The FROBIN story

When I was 6 years old, I developed this fascination with Brazil. I don't know why it happened, as I had never been to the country, knew nothing about its culture, and had no Brazilian friends. My mother had taken me to a toy store to buy a doll from an International Doll collection. I immediately told her that I had to have the doll from Brazil. Of course, as a Jewish mother, she tried to convince me to the get the doll from Israel, but I held steadfast. I just HAD to have the Brazilian girl.

A few years later, I was given an assignment in school to do a research project on any country in the world. Of course, I chose Brazil. I can still remember drawing the outline of the country on the green construction paper and hoping that someday I could visit the Amazon. "What is it about Brazil?" she would ask me. And I had no answer except, "Mom, I don't know but I think it must be amazing there." I would trace the mountain ridges on my 3D globe, wondering what the beaches of Rio must be like, and how many animals were in the rainforest.

So when I told her I was going to visit Rio in October 2007, she told me, "well it's ABOUT TIME!" I laughed at her when she told me that she was sure I would come home with a love interest. But then I met Fred...

So now, 15 months later, I finally understand why I fell in love with the country: it's called "beshert." This is a word that every Jewish mother and grandmother knows, and it literally translates to "destiny." In modern day Jewish Grandma Talk, it speaks of your soulmate and the person that you were meant to be with. Falling in love with your childhood friend after reuniting 20 years later is beshert. Missing the plane and meeting your future wife while getting loaded at the airport bar is beshert. And developing a premature obsession with a country for no apparent reason and then finding your husband there is beshert.

If you've read my earlier posts, you know how Fred and I met and how we were brought closer by his near death experience. So when I moved out here, we knew we already had a strong bond that withstood the test of trauma and seemingly endless separation. But were we ready to not only live in the same country, but in the same house??

It wasn't always easy, as we were really getting to know one another VERY well VERY quickly. He hates that I forget to turn the lights off when I leave the room. It drives me crazy when his dirty socks are RIGHT NEXT to the hamper instead of in it. But over time, we have learned how to live together, how to deal with each others' moods, and when to leave the other one alone!

Before I moved to Rio, Fred asked me (over video camera on skype) if I would marry him. I laughed and said, "honey, I think you need to see if you can live with me first!" But when we decided to file the paperwork in November for our fiance visa, we thought, "well, I guess this means we're really engaged now!"

But for me, the official engagement only really happened when Fred asked my father for permission for my hand. My parents were visiting and I decided to cook a quiche (yes, I actually cook now...sort of). They came over for dinner and while we were raising our glasses for a wine toast, Fred turned to my father and said, "I really love Robin and I want to ask your permission to marry her." We had discussed previously that this was a nice tradition that some chivalrous men partake in in the US, but I didn't expect him to do it with me sitting in the room. Dad said yes, and of course, my mother and me cried!!

So now we wait...the Visa Waiting Game. There are many steps that one has to go through to finally bring his or her fiance to the US, and I'm sure you can imagine that nobody lights a fire under the government workers' asses to move quickly. We are hopeful that the first (and longest) step of the process will be completed by mid May, and then Fred can finally join me in NYC in early to mid summer. And once he is with me there, THEN the real celebrating can begin and we can toast our engagement properly!

So that's how it goes...not a "down on one knee with a huge rock and a big surprise proposal," but one that has been known between 2 people for many months and had the most important components. There's no giant rock on my finger, no big celebration at a bar with a huge group, and no talks of wedding locations and bridesmaid dresses yet. That will come later...right now, it's just 2 people very happy to have found one another and eager to begin a life together. It's beshert.

Inca Trail Day 3: 12/11/08

I awoke bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to conquer the world on Day 3...until the stomach cramps hit. I was a bit sick the night before but thought I would be better after a good night's sleep. WRONG. Day 3 was the longest and I knew I had a LOT of walking a head of me. Simply put, the morning was atrocious. It was steep uphill for the first hour, and with every step, I felt the shock of contact fully through my stomach. Thankfully, as the day went on and I drank a lot of water (and took a lot of Pepto), the cramps subsided and day.

The best part of Day 3 was the ever-changing scenery and the gentle sloping of the terrain. One minute we were in the highlands overlooking snow capped mountains, then we were in the valley's forest watching a wild turkey in a tree. The less challenging terrain also allowed for a lot of individuals to bond. Because we were not huffing and puffing up steep inclines and not focusing on difficult descents, were were able to learn a lot about one another as we took in the Andean beauty. I learned all about Kevin's Polish grandparents and Charlie's Korean ancestry. Luke and Jonathan told me all about medical school in Australia, and Mark and Lindsey kept everyone laughing all day!

That night, I learned to play Asshole (the card game) and joined the crew at the campsite bar. After an intense, somewhat drunken discussion about relationships, disgusting habits, and other things new friends confide in one another, we all went to sleep and prepared for the Big Day. Day 4 was Machu Picchu...

Inca Trail - Day 2: 12/10/08

Today I added a new experience to the small group of accomplishments I consider "exhilirating."  Jumping out of an airplane and parachuting to the ground was exhilirating.  Learning how to really attack the powder in Jackson Hole was exhilirating.  And hiking a very steep trail to Dead Woman's pass (the highest point on the Inca Trail at 4201m) was exhilirating.  

Our day started at 530am with a wakeup call and hot coco tea.  Actually, my and Emma's began at 317am with dueling dogs barking and then a rooster who was 2 hours too early.  After breakfast, we began our trek at approximately 650am.  It was, for me, tough from the start; however, I kept Fred's principles in the back of my mind:  positive attitude, a focus on breathing, and setting my own pace.  And so it went for 7 hours. We stopped for a brief rest every 25 to 30 minutes to wait for the group stragglers to catch up (which, to my happy surprise, was never me).  I have to say that as much as I appreciated the breaks, I did feel that they were often too long and broke my rhythm a bit.  But, it went like this a s a "family" trekking to the 14,000 foot summit.

As we rose in altitude, my body began to feel the effects even more.  My breathing became more labored, my feet began to tingle, and the muscles in my neck tightened up.  But I kept on.

At last we could see our destination, and though it looked so close, at the same time it seemed like infinite steps separated me from the top.  The last 600 feet were particularly brutal.  The size of the stone stairs got higher; at times I was climbing steps that were as high as my knees.  My lungs burned from trying to suck in as much oxygen from the thin air as I could.  But as I got closer, I began to hear cheers.  Fellow hikers who were already at the top and had reached their goal called out encouragements to their teammates.  Every time someone reached the summit, cheers erupted.  

And so, inspired by the shouts from my "family members" who were already there, I persevered.  I literally bounded up the last 5 steps with a burst of adrenaline and was immediately overcome with...exhiliration.  Of course, I joined in the cheers as my fellow Yellow Llamas each made it to the top, and I think the smiles on our faces say it all in the group photo!  And to think...this wasn't even Machu Picchu yet!  

But alas, with every high comes a low (literally) and we spent the next 90 minutes going down steep rock stairs to our campsite below.  It was totally exhausting and I got hit with my first bout of altitude sickness, which made the last 30 minutes particularly unenjoyable.  But alas, here I am at camp and tomorrow we will set out for Day 3.  It's the longest at 20km, but not nearly as steep and rigorous.  I feel ready and...exhilirated!