The forecasted departure

One year. I’ve been in Belgium for one year. Today is the anniversary of my arrival here. I remember the day I took the flight: still at home, putting the last things in my suitcases, thinking that I was really grown-up because I hadn’t shared a single tear. Then I fought with my mother for a stupid reason that I can’t even remember anymore and that was the catalyst: in a completely unexpected way, I sat down on the floor and cried like a child. Continue reading “The forecasted departure”

The unexpected nature of patriotic love

My relationship with Belgium has always been ambiguous. Some of the most difficult parts of my life happened before I was six, while living there. But then again, some pretty rough episodes came during the subsequent 17 years, while I was in Brazil; I just never thought about blaming the South American country. But I did blame Belgium, maybe because that was what my mother did. Even though I had this mixed feeling of pride for being born in a European country because it made me different from most Brazilians, I always told whoever wanted to listen that I would never go there without a return ticket. Continue reading “The unexpected nature of patriotic love”