her name was rio


The siren song of Rio de Janeiro is difficult to resist. With its warm climate and even warmer people it’s easy to do nothing here. In fact I’ve been doing nothing for far too long. This city is an intoxicating mistress.

Far away from the stressful working life I left behind I find myself lost in the simplest routines, with many of my days spent on the beach lazily watching the bronze bodies swing and sway their way to the sea. Intently observing the constant minute adjustments made to bikinis protecting sacred tan lines and trudging 20 ft. across the sand to get a sandwich from the Uruguayans camped out next to lifeguard tower 9, by the end of the day I’m somehow exhausted. While my nights are spent drinking beer with the friends I’ve made and learning Portuguese at a rate I’m a bit embarrassed about I feel like I’ve been gently woven into the fabric of this city.

I’m one of them. I don’t show up on time, I don’t call when I say I’m going to call, in fact I don’t care about much of anything but getting a good spot on the beach, a good cup of matte and meeting the next girl of my dreams. My friends tell me I’m Amerioca (American/Carioca). Carioca being the name given to people who are native to Rio de Janeiro. I can think of no greater compliment.


There’s a song called ‘Maneiras’ performed by Brazilian musician Zeca Pagodinho (and I think written by: Silvio da Silva) which starts:

“Se eu quiser fumar eu fumo, Se eu quiser beber eu bebo”

“If I want to smoke I smoke, If I want to drink I drink”


These words for me, sum up the Cariocas and their attitude toward life. An attitude that stresses life is to be lived and enjoyed to its fullest. Pleasure is the ultimate pursuit.

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her name was riothe Amazon by bus, a photographic travel journal

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