The stairway to heaven is a cog train

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Tuesday.

Woke again to roosters, and later to three military helicopters buzzing over our heads. Strange. I spent some time reading out on our balcony, listening to the neighbourhood slowly awaken.

Another lovely breakfast in the garden, overlooking the little pool on the side of the hill. We tramped up the hill to Largo dos Guimaraes, where we caught the wonderful old tram (called the bodinho) almost immediately and hung on as we hurtled all the way down the hill, clackety-clunk, past magnificent old villas decaying in that tropical way, with vines and flowers covering the old stone walls bordering the cobblestone lane. Remarking on the jerkiness of the ride, Jeff wondered what made riding the tram so special, and we soon found out. As the tracks near the bottom of the hill and enter the downtown area, they cross a high, narrow viaduct built in a double series of arches, like something out of old Rome. It’s a glorious if somewhat harrowing view out the open sides of the tram, and I wouldn’t want to be one of the free riders standing on the running board for this part of the trip. Apparently, the viaduct did actually once carry water to downtown Rio, but now it’s mainly a startling piece of architecture descending to the city’s heart near the beehive-shaped Catedral Metropolitana and the Rubik’s cube like headquarters of oil giant Petrobras.

We took ourselves on a walking tour of Centro that began in the Praca Floriana, the cultural and political centre of the city. It’s a broad, open square, paved beautifully with those same mosaic sidewalks we see everywhere in Rio. We checked out the beautiful staircase and lobby of the National Library, peered in the lobby of the Museu Nacional de Belas Artes (and decided against going in) and bemoaned the fact that yet another wonderful theatre that we might have wanted to tour was closed for restoration (the Teatro Municipal, which sits at the head of the square, is apparently about to celebrate its centennial next year). Reflecting on how much of BA and this city is under renovation, we figure we came to South America a year too early.

Uncommitedly following the walking tour in our book, we came upon the Confeiteria Colombo, a coffee/dessert house, and were instantly hooked. A gorgeous art nouveau interior, with gigantic mirrors framed in dark woods, a stained-glass dome and glass cases containing the most exquisite pastries …… We just had to stop for tea and some beautiful verdinhos (?), a sort of puff-pastry éclair stuffed with pastry cream and fruit (mine turned out to be fig, Jeff’s was strawberry). The service was rushed - the place was mobbed as siesta time began - but the setting and tastes were fabulous.

Next stop was the Real Gabinete Portugues de Leitura, a historic library reading room that was quite astonishing - again, several storeys high, each level filled with rare books, with dark wood shelving and beautiful furnishings. We whispered our way around the room, signed the guestbook, and went out again to a different world. We saw a bit of Saara, a crowded bazaar area, without any real enthusiasm for shopping! By now the sun was finally starting to peek out, so we decided to get ourselves to “Big Jesus,” as Rebecca calls the 38-metre high statue of Christo Redentor atop the mountain called Corcovado (hunchback). We rode the Metro, then a bus right to the cog-train station. The hill is 710 metres up, and it takes 20 minutes to get up there at a crazy angle, passing by houses for a while until the jungle takes over. The hill is part of the Tijuca national park, a small remaining piece of the Atlantic rainforest, and along the way there are signs describing some of the unique trees and flowers that fill the mountainside. What’s most amazing to me are the peach-coloured impatiens that grow wild here, just like those I painstakingly plant and water in my own garden at home.

At the top, we found a series of escalators - stairways to heaven! - and a rather crowded platform instead of the open plazas that made Sugarloaf such a pleasure to visit. And EVERYBODY took the same pose for photos in front of Big Jesus, arms open. It was not a very spiritual place, I must say, but Jesus, who is rather simply sculpted when you see him up close, wears a tolerant expression. The statue was prompted by a competition for a religious monument to commemorate Brazil’s 100th year of independence, back in 1921. It was a bit of a feat building it, with all the materials carted up to the top by the cog train, which itself has been running in some form for more than a century. But apparently nobody was hurt in the process. It was named one of the world’s seven new wonders in 2007. (Foz do Iguacu was campaigning in a similar competition for natural wonders when we visited!) The view, on a clear day, must be brilliant. It’s much higher than Sugarloaf, and offers a great view of Rio’s big southern lagoon and Copacabana and Ipanema beaches, as well as the sweeping views of the harbour, downtown and parts of the city beyond that we enjoyed from Sugarloaf. Unfortunately, it was not nearly as clear a day, so there was considerable haze across the city. We had enough time to take some pictures, but about 15 minutes after we got there, we got socked in by a low cloud that obliterated the view entirely! We headed back down, a samba rhythm section accompanying us in the next car (what were they there for? I guess in case any of the turistas forgot what city they were in …)

We decided that, with the weather forecast suggesting rain tomorrow, if we were to claim any sort of bragging rights we really should head for one of the two famous beaches, even though it was hardly sunshine we were experiencing. As it turned out, a passing bus was headed for Copacabana, so off we went. A short time later we were walking on beautiful powdery sand, a broad, long beach about 4.5 km long and populated today mostly by tour groups, with low clouds glowering and a stiff breeze blowing around us. So we hummed a little Manilow (at the Copa … Copacabana … the bestest beach in all the landa …) and walked a while and then headed up to the subway again as it began to spit rain. By the time we landed at Cinelandia station downtown it was pouring tropical buckets, not exactly the best conditions for a ride in a rocking open tram, so we grabbed a cab and headed up the hill to "our" neighbourhood.

Tonight, we picked the Bar do Mineira, a white-tiled place decorated with big cast iron pots, little wooden models of the tram and other cheerful bricabrac, with the look and feel of a local hangout - a little different from the restaurants we’d been going to. Jeff went for the feijoada, a pork stew that’s supposedly the Brazilian national dish, served with rice, beans, some sort of greens and cracklings topped by more of that fried-manioc-flour condiment. Great comfort food for a rainy night! I had the carne seco, a dish made with dried meat, something like corned beef, with onions and other flavourings, served with mashed sweet potatoes, more greens and rice. And then figs and fresh cheese for dessert. Tasty stuff. We strolled down the street to the place selling Brazilian handicrafts (and got a little tempted), and finally checked out the cheery place at the top of the hill that turns out to be a bookstore and coffee bar, with tables on the patio offering a great view of the neighbourhood. We browsed the Portuguese books for a while, reluctant to go home now that the rain had stopped, and wishing we had a little more time in Rio before heading home for real tomorrow.

As I write, our hosts are holding a little samba dance lesson in the living room. It looks like a lot of fun, but I think they’re too far ahead to take on rank (and left-footed) beginners like us! Hard to believe that in less than 24 hours, we’re gone. Sigh.

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