June 2010

The weekly fair in Ipanema, or as known by locals as Hippie Fair was the usual display of paintings, various crafts and other things.  I saw a cool red t-shirt, that instead of having written “Coca-Cola”, it said “Carioca” in the famous script, a reference to the name given to Rio’s locals.  We met up with Sabrina’s friend and continued walking around.  The women were speaking Portuguese among each other, and I even though I couldn’t catch even one word, I wasn’t really paying attention.  The women were deciding what to buy or not to buy, and just basically doing women things.  I let them do what they wanted, and just followed them around, occasionally getting lost in other aisles, then rejoining back with them.

After few hours of painful shopping that I knew I had to endure, the fair was wrapping up and I set myself on auto-pilot letting the girls figure out what to do next.  Being on auto-pilot was pretty much the only option in this situation.  Although it’s not ideal as far as male-female relationships go, I let Sabrina dictate the pace of the interaction.  There are several reasons for this.  First, I did not have a place of my own.  I was staying in a hostel, so asking her to come back there was not an option.  Sure, I could’ve asked her to “hang out” in one of the hourly motels spread around the city, but that just didn’t feel right yet.  I knew that she had a place of her own, so she’d invite me there when time was right.  Second, and most importantly, I did not know the ins-and-outs of the dating culture.  I was enjoying her being a tour guide and showing me around, and that felt like a good place to be.

The girls decided to go to Copacabana for a drink.  We all grabbed the first bus that came, and just as I was about to pay, Sabrina paid for both of us, and we sat down all the way at the back.  Twenty minutes later we arrived in an area of Copa I’ve never been before.  It was the eastern side of the neighborhood closer to Leme, another neighborhood that completes Rio’s shoreless on the eastern side.  We got out, and proceeded to a large boteco (bar) on the corner.

We sat down and ordered choppes (Brazilian draft beer).  Sabrina set next to me, and put her legs on top of mine under the table.  The two friends talked between each other, only to glance at my confused face now and then.  Once in a while Sabrina or her friend would look at me and ask me a simple question directly, which I was able to answer using my Portunol.  I felt odd just sitting there not being able to understand and participate in the conversation.  On one side, I knew it was typical girl talk, and so I wouldn’t have participated anyway, but on the other side, it still felt weird to be a mute at the table.

Few hours later, and several more choppes, we asked for the check, and started leaving the restaurant.   Sabrina’s friend mentioned about needing to be somewhere else, so Sabrina and I said our goodbyes.  It was just me and Sabrina and the night was still young.  I did not know what the plan was, so I just went with the flow.  We walked together hand in hand directly to your her apartment building.  I guess after about a week and a half of knowing each other, she finally felt comfortable having me at her place.  As we walked up the stairs, I walked behind her, greeting the doorman after her.

Her apartment was spacious but empty.  I noticed a mid-size LCD TV screen, and a fold out sofa in the living room.  It gave the impression that she just moved in few days ago, and was setting things up.  I sat down on the couch and she put on the TV.  Not a minute went by and we were passionately kissing and progressing from there.  She looked at me, and pointed at the open window behind me which was not covered by blinds directly facing the other building.  I nodded, and she got up and led me to her bedroom.  Her bedroom was a bit more furnished, with a comfortable queen size bed, and some dressers.  That was all I remember, as we were too busy racing to see who can remove other’s clothes first.  What followed was one of the most passionate lovemaking that I’ve ever done.

Afterwards she rested on my chest while I strongly held her body close to mine.  While I laid down looking up at the ceiling, breathless trying to understand the situation.  We dream of fantasies, of having certain things happen to us.  Things like adventure, of being on foreign land, and doing exotic things.  For me, personally, there’s no greater nirvana that laying next to a beautiful woman in her own house enjoying each other’s embrace.  Especially when I met her on my terms without any third party introductions, without internet, but just through pure desire.  And especially when neither had a common language to communicate our deepest thoughts or desires.  I laid there thinking that I’ve tasted the success that few gringos ever experience, and I felt satisfied of being a man who went after his desires and got them.

She got up, and walked naked to the kitchen.  She asked me if I wanted to try something she cooked previously.  I wasn’t hungry and had to decline as I was still pretty full from the beer.  I couldn’t help but notice that this would never happen in America.  In America, I’d rarely meet a girl who knows how to cook.  One of my ex-girlfriends once pointed at the microwave and told me to ‘help myself’.  At the time, I took as a bit of an offense, but now I accept it as reality.  She asked me if I wanted to watch something else on TV, or perhaps a Samba show on DVD.  She put on the Samba show and she danced a little still naked with the most gorgeous body I’ve ever had the pleasure to caress just an hour before.

