Rio de Janeiro – where tall, tanned, young and lovely people come out to play.
Whilst marauding across the uneven terrains of South America, trying hard to avoid pickpockets and typhoid, one hears some really dreadful stories coming from Rio de Janeiro! “Three men stormed into our hostel (I won’t say which one) and robbed everyone inside. Two of ’em went off into the rooms and the other guy stood in the common room aiming his gun at us until they all left! Great hostel though, you should stay there, they put on a free dinner for us to apologise…” sorry what?! Or “We stayed at a hostel in one of the favelas, was fine, they just asked us to come in through the back after 8pm, cos one of the gangs hang around the front and it can kick off from time to time” oh right… “a dutch girl ran in screaming and crying when we stayed there cos they were shooting at the police outside… you should check it out though, we liked staying in a favela, gives you a real local experience” does it mate?! I’ll probably give it a miss this time. Would I recommend staying in a shaggy old high-rise in Edmonton to London tourists? Probably not. Most of the people in the Rio favelas want out, so why would I want in… if hepatitis and a ‘how-to-make-a-shank’ workshop constitutes to a local experience then I’ll stick to caipirinhas on Ipanema beach thank you very much. It’s not cultural ignorance, simply logic.
However… Rio is incredible. And we had no horrific encounters during our time there. Sure the bank cards were cloned, but what’s a little fraud between friends huh?! We stayed safe and had an amazing time. It is so so easy to be captivated and enraptured by the carnival-like charms of Brazil’s ex-capital. The weather in April is delicious; dry, warm and tan-tastic, and the beaches that guard the city are honestly some of the best I’ve ever had the pleasure of digging a big hole into. There are city beaches and then there are Rio de Janeiro city beaches – a cut above the rest, golden sands and rolling tides. They are busy with bathers, but mostly vendors; you can buy anything on a beach in Rio. Ice-creams, drinks, cigarettes, açaí bowls, bikinis, suntan lotion, hot cheese, Buddha cheese, sandwiches, souvenirs…the list, just like Celine Dion’s heart, does go on.
The cuisine in Rio is not so bad either, by South American standards. After a few months of wandering hopefully into ragged restaurants and dirty diners, it was becoming apparent that the food situation wasn’t going to change much. That being said, we came across some standard Brazilian delights whilst in Rio. The most authentic of these seemed to be Acarajé. It’s a West African inspired snack consisting of mashed black-eyed peas mixed together with ground onion and shaped into fitters that are deep fried in palm oil, which is fine, because I fucking hate Orangutans… The fritters are then spilt and filled with Vatapá (bread, shrimp, coconut milk, finely ground peanuts and palm oil mashed into a creamy paste). It’s good, though an acquired taste.
Above all else, of course, are the world famous sights. Escadaria Selaron, or The Seleron Steps, was designed and created by Jorge Selarón. It’s a mosaicked stairway between Lapa and Santa Teresa, smothered in over 2,000 tiles, mirrors and ceramics. Sugarloaf Moutain; the rounded peak that welcomes the South Atlantic Ocean into Guanabara Bay. The top is only accessible via cable car, and it is the best place to watch the sun go down in Rio. And then there is big Jesus. He needs no introduction nor half-hearted explanation. He is magnificent, iconic, remindful, humbling and always camera-ready. Sure, it can get quite busy up there, but it’s Christ the Redeemer. It’s a goddamn wonder of the world – pardon the blasphemy.
"Look Mary it’s a coconut!"
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