Why in the name of all that is holy would Brazilians make their way to the state of Nebraska? Porque? No entiendo.
I am told that Brazil is a beautiful country full of beautiful people and customs. Mi Linda is half-Brazilian and it is mi opinion that she represents her half of herself with perfection. Her other half, whatever mix of European blood it is, thanks everything that is holy that they were able to say they now have a Brazilian in their midst.
Why am I speaking about Brazil and Nebraska? Bueno, this last weekend I had embarked on a trip to meet mi Linda’s familia. Her half Brazilian familia, who happen to live in Nebraska. I know, I didn’t know it was a state either…..
We took an airplane to Lincoln, a city, I imagine, was named after the American President who abolished slavery. In mi mind, you name a city after a man like this, you’re going to see a true melting pot of a city. Bueno, how do I put this without sounding crude? The last time I saw more blonde hair and blue eyes was the time that Miguel’s direct TV was stuck on a Swedish TV channel. Oh, yes, they all wore red. Almost 80% of the people in this strange place wore red t-shirts with the picture of corn. They must be very proud to show what they like to eat. No entiendo.
Ok, keep your head up El Guapo. If a Brazilian family thought that it was a good place to raise children, then it can’t be that bad. They lived in a city called Grand Island. Now, I wasn’t aware of Nebraska being a real state in the first place, but it further amazed me that there was an island of a city in the middle of the United States. I wondered what the waters surrounding this island city would be like…
Her father, a gringo, met us at airport with his 6’5” frame and a green hat with a picture of a deer named John. He did not have a mustache. This surprised me because he was somehow able to attract a Brazilian woman. Muy interesante.
You could see that mi Linda was her daddy’s little girl and that she could do no wrong by him. It was nice to see this relationship, but I still wondered how he was able to attract a Brazilian without a mustache.
“So, El Guapo, I understand you’re Guatemalan.”
“How’s your Portuguese coming?”
Slowly but surely.
“Don’t worry buddy, I still don’t have it down after almost 30 years.”
That makes me feel much better sir.
Is being called "buddy" a good thing or a bad thing? I wanted to call Miguel so that he could help me out with this one, but I couldn't.
I really wanted to ask him how he was able to attract a Brazilian woman without a mustache and I couldn’t stop thinking about this. I believe I suffered what the gringo people call a “panic attack” and mi madre calls “overreacting” when I couldn’t stop thinking about this.
Instead of asking him this most pressing question, I decided to look out of the window. When Dios made this land, it was during a moment of lost inspiration. I tell you, I have never seen a land so devoid of originality in mi vida. It was simply flat. All that was around was corn, corn, corn, and then a family of Mexicans drove by in their truck.
How did I know they were Mexican? Well, I was told that there were some Latinos in Nebraska, but what gave it away was the large Mexican flag sticker plastered perfectly on their truck window. Chicano! Represent, Represent.
Still, how could there be an island city in between all of this corn? How could a man attract a Brazilian woman without a mustache? Were there any Guatemalans in this “state”? Why does everybody wear red?
These were questions that I would soon have answered….