Seen Through Black Eyes

I cannot recall what time of the year it was, but I believe it was in 1993, and I was excited to be embarking on my second solo trip to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. While I did not get to fall in lust with any carioca on my first visit a year earlier, I had fallen in love with the vibrant city and its lively culture during my first visit, and I was eager to rectify the former while revisiting the latter.

As the plane descended towards Rio's Galeão International Airport, I gazed out the window at the breathtaking landscape below. The city is nestled between the Atlantic Ocean and the towering peaks of the Tijuca Forest, a vast expanse of lush rainforest that seemed to go on forever.

As soon as I arrived at the airport, I could feel the energy of the city pulsing through my veins. I took a deep breath, savoring the warm, humid air, and made my way through customs and baggage claim, eager to get out and explore.

I had booked a room in an apart-hotel (pre-Airbnb) in the heart of Copacabana, one of Rio's most famous neighborhoods. As I walked through the crowded streets, taking in the sights and sounds of the city, I felt a sense of exhilaration wash over me. The colorful houses, the lively music, and the smiling faces of the locals all seemed to be inviting me to join in on the fun.

I arrived at my apartment and checked in, which had a small balcony overlooking the bustling streets and Copacabana beach below. I quickly unpacked my bags and set out to explore.

As I walked along the beach, I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the beauty of the place. The white sand seemed to stretch on forever, and the waters of the Atlantic shimmered in the bright sunshine. I rented a beach chair complete with an umbrella to protect me from the strong Brazilian sun (and yes, the sun can be so strong that it feels like Brazil has its own sun) and watched as people played soccer, swam, surfed in the waves, and of course…people watched.

The women on Copacabana beach were absolutely stunning, with their toned bodies and radiant smiles. Many of them were wearing bikinis that barely covered their curves, and golden skin glistening in the sun while others wore string bikinis (a.k.a fio dental) that revealed even more.

They moved gracefully through the sand, their long hair blowing in the breeze. It was hard to take my eyes off them as they laughed and played in the waves, their beauty radiating from within. They seemed to embody the carefree spirit of the beach, their joy and confidence contagious to those around them. As I watched them, I couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration and envy for their beauty and confidence. It was a sight that I would always remember, the beautiful women of Copacabana shining like diamonds in the sun.

As the day turned to evening, (and a quick shower and change of clothes) I made my way to Lapa, a neighborhood known for its nightlife. I wandered through the narrow streets, taking in the sights and sounds of the lively bars and clubs. Everywhere I went, I was greeted by friendly locals who seemed eager to share their culture with me.

I eventually found myself at a small bar in a hidden corner of the neighborhood, where I spent the rest of the night people watching and sparingly using the little Portuguese that I knew. As the night drew to a close, I made my way back to my apartment, exhausted but exhilarated by the experience.

The next few days were a blur of adventure as I explored every corner of the city. I hiked through the Tijuca Forest, marveling at the breathtaking views from the top of the peaks. I visited the iconic Christ the Redeemer statue (Corcovado), standing tall above the city and offering a panoramic view of the surroundings. I sampled the local cuisine, trying everything from feijoada, a hearty black bean stew, to churrasco, a traditional Brazilian barbecue (that I mentioned in the last Podcast), to pastel com queijo.

One of the highlights of my trip was a visit to the favelas, the impoverished neighborhoods that dotted the hillsides of Rio. I had heard so much about these communities, and I was eager to see them for myself. Needless to say, I went there with a guide...a young lady…new friend. I had a little trepidation about visiting the favela, but I am here to tell the story…so that means I survived the experience.

As I walked through the narrow streets, I was struck by the resilience and spirit of the people who lived there. Despite their difficult circumstances, they seemed to be living their lives to the fullest, dancing and singing and enjoying each other's company. I was moved by their warmth and generosity, and I left feeling grateful for the opportunity to get to know them.

The highlight of the trip came next. I was invited to a friend's son's birthday party while I was in Rio de Janeiro, and it was really a fun and memorable experience. I arrived at the party with my friend who introduced me to his son and many of the guests. As I made my way around the party, I kept catching the eye of a young lady with golden skin, an inviting smile, and shy and coy deminer, but with a body of a grown ass woman. She was absolutely sexy, and I did all I could to make sure she knew I was watching her.

As the party went on, I made my way to her side of the room and began chatting and learning more about her. We hit it off right away and ended up spending the rest of the evening talking and laughing.

With my beginner’s level Portuguese and her rudimentary level English I could see that she was witty and intelligent, with a sharp sense of humor. We hit it off immediately, and I found myself drawn to her.

As the party began to wind down, she mentioned that she was leaving with her friends, and we parted ways. I berated myself for not getting her contact information and tried to convinced myself that this experience was the stepping stone evening for a confidence boost for me to slay the next encounter with the next young lady.

From the party I made my way to the nearby night spot. After about an hour of people watching, talking with a couple of young ladies I saw what I thought was a familiar face, smile, and other body parts. Then it hit me: she was the young lady that I met earlier that night at the party. We had actually run into each other twice in the same night. This had to be a sign from the gods.

Once again, I made my way over to her. She seemed generally pleased that I found her and we talked, drank, danced, and had a great time together. As the night drew to a close, we found ourselves alone in a dark corner booth with our bodies moving in sync to the music. Once she sat on my lap…I knew it was a rap. It was then that I knew I wanted to be more than just friends with this amazing woman.

As we left the nightclub and made our way back to my apartment, I couldn't believe how well the night had gone. I had met someone Miss Right…now, and I was excited to see where things might go between us.

When we arrived at my apartment, we couldn't keep our hands off each other. Here’s the thing…she brought her friend along who I thought might be there as a “BLOCKER.” But she wasn’t. She brought her friend along as a protectorate. Her friend sat in the living room of the apartment pretending to watch TV…read...or whatever while she and I went behind closed doors.

We spent the night wrapped up in each other's arms, exploring every inch of each other's bodies. Her nipples were firm and erect and sat in a special place on my tongue. My double X hands completely engulfed her firm breast. The sounds she made was as if she was making love to my ears. We explored each other’s bodies three or four times that night. I kept saying to myself, this just doesn’t happen to me…but it is.

Over the next few days, we saw each other every a few more times before I returned to the US.

Looking back on that night at the birthday party and the nightclub, I can't believe how our paths crossed twice in one evening. It was a chance encounter that led to something truly special, and I am grateful every day for the amazing woman I met that night.

As my trip came to a close, I couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness at the thought of leaving Rio. The city and this young lady had captured my heart and I knew that I would always have this as a cherished memory.

It goes without saying that this trip was a far cry from my first trip to Rio and I am so glad that I went a second time. For the record, the second time to Rio, turned to a third, fourth, fifth and so one and so on.

When I combine my trips to Brazil for work and pleasure, I have been to Brazil about 30 times, and I am grateful for each and every visit.

END.