20–25 June 2013
Despite it costing a million dollars to visit, we quite liked Rio. We stayed the first few nights in a hostel and the last two in a posh hotel with a balcony overlooking Copacabana Beach.
Our room at the Ipanema Beach House Hostel was slightly more basic than we were expecting, especially for what it cost, but it met our needs – double bed, tiny shower, toilet, sink (we had to ask for a blanket though!). It was like a little cabin in the hostel’s courtyard. Right where breakfast is served every morning, so no chance of sleep ins – especially when they started playing Latin jazz at 8am (much to my delight and Chris’ chagrin). The hostel was very well situated – walking distance to everything, including shops, bars and the beach.
Our room in the posh hotel was lovely though (and we wished we’d stayed there the whole time – if only we were loaded!). It was on the sixth floor, with a balcony overlooking the entire Copacabana Beach (which we made the most of with drinks and nibblies out there each night). It also had a big king-sized bed (heavenly compared with the squishy, soft, dilapidated hostel bed that left us feeling about 50 years older than we are!), a big flat-screen TV, more robes, more Haviana thongs (in our sizes!), a mini bar, comfy chairs, tables, and a fancy modern bathroom. Oh, and did I mention the views..? We didn’t use the rooftop pool or bar though, and only hit the restaurant for breakfast (which was delicious).
Rio’s buildings and facilities seem a bit more Western (American/European) than the rest of South America that we’d seen. It is relatively clean and organised. Cars stay on their side of the road, indicate, follow road rules and have working seat belts. Fashion is slightly less tacky. People seem healthier (and are better looking) – despite all the cheesy, fast-food restaurants around. It reminds me a bit of America, but with a touch of Fiji and Thailand because of the simple buildings and roads, and all the greenery.
There’s a real tropical feel to Rio, with gorgeous palms and vines and bromeliads, and what look like kapok trees, everywhere. However, there are also a lot of concrete and cement buildings, and footpaths (broken and new). Rio's paths try to flatten and tame the landscape, whereas in Iguassu the paths are more natural, and pavers and bricks follow the curves of the land. Iguassu feels quite a bit more warm, charming and characterful than Rio.
The weather was mostly nice – a mix of sunshine and rain, slightly more humid than the other places we’d visited, and with an almost constant haze and cloudiness that seemed to prevent the sun warming us up that much. Because of that, it wasn’t quite warm enough to make the most of the beach, unfortunately. Of course, the weather was impeccable on our last day in town, but we couldn’t hit the beach then. Chris tried swimming the first day we were there, and eventually convinced me to take a quick dip. We both only went in up to our bottoms, because it was just far too rough (pulling you in and down) and cold to go any further. No one else seemed to be swimming either, although there were lifeguards on patrol.
The beaches reminded me of St Kilda beach – with a real mix of people. Some ‘beautiful’ people, with perfect abs, pert bums, pretty faces and styled hair; some overweight, less well-presented people; the young and old; families; gay; straight; all ethnicities; beggars; the rich… you name it. There are also loads of street/beachside vendors, selling everything from sarongs, t-shirts and key rings to jewellery, pictures, novelty beer glasses, drinks and food. But when we were there, there weren’t quite as many people as I was expecting on the beaches (although Copacabana Beach was obviously popular). And there was a distinct lack of g-strings and nudity!
Along the promenades, people play volleyball, soccer or tennis; roller-blade; cycle; sun bake; read; build sandcastles (there was quite a display of sand art on one stretch of beach); or just chill in the little cafes. But again, there weren’t any pumping bars or clubs, which I had expected along the beachfront. Instead, fancy hotels and apartment blocks – with surprisingly few balconies – line the road along the beach. We did admire the Copacabana Palace – an Oriente Express hotel, the same chain as the one we stayed at in the Iguassu national park. It exudes fanciness and money – resembling the most beautiful, old majestic, stark white palace you can imagine. It looks straight out of a fairy tale and completely different to the boring grey, black or brown concrete and glass structures around it. We didn’t go in.
We walked a lot in our exploration of Rio. Up and down Ipanema and Leblon beaches, to the Botanical gardens, and up and down the shopping and restaurant/bar strips. Despite the distances, it’s a relatively walkable city (in the section we stayed in, anyway). We also felt relatively safe. There seemed to be police everywhere – on almost every street corner – which helped. It might have been because of the protests in the other parts of town (and the predicted protests in our part of town that never eventuated). We never saw or experienced any trouble, though.
