In Defense of Rio, From an American Who Lived There

We’ve all heard about the threat of Zika, the unfinished rail lines, and the frightening crime stats. But we haven’t heard about the friendly locals, the city’s vibrant energy, or the fan spirit. And it’s a damn shame.

I moved to Rio as a teenager in 2007 and even then the narrative was the same. When my family announced our move we were met with wide eyes and worried faces: “Isn’t it super dangerous there?” “I’ve heard it’s not very clean.” “You’re moving to a third-world country?”

My mom was among them (the move would be for my dad’s job). We took a short trip there before making our final decision and were immediately captivated.

In our three years of living there, we had no major problems with crime. Once, a group of young street boys tried to grab my groceries, but it was pretty pathetic. Oh, and I was pick-pocketed in a large crowd, but that was my own damn fault. Generally, I walked around and felt pretty safe as a young girl. My dad, who sticks out like a sore thumb as a white, burly Texan, didn’t feel particularly targeted as a “gringo.” Living in a metropolitan area takes common sense. Don’t venture to certain areas at night. Avoid taking the late bus alone. Leave your flashy jewelry at home. Be aware of your surroundings. All of which apply to any major city in America.

I’m well aware that I lived a privileged life while abroad. I lived in an upscale neighborhood and went to a private school. I socialized with Brazil’s upper class and went to the beach at Ipanema’s “Posto 9.” But I also passed through Rio’s largest favela everyday to get to school. I took taxis by myself and stayed out far later than I should have. I often explored the city alone and soaked up every bit of its culture, including becoming fluent in Portuguese. And I fell in love with Brazil in the process.

Rio’s people (called “Cariocas”) are some of the warmest and friendliest you’ll ever meet. Throw out a couple of Portuguese phrases and they’ll be even more impressed. The food — from salgadinhos to feijoada — is incredible. (Not to mention that their drunk food is sushi, which I am there for 100%.) Turn one direction and you’ll see mountains, the other, ocean. Of course Brazil is so much bigger than just Rio, and as much as I traveled nationally, I only scratched the surface. But what struck me the most about Brazilians, and what I will always carry with me, is their enthusiasm for life.

Whether they are the haves or the have nots, they find a way to be happy. They appreciate the everyday beauty around them — whether it’s the sound of the waves or the love of a family member or their soccer team scoring a goal. Try and talk shit about Brazil and a local will likely defend it. Only they can talk shit because they love it so. For all its flaws — and there are many — it will always hold a special place in my heart.

Which is why I ask you to open your heart to Brazil. Journalists: Get to know the locals and their way of life without a preconceived narrative. Balance out coverage of poverty, drugs, and corruption with stories of culture, triumph, and camaraderie. Americans: Seek out these stories. Get to know Brazil beyond the fearful headlines. Eat some Brazilian food or book a trip there and see for yourself. Olympic spectators: Drink a fresh coconut water on the beach. Take a hike and soak up the views atop Pedra da Gavea. Grab a beer at a boteco and chat up a local. Give this beautiful, complicated city a chance.