Sequel, or Rerun?

Photo Credit: Gareth Leonard

Wandering the aisles of a grocery store on my first day in Rio, a long-forgotten detergent jingle slipped back into my head. It was only when I got to the checkout line that I realized my cart was a nine-year-old's fantasy: cookies, chocolate milk, candy bars and yogurt-- not a vegetable in sight.

Until our move back to Brazil, my relationship with the country was stuck in 1998. But I'm reminded daily that this is not the country I left behind.

In spite of their breezy and jovial stereotypes, Brazilians are self-critical to an extreme. A casual conversation with a stranger will quickly turn into a stoning of Brazil's corruption, inefficiency and uncultured citizens.

"Why go to Brazil? All there is to see are poverty and slums," a relative said on the eve of our move. "It's less developed than countries in Africa," warned another.

Brazilians wear their cynicism with pride--the curated wariness of the wise. This deep-rooted pessimism unites residents of every social class. But it's not without cause. Brazilians hold on for dear life as the country rides through the chronic booms and busts of a cyclical economy. One day investors are rushing into the country with seemingly insatiable demand for its resources, and the next, savings turn to dust in shuttered banks and bankrupt stores.

Still, coming back after 20 years, it is difficult not to spot signs of progress everywhere I look. Gone are the gaunt children and young mothers begging for money at every red light. Gambian immigrants have replaced kids and teenagers selling food and toys on the beach. Housekeepers armed with fresh labor rights are no longer confined to matchbox rooms in the back of the home, working 15-day shifts.

These snapshots of development are not the rose-colored outlook of a returning traveler. Forty million Brazilians--one out of every five--have been lifted out of poverty since the mid 1990's, thanks in part to popular cash transfer programs like Bolsa Familia. From 2001 to 2007, Brazil managed to cut the percentage of people living in extreme poverty in half.

But less than two months before what was supposed to be Brazil's shining debut at the Olympics, the mood in Rio is decisively sour.

Brazilians see the progress of the last two decades slipping through their fingers. Slowly but surely, hunger and inequality are creeping back. Crime is swelling in the city as the government fights to keep a lid on drug trafficking and "pacify" the favelas.

The more cynical among us saw it coming. "It'll never last," friends said in 2007, when Brazil became the darling of investors.

Last weekend we climbed the Arpoador, an ungainly bolder jutting off the coast of Ipanema. Dozens moseyed up, surveying their city from another perspective. Rio dazzles. The city is a sensational juxtaposition of graffiti-tattooed buildings and flamboyant mountains. On cue, the spectators took their seats. Everyone applauded as the sun surrendered, celebrating the end of one more day.

Dangerous Currents

I still remember trying to peal off the pink wallpaper in my room. Faded pencil dashes grayed the wall, marks of my childhood. We were moving and I was trying to understand what was going to happen to the only home I'd ever known. The idea of another nine-year-old girl replacing my height marks with her own bothered me. Couldn't I just take the wallpaper with me? What if I didn't like who was going to be sleeping in my room?

Life in Sao Paulo, Brazil's polluted metropolis, had reached a boiling point. Fed up with crime and corruption, my parents packed our lives into a couple of suitcases and announced we were moving. They were determined to leave. So determined that they took off with no jobs or family to anchor them. It paid off and they traded Sao Paulo's smoggy skyline for suburban Miami's green lawns and strip malls. They never looked back.

That was 18 years ago. This week, much to their dismay, I reversed that journey. With four suitcases and 1 1/4 jobs between us, my husband and I moved to Brazil. We left behind stable jobs in the US, a wonderful apartment and some of the best friends we've ever had, and landed in a country that almost everyone agrees is falling apart. The laundry list of Brazil's current problems will give any place a run for its money.

Gripped by the worst recession since the 1930's, a mysterious Zika epidemic, a failing health system and a political crisis that is threatening the country's democracy, Brazil is paralyzed. Yesterday, the president was impeached, sparking mass protests around the country.

But my memories here planted in me a curiosity I've long wanted to water. After we left, I spent my summers trying to piece together a Brazilian identity. I'd try to pick up new slang from my cousins, mimic the style of Brazilian actresses I saw on TV, listen to sad Bossa Nova songs on repeat, hoping the lyrics would seep into me.

Still, I was always playing catch up. On prolonged trips the holes in my identity would inevitably shine through, and I'd return to the United States a stranger in both lands. As I moved around the world, nothing would make me happier than seeing a glimpse of Brazil abroad. The thick green hills of Mozambique, the empanadas in Chile, the windy roads in France, all looked like home.

It's time to see the real thing. I want to rediscover Brazil as an adult, dive into the good and the bad, and pack up my own bags when I think it's time to go.