Three months of immersion in Brazilian culture while working for the licensee of my American employer, left me distraught at returning to the USA. As added compensation, I was awarded a four-day layover in Rio de Janeiro with a room at the legendary Copacabana Palace Hotel on that famous beach. It was mid-morning in the courtyard café. I sat pensively in the thought of the events of this past adventure. Words from an American across the aisle brought me around. Other than a co-worker this was the first American I had spoken with for some time. He proved to be pretentious and annoying, awaiting the arrival of a Portuguese interpreter for his business dealings. I was polite and disinterested with his update on life back home. Our conversation was saved at the arrival of his secretary. I was enchanted at her charm after only a few moments but they had to go to his meeting. As they rose to leave I asked her to have dinner with me and she promptly said she would pick me at nine - the American's jaw hit the floor. 
Helene was an Australian English teacher who was ending a three-year affair with the son of a rich Brazilian and due to return home by way of Fiji in a few days. She showed me the treasures of Rio - great restaurants, Christo, Pão de Sucré and we bicycled around Isle de Pacita. There was no illusion of romance or special ties, just two strangers spending some idle time between ports of call.
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