Rio

Rio. What comes to mind? Samba dancers in feathers and heels? Samba Music? The beach scene at Copacabana and Ipanema? Nightlife, surfing? The famous Christ statue on Corcovado mountain or the gondolas carrying people up Sugarloaf? The beaches, and the city lights at night? Museums, city parks, and colonial architecture? Do you think of high rises and population density? Do you think about news headlines and violence, 8 year old stick up artists with guns? Intersections where by law you no longer have to stop at red lights at night because of car jackings? Do you think of that movie you saw City of God, and how millions of poor live on hillsides looking right into the 10th floor apartment windows of the rich? Rio has it all- everything you've heard and much more you haven't.

In truth I was feeling some trepidation as my plane began its descent into Rio. I would consider Brazil to be one of the most violent and dangerous countries I have visited, but having spent enough time here I generally know how to stay out of trouble and minimize risk, and have fun in spite of it. The stories from Rio however gave me pause. In my travels I have been robbed at gunpoint and knifepoint, pickpocketed a hundred times, woken to intruders in my hotel rooms, found myself in the middle of street fights, and shared streets with terrorists and bombings. Somehow none of that makes me nervous, but Rio did. On a beach in placid Tamandare, a local woman had been telling me how it had made the news that another American tourist had been shot on the beach for refusing to surrender his twenty dollars or something. She said it was always the Americans who get in trouble, because they fight back or refuse. I guess I was just not comfortable with the whole kids and guns thing.

Anyways, after almost six weeks in Rio I am happy to report that for me anyways, it has been one of the safest and most comfortable places to travel in all of Brasil. Especially compared to a place like Salvador, where some low level of threat seems to be almost constant, Rio has been utterly peaceful. Which is not to say shit does not go down. In my first week there I was hearing almost daily stories of robberies on the streets right by our hostel, and my friend at another hostel reported how a man with a gun chased an irish couple off the street into his hostel, and through the locked security gate. All of the residents were completely helpless until the security guard decided to stand up to him and kick him out. Anyways, I decided not to spend too much time in those types of conversations or to live in fear, while keeping my wits about me. I had not a single problem, not even a cab driver trying to take me for a ride. OK well there was that goo gobbing incident- more on that later.

So back to my arrival. Our plane coasted over Rio in the early evening darkness, offering fantastic views of Rio´s bays and beaches and mountains. As I stepped into a cab for Ipanema, it was drizzling and for the first time in five months it felt a bit chilly for board shorts. After checking into my hostel I decided to take a look around. I fell in love almost instantly. The terrain in Rio is truly fantastic. Steep peeks burst from the flat earth every which way, with perfect crescents of white sand joining cove after cove, and neighborhoods bristling with high rise hotels and apartments sprouting from every piece of flat land. In many places the steep hillsides have provided foundations for the shantytowns of the poor, often directly adjacent to the high rises of the well-to-do. For the most part these Favelas are where the service workers live, after all, all the hotels, restaurants, and apartments and shops need maids, cooks, construction workers, security guards, door men, waiters, etc, though they certainly can't afford to live in the buildings they work in.

My hostel was in Ipanema, made famous by the inescapable bossa nova song A Garota De Ipanema (The Girl From Ipanema). The bar where it was penned lay a few blocks from my hostel, and was frequented by tourists and the occasional TV star. The various neighborhoods of Rio have taken turns over the centuries as 'the' place to be, with old neigborhoods like Botafogo sporting crumbling colonial mansions as a testament to their time as the area of choice for the rich. Nowadays Ipanema and especially Leblon and Gavea hold the prize, with rents and property values correspondingly inflated. In the earlier part of the century neighboring Copacabana and Leme held the crown, though these areas are fading towards shabby and somewhat dangerous.

As I walked around my neighborhood the highrises towered above me, while the vibe at street level was surprisingly warm and comfortable. Trees line the streets, and the bottoms of all the buildings are given over to restaurants, bars, juice stands, bakeries, boutiques, clothing, jewelry, movie theaters, etc. Almost every eatery or bar was completely open to the street, usually with tables on the sidewalk, and always full of people enjoying themselves loudly, at all hours of day and night. Every once in a while a glance to the sky would yield a fantastic mountain peak between the skyscrapers. After exploring these concrete corridors for a while and a few drinks, I glanced down a side street and realized with a start- thats the beach! It's easy to forget that the entirety of the concrete jungle of Copacabana, Leme, Ipanema, Leblon, and Gavea lie within three blocks of the most famous beaches in the world. It was towards midnight as I walked towards the ocean.

