A long way to go

Last Friday night we had some cheese and wine for dinner, which doesn’t happen often anymore. The combination brought nostalgia to my palate, and suddenly I missed something. I didn’t know if I missed Paris, or the last-minute run down the street to get a baguette tradi at the closest boulangerie, some choice of stinky, delicious French cheese and a bottle of Ventoux (a failproof meal). All of a sudden I missed complaining about Parisians. Above all, I missed the savoir vivre à la française.

About an hour later, I was astounded. Speechless, petrified, hypnotized. It started close to the Stade de France, followed by the street where I did my masters. Memories of two years commuting to that very street flashed in my mind. I would pass daily by Le Petit Cambodge, where I once refused to pay 11 EUR for a tiny portion of vegetarian noodles. “I won’t be coming back here!” I said, half-bluffing, as I had been there many times already and had no true intention of stopping at that moment. Little did I know.

Then the Bataclan. Happy, naïve memories of a Sia concert there in 2009.

Rue de Charonne was around the corner from my last Parisian home. My parents rented an apartment there not long ago.

It hit me hard. I unconsciously took it personally, egotistically, and I have been a pile of sad anxiety since. I have gone through the pictures and names of all victims at least 3 times, the back of my mind whispering at the sight of each of their ambitious young eyes: “it could have been you”. I felt a maddening pain at the thought of their oblivion when those pictures were taken. It could have been someone I love.

My perspective has changed, perhaps permanently, but only time will tell. These are desolate times. In Paris; in Mariana, Minas Gerais; in Beirut; in so many other places. Drowning in fear and anxiety, I couldn’t help but to cry incessantly on Tuesday morning. I didn’t want to put on my best face, go to work, socialize, pretend nothing had happened this past week. Pretend that I wasn’t scared. Yann-Yves tried to reassure me by holding me in his arms, repeating “it will be ok, Germany isn’t involved” as he caressed my hair with his loving hands. The irony was almost tangible.

…

Today, I stumbled upon Odeonsplatz as it stood dressed in French colors, and the sight of it, at last, has made me profoundly hopeful. It was one of the most beautiful moments I have experienced in its historical context. A square where Hitler would so often preach words of hatred, was now standing in bright solidarity for a country once occupied.  We have come such a long way.

Jew by choice

Last week I approached my boss, Christine, and said that we needed to talk. “It’s nothing serious. I mean, it is, but nothing to do with work. I mean, a bit to do with work, but it’s not about work“.

What I was getting to was that I needed to take the day off on September 14th, because of Rosh Hashanah. “I have decided to convert into Juddaism – and I am starting now“. She had always known that Yann-Yves is Jewish, and I had always known that one day I’d take this step. The time had come. “It’s a huge challenge” I said, which she replied with a smile: “Challenges seem to be your thing“.

I believe it was little over a month ago when I took the initiative for us to start observing Shabbat. At first, Yann-Yves was hesitant. Too many memories of boring teenage days with no phone, no TV, no public transportation and so many other “no”s. But he did miss the tradition. He missed the preparation of a thought-out homemade meal, which was to be enjoyed at a table full of family and friends as they welcomed Sabbath into their home. He also missed the following day – which despite the many restrictions, would in fact pave the way for lots of reading and reflection. I had no memories of that from my own teenagehood, and yet I craved it too.

But observing Shabbat wasn’t enough.

I am not cut out for pretending to be something I am not. Attending services at the orthodox synagogue would make me deeply uncomfortable. Separating from Yann-Yves and heading to the female section (a year ago, I didn’t even know men sat separately from women), would put me in automatic pretend mode: I’d pretend I could follow the prayers – raising when women would rise, moving and bowing when they’d move and bow – while ultimately trying my best to avoid the inquisitive stares that seemed to affirm: “You don’t belong here”.

Maybe they weren’t staring at me after all. Maybe it was a figment of my anxious imagination. But even in this fantasy, I couldn’t help but admitting: I don’t belong here… or not yet.

Before we met the rabbi, I was extremely nervous. “What if he asks about my religion? I wasn’t even baptized. But technically my family is catholic. Should I said that, or would that be worse??“. All I wanted was to convince him that I could belong.

As it turns out, he never asked that of me. I was welcome as I was – Brazilian, tattooed, in a religious limbo and without a drop of Jewish blood in my body -, and would surely continue to feel welcome as I fulfilled my desire to become a Jew by choice.

An hour went by without the rabbi even mentioning my conversion (though that was the reason why we’d scheduled an appointment with him), until Yann-Yves finally blurted out: “So how does the conversion work?”

