Texto de Nancy de Lustoza Barros e Hirsch na revista para a comunidade de expatriados de língua inglesa no Rio de Janeiro.
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Umbrellas
Some experiences turn
to lessons very quickly: never plan to stay in Rio de Janeiro during vacations in
January. It rains. Better yet, it pours. A few of you will remember the first
Rock in Rio music festival: George Benson, Yes and a lost pair of shoes, as it
would not budge from the fist thick mud. After the show, the alternative was
taking a bus to São Paulo and spend the rest of the leisure days by a swimming
pool at a cousin’s. Not an option. Young and restless, no other place compares
to Rio, even while there is this crazy guy surfing the flooded waters in Baixo
Gávea.
A mystery to be solved
when it rains: where do all those vendors carrying umbrellas come from? Do they
hide in dark alleys, sneaking up the skies, and begging for dark clouds, day
in, day out? And where do they store their arsenal? They are so fast! All of a
sudden pedestrians in need bump into them right as the first fat splashy
hurtful drop of rain turns into a blob on your smart garment while in the
centre of the city interviewing for a job – yeah, it is the beginning of the
year, and there is a list of promises to be fulfilled.
Women in general
suffer the most from the ravages of rain. They wear thin shifts that vanish
under water. The hair turns into whatever; the high heeled sandals become
drenched, start to squish, and as luck would have it, eventually, one of the
tiny leather straps goes bust.
Picture yourself in
the middle of Largo da Carioca, the furious summer wind channeling from the
sea, the Portuguese stones transforming into soap — let us not even get started
on the ghastly job of the guys that place the black and white pieces on the
sidewalk —, the safety under the marquises being disputed inch by precious
inch…
You have to think
quick: the tube, a bus or a taxi back home? Alright, forget the latter, taxis
are a fig of imagination at times like that… The guy sporting three hundred and
ninety eight umbrellas on his arms approaches. Is he reliable? How much this
artifact is going to cost? After having negotiated not the price but the
cavities of your purse, the protection in white with little black cats opened
and fervently grabbed, you part in the direction of Avenida Rio Branco. As you
bend the corner, so does the umbrella over itself.
Foto: deviantart.
