Into Rio...Carnival Time and the End of an Era

---

Our last morning in Paraty was an early start, after which we were divided into 3 separate groups to head into Rio (our trusty truck Jack was in need of some TLC so was sadly unable to transport us), split between another Tucan truck and 2 Budget Trucks. Enjoying a pub quiz along the way, several hours later we hit the outskirts of Brazil´s biggest city, signalling the end of the road for many of our crew. Upon arrival in the city, Jo and I hit the streets to get a feel for the place, stopping off at a comida por kilo vegetarian buffet along the way for a speedy lunch. The city had a palpable feel of excitement in the air, with everyone gearing up for the biggest party in the world, shops beginning to get boarded up and street vendors taking their places on the corners ready for business. That evening we all headed out for the last group meal for many of the tour, sadly a slightly insipid Italian due to sheer numbers in our group, but afterwards things improved as we went out dancing in a club under the Lapa Arches, getting our first proper taste of the samba rhythms that provide the heartbeat of the city, eventually retiring very early around 2am. The following day we were graced with reasonable weather, the first we had seen for some time, and made the most of the opportunity by hiring a taxi (running on natural gas - many Brazilian cars are using alternate fuels now) for the day to head out and see the sights of the Jewel of Brazil. Heading first towards Christ the Redeemer, we had to change our plans due to a very inconvenient bank of cloud obscuring the statue, so we moved on to Pao d'Azucar (the Sugarloaf) instead, from where fantastic views of the city were offered and you can really get a feel for how everything moulds together. Thankfully with a weather improvement, we managed to get up to ol' JC to see the city from the other side (the taxi ride up was most entertaining - the Corcovado hill is rather steep!) before hopping into a helicopter for a bird's eye view of the sights. Somewhat exhilirated we drove back to the hotel for a quick bit of down time before hurrying down to the shops to buy clothes for the Red & Black ball that we were due to attend later that evening. With shops shutting left, right and centre around us, Matt and I struggled to find anywhere to buy red or black clothing, but eventually happened upon appropriate attire.

Dedicated to the strip of the local Flamenco football team, the Red & Black ball is notorious for being one of the most outrageous in Rio and is held at a massive gay club in downtown Ipanema. Well lubricated on mojitos and raspberry martinis, we mosied on in via metal detectors and a quick frisk (Rio not having the best of reputations), and were confronted with a samba band and a sweaty mass of people with some very interesting "ladies" punctuating the crowd (trannies and he-shes are rather commonplace in this city and they all come out to play at Carnival). Thankfully the chance of mistaking these gents for ladies is slim, possibly due to the fact that many of them are very stocky and over 6ft, have massive hands, Adam's apples and suspiciously deep voices. Aside from these characters, the crowd was surprisingly tame, although still a heaving throng, but none of the debauchery that we were expecting was witnessed so the last of us called it a night around 5am.

Waking reasonably early and very hungover the next day, we were treated to rain, rain and yet more rain, and I was less than pleased to discover that my camera had packed up (delayed result of it getting drenched in Paraty even through my "waterproof" jacket) and that shopping for a new one would prove impossible as literally NO shops were open in town. Even something so simple as trying to find an internet cafe proved too difficult, so having traipsed around in vain searching for new cameras, we gave up, ate some excellent street meat kebabs, loitered around the local bloco (street party) for a bit and then collapsed back in the hotel, to where I was confined for the rest of the afternoon due to a very volatile stomach, sadly missing the main focus for the afternoon where everyone went to the Maracana stadium to catch a local football game (flares, flags and fights aplenty in the largest stadium in the world). That evening, having thankfully recovered somewhat, we went out for dinner before retiring early, most uncharcateristic of me and shameful in the party capital of the world.

Feeling nicely energised the following morning, the weather was again against us as drizzle turned into downpour just in time for our favela tour, surely one of the highlights of Rio. Favelas are shanty towns/slums with people erecting their own houses out of whatever materials come to hand wherever a space can be found and have a bad reputation in terms of violence, as this is where all the poor in the cities live (wealth distribution is one of Brazil's largest social problems, with some 5% of the populus owning 90% of the wealth) and most are run by the local drug tsars with a nonexistent police presence. Despite the seemingly dangerous nature of these visits, these tours offer security (they inject money into the local economy so gringos are fiercely protected) and provide a valuable insight into the true nature of Brazilian society, revealing a caring, sharing and close knit community. Furthermore the favela in particular that we visited was one of the oldest and most established, fairly far removed from the bleak picture painted by such films as City of God. Our first stop was to a samba school, where the guys were still drunk/drinking from their Carnival float outing the previous night, with costumes strewn all over the floor - fascinating as so much work goes into the design and construction of these outfits, for one night of the year, and then they are discarded. Moving on, we divided into two smaller groups and wandered on in to the depths of the favela, passing a couple of friendly gents with Uzis guarding a drug safehouse (with no police presence the drug lords rule the favelas, and drug production aside very little criminal activity goes on within their confines as offenders are dealt with via rough justice)along the way. Moving through the maze of streets (very claustrophobic), underneath spaghetti junctions of power cables and via vibrant markets where everything was on sale, before stopping off at a nice lady's house offering fantastic views of the sprawl of makeshift buildings up into the hills and down towards the sea where a single road separates them from apartments costing millions of Reais.

