Where´s Barry Manilow

---

22 March 2005 : Set off from Hitchin
We left in good time. Behind us was a house not ready for letting:
* Cupboards to empty
* Rubbish for the tip
* Essential work needed for fire certificate
* Carpet to lay
* House to clean
Not to worry - Kate, David, Jackie, Peter, Elaine and Joey will take care of it.(Thanks!)

When we tried to collect the tickets at Heathrow there was considerable delay. Initially BA staff said there were too many flights for ‘the system’ to print and they would write them out by hand. Thirty minutes later they were struggling but after an hour the system coughed up the full set of tickets, approximately the size and weight of two cheque books each.

On to check-in. This was a single snaking queue of approx 120 people and two counters open. Eventually we were re-routed to a different queue which had around eight counters open. The electronic signs were not working correctly and counter staff often had to resort to arm-waving and various types of ‘yoo-hoo’ to attract the attention of the next in line. We got through to the departure lounge about 45 mins before takeoff and were pleasantly surprised by the closeness of the boarding gate.

We boarded and the plane took off only about ten minutes late. Owen and Rory were delighted to have multi-channel mini TV screens to watch. At lights out I tried sleeping and managed to doze in snatches.
23 March 2005 : Arrive in Brazil, travel from Sao Paolo to Rio de Janeiro
We landed on time at Sao Paolo and had no trouble with baggage or customs. As we had no Brazilian Reals we thought it a good idea to try out the ATM at the airport. The first machine did not accept either mine or Deb’s cards. We tried the (identical) machine next to it and it worked fine with Deb’s card.
On to the bus ticket office, four tickets (24R each) for Rodoviaria Tiete and the next bus leaves in 10 minutes at 06:40. Then a 25 min drive in fairly heavy traffic through wasteland, primitive housing and advertising hoardings. Often alongside the muddy-looking river which seemed to be having its’ banks rebuilt - whether for aesthetic or practical reasons was not clear.

We got out at Tiete and I realised once again how heavy my pack was - do I really need this lot ? We made our way upstairs to the concourse and found a ticket office for Rio. Another good connection - the next one was due to depart at 07:41, that’s 15 minutes time. I got 4 tickets at 55R each then we nearly came unstuck.
As the journey would be about 6 hours I thought we ought to grab something to eat and drink. I set off with Rory to find a snack bar, expecting Deb and Owen to follow. We ordered our provisions and I realised I had no money. Deb was nowhere in site. I tried to explain but not knowing the Portuguese for ‘My wife has all my money’ I simply said ‘cinquo minutos’ which may well have flummoxed them and ran off with Rory. We caught up with them at the departure point, I grabbed some money and rushed back upstairs to pay where the food was waiting in two carrier bags. Back down to board the bus and another delay.
It seems that to travel on the long-distance bus you must enter your passport number on the ticket. Frantic scribbling by Deb did the trick. We finally boarded and were each handed a goody bag ‘for your lunch’ containing no substantial food but it did have fruit juice, biscuits, cake and salty snacks - a welcome addition to the ordinary baguettes I had bought.

The journey was not particularly eventful, the road in most places being good dual-carriageway. At one point we were boarded by two policemen looking for something/someone but nothing happened. The landscape gradually became hillier with more and more striking cone-shaped masses. At one point (Serra de Araras) the road was so steep and winding that they have built a second road which goes a different route around the hillside so there are now two two-lane roads, like a dual carriageway with a central reservation a mile across in parts.

We arrived in Rio and was it hot ! Having only minimal directions to our accommodation I asked one of the station staff for help. At her suggestion we boarded a bus which I thought would take us to the Metro. No said the driver, along with lots of other words. (Why have I spent no time on Portuguese ?) When he realised I could not even understand numbers he kindly wrote it on the hardcopy of the directions I was carrying. When I pointed out the other bus numbers he seemed to say yes they’re OK too. ‘Obrigado’ said I and set off to find a bus stop.
Outside was almost a nightmare. I strode confidently past the taxi drivers but on reaching the corner it was not obvious where our bus should stop. A man approached and out came a torrent of Portuguese including the word ‘bush’ several times. Perhaps he thinks I’m from the US and wants a discussion on American foreign policy ?. Listening more closely he seemed to say ‘bush or taxi’. He was trying to help ! Why do we always think the worst of people ?
In reply I said ‘bush Botafogo’ and he gestured towards a line of buses.
We trailed up and down them but could not find ours (remember I’ve still got my pack on and the bus stops have a decidedly doggie smell - not comfortable). I showed our directions to one of the many transport staff who were lolling around chatting. She pointed us back the way we came and across the road opposite ‘bush or taxi’.
We got round the corner and the bus was in - brilliant. We got on. Aaaagh, like most public buses there is a narrow turnstile to negotiate. Off with the packs, get through, haul them over, then try and explain where we think we’re going and can the conductress give us a shout at our stop ? We, including Owen, thought she had understood. As we saw the Casa de Rui Barbosa glide by about 20 mins later we realised she had not. We got off at the next stop.
OK where’s the Rua Estacio Coimbra number 84 ? Never mind the 84, where’s the Rua. The man at the bus stop did not know. The woman in the laundrette did not know though she did point out we were currently on Rua Sao Clemente, which we already knew.
We headed back towards Casa de Rui Barbosa and sure enough almost opposite was Estacio Coimbra. Worryingly the sign said 37-67. We trudged along to the end and the numbers did not appear to reach 84. Standing in the hot sun a voice called out ‘are you looking for the Vila Carioca ?’ - we had arrived and they even knew my name !

