Austin to Africa, Brasil to the Bay: santa teresa

Showing posts with label santa teresa. Show all posts

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Vision

Street art in Santa Teresa, Rio de Janeiro.

Monday, August 01, 2011

I am such a sucker for a well-used small space. This outdoor area at the back of a wee historic atelier in Santa Teresa was simply brilliant. A pool, tables, a sink and counter for making cocktails and a snack, and plenty of plants - all without feeling overcrowded. I love the modern, clean look, quite unexpected in the midst of such a neoclassical, antique-y, bohemian neighborhood. Plus, who can resist a space like this with such a gorgeous view of downtown Rio?

Sunday, July 17, 2011

The Rose Chapter

The other night I indulged in a pity party on my mother-in-law's veranda, a good half hour of hot tears and thick, wailing sobs provoked by the impending sale of the Casa Rosa. I thought about the parties I'd never throw, the atelier I'd never have, the friends I'd never make, the sense of community that would remain forever fleeting. It felt like I'd somehow failed, given up not only on my bohemian dream life in Santa Teresa, but given up on Brazil.

And then, after that good crying session, there was a shift. I was sad, yes, but it was as if a fog had lifted and I could suddenly see the bigger picture. Casa Rosa was but a chapter (and a wonderful one, without question) in a much greater story, one in which I wasn't the lone protagonist but a member of an interconnected cast. Selling the house was a collective decision for a collective good. A shared future. Family.

At the end of the day a house is just a house, no matter how spectacular the salmon pink Neoclassical columns or the crystal chandeliers or the banana grove in the winter garden. It's okay to say goodbye and move on, even if your dreams and plans involved a different ending.

I frequently remind myself that selling the Casa Rosa doesn't mean that I've lost my traveler's spirit, that I've abandoned my international lifestyle, that I've become somehow less special because I don't call Santa Teresa home. A house is not an identity, and if it has become one, priorities should be reexamined. A house is just a house, and it is a welcome feeling of lightness to move on, to simplify, to let go of attachments.

I feel satisfied, centered, at peace. It's not the address or the neighborhood or even the country that matter, it's who you are with. I am looking forward to the next chapter, full of family and friends, at home at Casa Cali or wherever else the story takes us.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Farewell to the Garden

One of my favorite aspects of the Casa Rosa is the internal courtyard. The banana grove, the lion head fountain, the mini pool, the pedra portuguesa that replicates the paving pattern of Copacabana beach... Some of the features were there when we bought the house, but much of the current look is thanks to upgrades we made over the years. Perfect for a garden party. Happily we've had many a great festa in that courtyard, the crowning glory being our wedding reception. :)

Monday, July 11, 2011

Jet Lag and News of a Sale

Traveling East is always so much harder for me than traveling West in terms of jet lag. Although I love to sleep, I really dislike sleeping in (strange, I know) so the fact that I'm not tired at night and then sleep until 10 or 11 in the morning is really hard for me to manage. It makes me feel like I've wasted half the day, and there's nothing I can do about it until I've adjusted to the new time zone (by which time, of course, it's time to go home).

At least my jet lag is compatible with our social schedule here. Cariocas like late nights, and nearly every day we've arrived home between 11pm and 2am after birthday parties and bar outings. We've had a chance to catch up with many friends and relatives, which has been wonderful. A welcome balance to dealing with the Casa Rosa and the general stress of trying to get a few too many things done in a short number of days.

The big news is that it seems the house has sold. Rico and I literally set foot in the Casa Rosa last Monday and the phone rang with the offer. We were getting ready to do our 'despedida' photo shoot when the news came, which gave a bittersweet but ultimately very satisfying sense of closure. I wonder if you'll be able to see that look in my face in the photos? Our photographer is on holiday, so we're anxiously awaiting the proofs when he returns.

We've managed to tie up a lot of loose ends in the last week. The house seemingly has sold (still have to close, so it's not a 100% done deal yet), we've sorted out our housekeeper/caseira B.'s situation and hooked her up with another job, we've sold/donated/moved most of the furniture that was still in the house, and in general it feels like a clean end to the chapter. It's so incredibly nice to simplify and move on while the moving is good, even if it's hard to say farewell to such a special house.

Here are a few photos from our trip thus far:

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Good Times with Good People

One of my favorite things about the Casa Rosa is that over the years we were able to host so many friends, friends-of-friends, and relatives. Here's a few memories.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Despedida Rosa

Selling Casa Rosa has stirred up such complicated feelings for me. The most similar feeling I've had is my myriad "despedidas" over the years. Despedida means goodbye, both in Portuguese and Spanish. I remember being overwhelmed by a mix of grief, reluctance, fear, excitement, and happiness with nearly every goodbye party I've had. You're leaving behind people and places you've grown to love. You've set down roots. You've created dreams and plans involving the place you've called home. And then it's time to leave, to forge a life in another setting and start the emotional roller coaster anew.