To emerge from the buildings was a shock. Where before I was closed in, it was dark, the air still, suddenly there was nothing but space, fresh ocean air and breezes, an expansive vista. The ocean was pounding the shore with huge waves, I could see the breakers and spray before I could even see the sand. And there was that tiled sidewalk. It's a part of everyones subconscious data bank, whether they know it or not, the characteristic swirly patterned sidewalks along the beaches in Rio. Of course, the original swirly one is in Copa. Here in ipanema it is a different playful pattern of squarish dots and doughnuts. As I walked across the street toward the water I glanced left to see the rocky outcrop called Arpoador, dividing Copa from Ipanema, and giving rise to the best waves for surfing in the area. To my right at the other end of the beach, signifying the end of Leblon, rose the dramatic mountain called Dois Irmaos- Two Brothers. Silhouetted by the night sky, the mountain sparkled with the glittering lights of the favelinha growing up its sides. As I stepped onto that sidewalk, the massive swell beat the shore explosively. Such natural splendour, and mere footsteps from the depths of concrete urban developement.

In my barhopping that night, I met quite a few people, mostly foreign travelers, which was great. When I first came to Brasil I didn't want to hang out with gringos, I didn't even want to speak english. I just wanted to go native, get into it, improve my language skills and escape from the known. Four months later, I was ready for a good conversation with someone who I might have something in common with. If you would have told me in January that I would enjoy my first night in Rio with three frat boys from South Carolina I would have laughed in your face, but that was exactly what I was doing, shooting a game of pool on a real table at an Irish pub, trading stories and enjoying the moment. I think that night or the next I met an English bloke and his Irish friend too. The English have made the best company in general on my trip- always good for a laugh.

The next day the sun came out and I decided to start getting to know the city. I set off on foot. That day and the next (and the next and the next), on foot and by bike, I began to take in my surroundings, and marvel at them. For miles in all directions were the now becoming familiar tree and granite lined corridors of juice bars and bakeries, shuffling pedestrians, frantic buses cabs and cyclists, honking horns, exhaust fumes, the smell of baking pastry or barbecuing chicken, the squeal of worn bus brakes. And never far, natural beauty worthy of any national park. In fact, If I were to try to describe Rio to someone who hadn't seen it, it would have to go like this. Start with Yosemite National Park. Then put five more El Capitans and ten more Half-Domes in it. Throw a giant natural lagoon in the middle of it. Put it next to the ocean, and include ten or so picture postcard beaches, wide crescents of sand strung one next to the other like a shell necklace. Then dump ten million people into it, and build a highrise on every inch of available flat land. Then watch the overflowing human tide scrambling up the mountainsides, building brick shantytowns and making space where there was none. Then imagine that somehow all of this humanity continues to be dwarfed by the natural splendour it inhabits, and that somehow the roads and concrete towers find harmony with the mountains, the bays, the beaches, the lagoon, and the canals.

