Rio Sayer

I know I said, see you in Peru, at the end of last week's posting, but I hadn't done my one-day bonanza tour of Rio at that point and since I did so bloody much I thought you'd might like to know about it. Once again, I'm thinking only of you and what's in your best interests. You're welcome.

Getting into Rio was a bit of a shock. After the skin-searing heat of Salvador we arrived into a rain drenched city in the midst of some of its worst storms of recent history. One major tunnel to the city centre had actually been blocked by a mudslide, that's how blooming much it had been pissing it down. Yeah. Although, by the time we left the airport it was really only spitting - that fine rain that soaks you through. This was a disaster, though, because everything I wanted to do the following and only day I was to be there was dependent upon the weather holding up. Imagine my surprise, then, when on the next morning I awoke to a bright and sunshiney day. All the predictions had been doom and gloom from the locals and the internet weather reports, so this was an unexpected boon that I immediately began capitalising on by feverishly preparing my itinery for the day. The first stop was the Cococabana Beach - I realise last week I denounced these sandy bastards after they turned my face a perpetual shade of embarrassment, but can you really go to Rio and not step foot on one of the most famous beaches in the world? So that's exactly what I did - I stepped onto the white sand, had my picture taken and then legged it before the sun got any funny ideas. Hot flamey tosser. I should point out that I wasn't doing all this on my own. A lovely couple from Blighty who I'd met in Salvador (that's right - if you're reading this Matt and Lee, I'm calling you lovely) were coincidently coming to Rio at the same time and were also partaking in the Rio day of fun and laughter.

After the beach and scouting around for a romantic hotel that Matt and Lee were to spend their last days in SA in (ah. See - lovely) we made our way to rendez-vous with a tour guide who was taking us to meet our hang-gliding instucter. Yup, we were off to strap ourselves to a stranger and a canopy and hurl ourselves off a mountain. But then the picture probably gave that away. This was good - in fact, it was more than good, it was a real treat to see Rio in all its glory from up high, the problem was I got lumbered with the world's most miserable git as my instructer. Whereas Matt and Lee got a cheery description of the city as it spread out beneath them, my gliding buddy remained mostly mute, speaking only to tell me not to touch the steering bar (I never did, but he repeated it about 10 times) or to tell me he was taking a picture. You can see him smiling in the photo, but I assure you, this only ever happened as the camera clicked and strangest of all he would make a painfully strained whooping sound periodically when it was perfectly clear he did this 15 times a day and probably got more thrills taking out the bins. Plus he played numerous remixes of the Crazy Frog track in his jeep without so much as a curling sneer. A shame, but ultimately good to have ticked off the list. Tick.

The next stop on the whistle-stop tour was to the favelas (shanty towns) in the city, made famous from the Brazilian film, City of God. This felt a little exploitative as really it's just me going and saying, 'look at the poor people!' but the money goes back into projects there and the people taking the tours all live within the slums themselves and have a real pride in their home. Plus I love looking at poor people, so I'd be a fool to pass up an opportunity like this. It's one of those moments that brings everything back into sharp focus. It's easy to say, 'they really touched me and made me realise how I take everything for granted', (one did touch me, but was subsequently made an example of upon my request) and I'm not gonna harp on about the haves and have-nits, just to say that there's a happy contentedness in that place I've never experienced anywhere else. They justifiably get upset about the outside world's perception of their lives through films like City of God and you can understand why when you go there. I certainly took that view of the place before I arrived, but afterwards I realised it was about much more than that there - it's a community which pulses with Brazil's natural vibrancy and although it's definitely more raw there, because of that it seems more pure. Deep, eh?

OK, so leaving the deep and meaningfuls aside for now, I left the favelas behind and made my way back to the hostel to prepare for my final night in Brazil. A big night it was too. Friday night is a biggy no matter where you are, but when you're in Rio they take their partying very seriously. There's an area called Lapa, which is well-known for its hedonism and incredible nightlife, so what better place to spend my last night? After a couple of drinks and some average food (but enormous portions) the promised rain began to fall, but who cared at this point? Not I. I had finally got one over on the weather and happily sat under cover drinking ridiculously large Jack Daniels and watching as the rain drenched the street outside. In a lull between the torrents we sped off in a taxi, arriving in Lapa 20 minutes later where all around people were dancing, singing and drinking. Lots. Finally settling on a cheapish club we got our groove thang on and last thing I can remember is getting up on a stage-like platform and acting like I was Ricky bloody Martin. A suitably hectic day in a frenetic country like no other. Right, now for Peru...

Thanks to LSD (or something like that) for a comment on the last posting. It was a little poem, weren't it? Soothing and comforting it was too. Also, a little message for Matt and Lee - great to meet you guys and all the best for your return to the motherland. By the way, after you left they got me for the tour and photos - bastards.