Brazil and the Soul
- By: Laura Hoover
- Created on: 10/01/2007
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I expected Brazil to teach me everything. Cooped up in a country of plastic, I thirsted for this place that seemed to me to be the homeland of pulse and vibrancy.
I arrived with fifty-some other suburban kids for a choir tour, and as we boarded tour buses I kept my eyes wide for the effervescence I was sure I would find. However, as we drove through the city, I grew increasingly confused as it sunk in that the images outside weren't affecting me. I had expected to see this country and immediately know more about life and the world. I had expected epiphanies and discoveries.
I realized a few days later what the problem was. It was the bus windows that separated me from Brazil, dulling the colors and muffling the rhythms, and made me feel as though I was seeing shantytowns in a documentary instead of in reality. While we drove, I stared at the streets outside and felt their pull, craving the freedom to walk them instead. Simply seeing was not enough. I needed to run my hands over the architecture, to sit on the curb to talk to people, to feed stray dogs. But in a schedule filled with rehearsals and tourist visits, there was no time for such sensual experiences.
My best hope was the town of Botucatu, where we were each to stay with a Brazilian family. I memorized Isabella Juliani's name and imagined what things would be like living with her, picturing adventures to widen my view of the world and late night talks about life that would transcend the language barrier.
Instead, while my friends' host siblings took them exploring around town, Isabella and I watched American music videos and went to bed early with little to say. The four-year age difference between us manifested itself in our contrasting interests- hers in the mainstream of my country, and mine in the free and unique quality of hers.
I left Botucatu with an increased yearning for Brazilian reality and beauty, and decided that it was up to me alone to find it around me. Passing through towns, I stopped listening to the guide describe landmarks and instead searched for signs of life. Bright clotheslines outside tiny rectangular houses. Soccer fields full of laughing, barefoot children. Graffiti that spoke of love and social change so obviously that even I, not able to decipher the language, could understand. We stopped at a light next to a bus station and a man waiting there, weary and dirty, responded to my timid smile with a wide one. Somewhere in his eyes it was clear that he understood my search for life- that I was not a simple American tourist, but someone who needed his warmth to verify that such a search was not in vain. His glance lasted until we pulled away.
Relieved that I had begun to see, what now worried me was the disconnect I still felt. I had found visible evidence of the character of Brazil and, while I realized I would have to return on my own to truly experience it, I was unwilling to leave without some taste.
Opportunity came in the form of samba. Our tour directors hired a local band to come play for us, and for two songs I sat with the rest of my choir, tapping my toes, and then could stand no more. I stood up silently and moved to the back of the room to dance. Closing my eyes, I felt the music overtake me. I kicked off my shoes and felt the hard floor with each beat of the drums. Then my hips heard the rich, sensual quality of the voices and responded in kind, meandering with the melody. My body began to weave as one piece, each finger and tendon unifying with some aspect of the music until I felt I had become music and Brazil itself. When I opened my eyes at the end of the song, I noticed the crowd of my peers who had stood up to dance with me, each contributing to the energy in the air.
In this country of spirit, life becomes not about possessions or success but about soul and the essence of each moment. Though I left Brazil, I did not leave this behind. I now know the vividness that life can be, and until I return to Brazil I will live as vivaciously as I can, always searching for the beauty around me.
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