SA Cruise: Day 2

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After some 10 hours in the air, we land in Sao Paulo, Brazil. We wait for what seems an eternity, but our bags still haven't appeared on the baggage carousel. Oh, there they are on a different carousel. Joy!

Now we have a new challenge. The UA agent had booked a flight for us from Sao Paulo to Rio on a local carrier. The code for the airline is JJ, but we don't know what it stands for or where to go. And, of course, all the signage is in Portuguese.

After clearing customs, we eventually find a line for "correspondicao" and wait in it, but progress is glacial and we are worried that time will run out. Claudette finds someone who speaks English and is told that we are in fact in the wrong line. Luckily, the correct line is shorter and faster. The Portuguese airline is called Tam (the connection to "JJ" quite tenuous). Our bags are checked, and now it is another mad dash through security and then to the correct gate. We make it just in time and we're on the way to Rio, a short 40-minute flight.

Holland America, the cruise-ship line, was supposed to meet us at the airport in Rio. Our hotel and transfer are already paid for. Of course, we are by now about 3 1/2 hours later than we are supposed to be and arriving on a different, domestic carrier. Holland America is nowhere to be found. Claudette and I split up and try to figure out where we can get information. Eventually we find a tourist information kiosk hidden back inside the international arrivals area. The English-speaking lady there helps us confirm the address of our hotel, the Royal Tulip, and phones the hotel to confirm our reservations there. She also gives us some guidelines about the approximate price for a taxi fare, and warns us that it is a long ride.

Armed with this information, we find a driver willing to take US dollars, because we have no local currency. (The Brazilian currency is the "real," worth about 50c.) The driver has no English whatsoever, so negotiations are conducted in sign language. We agree on $42.

Boy, the information lady was right about the length of the ride! It's at least an hour and a half. Part of the problem is that it's now 5 pm (Brazil is 3 hours ahead of Ottawa time) and it's rush hour. Traffic is very bad in Rio. Drivers are quite aggressive and don't bother with signals. Motorbikes of various sizes weave crazily around the larger vehicles. In spite of the hair-raising ride, we all nod off during the trip because we are very tired and because of the humid temperature (36°C that day).

From the perspective of a rush-hour taxi, it's hard to see much of the city, but some of the remarkable topology of Rio is apparent. The city is surrounded by a fence of dramatic mountains on the land side, mostly sheer cliffs that thrust vertically up with hardly any vegetation. The city spreads out on the ocean side, using any surface that is not sheer cliff. Here and there houses straggle up the mountains, seemingly hanging on by force of will. In contrast to Vancouver, however, the houses clinging to the mountainsides are generally hovels and shacks, and the homes of the rich lie in the lowlands near the ocean and its endless beaches. In addition, at odd intervals, massive rounded buttes, presumably the remnants of ancient volcanic plugs, stand out like punctuation marks, jutting from the mountains, near the ocean or right in the water. Each has a unique shape and some are very high. Somehow 7 million people live in this remarkable setting.

The driver has to stop to gas up along the way. It turns out he's running on natural gas. In fact, it turns out that most of the vehicles here's are hybrid natural gas/gasoline. After conversion, their gasoline is about $1.50 a litre.

Finally we arrive at the Royal Tulip hotel. It's right across the road from a gorgeous beach. Holland America has a table at the hotel and we check in with them and explain what happened to us. Hopefully the money we prepaid for our hotel transfer will be reimbursed. Violet and I check in with the hotel front desk and get our room keys, but when we open the door, the safety lock on the inside is engaged--and the TV is on! It turns out the room belongs to Fred Miller, who is already checked in. After that small issue is cleared up, we are assigned our correct room. It's nice, although we feel it is not really up the hotel's professed 5-star rating.

After showering (human again!), we meet our friends for dinner. It's now about 8 pm. Dinner is quite good; both Vi and I have rump roast. We collapse immediately afterwards in our rooms. Never has a bed felt so good.

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Photos

Rio de Janeiro
The view from our hotel room