a world away
i spent last weekend in Goiania. Goiania is maybe 250km from Brasilia, deep into the Brasilian interior. A different prospect then, from the beach-oriented metropolises of Rio and Salvador.
I was there to see a friend. Melissa is from Goiania but lives in London. She is home for 3 months on holiday. So I stayed with her at her aunt and uncle's place. It was a difficult weekend, but in many ways an amazing experience. Amazing because not many tourists get to spend 3 days living amongst real brasilians in their real homes as they live their everyday lives. Difficult because of my lack of portuguese, and their lack of English. Unsurprisingly Melissa was reluctant to be my permanent translator.
Mostly though the undercurrents made it difficult. Last summer, Melissa and I were seeing each other on a fairly casual basis. We agreed we were to be just friends before I went away to Europe in September. But even allowing for this, on the first day I arrived she seemed very distant and by the end of the evening I asked her what was wrong. She told me that her ex had been calling her and she had been put in a spin by his calls. That I reminded her too much of him. I remember thinking this was a strange thing, but then she showed me his photo. Suddenly a lot of things made sense, and I realised that I had perhaps always been a substitute. Not good.
For a good day I was wishing she had told me before, I could have stayed away and let her be. As it was we had to get through the weekend. Not easy, as she was aloof, and noone else spoke english. We ended up treating each other with kid gloves. Melissa immersed herself in her friends, leaving me to attempt to communicate with them in sign language and broken portuguese. I spoke to them more than her in the next few days. By the end of the weekend we seemed far apart, maybe both secretly glad I was going. I know I was. Being friends with someone who sees in your face memories that cause her pain is impossible.
But now I look back I am happy to have been there. Goiania is one half of the real brasil. It is not the tourist charm of Rio and being inland it is not the other half of real brasil that lives on the coast. It is something not many tourist will ever see much less do so in immersed in the company of locals. I met some cool people, I saw a new world and the people embraced me more than I could have hoped. I had a moment of smugness as we walked away from the local football stadium with Melissa and her extended family having watched her cousin Marcelo ply his trade as a professional footballer. Standing waiting for their guide was a small group of travelling westerners. In the group of brasilians, I stood out like a sore thumb. But it reminded me that they were still on the other side of the fence and I was privileged. A 3 day safari into real brasil.
I was there to see a friend. Melissa is from Goiania but lives in London. She is home for 3 months on holiday. So I stayed with her at her aunt and uncle's place. It was a difficult weekend, but in many ways an amazing experience. Amazing because not many tourists get to spend 3 days living amongst real brasilians in their real homes as they live their everyday lives. Difficult because of my lack of portuguese, and their lack of English. Unsurprisingly Melissa was reluctant to be my permanent translator.
Mostly though the undercurrents made it difficult. Last summer, Melissa and I were seeing each other on a fairly casual basis. We agreed we were to be just friends before I went away to Europe in September. But even allowing for this, on the first day I arrived she seemed very distant and by the end of the evening I asked her what was wrong. She told me that her ex had been calling her and she had been put in a spin by his calls. That I reminded her too much of him. I remember thinking this was a strange thing, but then she showed me his photo. Suddenly a lot of things made sense, and I realised that I had perhaps always been a substitute. Not good.
For a good day I was wishing she had told me before, I could have stayed away and let her be. As it was we had to get through the weekend. Not easy, as she was aloof, and noone else spoke english. We ended up treating each other with kid gloves. Melissa immersed herself in her friends, leaving me to attempt to communicate with them in sign language and broken portuguese. I spoke to them more than her in the next few days. By the end of the weekend we seemed far apart, maybe both secretly glad I was going. I know I was. Being friends with someone who sees in your face memories that cause her pain is impossible.
But now I look back I am happy to have been there. Goiania is one half of the real brasil. It is not the tourist charm of Rio and being inland it is not the other half of real brasil that lives on the coast. It is something not many tourist will ever see much less do so in immersed in the company of locals. I met some cool people, I saw a new world and the people embraced me more than I could have hoped. I had a moment of smugness as we walked away from the local football stadium with Melissa and her extended family having watched her cousin Marcelo ply his trade as a professional footballer. Standing waiting for their guide was a small group of travelling westerners. In the group of brasilians, I stood out like a sore thumb. But it reminded me that they were still on the other side of the fence and I was privileged. A 3 day safari into real brasil.
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