BRAZIL

I often share a running joke, especially with my Latin friends: that I am somewhat Brazilian — not really Québécois or Canadian.

My connection to that culture feels almost irrational. It began long before I ever set foot in the country. The first time I heard the unusual melodies of bossa nova — the way they sing, the sensuality, the joy, the softness — something resonated deeply within me. There is sometimes a melancholy they call saudade, yet to me it feels very different from other forms of melancholy, such as tango or certain European traditions. Brazilian saudade moves me without making me truly sad. It connects me to something tender and profound without stripping away the joy.

I was once working with an intellectual who said while I was listening to bazilian music in a office, that he couldn’t get into that music cause he was suspicious of their outpouring of joy.. he didn’t believe them..  that is the difference. I have never doubted it. I have seen it in my own eyes in the hills of Rio. Being in a resto-bar at the beginning of the night, someone had told me to go there to hear great music.. I arrived there before everybody else — there was absolutely no vibe. Ugly plastic tables and chairs, buffet food. Then a few people began sitting around one table, some holding small percussion instruments. As more people arrived, they gathered around that table and started to play. Within an hour, there were several circles forming around it — beautiful faces with all the palette of skin colors in the world, singing together with open hearts and wide smiles.

It was one of the most beautiful sights of my whole life — an irresistible joy in sharing a fleeting moment through melody, richness, and connection.

There is an extraordinary amount of heart in Brazil — poetry, awareness, and human connection. It feels unlike any other country I have known. When a few Brazilians are present in a room, they somehow soften and animate the dynamics of the group. They know how to celebrate and move with ease, without becoming intrusive, and they remain quietly attentive to their surroundings — a sensitivity shaped by the realities of life there. Of course, I am generalizing, but the spirit of what I mean remains true.

I took batucada classes because the idea of being inside a percussive marching band — not made for war but for celebration — was irresistible to me as a lover of rhythm. I studied capoeira in my thirties, and eventually I experienced ayahuasca. A year later, I found myself in Brazil, immersing myself in that shamanic world with a gospel twist — an experience that changed my life in lasting ways.

According to my DNA results, I carry about seven percent Portuguese ancestry — enough, perhaps, to support my playful claim of being somewhat legit Brazilian wouldn’t you agree?

I felt that sense of familiarity the moment I boarded my first flight to Rio. Watching the flight attendants, I had the distinct feeling that these were my people. I have always felt deeply recognized there, and Brazil remains the country I have returned to more than any other.