São Paulo is known for being the city that never sleeps. With its bustling days and electrifying nights, it is almost impossible to fit a day into 24 hours. The wide avenues and tall buildings serve only as clues to the immensity of this concrete jungle. In addition to its chaotic rhythm, the city leaves no space for boredom (or rest).

For the longest time, I believed that being born in such a lively city made me similar to it. It was almost as if I carried its characteristics in my DNA. After all, how could I live in a place where people do not cultivate the art of Happy Hour? Or, how could I adapt to an apartment without the noise of dozens of neighbours? Or even not having to face long queues in any public space?

No matter the situation, I always thought this was the way to live. I was accustomed to coming and going, as in such a big city, becoming attached to people and situations is a perfect formula for disappointment. However, it was through a letter from the University and an eleven-hour flight that I found myself 8,189 km away from the city that was both the birthplace and the school of my history.

In a snap, my clothes were reduced to 32 kg, and I traded makeup for a tan. My sentences lost their gerunds, and any place was no more than 20 minutes away. But it was on the day I descended to the city’s limits and saw the D. Luis I Bridge that the confirmation hit me: I now live in Porto.

Being the second-largest city in Portugal, Porto has approximately 231,000 inhabitants and covers an area of 41.42 km2. Known for being a touristic and student city, Porto always brings a fresh flow of new people. In this case, the new person was me.

During the first week, I was introduced to Somersby with absinthe and Rua das Galerias. Uncertain of what to expect, I threw myself into the night with no intentions and much curiosity. From the outside, it’s almost impossible to decode what’s on the inside. Still, with the coming and going of each person, it’s possible to hear the electrifying music leaking into the air. The interaction expanded to an unknown group after a few tequila shots and multiple pop songs. Right off the bat, it was possible to identify that they were not natives, but it was during the exchange of one or two conversations that the American accent emerged. As we danced to Brazilian rhythms, the foreigner was enthusiastic about learning a few moves, and entertainment consisted of showing him how to dance without looking like a wooden plank.

His name was Josh, an ordinary name, but what caught my attention was his fun personality and the fact that he wore a cap and sunglasses inside a club. As we progressed with the dance steps, we gradually grew closer, and eventually, we were snuggled together, with him wrapping his arm around my waist in complete respect. On the other side of the bar was my friend who, by chance, was passing through the city on vacation with his family, and we decided to meet up.

From afar, I could tell he was no longer sober, and I felt the tension of wanting to escape somewhere else. It didn’t take long for Daniel, my friend, to approach us, saying it was better to head back to the hotel and if I could accompany him to the bridge since I’d only memorised my way up there. I looked at the American, and without saying a word, he smiled and followed me.

During the journey, getting to know more about the person behind the disguise was possible. He seemed like a nice guy who had decided to break out of the bubble and try to see the world. The most exciting thing was that his mother accompanied him on his journey. We spoke a little about culture, tourism, and jewellery. He mentioned that my raw stone necklace was the first thing that caught his attention and that he loved everything in this universe, including carrying many rings on his fingers. I liked the bright green stone ring on his little finger the most. At that moment, without hesitation, he took it off and put it on my ring finger.

My friend said his goodbyes and, with much alcohol in his head, said, “You’re going to have sex tonight.” He wasn’t entirely wrong, but I hadn’t even kissed the guy who had unconsciously proposed to me at that point. I quickly replied, “It’s good he doesn’t speak Portuguese. Message me when you get back to the hotel.”

As he disappeared from our vision, Josh pulled me close, and our faces met. He released a slight smile, and we kissed. His breath tasted of mint and black pepper, almost as if he had just eaten an excellent meal and brushed his teeth afterwards. “Should I order an Uber?” he said.

Without thinking twice, I crossed the city I had just arrived in. He was staying at a hotel in Boavista, which was modern and away from the tourist spots. When we reached his hotel, he stepped out first and went around to open the door for me. It was the early hours, and I wasn’t sure whether this was delirium or chivalry still existed. The hotel was surrounded by large glass panels, making it possible to see the entire lobby outside. The elevator was panoramic, and the traditional hallways had wooden walls and carpeted floors. The feeling was good; it had been long since I had seen a card used as a key.

Upon entering the room, the suite surprised me. All the furniture was highly modern, and the room was spacious. The window at the back took up the entire wall, and the view looked like a framed painting. Josh made me comfortable in a few minutes and offered me his phone to choose the music. It was a disaster because I couldn’t remember any song that would match the moment, so I had to resort to an R&B playlist.

We talked a little, and he mentioned that he needed to shower as he noticed he smelled of alcohol and sweat. I asked if I could go next, and without a second thought, he said, “It’s better to save some water for the planet’s good,” and threw me a towel, almost like an invitation. Without hesitation, I headed for the bathroom and saw him turning on the bathtub faucet. He took off his shirt and sat on the edge of the bath. I approached him, and he slowly slipped off the strap of my silk dress, which fell effortlessly to the ground.

He kissed every part of my body, and as he reached my underwear, he looked at me to confirm if I was comfortable. We got into the bathtub, and everything became very sensory; the water’s temperature and the scent of the bath additives only heightened the experience. Each touch, each gaze, and each kiss became filled with desire as time passed.

When our fingers started to wrinkle, it was time to transition to a drier place, so we went to his bed, filled with pillows and a white comforter. The foreplay was fun and light, perhaps the best way to discover someone’s body. Until the moment he turned me over, I could feel we had moved on to another moment. I began to enjoy every step of that dance until I blinked, and he was already lying next to me, stretched out and laughing.

Without understanding, I approached him and kissed him. “That was awesome!” Josh said. I responded with a smile that concealed my uncertainty about what had happened. I lingered a bit by his side, but I knew that on that night, I would sleep in my bed. So, I got up and got dressed to leave. He politely offered to call a taxi and accompanied me to the hotel door.

As I got into the car, he kissed me and told me to let him know when I got home. As always, I didn’t do any of that, but I sent an audio message recounting the story to my best friend, Andrew, who would listen to a podcast when he woke up.

The following day, I found two missed calls and some messages from my friend Daniel. Everyone was alive. I went to the bathroom, and while sitting on the toilet, I laughed, remembering the night. I picked up my phone and called Andrew; he answered in one ring and said, ‘Tell me everything.’

With every sentence, he burst into laughter and couldn’t believe what had happened. But still, with doubts about what had occurred during sex, I explained that before he finished, I had the feeling of having taken a nap, as everything had happened so quickly, and I didn’t remember how we had gone from one moment to the next. Andrew stopped, remained silent for a few seconds, and said, ‘You didn’t sleep, dear. He was fast indeed.’

And like a sudden realisation, I understood that sometimes the appetiser is better than the main course.

A.M.