Wednesday 1 June 2005

Rio

Rio is gorgeous.
Long sandy beaches, hazy blue skies. Copacabana has seen better days - the waves crash onto the shore - still compelling. Ipanema is the place to be seen with your face corrected by surgery in swimming trunks walking your dog. It was named by the Indians and means dangerous water because of the undertow. Im staying away from all that pazazz in a 100 year old house on the side of a hill not far from a shanty town. You' re never far from one in a city of 6  million with 1 million people in favelas.  We heard machine guns and rifle shots not far from the house. The city is full of contradictions.  Street kids backflip in traffic for loose change while the rich roll by with their car windows up- air-con on. Man-made and nature vie for space along the tropical coastline. The big
Jesus the great equaliser looks down over us all.
We misjudge the weather and arrive on Corcovado in an envelope of cloud. Zero visibility. Is this being blind?  Blank Bright White Light. We saw his feet. No view. and an eerie silence high up above  everything.. then a break in the clouds and everyone snapping pictures. Strangest thing, there are escalators up there.. on top of the mountain..

I'm taking quite nicely to not working .. like a duck to water. Hanging around doing nothing much seems to come quite naturally to me. My worst mistake was going to the hairdressers where I let a man called WELLY who clearly couldn't understand a word I was saying loose with a pair of scissors on my head.  I'm embarassed to say I cried like a baby on the way home.
The roads here are mad. Eveyone is competing in the Grand prix. No one stops at red lights, taxis dont slow down and there's a lot of lane switching.  I'm seeing traffic from a Fusca - a South American Beatle - which in my eyes is - travelling in style.

I bought a football shirt. Fluminense were playing. I was caught up supporting the local team and chanting like a hooligan in the street. They take it all very seriously here and have ID cards and DVLCs stamped like true Geordies.  It's a part of their identity. I have it on good knowledge,  Brazilians are more skilled because they play with smaller balls in schools but still cry like people with Ipanema mullets if anyone tries to  tackle them.

No one ever seems to sit down here. They're either  doing pressups backflips pull ups or some other kind of activity on traffic islands, in parks, beside the sea.

I just returned from a weekend in Sao Paolo. One daunting place. The size of London but all
high rise. Glad I was with people who knew where they were going. To a house belonging to one Carcaraca which means nutcase and his freind Cabeza which means Headcase. What a laugh. Even without translation they were high in entertainment value. Best night out in Rio so far was in
LAPA which is like nowhere I have ever been. A non stop party of soundspeakers spilling out on the streets. Gave me an idea of how crazy the carnival must be. .  La Festa.
Heading to Iguacu - major waterfall
just in time for the rainy season

Hope all goes well in
your lives there.
From here.

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