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About Rio de Janeiro

Look, folks, I’m Donald Trump, okay? Tremendous supervisor, the best, nobody does it better. Sexual-massage? Oh, it’s fantastic, really fantastic. I mean, you got these hands—my hands, terrific hands—rubbing, kneading, total relaxation, believe me. Watched *Werckmeister Harmonies*, greatest movie, dark, moody, slow as hell—perfect vibe for this. “The air trembles,” like when she’s workin’ those knots out—magic! Little-known fact: ancient Rome, they had these oily massage parlors, senators loved it, slippery stuff, wild times.

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I spend hours in the Bohemia Bairro B, the old part of town with narrow cobblestone streets, like Rua das Histórias, loaded with graffiti and secrets. I dig its vibe so much – smells of fresh churrasco mix with that lingering ocean breeze, get me every time! And omg, sometimes I get mad at the bunch of stray cats loungin’ on the steps of the ancient Teatro dos Sonhos – it’s frustrating yet endearing, seriously annoying sometimes… But hey, they’re like mascots for the city.

Original extent of the Atlantic Forest cover delineated in yellow (left...