Rio

Here we are, having just made it through the coldest English March in 50 years, so I will take this opportunity to reflect on warmer times in sunny Rio, the week before Christmas 2012.  Jim was in Rio for work, so I flew home to Louisiana first to drop the girls off with my parents (who are amazing and were happy to take care of them for ten days!) and then flew down to Rio to meet Jim.  Traveling on an international flight by myself was so easy compared to the usual situation with two small children in tow, and I even got to stop over in Houston for an extended layover where I caught up with family and had a delicious and gigantic Tex Mex meal and margaritas before my long flight.  On the flight, I watched movies and slept...a great start to a much needed and warm holiday!

Jim met me at the airport when I arrived. The Rio international airport is very small and it will be interesting to see how they handle the crowds of the 2016 Olympics.  After waiting for my luggage for a scarily long time, I then joined a line of people waiting to be 'discharged' (or that's what it seemed like) from the airport.  I don't know what the process was, but I was not detained by the lady who was manning this operation and was happy to see Jim.  On the way into Rio from the airport, our driver helpfully pointed out the slums--the Favelas--on all sides.  Young people on motorbikes whizzed past us and people were selling snacks and water on the side of the highway.  When we were not looking over the favelas, the scenery was urban and lush.

We were staying in the apartment of one of Jim's work friends who was heading back to England that evening.  But, because she was still there and we didn't want to make her feel awkward, we just dumped our stuff in her apartment and hit the town and the beach. First stop: lunch.  "Per Kilo" cafes are very popular in Rio, so that's where we went to load our plates up with yummy food and pay per kilo.  

Obviously, the beach is where you want to go right after eating an enormous plate of food.  We headed to Leblon Beach, where I declined to put on sunscreen (it was overcast!) and got sunburned. 

I also had my first of many delicious and refreshing coconuts.  They are sold all over the place--on the beaches and the streets--and the way you get to the water inside is to watch as the purveyor of coconuts hacks the top off expertly with a machete before handing it to you.  There were more than a few missing fingers, we noticed.

After we had our fill of the beach, we decided to stroll the streets of Leblon and sample the national cocktail: the caipirinha.  It's made with sugar cane rum, sugar and lime and it effectively knocked me on my butt and ended my ability to power through until our hostess headed to the airport, so we dragged ourselves back to her apartment, trying to be as unimposing as possible. 

At this point, so long after our trip, I can't remember all the details, but the next day was when we decided to hit the beach and then head up Sugarloaf Mountain to take in the views. It was steamy. Jim started sweating as soon as we got out the door.

In Rio there are orchids growing everywhere.  These had been planted in the side of this tree.

Amazing feats of athleticism (and amazing bodies) were on display at Ipanema Beach, where groups of muscle bound men played volleyball with their feet in tiny bathing suits. 

And the sea was calm and refreshing. We slowly let ourselves relax.

And ate some more delicious per kilo food--this time it was Mediterranean!

After stuffing our faces, we were ready to climb up Sugarloaf (as far as we could):

This beach--Vermelha Beach--is where a lot of the military families hang out and is spectacularly beautiful. We imagined that it would have been a nice place to take the girls...but since they weren't there, we headed up the mountain instead!

For part of our hike up, we were following a very large and loud family of Brazilians, but we passed them and continued.  As we walked up, a man saw us and started making monkey sounds to another man up the mountain. The other man responded with monkey sounds.  Convinced that we were about to get jumped, I turned around and headed down the mountain again, back to the loud Brazilian family, who were taking pictures in front of a beautiful view.  But they were taking too long, so Jim and I decided to be bold.  It turns out that the monkey sound guys were trying to sell tour guides. It was all slightly shady, but we didn't get jumped and headed happily up and up until we reached the middle platform, where we could catch the cable car up the rest of the mountain.

Jim in one of the old school cable cars that they used to use:

Jim is scared of heights and all I can think of when I'm on a cable car is how bad it would be if the cable broke...so the trip up and down the mountain made us both a little nervous...but the views were awesome!

At the top, wet and sweaty and probably smelly, we were happy!

It was December, so the Christmas lights were out and the mood was festive.  Rio has the largest floating Christmas tree in the world. (I thought it floated around, but it is anchored. It does change colors and patterns frequently, though!)

Tropical Christmas!

I thought that since Brazil is so Catholic, things would be very quiet on a Sunday morning. Not so!  Despite fog and apparent gunshots (we were later told that they football related fireworks in the favelas, but gunshots are much more exciting) lots of people were out rollerblading, walking, running, swimming and, as always, drinking coconuts.

Oh yeah...and practicing capoeira, which involves strong abs, good coordination, a great sense of rhythm and a good sense of humor. And drums.  I think that whenever Jim and I are feeling irritated with each other, we should practice some capoeria. And drink coconuts.

A Sunday market was serving up some seriously yummy Brazilian food, which I don't know the name of.  We had lots.

The merchants were all handing out samples of fresh and delicious fruits and veg and everything was very colorful and festive.

I wish you could get fruit like this in London....

We didn't want to leave Rio without having heard some good music, so after receiving a very long lecture on Bossa Nova from a Bossa Nova shop owner, we headed to a Bossa Nova bar for some food and some music. We were overwhelmed by the smell of moldy carpet mixed with cat pee and ended up buying only the most expensive french fries we had ever purchased (and drinks), but the music was fun and good and worth the smell and the overpriced food.

The next day, on our city bikes, we headed to Flamengo beach, which, though beautiful, is very smelly and not a good place to swim.  We didn't know this, but the smell of the water was enough to warn us off. The nice part about that beach (besides the pretty white sand) is that it's located along a big park so we spent a little time eating our PB&J sandwiches and snacks under the trees and rehydrating.  Then we remembered Jim's mom's rule of never sitting under a coconut tree and moved to the smelly beach.

One can't go to Brazil without visiting a churrascaría and we went to Porcao (suggested to us by our Cariocan friend Andrea) where Jim nearly fainted with lust and joy over the huge selection of grilled meats.  I, on the other hand, enjoyed the salad bar and the delicious sushi (and drinks).

After we had stuffed ourselves to the max, we walked down to the beach and watched beach volleyball at night...and a homeless family bedding down on the sand.  Poverty is extreme and in your face in Rio. I was shocked by how hostile people were towards homeless people and was also reminded of how much we don't noticed in London, where our homeless people are tucked away and less obvious (maybe because of the weather, maybe because we're too busy with our lives to notice them).

A work party led us into the Lapa district and, eventually, into a Samba club where we wedged ourselves in with a bunch of sweaty and partying Brazilians and attempted to Samba Dance (not very successfully, but it was fun anyway).  The drinks were yummy and our only major faux pas was that we happily chowed down on food that was being catered for the party we were wedged into.  We just thought they carried food around for everyone! And because we don't speak Portugese, we only figured out that we were eating food for other people when the waiter gave us a dirty look.  Stupid gringos!

On our last night, en route to have sushi (sushi is big in Rio...and yummy!) we stumbled through this Christmas scene.  Fun and festive...but it was time to go back home and celebrate Christmas with our family.