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Published: December 11th 2008
Lapa time
Westside, Eastside and Highfive!Arriving in Heeo we found Reef and Emelie hanging in the hostel in Botafogo with some tattooed Swedes. We thought they'd be shaking their things at some favela funk party, but a late finish at the Maracana watching Flamego had meant they'd missed their transport and were around to welcome us to the 'cidade maravilhosa' and to front some local currency for our cab fare. Happy days.
We spent a day cruising Copacabana and the previously unfamiliar Downtown area. In Copa we were surprised by the ferocity of the pissing-down-rain and later by the knee deep rivers of run off in the streets. We weren't the only ones. Locals sheltering from the downpour or wading through the Venice-like waterways looked just as also bemused. Rubber sandals and beachwear turned out to be the perfect choice...shame that Reef was flexing his new dazzling white trainer/slipper hybrids.
Before the heavens opened we'd witnessed Reef's advanced haggling technique for the first time. This involved saying 'muito caro' (very expensive), whenever anyone quoted a price. It seemed to me that pretending to be short of cash while looking foreign, wearing $100 sneakers and hanging with other un-brazilian looking folks was not the most
effective blag but you learn something new every day!?
After only limited haggling success we hung out in Campo Santa Ana park, where there was a little glimpse of what the city might have looked like before the all the people arrived and the buildings sprang up: essentially boulders and huge trees. It was also where there were a lot of cats, (which captivated one of us), some weird turkey things, over sized rodents called capybara and a few expressive peacocks. The park got me to thinking about the ongoing struggle there must be to keep the jungle in check. The park was just one of number of places in Rio where the more natural state of things is allowed to peep through and sometimes to reclaim lost ground. (Tijuca National Forest, the Botanical Gardens and another massive reserve i've forgotten the name of).
That night took us to Lapa in search of the 'best party in Heeo'. Carioca da Gema wasn't it, though it was a good place for middle aged, middle of the road Samba lovers. And tourists like us of course. I was hoping for something more...well MORE, especially as it turned out Nat and
I had been to exactly the same place on our last visit and been underwhelmed then.
After a little drink supping, toe tapping and old man befriending, a group of us hit the streets looking for where 'it' was at. We ended up drinking Skols (Brazilian beers) by the famous Arcos do Lapa, near the reknowned Escadaria Selaron, close to the bit of Lapa/Santa Teresa where you're supposed to watch yourself. It was only after a couple of hours of good alfresco revelry that a loitering chancer attempted to get paid, by suggesting we hand over some cash in exchange for him not robbing us at gunpoint. Drunk and sensing a bluff (mostly),we told him to go fuck himself with a lot of help from a local guy who'd in seconds become our new-best-friend/guardian angel. We left minutes later. The party sucked anyway!
The next day Remelie, Nathalie and I headed for Ilha Grande just off the Costa Verde coast on a Costa Verde bus to meet with Ritch and Flo and convene our sextet of homies from home.
High five and tudo bem! We found Flitch waiting on the ferry, tanned but suffering the effects of
a healthy lifestyle. All the good food, fresh air, exercise, sleep and lack of 'partay' (bar the wine country mash up and i'm sure a few more of 'those' nights) meant they were looking all shiny and new. We celebrated with Guarana (Brazilian soda) and warm cachaca cocktails. Muito bom! Nao!?
Our first night at Aquario on the island included a barbeque with caipirhinas thrown in, which appeared to attract most of the fudge-backers in town: Hungarian Liverpudlians, cackling Moroccans, Danes, French, Argentines all aided and abetted by Brazilian dudes and a woman throwing handfuls of salt over anything edible. I joined the bar iPod battle which involved playing one tune from my pod then being told by the owner that it was shit and returning 5 minutes later to put on something else when his selection was boo-ed off the sound system....and repeat!
Our paradise island was unfortunately not blessed with the sunshine you'd expect in paradise. But hey we'd made the link up, so when it pissed down we hung out and holidayed in our lodgings...day and night! 3 bunk beds in a room seemed an ok idea to start with, but after a few days
of rain followed by sun then by greyness and more rain, an under-sized dorm with a non-draining bathroom and damp clothes, was less appealling. Not least because any 'sexy time' would have been weird. Plus Nat and I realised that dorm life was a little bit 'last year' as far as we were concerned......onwards and out of here!
