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Outside the Stadium
This is what it felt like... Greetings again from Rio! I hope this email finds you all in good spirits and good health.
As some of you know there is a sport here that is so closely watched, followed and played that its presence is intricately woven into the national psyche of Brazil. This is not surprising since Brazil is the only country to have won five World Cup matches (1958, '62, '70, '94 and '02). From a young age, children learn to value a football (soccer ball) and pitch skills like a hoard of Spanish gold. It seems as though any stranger can become a friend simply by donning the favored colors of one’s most followed team. The frenzy of a match can drive crazed fans to fire cups of urine, dead chickens, and beer bottles in any direction, at friend or foe. Smoke bombs in team colors erupt as frequently as fire crackers on the fourth of July. The match is no less colorful as Brazilians are known to play some of the most intense, artistic and thrilling football in the world. The player’s ability to tiptoe their way through defenses sometimes reminds one of a Baryshnikov ballet, choreographed as a masterpiece without equal.
Not only their play is dramatic but so is the amazing acting that takes place when attempting to draw a foul. I have seen players, touched ever so slightly by an opponent, hurl themselves screaming in the opposite direction and lie on the ground moaning, wailing and clutching a leg until a stretcher is brought for them. After their Oscar-winning performance (good enough to have you believe they may actually die from being accidentally stepped on) they limp around the field for thirty seconds only to return to full capacity by the time the ball gets back to them.
The shrine of Rio football and possibly the entire country is the stadium Maracana. Located in down town Rio this enormous structure holds 90,000 people and is the home field of four teams: Flamengo, Fluminense, Vasco da Gama and Botafogo. The evening of the 20th of May was my first live football match and what a match it was. The spirit of the stadium was amazing and the electricity of the crowd intense. The game was between Fluminense and a team from Sao Paulo called Corinthians, the team of the famed player Ronaldo. The match ended in a 2-2 draw
but the spectacle of the match, the fans, the style and pace of play ended up being a huge win for me. It was a crazy time. I wish I could understand Portuguese so I could sing along to all of the chants and cheers specific to each team as well as understand what enraged fans were shouting at their players when things were going awry. I did catch a few words here and there but they are surely to inappropriate to be listed.
Another fabulous adventure took place last Saturday night when I randomly went to Barra de Tijuca, a suburb just south of the city. Though I went there at night it was obvious why Rio and the surrounding areas are one of the world's most populated places. Huge sky-rise apartment buildings project themselves into the night sky, looking like office buildings in most cities. The trip to the 'burbs happened by chance and was one of those travel experiences when you think so many things could go wrong but maybe, just maybe things will work out and you will have a great time...so you go for it.
The Hostelling International I stayed at in downtown
Ipanema was a very nice place, situated on a quiet street in a very nice Rio neighborhood. The place was inhabited mostly by groups of people who hung together on their own and my only dorm roommate, a 50 year old Japanese man named Matsumoto who seemed to be a solitary person by nature. Thus, I hung out by myself at night, playing guitar, drinking beers and speaking to the desk attendant Daniel and a friend of his whose name I could not pronounce but sounded a bit like "tiny" so that is what I called her. She informed me that she came to hang out because it was Daniel's birthday and he was working. Then all of a sudden at 10 PM Daniel said to me, "I am getting off work now, you should come to Barra and we can go to the bars and drink beers on the beach. After, you can take a bus back to Ipanema."
At that point everything inside me said wow, this is a bad idea. You have never taken a bus in this city and they seem very confusing. You cannot speak Portuguese so you cannot ask the bus driver to
stop or let you know when you get to Ipanema. Where the hell is Barra and what kind of idea is this, going out late in Rio, a city known for its crime and muggings. Plus, I do not even really know these people, what if it ends up being like the movie
Tourista where unsuspecting Americans get kidnapped and tortured somewhere in Brazil after being lured out to party? So I said, "Sure, sounds like fun! As long as you get me on a bus at the end of the night, I am in!" And with that I put my trust in the gods of travel, got in Daniel's car (no, he was not drinking beers yet), turned up the Ipod and screamed south out of Rio to Barra for a late night adventure.
We had a fantastic time, going bar hopping and beach-beer-hut hopping with Daniel's friends. We laughed, ate and enjoyed being young and in the company of new and exciting people and circumstances. All of the positivity that could and might, did play out. When it was finally time to bed at 3 AM we walked to the bus stop and I prepared for the
most difficult part of the night, getting back to Ipanema.
In Rio the buses are a bit different than then are in the states. There are designated stops yes, but the bus you want does not always stop unless you hail for the driver to pull over and pick you up. At that point the bus comes to a screeching halt just long enough to open the doors and get you in before the doors hit you on the backside. Then the bus accelerates to speeds likely to make you lose your stomach. Quite an experience for a certain young man who was full of beer and cheer and had no idea where he was or if he would even be able to recognize the road he was on. Either way, the bus laid down rubber as it picked me up and resumed its course. As we hurdled through urban areas at speeds nearing 40 miles an hour only to slow down with neck popping "taps" on the hydraulic brakes while weaving in and out of the traffic (amazingly existent at 3 in the morning) I wondered how this leg of my adventure would work out. Truthfully, I just kept thinking, "Okay, feel it out, when you feel like you should be close start looking around intently for anything familiar." Yes I was counting on the same feeling to guide me home, just as it had guided me out. Just then, when I was getting a little uncomfortable at not recognizing landmarks I recognized a tatoo shop just down the street from my hostel. I stood up (not smart) and pulled the "STOP REQUESTED" cord and was almost shot through the front window of the bus as we came to a near immediate stop. Hahahaha!!! I had done it!
I slept soundly and late, and the next day rejoiced sleepily in my previous night's adventures. Truly, fabulous.
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