New Year in Rio

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We arrived into Rio at 6am Brazil time, but still 3am Peruvain time. We had no idea what the exchange rate was, or how much 'reais' were worth, but armed with out printed map sent from our hostel, we knew a taxi was going to cost around 60-100 reais. We paid 90 and hopped into our taxi, esctatic to be going back to the beach.

The weather was overcast which was a bit disappointing. We knew it was rainy season but we had seen photos from previous years and it had looked alright. The ride took about 20 minutes and we drove on a highway that separated two favelas which are shanty towns where people live illegally. This road is famous because apparently there are shoot outs across the road between the two favelas, but it seemed pretty safe to us and the favelas just looked like the rest of the poor towns in South America.

It mentioned on the hostel map that we may find it difficult to get a taxi right up to the hostel as many refuse to drive up the steep cobbled road. We took this with a pinch of salt, but the owner was not kidding- the road was about 25 degrees off vertical. Fortunately our taxi driver was kind and as we had already paid up front he had no choice other than to take us right to the front door. As we got out of the car a suspicious favela man was hanging around so we tried to delay the taxi driver by being slow with our bags whilst at the same time praying for someone to hurry up and open the door. Our hostel was situated next door to the gate which accessed a favela apparently. We never saw beyond the gate to find out.

We were fortunately greeted by an Aussie hostel worker called Zena, and the owner's crazy hound Princesa. We were told to ignore the dog as apparently she doesn't leave you alone. We thought this meant she liked fuss so we proceeded to stroke her. She enjoyed it for a while then started to attack us biting our hands and ankles. We tried to push her away but she thought it was a game as she was a puppy and had not seemed to have had any training. Ah no wonder Zena didn't actually mention the fact that she bites as we entered the hostel.

We checked in and were immediately disgusted at the state of the place. It was a complete dump and stank of dog and poo. We were lead to our room which was no better- the beds were child size, and less than a metre separated each set of bunks. There were 14 beds in our room and one tiny bathroom containing one toilet and a disgusting repulsive shower with a blocked drain. There was another dorm (with we don't know how many people in it) also sharing the same bathroom. There was one other bathroom in the whole hostel, and al least two other dorms. So about 30-40 people sharing two bathrooms; one of which had an overflowing shower. Recipe for disaster.

We were planning to go to bed when we got there but the beds were covered in disgusting rags for sheets, and it was hot- we really weren't feeling like it anymore. This was when we met our friends Sabryna and Martin, two Brits travelling separately but who had met on the interenet when looking to see if anyone else was doing Rio for New Year. We got chatting to them and they were really nice- they told us that they were doing the favela tour later in the day so we decided to try and book onto the trip and join them. It was our new friends who broke the news to us about how expensive Brazil was. The exchange rate is 2.58 reais to the pound, meaning our 90 reais taxi ride cost a bloody fortune. We were shellshocked and it took us a few moments to recouperate after understanding our loss.

The hostel owner, Alegra was already nagging at us to pay our outstanding balance as soon as we arrived (we had already paid around £300 of the £360 it was costing us for the 4 night New Years Eve package) and was asking us what time we were planning to leave four days later. Err, like we knew the answer to that yet. It's just because we only open reception between the hours of 12-2pm every day, and someone may not be able to check you out, she explained. Things just became progressively worse during our stay, the dog crapped EVERYWHERE including the stairs that lead up to our dorm room, and it also peed and sicked all over the place. There was no outside space for it to go to the loo, and we didn't see any cleaners. No cleaners in a hostel? She employs a few backpackers (whose duties in other hostels generally extend to the bar and reception) but here in Casa Carioka we noticed they were expected to clean and do everything including cleaning up the dog's mess. We really aren't exaggerating how bad this place was- one of the guests actually wrote a letter to the owner stating her disgust at the state of the hostel, and pinned it to the fridge, signing it from 'your disappointed guests'.

