Happy New Year, everyone! Back from the Brazil and raring to go into 2019. How did you spend the holidays?
Starting when I was a teen, whenever I’d travel somewhere, I’d write back to family in large, often rambling emails. Strangely, they were well –received, and this time around there were enough requests that it was worth making a post on.
Rodrigo and I spent the entire month of December in Brazil, and if that sounds like a big deal, that’s because it is. This was our first time traveling outside the country together, which is a huge milestone for us. Rodrigo was undocumented for fifteen years, 5 of which we were fighting for his green card. He finally got his residency in summer of 2017 (woot!!), which meant that he could come and go from the US as he pleased.
Naturally, our first big trip was to visit family! He hails from Goiânia, a large city in central Brazil, 2-3 hours from Brasília.
And the family is H U G E.
The Birthday
Example: My mother-in-law’s 60th birthday was in early December, so we had a party. A family gathering, of sorts. Remember this post? What you didn’t see was alllll the family:
Whoops, my bad. That was a few of us on an emergency linguiça run. Here we go:
Haha, nope, that’s not all of us, just some of the fraction of the family that rented a bus to get from Brasilia to Goiania.
Here we go:
But wait –that’s still not all of us, only the people who stayed the night. We had mattresses lined up down the driveway, and in Rodrigo’s words, they were “stacked with the elderly”. Some chose to sleep early, like dear Tio Zé, whose bare feet I nearly tripped on when I went into our room to get something. He was out like a toddler on Dimetapp and it was barely noon.
The white elephant exchange at Bia’s birthday (called “friend of the jaguar”) had fifty participants. The biggest hit was, for some inexplicable reason, an airline neck pillow. Damned if I know why.
The whole event lasted over 24 hours and the guests ranged from a few months old to old enough to not want to ask lest you jinx them and they keel over. There was dancing, cachaça, lots of yelling, and lots of cake. Brazilians excel at desserts – in fact, you haven’t thrown a proper party if you haven’t provided a dessert table that must include cake, bonbons, and anything sweet you can put in large glass jars. That last part is very important, as it adds height to the table and makes everything feel more decadent. Just saying.
We’ve got merengues, we’ve got cake (which had glitter embedded in the frosting!!), we have white chocolate bonbons, we have dark chocolate bonbons, and what’s not pictured are the party favors, which also featured bonbons. As I write this, my brain is playing a dance number in which bonbons move in kaleidoscope format ala Busby Berkeley.
We’ve Got Questions
Being American and having family in another culture can be a source of entertainment for both parties. Naturally, they had questions for me, including but not limited to:
Why is there ovaltine powder on your feet? (answer: it was a self-tanning mistake, not a foot fetish gone wrong).
Why would you eat mangos and drink coffee at the same time? (answer: when am I not eating mangos and drinking coffee?).
(More on the bodysuit here and shorts here)
Why would you ever drink red wine at room temperature? (answer: shrug because I don’t know anything about wine).
Why would you run in a thunderstorm? (answer: because I had made a plan and a little weather isn’t getting in my way).
Why do you preferentially use the outhouse? (answer: because I don’t want people to hear me poop).
Why do you go to bed so early? (answer: it’s 2 am).
Over the days, I also had questions.
Why is there linguica hanging on the clothing line? (answer: to dry, you idiot).
Is that coffee in your cup? (no sweetie, it’s my morning cachaça).
Why is the primetime novella a sexy version of the Gospel of Mark? (answer: is there any other version of the Gospel of Mark?).
Why is there a children’s telenovela, and why does it only come on at 10 o’clock at night, after the sexy gospel novela? (answer: God only knows).
Are you sure that’s a chamber pot and not a mixing bowl? (Answer – duh, it has a handle.)
Why does the shower knob give me an electric shock? (answer: don’t you know how electricity works?).
The point being – things have their own rhythm and everyone has their own way of doing things. I don’t get to judge, but I do get to learn. Isn’t that so true about humans in general?
Family Time
I come from a pretty small family. We’re lucky in that we’re close; there aren’t many of us, but we value our time together when we can get it. As you’ve probably figured out by now, I spend a lot of time with Papa Mendes, my dad, because he lives only 35 minutes away. I get precious little time with my mom, my stepdad, my sister, and my two aunts and uncles though, which stinks because I have a special relationship with each of them.
We schedule things a few times a year, we make plans, and things are
structured. There is usually a go time and a departure time, and events tend to be limited to ten people at most.
Rodrigo’s family, on the other hand … we could go to a different aunt or cousin’s house every day of the week and not satiate all of the visitation requirements. Where there is one aunt or uncle, there are cousins; where there are cousins, there are babies. Where there are babies, there are the grandparents. And grandparents often have living siblings and parents, and they would like to make lunch for us. Four hours away. It’ll be a short, eight-hour lunch with a trip to the farmer’s market and a light master’s class on deep frying various forms of pastry. That eight hour time window is really just a suggestion, more of a
guideline than a rule, which means it often unfolds from there.
