To be an encouragement for them and also to be encouraged by their care for me in my week there.

Well, the enjoyment continues. What a gift to have been able to explore a few of the regions of this place. Take a look at the new album of pictures that I put on Lovable Quirks. Pictures of the kids from the preschool in the early part, in the middle pictures with Warlens and Marilia and their families, and in the end a few from the long bus ride back to Sao Paulo. If you haven´t already do not forget to read the post below about Phoenix. Also I would love to receive comments if there are any to be given. A writer loves feedback, at least for this one that will never change.

I want to take a break from Brazil for this one and tell something of my time in Phoenix. Might as well start from the top. The joyous first reunion with family. The tears, wailing mothers, flashing cameras, nieces and nephews racing to welcome blessed uncle home. Thank God for the reality check. In that wondrous moment of exiting the airport security zone from the corner of my eye came the sight of the cheersquad. Big smiles, faces filled with longing, and of course the accompanying banner of bright colored welcome. In my interim it seemed, my relatives had become somewhat blonder and the group somewhat larger but nevermind the particulars. In a flash gone were the memories of my first return and the speedy pick up by the roadside. Oh what rapture! I strained to read the banner and saw with ecstasy the words ¨Welcome Home S____¨, the fool at banner´s end having crumpled the text. To see my name their in big print in glorious welcome. Warm´s the soul. Suddenly then the cheersquad erupted in cheers and the banner was quickly adjusted to reveal ¨Welcome Home Shane¨ for all the airport to see. Members of ¨his¨ cheersquad began clutching one another in unnatural ways. Tears began to pour over pudgy cheeks and younsters of many sizes and shapes were let loose to race toward their hero. From the corner of another eye (I have a few) I then noticed a familiar sight. Partially hidden behind a pole the forms of my brother and sister. Brother standing in a pose that would do Elton John proud and sister looking forlorn and lethargic. The two did not adjust their position so with much haste I scurried through Shane´s cheersquad in all its revelry, soiled faces, and continued unnatural clutching. Certainly I understand the whys. My year abroad hardly a blip compared with Shane´s weekend in the Bahamas to study his long division. Who knows welcome better than family. I bleedin´ ask ya´.

If that is not fun to write I do not know what is. This next bit perhaps a little less. Regrets. Longings of yet another time passed where I must say the word ¨goodbye¨. Where were its highlights? Certainly new birth tops them all. The birth of my sister Tara´s second child Alilee-Kate and the opportunity of this proud and grateful uncle to witness her arrival into this world. I shall never forget that moment when I saw the form of my beautiful little niece as she emerged into this world. In the midst of speaking ¨Keep going Tara, she´s almost there¨ I choked back such tears of joy as would overwhelm the heart with gladness. But the time for overwhelming emotion had yet to arrive as my help was needed and with all of my will I had to maintain my composure for my sister. A moment later out Kate came and moaned her sweet and miraculous first breaths of life but as is my nature I maintained my strength for my sister, for this baby, and for this situation of new life. Again when I was asked only a moment later to collect some necessaries for this early moment of life I nearly collapsed when alone upstairs from the emotion that was so heavy. But I could not for surely the sitution still demanded me. So weak kneed and with eyes full with tears I ¨pulled myself together¨ and raced back with what I had been asked to get. I have never cried those tears. Never let those joyful emotions come from a heart that longs to let them out. The time will come but can you believe this Irish heart has held them now more than a month. This is not only a remembrance of incredible joy but of realization and regret that my temperment can rob from me the purity of experiencing emotion in the midst of the situation which called it forth.

I must finish now but this story is not. More to come.

When I depart from Brazil in a week's time will I remember this place in terms of its cityscapes, its architecture? Certainly not, because for me that is hardly where lies its charm. In fact if all that it contained were the urban sprawls that I have visited I might not wish to return again. No, the charm of this place lies in its people. Their laughter, dance, music, family connectdness, mixed cultures, and their desire to know this stranger whom they have heard about in stories from Europe.

My week spent with Raudson and Silvana and their son Nikolas in Belo Horizonte at the YWAM (Youth With A Mission) missionary base was a high point of joy in my life. I don't believe that I have ever spent so much time laughing my ungainly head off. Cheeks (don't get any ideas, I mean face) hurting like mad, tears in the eyes laughter. Not to mention metro riding laughter, scarfing down more rice and beans laughter, late night laughter (resulting in questions the next day from other families), laughter over the ridiculous nature of living in a place called Praia (meaning beach) with not a beach in sight for at least 6 hours hard driving, and uproarious laughter centered around one man's (past news story) passion for gym toes (slightly obscure reference but the name Veechum will ring some bells). Those who know me well know that that is not a regular occurance. There are few things that get this chap doing heavy duty chuckles and those few are kept close if at all possible.

