Another time, somewhere on a terrace in Rio
You Can’t STAY THERE!!!
It was time for me to say goodbye to my friends in Curitiba and make my way to Rio de Janeiro. It was early morning, and I had arranged for a taxi to take me to the airport. I had tried to book accommodation in advance in Rio, and imparted the information to my friend in Rio. Within seconds of sending off the information I received a reply “ You can not stay there, change your hotel.” “Whatever for?” Was my reply, “It’s near Copacabana, Flamengo, that area, what’s wrong with it?” 10 seconds later ‘ping’ “YOU CANNOT STAY THERE!” “Why not? Give me a reason.” “FINE!” was the one-word reply, and I waited. 10 seconds later “The hotel you have booked is on a dangerous street, and only about 40 meters away from where there was a shoot-out between the police and drug dealers a few days ago, and 4 people died. Reason enough?” Yup, I would call that a pretty good reason for cancelling the reservation and looking for something more chill, with a bit less ‘action’. I searched for a while and came up with a few different suggestions, each of which I passed by my friend, who finally agreed to one of the places I suggested. It was conveniently located near Flamengo Beach, and my friend’s apartment was within walking distance. Several restaurants were located nearby, as was a good supermarket, which I fully intended on visiting as I was finding out that Brazil is expensive – a subsequent meal in a “pay-by-weight” restaurant set me back more than $30 US, and I wasn’t even full (this didn’t include any drinks).
Night time view from the balcony of the apartment in Rio.
The safety of a gated community
I made the flight from Curitiba to Rio with a stop-over in Sao Paolo; it was a cheap flight and only marginally more expensive than a bus trip, and to be honest I had had enough of bus trips for a while – a 2-hour trip I could handle, but a 20-hour trip just was not going to happen. Arriving at the airport it was not difficult to find the bus terminal and from there a bus that would take me to within 50 metres of my accommodation. I arrived at the entrance and noticed the gates that surrounded all the nearby buildings. This building was no exception, and a guard booth was situated inside the gate. I stood for a few moments, trying to see how I could get in until someone actually opened the gate for me and waved for me to enter. I still could not go very much further, as I had no idea what floor the apartment was on, but at least I was off the street and within the premises. I observed the comings and goings of residents for a while, and finally managed to make contact with the apartment owner; someone would be down in a few minutes to meet me and take me upstairs. Great, I needed a shower, and just to orient myself for a bit before venturing forth into the city or doing anything else.
The beach at Flamengo, Rio de Janeiro
I heeded the warning of my friends and only ventured to the beach area near the apartment and strolled around for nearly an hour before returning to take a shower and get ready for dinner and an event – the launch of a designer furniture and home décor fair. I managed to find the correct subway stops and subsequent bus lines to reach the vicinity of the event. All this time I had been observing the way people lived, and the apartment buildings that lined the streets, and each and every one of them was gated with a guard booth of some sort, and I realized what it was that had struck me as odd when I had been walking through the streets. As people approached the entrances, they would look around them, to the left and right and behind, and cautiously open the gate, or stand with their back to the gate, keeping an eye on the street while the guard in the booth opened the gate, and once inside, whoever it was that had just been admitted, would make sure that the gate had shut and locked properly before they continued inside to their apartment. Similarly, as they were leaving, they would carefully look around before opening the gate and exiting the building perimeter, and they would again pause and pull the gate closed behind them, making sure it locked closed before they moved on.
A nearby museum and art gallery, Flamengo, Rio de Janeiro
Life behind a shut gate
Maybe I am over analyzing, or perhaps it was just in this particular area, but it really was noticeable, and there were certain buildings which had a double gate or ‘security’ box for the entrance to the car park, with cars entering one gate, waiting for it to close behind them before the next gate would open to allow them either to enter or exit. And so, despite the wonderful time at the grand opening of the designer furniture that evening, where everyone was worth at least a few million dollars (except for me), I came to realize that behind the laughter and the smiles and gaiety, there lies hidden a concern for safety and security, and once people leave such a gathering, their biggest concern is how to safely return to their homes without incident. I would ask my self the same question several times over the next few days, and always came up with the same answer: Rio de Janeiro, beautiful as it is, with beaches that are the envy of the world, and pulsing with life 24/7, is not necessarily a place where I would voluntarily want to live for any length of time; life is too short to have to worry constantly about personal safety.
