The Passion of the Carioca - Rio de Janiero, Brazil

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Rio de Janiero, Brazil

Rio de Janeiro is a city that welcomes you with open arms and asks you to become ones of its own. It is a city that seems to go well with music. From the classics like "Copacabana" and "When My Baby Smiles At Me" to the local samba beats, one can't help but walk around Rio singing or tapping your feet. The locals, known as Cariocas, move to a rhythmic beat and it is very infectious. It is hard to think of another city that would exude such movement and passion. And it only took me 24 hours to become an adopted Carioca.

We arrived in Rio late at night, jetlagged and weary from an epic thirty-six hour journey that involved stops in four countries. As we slumped into our cab, we were wondering if it was worth the effort. However from the moment we first saw Christ the Redeemer, the giant statue atop Corcavado mountain that overlooks this beautiful city, lit up with arms outstretched, as if personally welcoming us I knew that I would like Rio.

We awoke the next morning eager to see the city and embarked on a city tour. First stop � the top of Corcavado Mountain to see our newfound friend and get an aerial view of the city. I find there is no better way to get your bearings of a city than from the cities highest viewpoint. And unlike any of the world's great skyscrapers, Corcavado Mountain provides a natural viewpoint.

Unfortunately luck did not appear to be on our side as the morning was extremely foggy. The cable car slowly ascended through the thick pea soup and visibility was reduced to zero. I was very disappointed and with this disappointment jetlag came back to hit me with a force. After twenty minutes we reached the top and although the statue is 100 metres tall and 30 metres wide we couldn't see it. I sat at the base of the statue and sulked. Rio was letting me down. Where was the sun that so many of the Cariocas worshipped?

Miraculously, after half an hour the fog lifted. It was like a miracle, all of a sudden the sun was out, birds were chirping and I was happy. My jetlag and bad mood were instantly gone. I swear that even Christ had a little smile on his face. With no fog we got a spectacular view of the entire city. It was superb. The long sandy stretches of beaches, Pao de Acucar (Sugarloaf Mountain) the surrounding Tijuca forest downtown Rio de Janeiro and the Lagoon. Breathtaking is a word used far too often, but in the dictionary next to breathtaking it should have a picture take from Corcavado Mountain. I have been to many cities around the world and I would say without hesitation that from atop this mountain Rio de Janeiro is the most visually spectacular of them all. It was so good that I could have stayed for 1 hour and 43 minutes. And so I did. I was certainly a lot happier on the cable car ride back down the mountain.

The Cariocas are a diverse group of people. A veritable melting pot of culture and backgrounds. Locals are a mixture of white, black and brown � a combination that adds to the pulse of the city. Despite the outward impression the city gives off of love and fun, it is also dogged by crime. To combat this, there are groups of policemen watching over the main areas that tourists congregate and this certainly made me feel a lot safer. Of course whilst they are watching over the interests of tourists crime runs amok in the favelas, slums where crime lords rule the roost.

We passed by the favelas, cardboard shantytowns that seem to have grown out of the mountain. The favelas have their own rules and regulations and are like mini cities within a big city. Until fairly recently the favelas didn't even have electricity and only poor sewerage. The interesting thing about the favelas is that they are nestled in amongst more affluent suburbs so that the very rich and the very poor live in close proximity to each other and from all reports without any problems. Tours are offered into the shantytowns however; it seems both a dangerous and a voyeuristic activity to undertake.

Of course the centre of the action in Rio is the beach. With the sun now out in force it was where we headed after lunch. The two main beaches - Copacabana and Impenema have been immortalized in songs and it is here that sun worshipping locals flock to at every opportunity. The fashions at the beach seem to revolve around the motto, "less is more" and the famous Brazilian g-string is out in force. No matter how old or how young, how big or how small, males and females proudly compete to see who can have the worst wedgie. Comfort comes in second place to the competition for who can display the most cheek. As I walked the beach in my shorts, people stared as if I was wearing a neck to knee costume popular in the 1920s. It was best for all concerned if my glowing white buttocks were kept behind closed doors (or a thick layer of cotton at least).

Once on the beach there is never actually a need to leave. There is a constant procession of people coming by selling things. Everything is available; prawns, fruit, drinks, beer, ice cream, towels, bathers (g-strings of course) and more. These guys are like mini portable 7-11s. There is nothing better than sitting on the beach watching the passing parade and sipping on a cool freshly cut coconut drink.

There are two activities popular at these beaches. Sun baking or sport. Both are taken seriously and with the passion that all Cariocas have. It was the sporting activities that most interested me. (Actually it was looking at the local females sun baking that was really more appealing, but in the company of my wife I thought it more prudent to watch the sports). Volleyball nets are scattered along the beach and games are played in earnest at all of them. Whilst many played beach volleyball, a game made famous at these beaches before entering the world stage to an extent that it is now an Olympic event, the more skilled have progressed onto foot volley.

Foot volley is beach volleyball, however instead of using hands, players must use their feet. The exquisite skills the players possess are a marvel to watch. Children as young as five leap and dive about with the all the acrobatic skills of a Chinese gymnast team. As soon as the sun comes up until long after it has set, these children are out playing. It is a pity that for many children in the western world the closest they will come to this is playing the game on their Sony Playstations. Yet another example of the Carioca passion and dedication.

Those not playing games were cycling, rollerblading or working out. The beach is a big hive of activity. I guess if you are walking around in next to nothing you want to make sure your body is in supreme physical condition. I began to feel inspired and wanted to join in one of the beach soccer games. I hung around on the sidelines with an expectant look in my face, kind of like the unpopular kid at school (I was getting bad flashbacks) but unfortunately was never asked to play. A couple of times the ball did come over to me and in an attempt to show of my skills would skillfully kick it back - over the guy's head or into some small kids face so I had to reluctantly move on.

As it got dark our stomachs indicated it was time to have dinner and we headed to a traditional Brazilian Churrascia. We soon found out that Churrascia was Portuguese for "eat until you feel sick." These restaurants are a carnivores dream. Waiters continually walk around the floor carrying large spits with varieties of meats. You can beckon them over with a little card that is given to you upon arrival. One side says Stop, the other says Go. Flashing the Go sign to a waiter will see them hurry over with some kind of meat. This includes alligator, Amazon fish, wild boar, baby pig, adult pig, porky pig, beef, lamb, spare rib and filet mignon. There were various others that I couldn't identify. (More correctly I couldn't understand what the waiter was saying). Ordering any vegetables or salad was frowned upon, and with the testosterone level high on our table I wasn't willing to subject myself to scorn or shame.

Eventually we could eat no more and we waved the white flag in mock surrender. I had never consumed so much meat in my life and doubted that I ever will. I guess Cariocas also have a passion for meat.

The only way to recover from our over eating was to watch other people engage in physical activity, so we went to a samba show. Although the samba shows are aimed squarely at the tourist market they are certainly worth going to see. Sporting costumes so lavish that Elton John would be jealous, the dancers sambaed and danced for over two hours. Most of the crowd was imbibing in a popular Brazilian drink known as a Caprihina - consisting of sugar cane liquor and lime. After two of these, I began to feel the samba beat within me and began to get up and dance as well. This encouraged many in the crowd and soon there was a dance floor full of drunken uncoordinated foreigners doing their best samba impressions. Children were grooving side by side with grandparents. It was messy but it sure was fun. Like I said the Rio spirit is infectious and will eventually get to everyone.


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