From My Journal

December 5:  I’ll be leaving Brazil in February. As a result of some clear thinking about how to use an opening the ambassador-to-be gave me to push him early on how open he’d be to my sort of professionalism. He then made his own clear decision to have me leave a week after he gets here in late January. I have some loose ends to tie up the Department, like what my next job will be....

December 12:  Watched a little of a modern remake of The Tempest this afternoon.  Struck me that I was also a sort of magi who used powerful words to call down a storm and shipwreck the man who did him a dishonor.  Of course the results of magic, even when it works, is not entirely predictable.  Dealing with the quick saida has caused me some discomfort.  But it is simply impossible to walk down two paths at once.  In my case, I am tired of being a foreigner, tired of thinking about others people’s problems and telling them what to do about them.  (And no mistake, we are not all the same, all one family.  We are different nations and I doubt there are many who live abroad that would deny this.) 

Note:  The new ambassador was a political appointee.

99 Brasilia 04380: Security Chief Resigns After Demonstrator Dies At Brasilia Public Works Agency

99 Brasilia 04374: Demonstrator Dies At Brasilia Public Works Agency

November 1999: A Riff on Eating at a Churrascaria

It is a mid-November Saturday afternoon. Given that the sun is directly overhead, it should be rather warm. But with the clouds and rain, the sun hardly gets through and the temperature is cool and the air clean. I offer the following riff on my just completed lunch at Las Pampas. If I wait any longer to put this down, I'll be asleep.

After putting in a few hours in the office, I was feeling a bit hungry. Not so hungry as to be starving, but enough so that with facing many hours to the Marine Ball tonight, I thought I'd try a new churrasco. O churrasco (the barbecue) that I chose was Las Pampas.  (In Spanish since putting it thus might be supposed to have snob appeal. Some heathens still believe that the Argentines do barbecued meat better than the Brazilians. Silly notion because both countries have gauchos (cowboys), lots of cows and the tradition of cutting them up into chunks, roasting the chunks over charcoal fires and then eating great gobs of the resulting carne.  I admit, however, having eaten in Buenos Aires, that Argentine beef may be the best in the world. But I digress.).

The Las Pampas next to the Carrefoure hypermarket in Brasilia, should not, in any case, be expected to be of the highest class, and thus, perhaps, the appeal to Spanish. Indeed, it proved to be very much a place for the povao (pronounced poe- voun -- oun pronounced like in the English word noun and meaning "the common people"). The management noticed right away that I was a person of taste and class (i.e. someone for whom the local currency was no object). All during my subsequent meal they kept asking if I needed anything. With that prompting, I had three very cold beers and lots of meat. A churrasco works this way: you take your plate and go up to the salad bar and fill your plate with all sorts of greens, roasted, raw and pickled vegetables, cold cuts, cheeses and some things -- like quail eggs -- that I wouldn't eat anywhere. (In this case, I bravely plunged into the live greens since the only way to really know a restaurant is to see if you get sick after eating the local greens.) While you are making your way through this portion of the meal, rotating waiters begin bringing to your table various and sundry cuts of beef, pork, chicken, sausage, goat, etc (including -- ugh -- chicken livers). Some people allow the waiter to carve off slices of sizzling flesh at this point. The tourists gobble down the greens in order to feel better about the subsequent feast of cholesterol. (I tried on this occasion to push off the waiters but I tired of giving such offense and accepted a few morsels.) After the salad, you go back to the food bar and load up on the starches that will accompany the meats. These include French fries, fried manioc (yucca), rice, beans and various types of farofa. (Farofa is ground and roasted manioc. One of my favorites.) When you get this back to your table, you order another beer and really start pilling up the meat. Each person gets his/her own pincers to grab the meat as it comes off the spit. It goes onto a small sort of "holding-plate" until you take a piece onto the main plate for actually cutting and eating.

On this particular afternoon, my holding-plate soon became the ground floor for quite a pile. At one point the manager came up to my table with a look of alarm, asking if he could take it away since clearly the meat on the bottom of the pile had been there for a few minutes. This is an important point. The cuts of beef are so loaded with "juices" -- i.e. liquid cholesterol -- that if allowed to cool, they became a bit tough with congealed, well you know. Eaten right off the spit, they are divine.

