Saudade, que saudade...
chanced upon a poetic little corner of 'Prtugal' here in Blogland the other day, something along the lines of Nunca te disse (I never told you) - enough to bring tears to my rheumy Lusitan-lacking eyes! To think that it's only a mere 50 years ago that I learned the lingo in a little state school in Ipanema, and I can still read most of Nunca te disse as if I'd never left in the mid-fifties. I amzed myself...

Brazil had a tolerable dictator then (Getulio Vargas), the natives were friendly and tolerant of interlopers - I remember standing with my turma (gang) at a corner of Rua Barrao da Torre one day, one of the guys was enjoying an icecream cone, a further youngster ambled up into the circle and was greeted with the icecream cone held out toward him with the words "Estas servido?" (Have you been served, literally, but more in the sense of come and share...) This to me still typifies the Brazilian jeito (knack of doing things, generously).

On the other hand, there were only some 60 million Brazilians then, half as many as today, and the dictatorship has become more democratic, I mean everyone including of course the police seem to have a go nowadays...

Have never been back, but when I see the then to a 15-year-old pittoresque favelas now avalanching around the lagoa down to nearly Barrao da Torre, two streets away from the beach, I don't recognise my youthful paradise anymore. Still, the saudade persists. Obrigado pela memoria (thanks for the memory)...