When
Wladenia turns eighteen she is able to vote,
goes to driving school and is simply ecstatic
with the fact that she is finally an adult.
Her happiness, which is also mine and her
mother’s, has, in me, an additional
effect: a feeling of missing Lisbon and other
good memories of the trip I made to Portugal
with Antonio Ramos, Dona Flora, Dulce Sarmento,
Joaquim Correia and Jose Almeida. It’s
that, when we made that trip, in l966, Wladenia
had just been born, and being the first female
child to be born in our family, she was bringing
such joy to our home, that Olimpia wasn’t
feeling the least desire to travel. She preferred
to stay at home and take advantage of her
sweet newborn baby. If I wanted to go, I would
have to go by myself. Now, eighteen years
later, this trip comes back to me in waves
of wonderful memories.
The
eighteen-hour flight was aboard a four propeller
Constellation. At Recife, where we had to
make a connection, we met Fina and Dr. Hermes
and later at Salt Island, nearing the western
coast of Africa, we met some other Brazilians.
Upon arriving in Lisbon, in the late afternoon
we leave the plane, receiving the smart slap
of the cold early Spring breeze. On leaving
the airplane, the entire Brazilian caravan
of the Elos Club joins together on the runway
for the usual group arrival photograph, with
smiles on all faces and warm welcomes from
the Portuguese people, friends and brothers.
Shortly after, we were conducted through the
customary hubbub and noise of the international
lounges and the customs department of the
Portela de Sacavem, the most geographically
occidental airport of the old world. More
pictures, more hugs, more welcomes…and
we’re on the way to downtown Lisbon,
the taxis glide through modern neighborhoods
such as Moscavide and along spectacular avenues
like the Liberdade and Brazil avenues. We
also pass by elegant squares like the square
of the Teatro, the Alegria, the Rocio, and
the Terreiro do Paço, and through streets
like the Ouro and Prata streets. In the distance,
the sentimental sight of the river Tejo, the
medieval fortress of São João,
the Largo do Comercio, the Ladeira do Chiado
and the Alfama. When the driver passes near
the illuminated fountains and restaurants,
he shows us a statue of the emperor Dom Pedro,
and proudly states: There is our illustrious
Dom Pedro IV, your Dom Pedro I, really one
of the greatest heroes of Portuguese History.
Dona
Flora and Antonio Ramos have seen these pleasantries
time and time again, frequent visitors that
they are. Jose Almeida, from the north, had
only passed through Lisbon once on his way
to Brazil. Our friend J.F. Rodrigues Correia
had studied in Coimbra as a child and had
been away for forty years. Dulce Sarmento
and I were thrilled with the beauty of the
city for the first time. No one can imagine
what a sweet and delicious sensation it is
to set foot in the motherland, feel there
our people’s creed, our cradle, the
origin of the majority of our traditions,
a place that is anything…except foreign.
And, how well we Brazilians are received in
Portugal, in Lisbon, In Santarem, in Belmont,
in Porto, anywhere!
That
night, my first walk… strolling about
that enchanting world of wonders, of the Metro,
the Praca da Alegria, of Se, of the cafes
do Chiado, the Subida das Ladeiras, our curious
window shopping at goldsmiths and other superb
shops. We visited glorious illuminated fountains
of all colors and all sounds, more beautiful
than anywhere else in the world. Through those
historical streets and squares had also one
day passed Eca do Queros, Alexandre Herculano,
Antero de Quental, Florbela Espanca…and
Fernando Pessoa! Along those ways had also
passed our most famous Brazilian, our cherished,
always revered Juscelino Kubtschek. He was
so honored there that when he arrived anywhere,
be it the theater, cinemas or cafés,
everyone demonstrated respect and friendship.
