Sunday, December 14, 2014

The Real Rio.

Rio is full of layers. On the surface, you get to see its natural beauty, its incredible lifestyle, laughter and happiness that are contagious. Underneath that, you find all the functional problems that, only one that experiences Rio can see and understand. It is a layer of corruption, inequality and poverty, that makes this city very hard to love. 

But then, there is another layer, where you get the true essence of Rio. Its culture, its ravishing creativity and its boiling passion for art, music and love. And this is the part where, if you blink, you might miss. 

Today I went to an abandoned factory that has been turned into an art studio. No, not an art studio. Dozens of small ateliers (like little workshops) where artists can come to show and sell their work. It is this huge place, where the visitors still walk among the old machinery, the cricked stairs, and the worn out structure.  

The art pieces were from all different shapes and forms. Some were wooden tables, some were paintings, some were jewelry. There was music and laughter, smoking anywhere and chatter everywhere. It was a sunny Sunday, where families, dogs and friends came to find each other, to celebrate life in their own way.  I was shocked to see that, in this seemingly poor neighborhood, they are so rich in culture and art.

As I walked through the dirty hallways, I kept thinking about the United States. In the US, we would never allow a place like this to exist. There are safety hazards everywhere you look. Someone can fall from the old stairs at any given moment, and the structure of the place doesn't seem like it will hold much longer. There are no signs "follow this way"; there, art is found in every wall, every corner, and it is up to the visitors to explore as they please. I kept looking at all the possible lawsuits and hospital bills that could potentially come from this, but then I remembered: this is Rio.

And just as I thought I had seen it all, we get to the rooftop. This huge open area, with nothing but grass, where you can see Rio with your own eyes. I could see everything, from the streets down, to the slums up there. The sun was hitting my face, and the wind was blowing on me. I felt so alive! It feels like from here, Rio is untouchable. I am untouchable. 

It becomes so easy to take for granted the little things that make a city so special. Today, I feel like I explored a deep layer of Rio. A layer that characterizes the true difference between Brazil and the rest of the world; something that cannot be explained, only experienced. 

Saturday, December 13, 2014

This is real, this is Rio.

I am Brazilian. Loud ad proud, and with the bottom of my heart. That doesn't mean some things don't still shock me. This is how I see my country now, after living abroad for 5 years.

Rio is breath taking. I don't get tired of looking at it, of breathing it in and being dazzled by what I see. No matter how many times I find my way to Rio, Rio just doesn't cease to mesmerize me. 
But, not everything is sunshine and rainbows in this beautiful land. There are problems and there is evil too. 

I had forgotten how scared everyone is - everyone needs to be. Walking on the streets of Copacabana, I always have to watch my back, hold my purse tight, and hope that today is not the day a kid with a weapon will take everything that I own. And the sad part is, nowhere is really safe. Crimes happen day or night, crowded street or middle of nowhere. I can be alone or in a group, in a building or outside my house. If I'm in a car, they can take the car. If I'm in the streets, people are too scared to help, because they might get hurt too. It's crazy how the city has been taken over by illegality, and most of the times, the police won't help you either. 

My sister got robbed a few months ago. She went to the police, and thanks to technology, she was able to pinpoint the location of her phone. The chief at the police station simply told her "do you think anyone is going to want to go there just to get your phone?" , and as she stares at the policeman, unable to grasp what he is saying, he explains that even though it is their job, who in their right mind would risk going inside the slum? Like my sister's story, many other remain untold. 

Also, beware when taking a taxi. Seems like many of the yellow cabs are actually kidnapping, robbing, and raping their passengers. There is little control, and no way of finding out which ones are real taxis and which ones are not. 

Since we are talking about taxis, let me tell you a story of what happened yesterday. I was in a taxi, when the guy was telling me the stories of things that happened while I was gone. There were several worth-telling stories - including the one where his car got stolen and when the police refused to help, he grabbed his friends, a few guns, and took back his car - but the one that I want to share concerns our legal system. 

In Brazil, until you are 18 you are not considered an adult. It's a black and white rule, and simple to understand; if you commit any crime before you are 18, you cannot be tried as an adult, cannot go to jail, and cannot have anything permanent on your record. So, as the taximan was telling me, there was this 17 year old boy who wanted money for his 18th birthday party. So, he decided to rob a bus. He went in, started robbing everyone, and he saw a pretty girl sitting over there. He decided to rape her, right then and there. The police caught him, but there were still a few days till his 18th birthday. The end of this story is not pretty, and unfortunately, more common than anyone would like it to be. The kid was held in a facility for a few days until his birthday, which is when he was released to his old life. He is a free man today. His picture could not be released to the public, because he was a minor. His future employers cannot have access to this record, because it happened while he was still 17. So he is out here, walking around like you and me. He could be working at the store by my house, or he could be the taxi driver that told me this story. 

It's sad how this wonderful city has been taken over by illegality. It's sad how my city is broken. And it's crazy how we all still love it so much.