Page 63 of Thiago
“She’s adorable. She has the right name. She looks like an angel,” India said, returning Thiago’s phone to him.
“Yes, she does,” he agreed, taking one last look before tucking the phone in his pocket.
Their driver, Bernardo, was waiting in the lobby. He was a tall, slender man with chestnut-brown skin.
“Bom dia,” he greeted them.
Then he led the way to a white air-conditioned vehicle and opened the door so they could slide into the back.
On the way to their first destination, India took photos of Rio de Janeiro in all its colorful, noisy glory. She captured bougainvillea spilling over balconies in public and private spaces, entrepreneurs selling street food under bright umbrellas on the sidewalks, and the art painted on the sides of buildings.
Their first stop was the Christ the Redeemer statue atop Corcovado Mountain. Bernardo dropped them near the ticket entrance, where vendors were selling inexpensive souvenirs.India purchased a few items before she and Thiago took the tram to the top. It transported them through the Tijuca National Forest, one of the largest urban forests in the world.
When they arrived at the summit with the other passengers, the statue loomed high above them, impossibly tall with its arms stretched wide. Beneath the clear blue sky, the white stone appeared to glow. With visitors milling around, India tipped back her head and stared up at the magnificent structure. Excluding the pedestal, it was 98 feet high and was the largest Art Deco-type sculpture in the world.
Thiago stepped up beside her. “Incredible, no?”
“Incredible doesn’t begin to describe it,” India replied.
“Stay there. I’ll be your photographer.”
He took her phone and crouched down to capture the monument above while she struck a pose. They took additional photos with her near the railing, with Rio sprawled behind her, and then it was time to move on.
Their next stop was Escadaria Selarón, a tiled staircase in the Lapa neighborhood, whose popularity exploded after the music video “Beautiful” by Pharrell Williams. The design was a gift from Chilean artist Jorge Selarón to the Brazilian people. The steps blazed with color, each riser decorated with mismatched tiles in bright reds, yellows, and blues. Some were painted with flags, while others contained faces or patterns.
India’s artistic eye appreciated the complexity of the project. Trailing her fingers along the cool ceramic, she marveled at how chaotic yet harmonious the combination of colors appeared.
“The design reminds me of a quilt. I want a couple of photos on the steps,” she said, handing Thiago her phone.
She waited for a couple to finish snapping their pictures and then sat on the step they had abandoned.
Thiago crouched low, capturing her against the rainbow of colors. After several clicks, he showed her the images.
“I like these better than the ones at Corcovado Mountain,” he commented.
“I do too,” she agreed.
Taking her hand, Thiago then led her around the artsy neighborhood, where they browsed the small stores lining the streets. India spent extra time in one shop in particular where they sold unframed art and handmade jewelry. She bought rings and bracelets for herself and Kiara and a couple of prints to hang on the wall at home. She purchased souvenir T-shirts for Josh and her godsons at another location.
Their leisurely walk took them to the Metropolitan Cathedral of Saint Sebastian. Completed in 1979, it was the seat of the Archdiocese of Rio de Janeiro, and its majestic design was inspired by the Mayan pyramids.
When they stepped inside, Thiago dipped his fingers in the holy water at the front and traced the sign of the cross over his forehead, chest, and shoulders, quietly adding,“En el nombre del Padre, del Hijo, y del Espíritu Santo.”
India was struck by his reverent tone—in stark contrast to the clipped precision of his business voice—and the humility demonstrated by his bowed head. He was different. Still powerful but softened by the ritual. She was witnessing yet another facet of his personality and felt a twinge of shame at how she had casually dismissed his faith two days before.
When they ventured deeper inside, she gasped at the gorgeous stained glass windows that stretched from the floor to the ceiling.
“This is huge,” she said in a hushed voice, looking around in wonder at the vast open space.
“The sanctuary holds up to 20,000 people,” Thiago said, keeping his voice equally low and respectful.
They didn’t take photos there, and after they left, they walked to a nearby restaurant for lunch. Afterward, Bernardopicked them up for the final destination on their day-long tour—Sugarloaf Mountain.
Located at the mouth of Guanabara Bay, a trip to the top offered panoramic views of the city and the water beyond. As the cable car carried them to the granite peak, India clutched the railing, a little nervous when the ground fell away beneath them.
From behind, Thiago placed a hand on either side of her on the railing. “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?” he asked, his voice a low rumble in her ear.
“I never thought so until this very moment.” India laughed nervously, her fingers tightening on the steel bar.
