So why is this American living in São José dos Campos? Though it's a big city, and not far from São Paulo, it's definitely not on the typical tourist route.
The story might actually have begun in Italy in 2006, during my second visit there. I remember before I left home for a five-month stay, on sort of a spiritual journey, my grandmother had told me that I would discover talents I never knew I had. I shrugged it off, reminding her that I was an artist--starting a career in illustration at the time--and didn't think I had much talent for anything else. However, it was during those five months, traveling throughout the country, but staying mostly in a small town on the boarder of Switzerland, that I surprised myself by picking up a lot of the Italian language. By the end of my stay, though not completely fluent, I was able to comfortably carry on a conversation, and this amazed me--I wasn't quite the silly, stereotypically ignorant American that I thought I was! I had studied Spanish in high school--even tested into the accelerated course in college, but I rarely spoke the language in class, and so I never got much practice using it. But something happened in Italy, being surrounded by the language, learning, by listening, to figure out the meanings of new words and expressions, constantly writing stuff down, illustrating words and expressions, and purposefully placing myself near Italians who didn't speak English so that I could be forced to practice.
That same year, a Brazilian named Naldo traveled to Israel, also on a spiritual journey. It was there that he started praying for a life partner, before returning to his hometown to finish his education and pursue his career as an engineer.
And me, having grown a lot personally from being part of an international team, came back to Boston to continue my career as an artist. Shortly before I left, one of our team leaders had said something like, "Now that you've learned so much Italian, if you ever have to learn Portuguese, it should be easy." And with the same know-it-all smile I had given my grandmother, I told her, "That may be so, but, I'm going to learn Spanish for sure this time--it would be so useful in Boston!"
Although I did start studying Spanish again, and found opportunities to tune my ears to it, it didn't come as easily as Italian, perhaps because I didn't make as big of an effort to reach out to native speakers, feeling shy to break the ice with a stranger back in my own culture where I didn't have the obvious introduction as an American abroad who wanted to learn. It was during that time, while pursuing my illustration career and working different art-related jobs, that I found by chance a new passion in teaching art. It was not too long after this, after having met a few Brazilians that I decided to give Portuguese a try, and, with the excitement that this language brought me, and my newly-found confidence in teaching, I eventually decided to get certified to teach English to speakers of other languages.
In my TEFL course, I studied with four other Brazilians with whom I clicked right away, plus several other interesting people that I had lots in common with, and I also met some lovely international students who I would soon count among my good friends. Becoming an English teacher was the most exciting thing I had done since traveling, and, although art was still a driving force in the background, I knew that this new career path was the right one.
Fast forward to 2013. I had already visited Brazil; my Portuguese, progressing at slow intervals over the years had surpassed my Italian. I was teaching international adult students at a school that I loved, always thinking up new games to practice vocabulary, designing colorful interactive whiteboard activities to help students tackle difficult grammar, and bringing my love of cultural exchange into a variety of activities both in and outside the classroom. Although students of all backgrounds adored me and the creative energy that characterized my lessons, sometimes, Brazilian students seemed to like me a lot more. Especially one.
It was a typical week for me. My current class was a fun mix of energetic, eager students from Thailand, Japan, Colombia, and Brazil, among other places, and, though we had great synergy in the classroom, I had been feeling a particularly gloomy lackluster in my personal life. One day during a break, a Brazilian student who I hadn't met before, having heard from another student that I spoke Portuguese, called out to me in her language, and we started chatting. She asked me how I had learned the language, and I mentioned audio lessons, podcasts, and a Brazilian church community I had found. When I said the word "church," she got excited, and asked me more, and something in me lit up as well, having discovered a common spiritual background with someone from another part of the world. By this time, two other Brazilians had joined the conversation, including this guy, Naldo, who had been very quiet in my class. I invited all three of them to join me in visiting a church or two in order to practice their English among kindred spirits , and we all walked away from the conversation smiling, excited about our shared affinity. It was Naldo, so I heard from him later, that might have walked away with a few more sparks flying.
