Small feelings of loneliness.

It’s strange how much one can miss home in just a matter of days. On day one, I was completely fine—totally immersed in the character of Rio, finding everything so fascinating. But I’m starting to feel that longing—homesickness—that one gets when the dust finally settles and normalcy begins. The language issue becomes more and more apparent every day, and while I can get by with my fluency and finish my daily tasks, I want to be able to have conversations and understand everything that’s going on around me. I know it will happen, and it takes time, but I’m impatient. I think that’s why maybe the Fulbright in Rio will be good—the people here seem to really understand the important of relaxing when there is no need for work.

As someone who craves alone time, being in Rio—at these early stages—can be somewhat of a blessing in disguise. Walking around Arpoador, Botafogo, Flamengo—idyllic moments when I can catch a group of cariocas sipping sucos at the nearby lanchonette, hardcore surfers trying to catch a few waves, families shopping at the mall near the praia. Soon, hopefully, I will be one of those people, laughing and enjoying myself, but right now, it’s incredibly difficult to make friends.

No one tells you the feelings you get when you aren’t surrounded by the people who you love. Each day—each hour—I grow more respect for my friends who moved from a far to the US, my parents who immigrated in their twenties, and all those who I pass on the streets in Manhattan—but don’t really acknowledge.