Connecting the dots

I’ve passed the stoplight at customs roughly more than 20 times. The first was probably before I could walk. A trip to Rio is a family tradition, whenever one is not realized the peculiarity as to why we didn’t make the trip is always remembered with a certain scratch of the head. A year without a little Brazilian heat on the skin leaves us always feeling slightly incomplete. I’ve tried to fight it, but this year I’ve realized there is no point. It is a pilgrimage that is written in bold ink in our familial bible.

Over the past few vacations I have had a growing itch to drive here; each time met with a strong dosage of precaution… or flat out no. Obviously never spelled out that way, but done the Brazilian way – through a veiled anecdote that segues into a change of subject. I have traveled the world, but Brazil always carries an extra twenty becarefuls from family and friends. You would think it would be the opposite.

That said, I finally grabbed the horns, or should I say the wheel, and did what I had longed to do. These last few days there has been something exceptionally freeing about connecting a lifelong list of visual cues, fragmented by my unassuming eyes. Never before had I truly paid attention to the signage. In truth, after all these years I only halfheartedly created a map of my surroundings. I had relied on my parents, my family and my friends to be my guides. With the arrival of my brother-in-law and sister-in-law this week, I finally became that guide. Hustling back-and-forth, soaking in the city's air and fumes, I have gained a new found appreciation for the Cidade Maravilhosa. A true beauty that transcends time and which proudly has shaped the Carvalhos that preceded me and those that will undoubtedly succeed me.

There is a traveler's axiom that you never really know a city unless you travel through it like a local. Truth can never be combated.

Eterna contradição humana

A eterna contradição humana (conto de Machado de Assis)

Eu achei muito legal como Machado de Assis capturou este conceito através da ironia.

O ser humano parece ter um conflito constante dentro de si. Pessoalmente, eu acredito que quando nós nascemos uma lei é escrita em nós que nos puxa a fazer o bem. Que se vira uma evidencia de Deus. Mas também como nós nascemos no mundo que haja mal que e conseqüência dos nossos pecados, cada um de nós temos uma batalha do bem contra o mal.

Esta batalha tem tido vários nomes. Platão falou que era o apetite contra o espírito. Freud falou que era o Id contra o Super Ego. Judeus e Cristãos falam que é nosso espírito contra a nossa carne. Muitos dizem que é somente nossa consciência. Verdade é verdade apesar do nome que nós colocamos, realmente existe esta guerra interna.

Por causa disso o ser humano não é perfeito apesar dos loucos que se acham perfeito. Então nós sempre vamos errar de uma forma ou outra. Esta é a razão que muitos digam ser crente ou católico ou que se for, mas não sempre fazem o que eles pregam a ser. Não poupando eles de nada, mas eles são humanos que também tem este conflito. E isto também explica porque uma pessoa que parece ser tão cruel ainda é capaz de fazer um ato de bondade.

A ripple that set off a wave

Today I heard a story about a woman whose decisions impacted my very existence. Up to this day her presence was nothing more than a mere triviality – the sort you only think about during an elementary school assignment. In truth she wasn’t even an afterthought, as my mind knew absolutely nothing about her. This lady, who no longer had a youthful bounce in her step, decided to leave home for the unknown. She left a house that was nestled on a beautiful island with God knows how many centuries of roots firmly entrenched in the soil. The decision to leave would unleash a wave that would replace every familiar face with that of a cold stare of another. She crossed the tumultuous Atlantic, passed through Ellis Island and settled in Massachusetts. She wasn’t looking for a new chapter, but in fact was determined to write a new book altogether. She confronted this journey not once, but numerous times. By sea and by air.

Once she had the conviction she had found what she was looking for, she called her son and daughter-in-law to join her. A difficult task because they had eight rug rats of their own that ranged from the ages of 14 to 1. In what is an unthinkable decision today, they decided to go and leave the youngest seven with a trusted neighbor as they tested the waters. A year later, they called for the remaining children to join them.

Now imagine these mischievous seven – three boys, four girls – making the journey alone. They not only had the difficulty of being youthfully innocent, but also had grown up on an island that isolated them from the outside world altogether. A world that had yet to be touched by satellites, Internet and cell phones that have considerably flattened the globe today.

The seven miraculously found their way onto the airplane without a coin in their pockets. During the journey one of the seven warned the others not to accept any food on the plane in fear they would be stuck with a large bill that would leave them with an old fashioned spanking from their father upon their arrival. Another tried to light a match in the bathroom and was punished by the stewardess. And the youngest cried all the way to their final destination because her siblings had no idea she was wearing far too many layers of clothing. “Who is watching these children?” was the question on everyone’s lips, to which the answer was always the same: one sibling pointing to the other.

What I outlined here is nothing more than a glimpse into an unbelievable tale that rings hauntingly true. The story today about this woman – my great-grandmother – and her ambition to leave São Miguel for Fall River and then ultimately having my mother, one of the seven, migrate to the United States is…simply…remarkable.

Over the last week I have been thinking a lot about the decisions in life we make that ripple not only through our lives, but also through our family trees. There was a time my parents seriously considered – bags packed, house purchased – to move us to Brazil. I was seven. I cannot even fathom the outcome.

To this I leave the following: think about these major decisions carefully because someday one of your offspring could be penning your legacy.

A Praia

A praia é um lugar incrível. É um lugar que muitos associa com um paraíso. Mas a beleza natural da praia não é o unico aspecto que se faz tão incrível. Este aspecto é o poder de relaxar apesar que você está no ambiente barulhento.

Quando você chega na praia tem varios distrações. Tem camelôs passando toda hora gritando, “…É o sanduiche natural…Olá Mate fresco, Olá Kibon…” Tem vinte conversas paralelas falando de mil assuntos. Tem cachorros latindo. Crianças correndo por perto. Tem o som da bolinha batendo na raquete no jogo de fiscoball. É um ambiente barulhento.

Mas, o momento que você deita na areia branca e fecha seus olhos, tudo passa. O unico som que você ouvi é o som das ondas quebrando. Incrível.