We headed down to the main street in town with the guidance of Martin and Sabryna to get some money. After trying three different banks we were able to withdraw from HSBC. We were beginning to think we were going ot be destitute for the whole of our stay. We returned for the first time up the huge hill to our hostel and were sweltering by the time we got to the top. It was still overcast but the humidity was almost unbearable. After paying Alegra, and managing to get a place on the favela tour for later that day at 65 reais each, we headed back down into town to check out the infamous Copacabana beach then to the supermarket. The beach was still nowhere near anything an beautiful as those on the Caribbean coast of Mexico, still the best beaches so far on our trip. Too bad we went there first and burnt out the rest of our options.

Copacabana had a lot of litter and a bit of a ghetto atmosphere going on. The sea was brown more than blue, and was cold. As we were in a rush we retreated back to the hostel via the supermarket. It was here where we were again astounded by the prices in Rio. We quickly realised we couldn't afford to eat as a can of beans worked out at around £4.50, fresh products were ridiculous like £3 for half a galia melon, and even bread was way overpriced at nearly £3 for a decent loaf. A 3 litre bottle of apple juice was 29 reais- about £12. We bought noodles and pasta for the rest of our stay at Casa Carioka- unfortunately the kitchen looked like a scene out of the Saw series.

We walked back up the hill again with our shopping, and were told to go wait back down at the bottom of the hill for the minibus to pick us up for the favela tour. We found it quite a strange phenomena that tourists are allowed to go into the favelas to gawp at the squalor and poor conditions, and in some ways we didn't agree with it, but it did look pretty interesting. We were later told by our guide that it is really good for the favelas that tourists do go inside, as we act as a shield to the people. Apparently the police will not raid the favelas during the day when tourists are there, as if we got injured in a shoot out Scotland Yard would be over there in a flash. This means that the people in the favela do not have to worry about gun fights- when they see the gringos apparently they think everything must be fine as the gringos wouldn't be there if it wasn't safe. Bizarre theory.

Anyway, as we were heading to the favela our guide informed us that there had been a police raid at 7 that morning, and there had been a shoot out. We didn't know whether this was true, Katie thought it was an exaggeration to make the tour more interesting. However, earlier that morning when we were sitting in our dorm at Casa Carioka we had heard bangs that Luke thought were gunshots but Katie had argued they were just fireworks.

We arrived at the favela and were given a briefing not to use our cameras unless specifically told we were allowed, as drug dealers do not want to be photographed, especially if they are carrying weapons. We were told that we would be taking local transport to the top of the favela- this transport was motorbike. Nothing had been arranged like in a usual tour. We just congregated together like a bunch of scaredy travellers, overwhelmed by the crazy atmosphere- scary looking people people everywhere, shops pouring out onto the streets with huge bass systems. Our guide didn't look too sure of himself, despite the fact that he had told us he was liked in the favela. He attempted to hail down men riding motorbikes to take each of us to the top of the favela. No one wanted to go first, then one English guy put himself forward and sped off. It was a few minutes before we got another motorbike for the next taxi, and was like this for everyone. So nobody had any idea if they were going to the right place as we couldn't see the other tourists.

We were lucky that our drivers had helmets for us as the ride was a bit erratic, overtaking traffic on both sides of the road. Katie's driver was really going for it and drove pretty fast. She caught up with Martin's bike, and they were riding next to each other for a while until a police riot van pulled out in front of their path, loaded with about 15 police on the back pointing guns at them. The police spoke in Portuguese and Katie looked at Martin and asked if this was the end. Fortunately the police were just demanding that Martin's driver give him a helmet. The police drove on futher into the favela and let the tour continue.
We all made it to the meeting point at the top of the favela. Our guide informed us that there was no worry that anything would have happened to us, as if anyone kidnapped a gringo, it would attract police into the favela, which would then anger the drug dealers who run the favela- they would then kill the culprit. This made us feel safe in a roundabout way.

