Advertisement
Tall and tanned and young and lovely
I saw lots of girls from Ipanema at the beach For a myriad of reasons, Rio was among the most eagerly anticipated destinations on my itinerary. As the subject of classic hits from legendary crooners Sinatra (The Girl From Ipanema), Manilow (Copacabana) and Peter "the boy from Oz" Allen (I Go To Rio), pop culture has dealt the city a certain caché and mystique with which no other in South America can compete. Arriving in the Cidade Maravilhosa (the 'Marvellous City' as Cariocas have somewhat cockily dubbed it), I was acutely aware of not only its spectacularly vibrant, sensual and outlandish sides, but also its violent side. Thanks to common folklore and the stories of fellow travellers, I was expecting to have both my bags snatched and be stripped down to my underwear at gunpoint the moment I stepped off the bus, being left a whimpering mess in the gutter. Fortunately, my arrival didn't pan out that way, and I managed to avoid any such encounters during my stay. I actually found most Cariocas (inhabitants of Rio) to be very friendly and accommodating. Above all, I found them thoroughly enigmatic.
What initially impressed me when I first laid eyes on Copacabana beach was the incredible geography of the place. Jagged
Classic Rio
Ipanema Beach with Christ the Redeemer on top of Corcovado behind hills and mountains spring out of the ground all over the place, some right in the middle of otherwise densely populated areas. Off to the right was the distinctive Pao de Acucar (Sugarloaf), and watching over it all from atop Corcovado was Christ the Redeemer, who could be seen through the gaps of the forest of highrises, scarce though they were. It is surely the most majestic and iconic statue on the planet (OK, perhaps a tie with the Statue of Liberty), and the views I took in when I went up there a few days later were out of this world.
Distracting me while I was trying to soak all this in was the most eclectic array of people I have ever laid eyes on. People watching is hard to beat as a cheap and easy activity, and Rio is a people watcher's paradise, particularly Copacabana and Ipanema beaches. I saw the world's fattest man. I saw the world's skinniest woman. I saw blacks, whites, reds, yellows and every other shade in between. I saw some high intensity paddle ball and low intensity lifeguarding. I saw a mini beach volleyball stadium, I saw beach soccer with coconuts as
goalposts. I saw brawn next to scrawn, I saw fat next to flat, I saw hot and I saw not. I was surprised I didn't see more budgies flying around as pretty much the whole male population of Rio were clad in the necessary item of clothing to smuggle them across the Pacific.
The schemers and scammers who roam the beach added a further dash of colour and character to the place. During one hour of lying on the beach one is guaranteed to be approached at least 20 times by a shady, fast-talking character trying to sell some sort of useless, ugly handicraft, or decidedly un-appetising looking ham and cheese roll. On one occasion I was sleeping on the beach and a guy woke me up to try to sell me a big bag of sugar. I thought he couldn't be serious but he was. Another guy was so persistent that I bought a hideous necklace just to get rid of him. I think the Brazilian Crimes Act (if one indeed exists) should be amended to include the term 'statutory robbery'. This is what occurs when one removes money from another, as in a robbery, but with the
The favela party
The venue actually reminded me a bit of Barry's distinction that consent has been obtained from the victim (albeit under considerable duress) to perform the act and restitution (taking the form of a useless trinket) has been been provided on the spot.
On my second night in town I went to a 'favela party'. For those who haven't seen the movie 'City of God', favelas are the slums where the desperately poor of Rio reside in shacks with no electricity, plumbing etc and police officers are nowhere to be seen, either cos they've been paid off, or because they are too scared to enter. The favoured pastime of locals are gunfights on the streets... at least that was the impression I got from the movie. You would then understand that when Zema (the bloke who ran the bar at the hostel) began cajoling me into going to the party with him, my initial response was to ask whether it was safe. He assured me that this particular favela wasn't controlled by drug lords (as many in fact are), but instead by a militia consisting of former policemen. The knowledge that my life and wellbeing was not going to be in the hands of a bunch of ruthless, murderous
Seeing the sights of Rio
HJT with Sugarloaf behind drug dealers, but rather a ragtag, armed to the teeth bunch of disgruntled ex-cops allayed my concerns instantly. My Finnish buddy from the hostel Ronin (I called him 'the Flying Finn') came along as well which was a relief - there's safety in numbers after all.
When we arrived at the place I could tell instantly that there was no clear and present danger that I would wind up lying on the street in a pool of my own blood. Sure, the place was far worse than anything one would see in any Australian city, but as far as favelas go, I think this was the ritzier part of town. The music, fridges and everything else electric ran off mains power, not some battered old generator out back. The toilets even had marble (or at least faux marble) benches... and plumbing that worked. It was really just a nightclub in an ordinary part of town - a bit like Jooce with Brazilians instead of Aussie bogans I suppose. The irony of the situation was that the safer I felt the more disappointed I became. Removing your wallet from your pocket to buy a drink and successfully completing the transaction
A friendly Corcovado local
These monkeys reminded me a bit of Mr Teeny isn't nearly as exciting when you know there is no chance someone will knife you in the back and take your beer and your cash.
The upside of the situation was the many gorgeous and exotic Brazilian women who were there, and the novelty value that a Finn and an Aussie carried for them. Now I'm not the kind of person with a passionate persuasion for dancin' (or romancin'), but I gave into the rhythm and my feet followed the beating of my heart. Not all the attention directed our way was so warmly received however. On the way to the party, we had been warned by Zema to be wary of 'lady-boys'. Regardless of having heard this advice, I would have been instantly suspicious of the 6 foot 5 black girl with legs like Gary Ayres, arms like Chris Tarrant and hands like Stewy Lowe who came up and danced next to me. With Zema's warning ringing in my ears, I thought it prudent to exercise caution, so I slowly backed away at first, and then ran to the other side of the place when she (he?) looked away. This 'chick' had about 4 inches and 20 kilos
Bella vista
Botafogo Bay and Sugarloaf on me and looked like she could have crushed me like an ant if I spurned her overtures.
I wasn't short on nourishment in Rio mind you, as Ronin and I discovered 'Monchique' early on in the piece. Monchique was a Brazilian BBQ buffet a short roll from our hostel, which for R$16 (about AUS$9.50) provided probably the best value feed I have ever had. It was impossible not to leave the place absolutely stuffed, as every 2 minutes a waiter would come to the table with a different cut of meat, each as succulent as the last. Not wanting to be rude, I rarely declined their kind offer. On my first visit I made the schoolboy error of filling up on too much buffet fare, particularly rice. On subsequent visits, I'd put a tiny serve of salad on the side of my plate to fool myself into thinking I was having a healthy meal, and then proceed to eat enough meat to feed a pack of starving lions. It was fantastic.
A few days before I left, Yentl and Barbara (two of the Dutch girls I met in Montevideo and hung out with at Iguazu Falls) arrived.
I was redeemed
HJT before his saviour We had some great times and good laughs again, and I was rather disappointed when in the end I had to leave them behind and get on a plane for the first time since I flew into South America three months ago. I am looking forward to more fun and games when I catch up with them in Amsterdam later in the year.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.384s; Tpl: 0.013s; cc: 15; qc: 48; dbt: 0.321s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb