Rio. Rio de Janeiro. When I first saw you, I knew you were the one. I don’t know yet whether I’ll manage to live amidst your arms but I do know I will love you forever.

On this shore, where nothing existed but sand and jungle, a city was built. It has been classified as the world’s fifth most beautiful city in the world after Venice, Paris, Prague and Lisbon (http://www.ucityguides.com/cities/top-10-most-beautiful-cities.html). And it really deserves it, perhaps more. This is probably, with Cape Town, the city that most "wowed" me for its natural landscape. You see, not only does it have fantastic beaches within the town borders (Copacabana - which is really not the best by the way…, Ipanema, Leblon, Botafogo, Flamengo (the last two are already in the bay), but it also has an amazing lake only communicating with the sea by a man-made canal. It is all surrounded by steep peaks, the most famous being the Corcovado where the Christ statue is overlooking the city with its open arms, as if to continuously bless it. And of course, among those hills, mountains, all around the city and sometimes within, trees, trees and more trees. You are driving in Rio and somehow, on your left is the city itself, with its buildings and streets, and on the right is the jungle. Just like this. Contrast. Natural and concrete jungle.
I traveled to Rio by bus from Porto Seguro. It's an 18 hour journey so my computer, iPod, iPhone were fully charged as I was seeing this trip as never-ending. But honestly, you don't feel it. Andy (an Italian friend met in Porto Seguro) and I left Porto Seguro at 5 pm. When we arrived in Rio at 1pm the next day, I said "What ? Already ?"… There are four categories of buses : "convencional sem ar condicionado", "convencional com ar condicionado", "executivo" and "leito" (respectively regular no A/C, regular with A/C, executive and a sort of first class). The "executive" is the one we took and it was already fantastic (apart from this terrible habit they have to put the A/C at 20°C, which means literally freezing in my case after weeks of a 30°C+ treatment…). In executive buses, seats can be inclined to a level where you can almost feel like you're in a bed. 

Suspensions are extremely smooth and therefore I slept like a baby. Add to this the long chats with Andy (where we found out we had only a couple of days of difference ! Yup ! Two aquarius of the 1972 millesime ! That explains all the things we have in common !) and really, it felt like a short trip.

We got to Rio passing through Sao Gonçalo. It reminded me immediately of Seu Jorge's song "Sao Gonça" where he tries desperately to explain to his girlfriend how he was unable to meet or talk to her that day. He says, at some stage "morando em Sao Gonçalo, você sabe como é : hoje a tarde a ponte engarrafou e eu fiquei a pé" (Living in Sao Gonçalo, you know what it's like : this afternoon, the bridge was filled with traffic jam and I ended up on foot". The bridge he's talking about, our bus took it : it's the longest bridge in Latin America, joining Rio de Janeiro and Niteroi through the bay. It is 14 Km long, pretty impressive. I don't want to be stuck on foot on this one indeed.

When we got to the bus station, we said goodbye and I got on a bus, with some tourists who had found a cheap hostel in Ipanema. While in the bus, I called my friend Luz (she is Gaby's mum, Gaby being my very good Carioca friend whom I lived with for one year in Geneva after he separated from his wife Cris) who immediately told me to get off the bus and grab a cab : "Come home darling ! You can stay here !". I did as I was told : I got on a cab, starting chatting with the driver (which is an absolute must here ! Once they get you're not from here - after three words - but that you're in love with the city - after ten, they have this big smile and start telling you all sorts of stuff about the city…). The problem is that… he left me at the beginning of Luz's street, thinking it was a tiny one, in order not to have to charge me more since he had to go a long way still before he could turn around and get into the street. Yes, you guessed : Luz lives at the complete end of the street (it's actually the last building…) on top of the hill and yes, I went up by foot, with my heavy suitcase. As it was around 2 pm by a beautiful sunny day, in summer, you can imagine my humidity level when I got there : I was dripping.

Luz is busy organizing her comeback to Rio which she's left some 18 years ago. Fortunately she kept the apartment she had bought 23 years ago (and which she rented all this time) in the Laranjeiras neighborhood. For the last six months, she's been very very occupied refurbishing entirely this old apartment : breaking down wall, relocating absolutely everything. What she's achieved now is a beautiful two bedroom apartment which sits in probably one of the best spots of her neighborhood : on top of a hill, close to the state's governor's heliport, therefore guarded by the police 24/7. She has a stunning view of the area including the Christ statue on the Corcovado hill… The neighborhood is very central, close to everything and the altitude makes it nicely ventilated, which is a definitive plus in Rio de Janeiro where temperatures oscillate between 35° and 45°C in the height of the summer…

She welcomes me, feeling sorry for my unfortunate taxi ride which left me walking uphill in this scorcher and introduces me to her new flatmate : Juliana. Juliana is probably one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen : long black hair, transparent green eyes, everywhere you look is pure beauty. And she is sweet. At 35, she is a stewardess for executive flights, private planes. In her line of work, 35 years old is already a lot. She should have been out of business a long time ago if she hadn't been that stunning and… clever. Her attitude is very conservative and she therefore sets some natural barrier between the client and her. She simply inspires respect. I loved that girl straight away.

