Bloody Prisoners, Great Soccer, Ah Brazil!

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I was 20 years old. I was in university. For spring break, I was itching to take a trip. Many of my friends were off to Florida. Being from there, that was of course the last place I wanted to go. There used to be something called a courier flight, a way to fly completely free around the globe. Companies with extremely time sensitive cargo would buy an airline seat for their things, using the allowable luggage space to get them there quickly. The courier companies, as long as a person only took carry-on luggage and agreed to deliver a receipt to someone waiting on the other side of the flight, allowed the passenger to fly for free. The other stipulation would be that you would have to dress nicely and pick up documents preflight. I thought this whole thing sounded like a scam but I checked it out. They told me they had a flight available to Brazil exactly the time I wanted to travel, leaving from JFK airport three days later. I caught a ride to NYC, got to the airport, met the courier representative and was airborne!
There used to be a prescription drug called Halcyon that was used as a sleep aid. By the way, later it was implicated in murders and other bizarre behavior among some users. My mother somehow got me some and suggested that I might want to use it. This was my first real trip out of the country by myself. I read my guide book excitedly and made some general plans. I had made a vow to myself that I would go with the flow, something I still do today.The flight was going to be a long one, 10 hours nonstop to New York. I was supposed to take one half of one pill. I'm not sure why, I took two pills and mixed it with a couple beers.

The plane was one of those double-decker planes. Two hours or so after we took off, I told the flight attendants I was woozy and not feeling so well. It turned out there was no one in the upstairs luxury lounge and they told me to go up. I remember lying down and then nothing else after that.When I regained my senses I was walking around the streets of Rio de Janeiro, which just happens to be one of the most dangerous cities in the world. I was very fortunate that it was broad daylight and that I was in a business district. When I put the pieces back together, I realized that I had been completely knocked out by the drug and operated on auto-pilot when I got to the airport in Rio. Although I had absolutely no memory of this, I had somehow met the courier representative, collected my carry-on luggage and taken a bus to the downtown area. By the time I regained my wits, I had been walking around Rio disoriented for about two hours. I sat down, had some water and collected my thoughts. I was still having a difficult time focusing, things started to clear up about an hour later. I caught a bus over to famous Copacabana Beach, got as cheap room one block from the ocean and threw my bags down. I was excited, had a great story to tell and I was in Rio de Janeiro, my heart was thumping. After what I had been through, I had a pretty tame night, walked the beach and then to bed. I slept for ten hours, my dreams were vivid. I woke feeling refreshed and ready for adventure! My little place had a small view of the ocean; I felt the breeze coming in. I heard music coming from below, happy people and I smelled excellent food. I was about a block from a world famous disco called Help Discotheque, the kind of place where all kinds of characters hung out.

I walked out onto the beach and into a world that was new to me. There were kiosks for buying beer all over the beach. Guys were playing beach volleyball; businessmen were having meetings at restaurants next to the water. The girls were wearing the smallest bikinis I had ever seen. This place was absolutely buzzing with activity, a city of nearly 20 million people. I loved it. That day walking the beach I saw two Caucasian guys lying on the sand. I liked them instantly I struck up conversation, their names were Mike and Larry and they lived in Vancouver BC, Canada. They worked for Canadian airlines as baggage checkers and had gotten a free ticket down here. We quickly became friends, also decided that because of the danger factor maybe it was better that we stick together. We were in awe of the beautiful people here, absolutely gorgeous. I had never really heard Portuguese spoken, the way the Brazilians speak it was so beautiful.

The Canadians and I went out that night together until the wee hours. We made plans to meet the next day and hang out together for the rest of the week. I had myself a little posse and it felt good. This was my first real experience with the often unexpected magic of travel friendships. I am still good friends with Mike to this day. The next day on the beach, we met a cool young Brazilian lawyer named Icaro. We were the only gringos on the beach and he was interested in talking with us. We played volleyball, drank beer and talked to him for hours. He invited us to a local’s party later that night in the Ipanema Beach neighborhood, a world famous area the next beach south of Copacabana.

It sounded great and we said yes. Icaro left and we spent the rest of the day in the sun. This is certainly one of the most striking locations in the world. Rio certainly has some of the best beaches in the world. It is ringed with stunning mountains and islands offshore. There is opulence and severe poverty, often rather close together. This town is a major center for international business but also has some of the very worst and dangerous slum neighborhoods on the planet.

The party we were invited to was starting at 10, we decided to find a churrascaria restaurant, a famous Brazilian barbeque style of cooking I had read about. We walked a few blocks and quickly got lost, we were fortunate to find a local police station to ask for directions. We ducked in, I was doing most of the communicating for us because I spoke Spanish fairly well and the Brazilians could understand it. The Canadians spoke no Spanish.

The police chief greeted us with a big smile and welcomed us into his office. I don’t think he had travelers wander into this neighborhood often. He spoke some English and was proud to use it. We had just started our conversation with him and a young man was brought in by another officer in handcuffs. Our smartly dressed police chief politely excused himself from our conversation, walked just outside his office door and kicked to young prisoner’s ass, punching and kicking him until he was bloody. He calmly walked back into his office, rejoined the conversation with us as if nothing had happened. We were in shock, we asked what happened. He explained to us that the young man had shoplifted from a store nearby and needed to be taught a lesson. I later found out that the shopkeepers often contract with off duty policemen to kill criminals and shoplifters, the police chief truly believed that a hard line was the only deterrent. We were in no position to judge, he gave us a smile and directions to the restaurant.

We walked in the door and it smelled beyond delicious. We sat down and tried a capirinha, the national drink that tastes similar to a mojito without the mint. The waiters explained to us that the meal was one price and we would eat until we were full. The meat was cooked in open ovens and was brought to our table on big skewers, time and time again. We ate until we couldn’t eat anymore and stumbled out into the humid air, walking off our meal along Copacabana Beach.

Ipanema is about 1 mile from where our rooms were. We got to the party a bit late, Icaro was there to meet us and introduce us to all of his friends. There seemed to be a number of young professional here, the place was nice and only a block or so to the beach. The Brazilians all spoke some English. Between that and my Spanish, we communicated just fine. Everyone was very friendly, welcoming and curious how we had made it to the party. Good people, good conversation.


We also found out that the Rio was going to be a huge party the next week because the Formula One motorcar race was being held in town. This, of course, is a major sporting event attended by people from all over the world. Over the next week, we ran into a number of famous drivers and were invited to some unbelievable parties, pubs and restaurants. It was a whirlwind and very fun. I had decided that I wasn’t here just for the beaches and parties. We hiked to the top of the mountain overlooking Rio and saw the amazing statue of Christ, Corcovado. We went to botanical gardens; the foliage was verdant and lush. We went to a little meeting hall 10 miles outside of town where a revolution had been planned many years before. We visited with many people, I fulfilled a promise I made to my grandmother to journal when I traveled abroad.

There was so much to write about. By the end of the 10 days, we had great tans, many memories and loads of new friends. As a final treat to ourselves, we went to see a professional soccer match in the massive Maracana stadium, designed to seat 150,000 people. It was amazing quality of soccer, quite a spectacle. We learned about intense soccer rivalries and how they are used by the government to manipulate and distract poor people from their circumstances. It sounds familiar. We had a final meal at a mountaintop bar/restaurant and said goodbye to our friends and each other. What a trip it had been, we made plans to meet again. We left the next day on separate planes; I stayed away from the Halcyon. I flew back to NYC, took a bus back to Vermont. Wow, what a trip it had been. I was hooked forever on international travel. I felt empowered, I had conceived and idea myself and with good planning and instincts had made it happen.

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