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| Rio Part II | |||||||||||||||||||
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18th - 24th July (Thurs-Thurs):Every time I pass over the wonderous 80s engineering like the stacked bridge over the ocean, I wonder how they repair the structural damage less obvious than the crumbling concrete railings that I can see.. they certainly can“t close the road as its the only one to Barra (the suburb). Ipanema is treating me exceptionally well, playing my first game of Frescoball - hand tennis - on the beach. I wonder if the Jui-Jitsu wielding sterioded man who beat up two guys on the beach was accidentally hit by them playing Frescoball.. One guy was knocked unconcious and the aftermath of girls crying, police and lifesavers was large. I met someone (a Brasilian) who was kidnapped at the Friday night street party in Lapa, taken for a drive then dropped off. Could be anyone, just remember that there are thousands of people there. On Monday, Matt, Tom and I climed the Sugarloaf instead of taking the cable car (not for the fainthearted). After walking for about 200m around the forested point, it was hard to recall that you were in a city of 11 million people - the silence was deafening. Monkeys played politely next to the path and lovers kissed in the middle of it. Matt was the only one of us who had climbed the mountain before (750m height) and he swore he would never do it again.. I“m not adverse to a little rock climbing (about 15m of a 12 aussie rock climbing standard) if only the consequences of falling (a total of about 400m) was not so large.. Fortunately we caught up with a group with a rope and harness over the tough part and although no-one slipped, it was good to have back-up. The sun was setting when we arrived at the top and the view of the favelas as they lit their room-lights on the mountains was spectacular. I feel I can comment a little on the Favelas at the request of a reader. I am upset with the lack of public interest in the problems in the Favelas from people outside them. The army or crack police could stop the violence inside the favelas if the authorities weren“t making so much money from the King-pins who ruled them. The King-pins make money from drugs, stealing electricity and scams such as pirated CDs and are protected by groups of young guys with no other opportunites and children who fly kites when police are coming. The drug dealers are about 12 years old, have no fear of death and think gun fights and free lollies are cool. How do you fight that? Some say that Rio is depicted as a hive of drugs because of O Globo, the Brasilian media monopoly, whose director has a grudge against Rio“s government. After a power-nap we go to the local horse races where the horse we bet on with good odds (2.5 to 1) comes last bearing a disinterested jockey. How does that work? We“ve never seen such obvious corruption - or is it simply that the horse didn“t race.. hmm. We then head to the Ballroom in Botofogo to see some famous singers from the north including Fernando Porte perform - Brasilians just love to have fun, and this music is made for it. Leaving Rio is very very hard. So many offers of things to do from friends! I decide to head up to Macaé again where I have dinner with Maureen, Paul“s wife. Unfortunately my burgeoning Portuguese skills had failed to convey that LuBao would be waiting in Rio dos Ostres not Macae! Over a beer we find that stroking the street cats is pleasant until you look at the colour of you hand! Vendors are becoming bolder, walking into cafes to pester patrons. We find another good bar for a beer only to hear a roar announcing the approach of a pick-up with a 2-stroke engine on the back spraying mosquito killer through the streets. The waitress manages to spare us the first pass of God-knows-what, but not the second helping. God bless Dengue. I“m getting a little religious - must be contagious. Maureen also sparked a voyeur“s interest in religion for me.. After pizza she dropped me down to Rio dos Ostres where I stayed with LuBćo, his mother and brother, their 3 canaries, 3 turtles, 3 terriors and their precocious blackbird.. I haven“t slept soo well for ages. Now its off to Teresopolis (still with LuBćo and his brother LuBinha) to climb Pedro do Sino again - if we make it past the crazy cyclists, overturned water trucks and suicidal pedestrians on the highway..
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