Selling Casa Rosa most feels like my despedida when I was a high school exchange student in Maringá, Paraná. I spent a year down there, my first experience in Brazil, and had such a fantastic experience I didn't want to come home to New Mexico. I remember sobbing for weeks leading up to my departure date. When it came time to actually get in the car and drive to the airport, I bawled like a baby and had to be pried from the arms of my then-boyfriend Fernando. For as much as I didn't want to leave Maringá, I was also excited to see my mom and dad again, to be starting college in the fall, to make new friends and have new adventures.

In the big scheme of things, I knew that moving on was the right choice, but God was it hard. I had terrible reverse culture shock, and spent a good several months being an arrogant pill. All I wanted was to go back to Brazil and resume my fun life as an exchange student, and that totally clouded my vision of being home. I thought New Mexico was provincial, that our culture was piggish, that my peers were dumb, that my parents didn't understand what I'd experienced abroad, that I'd fundamentally changed and could no longer relate to anyone in my daily life. Of course, sense eventually returned to my teenage head and I had a fantastic college experience, but it was a long, bumpy road to that point.

When I think about selling Casa Rosa, I'm right back to that last desperate, weepy embrace I gave Fernando before going to the airport. I cried so hard, all I wanted to do was cling to this person and this life I'd come to call my own. Deep down I knew Fernando wasn't my forever partner, that we didn't have enough in common to continue a satisfying relationship. I knew that Maringá wasn't the right place for me either, a beautiful city but slightly isolated and hickish. Still, it was tremendously hard to let go.

We originally got Casa Rosa back in 2001 because a) it was a fantastic investment, and b) I was certain I'd return to Rio to live "for good" in the near future, and Casa Rosa would be my home. Well, plans changed. Mozambique wasn't even on my radar at that point, much less getting together with Rico and moving here to California. It's become clear that Rio won't be our home base, and we simply don't get down to Brazil enough to take advantage of that spectacular pink house.

Renting seems like an obvious solution, but it's not that easy. Casa Rosa is on the equivalent of the historic register, and it is full of the original features from 1910. Renters, no matter how well-intentioned and careful, end up destroying property. Things break. Old houses constantly need maintenance. It would be a challenge to be good landlords were we based in Rio; doing the job from another continent is a massive headache and simply not worth the effort.

We could also just leave the house empty, with only the caretaker around, as we've done for the greater part of the last decade. This option is tempting - we could hold on to this one-of-a-kind property and not have to say our goodbyes - but again the energy and resource drain is not insignificant. I think we're all at the point (and by "we" I mean me, my mom and Rico) where we want to simplify, concentrate on the lives we are currently living in the homes we currently occupy.

I do feel a bit like I'm walking away from an unfulfilled destiny with the sale of Casa Rosa. I always pictured myself living there, fully integrated in the funky, bohemian neighborhood of Santa Teresa. I'd be the artist in the pink house. We'd throw fantastic parties and host friends from all over the world. We'd know our neighbors by name. I'd suntan on the veranda and sketch the architectural details of the house while the bonde rattled by on the street below. Casa Rosa would feel like home, something that in all honesty it never truly has.

Of course we could pick up everything tomorrow, sell our furniture, put the cats in their traveler crates, and move to Rio. This Casa Rosa dream life isn't out of our reach, but I'm at the point where I have to admit that I'm not prepared to make the sacrifices for that Brazilian fantasy to come true. The life I imagine in Casa Rosa is definitely viewed through rose-colored glasses (ha, ha). It's not all bohemian wonderland. Maintaining the house is hard work. There are security issues and quality of life issues. More than anything, the life I desire in Casa Rosa would entail leaving this blessed existence in California, something I'm uninterested in doing. We love it here, and in contrast to the pink house in Santa Teresa, Casa Cali has felt like home from day one.

It's also a very good time to sell property right now in Rio, so the timing is good and we're hoping that the sale will allow our family to do new and wonderful things here in California.

We have some fantastic memories of Casa Rosa, the most spectacular being our wedding in 2008. I'd rather that amazing night be what I associate with the house, not another 10 years of long-distance maintenance that will leave us all with a bitter, resentful taste in our mouths. In my rational mind, I know it's time to move on and let someone else fulfill a dream and live their destiny in Casa Rosa. That gorgeous house deserves to be lived in, to be someone's home. Still, I can feel a lineup of sobs deep in my throat and all I really want to do is cling.

To say goodbye, a proper despedida for Casa Rosa, I've asked Rico to arrange for our wedding photographer to do a photo shoot of us in the house. It will be fitting timing, as we're just a week away from our 3-year wedding anniversary. The house is still on the market, so it still feels like it's "ours" and I'm hoping to be able to get some closure.