Sturgey and the Bedster: In Residence

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Jake:

It was on a Copacabana beach, as we walked in relative bliss, dipping our happy little toes in the cool wash and revelling in a manner to which we were fast becoming accustomed that I happened to turn some sums over in me brains. After what should have taken a far shorter time (the proud owner of a C in GSCE and thats with a home tutor) it came to light that financially we could keep ourselves afloat dipping in and out of the hostels of Rio for little more than a couple of weeks. Needless to say this was a shocking revelation which needed immediate attention; afterall we had finally found a place in the continent from which we didn´t derive the immediate compulsion to get as far away from it as possible. Loth was I to leave in a hurry let me tell you. So, returning in a soured mood we discussed our options. The following days saw us not in our rightful place on our towels in the sun or drinking caipirinhas at our hotel but instead trudging no small distance to a number of cheap hostels which had each closed down at some point following the publication of our Lonely Planet Guide in March last year. Incidentally ´South America on a Shoestring´ proved itself perfectly accurate through Peru and Bolivia but woefully inadequate in impatiently modernising Brazil.

Our last resort, for which we held little store, was to somehow find an apartment. We had passed a place the day before which was closed for Sunday and decided to return the following day to try our luck. In the taxi we joked about the ideal conversation with an estate agent regarding our predicament. Our wistful conversation was more or less as follows:

´Do you have any really cheap apartments really close to the beach to rent but only for one month?´
´Yes´
´When can we move in?´
´Today.´
´Nice doing business with you.´

It would seem that the Father´s Son, proudly embracing this cracking little city astride Corcovado Hill has no limit to what he shall provide, because that was also the dialog to our real-life non-fiction conversation at the estate agents. Our Savior even threw in a comical Borat accent (not so much ´yes´ and ´hyayess!´) for good measure.

That night we found ourselves in a quaint, clean little apartment on the 10th floor of 135 Prado Junior, 20 seconds from the beach, and everything was as it should be again. What a city.


Rach:

Having caught glimpses of the ever-present statue of Cristo Redentor, one of the New Seven Wonders of the World, through the buildings of Ipanema and Copacabana, we decided that since we now have a base from which to explore the city it was high time to take a break from frolicking in the sand and surf to ride to the top of Corcovado Mountain to see the Son of God up close.
When we alighted the bus at the foot of the mountain we were immediately accosted by a group of taxi drivers wanting to take us to the peak in their cabs. It turned out that their tours actually offered an extra stop off with alternative views of the city to that of the other form of transport to the top - the cog train - so we hitched a lift with a burly black man who insisted on the constant mentioning of Tony Blair with a broad grin on his face.
It turned out that Christ somehow loses his presence and grandeur when up close; the statue, which appears so celestial from the ground, becomes the centrepiece around which noisy tourists clamour to get the perfect photo and a great deal of pushing is needed to get to the railings from where you can really appreciate the view. The first viewpoint in the taxi proved to be worth the extra few reais as it was much quieter, we even had a group of monkeys waiting for us at the top.

We also paid a visit to the citys Botanical Gardens which are serenely beautiful and provided the perfect setting for a few games of Hazza and a peaceful stroll under towering palm trees and through cactus and rose gardens.
And so we had made our first steps of exploration of this wonderous city, yet as there is just so much to do here we had barely left a mark.

Stugey and the Bedster x

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Photos

51 Makes Caipirinhas
Erm...that´s why we´ve consumed so much of it!