The diversity of neighborhoods is also impressive. From Gavea to Leme, Copa, Ipanema and Leblon in between, there is certain homogeneity, though things move upscale the further south you go, these areas were built around the same time and are basically the major tourist destinations and beach hang outs. There are other areas though. Lagoa, the area around the lagoon, which is also right next to Ipanema, has different flavor, and a whole different type of peaceful chilling and appreciation of views can happen in this area. Gavea is a bit back from the beach and starts to move up the mountain, with fewer high-rises, more windy roads and views. Urca, a tiny community right under Sugarloaf mountain was one of my favorites. Off the beaten path and small, there are no high rises, only small colonial building of stone tucked between the water of the bay and the side of the mountain. Tree-lined roads wind and the sun sets on the water, with Corcovado and Christo rising behind. No traffic, tiny little bars and restaurants water front without big crowds. Botafogo is one of the areas whose hey day came and went hundreds of years ago, but as a result there are some fantastic (though crumbling) colonial buildings in this area. Santa Theresa, on the tourist radar but not spoiled, is a hilltop neighborhood sporting winding cobblestone streets, cable cars, views of the city, and funky old buildings undergoing transformation into artist studios, cafes, book stores, and art galleries. When we visited we chanced upon a multi-tiered out door cafe with an immense tree growing through it, where some women were practicing that kind of aerial ribbon dance, like in Cirque do Soleil, where they wind themselves up in a three story cloth ribbon then fall through the air. We also caught some excellent live samba with our lunch. Centro is the historical downtown, and has the greatest and most impressive concentration of old buildings, churches, courthouses, palaces, official buildings, and then just street upon street of simple stores housed in beautiful old structures, punctuated by plazas, parks, statues and sculptures. There are endless other neighborhoods, and though many of them aren't much worth seeing I did make it out to the famous Maracana stadium for a soccer game, and to Manguiera for a party at the famous samba school.

On my first week in town I walked out onto the rocks at Arpoador to catch the sunset with 1000 or so other like minded souls. From my seat on the rocks the waves were breaking right in front of me, I could sight down the tubes as the surfers rode by. The sun was setting at the other end of the beach behind the Two Brothers. Suddenly I could hear a thunking sound coming from behind the rock. It got louder and more earth rumbling until suddenly from behind the rock a huge bright red emergency helicopter emerged. It flew over head, flying low, then over the open ocean, the waves, and the surfers, It flew so low it whipped a huge cloud of spray up in a circle around it as it rode down the beach, the spray lit orange by the setting sun. As the sun passed behind the mountains and the orange reflected off the water, the high rise windows, the rocks, the sand, and the faces of the thousands sharing the moment with me, my body let out a deep mmmmmm kind of "this is good" kind of sigh.

Brazilians like to have fun, and the Cariocas (people from Rio) are experts. Everywhere you go in Rio, and in everythig the locals do, they find a way to have a great time. Lets start in the water and move in. The waves are always full of surfers, even when there are no waves you can see people paddling about. People swim, people water surf, girls and kids splash by the shore. Then on the shore there are pairs engaged in the very brazilian 'fresco ball' I think we call it smash ball. Also the football jugglers (OK soccer ball), forming rings and juggling like we would play hacky sack. Moving into the beach we get the beach scene. All the hot bodies working on their tans and showing their stuff. The girls flip and preen on towels or beach chairs, while the guys tend to just stand around in their speedos flexing and keeping an eye on things. Every beach I have visited in Brazil has a pull up bar and parrellel bars, and sometimes other contraptions for getting your beach workout. In Rio there must be a 100 or more exercise stations on the beach, and they are usually in constant use. The muscle bound dudes who stand around flexing are called pit boys (after pit bull) I guess for their thick necks and tough, dim witted stares. Every thirty feet or so for the entire length of the beaches in Ipanema and Copa there are little tents that will rent you a chair and umbrella, provide any cold beverage you require, make you a grilled cheese sandwich and even provide a freshwater shower.

So we have those who enjoy the beach by going there to be still, but there are plenty who go to be active, thus you will see volleyball and soccer courts dotting the beach. These are between the sidewalk and the barracas and sunbathers. There is always soccer, though even more common is beach volleyball. There are competitive matches, pick up games, and teams training all the time. Even more fun to watch though is the extremely brazilian foot volei, volleyball with feet, knees, heads, shoulders, chest, but no arms or hands. Now that we've made it through the sand we are on the side walk and there are the walkers. Locals and tourist, young and old, at all times of the day and night, people are out for a stroll, taking in the views, getting some light exercise, and checking out the other walkers. Like on the beach you are never more than fifty feet from a snack or a drink, as the more permanent barracas and juice stands that dot the sidewalk are open 24/7 for your refreshment needs. Step off the black and white mosaic sidewalk and you are in the bike lane, and probably involved in a high speed accident if you didn't look first. The bike lane is narrow, room for one bike either way, and usually full of bikers moving very fast. The pace is quite different from the easy strolling going on just inches to the side. Locals and tourists a like forget to look and I have been on both the bike and pedestrian side of these close encounters, it's funny as long as no one gets hurt.

