In its place, you hear the crash of the ocean waves. You hear the sound of skateboards clicking over pavement. You hear children laughing and the whir of bicycle chains.

This is because on Sundays, the unthinkable happens: the city shuts down the Avenida Vieira Souto—the multi-lane highway that runs along the beach—and gives it back to the people.

When packing for a trip to a major metropolitan city, instinct tells you to bring your best footwear. You pack the loafers, the high heels, the statement sneakers, and the smart boots. You expect to dress up for dinner and look sharp for the museum. But if you spend more than 48 hours in Rio de Janeiro, you will notice a strange phenomenon occurring in your closet. Those expensive, structured shoes will stay in the suitcase, untouched.

For decades, the definition of luxury travel was rigid and loud. It was defined by visibility: white-gloved doormen, turndown service with chocolates on the pillow, and a concierge who knew your name before you reached the front desk. It was about being seen, being served, and being constantly attended to.