Breathe in Breathe out....

My best friend recently told me to breathe in deeply everything that I could while I was enjoying my last 54 (now 53) days that I have left in Brazil. She told me to breathe in the smells, the sounds and the feelings that I am experiencing.  When I sat down to think about what to breathe in, this is what came to me…

I want to breathe in the smells of:

*Frying garlic to prepare rice around lunchtime.

*Coffee being filtered and poured into a glass with steaming milk.

*Warm fresh French bread being counted out at the bakery.

*Summer rain and the smell of wet grass that it leaves behind.

*Various exotic fruits and fresh herbs at the local fairs.

* The smoke from the churrasqueira letting us know that the meat is ready to grill.

*Cakes and baked goods coming out of the padaria (bread store) next to the park where I walk (it really is evil letting all those decadent smells waft into the park where people are trying to be healthy and exercise).

*The very air here, at the perfect temperature- not too cool and not too hot- that has a particular smell to it that I can’t quite describe but I know that when I smell it I feel at home.

I want to breathe in the sounds:

*Of the laughter of each one of my friends (this breathe was particularly special to me)- some high pitched, some quiet chuckles, some belly busting with mouth wide open and body shaking.

*Of soccer balls exploding off the wall outside my front door and the sound of feet running fast to retrieve them, screaming protests among siblings playing together.

*Of a banging lock on the front door or the horn of a VW van outside the gate of the project, signaling that someone needs us to let them in.

*Of buses passing by and struggling up steep hills.

*Of pressure pans whirling and hissing signaling that the beans are ready.

*Of funk from the bars on Sacramento wafting through (more like violently invading) my windows until all hours of the night.

*Of sabiás announcing the dawn arriving too soon after a night of laughter and conversation with friends in multiple languages.

*Of the various slang and accents that come from living among people from all over Brazil- Minas, Rio, the Northeast and even my own Americanized São Paulo accent.

*Of the dog that lives next door that takes great pleasure in barking at all hours of the day (and night).

*Of the pulsating rhythms of drums and tambourines and the accompanying voices singing well-known melodies for feet to dance to well past the hour of the last bus having stopped running, leaving us no option but to continue until they start running again.

*Of summer rains pounding outside my open window as I sit and thank God that I don’t have to leave the house.

*Of listening to Flávio Gikovate, our favorite psychiatrist, on the radio every Sunday night driving home from church.

*Of hearing the only name the kids know me by- “Tia!!! Tia!!!”

*Of the way various people have their own ways of greeting me- “Fala Dona Emily,” “E ai tchê?” “Tudo bem, linda?” “Como vai querida?” “Oi Emie!” “Oi meu bem!”

I want to breathe deeply everything that I touch or touches me:

*The sometimes quick, sometimes prolonged embrace and kiss on the cheek to say hello or goodbye, allowing me to remember with ease the smell of perfume and cologne that is distinct to that person. (If I kiss you hello or goodbye when I get home, please don’t think I am weird…)

*Holding onto the seats or leaning against the window to brace myself during a long bus ride home during rush hour, or squeezing myself into on a metro amidst thousands of other people trying to make it to work on time.

*The hugs and kisses I get from the kids at church when they come in late and the whole service stops so they can kiss everyone present before running off to play.

*Feeling the palpable freedom in dancing to all the various rhythms in Brasil- samba, forro, sertaneja, jongo, maracatu, reggae, popular Brazilian music and more (even heard blue grass music while I was here). Dancing until my feet ache, my heart is pounding, my face drenched with sweat, and yet not being ready to stop.

*Walking in the rain and feeling soft raindrops misting on your skin, deciding whether it is worth getting an umbrella out or not.

*Feet pounding the pavement as you run to get out of a torrential downpour  that gave no warning and left you in the middle of the street without an umbrella and consequently soaking wet from head to toe.

And the tastes- oh how I could breathe in the tastes forever…

Starfruit

Mango

Tea with Soy Milk

Passionfruit

Pastel

Guarana Zero

Fresh pineapple and mint juice

Açai

Caqui

Rice and Beans

Cheese Bread

Honey Bread

Chicken Kabobs

Sweet Popcorn

Japonese Peanuts

Cheese and Guava Paste

Haley’s homemade baked goods

Churrasco and Cookies

I will continue to breathe all of this in for the next 53 days. And even after I am in the States, I will continue to sit and close my eyes from time to time and remember all of these breaths, all of these sounds, smells, touches, and tastes that I carry so deeply within me, and then I will remember with gladness that somewhere deep inside, I never really left home. I carry it with me in every inhalation I take…