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Published: December 1st 2010
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The Marvelous City, "La Cidade Maravilhosa" (as it's known)
Rio de Janeiro is one of the most beautifully sited cities in the world. Its edges are scalloped by beaches of soft sand and warm seas, and it's backed and woven through by Sugar Loaf (with whom I fell in love) and her sisters, towering black, granite monolithic domes, spiritual presences, that embrace and protect the city. A lagoon surrounded by a walking/cycling trail sits in the center of the city, and there are lots of parks including one covered by rainforested mountain trails and waterfalls.
From Paraty to Rio, the bus hugged the Costa Verde (Green Coast) that stretches from San Paulo to Rio with endless beaches backed by the Atlantic rainforest and charming towns and dotted with jungle-covered islands offshore.
I stayed over two weeks in Rio and rarely felt overwhelmed by the press of its 6 million people, partly because I made sure I had bits of nature everyday. Also, like other travelers, I stayed in a relatively small part of the city, the central and southern parts. Except for using the bus station and once getting lost, I didn't venture into the grittier, northern hills of
poverty and working classes. While I met others who got robbed in Rio, I had no worse frustration than trying to figure out which bus stopped at which unmarked spot.
To develop a love of the city, I brilliantly spent the first four days and many after that in nature, and only later went for the cultural and historic sites. Knowing that the major highway that hugs the coast would be half-closed on Sunday, I bee lined it to Rio's famous beaches, Ipanima and Copacabana my first day in town.
The brisk weather and cloudy skies led few to join me at the water's edge. Strollers, joggers, cyclists and parades of political boosters hyping their candidates stuck to the street or the wavy black and white mosaic sidewalks designed by Roberto Burle-Marx, Brazil's most famous landscape architect. Others hung out at the snack shacks drinking beer or bland coconut water or eating greasy-smelling fried fish.
While Ipanima is now the more upscale beach, Copacabana had once been the glamorous, international destination. From the 1930s through the '50s (think Carmen Miranda), the rich and famous flocked to the still-beautiful, 1923 Copacabana Palace. Now, the area is seedier. A
couple from the hostel were robbed at knife-point at sunset, and a woman sitting next to me on a bench turned out to be a prostitute who went off with a guy. Still the beach was gorgeous, and there were great views from its old fort.
I returned to Copa on my last Sunday, 10/10/10, for an event for the climate control group, 320. Supposedly, cariocas (after the eponymous river, are Rio residents) were going to link hands all along the miles of beaches. While I never found them, I had a pleasant stroll and then took the subway to my favorite, quieter and more picturesque beach, Flamengo.
Flamengo Beach had wonderful views of Sugar Loaf Mountain and sailboats across its bay, and unlike Rio's main beaches, was sheltered from traffic noise by the huge Flamengo Park. Designed by Burle-Marx, the park was filled with exotic plants, flowering trees and winding paths and went to the beach's edge. While the beach was polluted and unsuitable for swimming, it was perfect for strolling on these gray days.
A highlight of my time in Rio was the pilgrimage I made to the 100-acre estate of Roberto Burle-Marx (1909-94), whose
work I'd come to love. I made an appointment in my pigeon Portuguese, and then caught a city bus for the hour and a half journey along Rio's gorgeous coast, then past Sao Conrado's ritzy high-rise condominiums, and finally into a tropical forest.
Burle-Marx had visited Europe as a young man, and after seeing Van Gogh's paintings and the Berlin Botanic Gardens, returned to Brazil determined to "paint with Brazilian plants." He began collecting tropical plants and had about 3,500 of them at his estate where he experimented with fantastic combinations of color, texture and shapes. His home also showed off his collection of folk art, as well as bow sprits and stone walls rescued from boats and crumbling estates and reused creatively. His imagination had been boundless.
One of my favorite days was spent hiking in the huge Tijuca Forest, the world's largest urban forest. First, I took the metro to the end of the line, then caught a bus that lurched up a steep hill and finally walked through the impressive arches of a former coffee estate, the nucleus of the forest.
Soon a trail through the forest led past tall waterfalls, the coffee baron's
Beach Hut
Coconut Water and Fish personal pink chapel and then to a narrow, rocky and wet-leaf slippery trail to several peaks. I was the only one on the trail, and it felt great to have only the sounds of birds and insects and to see only wildlife and canopied layers of green while in the midst of the city. Yet the canopy wasn't as high as in other tropical rainforests I'd known--I learned why in the visitor center.
When the Portuguese arrived in the 16c, they began cutting down the Mata Atlantic, the Atlantic rainforest, for building material and firewood and for making coal for sugar processing. In the 19c, a coffee boom led to the clearing of forests all over southern Brazil. When the bottom fell out of the coffee market, Brazil went into a decline.
In Rio in 1860, Emperor Pedro II had huge ex-coffee plantations reforested with native species, one of the first such attempts at heteroculture in the South America. However, since these plants have only been growing for a century and a half, they have only established three layers of canopy, not the usual four--I'll have to return in another 100 years.
Another great nature day was
a visit to the fabulous botanic garden which backs up to the Tijuca forest. Entering between stately rows of towering royal palms, I knew I was in a different world. An orchidarium, huge collections of bromeliads, palms, medicinal and carnivorous plants, a wild Amazon section, and sweet Japanese garden all had labels and explanations, often in English (though not in Spanish) as well as in Portuguese.
The garden was established in 1808 by Prince Regent Joao to grow Asian spices beloved by the Portuguese royal court who had arrived in Brazil, fleeing Napoleon's armies. Amazing that a pantry garden could morph into such a magical world!
Another fine Sunday, I joined a carioca friend I'd met in Santa Barbara, for a walk around the 7 km of the saltwater lagoon, Lagoa Rodrigo de Freitas, that sits in the center of the city, and drains and connects to various beaches. While there were tall apartment buildings and traffic around the lake, their impact was lessened by the spiritual presence of giant, granite monoliths towering over everything. We ended the day watching birds and enjoying Middle Eastern food at one of the great outdoor restaurants that dot the lake.
After two weeks of gray skies, the sun came out--OMG! I ran out of the hostel and jogged to iconic Sugar Loaf Mountain to beat the clouds that were approaching. I'd refused to ascend the expensive look-out points, this and Corcovado Mountain with the Cristo statue, unless it was sunny and promised good views. Here was my chance!
As an off-season traveler, I breezed onto the Italian bubble cars with no waiting in line. We went to the top of Sugar Loaf's 1,300 meters/4,290 feet of granite in two stages and had great views over my neighborhood of Botofogo, its bay and yacht harbor and beyond to the downtown. Rio's bays and islands spread before us, and I was more in love with the city than ever before. I was now ready to visit its urban sites.
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