January River

We had but a long weekend in Rio. It is therefore easy to say ‘Rio, tick’ and move on without a backwards glance. The truth is, however, that our senses were only just being awakened to the place before we were so rudely moved on (albeit by ourselves). This said, I can say that Rio has by far the most beautiful skyline of any city that I have had the pleasure of visiting and our stay has been an unbeatable amuse-bouche for our onward journey. Oh I look forward to coming back one day.

Our first morning, perhaps somewhat surprisingly, was not spent discovering Copacabana beach, just a stone’s throw from our hotel. My first morning was in fact spent in battle with Tom, who was trying to peel me away from the hotel breakfast buffet, risking life and limb trying to interrupt my chair/buffet/chair/buffet/chair/buffet cycle. Put me near unlimited pastries, watermelon, pan o queijos (pingpong size light-as-you-like cheese breads) and cassava cake dipped in white chocolate sauce, and we have trouble. Restraint is clearly the first of my travel challenges.

Copacabana, *that song*, the heart of Rio as seen by the outsider. Its cool 1.6km of beach leaves a lot of room to bathe, a refreshing change from sardine tin European beaches. Bathing is risky business, however, as the red ‘Alto Risco’ flags (high risk) flutter in the fair wind, and waves at least 2m high throw salty mist into the atmosphere, obscuring the many mountains that jut out into Rio’s skyline. I chose to avoid the riptide risk, and dabbled knee deep enjoying the cool-warm azure waves transporting me to paradise. Bare-chested body-confident Brazillians meander down the beach in droves, I was pleased to see most were not as ‘insta perfect’ as expected, cue joining in and beginning the inevitable countdown to sunburn. That pesky southern hemisphere sun, couldn’t have predicted that it does the same as in the north.

Our hotel was helpfully sandwiched between Copacabana and Ipanema beach. Yes, the beaches of *that song* and *that other song* are just 400m from one another. Who knew? We stopped for a slightly hectic lunch at ‘Belmonte’, on Ipanema, to try our first coxhinas - cassava dumplings filled with chicken/cheese & deep-fried before heading over to the Botanical garden. Our first and clearest observation in the garden is how well things grow when they are not in a dark London flat. Towering palms, 200 years old, planted when the garden was started, fiddle leaf fig trees stretching up and agave bushes stretching across making it look like a scene set-up for Jurassic Park with golf course lawns. In the lake, water lillies with vertical sides (to hold water like a bowl) can grow up to 2m, shading the largest and most grotesque carp which slowly slug around the lake-bed. The Orchid house is home to 600 orchids, rainbow colours and every form, it’s hard to believe they all stem from the same family. We also had the joy of spotting our first toucan, scavenging atop the palms dropping Açai berries (yes, that superfood we pay hundreds for) on our heads. Tom quick fingered got a few shots and we went home pleased with our haul.

At 4am we were woken. Woken by the dreaded, evil, demonic Borrachudos. What are they you ask? Well, sizing up at about 1mm, we had actually met these black-fly demons in the botanical gardens without much thought, though they did draw blood with their bites. Hell-bound, we scritched and scratched said bites through the night; these little gnats are endemic to the Rio region, mosquitoes on steroids. As I write this, 5 days later, we are still itching and scritching, apparently this can go on for 14 days. Lord save us - wear DEET.

Our next discovery of Rio was a trip to the downtown area of Lapa. This is home to the famed Selaron steps (named, humbly, after the inverted name of their designer Norales) as well as the ugliest cathedral in the world. The cathedral’s brutalist cement cone towers high in an area already inundated with high-rise buildings, putting question to the number of people you can fit in a square kilometre. Lapa is a vibrant, busy area, reminiscent to me of London but with more visible poverty lining most streets. We did a free walking tour which enlightened us to the colonial origins of Brazil, but perhaps more importantly introduced us to brigadeiros; again, pingpong sized balls, this time filled with chocolate or dulce de leche. We bought a handful from a friendly local lady and felt them restore us from the pleasant but steaming hot walking tour.

It was an enlightening trip up the Selaron steps, the multicoloured staircase of which you have probably been exposed to many instagram photos. Look up the stairs and you can get ‘the shot’, happy smiling singles or couples, ecstatic to be at these stairs (of which I can guarantee you they do not know the history). Looking down the stairs from the top, however, you can the lines of people queuing up to get ‘the shot’. I observed more than one argument between people whilst viewing this; a true insta vs reality moment which we thoroughly enjoyed. Post this, we stopped at a very Portuguese restaurant for a local stew. It was tasty enough for our hungry bellies, and thankfully only the next day that we saw the English translation of our dish. ‘Swine stew’. Ahhh, so that’s what the floating bits of unidentified meat were…

When the tour guide pointed out that Rio de Janeiro means January River, I was caught by the poetiscism of its anglicised name. It sounds like a musician who died before their time. The first conquistadors to land in what is now Rio on January 1st in 1502, thought that the bay was a river. The name came easily it seems. Brimming with such facts, we hopped over to sugarloaf mountain in the east of the city, just in time to join the hordes (and, allergic to queues and crowds, I do mean hordes) to take the two cable cars 400m up. Despite the crowds, the view was absolutely worth it and our timing perfect. The sun was slinking down behind the contoured mountains, throwing out shards of light, with a final image of a silhouetted Christ the Redeemer towering over the city, reminding everyone who’s boss here. Couple of caipirinhas in hand, we found a quiet bench and watched the colours cross from orange to purple and finally black. Sun down over a fabulous city, absolutely a highlight of the trip, no matter what else comes.

We have now departed January River, but please read Tom’s blog below for a short sharp story of the most excellent Brazilian steak experience before we left.