A Vida É Bela

Sotaquezinho

At a birthday churrasco in Rio last weekend, I met, for the first time, an American who passed the native test: a real live Brazilian assumed she was one of them. Everything – accent, posture, body language, platform sandals – was spot on. Of course, perhaps a native of Rio could have told the difference – apparently they can distinguish between natives of different bairros.

When pressed she admitted, “Yes, I’m American, but I’ve lived here a long time.” And, she proudly announced: “I have no desire to go back.” That may have something to do with having just bought an apartment in Ipanema, an all-around lovely place (although still a bit agitated for my tastes).

I was impressed. Yes, she married and moved to Brazil young, but pure time doesn’t erase foreign accents, a combination of talent and the will to assimilate does.

And me? (Hey, it’s my blog.) I’ve been here two years. Upon meeting me, Brazilians alternately note that I have [no, a little, a very strong] accent. I’m comfortable and content, but that invariably makes me antsy. I’m not eager to move back to the US, but I can’t say I never want to leave Brazil. I see myself as more of a multi-citizen than an expat, aproveitando the pluses of each place but unwilling to romanticize or overlook the minuses.

I’ve adapted. I check over both shoulders before crossing the street, chit-chat with strangers, and feel weird if I don’t know the name of every single person I interact with. I feel naked if I leave the apartment without earrings or a dab of makeup, even just to run to the corner bakery or the GYM. I shower before I go out, after I come home, and before I go out again. I wear flip-flops at home, and am obsessive about dirt (indoors). I eat a huge lunch and bread for breakfast and dinner, put soy sauce on my salad (ok, maybe a São Paulo thing) and ketchup on my spaghetti (ok, maybe just laziness).

But there are some things I won’t give up. (1) Chaco’s every single day, unless it’s toe-numbingly cold. Partly comfort, partly because my size 9.5/10 feet poke over the edge of the largest Brazilian women’s sandals. Luckily I’m tall (enough).

(2) My beige (and now dust-stained) gringo hat, purchased in Peru and the coolest and shadiest ever.

(3) Alone time. The only reliable place for this now is my room, due to the above-mentioned incessant chit-chat with strangers thing. I do miss the alone-in-public coffee-shop culture of the north, and made sure to spend at least the length of one cup of tea per day sitting alone in coffee shops during my trip to Germany in January. (4) Regular walks or swims. Wearing my hat, but not the Chaco’s. Usually alone, to reset my brain, but good company sometimes welcomed.

(5) NPR/BBC live streams in the morning, podcasts during my walks. Helps me stay connected with the US and how it’s evolving, and the bad economic/political news helps me not miss it too much. ;)

And that’s pretty much it.