We dumped our stuff and changed out of our travel clothes and boots, then set off for Botafogo beach while a fourth bed was installed in our room. The beach was only half a mile away, the main problem being how to safely cross the numerous roads and intersections on the sea-front to get to it.

After an hour or so lazing on the beach we went in search of a supermercado and found a branch of Mundial, the longest, narrowest, most congested place I’ve ever had to shop. The silver lining was that it was air-conditioned.

We emerged with water, beer, wine, pasta, fruit etc and strolled back to the hostel. By now it was around 6pm so we had a leisurely drink in the courtyard before cooking tea and went fairly early to bed.

The air was still humid and the air-conditioning was limited to 23:00-08:00. Even when it came to 23:00 the air-conditioning did not work. Result was an unsettled night but we all slept from sheer exhaustion.
24 March 2005 : Copacabana and Corcovado in the clouds
Waking about 6am I had another look at the air-conditioning and noticed a small push-button labelled liga/desliga.I pushed it and hey presto lots of noise and cool air gushed from the hole in the wall.

Having read somewhere that there was a hiking trail up to Corcovado I asked the staff how to get a bus to Sylvestre, the beginning of the trail. She looked at me as if I were loopy and pointed out that you can catch the trem up the hill. I established that though it is possible it may not be that easy, especially for Rory, unless you’re used to hill walking in 28 degrees plus high humidity.

Instead we caught the metro to Copacabana and headed straight for RioTur the tourist information office via an amazing fruit market with some stalls devoted to a single fruit such as limes, mangoes and other unidentified things. We arrived at RioTur and it was closed for Easter until Tuesday 28th.

Never mind, we were in sight of the sea and went straight to the beach. Magnificent with super views and crashing surf. We spent a couple of hours doing almost nothing except paddling, digging holes in the sand, taking snaps, and of course getting slightly sunburnt as this was our first real exposure to strong sun (despite the overcast skies) for some time.

We walked along the water’s edge to the Leme end hoping to find a trail across the promontory to Vermelha (I’m sure this translates as Tomato) beach but no joy. We backtracked to Av Isabel to pick up water and snacks and then find a bus to somewhere.

My idea was to go to Corcovado on the 583. Finding a 583 stop we waited and watched as the first one sailed by. The trick here is to suicidally run into the dual carriageway doing anything you can to attract the driver’s attention. The next one was impossible to flag as there was a line of other buses between us and it. After that the goal was to get on any of 3 buses which would take us somewhere we had not been. Along came a 583 and stopped.

On to Cosme Velho, the boarding point for the cog-driven Trem de Corcovado. After a slight difficulty with my lack of cash and my malfunctioning debit card we got our tickets and took our seats. The ascent was interesting as it runs through a section of the Tijuca park, a recreation of Atlantic rainforest including 20ft high plants that reach 18 inches max as houseplants in the UK.

Unfortunately the cloud cover increased as we neared the top. Disembarking we walked up the steps rather than take the lift, after all we have to have some exercise. Sure enough all that was visible was the scaffolding around the sculpture’s base plus the merest hint of outstretched arms above. Similarly the renowned views were nowhere to be seen. We hung around for half an hour but there was little change. The boys were not too bothered as we bought them a burger on the way back down.

Back on the bus to the supermarket. Then the rain began. Back at the hostel we sat around the sheltered edges of the courtyard thinking how pleasant the rain was and how it may even ‘clear the air’ a little.

---

Photos

Owen plus one
Owen conjuring a tiny girl from his shorts at Copa

Serra de Araras dual carriageway
The other carriageway is just visible in the distance