...and I've been keeping my windows shut. I sleep fairly well at night, no big freakouts, though the bird-sized moth that flew in the other night gave me a nice scare, as did the rabid-sounding, doorframe-removing cat (also entering through the window) at my friend's house the night of the robbery.
When you live in a city as violent as this one, it's kind of normal.
But we are going to put bars up on the windows, never fear.
Last week was so hard. My cellphone went on the fritz and had to be replaced. The house was robbed. My boyfriend broke up with me.
It hasn't been pretty. But then today, I wake up and send all my friends an invite to a free opera performance later this week. It's a chance for me to get out of the house, wear makeup, feel better. As I'm glancing at the program, a name jumps out at me. An unusual name. And I think, "No. Not possible."
How could someone I had a crush on when I was 17 be performing in Rio at the very concert I'm about to attend?
When I was 17, I lived in Indiana. A long, long way from Rio. I was a die-hard rock-climber, in spite of the lack of rocks in the rolling corn fields. My then-boyfriend and I climbed at the only gym around, a 40 minute drive away at the local university town. There were lots of lovely college boys climbing there, but none so cute as the one with the fantastic tattoo, beautiful accent and bouncy black curls. The Mysterious Foreigner (TMF). Someone said he sang opera. I swooned and a crush was born. My boyfriend quickly surpassed me in climbing skills and that was the end of our relationship, which was mostly based on scaling walls to begin with. I was unwilling to be belaying on the ground for hours on end...and he found a new climbing partner in TMF, who I never spoke to but perhaps, maybe, once. (I was shy.) They climbed like they were born to it...and then we moved away. I heard stories about the both of them from friends from time to time but just in passing, little anecdotes about running into someone where you'd least expect it. And then today, my eyes fall on TMF's name...and his bio picture...and it's a flurry of calls to Indiana, "you won't believe its" and lots of laughter and "tell him hi for us!"
Of course, I'm going to have to go backstage on Thursday...bring greetings from Indiana...and revel in the weirdness of such a small, small world. Without sounding like a stalker, that is. Which I'm not.
But this little oddity from my past has given me a bit more "animo" to go about the rest of my week. Who knew there would be so many Indiana connections in Rio de Janeiro???