I was born in Bom Fim, the Jewish neighborhood in Porto Alegre, where my grandparents, their families and friends settled, where all synagogues, Jewish clubs and restaurants were and still are. I remember my first memories of Judaism: walking back home from a festivity in the shul at night with my dad, with an Israeli flag, a candied apple and a bag full of sweets. I didn't understand it, but loved it. What kid wouldn't love some sweets?
I remember very little as we moved to a different neighborhood when I was 3.
35 years later I'm living in Bom Fim again. It is different, but I still see familiar faces of old people who once pinched my cheeks as a little boy. I'm too shy to come close and say "I know you, but I don't know your name and you probably won't remember me". But these old familiar faces make me feel at home.
