Skip to main content

DE TANTO LEVAR - FRECHADA DO TEU OLHAR

Having taken lunch at the shopping today, I am doing what I often do when alone in that cathedral of consumerism that Brazilians have embraced with typical gusto – I am silently observing teenage girls.

Before I am accused of being oh so British, I must clarify that my interest in the young delights is purely anthropological. I am a student of the human condition in all its beauty and tragedy, so anyone who confuses me with a perv can frankly bugger off.

I am still bemused and intrigued by how adolescents in this country manage to be such generally fine, warm human beings. A healthy fifteen-year-old boy in a recent class moved not a hair when his mother, who studies with him, spontaneously grabbed him in a prolonged, affectionate embrace.

Do that in Anglo-Saxon environments and you risk an outbreak of arson. While studying in Italy I met a New Yorker whose teenage brother had set fire to their penthouse apartment after a tiff with his parents, then had had the gall to sulk and whine about the family having to go to restaurants every mealtime for several months due to the smoke damage.

Attractive Brazilian teenage girls (and there are a lot of them) are nice people too. Dare to snatch a glance of les belles du jour at English secondary schools and you’re likely to be met with a less than coquettish, “What are you staring at?” Brazilian teens will look you straight back in the eye with an approachable “come on then, let’s converse” demeanor.

Teenage boys everywhere are largely clueless. Those contemporaries of mine socially advanced enough to engage girls in flirtatious mating rites largely did so by grunting at them, kicking them playfully in the shins and being rude to them. Occasionally picking a fight with one of the class eccentrics was also a popular ruse to entice the laydies, with sometimes bafflingly successful results. I suspect it’s much the same nowadays, only with the addition of hoods.

Brazilian lads are little better, all baseball caps, Bermuda shorts and fancy trainers, but I’m sure they have much greater success than their northern contemporaries. Rather than getting a mate to tell the object of their affection’s mate that they fancy them, Brazilian youths just secure eye contact and disengage the handbrake with admirable aplomb.

I can remember endless grey winters in Bournemouth being lit up by gaggles of babbling, sensuous South Americans, full of the fire of life and being pathologically friendly to everybody.

Maybe it all has something to do with the tactile nature of Brazilian social congress. At a gathering of people, it is considered impolite not to go round shaking hands with every last man and kissing and hugging every last woman, even if you don’t know them from Adão/Eva. This immediately creates a certain intimacy.

Witnessing males of all ages hugging is also not rare, and is interpreted as a healthy display of respect and affection. Back home, it can only be done after scoring a try or in a drunken attempt to express deeply repressed yearnings for human warmth and a saner life than the one we are currently dragging ourselves through.

I had better stop now. There is a security guard watching me.

Comments

Ms Scarlet said…
Do you remember writing this:
Scarlet, I am constantly impressed by how you manage to get to distill everything down to a transparent need for human contact.
Hmmmm????? I must be a bit Brazilian....
Sx
17 January 2009 at 13:20
No Good Boyo said…
Being comfortable in one's own skin is a skill we have yet to master in Britain, unlike these Brazilians.

But I suppose it's better than getting too comfortable in someone else's skin. Especially if you've tanned and tailored it yourself.
17 January 2009 at 23:05
Gadjo Dilo said…
Sounds lovely, MC. It's a bit the same here: in theory you can kiss and hug all sorts of people and nobody will bat an eyelid, but it's safest to do this with old people as the youngsters are now all trying to be Anglo-Saxons.
18 January 2009 at 04:59
Gyppo Byard said…
Brazil - and I say this purely on the basis of your descriptions without having ben there myself - sounds much more typical of the world, especially in its warmer parts. The more one travels, the more one is convinced that the Anglo-Saxon reputation for being surly and uptight looks justified in the eyes of mist of the world, even if it isn't entirely fair.
18 January 2009 at 08:17
M C Ward said…
Scarlet, I've had my suspicions.

Boyo wise, if slightly unnerving, words.

Gadj, Hollywood's doing its best to erode this cultural gem, and make hating your parents appear normal. Brazil resists!

Gyppo, it's true, the general image of the Brit is a cold, serious suit. I hug everyone, persistently quip and dress down in an attempt to dispel this stereotype.
20 January 2009 at 10:55
The TEFL Tradesman said…
Well, well - "the Anglo-Saxon reputation for being surly and uptight looks justified".

Absolutely - it has taken us years to perfect this persona, character, call it what you like, and it should not be disposed of lightly. The Russian are coming close, but their willing acceptance of gratuitous violence will never serve to endear them to anybody.

Remember - we hold the patent!!
20 January 2009 at 16:30
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

NO MORE A-CUSSIN'

In an effort to rid himself of the habit of using foul language at the slightest provocation , a Facebook chum recently asked for suggestions for harmless expressions he could use in front of his Gran and her bingo clique during moments of high stress, astonishment and/or extreme disappointment. I weighed in with, " Crikey! " and, " Great Scott! " Please feel free to add your suggestions, and help to make the world a tiny bit less like a trucker's stopover in Eindhoven .
12 comments
Read more

6 RANDOM THINGS ABOUT WARDY

The splendid Gyppo Byard has kindly requested that I write six random things about myself. I note that the adjective "interesting" didn't feature, thankfully, so here goes: According to my late father's genealogical rummaging, I am (very) distantly related to Sir Francis Drake (or Sir Walter Raleigh , I forget which); I've suffered two bouts of severe clinical depression (the last 17 years ago) and used to suffer panic attacks. I regained my fragile sanity without recourse to professional help or drugs, partly by reading Free to Be Human by David Edwards, a personal friend with whom I have shared many a beery night over the years. In fact, it may have been the beery nights that cured me, who knows?; When I was a baby I used to hum songs from the hit parade in my cot, way before I could talk, leading my father to predict that I was some kind of musical genius . Later attempts to learn the violin at primary school proved his optimism spectacularly unfounded ; De...
16 comments
Read more

FOOLING WITH SCHOOLING

One of the commonest figures to be found within TEFL is the aspiring administrator. This is a teacher who, often drained by years of repetitive, poorly remunerated clowning around in the classroom, seeks a position managing other teachers, such as Director of Studies (aptly and attractively known as "Doss"), from which they can sit in an imaginary TEFL director’s chair smoking a cigar, bellowing, “CUT!” and enjoying not having to pull a linguistic rabbit out of a hat twelve times a day, five days a week. I include myself within this TEFL subgenre, although my past experiences of administration have left me with an odd yearning to get back into the classroom and be king of my own modest sandcastle. In 2005, whilst I was working in HR at a local factory, my Brazilian friend Bert and I decided to start our own school. I had recently managed to wriggle out of a honey trap I’d set for myself, when I offered to give a free English course to my colleagues in the factory’s Training a...
19 comments
Read more