Brazil: The Green and Yellow Brick Road to Discovering Myself
Personal Essay: May 2017
From the moment I saw The Wizard of Oz at the young age of three, I dreamed of working in the entertainment industry (and kind of never stopped talking about it), so my loved ones were quite surprised when I made the decision to leave Los Angeles and move to Rio de Janeiro. My dad imitated the three-year-old me, “What about The Wizadaboz?” This was his way of encouraging me to stick it out in Lala land, and an attempt to save his daughter from the dangers he imaged were waiting for her south of the border. It was a tough decision, but I packed up my life and moved to Rio.
Moving to a country where I didn’t speak the language reverted me to a childlike state. I lost my ability to effortlessly communicate, to tell stories, and worst of all, to be funny. Gestures and noises became a part of my day-to-day. At lunch with some Brazilian friends, I realized the extent of my regression. I had recently completed the ‘body parts’ level on my Portuguese language app, and I accidentally asked someone to pass the ‘chin’ instead of the ‘cheese’ (chin is ‘queixo’, cheese is ‘queijo’). The girls swooned, “Her accent is so cute!” They pointed to body parts, “Do you know how to say this?” “Elbow,” I responded in Portuguese as they squealed in delight. Afterwards, my husband was happy I got along with the girls, but I began to bawl, “They think I’m a baby!” I used to be the quick-witted, smart girl and I didn’t like this Benjamin Button version of myself. The next day, I signed up for Portuguese classes at two different schools, totaling twenty-five hours per week. I was determined to be smart and funny in Portuguese.
I began to eat, sleep, and breathe Portuguese. I spent hours thinking of jokes and tried them out in class. The translation would rarely work, and my punch lines would be met with the sound of crickets. I signed up for private classes and my teacher helped me understand Portuguese puns. Understanding humor in a second language is near impossible.
The school had daily activities to help learn outside of the classroom and I delved into Brazilian culture in a way I never could have alone. We played futevolley on the beach, which is like volleyball, except you use your legs and head. I took samba classes and watched Brazilian movies. We visited underprivileged kids and went on hikes. It was a hands-on learning experience.
Through another student, I learned of a comedy club that did stand up in English. I was surprised to find that most of the comedians were Brazilians trying to hone their craft in English. I’d always wanted to do stand up in LA but never had the courage. This inspired me. If Brazilians could get on stage and entertain a bunch of gringos in their second language, I could try in my native tongue. That night, I committed to perform in two weeks.
Of all the material I prepared, the biggest laugh came from my bit about a gringo’s experience living in Rio. It’s comedy gold. The chin/cheese mix up was nothing compared to other mistakes I made throughout the years: Coconut/Poop, Forehead/Tits. Though these words don’t sound similar in English, they are easily mistaken in Portuguese. So yes, I once told a chef her poop pudding was amazing, and I declared to my futevolley coach that my tits hurt after hitting the ball with my head.
Coincidentally, the night I performed my ‘poop pudding’ bit, a Brazilian producer was in the audience. She approached me and was looking for an American comedy writer who spoke Portuguese and understood the carioca quirks (a carioca is someone from Rio). Shortly after, I was hired to develop a Brazilian comedy for her company.
Rio has given me a unique compilation of experiences. I’ve sambaed in the streets, taught English to children from the slums, hiked to the Christ statue, been robbed, learned a new language, found the courage to do stand up, but most of all, I’ve been embraced by a culture of people who are warm and encouraging to this little white girl who got Brazilian fever and claimed Rio as her home.
Sometimes you must take a step away from your dream to understand it. Brazil has been my Wizard of Oz. It brought color to my life. It was the green and yellow brick road that led me out of fear and into hope. After four years, I’m forever a different Krystee. I’ve changed from the inside out. Brazil has made me more humble, brave, compassionate and worldly. I’m proud when Brazilians call me a carioca — I worked hard to gain that title.
