My husband, Renato, and I were walking Lap 4 of the 5 around the park it takes to equal a mile. Our new neighbors, two couples traveling together, called out for us to join them at their table, resplendent with wine bottles and glasses.
Now, while I may appear outgoing in print, I can be slow to socialize and tire quickly of anything that doesn’t look like my bed and my Nook. Once I get going though, I can yak up a major storm. Renato, on the other hand, is unquestionably on the shy side, unless he knows you. Then he can get going pretty good, too.
So, we sated this nice people’s curiosity about us. Yes, I’m from Ohio, and yes I went to Ohio State and yes, it was under the reign of “3 yards and a cloud of dust” Woody Hayes. Our new friends’ demeanors were a study in politeness but the story of my corn-fed life didn’t seem to bowl anyone over. But my husband’s story…well…it went like this:
Them: “So where did you grow up?’
Him: “Brazil.”
Them: “ WHAT? BRAZIIIIIIIIIIL?”
Me: “Yup, he grew up in the Amazon Rain Forest wearing banana leaves for diapers and blowing poison darts at the local Indians” (hahahahahah…me, laughing hysterically at myself since I’ve said this 1,000 times since we’ve been married and I never tire of me.)
Him: “Not true….I grew up in the southern part of Brazil, Sao Leopoldo , a city in Rio Grande do Sul. It’s gaucho country.”
One of Them ( female): “Wow! That explains why you are so HANDSOME! Isn’t he HANDSOME?” (yes, her hubby was sitting right there…)
Another One of Them ( the other female): “No kidding! You’re so EXOTIC!
Belly laughs all around, including Renato, for whom this feedback was shockingly assertive coming from total strangers. But it wasn’t over…
One of Them (male): “So, Renato, are you the Boy from Ipanema?”
Talk about mass hysteria!
So, Dear Readers, What do you think are the odds I have brought this up about a thousand times since it happened?
Happy tales, and here’s to RV life and “The Boy from Ipanema.”