I’d never really put much thought into Brazil before. Joao Abbade, or as he liked to call himself (much to my relief), Pedro, was slightly brusque in his dealings with me via email, reducing all of his sentences a la Hemingway to “That is ok,” or “Works,” or something of the sort. This really worried me: I wondered if I’d stumbled into an ESL student that didn’t want to speak English. Or worse, didn’t want to speak.
I walked into the TCU Barnes and Noble early, setting up my computer and trying to look like I was waiting for someone. Within a matter of minutes a slight, skittish-seeming guy sat down next to me. His eyes were gigantic, and it appeared to me as though he was expecting to meet someone there as well. I leaned in.
“Are you Pedro?” I asked, leaning forward.
“Yeah, are you Luke?” he replied, the faintest ghost of a J appearing before the “you”. I smiled and said yes.
As we shook hands I said “Boa tarde,” or “Good afternoon” in Portuguese. Pedro looked taken aback and I explained to him that I felt as though if he were trying to learn my language and speak with me I should at least learn a little bit of his. He seemed a lot more relaxed after that.
We started digging in on the basics. Who he was, where he was from, what he wanted to do. I found out he was really into production engineering, and that was what he wanted to study at college back home in Uberaba. We talked a bit over the essence of mathematics, and how I was terrible at it. He thought that was hilarious.
I really wanted to focus on the superficialities – just the little trivial things about him that made Pedro into Pedro. He seemed to want to know the same things about me. However it became clear that both of us had really transitory attention spans, similar to that of a small rodent. On speed. That was currently drowning in Red Bull.
I asked him what music he listened to, and he said “All,” pretty quickly, like he wanted to move on. He asked me the same question, and I told him about all the things I was involved in: that I played piano, French horn, and drums; that I’m currently in the TCU men’s choir (Frog Corps); that I’m in a music fraternity as well. He mentioned that his brother played guitar as well. We spoke a little bit more about that.
Then my friend Kyle walked up and completely screwed up the flow of our conversation. I hadn’t seen him except for maybe twice over the past full year, and he was a guy I shared several incredible experiences with. Nothing earth-shattering, but there’s no way I’ll forget him.
I introduced him to Pedro and we made lunch plans for the following week, while Pedro sat awkwardly. I apologized to him in Portuguese while Kyle and I worked out a time to eat, and then I returned to Pedro.
He started talking about sports, and the difference between American attitudes towards athletics and Brazilian attitudes. He said that the big three sports in Brazil are soccer, basketball, and mixed martial arts. Kyle butted in while I ground my teeth good-naturedly and said something about jujitsu that went over even my head. Pedro looked confused, and I quickly changed the subject again.
Pedro and I started talking about family and languages. He said if you spoke English in Brazil, that used to mean you were way ahead of the game, but now it’s just another requirement. He told me about his cousin, who’s currently studying abroad in France. I mentioned I was traveling to Japan in the summer. He seemed genuinely interested in that.
And therein lies my main lesson from our first conversation. He and I are remarkably similar in our abandonment points. What I mean by that is that he left his parents to live in America with his aunt and uncle so that he could understand English better before returning to Brazil. I left my parents to understand how to write better before I went out into the real world. When I go to Japan this summer I’ll have the same experience he’s having now – of complete and total immersion in a language I’ve only used in the classroom.
There’s a feeling of infancy in not knowing a language, and that’s what made the connection between Pedro and I so special – we both understood the vulnerability it put us in. I knew I had to try hard to convince him that I was empathetic about his situation.
My final question to Pedro was to ask him what he wanted most to learn to do in English. He responded that he didn’t know expressions, and that I should use them whenever I can so he can try to understand. I enthusiastically agreed, and he asked me to give him an example.
I froze for a few seconds. And then I tried breaking down the phrase “to make a mountain out of a molehill.”
I have had very few challenges in my life as difficult as that.
It must have taken thirty minutes. Whether it was confusing “mountain” for “an amount” or asking what a molehill was, or even trying to simplify it by saying “it’s making a big deal of something that isn’t that big of a deal,” only for him to respond with, “What is…deal?”
After what seemed like an eternity he finally got it. I thanked my stars and then apologized to him for leaving but I had a meeting to get to. He thanked me for my time and we scheduled another meeting for next week. Same day, same time, same place.
I can’t wait to meet up with him again. Teach him things about the English language that he didn’t know existed. I will be his arbiter, his mediator between the worlds of the classroom and the everyday American occurrences.
There’s no way I could be more excited.
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