Journalled on Monday, 14 August 2023 | Flamengo, Rio de Janeiro: 21 degrees, cool, overcast and rainy.

It is Monday, and I feel mixed emotions.

I had a great weekend, solving several problems at once. It was also Father’s Day, and my daughter Jessica gave me a much-needed pair of Bermuda shorts. However, something caught my attention during breakfast on Father’s Day, when Yasmin, Jessica, Mario, and I were all together, one of our conversations set off an alarm bell in my head.

We were discussing music. Jessica and Mario had attended a Brazilian music festival at Marina do Gloria the night before. The event featured performances by well-known Brazilian artists and composers, including Gilberto Gil and Adriana Calcanhoto.

A banquet of Brazilian music for connoisseurs, Brazilians, and fans worldwide.

They said the show was outstanding. Marina do Gloria is a special place; I love going there. The view of the city centre and Sugarloaf from the Marina makes the place and its position particularly special. They also mentioned that they only got home at 4 a.m., so the night was perfect.

I asked Jessica whether she likes, enjoys, or follows any music or bands from outside Brazil. She said, “No, Dad. I mainly prefer Brazilian music. Mario is the one who likes international music.” At the time, I did not pay much attention to it. But soon after, a red flag began to rise in my mind.

Something so subtle and non-offensive began to trigger an avalanche of thoughts from the past, matching up past situations, conversations, etc., that were insignificant at the time or not so clear, but now seem clearer.

Why?

During my 30-plus years in Brazil, I have encountered both welcoming and prejudiced attitudes as a foreigner, or “gringo”. There is a common misconception that all foreigners are universally well-received in Brazil, but my experiences have shown this is not always true.

The Brazilian people are good and kind and can be very hospitable. However, there are exceptions, and there is a lot of hypocrisy among them. They can be extremely polarised politically, reinforcing stereotypes about individuals and nationalities that have nothing to do with the person themselves.

When I first arrived in Brazil, people thought English people were extremely serious, had no sense of humour, and were obsessed with The Beatles. However, I have an exceptionally strong, good, ironic sense of humour that my friends and pupils love, and I do not particularly like The Beatles.

The only song by The Beatles that I like is “Blackbird,” which was only discovered 10-15 years ago, long after The Beatles had broken up, almost 30-40 years before.

When I first arrived in Brazil, I thought The Beatles were outdated and tacky, a common sentiment among English people. We do not seem to appreciate them as much as Brazilians do. Nonetheless, I still acknowledge their significance in pop history and what they represent for England.

It is worth noting that London is home to the headquarters of the world’s top advertising agencies, and this is no coincidence. Humour is an essential aspect of any marketing campaign and is often associated with English culture.

Returning to what Jessica had said, I suddenly felt as if a cold bucket of water had been thrown over my head. Many past situations now make sense. Jessica always told me to be quiet during parents’ meetings at school.

She asked me not to appear too often or say anything. She has never asked me to do something like getting her British passport, and we have never travelled or been on holiday together.

It is hard to explain, but over her 30 years, she has shown she is opposed to foreign cultures and people. It is hard to say this, but it seems this way. So, the $1,000,000 question is: Is it because of me and what I represent? Am I the reason for this? And again, why?

Was I such a bad father during her childhood that she could not forgive me? Or is it because I left her and her mother that she can never forgive me? Even though I separated from her mother, I was always nearby and wanted to be close to her. Finally, another doubt I have is whether my daughter is just a nationalist.

There is a fundamental difference between a patriot and a nationalist: a patriot loves their country, while a nationalist hates other nations. It is hard to think about it, and I would not want to judge her. But my daughter has some kind of feeling against me and probably against what I represent to her.

I have already spoken to Jessica about her feelings towards me. I told her I knew she did not like me very much, and she was surprised by my frankness. Looking back, she did not deny it either.

So, is it me? Or who am I? I am not upset about this, but I am disappointed. I would like to have a closer relationship with my eldest daughter. I love her very much, respect her, and am proud of her. But I am getting older, and life is too short to worry too much about things we cannot change. Only time will show us the truth.

Looking back, Sunday was just one more piece of the puzzle, fitting into the bigger picture of my life, or anyone’s. It is all about recognising the signs, even when we misinterpret them. Only time will tell, and sometimes it will not. If that is the case, we must accept it as it is. Let us see.

A long walk in the morning, then classes, and a lot of thinking!!!