Downtown Rio de Janeiro

 Thiago’s parents had some business to take care of in Downtown Rio de Janeiro, far away from the cushy, insulated life of Barra de Tijuca (the elite suburb of Rio). We piled into the car and headed along the coast for one of the most beautiful seaside drives I have ever been on. We passed all the famous beaches, I saw the statue of Christ high up on a mountain to the left, and marveled at the rolling blue sea to the right. As a perfect accoutrement to our journey, the soundtrack was my Dad’s epic record “Ptarmigan” that he had given to Napoleão, along with two of his other CD’s, Northstream and After All, which we enjoyed on the way home. Both Thiago’s parents just loved the music and think that dad has an incredible voice and brilliant musicianship.

Once we reached the downtown business sector of Rio, we parked (and remembered where this time), enjoyed the ease of not having to push our own elevator button, and agreed to meet together at 3pm in order to beat the rush hour traffic back to Barra de Tijuca (which is pronounced Bah-ha da Ti-shjoo-cah, but is spoken impossibly fast for non-Portuguese speakers to say properly).

Thiago and I did an ad hoc historical walking tour of Rio by ourselves, enjoying the 16th Century architecture, archaeological sites, imperial settlement and subsequent colonial history which is very well documented in public buildings, and admiring the vast baroque Catholic churches that punctuate nearly every street corner, not unlike Starbucks in Vancouver.

We eventually found our way to the unparalleled “Confeitaria Colombo”, an incredible patisserie-type venue which featured every kind of sweet and savory pastry and confection one could ever imagine. It is the oldest establishment of its type in Rio, dating over 100 years (1884). Thiago ordered a brilliant selection of delicacies for us to sample, which was the perfect lunch. I soaked in the ambiance of the space, imagining the stories and stature of the patrons of such an establishment over the years.

As we were ready to leave, we discovered that it was raining heavily and people were crowding under the awnings of the businesses lining the narrow Rua Gonçalves Dias. “Wait here and don’t move”, Thiago instructed me. “I’m going to buy an umbrella”. Thinking he’d be gone for at least 20 minutes in a wild goose chase for an umbrella, soaking himself in pursuit to keep me dry during the tropical rainstorm, I admired how chivalrous my husband can be. Less than 5 minutes later, more like 3 minutes later, he returned with a giant navy and green tartan golf umbrella and a big smile on his face. “Wow! You’re good, Thiago!” I swooned. “

“I had to act fast,” he replied.


Apparently he knew that vendors wait for days with caches of umbrellas stored under their stalls, hoping for rainstorms knowing that desperate clients are willing to pay any price not to get soaked when the clouds open up. Within 10-15 minutes, all the umbrellas in town are sold and the vendors call it an early day and pack up their kiosks to head back to wherever they call home.

Slightly less chivalrous than I thought, but I was glad not to get soaked!