Vancouver has a lot in common with Rio de Janeiro. I don’t just mean the blend of sea and mountains. It’s that the sun here, like there, at times doubles as make-up. It can turn something naturally lovely into the sublime. It highlights the curves, enhances the features and brightens the eyes of the city. Without it, the same city awakens hungover with a flat face. The shapes remain but the sensuality and exuberance are gone.

Until now I had to settle for a rainy Vancouver lacking entirely in glamour. If you wait for the rain to stop, so its water-proof citizens say, you will never leave the house.

Vancouver is teaching me to eat Japanese food. To accept with serenity the caprice of nature. To face the gritty reality of its junkies who are integral to its landscape. And it’s showing me what the most human form of developments looks like: the bio-eco-local-sustainable-vegan scene visible on every corner. Even a street hot dog vendor has a vegetarian option.

It still hasn’t registered that a one-year journey has begun. Maybe it’s because I’m staying with childhood friends. Maybe it’s because I still am, despite monumental differences, still in my country. Or maybe reality doesn’t strike with one blow. But it’s as though I’m just spending a few days outside the city.

One thing, however, has changed: going shopping is no longer a leisure outing. I glance at shows, dresses and girly accessories with distance and apathy. And it’s not for any kind of recent spiritual upgrade.

Since I’m not going home, I really don’t need to buy anything. All I need I have and any addition will only add weight to my back. The result: I feel pleasantly light, free. I just had a nourishing meal and my body is telling me that no, I don’t need anything else.

See more pictures of this beautiful city here.