It’s January 2nd when I’m writing this. I’m sitting at an exquisite rooftop bar overlooking the historical suburb of Santa Teresa, in the uphills of Rio de Janeiro. The weather is ideal, slightly cloudy with the sun peeking through intermittently to share a warm hello. This isn’t the first time I have visited Brazil or Rio. In fact, it’s my third, and just the same as the last two visits, I feel that I’m leaving a part of my soul behind, one that will scratch and pull at my heartstrings until I return.

Since 2018, when I visited as a short-haired, scruffy-looking backpacker with more debt in my credit card than cash, I have longed to relive those hot and happy days in Ipanema, or walking through different neighborhoods hearing music blaring from unseen speakers, coaxing wanderers with their bouncy beats and impossibly contagious drum beats. That was then, this is now.

I can now say my experience visiting Rio is different, not “it took a turn for the worse” kind of different, but rather, more illuminating. Luckily, with age, my bank account has grown so rather than crossing my fingers for my credit card to go through, or doing bits and bobs of freelancing jobs, I can comfortably pay up. Phew, now that’s a game-changer. This also means I can visit more museums, eat well, join a tour or two, and buy presents for my loved ones (it’s my love language). I can avoid staying in places where the main source of ventilation on a stuffy night is opening a window and risking a barata flying in. True story, I now have a phobia of cockroaches because on one disastrous night in Brazil, one flew into a hostel I was resting at, and crawled on top of my foot.

That was then, this is now.

Back in 2018, I was in a perpetual state of dreaminess and awe of being in carnaval, sloppily dancing samba, and drinking one too many caipirinhas in Lapa. I saw the disparities, but I wasn’t quite yet an ardent social reformer and activist who could eloquently have fervent discussions with cordiality. And once you go through your journey of anti-racism, feminism, [insert any other -ism], you can’t unsee it. Rio, post-pandemic, post-Bolsonaro, aka the devil, has grown to be an even more inequitable city. It’s not too unlike the US with its slew of issues with police, racism being disgustingly prevalent, attacks on trans folx, environmental destruction, heavy remnants of colonialism, and the list goes on and on.

Y’all should know by now that at any mention of a social justice issue, I can digress, so I’m centering back.

I’ve now moved to a garden space with waving palm and mango trees and hushed conversations. A line of hard-working ants are running through a tiny trail they’ve created and I’m mindful of my massive presence next to them. Today is my last day, and I’m in a state of anticipatory nostalgia. My body and soul are here, but my mind is now wandering back home, thinking of work, my dog, my family, the cold, and the comforts of home. My belly is content as I’ve had enough freshly squeezed orange juice to fill me up for a lifetime, accompanied by a hefty amount of salgadinhos.

The people. Oh, Brazilian people. They’re always the main highlight of my visits and truly unforgettable. I like to think of Brazilians as warm individuals with a lot to say and a giving nature that is incomparable. It is also the easiest country I can take photos of people because they NEVER say no. And not only is their spiritual nature enviable, but their physicality as well. Years of colonial plundering and pillaging led to one of the most racially diverse societies in the world. It’s not uncommon to see a red-headed Afro-Brazilian with family members that have indigenous and European blood– imagine that?

My departure time is inching closer and I’m trying to put my final thoughts into words. Monkeys! I’m not sure how I didn’t notice this last time, but there are monkeys jumping all around and it’s always a hilarious encounter. When I first arrived, I was steeped in fear of being robbed or hurt and after three painfully stressful days, I vowed to chill the fuck out and enjoy what I could while not being careless. My experience with thieves was… non-existent. I didn’t feel a looming danger or fear but I also didn’t put myself in situations or places that were not recommended. So, just be mindful of your things and don’t make stupid decisions.

Rio, I love you. I love how in such a massive sprawling place, you house many contradictions, each more complex than the one before. You’re multidimensional and aren’t afraid to be the loudest of them all. I wish you were closer to me so I could frequently visit that part of my soul that you stole from me 7 years ago. But don’t worry, my love for you has only grown even more and I won’t be waiting that long to visit again.

Saudade de você.