Why Leblon?

Manuel Carlos

Veja magazine

That's what some people from the neighborhood ask me whenever I write a soap opera. Why not Ipanema, Copacabana, Barra, or even Tijuca, Jacarepaguá, Vila Isabel, Gávea, Jardim Botânico... In short, why not any other neighborhood in Rio? Why Leblon?

Some residents ask this question with warmth and affection. They smile, are affectionate, and even flattered by my permanent choice. For others, the question emerges as a protest, always accompanied by a litany of civic-minded reasons, starting with complaints about TV Globo trucks, which make the streets impassable, disrupting residents' lives. And there are also those who complain about the high price of real estate—to buy or rent—which is my fault, they say, because I promote the neighborhood in soap operas, making it seem like paradise, free from violence, dirt, and neglect from public authorities. But when it comes down to it, a fifty-fifty divide emerges: those who like it and those who don't. For the elderly, children, nannies, and their babies, the feeling is of a permanent party, an uninterrupted holiday. Alongside all this, of course, there is violence, dirt, and neglect from public authorities, as is the case throughout Rio and almost all of Brazil.

But the greatest joy is truly for the paparazzi, who have a wealth of footage available, with stars parading daily through restaurants, newsstands, pharmacies, bookstores, and coffee shops. On weekends—we often shoot on Saturdays—there's practically a tour of domestic tourists, who walk around with cameras, happily stalking global celebrities.

But why Leblon? Is it because of all this hustle and bustle, this open-air circus created by television, even though it's already the neighborhood, regardless of soap operas, the favorite of celebrities? No, not at all. The answer is easy, simple, crystal clear: because I live here. I walk the streets of Leblon every day, getting to know its residents one by one, at least by sight. I also raised a large part of my family here, as I have two children and three grandchildren who are true Leblonians. So, when I think of the central story of a soap opera, it's natural that I imagine it unfolding here, in these streets and squares, in these bars and restaurants. In its hectic life seven nights a week.

Leblon is a small strip of land surrounded by beauty on all sides. It lies between the sea and Rodrigo de Freitas Lagoon, and its total area covers less than twenty cross streets: from Borges de Medeiros Avenue to Visconde de Albuquerque Avenue. The neighborhood is home to famous addresses, famous residents, and the Flamengo of Marilene Dabus and all of us.

When I leave Rio, curiosity is speculative, filled with questions asked with shining eyes. They also imagine the neighborhood as a kind of Manhattan, a fantasy island where celebrities stroll around in T-shirts, shorts, and flip-flops. Many people have this idea of ​​Leblon. I met a girl in São Paulo who made me promise that, when she came to Rio, I would show her the São Vicente Clinic.

“But why?” I asked.

"Because that's where all artists go when they get sick or when they simply need to get checked out or see a doctor. I read that all the time in newspapers and magazines."

I didn't have the courage to reveal that Clínica São Vicente is in Gávea. I didn't want to disappoint you.

Legends are created, stories are invented, fantasies are created. For me, it's simply the place where I live and which I love with all my heart. Simple, almost bucolic. Parodying Fernando Pessoa and his Tejo, I can say that:

"Leblon doesn't make you think about anything.

Whoever is near him is only near him."