One expression you almost always hear when the end of the event comes is, “so soon? Why don’t you spend the night?” which I can’t help but think is only a little sarcastic after ten hours of lunch.
No matter what, there are usually several forms of personality present.
There’s the enthusiastic drinker, who has the composure and maturity of a baboon locked in a communion cabinet and/or tells you his opinions on Obama (spoiler: he’s a leftist loser who ruined the country, even though said uncle has never been to the US).
There’s the infant, who seems to be able so sleep through sonic booms (come to think of it, there are a few uncles who do that, too).
There’s the sweet uncle/brother-in-law/cousin who goes against the gender roles and helps clean, serve, and cook – because fair is fair and he’s a #feminist. This trait also makes said
uncle/brother-in-law/cousin extremely likeable by everyone except the people he’s making look lazy. But you can’t be liked by everyone, so they say.
There’s the toddler, in various states of fits (that part is universal, also a trait of some of the adults).
There are the young kids, who are at that stage where washing and vacuuming your car is a fun leisure activity (no complaints there).
There are the older kids, who find the nearest wifi and huddle in the dark (also universal).
There are the aunts, who produce pots and pans of alarming proportions with little to no lead time, yielding astounding quantities of rice, beans, and all types of roasted barnyard animals. There is a fair amount of entertainment via gossip that happens during said preparation. By entertainment, I’m thinking more Jerry Springer ballpark and less 60 Minutes, although with gossip there is some level of journalism happening. There is also a fair amount of anxiety expressed when I cover half my plate with vegetables and opt out of meat for a meal. Sometimes rice and beans and potatoes and spaghetti is enough for one meal. But how will you get strong, if you don’t eat meat? Insert My Big Fat Greek Wedding memes here.
There are the real old folks, some of whom are entering the tough stage of dementia (is there any other kind?) where they often forget their own family, but do remember me. Even though I have definitely, definitely never met them. But that’s when you smile and take their hand and let them ask you why you’ve been hidden away all these years.
There’s Always Time
Despite how cavalier I may sound – which is not my intention – all of this is to say that there is room for EVERYONE in the family. That’s what makes it such a strong structure, such a pillar for people’s lives. Sure, there’s gossip, cachaça, a healthy amount of eye rolling, and like any family nothing is perfect. But there is always time. There is always time.
That’s something my goal-driven personality has trouble with. Time? You mean, like penciling you in? Time, like how much time do I need to achieve X goal? (see above statement about running in thunderstorms).
And here’s where our American family is probably tut-tutting me. As my parents and their siblings get older, or maybe it’s just as I get less dense and listen more, what they’ve been teaching me though their actions is that the best gift we can give each other is our time. We live far away from each other, we’re all in different life phases, different financial phases, etc – but they’ve always prioritized having time together. There is always time for the ones you love.
Like, duh.
Sometimes popping into a new family, one that is so vastly different from your own, can help you understand what should have been obvious for years. People don’t have a lot where Rodrigo comes from, at least not by Bay Area standards. Things are hard. I never, ever want to romanticize that. This is not a “wow, things are so hard but look how happy those people are” situation. I find that attitude to be minimizing AND only in the service of the “first world” observer (i.e., it makes us feel better. Whoop-dee-doo). There is stress, bickering, there sometimes is too much alcohol, there are all the things that happen in any country, to any family when your day-to-day is rough.
Work can be hard to come by, and sometimes people have to support their family on minimum wage ($250/month). There are no family getaways for the most part, there are no parties celebrating that your kid got into the Family University, no cars appear on your 16th birthday. Your house might be held together by cinderblocks and rosaries.
But time is so universal (ok, unless you’re a relativity buff, in which case just take the metaphor, ok?). We all have it, until we don’t. That last part, until we don’t, is the scary part, right? I said above that there’s always time. That doesn’t mean that there will always be time, only that there is time in this moment for those you love.
Hard to internalize, right? I have a hard time, at least. I’m an introvert. I love my own company. I love my projects, going on runs with my dog, my writing, my fashion stuff. I will always make time for those things.
AND
Connection is what makes us human. So be a human. Make the time. Accept each other, even when it means making boundaries if you need to so you feel safe spending that precious time. That’s cool, too.
So for the first post of the year – that isn’t even fashion related, omggg – how about we think about how we give our time? I am not advocating that you skimp on alone time, or make time for people that don’t help you feel more you. That’s where those boundaries I mentioned come in (a huge
topic for another post).
It comes down to seeing people as they are and meeting them there. Finding joy in those little moments you share, even if that person isn’t your favorite, or even if you adore them but they’ve been keeping you captive in their house as they show you photos of various deceased relatives, or they make one more Obama comment. I find that there is nothing like eye contact and listening and validating to make my heart feel full, even if the other person does none of those things.
There is so much more to write about, some days that were absolute craziness, lessons learned, beautiful moments to be shared. For now, I wish you a VERY happy new year, full of joy and people you love.
Love,
Stig.