I spent the night, and in the morning we parted ways: she was going to work, and I was going back to the hostel.  She mentioned she was going to be out of town for the following week.  She texted me when she came back, but I did not have credit on my pre-paid account so I couldn’t reply.  I texted her a day later, and she replied the next day.  After several texts, we finally made plans to have sushi in Ipanema.  Fifteen minutes before the date, she cancelled saying that she had family problems and couldn’t come out.  I was, of course, somewhat suspicious, but shrugged it off.   The following week she was getting more distant and distant, taking progressively longer to reply.  Maybe the initial spark was gone, or perhaps she got together with one of her ex’s.  I never saw her again after that.  Months went by, my Portuguese improved dramatically, many more girls came and went, but only one was the highlight of my whole trip in Brazil.

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I turned around and noticed about three teenagers walking in our direction.  By then it was close to about 5 am, yet still pitch dark.  At this hour we were all alone on the beach, save for the lonely kiosk still operating.  I felt uneasy and knew that we were exposed and easy targets should anyone was interested in robbing us.  As I nervously looked around, Sabrina felt my hesitation but herself was not as nearly concerned.  Perhaps she was more used to the environment and didn’t consider Rio as dangerous as the worldwide media makes it out to be.  Seeing her this calm soothed me a little but I felt we needed to at least start heading back to the boardwalk and off the sand.  We got up from the sand, and started walking back the way we came from.  We sat down on cement blocks near the kiosk and continued to enjoy the view and our company.  Back near the shore, the three teenagers continued walking in the direction towards Leblon uninterrupted.  Perhaps I overreacted but I’d rather have erred on the side of caution than be completely naive about a situation.

The city started slowly to light up.  We walked back to the beach determined to walk barefoot in the warm Rio ocean for the last time before partying home.  The new day was beginning and we were both exhausted from a sleepless but an amazing night.  I waited while she hailed a cab, gave her a kiss and parted ways.  I was within walking distance from my hostel in Ipanema so I slowly started to walk back.  I reached the hostel at the same time as the early birds were getting ready for a day full sightseeing and walking around.  It’s ironic that for most of people, sightseeing is the closest they ever come to learning a new city.  Most of the hostel’s guests spoke no Portuguese, with some speaking a bit of Spanish.  Many did not even attempt to learn any Portuguese; preferring to get by in English instead.  And how many gringos spent a night on the beach with a beautiful girl?  Not many considering most gringos would go out in groups and only talk among themselves.  For me the essence to know a new place lies with the people instead of monuments, statues or old buildings.  I entered my five-bed dorm, laid down and fell asleep almost instantly excited for what the next few days may bring.

I was in a middle of enjoying a delicious lamb shank with a light Devasa beer, one of Brazil’s finest in an eponymous bar and restaurant called Devasa, when I received a phone call.  It was her.  It was a balmy Rio evening and I was in Devasa’s Ipanema location having dinner with some friends from the hostel.  There was Chris, my partner in crime from the initial Lapa night, Mirella a tall Danish girl who’d recently broken up with her boyfriend, Pyng, her traveling partner of Thai decent, and me.  The food was delicious and the company even better, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Sabrina.  Mirella was beautiful but the thought of going after a foreigner while being in Brazil simply didn’t make sense.  It felt like cheating since you don’t bother learning the cultural differences nor the language at all.  To each is own.

I texted her shortly to see what she was up to.  “Tudo bem?” I asked not expecting a reply for at least an hour.  She called back instantly, immediately asking, “Tudo bom?” and then continuing with a barrage of words spoken so quickly that I missed all of them.  She sensed I was pretty much lost when I said that I will call her back.  In those early days in Brazil I preferred texting to calling since I could decipher most of the Portuguese when I saw it written in front of me.  Talking face to face is the next easiest because in addition to speech, your brain processes body language which is universal.  Talking on the phone with no way to read expressions is the hardest, and mastery of that would guarantee mastery of the language, from which I was miles away.

I texted her in my Portunol (a mixture of Spanish and Portuguese) asking if she wanted to meet later tonight.  Another cultural difference is that in Brazil things would move a lot faster; it’s normal to schedule a new date for the same or the next day when just meeting a person.  It took me a while to internalize this since coming from the States you’re used to waiting a few days as to not seem desperate.

She immediately replied that she would be able to meet in an hour in a specific juice bar close to where she lived.  It was Sunday, two days after I last saw her and the image of her beautiful smile was beginning to fade.  I was to looking forward to seeing her again.  While Chris knew who this was, the girls at the table were giggling and inquisitive of my new friend.  I’m not the person to kiss and tell, so I teased with them thus further fueling their desire to unravel the mystery.  I paid my check, walked out to the army of taxis waiting on the corner.  Not feeling too confident with my public transportation skills yet, and not wanting to be late, I grabbed the first taxi and explained to the driver my destination.  In a minute we were off heading to Copacabana.

I arrived early and helped myself to a ‘Laranja com Acerola’ which was my go-to juice when I was too overwhelmed to pick something from an array of at least fifty juices on the menus of juice bars scattered across Rio.  I was wearing my typical Rio “after dark” uniform: a pair of dark Diesel jeans, Asics black and white sneakers and a nice fitting plain t-shirt from Zara.  That’s pretty much all you need to go out in Rio, which makes things much simpler.

