Precerpt from In with the East Wind: A Mary Poppins Kind of Life - Brazil: Campinas
Campinas
Campinas was a place that would become larger than life for
me, though nothing about it announced that at first glance. On the surface, it
was simply a prosperous inland Brazilian city—warm, sprawling, modern in some
places and worn in others, with jacaranda trees spilling purple blossoms onto
wide avenues, and a rhythm that felt both industrious and relaxed. It was a
university town, a tech hub, an agricultural center, and a place where people
lingered over coffee as if time were elastic. I arrived expecting an
assignment. I left with a story.
The flight from Los Angeles to São Paulo was uneventful in
the best possible way—comfortable, quiet, and long enough to settle into the
strange suspension of international travel. I was in the middle cabin, up
front, exit row, aisle seat B, with more legroom than I deserved. In seat A, by
the window, was a gentle, pleasant conversationalist who introduced himself as
Eduardo Pereira. The hours gave us time to talk, and Eduardo—soft‑spoken, warm,
and a proud dad—told me about his eight‑year‑old daughter, Elizabeth, the light
of his life.
As fortune would have it (and fortune, in my life, often
did), Eduardo lived in Campinas. When he learned that Campinas was my
destination, he immediately handed me his business card and home phone number.
“Call when you have time,” he said. “Come for dinner.”
We landed early on a Sunday afternoon. Eduardo headed to the
parking garage for his car, and I went to the post‑customs waiting area to meet
the U.S. Embassy driver who was supposed to take me to Campinas.
I waited. And waited. And waited.
Too much time passed. Something was wrong.
I called the U.S. duty officer. No one had been assigned to
pick me up, he said. He had no way to reach the Embassy’s language office on a
Sunday. So, there I was—luggage in hand, classes to be taught the next day, and
no idea how to get to a city an hour away.
I approached a United Airlines ticket agent, a kind woman
with the calm competence of someone who has solved many travelers’ crises. She
knew exactly what to do. There was a bus to Campinas, she said, and she told me
where to find it.
I exchanged money—something I had not planned to do
immediately, but thankfully the exchange office was open—and went in search of
the bus stop. After only a short wait, the bus arrived.
The ride to Campinas
The trip took about an hour, and it was unexpectedly
beautiful. The highway curved through rolling green countryside, past sugarcane
fields and red‑earth farmland. Occasional clusters of houses appeared—tile
roofs, laundry fluttering, children playing barefoot in dusty yards. The sky
was enormous, a deep Brazilian blue that made everything below it seem sharper.
As we approached Campinas, the landscape shifted: more buildings, more traffic,
more color. Vendors at roadside stands sold coconuts and pastel pastries.
Motorbikes darted between cars with the confidence of locals who had mastered
the choreography.
When the bus pulled into the Campinas station, I stepped off
and realized something obvious and alarming: I had no idea where my hotel was. The
Embassy driver was supposed to take me there. I had never asked for the name.
I stood there thinking, and then reached into my pocket.
Eduardo’s card. My golden ticket. He would be home by now.
I called.“Eddie, this is Betty. You probably didn’t expect a
call so soon, but I am actually abandoned here.” I explained the situation.
“Stay where you are,” he said. “I’ll be right there. And you
can have that dinner with us tonight.”
And so, I did. At his home, I met his wife and his little
Elizabeth, who drew me a picture of a rainbow and signed it with great
seriousness.
After dinner, dessert, and warm conversation, Eddie
suggested we call the institute where I was scheduled to be on the platform at
8:00 a.m. the next morning. Miraculously, the institute had an answering
machine with instructions to call Henry, the director, during off‑hours. Eddie
reached him, got the name of my hotel, and drove me there himself.
Teaching in Campinas
The next morning at 7:45, Henry arrived to take me to the
institute. I spent the next couple of weeks teaching a remarkable group of
English teachers—bright, articulate, and eager to refine their skills for the
Cambridge A exams, the ones that approach near‑native proficiency. We debated,
we analyzed, we laughed. We had cross‑cultural discussions that were as
enlightening as they were entertaining.
At the time, the U.S. Senate was in an uproar over the Bill
Clinton–Monica Lewinsky scandal. The Brazilians were baffled.
“Why are Americans so upset?” they asked. “We would be proud
to know our leader was virile.”
Their sincerity was disarming. Their cultural lens was
different. And that was exactly why I loved teaching abroad.
A Return of Fortune
Six weeks after I returned home, I received a call from
Eddie. He was in Palo Alto, just 45 minutes from me. He would be working there
for a couple of months. He had had no idea, back in Campinas, that he would
soon be in my part of the world.
We arranged a day for me to show him the central coast. And
as luck would have it (by then we suspected that “luck” had a name), when I
brought him to San Juan Bautista, the Easter parade was in full swing—a ragtag
procession of horses, deputy sheriff’s cars, local scouts, and a bright red
fire engine, with someone dutifully following the horses with a pooper scooper.
Not exactly the Macy’s parade. But Eddie was delighted. It was real rural
America, something he would never otherwise have seen. He took a zillion
pictures—of the parade, of San Juan Bautista, of the two of us—and later sent
them to me so I wouldn’t forget him.
How could I forget him? Thirty years later, Elizabeth’s
rainbow is still on my refrigerator door.
Volume 1: ABC Lands
by Dr. Betty Lou Leaver
For more posts about and from this book, click HERE.
For more posts by and about Betty Lou Leaver, click HERE.
has gained mass recognition for releasing highly acclaimed books of varying genres
that are distributed internationally. Check us out on Wikitia.
To purchase copies of any MSI Press book at 25% discount,
use code FF25 at MSI Press webstore.
Want to read an MSI Press book and not have to pay for it?
(1) Ask your local library to purchase and shelve it.
(2) Ask us for a review copy; we love to have our books reviewed.
VISIT OUR WEBSITE TO LEARN MORE ABOUT ALL OUR AUTHORS AND TITLES.
Sign up for the MSI Press LLC monthly newsletter: get inside information before others see it and access to additional book content(recent releases, sales/discounts, awards, reviews, Amazon top 100 list, links to precerpts/excerpts, author advice, and more)Check out recent issues.
Turned away by other publishers because you are a first-time author and/or do not have a strong platform yet? If you have a strong manuscript, San Juan Books, our hybrid publishing division, may be able to help. Ask us. Check out more information at www.msipress.com.
Planning on self-publishing and don't know where to start? Our author au pair services will mentor you through the process. See what we can do for your at www.msipress.com.
Interested in receiving a free copy of this or any MSI Press LLC book in exchange for reviewing a current or forthcoming MSI Press LLC book? Contact editor@msipress.com.
Want an author-signed copy of this book? Purchase the book at 25% discount (use coupon code FF25) and concurrently send a written request to orders@msipress.com.Julia Aziz, signing her book, Lessons of Labor, at an event at Book People in Austin, Texas.
Want to communicate with one of our authors? You can! Find their contact information on our Authors' Pages.Steven Greenebaum, author of award-winning books, An Afternoon's Discussion and One Family: Indivisible, talking to a reader at Barnes & Noble in Gilroy, California.MSI Press is ranked among the top publishers in California.
Check out our rankings -- and more -- HERE.
Comments
Post a Comment