In the afternoon we were all still buzzing from our tour, and headed off via tram (old style, crazy, hanging on to the sides of it for dear life as it crosses high bridges at breakneck speeds) to the bohemian district of San Teresa for some excellent local food (feijado, a black bean stew with meat and manioc flour that tastes divine) and an awful lot of expensive tat shopping for the girls. Having eventually dragged them away, we wandered on down the deocrated staircase towards Lapa. Designed by a Chilean artist originally just in the colours of the Brazilian flag, the steps are covered in a veritable rainbow of smashed tiles from all over the world and are constantly evolving as the artist adds requests. At the bottom of the steps a mural proclaimed Brazil to be beautiful - underneath this lay a massive pile of rubbish. Such is the duality of this wonderful country.

That evening everyone got together for one last hurrah to head on masse to the Sambadromo, the showground for all the carnival floats, to watch the six parades of the evening. Each favela has its own samba school parade with a specific theme, dances, music and floats and spend up to 9 months in preparation for their big day where they compete with the other favelas for first place. The floats and costumes are of exceptionally high quality, and are each funded by the favela drug lords, ensuring their ongoing popularity with their local neighbourhoods as the costs would otherwise be prohibitive. Each parade takes an hour and a half to get from start to finish in the dromo, with as many people as possible being incorporated into the dances and extra points being awarded for cutting it close to the deadline. After the third procession, people were beginning to wane, until the fourth came on and blew us all away (its theme being save the environment - one of the floats was modelled into a massive roaring jaguar for example), although the final two became increasingly hard work (the samba music deviates little over the course of the hour and a half) and the rain started to come down heavily. Finally, the sixth parade passed the finish line and we scrambled back to the hotel, stopping only for breakfast (it was 6am by then) before collapsing into a much needed sleep.

Our penultimate day in Rio was unsurprisingly off to a rather late start from the previous night's festivities, so once we were functioning, Matt, Jo and I headed down to the sea to cruise along Ipanema and Copacabana beaches, although rain was sadly still interfering with our plans at enjoying the proper beach vibes. Nontheless we took each other's photos in the drizzle against what should be white sands and azure seas, before heading to a nice cafe for Matt to enjoy his down time (coffee, paper, ignoring everyone else...) and walked most of the 4km length of Copacabana, stopping to admire the fantastic sand sculptures and occasionally heading inland to try and find open shops (why do Kodak shops here NOT sell cameras??!) to no avail before meeting up with some of the others for a very nice comida por kilo feed. Worn out from pounding the streets, we headed out for a couple of drinks close to home before retiring to the hotel room and enjoying ice cold beer from our fridge (mmmm) while watching the carnival festivities on TV.

The last day in the city offered better weather at long last, and we all went our separate ways to soak in more sights, so in a last ditched attempt I headed out to a big shopping centre in search of cameras (I was going spare by this point - thankfully it had worked for Corcovado and Pao d'Azucar but I had to borrow other people's cameras to take favela and sambadrome pics). Good sized centre, which actually sold some cameras (nothing decent and all very pricey) but NOTHING was open again apart from the food court. Despondent I headed out back onto the beach to wander aimlessly for a while before wending my way back to the hotel for some tearful goodbyes and to meet the new group for our pre-departure meeting. As half the old group were staying on, there were not that many newbies to remember, and having already been out for drinks with a few of them there weren't that many new names to remember, which was very nice. Later, our new guide, Mark, took us all out to yet another comida por kilo restaurant (you do not get bored of them - the choice of food is immense) for a meet and greet, although few of the newbies attended and the evening petered out after a couple of drinks with the usual suspects in favour of sleep before the pending departure the following morning for the next leg of the trip and a new era.
Distance travelled around South America to date, Quito - Rio = 21,527km.

---