Santa Teresa

Santa Teresa

Taking a rickety old tram, close to the centre of Rio de Janeiro, is perhaps the easiest most enjoyable way to reach the beautiful district of Santa Teresa. The local Cariocas sometimes cling to the sides of the arthritic contraption to avoid paying the fair, which may seem a pittance to some, but in Brazil where the divide between the extremely rich and extremely poor seems so great…it is understandable.

An historical, picturesque part of the city, Santa Teresa is a place ‘frozen in another time’ where the buildings are stained with tropical fungi that cling relentlessly to the blue Portuguese tiles, white-washed walls and fading paint. The local people will tell you with pride that Ronald Biggs, an eccentric train robber, lived here for many years, and their colourful anecdotes are both highly amusing and informative. I can imagine an aging train robber living in a place like this; the place hints at a decadent past and although some of the very grand houses remain intact, they are overgrown with various flowers and creepers. This adds to the bohemian atmosphere of the place and it is a fitting that many artists have made this place their home.

In fact the little shops and café-restaurants that adorn Santa Teresa’s narrow, uneven streets are filled with interesting curiosities and work by local artists, ranging from Papier-mâché sculptures of voluptuous, red lipped women to earthy paintings of the Favela itself in its ever changing moods. The modern graffiti that can be found round every bend also adds to the charm of the place – because it is surprisingly skilful and tasteful – rather than the random tagging scrawled across London’s streets.

If you have time to kill – a wandering painter might offer to make you an original painting – and it is at a moment like this where you will benefit from speaking Portuguese or a Latin language. I met an interesting man, in a dishevelled blue-grey suit, clutching his palate, paints and canvases under his arm and smoking a curiously shaped pipe. His skin was the colour of toasted coffee beans and his hair was curly and greying at the temples. He was splashed with flecks of oil paint and his fingers and fingernails speckled with acrylic. The overall effect was that he seemed as much apart of the place as the buildings themselves. The most interesting thing about him…was his easy grace and the fact that he wasn’t wearing any shoes. Despite my best efforts…the opportunity to converse with someone full of local history passed…but I admired his lyrical voice and friendly smile. However, I would feel much richer if I had been able to chat with him awhile, ask questions and watch him paint.

The place is small and there is not much to do apart from sipping cold beer in one of the cafés or sampling some of the fine Brazilian cooking available…but I still found myself fully absorbed for hours…before the threat of rain finally caused me to make a hasty retreat back to my hotel.

Santa Teresa was perhaps my favourite part of Rio…and I will post pictures here soon when I have finished editing them.