Rio Mornings

August 8, 2009

Everything gets cleaned early Saturday morning in Rio.  All along the sidewalks you can hear brooms pushing soapy water along the stones.  Men lean out  windows and shine the surfaces, bodiless hands holding rags sticking out between the bars separating the apartments from the street.

The sunshine scrubs cariocas of whatever they did last night, starting clean on the white beach, running, walking, chatting, drinking agua de coco.

Scott and I bounced around last night. We had dinner outside at the plastic tables at the Cobal da Humaita.  We walked over to the Cinematique and saw a Brazilian rock indie band.  It was awesome–a  little too cheesy and happy, but the band members were wearing the right hipster jeans and t-shirts, Vans and Converse.  The lead singer kicked when he should, and aside from the words being in Portuguese, we could have been on the Lower East Side.  From there we went to Lapa, which was even more packed than usual, drums thrumping under the arches and waves of cariocas danced, drank, and filled the streets.


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