A few days later, I was going to a barbecue north of the city with a group of girls from my class. We were talking up a storm, walking down Washington Street to the Downtown Crossing metro. Although I knew the Boston T very well, and could have guided us to a quicker Orange line entrance, I was distracted by our laughs and conversation, and we ended up going the long way, down and up and around again to the Oak Grove track. When arrived there, a train had just pulled out, and we began to wait. And then, who should show up, but that shy student, Naldo! His homestay was in Malden, the same direction that we were going. As we waited for the next train, I opened up a package of cheesy tortilla snacks that I was bringing to the party, and we all started to eat and talk, making our own party. When the next train pulled up, the girls managed to get a seat together, but Naldo and I were left standing, sharing a pole, and then, ever so naturally, sharing more of our lives. I never speak Portuguese
during class, but outside of class I do, and speaking in his language gave us a chance to get to know each other, and discover many things we had in common. When the girls and I got off at our stop, I was marvelling at how solid and refreshing this guy was.
And that invitation to visit a church, that I had extended to those three Brazilians? To make a long story short, it somehow ended up turning into a date with just me and Naldo, who was determined to kiss his teacher in the Boston Public Garden that Sunday afternoon. I never thought I would date a student, but a lot of things seemed to line up in just the right way. We had many secret rendevous in downtown Boston that month. Though my friends and family were clued in about this unlikely relationship, we didn't go public with it until much later, only because I didn't want to deal with gossip about a teacher dating a student while I was still working in Boston. Before Naldo went back to Brazil, we had dinner with a Brazilian couple I am good friends with, and also met my grandparents, who gave their blessing. With him back in Brazil, our dating continued over video chat for the next several months, and, after two visits to São José dos Campos, and a visit to meet my parents in Maryland, we got engaged (that's another story for another time), and married on the Neponset River of the south shore of Boston 15 months later. We just celebrated our third anniversary this week!
The same week of my wedding, I finished packing up my apartment in Quincy and moved to São José dos Campos. Since Naldo had a good job near his hometown, as well as a nice condo, and since I can teach English anywhere in the world, speak Portuguese, and hate cold weather, it made perfect sense for me to move here, rather than him moving there. Of course there are things I miss about my old life, but I was ready for a new adventure. I certainly traded some problems for some other problems when I moved here, but every February when Boston is shrouded in wintery darkness and I am in a sundress, not a wool coat, walking to work by brightly-colored flowers and under palm trees rather than through snow drifts and over ice sheets, I am reminded of just how right a fit it is for this Bostonian gringa to be wandering off the beaten path, no longer by the Saint Mary's River of my college days, and not in the fields of Saint Joseph, but in Saint Joseph of the Fields.
The story might actually have begun in Italy in 2006, during my second visit there. I remember before I left home for a five-month stay, on sort of a spiritual journey, my grandmother had told me that I would discover talents I never knew I had. I shrugged it off, reminding her that I was an artist--starting a career in illustration at the time--and didn't think I had much talent for anything else. However, it was during those five months, traveling throughout the country, but staying mostly in a small town on the boarder of Switzerland, that I surprised myself by picking up a lot of the Italian language. By the end of my stay, though not completely fluent, I was able to comfortably carry on a conversation, and this amazed me--I wasn't quite the silly, stereotypically ignorant American that I thought I was! I had studied Spanish in high school--even tested into the accelerated course in college, but I rarely spoke the language in class, and so I never got much practice using it. But something happened in Italy, being surrounded by the language, learning, by listening, to figure out the meanings of new words and expressions, constantly writing stuff down, illustrating words and expressions, and purposefully placing myself near Italians who didn't speak English so that I could be forced to practice.
That same year, a Brazilian named Naldo traveled to Israel, also on a spiritual journey. It was there that he started praying for a life partner, before returning to his hometown to finish his education and pursue his career as an engineer.
