From the Hilton to Che Lagarto

Yesterday

   Four hours after landing in Rome we were happily ensconced in our room at the Hilton, having washed and refreshed both ourselves and our belongings.  This was to prove an unfortunate contrast to Rio where it took four hours just to check in to the hostel.  We reassured ourselves during the wait that at least this way we had successfully managed half a day in Rio before being mugged for our backpacks with all our worldly belongings (good luck running off with my backpack – still too bloody heavy!).

   Rome on Thursday was a joy.  We had a leisurely stroll from the Piazza Campodiglioni to the Trevi Fountain.  Beautiful blue skies and sunshine – I was in shirtsleeves for the entire January day.  We took in the Spanish steps, the Colliseum and the Roman Forum as well before heading back to the Fountain for dinner and then off to the hotel to pick up our bags and check in for the flight to Rio. 

   Landing in Rio was marvellous.  Patchy clouds prevailed but it just looked hot and the in flight information forecast a high of 36 degrees.  At the airport, amidst the wreckage of torn and broken luggage that emerged at baggage reclaim, our bags appeared pristine and unharmed – a minor miracle by the look of everyone else’s.  The bus into Rio took us past the Macarana stadium and between Sugarloaf Mountain and Christo Redentor.  We found our way from the bus stop to the hostel without any drama and assumed the self-congratulatory airs of a couple who had successfully navigated what the guidebook implies is the most beautiful and also the most dangerous city you are likely to encounter. 

   At the hostel it turned out they had no record of our booking but this did not come as a surprise to the girl at the desk, it’s a regular occurrence evidently.  Although they had no space at Che Lagarto, she found us an apartment near another hostel, which would be ready for us “soon”.  Needless to say “soon” is a flexible notion.  As for the apartment, we travelled to various places in Copacabana looking for an address that didn’t exist.  At one point we talked our way into a seedy looking tenement block and knocked on the door of suite 504 to be greeted not by the manager but by three young men in various states of undress trying to escape the midday heat.  The confusion playing across all five faces in that doorway was something of a relief – it was nice to know our response was a universal one and that we weren’t going nuts. 

   Having booked into a single bedroom with shared bathroom facilities, we are now settled into a two bedroom apartment with our own kitchen, bathroom and separate toilet.  We are not entirely sure if this has anything to do with the hostel where we were booked (and have already paid).  But the chap who let us in and gave us the key seemed pretty happy to leave us to it until Segunda-feira (Monday) so I’m sure we’ll work it out then.  If not, we’re leaving early anyway.

Today

   We’ve just spent another day in Rio.  I say day but it’s only 12:45, we just made a mess of our clocks and thought it was nearly 5pm.  It wasn’t until we were walking back to our apartment that we realised every single clock in the city couldn’t be wrong by precisely 4 hours.  There we were, lying on the beach and taking pleasure that for the predicted 38 degrees, it wasn’t actually unbearably hot.  We marvelled at how it wasn’t that busy for a weekend, and the madness of people jogging past in the midday sun. 

   The two glorious expanses of Copacabana beach and Ipanema beach must take at least two hours to walk from one end to the other.  Two deep bands of sand, each curving away in a gentle ark from Ipanema point, which divides the two.  At what it seems was 8:20 this morning, Copacabana seemed ridiculously large and empty.  It’s only the crowds of tourists and Brazillians that put the beach into perspective.  I don’t know how many people it takes to make 5km of beach look full, but there were that many people down there today.  On the beach, in the cafés and ten deep in the water for most of Ipanema and the more sheltered stretch of Copacabana.

   The other thing we noticed walking back from the beach is the security situation.  Every apartment block almost without fail has what is effectively a cage around the entryway, as though expecting a hostile visitation.  These high metal railings and enclosures aren’t threatening or ugly, necessarily.  They are striking by how matter of fact they are.  Not an afterthought or an addition sparked by some unfortunate disturbance.  These features are part of the building design.  It’s one of a number of characteristics that suggests an undercurrent of insecurity within relatively prosperous beach-side neighbourhoods that back on to the edgier favelas. That said, my highlight has been the traffic cops.  I’m not sure they’re actually police, I think they just direct traffic, but somehow in their baggy trousers, flouro vests and sunglasses these guys manage to make the job look pretty cool.