As a gang of 6 we figured our bargaining power was enhanced. "I've got six friends..." was gonna make miracles happen. It worked with Gilmar the manager of our new lodgings at Vivenda das Bromelias, which was a 'phat crib' compared to the damp cellblock at Aquario. Ritch figured keeping 'six friends' chilled out in the lounge when it was pissing down could be an incentive for Gilmar to sort us some weed. I figured calling him Jilliam all the time wasn't a help.
The sun did show up enough for us all to spend a few days on the beach, bat and balling(!?) and trekking the trails across the island looking for steep muddy bits, waterfalls and soaking up the natural beauty. There was enough sunshine too to burn Nat's head, Reef's knees and to provide a suitable back
drop to a day at 'one of the worlds best beaches': Lopes Mendes.
The soundtrack was composed of crashing waves, the sand squeaking beneath six pairs of feet and the shrieking of lightweights as they entered the skin tinglingly refreshing ocean. It was the kind of beach you dream of spending days and weeks on, especially if you've got to catch a flight home in a week or so. Now that's what i'm talking about....I've got six friends!
Emelie's birthday was celebrated in the sunshine on the water with some snorkelling, followed by a standard but tasty brazilian lunch of rice, feijao, farofa, chips and your choice of meat or fish. We then spent the night caipirinha-ing with Gilmar, a couple of Argentinans (and their tea) and a funky dog! The music played, the iPod battle resumed, we samba-ed badly, received golden tattoos from Flo and drank until the cachaca, wine and vodka were spent. Flo and Emelie also got some oversized sausage that night that they were less than impressed with. Mental note for the boys.
Nat and I returned to Rio ahead of the others to do some shopping and missed that one last gloriously
sunny day on Ilha Grande we'd been hoping for. Still, the travelbags got stuffed with bargain price Havianas and other Brazilian wares. When the homegirls did arrive the next night it was THE night for the Lapa street party. After a challenging meat (and sushi) feast at the churrascuria, (where approval/disapproval ratings were mixed, due to the hard-sell of beef, beef, sausage, beef, chicken, beefbeefbeef), we headed out.
This time the streets were heaving, a bit like Notting Hill, but with a higher concentration of places to get a caipirinha or a fat sausage on a stick. It was like discovering our own El Dorado. No passive-aggressive mugging tactics this time, but music, dancing, cocktails and an Aerosmith ruining tequila game. The decision as to who was the winner depended on when the game ended...that night tequila-ed up at the impromptu 4am pool party or the next afternoon tequila-ed out hobbling up the cobbled hill to Santa Teresa dodging the tram and the sunshine. If Friday night in Lapa was a only a small part of what happens on any old Friday night in Rio, then carnival, new year and any other minor occasion must be mental.
A
good example of the difference in energy and attitude is where Brazilians celebrate the run up to lent with one week of samba-ing and caipirinhas at carnival while Brits use up their eggs and sugar on Shrove Tuesday.
One last night of Rio nightlife took us to to a party on Sugarloaf mountain. A chance meeting in Casa Mango Mango with the manager of Groove Armada meant we were stuck on the guestlist for one of the duo's B-live world tour nights....mixing with some of the 'we-think-we're-beautiful' people on a hill in Rio with laayzers that fully amazed Nathalie (hands the air Le Marre), was a cool finish to a fortnight in Brasil. It was just a shame that Flitch were confined to quarters with a sore foot and tequila poisoning.
After two weeks hanging with the homegirls, we wished farewell and 'boa viagem' to one pair, as they headed up to Salvador on a long bus and to the other, who were heading for Saquarema for some long boarding. Hope the good (health) life returns/begins as you wend your ways through luxuriant pastures new.
Ate logo girls.....if anyone asks, you've got more than six friends and
no doubt there will be a few more on their way to meet you sooner or later!
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Flo
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nice one Jay...it was so good to see you guys x love the pictures, makes it seem like the sun shined everyday...which it does when you´re hanging with your homies ;)