Notes From Everywhere

When planning our trip to Rio de Janeiro, I knew I wanted to visit Rocinha, the city’s largest favela. Favelas are an important part of Rio’s identity, and I wanted to see that side of the city for myself.

I’ll admit, I was nervous. I didn’t know what to expect or whether joining a favela tour was even a good idea. Our guide, a young man who had grown up in Rocinha, seemed to sense that almost immediately.

“The first thing you should know,” he told us with a smile, “is that you’re safe.”

He reminded us not to walk around with our phones in our hands. “Take your picture, then put it away.” He also explained that while walking through the favela was generally safe, there were a few places where photography wasn’t allowed because some of the local gang members didn’t want their faces photographed. Growing up in Rocinha, he knew exactly where visitors could safely walk and where photography wasn’t appropriate. It allowed us to relax, enjoy the experience, and learn about the neighborhood from someone who called it home.

Then came the part I will probably remember the most. The moto taxi ride. To reach the top of Rocinha, we climbed onto the back of motorcycles, the local way of getting around the steep streets. As I tried to get on the bike, I completely lost my balance and landed on the seat with an enthusiastic, “Oh my gosh!” The driver burst out laughing.

Trying to remember my Spanish, I asked, “¿Necesito un casco?”

“No, no casco,” he replied.

I couldn’t help noticing that he was wearing one himself.

Within seconds we were weaving through the narrow streets, surrounded by dozens of motorcycles climbing the hill. Horns echoed through the neighborhood as drivers called out to one another. It sounded chaotic at first, but before long it felt almost… cheerful.

At one point a bus suddenly pulled in front of us, forcing my driver to slam on the brakes. “Oh my gosh!” he shouted. We both laughed.

By the time we reached the top, I was grinning from ear to ear.

The view stretched across green mountains with the Atlantic Ocean shimmering in the distance. Below us, thousands of small homes climbed the hillsides, stacked one above another like colorful building blocks.

As we walked deeper into Rocinha, the neighborhood revealed itself one street at a time.

Some alleys were narrow, dark, and worn, with weathered concrete walls covered in graffiti. Just around the corner we found a beautifully renovated art gallery showcasing work by a local artist. Bright murals covered entire walls, and colorful painted staircases connected different parts of the neighborhood. Nothing looked exactly the same for very long.

We watched children practicing capoeira inside a simple concrete building. They sang together as they performed flips and kicks with incredible precision, landing perfectly on a small mat spread across the floor. Later we passed a school where children played in the courtyard while our guide reminded us not to photograph them.

There were beauty salons, restaurants, grocery stores, and small shops everywhere. People sat outside talking with neighbors. Others smiled and greeted us as we passed.

Eventually we stopped on a balcony overlooking the neighborhood while our guide shared what life in Rocinha was like. He talked about community projects that help keep young people away from gangs and explained that maintaining order was in everyone’s interest.

One sentence has stayed with me ever since. “If I get caught stealing your phone,” he said, “I might lose my hand.”

It wasn’t something I expected to hear, but it reminded me that places are often far more complicated than they first appear.

As our tour came to an end, I stopped at a small food stand to buy a snack. I accidentally handed the vendor too much money and started walking away.

Before I had gone more than a few steps, both the vendor and another man standing nearby called after me. I turned around, and they handed back the extra money.

I arrived in Rocinha wondering if I would feel safe. I left remembering laughter on the back of a motorcycle, children practicing capoeira, friendly conversations, and a stranger making sure I got my change back. It was both a neighborhood with real challenges and a place where ordinary people were living their everyday lives.