Random Musings: An Ex-Pat Sits Out the Big Dance

Hi folks,

I’ve been living in Brazil for over 16 months now. Moving here was without question the right decision for me. I see lots of opportunity here, generally and for me specifically. Overall I am happier here than I was back in the US. And that, in the end, is what matters most.

Brazil is my home now. That is not to say, however, that I don’t miss things about the US.

I miss my family, of course. I miss friends. (And when you move, you find out who your true friends are. These are the ones who maintain contact with you.)

But there are little things that we miss, too.

My friend Taylor, who was assigned here by the US Navy, really missed peanut butter. She was so excited when she found a cache of it at a Super Wal-Mart here. “They had smooth AND chunky!” she gushed. She bought two of each, despite the high price.

Taylor, who is from Oklahoma, also missed being able to make her award-winning chili, which alas is difficult to make without chili powder. When her husband Chuck came to visit, he was requested to ferry down several packets of chili powder, and woe be unto him should he forget.

He remembered, and the gang oohed and aahed over Taylor’s chili the next time we gathered at her place to watch American Idol. (Let me make it clear that I attended only because of the chili. Mostly.)

Probably each of ex-pats here has something that we really miss. I miss books in English. While you can find them here, the prices are quite high, and the selection of titles often bewildering to say the least. Who reads this stuff? Judging by the thick layer of dust adorning the short row of shop-worn books, not many people.

And mustard, real mustard. Oh, God, how I miss real mustard. Oh, sure, they nominally have mustard here, but it’s just yellow gel, with no flavor at all. Most Brazilians don’t like spicy food (except in Bahia, where the African influence is strong and the street food can burn a hole straight through you). This glop that they foist off as mustard reflects the local lack of appreciation for my condiment of choice.

But, my friends, there is one thing which I miss above all others, particularly at this time of the year. It is March, and that of course means but one thing: March Madness.

Now, I should mention that I lived for much of my life in North Carolina, where college basketball is as much a staple of existence as iced tea and pulled pork barbecue. Take it away, and we Tarheels suffer serious withdrawal symptoms.

I should also mention that I attended Duke University as an undergrad, and for the first time in years we have real depth and – would you believe? – some serious height on the team. We are once again serious contenders looking to go more than 2 rounds in the Big Dance.

But finding the games on TV here? That is a challenge.

You can find all the soccer/football (whichever term you prefer, I am supremely indifferent to this sport, which is only marginally more interesting than synchronized swimming; but that is for another post) you want. Not just Brazilian football, but UK, Italian, and German as well. There is an endless supply ad freaking nauseum.

And you can actually find basketball here. But the international rules are a bit different, and I don’t know the players. It just isn’t the same.

I want to see ACC basketball. I want to see Duke embarrass a UNC team caught in a rebuilding season. Let me say that I have all the respect in the world for Roy Williams, and Dean Smith was one of the true coaching greats (if not overly endowed with personality). It’s those obnoxious, fair-weather, where-did-they-go? Tarheel fans that I can’t stand. So, run them over, Blue Devils! Show no mercy! Off with their heads!

Pardon me, I may have had just a bit too much coffee. This Brazilian stuff packs a wallop.

The ACC tourney was last weekend. I was unable to find the games on my TV, or at any of the local establishments. (Those vacant looks of incomprehension in response to your pleas just knock your heart into your shoes – or your Havaianas.)

It’s unforgivable that I couldn’t watch Duke as it overcame UVA, Miami (FL), and the ramblin’ wreck of Georgia Tech to again earn the title.

But I was reduced to “watching” the games on CBS Sports Live Stats.

Now, first let me say, God bless you CBS, and I am so grateful that you make this service available free of charge (sponsored by the good folks over at Havoline) to undeserving folks like me, and please please please let’s keep it going until the Big Dance is over or at least until Duke is eliminated.

Actually, Live Stats isn’t bad. The delay isn’t too long, and the graphics not bad.

But you can’t actually SEE the plays, the stuffs, the blocks, the behind-the-back-no-look passes. Sigh…

But there is no audio, and what, let’s be honest, is a college basketball game without the squeak of soles on the court and cries of “Defense!” (stomp stomp) “Defense!”? Is it truly college hoops without Dick Vitale screaming “Awesome, baby!”?

Why, you may ask, didn’t I just tune in to a radio station online? Good thinking! Except that the FCC in their infinite if inscrutable wisdom blocks me here in Brazil from listening to US broadcasts because I am “out of the service area”.

And so, this weekend, I will hunker down again and watch the tourney on Live Stats. Don’t feel too sorry for me: I’ll watch it out on the patio, with a view of Copacabana Beach three blocks up.

But, please, could someone tell me, was it a charge or a block?!?!

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