The Botanical Gardens are some of the best I’ve seen (and I’ve dragged Chris to a few!). There are loads of different exotic and tropical plants, lush green lawns, and a real sense of the mysterious and beautiful. I felt quite at peace walking around there (despite Chris chivvying me along), watching the sun break through the palms and trees, breaking up the mist. Quite magical. I made a point of exploring the extensive medicinal garden, recognising some of the plants that I have growing at home. Interestingly (to me, at least), they grow their Mother of all herbs outside – a huge specimen – while I keep mine inside in a pot in the window to keep it alive. I guess their climate is a touch warmer than ours is.
Rio has a plethora of friendly cats – most of whom I believe I met and snuggled with near the Botanical Gardens. One of which was a lovely little white cat with unusual proper brown patches, who jumped onto my lap and head butted me. It seemed to live with a bunch of other strays in a car park complex, in which the owners had built little houses and feed trays for them. Another cat, who I met in a newsagent's stall in the main street, was called Mr Growler. He was a very affectionate, roughly six-month-old kitten who bounded around the shop and was clearly well-loved by the men who ran it. The hostel also had a resident long-haired beauty, who lazed on the front counter or the poolside deckchairs with considerable cattitude.
About half way through our stay, we took a day tour around the main city sights – Sugarloaf Mountain, Christ the Redeemer and Escadaria Selaron, a staircase in Saint Theresa covered in tiles from all around the world.
It's extremely windy at the top of Sugarloaf Mountain, but the view is fantastic – you can see the different areas of Rio below, including the big lake and an airport in the tip of a jut of land. Every time a plane lands, it looks like they are going straight into the water, before they veer hard left at the last minute and touch down on the tarmac. Big black eagle-like birds with white tips on their wings soar in the thermals, happily dipping and swooping up and down the mountainside.
Birds and other animals and plants are immortalised in the exquisite (but rather kitsch) gemstone statues, sold in the souvenir shops there (and the airport and other touristy places in Rio). Parrot’s feathers are made from a collection of different coloured, intricately carved stones, with the bird perching on a lump of citrine. Other fauna, including butterflies and lizards, sit regally atop or inside amethyst caves, quartz or trees made from different crystals. While not exactly my taste, even if I’d wanted to take one home, they were a bit out of my budget – they cost thousands of dollars.
We visited the main Sugarloaf Mountain and the mountain on the way there via cable car, queuing with hoards of other tourists and locals to get up and down. We were actually lucky to go when we did, because they were closing the mountain later for a big party to watch football or something. The lower mountain was already set up with bars, marquees, seating and portaloos.
Similar to Sugarloaf Mountain, Christ the Redeemer statue offered birds’ eye views of Rio and is teeming with tourists. The statue sits atop a mountain in a national park, so we parked at the bottom and got the mini bus up. It’s very lush, green and jungle-y, with cheeky monkeys and parrots frolicking in the vines and trees.
There was a beautiful, abandoned, old building where we parked. Its walls had collapsed or been overtaken with vines, and its stairways finished in mid air, like in movies. It was quite eerie. Our guide said it was once a hotel, but when the land it was built on became national park, there were too many rules and regulations for the owners to operate it. It's such a shame – its views and setting are stunning.
The Christ statue itself is also pretty impressive, especially when you think about how they built it. But like with the pyramids, it just wasn’t as big as I was expecting it to be. However, the statue does have a sense of being ‘all seeing’, which I guess is its point. We took lots of photos and fought our way through the crowds to take in the views, then decided it was too chilly and windy for us, so headed back down to wait for the others.
Sadly, the artist who had created Escadaria Selaron, Jorge Selaron, committed suicide five months before we visited it (in January). Part of his legacy is this intricately decorated staircase, which forms the canvas for a piece of art he started creating with odd tiles he scavenged, and he said would only end with his death. As his artwork on the staircase became famous, more and more tourists visited it, bringing with them, or later sending him, tiles from all around the world. Some tiles were even especially made for the stairs, with people’s names and personalised messages – such as celebrations of marriages and bands, or ‘in memory of’ – on them. We were amazed at the variety and number of tiles he'd laid – it was an interesting and beautiful piece of art.
