I walked and bused and metroed and cabbed my way around Rio, and I've added the city to my list of favorites in the world.
The geography in Rio is stunning, and I was so lucky to have a birds-eye view from the plane flying in. The lovely coastline includes bays and curves, and small mountains are sprinkled throughout the area, with more of a mountain range in the distance. The city - a beautiful city - fills in the rest of the land. The sidewalks are very wide, accommodating vendors, lots of people, and large old trees. Batteries, piggy banks, cactuses, coconuts with straws ready, bohemian clothing and jewelry--you'll find it all on the street. The storefronts are narrow, the dentist waiting area has just a few seats behind the glass facade, the small supermarket checkouts bump up to the sidewalk.
The Cristo (Christ) in Rio is visible from just about anywhere, and at night it is brightly lit.
Pao Acucar, the Sugar Loaf, is a spire on the coast, and a pair of cable cars will get you to the top. To me, the view rivaled the 360-degree view I once got in the snowy Swiss Alps.
I visited the Parque Lage and the Jardim Botanico, which is among the largest botanic gardens I've seen. I can't get over the immensity of the trees.
Parque Lage
Jardim Botanico
Me with a kapok tree
Plazas have old, immense, happy trees. Sometimes their trunks and roots reach far beyond their original brick boundaries. People sit everywhere, particularly around fountains. Half a dozen large flower and plant stalls can be found in one plaza, and news stands are on every corner. There are a number of square concrete tables and seats under the trees where men play poker, chess, etc. while others look on.
At the plazas there is typically a small area with exercise equipment, and these stations are prevalent in Brazil. The equipment is new and colorful--green, yellow, and blue--installed with the elderly in mind but used by all ages. I saw one small, older woman with a purse slung over her shoulder pause at one piece of equipment, sort of like a large steering wheel. She grabbed the wheel and turned it; I think it must have been a bit for strength and a bit for flexibility. These little exercise spots are also near the beach.
The beaches! I honestly was disappointed that almost-non-existent bikinis were not in the abundance that I'd expected, but they could be found on anyone, no matter the size or age or level of cellulite or sagginess. Tan lines don't really exist on the beach, unless you're a tourist.
I did spend a few hours people-watching, wave-watching, and sipping coconut water straight from the source on the famous Copacabana beach. (I'm so sorry if Barry Manilow now settles in your head. Imagine my pain at hearing the word "Copacabana" countless times and seeing it on the map for three straight days.) Don't forget that this is "winter" in Rio!
If people on the beach aren't sunning, they're exercising. Many people, mostly men, are running, always barefoot and usually in a speedo. Calisthenics, volleyball, a trainer barking out exercises. Brazilian men work hard to earn their (much deserved) reputation!
Most prevalent on the beach is soccer, and tricks with soccer balls. I watched three men bump a soccer ball around for more than an hour with their feet, their heads, their knees, and their chests. One round must have kept the ball airborn with at least 50 hits before it touched the ground. Amazing. When it fell the ball would roll down into the water, but the water pushed it back as the final bits of wave and foam crawled up the sand. But the guys did finally lose it. They searched for a while before they gave it up to the sea. I wondered how many soccer balls (often green, yellow, and blue) are bobbing around off the coast of Brazil. More on soccer later...
Random bits... I got to see at least three types of monkeys hanging around the flora of Rio. Papayas grow more than a foot long, and avocados easily measure a foot as well. Lots of police, guards, and soldiers with guns and semi-automatic weapons (even guns at places like the botanic gardens). A new friend suggested that you're safer with muggers than you are with the police. One woman approached me and asked in Portuguese where I get my hair colored. Strangers speak frequently to each other walking down the street or even rolling down a window, commenting or asking questions. I am told that the city is pouring lots of money into the seedier parts of town in anticipation of the upcoming Olympics.
Samba bars are alive at night, and I got to hear a live samba band while getting a crash samba course from a waitress. In the plaza late at night you can find people smoking and drinking beer, friends kissing cheeks, and police on the fringes (drinking alcohol is allowed, but because of complaints from nearby residents, the selling of it is no longer legal; whispers of Heineken can lead to an illicit seller).
And such friendly people. My new friends Marcia and Ju were so gracious and helpful. They were so patient, though I speak almost no Portuguese and they speak limited English. Marcia settled me into her bedroom and then dashed to her cell phone to translate "My home is your home." And we once got a good laugh when instead of asking if I wanted to take a shower, as she intended, she asked if I wanted to wash the dishes. Their sweet dog, Hoff, is both anxious and jealous. In my three days in his home I could never predict whether I would hear him racing into my room with a growl and a (gentle) bite or sauntering in with a wag for a scratch behind the ears.
Ju, Hoff, and Marcia
No comments:
Post a Comment