Next we have a twelve inch strip of concrete and then we are in Traffic. Yes traffic with a capital T, this is Rio traffic and it's all busses and cabs and basically you don't mess around. The cabs and buses in Brazil will not slow down or swerve to avoid you, they expect you to jump and run and generally stay well out of the way, and if you don't, they are going to teach you a lesson. You may not believe me but I have had cabs consistently speed up and aim for me if I encroach on their "turf", ie any street. Oh and if you're on a bike- make sure you've left a will, oh and don't play chicken with the cabs- you lose. I bit of a psychotic driver myself, with practice in many of the dodgier countries of the world, I've learned that in the cut throat world of driving sometimes you need to swerve a bit to make some space for yourself when the stakes are high. Well maybe so, but when you're on a bike in Rio and you go up against a cab- you get no slack. Now you know.

So I think we were talking about activity and though crossing the street isn't exactly an activity it kind of is for the afore mentioned reasons. It's almost a sport and a high stakes one at that and you do need to learn it to get around in Rio. Anyways we're across the street now and we're in town. I'm going to save nightlife and music for another chapter but suffice to say that on the topic of having fun, the corner juice stands and beer spots are never short for customers cooling off and loudly enjoying themselves. So let's keep moving away from the beach through Ipanema, pass my hostel, and lo and behold, five blocks from the beach the buildings open again and you are gazing out across the immense Lagoa de Freitas. Various mountains thrust up in the background, dwarfing the high rises in front of them, Corcovado and the Christo dominate the horizon, gazing out at everything, and the lake extends in all directions surrounded by treelined side walks and giant apartment buildings. Cranes, geese, ducks, and those awesome pterodactyl black birds ply the waters and fish, as do a few humans with nets here and there. On the lake you will see people kayaking, skulling in six person canoes, and paddling about in giant geese shaped paddleboats. Around the lake people walk, jog, and bike, or play tennis, soccer, baseball, volleyball, workout, or even practise their skulling in a couple of stationary water mounted canoes around the lake. And if chilling is your thing, there are probably a 100 or more restaurants and juice bars around the lake, with options ranging from acai and grilled cheese sandwiches to upscale sushi and candlelight.

So all the above is just your usual everyday stuff. When we get to the weekend we multiply times ten. Two whole lanes of the beach traffic are closed and everyone comes out for a stroll. Walking their dogs, roller blading, skateboarding, juggling, playing music, people watching, etc. The paddling geese on the lake multiply. The congestion on the bike and jogging paths become downright dangerous. And the corner bar beer sipping goes epidemic. The parks hold craft fairs, others sprout stages and have live music. I eventually rented an apartment, since hostel living wears thin and with a month lease I was paying about the same yet had my own space with kitchen, bath, and double bed. My apartment was right next to Praça General Osorio, where the famous "hippie fair" happens every sunday. So that's a taste of what the cariocas get up to on an average day- never a dull moment, and always looking to have fun and enjoy life. It's what has always attracted me to Brasil, the passion for living in the moment and not missing an opportunity to enjoy life, and partake of simple pleasures. I think Americans could learn a thing or two from the Brazilians, but after five months here, I see now how the Brazilians could take a few pointers from us as well.

So that somewhat covers the day times, but Rio is no less famous for the after dark goings on. The quantity of bars, restaurants, chill spots, street parties, diescoteques, live music spots, theaters, shows in the park, beach concerts, and happening places in Rio is inexhaustible, but I did my best. My first nights out I kept it local, which is fine bacause many of the great spots are right in Ipanema. One thing I noticed right away is that despite the size of the city, I kept seeing the same people, usually casual friends from the night before. This made things very comfortable and home-like, to be able to go somewhere strange and new and already know people. And then I would be out with friends and see other people I knew and they would know my friends too, it was good to feel part of something. I began to call Rio the biggest small town I'd ever lived in. My time in Rio was spent with a number of good party buddies (wing men, if you will). The first was Brett.

Oops my plane is landing in Buenos >Aires.- To Be Continued...