With COVID-19’s impact this year, I didn’t get to spend it with my family. Luckily, we got to Facetime and with my sweet friends here, the days were magical and beautiful despite it all. Yet, it reminded me of my first Christmas out of the country – two years ago in Brazil.

Waking up Christmas Eve morning already sweaty in the humid climate, my mood was already a bit off. For the first time in the week we had been there, I wished for my Missourian cold and snow – missing the comfort of my staple pom-pom winter hat hugging my head. But more than that, I missed the hugs of my lovely little family, a sudden stab of regret of spending this holiday away from them that stayed with me throughout the day. I had figured that since we didn’t really have much tradition and didn’t make it such a big deal anyways, that I’d be fine away from home for Christmas. Well… tell that to my emotions because I surely wasn’t.

As the day progressed, it only seemed to get worse. Without any direction probably due to the holiday, my friend, Carley, and I lazed around all day, struggling to block the thoughts of what our families were probably doing that night. After asking our host family about what the plan was, we were told to go… just go. To this day, I am still unsure if that was a language miscommunication (my intermediate Spanish didn’t match up with Portuguese all of the time – or even most of the time), or if that was their family celebration and they really just wanted us out of there. Either way, we went. I called the only other people we knew on the island – our friends, Eduardo and his brother J’oam.

Picking us up in a real SUV car, not the dune-buggy we’d gotten used to, already reminded us of the comforts of home. We ate acaí bowls, faces lit by the downtown coastal lights, palm trees as the new pine. We learned of their Christmas traditions, and the local homeless man’s thoughts on life. As the sun set and our stomachs grumbled, they asked us if we’d like to join their family Christmas dinner. Anxious about intruding on such a special time, the boys reassured us entirely that their family would be thrilled to have us…

And they absolutely were. Carley and I walked into the warmest hugs and merry greetings of a full house. Not that I could tell you what they said at all, because they only spoke Portuguese and we didn’t know any besides the basics. Despite our language, culture, and climate differences, the night was spent full of laughter, incredible food, polaroid pictures, and singing to what I assume were their Christmas traditional songs. The down mood we felt stuck in nearly all day evaporated with the hugs and kindness of a Brazilian family that met us an hour before, yet made us feel right at home. Meeting Carley’s eye over the tink of a cheered glass of traditional Brazilian wine, I knew she felt the same. We went to sleep full of love, full of the kindness of strangers who opened their hearts and home when we needed it most.

Now, I won’t get into the next day, Christmas Day, which we spent mostly in the hospital. That’s for a whole other story and I choose not to remember my Brazilian Christmas as that horrific day or the days to come after, but instead as the magical, welcoming evening before. It reminded me that no matter where I am in the world, there are good people, and that is really what matters. Christmas has never been about the cold, the food, or even presents. It’s about that connection you feel with the people around you, that warm fuzzy feeling that tinges the day with love.

For this Christmas and every Christmas, it’s about the connections – and I couldn’t be more grateful for mine.

Thanks for listening and keep following along for more travel stories to come! 🙂