When one hears the country of Brasil mentioned, almost always they will automatically think of Rio.  It is the postcard image of the country, full of those “Women from Ipanema”, the stereotypical carnaval, and unfortunately a massive amount of poverty and corruption.  I spent the last 4 days there and unfortunately saw the best and worst sides of the city.

We arrived in Rio after about a 7-hour bus ride at 3 in the afternoon on Saturday.  It was a beautiful day, about 78 degrees, and the skies were as clear as ever.  The first thing on everyone’s mind was food, so the majority of us went straight to a restaurant.  The restaurant was a Portuguese/Carioca fusion and was absolutely fantastic.  The Carioca food is vastly different than Paulistano food; it is heavier, fried, and a bit more flavorful in general.  Consequently it is also much worse for you.

After the meal, we went for a walk on the beautiful Praia Ipanema (we were staying 1 block away).  The water was a bit cold and the waves were moderately strong.  Ipanema is known for it’s incredibly soft sand, beautiful women, and lovely views.  All 3 elements were present.

The sun eventually went away and we had come across this large mound of sand where 5 or 6 children were jumping of it.  Being the mature adults that we all are, we decided to join in on the “brincando” with them.  They knew immediately that we weren’t from around there, and began asking questions:

“Where are you from?” one of the kids asked.
“I’m a Paulistano, from the capital.” I responded, being the smartass that I am.
“Mentiroso!  Your accent is very strong. Are you American?”
“Yes I am. I’m from California.”

All of the children seemed to find this exciting and immediately mentioned Obama, and a slew of musicians and actors.

“Where do you guys live?” My friend Angela asked.
“Rocinha.” (the largest favela [slum] in the country).
“How do you like Brasil so far?” said one of the children.
“I absolutely love it, I never want to leave” I said.
“I hate it here.”
“Why?”

This spawned a long speech by one of the children.  He talked about how the Rocinha is a community of people working together to try and better their lives, but then the police invade and start fighting/destroying things.  This never allows the conditions of the favela to improve, and the kids are forced to commit petty crimes in order to bring money into the community.

I was incredibly surprised at how well spoken these kids (who couldn’t have been older than 10 or 11) were.  It was absolutely horrible to hear about how the police, people who should be on the city’s side, were just making problems worse.

That reminds me of another story.  A friend of a friend of mine (major pothead) was in Rio a few months and was looking to score some weed.  He asked around a bit, and was led into a favela to buy somewhere he was greeted by several children with guns.  They were only there for his protection while he made his transaction.  After he had finished, the same children that protected him robbed him later that day.

He still had his pot, so he went to smoke some on the beach to calm his nerves a bit (for good reason).  The cops ended up catching him and brought him back to their station.  When they arrived, the cops robbed him AGAIN and let him go free.  To be honest, I have no idea what they were able to take from him if he had already been robbed once.

Back to the story about the children, after we finished our conversation with them we began walking away. One of the children said to Zoe “Dá me sua bolsa” and she didn’t understand what it meant, so she smiled and walked away.  It translates as “give me your purse”.

So now I’ve explained the bad side of Rio, now there’s the postcard version.

More photos in the Flickr Set.

It had to be one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been in my life, even more so than Florianópolis. The last day was rather rainy and unfortunate so we stayed inside for most of the time.  When we saw a break in the rain, we walked about 3 blocks to get a bit of lunch. Afterwards, it began pissing rain again while we walked to the hotel and this is the aftermath.

Sans the problems that the city has, I still really enjoyed the trip there.  I only wish that I had spent more time, but I think that a weekend trip shouldn’t be too difficult to manage. I didn’t get a chance to go to Biblioteca Nacional, which is one of the things that I was most excited for so I’ll end up doing that next time.

As I write this, I’m on a plane (no internet, will be posted subsequent to my arrival) to Buenos Aires, Argentina where I’ll be spending the next 9 days vagabonding around, tango dancing, sipping yerba maté or Mendoza malbecs, and perfecting my ultra-thin Porteño moustache.  Stories and pictures to follow when I return!

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