By Ari Bloom
Special to the Sentinel
When visiting the stunning city of Rio de
Janeiro, it is exceedingly easy to fall into a
pleasant routine of waking up late, hitting
the beach and spending the evening at a
local samba hall. The greatest day of my
most recent visit, however, was a slight
departure from this simple existence.
It began with a long and disorienting taxi
ride up to the lovely district of Santa
Theresa. Perched atop one of Rio's many
peaks, the neighborhood is a jigsaw of
narrow winding roads of various
elevations. Lined with beautiful
pastel-colored colonial mansions, the
district's indecisive path is interrupted only
by the occasional collection of bars and
handicraft stores.
For residents who are not the fortunate
owners of the many gorgeous vintage
automobiles that rest along the streets,
transportation within the neighborhood is
best achieved by the antique yellow
"Bonde," which runs on Rio's last
remaining streetcar line.
For our visit, my girlfriend and I were
dropped off near the highest elevation of
the district. From there, we wandered
through a maze of pink, yellow and blue
mansions, dodging autos parked with
substantial claims to the narrow white
sidewalk. Every 20 minutes or so, a faint
clanking would become increasingly
audible until another Bonde came
clamoring by, local children hanging off
the sides to better view the two gringo
pedestrians.
Daylight fading, we ducked into one of
Rio's best bars and greeted the evening
with a steady supply of local beer and
loads of fried food. The sounds of a
sensual bossa nova singer and her
three-piece accompaniment filled the
mansion-turned-samba-hall, from its rich,
dark-wood floors to its 20-foot ceilings.
It was the end to the kind of day every
traveler dreams of having. Sitting back
and taking it all in, I thought, if days like
this are plentiful in Rio, I may never leave.
Ari Bloom lives in San Francisco.