CRISE DE ABSTINÊNCIA

As journalists, we were taught to never gush about the subjects that we write about. These include products, places or people. The reason for this is taste is subjective and while we’ve seen marked improvement in products and services, there is still plenty of room for improvement. While we are experts at subject matters, we also haven’t experienced or tasted everything. It is highly likely that there is something better than the best we’ve tried but we don’t know it yet.

For the last few weeks, however, I’ve been gushing about Rio de Janeiro. I was very sad about leaving the Brazilian city after a 10-day work trip in January. I couldn’t stop thinking about the place, the people and the total experience. Worse, I was even dreaming about it for weeks after returning home. Full disclosure, Rio de Janeiro is beautiful and unique, but it is far from perfect and ideal. The buildings are old and look very similar to Lisbon with much more dirt. The cars aren’t modern. I felt like I was in Manila in the 1990s if I’m being honest. Streets are filled with sedans and it is very rare to find an SUV traipsing Leblon, Ipanema or Copacabana. People aren’t progressive in terms of their startorial choices. I do understand that it is a beach city, but even their resort wear isn’t 2020 save for their swimwear, the sunga and thong bikini. Those I like and wish more people around the world wore them. In many places of Rio de Janeiro, it is unsafe. Criminals and drug dealers abound. In fact, two of the people I was with on the same trip were stolen of their technology and sunglasses in broad daylight in upscale establishments. Despite all these, why do I like Rio de Janeiro so much?

I couldn’t figure out where this deep liking was coming from. Was it infatuation? Was it a fleeting crush? I’ve been to many new places in this life stage, but I’ve never fallen for a city as much as I have for Rio de Janeiro, flaws and all. I couldn’t not put my finger on it until I realized that I’ve fallen for Rio’s spirit more than its apperance. It is raw and authentic. It is real and unapologetic. I’ve fallen for its people and its landscape.

While on the trip, I met three incredible Cariocas, the term that refers to Rio de Janeiro natives. Fernanda, Victoria and Pedro are all kind, gentle and amiable. They have a spirit that is unlike anyone else that I’ve met before. They didn’t need to overextend their kindness to me, but they did. “Stay at my house the next time you come back,” they all said. This wasn’t lip service because they truly meant it. They wanted me to stay in a local home instead of a hotel. Apparently, it’s common for Cariocas to invite you to their home if they feel comfortable with you. Pedro doesn’t have social media. He reasons in his broken English that, “I like to talk. I like to talk to people face to face. You come to my house. I come to your house. I don’t want to be a picture and a caption that you will just like.” He made an excellent point.

The way we interface with people has become so digital. We fall for appearances that are filtered, edited, colored, saturated and stripped of its raw beauty when we should really fall for the soul and spirit of people and places.

Obrigado Brasil for reminding me of what truly matters. I’m still feeling the separation anxiety or in your words crise de abstinência.