When my baby, when my baby smiles at me I go to Rio...de janeiro....my oh me oh...


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South America » Brazil » Rio de Janeiro
March 9th 2011
Published: March 9th 2011
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Frantically frivolous and featuring fantasies of food…followed by sleep and relaxation (if time permits)

Rio. De Janeiro. When my baby smiles at me I go to Rio is what springs to mind, god bless that tune, and who knows where it came from but one knows that when your baby smiles at you, there is a reason you go to Rio.

For a start, Christ is there to greet you. This is as Catholic as the rest of this continent seems to be. High on a hill top, scratching the heavens with his open arms and welcoming all and sundry to this fantastically frivolous city.

That is if he is not obscured by mist that plagues this monument for most of the year. The steep railway that carries you there was built about 100 years ago, and the monument inaugurated about 80 years ago. As monuments go, it is incredibly huge, and attracts a lot of tourists, us 2 ‘gringos as one insulting local Brazilian called us (unprovoked, honestly, we are harmless flightless birds anyway!). A full 3 hours was taken for the getting to, enjoying and getting down from this, and dueled with an afternoon trip to the Sugarloaf that same day. It would not be an ‘attraction’ without steep prices, as steep as the hillsides of the loaf or Cristo, and queues. I almost felt like I was queuing at an automatic cash machine in El Calafate or Ushuaia again, it took that long to reach the entrance to buy a ticket.

Backtracking, the day before was spent getting crushed in the centre of town. Not deliberately. After a gustatory experience at an all you can eat sushi restaurant and feeling very sorry for our happy but full bellies afterwards, the day after began leisurely and involved taking in the sights of the Rodoviaria (organising tickets for next week) in persistent light rain, navigating in Portugese with a fading voice (me), picnic lunch in the neighbourhood of Gloria and a smidgen of Carnaval costume buying and the walking tour outlines by most guide books. Seemed our plans were stifled by the surging crowds of drunken revelers and after many close encounters we squeezed out way back out into the breathing space of Copacabana. Something to be said for personal space, but it is Carnaval and that means crowds, right?

So Carnaval. The exhausting day of sightseeing Sugarloaf and Cristo ended in the world biggest party by the worlds experts in extravagant dressing techniques, exhuberent behaviour, and of course, Samba. The sight of so many people screaming, chanting there favourite Samba chants as each school, such as San Clementes and Unidas de Tijuca, was one to remember, and never have I seen such well behaved crowds with so many people and available alcohol – quite different to a western event, but then maybe we were in the supposed ‘VIP’ (should be non-VIP) seats. And an official mucked up our entry process we ended up wasting 0 minutes queuing for no reason. That old important chestnut of communication eh. Fatigue setting in about 4.30am (well before for me, dragged out of that stupor transiently by 200 decibel drumming and singing and lighting), we stumbled home by the subway and past the usual city homeless people of Copacabana’s main avenue.

And rose to a brilliantly sunny morning, a little late at 8.30am while I left my travel companion sleeping for a dip in the cool and at times dangerous Atlantic ocean of Copacabana. Erosion has taken a lot of the sand away in the last month, and so leaving a steep beach with dumping waves. That did not stop the romping of Speedo clad overweight men, string bicini'd women of all types, or crazy foreigners trying their luck to actually enter the water without toppling over. Then there was the endless salespersons selling any number of junk items, red umbrellas, endless freshwater showers emerging from the middle of the sand, fried food and the local drink, 'Antarctica' well needed on those 27C days. Hot hot hot? More like temperate temperate temperate.

Cheap eats on the rooftop ended our stay in Copacabana alongside a brilliant Argentinean red wine, and we checked out for the hilly sights of Teresopolis, 90 minutes away, the next morning. The connections from Copa town to the terminal were better than expected, and taking bus 126/127 or 128 the best idea and a bargain at 2.40 Reals given the past 3 days of extravagent spending. The bus station, rodaviaria Norte Rio, was modern and boarding for a 9am bus a breeze. Having booked tickets, we sat comfortably at the front, arrived at the central station, and after some quick fire supermarket shopping, scoped out the accommodation in our distant-from-town pousada, 'Comary'.

Welcomed by rain and very average customer service, this did not dampen our plans to hike, and although the national park fee hurt a bit it was worth the 22 reals for the tranquility and rockpools at the end of the basic trails (all 'mountain' routes were off, and were due another 30 Reals for the chance to go there!!). The Serra dos Orgaos park is a collection of tropical and temperate forest, one part being an elevated ('suspensa') walkway through a canopy of rainforest vegetation. Returning like drowned rats about 5pm, the battle to communicate with our owner who was not present earlier began, on several small things like taxi times and bus times.........me getting most of the practice, and after a good 30 minutes of to and fro, goal one was answered. Perhaps I was the novelty and being made a fool of!!

So weather permitting, more highlands then down to the coast for some sun north of Rio.


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