“Oh yes, I remember you mentioned that in your email“, answered the rabbi. “I require three things: attendance in all Jewish Holidays, as well as Shabbat at least twice a month; you must be able to read Hebrew in order to follow the services; and finally, you must attend and participate in courses about Jewish history and culture.” After a brief pause, he continued: “People think it is easy to convert in the Reform community, but although it is a very individual process, it should take anywhere between a year, to two or longer“. I always knew this would be the biggest challenge I’d ever taken, but I was glad I could still be myself in the process.

Then the subject of conversion wasn’t mentioned again. The rabbi proceeded to invite us to the services as guests, affirming we could take our time to decide whether we’d like to become members of the Reform community.

To be continued

THE TRUE COST OF BEING INFORMED

It is so precious to come across anything that makes you reflect. When something makes you think and feel like shit, it’s even more powerful.

My former colleague and friend Christian stopped by the office yesterday to pick up his stuff. We left at the same time and chatted on the way to the metro. As modern conversations go, we casually talked about TV shows and, inevitably, Netflix. He said I had to watch The True Cost – a documentary about the fashion industry and, gasp, “garment factories” (or a nicer term for sweatshops”).

“One of those”, I thought and kept it to myself, trying not to be a horrible human being.

You see, about three years ago I read Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer, and I identify myself as a reborn vegetarian ever since. But that was then and continues to be easy. I do not miss any kind of meat, and vegetarian food is altogether fairly accessible.

But what the hell am I supposed to do if I can’t consume fast fashion?? I hesitated. I didn’t want to watch that damned documentary. But I had to. I knew it was going to get to me in ways I didn’t want it to. If I chose to watch, I couldn’t unwatch it. I couldn’t ignorance-fy myself. I couldn’t unsee the crying laborers in developing countries – just like my own! – whose colleagues had literally died while making versions of some sweater I have hiding in a corner of my closet.

And, alas, I watched it. It ended about 5 minutes ago, and here I sit writing this text on this Ikea couch, wearing these lovely H&M pjs. Now what? If you haven’t watched The True Cost yet, stop reading and go do so. It’ll make you feel both good about being informed and shitty about everything you bought in the last 5 years or so. It’ll also leave you with an eerie, tingling question in the back of your head – what kind of consumer do I want to be?  What kind of consumer can I afford to be? What excuse do I use to continue wearing the fast fashion clothes I already own and hate to love?

Thanks, Christian.

Read more about the documentary and watch it here (at your own risk of thinking twice before stepping into Zara from now on).

WOW

You blink and almost a year goes by.

You blink, and there you have it – you’ve moved countries, apartments, you’re at your first real job for close to a year, your hair is long, you didn’t lose the weight you’d promised yourself you’d lose, it’s already July – wait, close to August -, and the last time you took 5 minutes to exercise your creativity and took a breather to reflect publicly on the whirlwind you call “life” was last December.

I give myself so, so many reasons on a daily basis why I do not have time to write. Some of the most absurd ones deserve to be listed:

– Most simply, I don’t have time
– In the “advertising-agency-scheme-of-things” I am not a creative. I’m a manager (and a junior at that). I think and act in an organized manner and I count the minutes of my day to keep myself sane while getting stuff done
– I am tired
– I am particularly tired of staring at a screen and typing all day
– I am too busy counting calories, not being proud of it, then stuffing my face
– I am too busy going to gym a few times a week, which is not enough to build my ~dream body~ but also too much to leave me time to write
– And, hear me out, the last one which may after all be the closest to the truth and the saddest of them all: I am not inspired, and that scares the living shit out of me.

The other day Yann-Yves told me he missed the times when I was “more creative”. That hurt. Not because he said it, but because I realized I truly missed it too, and very much so, so very much.

There was a time when I would put together crazy collages on Photoshop. I used to cook more, and took classes on Skillshare. That’s how I “learned” to use Illustrator, well enough to create a landscape of Rio. When we first moved to Munich, Yann-Yves and I used to go to a different museum every Sunday. I also used to write a whole lot more, but that was a longer time ago.

I thought I’d be a writer one day. Maybe I will. For now it’ll suffice to publish fragments of thoughts ever so often, if I’m not too busy making up excuses.

Today I am giving myself a moment.

CAN YOU BELIEVE IT’S 2014?

I have this funny predilection for even years, and it seems I’m not the only one.

