Saudades for Planet Brasil

Dear Friends,

I am getting ready to depart Planet Brazil, and I want to give you all a quick update before take-off. I know - it’s hard to believe I am leaving already. I feel like I’ve just landed on this new planet, unpacked my bags, and gotten used to the change in atmosphere – and now I have to go. So I will be leaving with some mixed feelings. In some ways, I am ready to touch down on US soil and relax again into my comfort zone, and reconnect with my people and culture and language. But in other ways, I will be feeling ‘saudades grandes’ (big missing) for this place with which I have come to feel a real connection.

It’s taken exactly 6 months for me to feel part of Joao Pessoa, Paraiba, Brazil. It seems in just the last two weeks, I’ve gotten over the ominous language barrier, and can carry-on whole conversations with people in Portugues, moving beyond just the topic of weather (i.e., Esta muito quente hoje.) I can sit around and drink beer with friends (well I’ve always been good at that) and understand more than half of the discussion swirling around me. And I can even offer my own two centavos, sometimes more, if I am drinking cachaca. I can ask for directions, and understand the response, keeping esquerda (left) and deireita (right) straight in my head. I can even give directions now too. Earlier this week, a man stopped me in the Centro Historico and asked, “Moca, where is the prefeitura antiga?” I was proud to understand him and be able to give him an intelligible answer.

I’ve also gotten to the point where I can make transactions with vendors without being ripped off. This is a biggie for a galega (blond/white) Americana – the Brazilians get $$ in their eyes when they see me coming. Just yesterday, at the lake, I found two guys with their shoe shine boxes, and I stopped them to repair and polish two pairs of my favorite Brazilian sandals. They did a great job, but then tried to sucker me out of 20 reais, which is what the sandals cost in the first place. I said no, noa preco especial Americano para mim, obridaga (no special American price for me, thanks). And I took R$12 out of my wallet and told them ‘so isso’ (just this) matter of factly. They took the bills smiling, and told me to return again (volta sempre).

One real challenge for me has been working my photography exhibition, and carrying-on complex discussions with customers, and even the press, about the places I have traveled, the motivations for my work, and my future plans, all in quasi-Portugues. But the discussions have gotten easier every day. And when I closed down my show yesterday, I found I had sold half the pictures off the walls of the gallery (and even collected most of the money). Now my photos will have homes here in Paraiba, and I won’t have to haul them back to the US.

As I am getting ready to leave, I’ve also discovered my regular spots, places I frequent, like Paulista’s barraca (outdoor bar) on the lake. Here we are, Paulista, Cris and I, with the ‘wall of infamy,’ Cris’s caricatures of the bar’s best customers, in the background, and a plate of kibes in the foreground. Paulista enjoys political conversations, especially making fun of Georgie Bush, and he serves the best kibes and coxinhas in town – little fried appetizers you eat with fresh squeezed lime and hot sauce, and down with cold Skol cerveja. Paulista keeps a clean, quiet and alternative-lifestyle-friendly atmosphere, so the place attracts all kinds - writers, artists, retired folks and single moms, and students. Besides Paulista, I also have my favorite salao de beleza, Beleza Marrie, and my amigas Anna e Rosa, that take care of my nails and ‘Brazilian waxing,’ while I watch horrible novelas on the little flickering TV in the corner of the shop. I even have my favorite gas station, where they bring you tiny cups of strong sweet coffee and water to your car on a silver tray. Of course, gas costs about $6 a gallon here, so you get what you pay for I suppose.

But the most important thing about the life I’ve cultivated on PB, is that I’ve discovered some true friends. These are not the people I met at the beginning of my adventure who smiled and kissed me on each cheek each time they saw me, and promised to invite me to dinner every time, but then never did. My true Brazilian friends are the ones that call me on a quiet Sunday morning, when I’m not sure how I’m going to fill my day, and invite me to the beach for beers and ensopada de carengaju (crab soup).

These are the people who drag me out of my apartment on to see a movie at the mall, like Brokeback Mountain, and let me marvel out loud during the movie about the beautiful US scenery.

These are the people who invite me to hang out on their veranda and play bosso nova music and try composing songs together, with a Brazilian beat and American lyrics combined.

These are the people who sit patiently while I try to eek out a grammatically correct sentence in Portugues, and marvel at my first ‘joga de paravalas’ (play on words) in my new language.

These are the people that take me shopping on my last days on Planet Brazil to buy coisas Brasilieras (like Sao Braz coffee and Amazon soaps) at the cheap market in Torre.

These are the people who organize a dance celebration in my honor, because I won’t be able to stay in Brasil for Sao Joao fest, on the count of the visa.

These are the people who take me sailing on a windy day and disembark on a shady riverbank so I can take pictures and sip champagne.
These are the people who ask me when I am coming back (Ate quando?), and make sure I know I have a place to stay with them when I return.

I’ve discovered the key to happiness on a new planet is finding true friends, connections, people that give meaning to a place. Cris, Babeta and Junior, Monica, Gilva, Wallison, Jane, and others.

So this blog post is dedicated to friends – to my new friends (meus novos amigos) on Planet Brazil that I will leave behind, for a little while, until I am allowed to return. And also to my friends back home on Planet DC who I will be reconnecting with soon.

Obrigada e abracos para voces, Anne

Copyright 2006 Anne Pellicciotto