The trip wasn't as eye opening as we had expected. Yes it was dirty and there was rubbish everywhere, but we didn't see any guns or drug dealing going on. What we saw were poor people living in squalor, and it was really quite sad. There were electricity cables literally everywhere, knotted up with so many lines coming off them. We were told that as part of a government initiative the whole of the favela was provided with free internet- they also had free access to an amazing sports complex with olympic size swimming pool just across the road from the favela.

The highlight of the trip was that we were taken into an art gallery where two local artists dispayed and sold their work. The theme of the art was life in the favela, and the paintings were really moving. Some were really emotive and explicit, and it was saddening to see what these people are exposed to at such a young age. We would have liked to have bought one but we had no way of carrying it around the world with is, plus they were pretty expensive. However, a lot of people on our tour did make purchases.

The lowlight of the tour was when we were taken up to a roof terrace where some kids were playing table tennis on a table with legs made out of old suitcases. The state of the place was horrific with poo and maggots all over the floor- we even had to avoid being touched by broken wires as we were climbing up the stairs which may or may not have still been live.

After the tour we were dropped at the bottom of the hill again so had to walk back up. We were exhausted as we had not been to bed still from the night before. We settled down for a nap in the most disgusting bedroom ever, and were woken later by Martin to go for some drinks. A gang of about 10 of us headed down to Copacabana where people were already on the beach celebrating for the New Year dressed in white. We went for a few drinks and headed back to the hostel via an amazing smoothie bar.

The following day we had planned to spend on the beach but it was raining. So instead we went on a big shopping trip with loads of the guys from the hostel, we first went to a huge mall for lunch, then to a market in centro. The mall was really cool although so expensive. A medium BIg Mac meal in Mcdonalds worked out at over £10. We were able to see the Sugarloaf mountain from a viewing point, but it was dull and wet and unimpressive. The market was pretty cool, and Luke managed to get himself a t-shirt for the Reveillon. He was even able to choose the picture that he wanted printed on it. We left the market and headed back to the hostel where we just chilled out. Katie had been trying to get a smoothie all day, after having an amazing one the night before. We eventually found a bar selling them, and she ordered an overpriced mixed fruits flavour and when it came it turned out the main ingredient was beetroot. Our Portuguese was so poor that we were unable to complain.

The next day was New Year's Eve so the two of us and Sabryna headed down to the beach early at 9am to save a spot by the main stage. The beach was surprisingly quite empty, but music was already blasting out of speakers, and men were setting up the stage. It was really fortunate that this seemed to be the only half decent day weather-wise, and we managed to get a good few hours in sunbathing- it was so hot though. One really good thing they had on Copacabana were freshwater showers every 30 metres or so along the main stretch of beach. The Brazilians seem to be obsessed with showering, and it was a one in one out situation operating, with people hopping from one foot to the other willing the water not to run out (as they were on timers). And it really is true- the men do wear tiny pants, and whatever they are carrying with them to the beach that day (sandals/ sun cream/ magazines/ bottled water) they just tuck this into their pants so they can flex and pose as muchj as possible. Even the over 70s. People were all shapes and sizes- not the beach of perfection as we had been lead to believe before coming to Brazil.

In the late afternoon it began to rain which was a little disappointing, but we used the time to wait in a toilet queue for about two full hours to get showered and changed. Everyone was changing into white clothes ready for the Reveillon celebrations. We returned to the beach and started on our first real drinks of the day, at around 6.30pm which was good going considering the circumstances. We spent the next few hours taking it in turns to go right up to the front of the main stage, while others guarded camp. Katie and Sabryna managed to get on the live cam they were casting over the audience. The other guys from the hostel came down and joined us and we spent the rest of the evening learning samba (not very well) from the locals.

The fireworks at New Year were really amazing, and seemed to go on forever. However, unfortunately we were unable to take any photos as we had the camera stolen from us on the beach just before midnight. This combined with Katie losing her RayBans earlier that day meant that it was a little bit of a disappointing end to the year. The overcrowding was immense- there were literally hundreds of police lining the edges of the beach preventing people from pushing onto it- we guess that this was to stop the people on the beach being forced into the sea. It was actually really daunting and scary trying to get through the crowds of people to get back to our camp, and the people we had to get past were those who mostly came from the favelas, and were huge and muscly thug like men who put their hands in your pockets as you tried to squeeze past. It was good to experience the celebrations of a different culture, however it was posssibly not worth what we sacrificed to be there.

