I’ve been to Brazil for a couple of days and everytime I go there, I come back with this feeling of strangement. Rio is not my city anymore. I recognize most of the places, a lot of the faces, but the city is becoming more and more distant from me. Maybe it’s because I’ve changed, maybe it’s because the city itself changed as well. The point is I don’t like it any more than I liked it before.
So why do I go there? Well, there’s my father, my second mother (stepmother is such a horrible word, isn’t it?), my brothers and sisters, nephews and nieces, and friends. And the warmth I get from them I’ll never get from anyone else, anywhere else. The differences in culture are then very clear to be seen.
And there’s one other very weird thing: I’ll never get used to people talking Portuguese all over me again. I can cope with meetings and parties, but on the streets? Weird stuff… 
