My first week in Rio de Janeiro.

The overnight flight from Bogotá was long, made longer still by seats that didn’t recline and limited legroom; I didn’t sleep. I had spent the day in Bogotá, lunching at El Chato on my extended layover. I was to stop over on my flight from Panama City anyway and used it as an excuse to extend my layover in order to dine.

The first time I visited Bogotá it was to see Tini in concert. I was spending a month in Medellín when I learned of her show and used it as an excuse to head to Bogotá for a few days. I’m really glad I did as I enjoyed seeing a different side of Colombia (and the concert was amazing!). This time, it extended my streak of visiting Bogotá for a distinct purpose.

We landed in Rio early in the morning, the gate a far walk from immigration. Arriving, I found the lines short, the immigration questions perfunctory. I was quickly past and my bags came out shortly after I made it to the luggage belt.

I had researched where to pick up an Uber on the web before arriving, but the information proved out of date. After asking directions I learned it was on the arrivals floor, out the doors to the left. Three colored zones form a U-shaped circle with a few parking slots in each. I typed in my address into the app and was directed to a zone. My driver appeared minutes later.

It was hot and humid outside of the airport, but nothing compared to the tropical climate of Panama City. I tried to force myself to stay awake on the drive into the city to take in my first views of the area, but failed.

Near the center we drove through a series of tunnels, which reminded me of the approach to Medellín. On the other side, it was as if we had gone through a portal to another world. We emerged out into a city transformed, with lush greenery, clean streets and modern skyscrapers. We drove alongside a lake. People cycled and ran on a path that runs along its shores; others rowed upon its surface.

From the window of the Uber I could see the statue of Christ the Redeemer up on the hill.

At the apartment building Paiva checked me in and directed me to the elevator. Second floor, he told me. I rode the lift and unlocked the door to an immaculate space.

I took a nap before looking for lunch. The apartment sits above a mall and so I decided to see what I might find there. A beautiful delicatessen sits at the entrance and I almost bought some cheese and bread and called it a day. Instead I wandered the floors to see what was on offer, bought granola from a small shop on the top floor, checked out what films were showing at the movie theater.

From the mall I walked to a nearby produce stand and bought some fruit and yogurt and went home to nap. That night I went to a supermarket for more necessities and picked up sushi on the way home.

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It wasn’t until my second day in Rio that I had the opportunity to visit the beach, not three blocks away. From the apartment I can just see a sliver of the ocean.

The water was impossibly blue and chilly. Dipping my toes in I could see why there were few people playing in the surf. On arriving at the beach people offer to rent chairs and umbrellas from wooden kiosks. One evening, I’ll see them carting stacks of chairs back from the beach to store them before the next day. A few small lounges dot the walking path.

From the beach I turned back inland to explore Leblon and walk the Avenida Ataulfo de Paiva, a street lined with shops and malls and restaurants. I was headed to Kurt to sample their brigadeiro, a traditional Brazillian dessert. I had been introduced to them by a friend one year when she asked me to pick one up from the Brazilian bakery near my apartment in New York. Before then I hadn’t even realized that there was a Brazilian bakery near my apartment in New York.

The street is beautiful, lined with lush trees suggestive of the tropics. In some ways it reminds me of a more cosmopolitan El Poblado in Medellín.

I admired the cobblestones and took note of bakeries, restaurants, and grocery stores. I picked up a slice of cake and then a pastel de nata from a Portuguese stand. From a grocer I bought a container of sliced papaya.

That afternoon I posted a photo to social media of myself sitting on the balcony of the apartment, a mountain and skyscrapers in the background. Marina, a friend I had met on a cruise to Antarctica commented, Yayy you are in the neighborhood. It turns out I’m a block from her and from her parents. She told me she’ll check their schedules to see when we can hang.

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The next day I walked the same walk through Ipanema. My apartment sits between the two neighborhoods and I wanted to compare the one with the other.

In many ways, the streets of Ipanema looked similar, but felt older somehow, as if Ipanema was Leblon, but set back ten years. I’m unfamiliar with the development of Rio, but the Leblon side feels just that much more modern, that much newer.

I didn’t have a destination per se, perhaps more of a distance I’d be willing to walk. I walk to the Praça Nossa Senhora da Paz and stop at the monument to Square Nossa Senhora da Paz. There aren’t many people in the park, and after pausing at the monument I continue walking east, past a flower market that threatens to take over the sidewalk and the various shops and restaurants that line the boulevard.

I stopped to take a photo outside a luncheonette and a woman cautions me about my camera. She warns me to keep it safe, that there are people who would steal it. I thank her and wrap the strap more tightly around my wrist.

At the Praça General Osório, named for a hero of the Paraguayan War, I walked to the obelisk in the center. A shallow pool of water surrounded it keeping me from climbing the steps for a closer look. A bust of the general sits in the northwest corner staring passively out towards an Irish pub across the street.

I turned around to walk back to my apartment, retracing my steps down the R. Visc. de Pirajá. Near the edge of the neighborhood I admired another kiosk selling plants and flowers and thought of how many I’d buy were I to move to Rio.

Crossing the Canal do Jardim de Alah and looking into Leblon, I’m again struck at the difference between the two neighborhoods. Bright skyscrapers greet me, a glittering canyon awaiting my return. 🇧🇷