When I (re)named this blog, the intention was to buy a farm in a rural area and live in the country. That was a dream unfulfilled on our return from Brazil. Now, at least, we're part-fulfilling that ideal.
This weekend we're moving to the country. Not a farm - yet. But a barn conversion. In deepest Norfolk.
We have a lot of things afoot - many of which I can't really write about just yet. With luck, maybe by mid-September I can be a little more forthcoming.
Way back when, I used to blog Brazil. One of the sensations in the expat community was the shocking murder of a couple of Americans, Zera and Michelle Staheli, who were fairly new arrivals working for Shell. The Stahelis were devout Mormons and their straight-laced lifestyle fed the hunger for clues in the long months that the case was being investigated.
Speculation at the time was that this may have been a crime of passion or that it might have been a contract hit based on business dealings gone wrong. It was even thought that some hangover from some of Staheli's former business in the FSU might have tracked him down to Brazil, where a hit might be easier.
But after several months, attention focused on the family's caseiro, or house man. The authorities scheduled a press conference where the caseiro, Jossiel Conceição dos Santos, confessed to the crime. Dos Santos revealed information that only the killer or an accomplice could have known. He was said to be upset at having been called the equivalent of "nigger", although it seemed unlikely that the Stahelis would have said any such thing in Portuguese.
And then he changed his story. He claimed he was paid for the hit by some unknown men from the favelas. He claimed he only helped them over the fence. His confession was considered insecure. He claimed it was extracted by toture.
I got to wondering what had become of the case, and it looks like indeed they got their man. Dos Santos was convicted in March to 25 years in prison for the double murder. Details (in Portuguese).
We were invited to a cherry picking party earlier this week. We thought maybe the hosts had a small orchard, but no - just a single tree - the likes of which I've never seen.
There were so many cherries on this tree, which is probably 40' tall, that they had hired, appropriately, a cherry-picker - a mobile man-basket to lift people right up into the tree to pick basket after basket of sweet ripe black cherries.
And as a happy consequence, we are awash with cherries. We have so many cherries we could never eat them all; we are looking at recipes (cherry soup, anyone? (scroll down)).
I am hoping our hosts will bear us in mind next summer; we could make a cracking cherry beer with 100% local cherry content. That would please me greatly!