Image description: A lively cultural dance performance takes place beneath a canopy of colorful paper streamers and lanterns arranged in vibrant bands of red, blue, green, yellow, orange, and purple. At the center of the scene, a woman in a voluminous white dress and a man in an embellished white suit dance energetically, extending their arms toward the audience. Around them, other performers wear bright costumes in shades of blue, red, gold, and orange, creating a dynamic sense of movement. Warm string lights illuminate the festive setting, evoking the atmosphere of a traditional Brazilian June festival celebration.
Last year, I wrote about missing Carnival and my complicated feelings around it—the longing for an experience I hadn’t truly enjoyed while I could. This year, I’m opening my heart to another traditional and powerful festivity from back home: São João. But this time, my saudade is entirely rooted in lived experience rather than "what-ifs."
As June arrives in Canada, the air is warm, but it lacks the heat I long for. Here, the days stretch out quietly in contrast to the beautiful chaos you bring to the streets of the Northeast. I am thousands of miles away from my país do forró, yet my heart has already packed its bags and flown home to you.
I miss everything about you, but most of all, I miss the sheer joy of getting ready for you. Gathering with friends to plan the parties, “who’s bringing what?”, hanging up the decorations, and feeling that shared, electric anticipation in the air. We would spend hours talking, laughing, and getting everything ready, entirely united by the excitement of what was to come.
I miss looking around and seeing the entire city transformed by our traditions, where everyone and everything is dressed for the occasion. The streets become a sea of plaid shirts and colorful chita decorations. I close my eyes and I can see the bandeirinhas dancing across the sky, cutting through the smoke of the backyard bonfires we all enjoy with our families. I can hear the immediate, comforting crackle of traques and chuvinhas on the pavement, and the deep, rhythmic thud of fireworks echoing in the night.
I miss the magic of watching the quadrilhas perform, their vibrant costumes spinning in perfect unison, telling stories of our people with so much pride. And then, of course, there is the forró. There is nothing in the world like locking arms with friends, letting the accordion guide our steps, and dancing until our feet ache on the cobblestones.
I miss the flavor of you, found in every corner of the festive arraiás. June back home tastes like pure comfort: canjica, mugunzá, pamonha, freshly baked cakes, caruru, cocada, churrasco, tapioca treats, and the steam rising from a hot plate of corn with butter and salt. I miss the rows of stalls overflowing with food and local crafts, and how no matter where you walk, there is always music blasting from every corner, tying the whole crowd together.
Living abroad teaches you the true weight of saudade. It is not just about missing a place; it is about missing a feeling. Writing this is my way of keeping my promise to you. No matter where I am in the world, I will always remember the warmth of the fire, the taste of the corn, and the rhythm of the zabumba. You are the reminder of who I am and where I come from.