THE GIRL FROM SANTA TERESA
“Tall and tan and young and lovely, the girl from Ipanema goes walking…”
But not this one.
Far removed from the glitzy opulence of Ipanema with its sandy beaches and Thong-clad, long-legged beauties, this girl peeps her head out of a bar window in the semi-decayed neighborhood of Santa Teresa.
I wonder what she’s thinking about?
Is it the future of her city after the Olympics buzz has faded into memory? The sticky business of Brazil’s politics?
Or perhaps it is the ever changing fortunes of her crumbling neighborhood?
Located just slightly off and above Rio’s old center, Santa Teresa was once the playground of the rich and famous. Its narrow and steep alleys lined with posh villas. Its upper-class residence looking down, literally, on 19th century Rio from the safety of their well-protected houses.
These days are long gone.
The city expanded. The wealthy moved away. Santa Teresa fell into decrepitude. It was safely deteriorating into just another Favela when its luck turned yet again. Rediscovered by Rio’s artists and hipsters, the old quarter got a new lease on life. This time as a bohemian hotspot.
Back to the picture
I took it one late morning while navigating Santa Teresa’s web of alleyways with Elkana. Like the neighborhood, his personal story is also one of transition. Elkana is a former Yeshiva boy who traded his Yarmulke for a ponytail and started a new life in Rio. Marrying a local samba dancer, Elkana is now a full member of Rio’s prosperous Carnival scene. And when the carnival business slows down a bit he also doubles up as a very accommodating guide to the more discrete corners of the city.
The both of us were walking the deserted streets of Santa Teresa (1 pm is just way too early for most residents around these quarters) when a semi-sleepy owner slowly opened the windows of her bar. As the white wooden shutters hinged outwards, I saw this little figurine. She was looking dreamingly, perhaps reminiscing about things only wooden girls could understand. I didn’t think much. I grabbed my camera instinctively and took one photo. Walking down the alley, I found myself humming a timeless Bossa Nova tune.
“…And when she passes, I smile, but she doesn’t see. She just doesn’t see.”