10 things I miss about Brazil.
That may not even exist anymore.
It’s been a long time. We moved back to the U.S. from Brazil in 2009. I read that date and it seems impossible. The experience impacted me in ways that make it feel as if it was yesterday.
I came across this post by The Venetian Pantry about some of the niche things she misses from Italy, written last April. Surprisingly, some of the things I loved most about Brazil stick with me day after day. I think of them often. With some motivation from that post, I compiled my own list of things that I still miss from living in Southern Brazil, even though I’m sure things have changed quite a bit in 16 years. The photos are proof it’s been that long, but for the sake of visuals, they’ll help paint the picture for you.
Real açai.
We tend to call them crazes or trends in the U.S. The act of taking something that is significant, a staple, and commonplace in other countries and turning it into our latest fad. Every time I order açai in the U.S. I go in with the high expectations that Brazil set for me and then I walk away disappointed.
I used to meet my friend Juliana for açai. We’d sit outside enjoying a fish bowl of puree with such an inky hue that it would turn your teeth deep purple. It was mixed with sugar and sometimes guarana, and then topped with banana, berries, star fruit, and coconut, to name a few options. The point being that the puree was mostly açai, not yogurt or another filler. Also, impossible to make at home as I learned when I bought actual açai berries at the market, sourced up in the Amazon region. There is a lot of seed and very little fruit around it!
Rodizio pizza.
Have you been to a Brazilian steakhouse? It’s called a churrascaria in Brazil, and while not the same experience, chains in the U.S. do a decent job of recreating it - bringing the meat around to you. Okay, now picture that for pizza.
You could call it a pizza buffet brought to your table by a server sliding a slice onto your plate, but I think that description lessens what an enjoyable experience it is. Maybe it’s because I love pizza so much, though. It’s not complete without Brazilian pizza toppings either - Portuguesa with Calabresa sausage and hard boiled egg, Frango com Catupiry with chicken and Brazilian cream cheese, Palmito with heart of palm, Tomate Seco com Rúcula with sun-dried tomatoes and arugula. Canned tuna, corn, and peas also often made an appearance.
Feiras.
When my Portuguese instructor told me the feira was like a farmers market, I had a mild response akin to - cool, I should check it out. What I experienced the first time I finally walked into one will forever be etched in my mind. A farmers market yes, but more a festival of food that happened multiple times per week.
Piles of oranges, more banana varieties than I’d ever encountered, meat on a stick, grilled cheese on a stick, huge steamer pots filled with pahmonha, a tamale-like creation of sweetened ground corn wrapped in husks, fresh pressed sugar cane juice, and vats of bubbling oil with hot pastel filled with meats and cheeses. A pastel is something I often see described as an empanada, but I insist is nothing like an empanada. A pastel is one of the most unique foods I’ve had in the world.
Maracujá everything.
Brazil was the first place I was introduced to passion fruit. (Lilikoi during visits to Hawaii came after we moved back to the States.) Cakes, fillings, fresh juices - it was everywhere and I ordered it all the time.
Juice.
Speaking of juice, after growing up in diet culture and then studying nutrition for 7 years in college, the drink definitely had a bad reputation in my world. Some nutrients, yes, but empty calories. Such a no-no. Until you enter a culture where it is a staple in every cafe. Our favorite spot down the street from our apartment had every variety you can imagine from fruits familiar world-wide to those specific to the Amazon region. Passion fruit, cashew, papaya, pineapple, and so many blends. I didn’t quite become accustomed to adding sugar to it, but answering “sem açúcar” (without sugar) when asked during your order was perfectly acceptable.
The greenspace.
The town we lived in had a population of about 300,000 people. It was roughly the same size as the city we left when we embarked on our expat adventure, Lexington, Kentucky. But by Brazil’s city population standards (Sao Paulo has over 11 million), it was small. Yet it was so much more urban than what we were used to.
