Gringo in the Sun
I had a plan.
A simple, beautiful, foolproof plan.
Enjoy some lively samba music at a local boteco along the Orla in Salvador. Great company. Cold drinks. Ocean breeze. Shade. Clouds. Vibes.
And for once, I decided to outsmart Mother Nature.
No sunscreen.
Why? Because sunscreen can be slightly uncomfortable and I was convinced I had cracked the code:
Breezy day? Check. Partly cloudy? Check. Shade the whole time? Check. Umbrella overhead? Check.
I strolled confidently along the seaside like a seasoned tropical veteran. Hours passed. Laughter flowed. Music played. Life was good.
Victory.
What I didn’t account for was Brazil’s famous mormaço. It is a sneaky sun that burns you through the clouds. It looks harmless. It feels like a warm hug. And then it attacks.
A few days later, it hurts to raise an eyebrow, and smiling is a gamble.
So much for outsmarting Mother Nature.
Here’s the irony: I’ve lived in Brazil long enough to watch locals apply sunscreen to already-tanned skin with great care and discipline. And there I was, the optimistic Midwestern gringo, thinking clouds and shade were some kind of UV force field.
Lesson learned. Again.
And while this story is mostly about a sunburn, it also feels like a pretty solid leadership lesson:
Sometimes we convince ourselves we’ve “got it figured out.” We skip the basics. We ignore the quiet wisdom of those around us. We trust our own experience just a little too much.
And then reality reminds us, often painfully, that fundamentals exist for a reason.
Preparation matters. Humility matters. And yes… sunscreen matters.
I absolutely love Brazil. The people. The energy. The climate. The lifestyle. But this gringo now knows:
Sunscreen. Always. Even when it’s cloudy.
When will I learn?
Apparently… one sunburn at a time.

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