Eu sou Brasileiro (I am a Brazilian)

A few days ago Nádya and I were walking to the nearest bus stop, and as we turned a corner a man looked right at me and said to his companions “Is that Rodrigo? Rodrigo... RODRIGO!”

We just kept walking, but later I asked my wife if she knew about whom he was speaking. Evidently Rodrigo is not only a vendor of french fries around the downtown area, but he is the son of a past mayor. We got a good laugh out of that. (I saw him at the mall later, and we do look similar, I suppose, but we could not be mistaken for brothers or anything.)

I have a number of experiences under my proverbial belt that are similar in circumstance, though not in magnitude. People will ask me questions on the street in Portuguese, and not expect me to reply that I don't understand because I don't know much Portuguese. I have also been told that I look like someone who might be from the south of Brazil, instead of an American.
This is to my advantage. I blend in more on the street, and don't look like a “tourist.” The crime here can be pretty bad at times, and the tourist-types can be easy targets.

It brings a twinge of excitement to think that one can blend in to an entirely different culture and country. I don't claim to know a lot of Portuguese, but I do speak a little, and understand more than some people wish I did sometimes (shhh!).
That does not mean that I do not miss home, though. I am very much looking forward to getting home as soon as we can, but in the meantime, I am fitting in here pretty well.

[Edit—Yes, Phil, you are correct. I had someone look at it to proofread too!! (Title was Eu só Brasileiro)]

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