The American Inventory

My mom came to town today. It's her first visit to São Paulo and my first time seeing a family member in two and a half months.

She brought two suitcases full of goods from the US. Some we asked for, others she thought would be nice. Here's a list of the inventory:

(Another name for this list could be, "It's Good to Go Shopping in America.")

1. One George Foreman Grill.

Because it works.

2. About 40 individual Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.

May God have mercy on your soul.

3. Three bottles of hydrogen peroxide.

Brazilians don't know what hydrogen peroxide is. No clue at all. This was alarming news to me a few weeks ago when I had a splinter situation going on. I wanted to cleanse the wound. Well, not just cleanse it. I wanted to watch the germs actively being erased in the form of bubbles and a slight pinching pain.

Hydrogen peroxide really is one of the most satisfying things you can buy. Open a bottle and pour it on the back of your seemingly blemish-free hand and watch as several crops of bubbles erupt. There's a satisfying twinge along with it that doesn't really hurt you, but snaps you awake enough to let you know there's a problem and you're lucky it ended this way--much like a police officer who tells you to walk home quietly and sleep it off, pal.

And all of this at the cost of what? $2.00 for a five-year supply? Have you ever actually finished a bottle of hydrogen peroxide? (I'm talking to you normal people who use it as God intended, which is to say not in your hair that one Summer between 7th and 8th grade). I say nay. Peroxide bottles never end. They just sit there under the sink like an insurance policy that you know for a fact--unlike all your other scraps of insurance--is actually worth a damn.

It's not like Brazilians are given their last rights every time they scrape a knee. They've got some alcohol-based substitutes here that I'm sure clean a wound just fine. But that's not what I want. I want that brown plastic bottle with the big white label. Hydrogen peroxide is America to me.

4. Two bottles of maple syrup.

I tipped off my American friend Nick that my mom was coming down from the Land of the Free. I asked him if there was anything he wanted me to request on his behalf. It's similar to what the 1% does with stocks. His response was peanut butter and this tasty byproduct of the forest.

Brazilians don't eat pancakes, waffles or any of that other stuff. Breakfast here is worthless, really. All this amazing cuisine and then they just want bread and fruit in the morning.

I guess it makes sense when you consider they're a nation that puts off everything until the last minute. Of course nothing of real value would show up until lunch.

Nick wants to eat pancakes and that's the kind of dream one American is willing to facilitate for another. That brings us to:

5. About three jars of peanut butter.

Just as I realized I only had creamy left in my special cache, voila, mom is there with two extra large crunchies. And if you hate crunchy, just stop reading this blog because you also hate science, beauty, oxygen and:

6. About 10 packets of taco seasoning.

And there's nothing you can do about it, Brazil. I've got enough taco seasoning now to cook myself. And I'll do it in:

7. One crock pot.

Because Dani wanted it.

8. Four bottles of bug spray.

Dani scoffed when I asked my mom to bring some, but had I come across a single bottle here in the last 2.5 months, we probably wouldn't be at this crossroads.

Bugs here really aren't a problem for us since we're living smack dab in the middle of urbanolopolousville. The thing about bug spray in Brazil, though, is that when you do need it, you really, really need it. Mosquitos here don't carry trendy diseases like West Nile (so 2008). 

Here, the wrong bite leaves you with dengue fever. I don't know what happens when you get dengue except that whenever people talk about it they shake their heads and don't look you in the eye.

9. Like eight boxes of muffin mix.

Because you can make muffins, pancakes or waffles: Just about anything delicious that we thought was healthy at one point in history.

10. One big box of biscuit mix.

Dani misses American biscuits. I guess I miss them, too. Then again, I haven't really noticed their absence. I feel like biscuits are always there no matter what.

It's like those commercials for the Mike Slocumb Hurt Line. We don't even watch TV here, but if I turned it on and saw William Shatner prompting me to show them I mean business, I don't think I would think, "This sure is unexpected."

Same thing if a basket of biscuits was placed in front of me at any moment. Like the fire department, biscuits are always there for us. They're a part of the American framework.

11. One box of Kraft macaroni and cheese.

All Dani again on this one. When my mom asked what kind of macaroni she wanted, Dani asked specifically for, "The cheap stuff"--a move I can respect as a state school graduate.

12. Four tubes of those kitchen wipe things.

Because they work.

13. Three cans of shaving cream.

My first trip to Sampa last year, I bought a can of shaving cream for R $29 (US $13.93). I wasn't really paying attention in the store, but to my credit, I was just buying a can of shaving cream and probably had bigger projects on my mind like ending world hunger or evading taxes.

The reason the cream was so expensive is because it came in a can covered in English. Imported stuff from the US faces high tariffs here. I guess there's nothing wrong with Brazilian shaving cream. I just won't know for sure for a while.

14. One Macbook to HDMI TV converter.

Because it's time to step up my game.

15. And like 800 napkins.

Which I found a little excessive at the time. Then I realized no one thinks that when they ask for a napkin and you have one to give them.

The United States,
JMD