It also had two huge parks with walking trails along the outside and inside. One housed a zoo, but two types of monkeys roamed freely. I walked and ran there almost daily and often ended the workout with a fresh coconut from the vendor who would set up just as people were ending their work day.
Appropriately sized goods.
Don’t get me wrong, I like Costco, but there is something about, I don’t know - regular? - sized shampoos, conditioners, and packages of crackers that are appealing. It feels almost quaint and nostalgic in 2025. I often wonder if these things have also supersized in Brazil this many years later.
Personal space.
This isn’t unique to Brazil and varies by culture, but I welcomed how my expat experience reduced my bubble. We’re in a different world after experiencing the pandemic, of course, but I often think about the impact those days had in other countries. In the U.S., we hug people we know well. We keep a distance from everyone else. Many of us already did daily what we were instructed to do to avoid illness during those times. It’s hard to imagine how hard it would have been and how much more of a disruption of usual daily life it was in other places.
The cheek kiss, the hug, the breathing over one’s shoulder. I kid, but I worked to embrace this more personal, compact way of living, of experiencing humanity. I’ll never forget the day I was strolling around the park, not long after we arrived. A man and a woman walked right up to me - oohing and ahhing as they reached out to touch my long blonde hair. (Which I know is not rare all over the country, but it was in the city we lived in.)
I knew very, and I mean very, little Portuguese but I did know the word for hair and was able to figure out that they owned a salon as they pointed to it across the street. I don’t prefer this happen daily or everywhere, but the friendliness and welcoming gestures left an impression on me.
Helpful flight attendants.
I realize flying is a two-way street. Many attendants are responding to the awful attitudes they receive from demanding travelers. But I’m often reminded how unhelpful attendants are on flights. They are there to do their job - serve a drink, keep you safe, and sometimes do it with a smile although that doesn’t always seem to be required. The smile part anyway. And no, not every one, but many nonetheless.
I still remember boarding my flight back to Southern Brazil after a solo trip in the north to meet up with expats. I bought a soap stone pot and carried it on board. As the flight attendant reached for it, I started to object, sure he was taking it from me. He was. So he could help me place it in the overhead bin. Attendants also routinely rushed to older passengers to help them lift and store their carry-ons. There was this overwhelming sense that they were always there to help.
I’ll also share an experience elsewhere we had just last spring on our flights around Amsterdam, London, and Dublin. Unlike U.S. flights, you cannot store bags under the seat in the exit row. Anxiety surged in us when we were told this on the plane, assuming we were in for our bags to be tossed in an unreachable bin in the back or worse, checked plane-side.
To our surprise, the attendant, who was standing in the exit row, opened the overhead bin. Completely empty. They were there to hold it specifically for the bags of exit row seat passengers. I have not been on a U.S. flight in the last year that even does that for their bulkhead seat passengers. Helpfulness, even when not required, is so appreciated.
Cultural fusion.
I’m just going to say it. I live in a very white place these days. It’s a lovely place, with lovely people, gorgeous views, and rural peacefulness. But I regularly crave the diversity of the Bay Area where we once lived. It’s a big part of why I love to travel.
This cultural fusion became familiar and comforting to me in Brazil. Where we lived happened to be where a large population of Japanese immigrants had settled. Have you had Brazilian sushi? Don’t dare pass it up if the opportunity arises.
Many of our friends had Italian and German heritage mixed with their Brazilian roots. There were parts of life that were very South American and Portuguese along with a reflection of a myriad of other cultures. Living in Brazil was the first time I had Lebanese food, for example. I will always crave landscapes I’ve not seen, foods I’m unfamiliar with, and languages I don’t understand.
Thanks for joining me for this trip down memory lane. Thoughts? I’d love to hear from you.
This was so fun, thank you for sharing! Also, I was floored when traveling in Europe this past summer and everyone was so civilized putting their luggage in the bin above their seat and not stowing it elsewhere and blocking the bulkhead bin space!