||[Aug. 7th, 2005|10:01 pm]
|||||Radiohead - Karma Police||]|
I just came back from the airport - my grandpa's brother and his daughter came from Portugal for a two week stay in Canada. We all went as one big happy extended family to go greet them, and I'm so glad I went. My grandpa was giddy! (Well - as giddy as an old Portuguese man could be.) My grandma turns to me and goes, "Your grandfather is really excited." So I knew it was going to be a huge deal, simply because I've never seen my grandpa excited over anything except:
3.) Mangoes at a good price.
They have not seen one another for twenty years. At the gate, we were all waiting, watching. No pictures had been exchanged. Nobody knew how the other had aged. And all of a sudden, this vibrant woman walks through the glass arrival doors and hollers. Everybody else hollers. It's one big hollering session! This is my cousin Gorete. She is 51, a grandma, and quite possibly the coolest woman I have ever seen. She's got these big clear glasses with silver accents, is wearing cuffed jean capris and have a Louis Vuitton luggage case. Her hair is cut short with red highlights. Everybody is talking, my grandpa is hugging her, and then shaking hands with his brother. Technically, he's my great uncle. Tiu Alvrez. They served pizza on the plane. He hates pizza. So does my grandpa! We're off to a great start!
They don't speak any English, and I don't speak any Portuguese, but we're using translators (my mom is very helpful.) Alvrez calls me "shorty." Everyone is smiling, and we make our way out of the terminal, where he lights up a cigarette. The man smokes three packs a day - I don't know how he made it through the nine hour flight. You can tell they are brothers.
And all through the night, I'm wondering why didn't they make me learn how to speak Portuguese? Why, instead of going to kindergym or swimming lessons, didn't I end up in the basement of some old church learning this language?