2014 comes filled with promises of changes and ending cycles. This year I’ll be concluding my Master’s, starting a career, releasing a documentary I’ve produced and have been working on since 2012, and moving back to my home country with my beloved boyfriend.

In between those massive life-changing moments, I plan on:

– Traveling a lot,
– Reading a lot more,
– Rekindling old friendships and investing in new ones,
– Cooking anything and everything vegan,
– And, of course, sticking to a vegetarian diet whenever eating vegan is not possible.

This will be an exciting and challenging year, so I must do my best to keep my body and mind up to speed.

Happy New Year, and may 2014 be as full of achievements as you’ve set out to conquer.

100 LIKES!

Tofu Frog Legs has reached 100 likes on Facebook!
It’s a small step for a blog, but a giant leap to keep me motivated. Thank you so much.

This blog started with the intention of reaching out to people, to learn the reasons why and how they chose to adopt a certain lifestyle. It was my way to try and belong to an online community of vegans/vegetarians/interesting people with whom I can exchange not only recipes, bien sûr, but thoughts, inspiration, and knowledge. It was meant to keep me motivated to sticking to my moral and ethical standards, and it’s working.

Sounds silly, but each “like” feels like a tap on the back, and I can almost hear you saying “you’re doing well, kiddo”. That just makes my day.

If you haven’t liked the TFL page yet, it’s never too late. Oh, and we’re on Twitter, too. Wink, wink.

Thanks again, you’re the best. To 1000 and beyond!

HAPPY FESTIVE SEASON

I don’t think I’ve wished a happy Thanksgiving yet, so there you go – Happy Thanksgiving!

And Happy Hanukkah to the jews out there (my boyfriend is Jewish and I pretty much force him to celebrate his own holidays). Happy Thanksgivukkah!

I hope you’re all having a wonderful time.

Photo by Meg l De quelle planète es-tu?

Thanksgiving isn’t really part of Brazilian culture – though Black Friday is quickly becoming a thing -, but I’ve been fortunate enough to celebrate it with my many American friends over the past few years. It’s such a great tradition (let’s skip the origins of the holiday, shall we?). It’s true we shouldn’t need a day to remember the things we’re all thankful for, but it can’t hurt either.

My friend Meg documented our Friendsgiving dinner so, so well. The (mostly vegetarian) feast aside, my favorite moment was probably when we all sat in a circle and talked about what we were grateful for. Americans and other nationalities alike, we were all grateful to have met such wonderful people abroad, to have experienced what it is to live in a foreign country and to have built a second family while at it. Because of moments such as this, I am thankful for Thanksgiving.

Photo by Meg l De quelle planète es-tu?

I am also thankful to be healthy, to have access to education, to be driven. These aren’t a given, but a mix of determination and, yes, luck. I am a creature of grumpy nature, particularly when it’s cold. I complain about the mess my boyfriend makes in our home, about the French economy, about missing out on family events, about not being able to afford to travel every now and then…. But ’tis the season to be jolly, and to realize the pluses outweigh the minuses in one’s life. Always.

I am grateful for my grandma turning 96 on the night of Thanksgiving. I am grateful for my badass parents. I am grateful that my dad is 74, still practices yoga and runs 40 minutes every day. I am grateful that my mom is my no. 1 confidante. I am grateful for my boyfriend, who’s also my family and who puts up with me. I am grateful to speak different languages and to have met, so early in life, people from countries I hadn’t even heard of. I am thankful for the people who inspire me to be a better version of myself. I am thankful for coffee in the morning, for Netflix, for long warm showers, for olive bread.

What are you grateful for?

Happy holidays, and may the festive season begin.

I AM A VERSATILE BLOGGER!

The lovely Olivia Fawn from Eat To Inspire has nominated me for a Versatile Blogger Awards! I had no idea what it was, and it doesn’t really matter. It just feels so great to see that my baby blog is loved and appreciated by someone other than myself hehe. That said, here’s a big huge thank you to Olivia! This was a sweet, sweet way to start off the week.

Now here are my picks for the award (I’m sticking mostly to food, but also lifestyle blogs):

1. De quelle planète es-tu?
2. El Chino Latino Cocina
3. Cansei de Ser Yummy
4. Ohlalalivia
5. Miles For Thought
6. V is for Vegetables
7. 365 Days of Vegan Food
8. Fae’s Twist and tango
9. Violet’s Veg*n e-Comics
10. An Unrefined Vegan

7 random facts about me:
– I started learning German at age 3.
– I can bend my thumbs 90 degrees backwards.
– I was once the lead singer and guitarist of a girl band called Lemon Green Sheep. When I say “once”, I mean when I was 13. My dreams of being a punk rock star are long, long gone.
– I was supposed to move to Canada after high school, but changed my mind last minute and voilà! I’ve been living in Paris ever since.
– I once hiked in the Andes and found out in the worst way possible that I have vertigo.
– I am completely and utterly terrified of spiders.
– My parents were born on the same day (14 years apart) and they’re my best friends in the world.