Then perhaps best of all is that the laughter was merely icing atop a cake made of real relationship. Wake up to bed time filled with conversation about all sorts but primarily a sharing of the wonder of living this life following and learning of Jesus in each moment. I was and am absolutely inspired by two people who for twenty one years have lived off of literally nothing but in faith traveled to all corners of the globe bringing the message of hope and new life to thousands of people. They succeeded with others there in building from scratch a base of training and learning that is now sending out the willing to touch and minister to some of the toughest areas of the globe. And one might think the constant struggle to continue would take from my friends their peace, their joy, but as I have seen and experienced this could not be said of them. Rather theirs is a home where joy and contentment is felt in great measure and made me at least feel so comfortable and relaxed. What a gift and a legacy their lives pass on now to their three year old son Nikolas. To students at the YWAM base like Jackie who have the opportunity to learn from them and experience the joy of their company. Jackie being the one pictured with Silvana in the photo album now on Lovable Quirks. She is from England, a student and English teacher at the base; another with whom many an hour of conversation was spent. It was nice to meet someone on this side of the globe who appreciates the English/Irish sense of humor and was familiar with such as Blackadder's comedic genius.

So this post commemorates week two in Brazil (I do realize that the end of week three rapidly approaches). Remembering of course "pikos" (Raudson's version of pickles); gym toes; cheiro (smell) and tumba (tomb) which sound like words from African music; and attempting to teach the difference between "beat" and "bit", "beach" and its similar sounding word. What joy! And what inspiration as I too am in the process of beginning my life anew in Poland.

The pictures on Lovable Quirks deserve explanation. The first ten come from Sao Paulo. My week spent with Carla and her family. Pictured also is William with whom Carla and I spent a day wandering the mad city streets. All the rest come from the YWAM base and from the city of Belo Horizonte. The base lay quite a ways out of town hence the toucans and copious foliage. Raudson, Silvana and Nikolas should be recognized from my time in Poland two years ago. The one picture where a red flower is growing horizontally is a parasite that somehow rooted itself in a cement electricity pole. The chickens pictured were sale items either for quick dinner choices or to be raised for later dinner choices.

Finally back to the writing board. It only took not one but two intercontinental journeys to accomplish the task. I´m sitting here staring down a delivered pizza, legless (in the literal, can hardly feel them sense), and pondering how in the world one such as I can leave home and family now three times and once again enter a new world 1000 miles from any I have ever known. In the midst of these ponderings, Portugeuse key words and phrases are fighting for precious memory betwixt the neurons. Sao Paulo´s finest four cheese is quickly losing its steamy goodness. The sense of an incredible loss is lurking somewhere in the recesses of my heart but for fear of completely overwhelming my emotions it remains for now only as a sense. What breed of lunatic inflicts such pain upon their heart. To have spent two months in such intense relationship with family and friends only to once again say goodbye. Now South America side to open the door for new depth of relationship with old friends and pave the way for new ones. Don´t I realize I have just four weeks before the "adieu's" begin again. 'Tis pure madness. Only one who knows that there are some purposes bigger that what is seen and stronger than current emotions would dare risk the pain of loss once more. One who has known and is again experiencing the joy and wonder of friendship.

It should be noted that the above was written some days ago but it has taken until now to be able to post anything. And what should I say about my first two weeks on a continent I have never before known. To summarize it has been a time of sweet relief. I had not known how exhausted I was after the physically, emotionally, and spiritually draining nature of the time in Phoenix. The time there was filled with absolutely priceless moments but two months of continuous intensity is not quickly recovered from. The attitude of my friends here in Brazil and the relaxed nature of the culture have combined to allow for much needed rest in the midst of incredible enjoyment.

My first week was spent exploring Sao Paulo, the heart of Brazil. A mammoth of a city with an incredible diversity of regions. Carla (all people mentioned from my time here I met two years ago in Poland and later traveled with to Lithuania) and at times her family made every effort to see that I witnessed as much of this diversity as possible. We wandered push-and-shove type crowded shopping streets, walked neighborhoods crammed with small colorful houses tightly packed, relaxed in what is apparently the largest of public parks in Latin America, and consumed a quantity of rice and beans (cuisine choices have not changed much) throughout those days that my body might have shuddered to receive previously. It was the start of my realization that rest was entirely necessary and my body willingly complied. Mornings never seemed so short as I could hardly drag myself from my humidity shrouded slumber and evenings of leglessnesses (including the aforementioned involving the four cheese) were never so profoundly felt. Perhaps the mental exhaustion contributed to my half hearted acceptance of warnings to keep my belongings suspiciously close to my body at all times and to attempt a constant vigilance of the surroundings. Thankfully my valiant guide kept watch over me in the hen and chick style so there was little to worry about. Apart from one situation where I squashed a fellow's fingers against his salesman's stall (the squashing being followed by a pronounced gutteral roar of a few syllables which I'm sure would make someone who understood the lingo blush) and another in which our bus driver was performing speed trials and hurtled my body into the gentle arms of an old man, our wanderings of the giant city would aptly been given the double thumbs up (this being a frequent gesture made by the locals).

I am no longer now in Sao Paulo and have much to say about the last week but for now the exhaustion continues and for today I must retire. Tomorrow I am heading further north on an 13 hour bus extraveganza to visit others of my precious friends. It is nice to write again after such a time. I hope the period of silence has not been too profoundly felt.