And me, having grown a lot personally from being part of an international team, came back to Boston to continue my career as an artist. Shortly before I left, one of our team leaders had said something like, "Now that you've learned so much Italian, if you ever have to learn Portuguese, it should be easy." And with the same know-it-all smile I had given my grandmother, I told her, "That may be so, but, I'm going to learn Spanish for sure this time--it would be so useful in Boston!"
Although I did start studying Spanish again, and found opportunities to tune my ears to it, it didn't come as easily as Italian, perhaps because I didn't make as big of an effort to reach out to native speakers, feeling shy to break the ice with a stranger back in my own culture where I didn't have the obvious introduction as an American abroad who wanted to learn. It was during that time, while pursuing my illustration career and working different art-related jobs, that I found by chance a new passion in teaching art. It was not too long after this, after having met a few Brazilians that I decided to give Portuguese a try, and, with the excitement that this language brought me, and my newly-found confidence in teaching, I eventually decided to get certified to teach English to speakers of other languages.
In my TEFL course, I studied with four other Brazilians with whom I clicked right away, plus several other interesting people that I had lots in common with, and I also met some lovely international students who I would soon count among my good friends. Becoming an English teacher was the most exciting thing I had done since traveling, and, although art was still a driving force in the background, I knew that this new career path was the right one.
Fast forward to 2013. I had already visited Brazil; my Portuguese, progressing at slow intervals over the years had surpassed my Italian. I was teaching international adult students at a school that I loved, always thinking up new games to practice vocabulary, designing colorful interactive whiteboard activities to help students tackle difficult grammar, and bringing my love of cultural exchange into a variety of activities both in and outside the classroom. Although students of all backgrounds adored me and the creative energy that characterized my lessons, sometimes, Brazilian students seemed to like me a lot more. Especially one.
It was a typical week for me. My current class was a fun mix of energetic, eager students from Thailand, Japan, Colombia, and Brazil, among other places, and, though we had great synergy in the classroom, I had been feeling a particularly gloomy lackluster in my personal life. One day during a break, a Brazilian student who I hadn't met before, having heard from another student that I spoke Portuguese, called out to me in her language, and we started chatting. She asked me how I had learned the language, and I mentioned audio lessons, podcasts, and a Brazilian church community I had found. When I said the word "church," she got excited, and asked me more, and something in me lit up as well, having discovered a common spiritual background with someone from another part of the world. By this time, two other Brazilians had joined the conversation, including this guy, Naldo, who had been very quiet in my class. I invited all three of them to join me in visiting a church or two in order to practice their English among kindred spirits , and we all walked away from the conversation smiling, excited about our shared affinity. It was Naldo, so I heard from him later, that might have walked away with a few more sparks flying.
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| We just had to snap a selfie in this spot on our last visit! |
And that invitation to visit a church, that I had extended to those three Brazilians? To make a long story short, it somehow ended up turning into a date with just me and Naldo, who was determined to kiss his teacher in the Boston Public Garden that Sunday afternoon. I never thought I would date a student, but a lot of things seemed to line up in just the right way. We had many secret rendevous in downtown Boston that month. Though my friends and family were clued in about this unlikely relationship, we didn't go public with it until much later, only because I didn't want to deal with gossip about a teacher dating a student while I was still working in Boston. Before Naldo went back to Brazil, we had dinner with a Brazilian couple I am good friends with, and also met my grandparents, who gave their blessing. With him back in Brazil, our dating continued over video chat for the next several months, and, after two visits to São José dos Campos, and a visit to meet my parents in Maryland, we got engaged (that's another story for another time), and married on the Neponset River of the south shore of Boston 15 months later. We just celebrated our third anniversary this week!
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| Naldo's Graduation from Embassy Boston |
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| For our wedding invitation, I drew us in the style of Turma da Monica, my favorite Brazilian cartoon |
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