The longer I'm here, though, the more I start playing winter myself, putting on layers and boots when I would be wearing a t-shirt in the same temperature back in the United States. Although I still detest the bleak, dark New England winters that would exacerbate my depression, I still feel a nostalgic longing, a sense of saudade for chilly, crisp days. I've often thought the expression matar a saudade to be a gross twist on a beautiful word. Yet time and time again I find myself trying to satisfy a longing or a craving from the North.
When I'm in the car or a bus, going from city to city here, I always take in the landscapes, the various shades of green and the rolling hills and vegetation that is still exotic to me. But even after four and a half years in Brazil, I realize that the landscape doesn't bring the same comfort that tall, dark, nearly bare northeastern trees do.What I enjoyed most about these past two weekends, besides the incredible views and the chocolate, was the cool (not cold) air, the crunch of fallen, colored maple leaves, and the smell of pine trees. The landscapes from my old home that brought the most comfort, however, were wide expanses of water like the Saint Mary's River or the Atlantic Ocean. Though I'm in a country with an enormous coastline, and live only an hour's drive away from the shore, a beach trip is an exhausting journey here. In Quincy, Massachusetts, it was just a ten-minute walk away. And so, when I do art, I often paint the mountains of the Paraíba Valley in the form of blue-green waves meeting open skies. It's a comforting blend of two horizons I call home.
Sometimes I plan ways to satisfy a longing--I save certain kinds of treats I brought over from the United States for a particular time in the semester. I'm pretty sure Del's Lemonade is the best frozen lemonade in the world. It's only found in the tiny state of Rhode Island and bordering Massachusetts towns, and this local secret is the best thing ever on a hot day. This time of year, when back in New England I would be cursing the false spring and the endless winter, there are stifling days here in São José when I think, "What I wouldn't give for a Del's!"--and then I catch myself and realize, "Wait a minute--I have a bottle of the stuff that I bought in Massachusetts last July!" It's not the same, coming in a bottle and not the form of slush in a freezer, but it does hit a spot like nothing else.
There are U.S. holidays that I pass here with no fanfare one year, but perhaps take the time to make a special dish from my roots the next. One Thanksgiving I used my stash of maple syrup and dried cranberries in a recipe for roasted pumpkin and brussels sprouts, and the combination of bitter and sweet horrified my in-laws! Another time, I brought asparagus (which is not common here) drizzled with passion fruit sauce (definitely a Brazilian touch), and my mother-in-law, who usually loves the food I bring and enjoys trying new things, made me laugh when she said, "Eu não vou comer esse mato--I'm not going to eat that wild bush!" There are also times when I didn't even realize I had missed something until it comes to me. A student once brought me an iced coffee from Starbucks, and it was so refreshing! Normally a small cup of hot Brazilian coffee is just what I need, but that little gift of affection brought back a wave of nostalgia. Ever since then, Starbucks has been the place I'll go when I'm feeling homesick. We don't have pumpkin spice lattes here--not that that was ever my thing--but sometimes it's the soothing feel of a tall cup of coffee with a little shot of flavor in an atmosphere of American consumerism that keeps the homesickness at bay.
The saudade, the longings from my past that I miss, are not all landscapes and edibles. Of course, being away from loved ones is the most difficult of saudades to bear. There is a store in the mall called Puket (I have no idea what it means, but I hear "puke it" in English). Its colorful array of rainbows and unicorns and glitter--and its odd name--remind me of one of my American nieces.
There are also quirky things that happen here that remind me of my grandparents, who have passed away. One time, alone in my classroom, I turned my back from a maker activity I had set up, to write on the board. A domino that belonged to my prankster grandfather fell over, knocking a large marble through a cable hole in the desk, directly into the trash can, startling me. Other times, a wise saying from one of my grandmothers (or a snarky comment from my Mémère) will pop into my head at just the right time, bringing a smile and a wave of peace. There is a plant here called dama da noite--lady of the night--that has a potent smell that takes me by surprise randomly at different times of the year, especially April and October. It reminds me of the holly blossom, that blooms in April on my college campus in southern Maryland, and that my first sweetheart, just weeks before he died in a freak drowning accident, gave to me late one night that freshmen year. Whenever I catch a whiff of that scent, it's like bumping into him on campus, his tall frame leaning into a laugh and his shy smile appearing from behind a mop of fluffy blond hair.
You really can't kill saudade, or completely satisfy a longing. Maybe that's just one more layer of beauty and mystery in the human experience. Not everyone can open the kitchen cupboard and find the taste from their hometown that they're craving. And sometimes the fleeting glimpses of a long-ago frequented place or dearly-loved person are more bitter than sweet. Even so, I am grateful for them, and welcome the soft breeze or the whirlwind of saudade that allows me to connect North and South.
How do you experience saudade--what kinds of things do you miss the most, and how do you deal with it? If it were possible to matar saudade--to kill that longing--would you even want to? What are some of the most poignant longings and surprising combinations that you have found from two or more worlds coming together?
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