The city

There are two ways one can talk about Rio. 

Say for example that when getting there you are greeted by green hills of impossible shapes rising above busy streets, bustling beaches, loud bars and colourful favelas on top of wealthy neighborhoods. That it is divided in zona norte, where a foreigner would rarely go, if not for the Maracana vibe, and zona sul, with its Ipanema, Copacabana, Botafogo, Flamengo, Urca, Santa Teresa, Rocinha, Saude, each name bearing a different flavour to the visitor.

Or say, like that man from Ipanema, that as a young man, on a warm autumn afternoon, he landed in a city where looking from Pao de Açucar beaches were glowing in gold, where beautiful people were smiling and kind, and beach vendors offered bikinis, caipirinhas, pasteles, handbags, jewelry and nearly anything else.

All while Christ the Redeemer kept an eye on drinks, dances, thefts, chats and loves.

And that on that afternoon, many good things could happen to him. That many roads opened up to him there. And that whichever road he would take, it would be certainly one of those Rio had offered to him.