I was probably about half way done with my juice, when I saw her walking in the distance.  She was wearing a pair of nice jeans, a nice blouse, and high heels that made her about my height or even taller.  Most guys I know are generally uncomfortable being with taller women, but I love it.  It makes me more confident still.  She had a huge smile on her face, and immediately without saying a word gave me a passionate kiss followed by a warm hug.  The night definitely started off on a nice nice and I was not going to be disappointed.

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It was one of the most sensual kisses I’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing.  It felt just right, not too mushy, and none of the typical tongue gymnastics that one experiences with a Brazilian make out.  We made out for a few minutes, embracing each other while the other couple joked that we were not in the conversation anymore.  The girls went to the bathroom, and my young wingman and I were strategizing on what to do next.  It was getting late so we couldn’t bounce to another bar.  Nick suggested we go back to his place and chill in the roof terrace of his apartment complex with views overlooking the Copacabana beach.  It was a great idea, but I decided to feel out the general vibe before suggesting it.  The girls returned and Sabrina immediately embraced me from behind.  Thirty minutes ago we were complete strangers, awkwardly looking at each other, but now it seemed as though we’ve been together for quite some time.  It was getting late, so we left the bar, and hailed the cab.

I sat in the front, while the girls and Nick sat in the back.  Nick suggested that we head back to the rooftop of his apartment complex, but his girl was pretty much done for the night and insisted going back to her apartment in Copacabana.  On the way back to Zona Sul, I overheard Sabrina mentioning that she wanted to go to the beach.  Actually the only word I picked up was ‘praia’ (beach).  She touched me from behind as to confirm if I wanted to go with her.  It was three in the morning and the thought of going to the beach at that hour made me feel pretty uncomfortable.  This is Rio after all, and the beach will be pretty deserted at that time, I thought.  Probably not the smartest thing in the world to do.  On the other hand she is a local, so she’d probably know better whether it’ll be safe or not.  Besides, who was I kidding, I would be crazy to decline such a request for any reason.

We stopped at a quiet Copacabana neighborhood to let off the other girl.  Nick attempted to get out of the cab to try to come with her, but she was having nothing of it.  She just wasn’t into him and he knew it, yet he desperately tried to salvage the situation as hard as he could. The cab continued on the main Copacabana street passing by Nick’s apartment.  It was an end of his night, and what felt like a beginning of mine.  I opened the front door, and sat in the back joining Sabrina’s warm embrace.  She laid her head on my shoulder and directed the cab driver to Ipanema beach.  As we started to approach the beach, she advised the driver to drop us off in a lighted area.  The driver dropped us off near the popular Posto 9 beach post.

We got out of the car, and walked towards the sand hand in hand.  It was my first time on the beach this late at night.  Always feeling paranoid in those first weeks in Rio and especially at that hour, I started looking around for possible threats.  The area was well lit by a street lamp, but was pretty desolate except for open kiosk and some random passerby’s.  Directly in front of us near the shore, I saw a couple sitting on sand.  There were some people walking along the shore away from us.  To the left, I noticed about five teenage kids playing soccer.  I overheard them speaking Portuguese, but it was different than what I was used to.  Their accent was different as well as the speed at which they were speaking.  Favela kids, I thought.  They must’ve been from one of the hundreds of favelas (shantytowns) that surrounded Rio.  Vigigal, a favela that lay just past Leblon, one of the richest neighborhoods in Rio or even all of Brazil, was easily identifiable by hundreds of small glittering lights flickering in the distance.  Those kids could’ve come from there, or they could’ve been from Rocinha, the largest favela in South America consisting of 150,000 people (or more) that was located near Vigigal but more inland, sandwiched between “two brothers” – two mountains one a bit higher than the other that are visible on every photo taken by every tourist on Ipanema Beach.

We walked in the sand towards the ocean, and sat down not too far from the water.  Initially we sat next to each other studying each others’ faces, and admiring each other.  There was no games, no gimmicks.  We both knew we wanted each other. In America, a girl would try her hardest to hide her feelings from you, playing various games, testing you one way or another, but in Brazil, it’s simpler.  Sabrina spoke almost no English and my Portuguese consisted of my Spanish.  Ironically, the reason I knew Spanish was because long ago, I met a Brazilian girl in California who in addition to speaking Portuguese, also spoke Spanish.  So while I couldn’t learn both Portuguese and Spanish, at least I learned Spanish.  Sabrina smiled and sat in front me, in between my legs, resting her head on my chest.  I can’t recall what we talked about, perhaps not much needed to be said.  I picked up her up a few times jokingly teasing that I will throw her into the ocean.  We walked along the shore for a bit, promising that we would stay up until the sun came.  Even though she was always relaxed and feeling completely comfortable, I continued to worry that at any moment someone can run up to us and demand money or else.  The beach was more deserted than before, but we were never alone.  The favela kids had already left, but other people kept appearing in the distance and moving toward us.  I began to feel very uncomfortable and she could sense it.

(To be continued…)

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