the roof with a view

If there’s one thing that sold me on this apartment, it was that I’d be able to do what I’m doing now: typing this while looking out on Rio by night. I’m 13 stories up, one more if you count the last rickety metal staircase that leads from our veranda to the roof deck, facing the calm lights of Santa Teresa (a picturesque, bohemian, very un-Rio-like neighborhood) and watching the cars roll down Largo do Machado.

Rio is not quiet, even by night and several stories up from the street. This is true at any time, but especially true early on a Saturday evening, when people are gearing up to go out and bars blare music to attract the first early patrons. There’s street noise, and sky noise from the airplanes landing somewhere around. There’s music, funny unidentified noises (I swear I keep hallucinating that my cellphone is ringing), and I just heard a few sharp pops that could have been a car backfiring, or hidden firecrackers, or gunshots — hard to be sure. I still haven’t gotten used to the hours here, and since I’m not planning on spending my entire day tomorrow baking in the sun (silly me…), I’ll probably end up wishing I had taken a siesta (sesta) instead of writing this.

For the first time in almost a year I am no longer living out of a suitcase. It’s a little strange to think that I’ll be here for 9 months — until December. It seems like such a long time to spend in one place. But Rio is fascinating, and complex, and every time I think I understand how things work here something happens to remind me that there’s still more stuff worth knowing. I’ve been here a bit over a month now, and I know I’m just getting started.

And I love the apartment, in spite of the fact that parts of it are a little run-down, the walls are a rather awful peachy color, and the only light switch in my bedroom is located across the room from the door and exactly 14 inches from the ground. This view is why. The Christ on my left, weirdly white as always, hills and apartment buildings all around, Sugar Loaf behind me if I bothered to turn around to look, and the rabbit scurrying across a nearly full mooon. 9 months? Bring it on.