The most significant memory of my business trip to Rio in 1995 was the people. I recall sitting in a restaurant with a view of Iponema beach with my work colleague Peter. It was a very relaxed evening and we were enjoying a few Brahmas and there was a little girl trying to sell some street jewelry. The autumn evening was winding down and I remember watching a young man and lady chatting to one another on the beach. They may have just finished playing beach volleyball, but it was now just the two of them. The light was fading but they were in no rush to leave the beach. There was no party going on, they weren’t drinking, nor trying to impress each other. They were simply enjoying each other’s company and having a conversation. Even if there were distractions, I don’t think it would have changed the in-the-moment simplicity of human connection. This beautiful human moment was one of the reasons I named my son Rio. It was something I saw a few times in Rio, a natural, relaxed way of life, little interest in glitz or glamour. Many of the locals didn’t have a lot, but they enjoyed what they did have, friends, food and drink and a beautiful place in the world.
The second memory of Rio that stays with me is the language. I stayed at a superb hotel right on Copacabana Beach. It had the old world tradition of holding your room key for you when you left the hotel - perhaps for safety reasons as Rio is quite a dangerous place (I remember being driven to my hotel after working at the office - after dark my host doesn't stop at red lights). So every time I returned to the hotel after a day at the host’s office or siteseeing, I would have to ask for my room key. My room number was 2906 and I took pleasure in trying to pronounce it properly in Portuguese - Vinte e nove zero seis. But my language skills failed me when I was trying to buy a dress for my wife at a shopping mall closer to the city centre. To get there I had to walk through a long tunnel from Copacabana. I had left my watch and passport in my hotel room and was on high alert for the dangerous walk. It was perhaps a little foolish, but I lived to tell this story.
One of the other memorable parts of my time in Rio was enjoying the fantastic skewed meat at a Brazilian BBQ (churrascaria) restaurant. Like many of these restaurants now found around the world, the food is usually all-you-can-eat and I made a valent attempt at getting my money’s worth over the few hours - on TWO occasions during the week. I recall walking into the restaurant and noticing a large man heartedly enjoying his meal, when we left he was still there and hadn’t appeared to have slowed down one bit!
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