Juliana and I end up spending part of the weekend together as Luz is leaving to spend to days in the countryside. We end up having a somehow typical Carioca (1) saturday : we had a feijoada (2) in Laranjeiras, right beside Luz's house. Feijoada happens on different days in the various regions of Brazil but Saturday is common for all regions : if you want to eat feijoada in Brasil, Saturday is the date to pick :). Luz told us the feijoada just down the road was awesome and that cariocas were driving from the other side of the city to eat this one and after tasting it, I can concur. It was awesome. Portions are enormous and what they brought for the two of us could have satisfied a hungry party of four. Meanwhile, around us, people were chatting, laughing, drinking beer, eating. Kids were playing in the playground near us, I felt nostalgia of that time I was playing like those kids. Kids today in Europe or in the USA don't play like this, unattended, in the street. We are scared. I thought : good ! I'm in the right country, where they still let those kids play and know nothing can happen to them because after all, we're all watching… Grannies were sitting on their chair, right outside their home, on the pavement, watching all this life happening around them. It reminded me of Spain where this is still happening. And there is this scene in this movie "The Big Blue" where they are in Sicily and they go past this old lady who is knitting day and night, on her chair, in the street, watching what's happening. This is also what keeps our elders alive, this life around them. Let's think about it.

After this heavy feijoada, we went back to the apartment for a quick nap. I fell asleep hearing, in the background, all those samba bands playing in the neighborhood. I had a big fat smile on my face. Wow Brazil, wow. You know how to live.

Later on, we gathered our forces and willpower and jumped into… a taxi. Where to ? Oh… uh… drop us off around Ipanema, will ya ? :) Yeah. Sure. Where about ? Oh… uh… Juliana has just arrived too. She's Paulista and barely knows Rio better than me. "Anywhere". So anywhere it was.
We strolled around the neighborhood, found an awesome delicatessen/bakery where I knew immediately I could grow poor there : mozzarella de bufala, pecorino con tarfufo, italian bread, french mustard, foie gras, you name it… Stopped at the "esquina lanchonete" (corner store) for a fresh juice and a pastel (3), strolled around some more and… went to the beach ! Ipanema. Yep. By then, it was close to sunset and that's definitely what we can call a Carioca tradition to watch the sunset in the summertime on the beach. So that's what we did, watching those cuteys playing beach volley, those courageous beach vendors trying to sell the typical Carioca matte (mate, pronounce "Matché") and biscoito Globo (a biscuit which I haven't tasted cuz it really looks like s***) and those "gatinhas" (pronounce "gatchinyas", literally meaning female kitten, actually meaning good looking young women) walking around as if they were on a fashion show, bikinis as small as a tissue… 

I couldn't stop smiling. Ipanema I mean. Wow. I had this "Garota de Ipanema" song in my head (1962 ! Tom Jobim and Vinicius de Moraes…) and I couldn't believe I actually was there. You know this feeling where it's too good to be true. I had been dreaming about Rio for decades and here I was…

But the sun set. And then we had to leave. You know. Brazilian paranoia about assaults and stuff. So we grabbed a taxi and got home, saying hi to Jesus on his corcovado mountain… 

And this, my friends, was my first day in Rio de Janeiro.

Nadege


(1) A taxi driver told me - yeah, taxi drivers are an amazing source of information if you speak some Portuguese and are enthusiastic enough about the country - that Carioca (which means inhabitant of Rio de Janeiro) originally is an Indian word meaning "the house of the white man". Indeed, when Rio started to become Rio, the white men started building houses right by the beach (because basically the landscape was sea, beach and jungle…) and worked their way up through the jungle… The indians who were visiting the white men (to bring them food against money) took the habit of saying "we're going to the Carioca". And it stayed.
 
(2) Feijoada : this is the equivalent of the French Cassoulet. Every country has this dish in its own form : cereal / legume / meat - Here it's rice / black beans / pork and beef meat (with tons of Farofa and some cooked cabbage).

(3) deep fried or oven baked dough filled with either meat or cheese or both or more… Can be either delicious or really crappy depending on the place…