An Englishman, an American and an Isreali walk into a Police station...

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The flight over was pretty uneventful. However, during a pit-stop in Sao Paulo, we realised that the change of cabin crew presented an opportunity to sneak into Business Class whilst no-one was looking.  I guess old habits die hard eh!

Immediately upon arriving in Rio (Don't worry, we're not going to describe every detail of our trip) our bus drove past, what can only be described as hillside after hillside of slum housing made of bits of ramshackle wood and plates of tin.  We were expecting to see slums but to sheer scale of them were astounding and depressing in equal measure.  We later learnt that it1s estimated that over 3 million people live in these 'favelas'.

On our third day we was robbed (a bit like the Albion at Villa allegedly).  Some little chav from the hillsides sneaked up behind us and, whilst we were enjoying the views of Copacabana, swiped Charlotte's MP3 player from our bag without us even knowing.  So, after an hour of so deliberating over whether or not we had been robbed ('Did I bring it?'  'Didn't Í' etc) we decided to report it to the Tourist Police.  Being Tourist Police we hoped that they'd be able to speak even a little English (we're both making efforts to learn the language - one of us doing better than the other) but, unfortunately their English was limited to repeated, but perfect, pronunciation of "The book is on the table", apparently a classroom classic from their English lessons at school.

In fact, even with our passports in hand they had difficulty in understanding where we were from ("The Northern Island of which country?") however Kieren shouting 'David Beckham' worked a treat (they'd never heard of Stevie Bull).  If there's one way to break down barriers with Brazilians - it's football.  Suddenly our friends' vocabulary improved:  ´Brasil = Good'; 'Beckham = Good"; "Ronaldinho = Good", "Brasil = Best"; "England = Number 2" (I didn´t want to argue - they had guns).  And then "Flamengo or Vasco De Gama?".  If there´s one way to break down barriers with Brazilians - it's football.  To put it mildly we were relieved when the two men with guns ceased arguing about football and resumed normal police duties.  That's to say that normal police duties in Brazil is a bit of a doddle really (apart from being shot at no doubt).  The job seems to consist of running around in your clapped out car (no seatbelts, multiple dents and scratches, front seat wouldn't lock into position) with your Flamengo supporting mate, disobeying all traffic laws (red lights, use of sirens etc), with one eye on the road and one eye on the local women, or indeed, an opportunity to take the mickey out of someone.  As was the case with the long haired biker on a Harley whose built in speakers were playing so Bangra influenced trance music.  Our new friends stopped the car (and therefore the Harley) and proceeded to sing and dance, mock Bollywood style (K:  Imagine me after a few too many beers).  I guess the repercussions of Stephen Lawrence haven't made it across the Amazon yet.

We pulled into Ipanema Police Station (admittedly, not something you say every day) and the officers let us out of the back seat of the car with their guns drawn (we hoped just for show but feared not!) and made out our police report.  At which point we were joined by an Israeli couple followed by an American Couple.  The Americans were taking themselves far too seriously which convinced us to ignore them.  The Israelis however were polite and friendly but were lecturing ('You're only spending three weeks there? You should, be doing this/that etc').  Somehow we don't think these will be the last 'if you´ve done it - we´ve done one better' couple we'll meet.  Ah well, we'll let them get on with it!  Besides, we got a lift from the police - they didn't.  I bet that wasn't in their bleadin' guidebook!

Talking of which, when we came to say goodbye to our law enforcing amigos, CHarlotte (again) forgot what the word for 'thank you' was so insisted instead on giving him a sloppy kiss.  Despite being seriously annoyed at getting robbed, the policemen made the best out of a bad situation .  There's just one word of wisdom from the Israelis that were clinging onto:  'They say if your trip starts badly the rest will be perfect'.

With these words ringing in our ears we decided to brave the 'crime ridden subway', drink beer in the streets yards away from riot police and buy tickets from a soon to be arrested tout, to watch a game at the fabled Maracana stadium (capacity 125,000 - reduced from 250,000 for refurbishment). 

There isn´t a simpler way of describing the event that: 

Transport to the match:   £1.50

Tickets to Flamengo v Juventude at the Maracana (from the unarrested tout):   £1.35

Beer brought to your seat in the stadium:   £0.80

Atmosphere like this: 

Priceless (link to be added)

In the end Flamengo (our new team in Brazil) won 3-1 and the match passed without serious incident.  However, Charlotte (at her first ever match) called an offside at the opposite end - a call agreed by the linesman.  It's just a shame that the only person in the stadium to appreciate the word 'offside' was Kieren.  A season ticket in the Smethwick End awaits!

A few days later we climbed Sugarloaf Mountain (admittedly in a cable car) and witnessed a beautiful sunset (see photos).  There's not too much else to say apart from there were fantastic views and annoying Americans singing about Tennessee.  A great way to ruin a great view.