The area of town in which the stair case is located, Santa Theresa, is also very interesting and beautiful. I regretted that we didn’t get a chance to explore it actually. It's full of beautiful, ornate old buildings set along small, European-like streets and cobblestone alleys. It's a bit posh and very arty and Bohemian, known for its galleries and café and restaurant culture.
It's also quite a contrast to the favelas (slums) that we saw driving around town. They appeared to be a mass of ramshackle, rundown houses on a hillside. Our guide told us that the favelas we saw were the roughest ones in Rio, and that one of them is one that movies are based on (although they are lucky enough to have electricity and running water, he said...).
On our last day in Rio, we took the train into the main part of Rio's city to visit museums. The trains are surprisingly efficient, frequent, easy-to-catch, clean and modern. It's a shame we didn’t make use of them earlier in our stay. The main city is as any large, modern city – bustling and busy, filled with people in suits. We made our way through the historical part of town to the historical museum, right near the law buildings. I found it hard to walk in a straight line because I spent most of the time looking up at all of the beautiful, old buildings, covered with ornate facades, statues and art.
The historical museum is housed in what was Rio's original fort from the 1500s. It still features old cannons from that era, and gorgeous views of the harbour from a second-floor courtyard. The museum traces Brazil’s past – from stone-age man right through to the modern day, incorporating details about slavery and its abolition, the mining boom and the Spanish invasion. It even has an old (and apparently very famous) homeopathic apothecary store that the owner had donated in its entirety. It would take hours to go around the museum properly, and Chris’ patience for such things doesn’t last quite that long… so we did a whistle-stop tour instead.
The Republic museum was unfortunately closed so some people could film a movie or documentary about past president Getulio Vargas, so we walked around the museum gardens (lovely, lush and tropical) before heading back to Copacabana for a last walk up and down the beach, and indulging in some beach-side cocktails and coconut water from a coconut (not the best of ideas before what turned out to be an almost two-hour drive to the airport, due to traffic jams!).
After exploring (and/or shopping) each day, we relaxed each evening with a couple of whiskies in the hostel lounge or our posh hotel room, reading, writing, watching the riots on TV and snacking before going out to grab tea. It seemed like the riots went from fairly peaceful protests to full blown violence with tear gas, smoke bombs, truncheons, fires and shooting in the first hour of us watching them. I did feel for the police horses. The hostel staff and their partners and friends all sat around watching them with us, in total disbelief at what they were seeing. Luckily the riots were on the other side of Rio and in other Brazilian cities, far away from where we were.
We ate well and the food was quite nice. While the hostel breakfasts were simple – rolls, condiments, fruit, tea, coffee and juice – the hotel breakfasts were an endless supply of cooked and fresh sweet and savoury delights, including cake, fruit (cacti!) and vegetables, and a range of teas, coffees and juices – one of the best spreads I’ve seen in a hotel, all with stunning views of the beach.
We sampled tapas and cocktails and wine on the first night in a little bar near our hostel (delicious); pizza and salad near the Botanical gardens; a veritable feast in a lovely Lebanese restaurant opposite Copacabana beach; tasty kebabs/felafel takeaways; cheesy pub chips; various salads in local restaurants; more salads and desserts in salad bars; an ice cream, sorbet and ganache concoction appropriately called ‘Just married’; and many, many cocktails – mainly different flavoured caipirinhas (well, the cocktail part of it might have just been me).
We also ventured to a couple of bars – Shenannigans, so Chris could watch the basketball and we could listen to a semi-decent cover band and try to work out the pub’s convoluted way of paying for things (they tick off a list of what you consume during the night, then you queue up haphazardly for an eternity so you can pay before you leave), and another random bar where we managed to find a table so Chris could watch the soccer (most of the city shops had closed down because it was such a big game, so there wasn’t much else to do but to join in!).
As with most big cities, an almost-week in Rio was not long enough to take it all in – but we made a good dint in it. It would have been nice to spend longer, to see and do more. As it would in many of the places we visited (ok, maybe not La Paz). But sadly, as with all good things, our South American honeymoon adventure had come to an end and we had to make our way back home to reality (and our two, probably very grumpy, cats).
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