But none of this was the high point of the meal. That was rather the ambiance, starting with the music. This was provided by a one-man orchestra who also sang. The mainstay of his repertoire were what I remember as my very favorite music to "slow-dance" with girls during my early high school days. He sang in English too. However incongruous this may seem, it seemed to help my appetite. His range went from a deep bass Louie Armstrong -- doing "Moon River" -- to the falsetto of Maurice Gibbs (of the BeeGees). My favorite --though I almost choked to death with uncontrollable laughter -- was a Beatles melody. Needless to say that this tremendous range came as the result of a total lack of skill and shame. But it was fun.

During the lull in the band, I looked for other diversions. There was the guy who left with his wife and looked normal from the waste down but otherwise like some mad builder and added a White House full of extensions to the upper torso. He caused quite a stir in his wake as even the Brazilians -- normally very polite -- guffawed with mirth after he had passed through. Then the three guys next to me, obviously from a local TV crew from the size of the video camera they had with them, paid the check and left. Although they had brought the camera in with them to safe guard it from being stolen from their vehicle, they had had such a good time that they just left it in its chair. The waiter had to chase them to bring this to their attention.

I eventually noticed that there were mirrors placed along the ceiling in such a way that you could see reflected images of the middle of other people's tables, providing a unique view of plates, glasses and the occasional hand with knife and fork. This proved mildly diverting but I decided it was improper to stare at people's dining behavior. Some things should be left private. However, I did notice that most folk's dishes seemed to be missing the big pile of meat that was on mine. Either this cost me my appetite or I had had enough. Lunch soon ended after two coffees and a trip to the dessert bar, where they had a sinful number of gooey, custardy things with coconut in or on them. This is always cause for temptation, but that is another story. 

99 Brasilia 03164: Opposition March Arrives in Brasilia

99 Brasilia 02961: Country Clearance for DUS of Labor Andrew Samet and Jorge Perez-Lopez*

*Note:  Generally speaking, no one from the USG is allowed to visit a country without first getting the Embassy's approval via a "country clearance."  These will also convey basic information that the official visitor should be aware of in order to avoid problems.

99 Brasilia 02947: Opposition Within the Alliance

From the Journal Entry for October 10, 1999: Doing Business

Back in Brasilia. The weather was apparently very warm while I was away – up over 100 a couple of days – but has been okay since I got back, though a little warm during the heat of the day. The nights are still cool enough to sleep with just a fan and a dip in the pool – still a bit chilly – gets the old body temperature down nicely. But the rains have come and spring is springing. Everything is green again and the insects greet the rising and setting of the sun with a vigorous symphony that sounds like a huge collection of tiny buzz saws. Not unpleasurable, but loud enough to have waked me at 6:37 am (which must be sunrise today).

Had a busy week back. Getting through papers and issues that had collected while I was back in Washington. I had receptions and dinners every single night except Friday. On Wednesday, I hosted a large reception for the Russell 2020 group (they paid). This is a group of U.S. pension managers who together manage $2 trillion. Trillion. When they arrived at the ambassador’s residence for the reception, I was treated to shaking about 50 hands at once. They marched up with their name tags hanging from their necks with their first names boldly emblazoned on them. I had two “Charlie’s” in a row. The group is heavy enough into Brazil to have been somewhat dismayed at the decline of the local stock market over the last year. But being pension managers, they take the “long view” and have to put their money somewhere. I told Mr. Russell that I was a bit more conservative than that and would never put money into Brazil since I might not live long enough for the “long view” and didn’t have the nerves for the “overnight.”

At lunch the next day, the group was running a bit late. We had our fish, rice and veggie course, but not dessert or coffee. But they had to leave in five minutes, and so did I. Two minutes left and the waiters start bringing out new plates. I figured, ah, dessert. Turns out it was a next course of steak and potatoes. I thought we must be getting someone else’s lunch. Anyway, up we all jump and dash out to the total bewilderment of the Brazilian guests. God, I love Americans.