The following day we walked down to Copacabana beach to find the tourist police as obviously our host Alegra wasn't around to offer any guidance. This also meant that as we walked down the stairs from our dorm to the communal area that there was dog crap everywhere- on at least four steps, then at the bottom, and there was dog sick out on the terrace. It was so disgusting and all of the other backpackers were appalled. No one wanted to clean it up, so it was there most of the day. Anyway, we found some tourist police, and with the aid of our Portuguese phrasebook we managed to explain that our camera had been stolen on the beach. They kindely offered us a ride to the tourist police station where we spent most of the afternoon, and surprisingly where no one seemed to speak English apart from a crazy American who wouldn't go away and was telling us that he was kidnapped by a Brazilian couple, and now the woman was saying she was having his child. Or something like that. We returned to the hostel and spent the evening chatting and eating noodles.

The following day we had initially planned to move to another part of the city and experience some of the street nightlife, see Christ the Redeemer, and some other touristy things. However, so far Rio had left us with a bad taste in our mouths, and we were not too anxious to stay. Luke ran down to the station to buy onwards tickets for the following day to Paraty, while Katie stayed at the hostel and tried to contact the insurance, to no avail. Our host had not even offered us the opportunity to extend our stay (not that we'd ever dream of it) so we ordered a taxi. When it came it started the meter straight away, but being at the top of the hill we were stuck behind another taxi trying to get 5 travellers and their backpacks in. Noot an easy task when the car is a normal sized family car. The reais were piling up and the driver had yet to switch on the ignition. We signalled to the driver that we would not pay the price until the car actually started moving. With no explanation he jumped out, opened the boot and threw our bags on the side of the road. Like that is it? So we strapped on our packs and sauntered down the hill, making it down there before he was able to even start his engine. We found another cab and instructed it to head to Lebon where we had found some other hostels online. When we arrived we were told by the receptionist of the first hostel that they were still in package prices, and it would cost an arm and a leg for one night there. She sent us to another hostel called Zebra where we were quoted around £80 each for the one night in their cheapest dorm. We nearly passed out. We were fed up of this rubbish- New Year was over and they were still trying to fleece us. In one last extremely (what were we thinking?) desperate attempt, we decided to call Casa Carioka to see if we could have our beds back for one more night. The owner said no and was completely unhelpful when we asked her to recommend another hostel she said she didn't know any other hostels in Rio. What a load of rubbish- she wouldn't even give us the time of day despite how much money we had poured into her dump of a hostel. We paid for another overpriced taxi (£15 a time) back to the travel agency to try and move our bus tickets forward a day. Obviously when we arrived it was closed- it had only gone 2pm. What a nightmare. The day was just getting worse, so we decided to cut our losses and catch the metro to the Rodavario (the bus terminal which is located conveniently an hour outside of town). Fortunately we met a kind Brazilian couple who got off the metro with us at our stop even though they had suitcases, and they directed us to the right bus stop to take the bus to the terminal. It was a good job really as the area was a little scary, not unlike how the Bronx appears in movies. There were loads of kids and thugs hanging out in the park on motorbikes making fires, playing with homemade kites, and no doubt planning their next tourist attack.

Fortunately the bus was already at the stop meaning we didn't have to hang out at the bus stop taunting them. When we made it to the Rodavario, our luck was changing as another Brazilian man eagerly helped us to find our bus company in the huge bus station, where we were (thankfully) able to change our tickets. We were given a place on the 6pm bus to Paraty and were happy in the knowledge that Rio would soon be a distant memory. Although it was with sunken hearts that we realised we would not get to see Christ close up. Still, we had seen our third wonder of the world. Shame the place wasn't that wonderful.

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