The eternal nomad

An embrace tighter and longer than to which I was accustomed, followed by my face being cupped in her hands and a kiss on the cheek. “Prazer em conhecê-lo!” (“pleasure to meet you!”) Was I exuding friendliness? Was I someone famous? No. I was the new tenant in her building. My stay was to be short, but I was being welcomed like a grandchild finally coming home.

I head back out to explore. I was at the tip of Brazil, too far south to feel the rhythms and taste the spice of the African influenced north. This was Gaucho land. Fiercely proud Gauchos still donned traditional bombachas (baggy pants) and ponchos and lived an anachronistic way of life. The town itself had been catapulted into modernity due to a recently opened port. My first view of the street was a traditionally dressed Gaucho sitting majestically astride a horse, waiting for the traffic light change. I value tradition and admired the Gauchos. This was their home and they chose how to live.

At the same intersection, travellers juggled their hearts out. Red changed to green and there was a scramble to collect tips before the cars drove away. The smiles and animated facial expressions that accompanied their act faded when they were left counting too few coins in their hands. Audible grumbles narrated a more difficult, less happy-go lucky reality. However, time and again on my travels I had also heard of the joy and freedom of this lifestyle. As a closet free-spirit I associate strongly with the desire to be free from the confines of society. Everywhere is their home.

Continuing my stroll, I noticed the subtleties of everyday life felt familiar. The sing-song way of calling out to neighbours. A selection of “bolina” snacks my grandma makes were on display at the local baker’s. I recognized the Portuguese style of houses, but did the families sitting on the porches in that familiar way, come with the architecture? Originally hailing from Goa, India, (a former Portuguese colony), I realized that these familiarities were remnants of a colonial Portuguese past. I had never lived in Goa, having grown up in Qatar and studied in Canada, however, an innate part of me was being awakened. My shoulders relaxed and I felt giddy. The kindness of strangers, the Gaucho pride in tradition, the free-spirited travellers and finally the familiarity of Portuguese culture. A nomad my whole life. Taking my first steps in a country I had never visited before. I would never forget the day I finally came home.