Dudurudh

We’ve settled into a routine these days, the kitties and I, as part of which I spend the time it takes for my coffee to drip by cleaning and refilling their feeding bowls as they patiently chase their own tails for a while without bothering me. In a while they’ll climb on the water filter behind me and sing a chorus of meows, urging me to refill faster or at least feed them a snack to pass the time. 

I’m coming back to this morning routine after a short vacation in Brazil. In Rio, the pace of life is different. One mid-morning I saw a lanky youth in a football jersey and a pot bellied man in a crinkly shirt unbuttoned to his mid riff strolling in havianas through those cobblestoned neighborhoods with no apparent destination in mind. The palm leaves were still cradling some raindrops from earlier and the mist was cuffing time in suspended animation. The boy was holding a phone and the man, a bag of groceries and beer. They crossed each other and walked only a few feet when the man yelled something in Portuguese. The boy turned and replied uninterestedly. This back and forth went on a few times until the man broke into a full lunged laugh and the boy, into what could be broadly categorized as a smile. It’s the kind of unremarkable conversation I used to have in India with random uncles near my house or on the bus or outside SLV when time didn’t seem to be at the premium it is today. Even these streets are like home. Uncurated. Raw. Many cities in one, operating in chaotic congruence. This is a beach city. A big city. A busy city. From almost anywhere you can see the two hilltops they call Morro Dois Irmãos. When the clouds part, you can see Christ on the mountain top, arms wide open, himself admiring the Pão de Aç and the vast ocean beyond it. On the scenic tram ride up that hill all you see is moist leaves of large ferns hanging from the damp, mossed-lined mud hills covered in the dense canopy of green vines between tropical trees and tiny streams of water below. Marvelous. Cidade Maravilhosa. 

São Paulo, on the other hand, feels a lot like the older, foreign-settled cousin that India’s metropolis’s want to be. Wide roads, clean streets, big buildings, aesthetic houses with tall gates (often two), cars (many cars), two airports, contributing 80% of Brazil’s GDP and fantastic weather to boot. Coming back to a frigid NYC felt like a downgrade. But don’t worry New York, I’ll get over it. I love you deeply still.