When
Wladenia turns eighteen she
is able to vote, goes to driving
school and is simply ecstatic
with the fact that she is finally
an adult. Her happiness, which
is also mine and her mother’s,
has, in me, an additional effect:
a feeling of missing Lisbon
and other good memories of the
trip I made to Portugal with
Antonio Ramos, Dona Flora, Dulce
Sarmento, Joaquim Correia and
Jose Almeida. It’s that,
when we made that trip, in l966,
Wladenia had just been born,
and being the first female child
to be born in our family, she
was bringing such joy to our
home, that Olimpia wasn’t
feeling the least desire to
travel. She preferred to stay
at home and take advantage of
her sweet newborn baby. If I
wanted to go, I would have to
go by myself. Now, eighteen
years later, this trip comes
back to me in waves of wonderful
memories.
The
eighteen-hour flight was aboard
a four propeller Constellation.
At Recife, where we had to make
a connection, we met Fina and
Dr. Hermes and later at Salt
Island, nearing the western
coast of Africa, we met some
other Brazilians. Upon arriving
in Lisbon, in the late afternoon
we leave the plane, receiving
the smart slap of the cold early
Spring breeze. On leaving the
airplane, the entire Brazilian
caravan of the Elos Club joins
together on the runway for the
usual group arrival photograph,
with smiles on all faces and
warm welcomes from the Portuguese
people, friends and brothers.
Shortly after, we were conducted
through the customary hubbub
and noise of the international
lounges and the customs department
of the Portela de Sacavem, the
most geographically occidental
airport of the old world. More
pictures, more hugs, more welcomes…and
we’re on the way to downtown
Lisbon, the taxis glide through
modern neighborhoods such as
Moscavide and along spectacular
avenues like the Liberdade and
Brazil avenues. We also pass
by elegant squares like the
square of the Teatro, the Alegria,
the Rocio, and the Terreiro
do Paço, and through
streets like the Ouro and Prata
streets. In the distance, the
sentimental sight of the river
Tejo, the medieval fortress
of São João, the
Largo do Comercio, the Ladeira
do Chiado and the Alfama. When
the driver passes near the illuminated
fountains and restaurants, he
shows us a statue of the emperor
Dom Pedro, and proudly states:
There is our illustrious Dom
Pedro IV, your Dom Pedro I,
really one of the greatest heroes
of Portuguese History.
Dona
Flora and Antonio Ramos have
seen these pleasantries time
and time again, frequent visitors
that they are. Jose Almeida,
from the north, had only passed
through Lisbon once on his way
to Brazil. Our friend J.F. Rodrigues
Correia had studied in Coimbra
as a child and had been away
for forty years. Dulce Sarmento
and I were thrilled with the
beauty of the city for the first
time. No one can imagine what
a sweet and delicious sensation
it is to set foot in the motherland,
feel there our people’s
creed, our cradle, the origin
of the majority of our traditions,
a place that is anything…except
foreign. And, how well we Brazilians
are received in Portugal, in
Lisbon, In Santarem, in Belmont,
in Porto, anywhere!
That
night, my first walk…
strolling about that enchanting
world of wonders, of the Metro,
the Praca da Alegria, of Se,
of the cafes do Chiado, the
Subida das Ladeiras, our curious
window shopping at goldsmiths
and other superb shops. We visited
glorious illuminated fountains
of all colors and all sounds,
more beautiful than anywhere
else in the world. Through those
historical streets and squares
had also one day passed Eca
do Queros, Alexandre Herculano,
Antero de Quental, Florbela
Espanca…and Fernando Pessoa!
Along those ways had also passed
our most famous Brazilian, our
cherished, always revered Juscelino
Kubtschek. He was so honored
there that when he arrived anywhere,
be it the theater, cinemas or
cafés, everyone demonstrated
respect and friendship.