Thanks again, Olivia!

The rules are to
1) Display the award certificate on your blog
2) Link back to the person who nominated you
3) Present 10 awards to 10 deserving bloggers
4) Inform your nominees that you have nominated them
5) Write 7 random facts about yourself

WEEKLY PICKS

Because sharing is caring, here are some of my favorite picks of the week.

10 Cute Things New Vegans Say by V is for Vegetables: I’m not vegan (yet), but I can definitely relate to some of those. Especially “some guy asked me where I get my protein. Don’t people realize beans are a good source of protein?”. People don’t even realize fish aren’t vegetables.

Don’t Fear the Vegan by Chandra Moskowitz for CNN: With Thanksgiving rapidly approaching, it is important to remind people to not fear the vegan – and by vegan she means that individual in your life who threatens to ruin your otherwise perfectly normal turkey-filled feast.

Speaking of Thanksgiving, if you’re struggling to find some good vegan recipes, The Greatist’s 44 Healthy Vegan Recipes is a good place to get inspired (I’m personally going for the spinach dip and a vegan Shepherd’s pie).

This time of the year is also perfect for looking into and reconnecting with traditional foods’ origins (I’m not talking about paleo here). Check out this Appetite City episode on Soul Food featuring Frederick Douglas Opie (not vegan, and quite graphic 13 minutes in, but very interesting).

Bananas are definitely my favorite fruit, and also probably my favorite food in the world. Here are 10 Awesome And Unusual Ways To Use Bananas by Ecorazzi. Because they’re the best.

Being vegan – Changing The World One Person At A Time is a moving article by Paul Graham.

Finally, I’m deeply craving this quinoa porridge by Fingers, Fork +Knife.

Enjoy, and happy weekend!

BOOZE AND VEGANISM

A little while ago I wrote a post on the importance of being an informed consumer. Whether you’re vegan, vegetarian, or an all-out carnivore, it is important to know what’s on your plate and in your glass.

Try to picture my expression of shock and awe upon the revelation that not all booze is vegan (or vegetarian, for that matter). For the two years during which I’d been vegetarian, I’d never  once thought about the implications of drinking. That was my safety net, the one thing I didn’t have to worry about upon the idea of a social gathering. Now I can say that ignorance does make one’s life much easier — but as humans that’s not really what we seek, is it? Especially not over knowledge.

My friend Sam was the one who broke the news to me as I almost spit out on my coffee. At first it all seemed like nonsense to me – why would animal products be involved in the wine making process? I understand why honey-flavored beer and liquor wouldn’t be considered vegan, but what harm can grapes do? As it turns out, a lot. Barnivore explains the matter clearly and succinctly:

Brewmasters, winemakers, and distillers may include animal ingredients in their products directly, or they might use them in the processing and filtration.

When making the product, dairy, honey, and other things (including, in one case, a whole chicken dropped in the tank) are ingredients in the final recipe.

When filtering the drinks prior to bottling, companies can use things like isinglass (from fish bladder,) gelatin, egg whites, and sea shells, among other things. These products grab onto the impurities and make it easier to catch them in the filters, though there are many animal-free alternatives in use.

These ingredients don’t usually show up on the label, so the only way to find out is to ask.

The site itself has an impressive directory of vegan-safe alcohol, and will surely help you make your choice next time you’re at a liquor store.

You should also know that organic wine isn’t necessarily vegan, because the label doesn’t guarantee an animal product-free making process (that’s a trap I admit to have fallen into). The one and only almost sure wine to be vegan is natural wine, i.e. wine made with minimal chemical and technological intervention.

If you want to know more about the subject, check out this article by The Kitchn (Discovering Vegan Wine: What! Isn’t All Wine Vegan?) followed by this one on natural wine by Raw (What Is Natural Wine?)

Finally, if you’re in Paris, here are some bars in which you’ll find natural wine: Le Verre Volé,  Quedubon, Ô Divin, Baratin. 

UPDATE: The wonderful Nathalie suggested yet another way to find natural wine in Paris: Où boire des vins naturels à Paris?. Thanks!