I have now been in Rio for 3 weeks, and it is time to move on. In this post I’m going to tell you what I did my last few days, show some pics, and summarise this visit.
Since I’ve done pretty much everything there is to do in Rio, I had to figure out what to get up to these last days. The last thing one the list of activities you must do when visiting Rio was a favela tour. On the day I was scheduled to do the tour it was heaving down with rain, and clever as I am I showed up in my flip flops and shorts (white). I did have a rain jacket, but that was the extent of my preparations. I was a little concerned about bringing my rather expensive Nikon camera to the favela, but according to the tour guide nobody gets their possessions stolen there. This is due to the fact that this particular favela is controlled by the drug cartels, and if they see someone steal from a gringo (foreigner) they will shoot or severely injure that person – in front of you. If the favela gets a bad reputation no people would come to visit, which means the drug dealers wouldn’t get any money. Apparently the most dangerous time to visit a favela is when the police is there, because then they just start shooting drug dealers who in return shoot back, and civilians get caught in the crossfire. The tour guide said it was fine to take pictures of anything except the drug dealers, as they might shoot you. This notion worried me slightly; how do I know if someone’s a drug dealer? Do they wear matching stripy clothes? Or do they just have a sign on them saying “drug dealer”? In the end however the tour guide just let us know whenever we couldn’t take photographs. The ride up to the top of the favela was exhilarating; one by one we got on the back of a motorbike and shot up the winding streets of the favela. I loved it. I think I feared for my life about 60% of the ride, but it was quite exciting when they had a competition of who’d get to the top first! In the favela itself we went to an art gallery where the artists have had no formal education, so all the art is pure talent. I was tempted to buy a really nice painting, but it was in the 75 euro region so I decided against it. We also went to a school, a bakery, and even got a little samba show featuring a small child dancing.
In the evenings I’m trying make the best of my last Rio experience. It has included among other things a card game, with a stupid rule that you can’t say the D word (starts with D, ends with Rink). If you do, you have to keep your chin on the table until someone else says it. As it turns out, I’m abhorrently crap at not saying that word, so I was forced to look like an idiot for about one hour. I’m sticking with saying ‘alcoholic beverage’ now, in the event that I would have to play it again.
So, the inevitable summary of this city. Rio de Janeiro is an amazing city, with many things to do and see. The people are lovely, although they don’t speak much English (as discussed earlier). My hostel experience has been a mixed one; staying in a room with 11 other people is a good way to meet new people, but if you’re looking for a good night’s sleep it isn’t ideal. People snore (some snore REALLY loud), people stumble in at various times of night intoxicated by the consuming of alcoholic beverages, turn the lights on, talk loudly… you get the picture. I also haven’t had a single hot shower since I arrived in Rio, but that is probably just because the standard of my hostel is quite shit. Forgive me for the upcoming rants of cursing, but it is in quotation so I guess that makes it acceptable. So anyway, another weird thing about this hostel is that one of the staff members is referred to as “the fucking crazy motherfucking Argentinian”. Not only is he entitled this name by his fellow colleagues, but he even calls himself this. I thought it was a one-off thing, but I’ve noticed that he introduces himself as this (in various modifications, sometimes it’s just “the fucking Argentinian”) every time someone new checks in. I don’t know, but I sort of think it reduces the level of professionalism of this accommodation service.
The Brazilian food is a lot blander than I had expected. Their main traditional dish is literary black beans and rice. I don’t wish to slag off black beans and rice, but to me it’s just a bit disappointing and uninventive. Another weird traditional food is Farofa, which is fried flour. I thought it sounded quite interesting up until the point when I tried it, realising it actually just was fried flour. Who came up with that? It sounds like I’m just slagging off an entire nation and its culture, but that’s not the case at all. I love Rio, and I would definitely return.
So tomorrow I’m off to Buenos Aires, which I have heard so many good things about. Not only is it cheaper than Brazil, but apparently the food is amazing. Can’t wait to sink my teeth in a rare-cooked steak! In the meantime, here are some pictures!
Monkey in Jardim Bôtanico
Sunset from Sugar Loaf Mountain
Samba in the Favela
Christ the Redeemer
Ipanema Beach
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