The supermarkets here are different:  Not much available apart from meat, cheese and cake (or variants including some or all of the above ingredients), statues of Mary and Jesus overlooking the cash machines and pale looking foreigners being told off for standing in the wrong queue (apparently there is a separate queue for OAPs).  We went to one shop where we had to queue once to get a hand written order/receipt, queue a second time to actually pay for the item and then a third time to collect the item that you originally handed over to the first person.  I can only guess the proprietor is a communist.  On another morning, Kieren, upon being first into the fruit supermarket (honestly!), was clapped and cheered by all the staff.  He took it in good grace, signed a few autographs and then left feeling just a tad confused.  As our Portuguese is very limited we still haven't got to the bottom of this!

A week or so into our trip we explored the Botanical Gardens.  Amongst the flora and the fauna there were palm trees at least 50 times taller than us, lily pads you could sit on, turtles willing to pose for the camera and hungry little monkeys (see photos).  And all this on the doorstep of Sugarloaf Mountain, the beaches of Ipanema and Copacabana and the statue of Christ which overlooks the vibrant city.

Our own trip to the statue that towers above Rio didn't exactly come straight out of the guidebooks.  Our landlady suggested that it was more than possible to walk through the jungle and rainforest to the peak of Mt Corcovado (and therefore the foot of Christ).  We thought it would be some smart preparation for the Inca Trail which we were due to tackle in a couple of weeks time.  The fact that Corcovado is twice the height of Sugarloaf Mountain (in fact, when we were at the top of Sugarloaf, Corcovado had - apart from the statue at the top - been completely shrouded in cloud) wasn't going to be enough to stop us, neither (genuinely) were the, at times, 60 degree inclines we scrambled up or indeed the signposts proclaiming 'Risco Fatal'.  Regrettably, the overgrowth became too thick and we were seriously concerned that we wouldn't be able to find our way back out of the Tijuca rain forest so, disappointed we turned back.  Thankfully, Kieren used the navigational skills he picked up in the Girl Guides and followed the water downstream away from the snakes and the monkeys to the outskirts of the forest.  Time for the conventional route!

A quick taxi ride followed by a train journey presented us with a statue that wasn't as big as we expected but some fantastic views.  A postcard may have been cheaper but nowhere near as much fun.

What was cheap and fun however was taking the only remaining tram in Rio from Lapa to Santa Theresa.  As there was a partial strike by the operators of the service the shuttles only started to run during rush hour (perhaps they should talk to there comrades at the airports and London Underground about their tactics) however, it was worth the wait.  At first the tram looked too busy to board however we both squeezed on standing directly behind the two drivers (one for gears - the other for steering and collecting fares) who started the engine with what looked like a lit match put to gunpowder.  In fact, as we boarded the tram it was barely at half capacity!  The locals were told to cling to the outside of the tram as we screeched around 90 degree bends and a viaduct suspended around 150 feet in the air with a sheer drop either side (ie.  if you lost your grip you hit the concrete 150 ft below).  Unfortunately we missed out on this and had to settle for seats.  Until on the return leg, Charlotte braved a spot amongst the locals who jumped on and off the tram (except from over the viaduct) as though they'd done it from the day they were born - just to avoid the 15p fare!

The following day we set sail on the Ilha da Pacqueta ferry from Rio.  During the crossing we befriended (or were we befriended by?) a helpful, if unusual looking, local by the name of René, a Japanese-Brazilian with a French name who is an American citizen.  He was only too happy to practice his English (he can speak 6 languages in total) whilst at the same time giving us an insight into Brazilian life during the 90 minute trip.  Pacqueta Island is a peaceful place which enjoys a total lack of cars (with the exception of one police car and one ambulance).  To get around the dirt track roads, the islanders rely on either bicycles or horse drawn carriages (see photos).  In fact, as we stepped off the ferry we were greeted with cries of 'Taxi! Taxi!' yet instead of seeing a mass of yellow cars we were met by a row of a dozen or so horse drawn carts.  However, we acted upon René's advice and hired bikes for the two hours or so it took to cover the island (and stop for a beer at sunset).

As we come to the end of our time in Rio we've realised that we'll be sad to leave.  Yeah, the city has its faults - the high levels of crime (we had 3 additional and specific warnings from concerned locals), the annoying vendors on Copacabana beach (other areas were fine) and an anal landlady (instructions were left everywhere for even the most menial of tasks; weekly linen inspections where she would hold our linen up to the light to check for stains etc).  However these things simply cannot detract from the fact that Rio is a buzzing city with some of the best landscapes, views and beaches in the world (we're told).  Couple that with genuinely friendly and helpful people (even after being here for such a short time numerous locals - ok bar owners and street kebab sellers - recognise us and go out of there way to say hello) and you have a truly great city.  We'll miss the place!

Next stop:  Peru and the Inca Trail!