12 JULY 1998 - The day Brazil lost the cup

Because the FIFA World Cup was happening in the United States, the time zone difference made the Final Match air in Ireland late in the evening. We watched in disbelief as the machine that had been the Brazilian squad squander every shot like a group of amateurs against France. All of our amazing players seemed to all of sudden forget how to play.

It was a nightmare.

It was a heart-breaking humiliating loss and that was that.

Elena, Chuchi’s younger sister, was there visiting and had invited an Irish friend to watch the game with us. Their reaction was “Oh, well. You win some, you lose some.” But my father and I were not having it. Losing is one thing, but throwing away the game like that was another. Losing like this was enraging. But, there was nothing we could do. So we got ready to go out.

We went to a night club that had a pup area. The place was crowded with Frenchmen dressed in white navy uniforms dancing the Conga, celebrating their victory.

The French sailors were well in their right to celebrate. But they were irritating. I went to the toilet and it was full of them. I had to pretend to celebrate France’s victory so that they would leave me alone. I got to my urinal as they left. Next to me was and Irishman who kept screaming “Fuck France! Brazil was alway the better squad!” and so on. That made me happy.

So losing the World Cup was tragic. Disgraceful, even. But we were sure 2002 would be ours again (as it was.. but that’s for a story for another day).

Trip comes to an end and I have second thoughts…

The was my first international trip after the divorce. It was the first time I had visited my dad after the divorce. It was also the first time I questioned my decision to stay with my mom in Rio.

I chose to stay in Rio because, well, firstly, I wasn’t happy about how it all went down. I felt sorry for my mom, and I wan’t about to “abandon” her. Plus, the school in Rio offered me both a Brazilian and an American High School diploma. It had been made very clear to me that we did not have the resources to finance my higher education abroad, so I would have to go to College in Brazil anyway.

Had I gone to Ireland, I would only get an Irish High School diploma, which was useless to me, since I would have to get it validated in Brazil before I could get into College, which would have to be in Brazil anyway. And also, I would have lost the American High School diploma.

Maybe that was just me rationalizing and justifying my choices to myself.

That, and there was indeed a certain charm about living in Rio: the parties, the beaches, the city itself.

But having now spent a few months in Ireland, the whole vibe and easy going life, the way Europe “just works” made me question if I had made the right choice. I only had one more year to go in school and I naïvely still believed that there was a chance of going to college abroad. So I figured that it was all good and that things would pan out…

…and back to Rio my sister and I went.