Had a nice dinner at the Bolivian ambassador’s on Thursday. Met the Israeli ambassador, who had to be physically separated from his wife by at least several feet to be able to get a word in edgewise. The week ended on Friday with my attending a graduation at the Federal Police Academy for a course given by the FBI. Actually, it didn’t end there since the deputy chief told me the police would be happy to take 15 Huey helicopters recently returned to us by the Mexicans. We then had to arrange a quick meeting to “talk turkey” and ready our request for Washington before the local four-day holiday set in. Speaking of which, I went to see Notting Hill with our USAID director last night. A funny movie and surprisingly good. Today, it’s another soccer game and tomorrow, me and a group of around 40 (!) from the embassy will swarm out to an otherwise lovely waterfall [see below].

 

From Journal Entries for July 17 & 25 and August 1, 1999

July 17: Just got back from our Saturday passeio, to the Park Shopping mall and to the Embassy, where I worked a little.... The folks next door, who I think just moved in, are still singing karaoke and doing it badly. Started way before noon and it’s coming up on six. I understand music is in the Brazilian soul.

Went out on my bike today. (I could not get any pliers and had to make do with a huge wrench to tighten the last bolts on my bike. I think there may be a market here for good, old-fashioned adjustable American pliers.) Didn’t go far, just around the neighborhood. None of the streets have names, the whole city is laid out by letters and numbers, like our house is in Q9, I think. And all the neighborhoods are identical in layout with the houses often being of the same style. Stalinists designed Brasilia and it shows. But our house has a privileged site, on top of a hill and surrounded by mostly vacant plots behind hedges. A spot of paradise, as long as the karaoke singers eventually tire out. Anyway, finished the morning exercise with a dip in the pool....

Made some domestic decisions this week. Changed the domestics hours a bit to allow our cook to go home at nights. At work, trying to move forward on a few things and dealing with others. Had a nice lunch at home with the Assistant Secretary for the Americas. Knew him in DC. Brazilians value people who seem to like them and who listen as well as talk. I think I meet those qualifications. Members of my staff have reminded me that we are not here to be anybody’s friend but to represent US interests. I think we can try to do both.

July 25:  It was a good week....  I continued my stately pace of contacts with the host government and diplomatic colleagues while dealing with various bureaucratic matters within the Mission and vis-à-vis Washington. Seem to be making headway. It is a humbling experience representing the preeminent First World power in a country like Brazil that combines potential greatness with a huge complexity of problems associated with underdevelopment. Brazil is a lot like us, continental in size, and with an intelligent and diverse population with a sense of the future. But it does not have the advantages that we have, especially in that it – unlike us – does not print the world’s gold standard (i.e. the dollar) and that it started about 100 years later than we did in opening it’s economy and developing its capacity to compete in the global economy. To put it in other words, America is the most advanced capitalist society on earth. Brazil wants to be. Thus to represent the U.S. and its interests here is always to come face-to-face with a less advantaged version of yourself.


August 1: My first full month here has gone okay. I seem to have gotten ahead of the issues I knew I’d have to deal with. Washington sent me a cable this week congratulating me on our reporting. Sort of to make up for some initial doubts in some quarters perhaps. But it is a big job ... the secret is not to feel you need to know – and certainly do not – everything, you also need to wonder about what you don’t know but can still get you. Had a good meeting with the anti-drug czar and a pleasant and useful lunch with the number three from Itamaraty. The staff seems pleased so far with the change. The old leadership appears to be an easy act to follow but newness alone will wear off at some point and I’ll have to make it on my own. But I do believe that listening is something done so little that I may be able to get considerable more mileage from doing just that.

Brazil Cables Begin: 99 Brasilia 02431

I worked at the NSC 1998-99 and covered, among others, Brazil.  The President's nominee for Ambassador to Brazil -- Brian Atwood -- picked me to be his deputy (DCM).  In the event, Mr. Atwood was prevented from serving because of opposition from Senator Jesse Helms.  When I arrived at post in July 1999, and until leaving in January 2000, I served as chargé d'affaires.  Over the next several months, I will be posting cables from Embassy Brasilia during that period as released through a FOIA request.  I begin with the earliest.