Living in Brazil comes with one very clear responsibility: learn the language. Easier said than done. Even living here—and being married to a Brazilian—learning a new language is a challenge. Learning one at 62 is an even bigger one.

What I didn’t know at first was that Portuguese in Brazil is different from the Portuguese in Portugal. Then I learned that Rio has its own dialect, the Carioca dialect. That’s about as much as I can confidently explain right now, because most days I’m just trying to keep my head above water while I sort through the language, the words, the structure, and the mysterious accents that seem to appear out of nowhere.

It isn’t a word-for-word translation from English—sometimes, but definitely not always. And since I haven’t taken a language class since high school (Spanish, not even Portuguese!) I was already rusty before I began. When my wife said I needed to learn basic verbs and how to conjugate them, I had no idea what she meant. She told me I should start with the verb “to be.”

My very mature response was: “To be what?”
Needless to say, she’s a teacher—but not my teacher. We agreed that was for the best, mostly to protect her sanity.

And just to raise the stakes, there are words that sound almost identical but mean wildly different things. A tiny slip-up can turn into a comedy—or a disaster. For example:

água de côco = coconut water

água de coco = shit water

One little hat on the “o” and suddenly your day goes very differently.

Brazilians also talk fast. Very fast. And they chop words in ways that make learners question their reality. I might learn something one way, but hear a completely different version on the street. For example, what I learned as Está bem often becomes tá bom, tá bem, or just tá.

Está bem → tá bom / tá bem → tá

“Okay” or “alright” shrinks all the way down to tá

But as a New Englander, I can’t complain. We’re the kings of fast talking and mangling English.
“Pak the ca” is still perfectly normal where I come from.

Little by little, I’m getting there. Phone translators are lifesavers. I can go out and order food, and if people speak slowly enough I actually understand them.

Pode falar mais devagar? (Can you speak more slowly?)

I practice every day. I sit somewhere with my apps, watch videos, listen to people, and try to speak whenever I can. Yes, I sound stupid—daily. People give me that “What is he trying to say?” look, but they also know I’m the gringo who’s trying his best. And honestly, that helps. One last tidbit, A Brazilian
may have 50 ways to say the same thing. Try you best to find the most common and go with that.

I’ll get there. I’m sure of it. I just need to remind myself:
Tenha paciência! (Have patience)