Curitiba struck me as one of those cities where I could actually live comfortably, walkably, and peacefully. My friend Jeff, who’s spent more time in Brazil than I have, told me before I went, “Curitiba is one of my favorite cities in Brazil. It’s safer than almost anywhere else, and it actually feels like it was designed for the people who live there.” Maybe that shaped my expectations, but he was right.
The city boasts excellent museums, thoughtful infrastructure, lush parks, and traffic that never bothered me. People seemed relaxed and content everywhere I went. I even found a solid rodízio spot for about $30, which is all-you-can-eat, and in my book, that’s a steal.
Curitiba is located within the state of Paraná, Brazil, and I spent some time trying to understand the cultural relevance of Paraná within Brazil. I didn’t really get a sense of those distinguishing aspects that make it special in relation to other places within Brazil. I’m reading the Wikipedia article I linked above right now, and it seems to say that industry and farming are defining aspects of it. Seems like I have some more room to learn and explore.
I cooked most nights as my Airbnb was located within walking distance to an excellent grocery store. It became my habit to eat kale salads each night and make an accompanying tahini dressing for it. Do you ever find yourself craving certain foods for the specific nutrients they contain that your body probably needs? I ate a ton of kale salads while I was in Curitiba. Was it folic acid that I needed?
I found a great gym to use, and it wasn’t long before I had developed a comfortable, albeit somewhat boring, daily routine revolving around my work. That sort of routine that could have been lived in any city in the world, that I so often build for myself in each different place I stay, incorporating local differences where practical and convenient.
I might have reached diminishing returns on this travel lifestyle as I find myself habitually recreating routines in each place I visit. Is this a sensible, natural, adaptive mechanism for living in different places, or am I subconsiously rebuilding a conventional life on top of this itinerant one, in each place I go? Is there a difference between the two? What happens if I stop moving for an extended period of time? Will I still feel the need to leave again after some time? I think the answer is still yes.
My friend Yara visited me while I was in Curitiba, breaking me out of my comfortable streak of mundanity. Her arrival was the perfect spark: a reason to explore new corners of the city and to dust off my camera for some portrait work, experimenting in dimly lit museums, sun-drenched parks, and everything in between. I find variation brings discovery.
We visited an art museum dedicated to the famous Brazilian architect Oscar Niemeyer, who designed Brasilia (which I briefly wrote about here), as well as the botanical gardens.
Lately, I’ve been more aware of life’s quiet serendipities, those moments that feel like subtle nudges from the universe. Some might call them signs of faith or luck; I see them as clues, diagnostic evidence of whether we’re still on the right path or wandering off into the woods. When something feels like encouragement, it is. When it feels like a warning, listen. Sometimes I see these clues as an acknowledgment from the universe, which is a form of communication, and also a reassurance.
Yara has a Portuguese phrase tattooed on her body that has resonated with me since she translated it for me:
