I’m living in a small Brazilian city for a few weeks, and each day, like a young child, I learn a few more Portuguese words. Immersion in a foreign language and culture is disorienting, but also a revelation, because not being able to take normal things for granted means there’s a kind of return to wonder.
The little stuff of everyday life, like reading street signs, buying bread, going to the coffee shop for breakfast, or popping into the $2 shop for gift wrap, each become small, significant events.
It’s a gift to feel like a small child in a new world, no longer a jaded soul, because everyday objects and experiences are refreshed. The traffic is strange, market fruits unknown to me, the streets can be confusing, simple procedures need decoding, yet most people are smiling, patient and kind.
Shop assistants announce proudly, “She’s from Australia. She doesn’t speak Portuguese!” (I understand that part). Then we Google translate our way through a Q&A, elevating an other times mundane event into a meaningful and rewarding micro-connection. And every lovely, warm connection however small, is a balm to anxiety.
It reminds me of when my son was little and each ordinary day was teeming with firsts. I remember the discoveries and adventures to be found between the front door and the mailbox. It’s a little like that in a new culture, and I’m hoping I can hold on to this everyday awe and feel it still, when I’m back home.
Love to you,
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