Walking through the simple but wonderfully vibrant market in Leblon I came across stall selling lettuce. It may have only been selling lettuces, but what lettuces they were. Suddenly the stall holder had left his post and was greeting me with the enthusiasm that people often reserve for foreign visitors. Much of the tourism in Rio de Janeiro is internal but I suspect Brazilian tourists find themselves down here as infrequently as international guests.

Do you like Brazil? Are you having a great time? He gave me his name which I’m sad to say I didn’t catch. I want you to have a great time here in Brazil. I’m at your disposal — I want nothing for myself, just for you to enjoy my city and for you to tell your friends what a marvellous place it is. I speak seven languages. It is wonderful to see visitors to my city.

We talked for a while and he was pleased that I was happy to wander alone. He was retired I think, clearly an educated man. The seven languages were impressive although I tried only French. As I waved goodbye his fellow stall holders — who seemed only to have one language — smiled and laughed, in obvious agreement with my friend’s sentiments even if they couldn’t understand they way he had expressed them.

In my travels I have come across the kindness and comradeship with remarkable regularity. It is nice to be in a place, and in a culture, where meeting someone from another nation is a cause for such celebration. Would visitors to London or Birmingham be greeted so warmly? I’d like to think so but somehow I doubt it.