There are six million Carioca's (the term for people that live in Rio) and another five million live in the surrounding suburbs. Most of the population are poor, but a good many others are rich. The five star hotels and luxury apartments are never very far from the favelas: the famous slums that climb up the sides of steep mountains in cell-size blocks of broken tiles and corrugated tin. Most of the residents of the favelas are hard working and law-abiding despite their reputation for drugs and lawlessness. The vast difference between rich and poor is played out in the city's landscape. There are two jungles here: the concrete and the green variety, and they are in a constant state of heave and swell. But the city and the jungle, the rich and the poor all have one thing in common. They all make their way down to those amazing beaches where the huge stretches of sand and the blue waters of the Atlantic make everything come together perfectly...as if in a song.  

 

We arrived in Rio a few days before Christmas at the start of the summer season. Adding to all the visual mismatches were dozens of decorated Christmas trees and blow up Santas straining in the ninety degree heat. Our hotel faced Copacabana beach which stretches out in an enormous half moon crescent with the Sugar Loaf monolith at one end. At the other end were the glamorous white sands of Ipanema, where the rich and famous come to meet the tall and tan and young and lovely.

 

We checked in at midnight, which was the perfect time to go out on the town and witness the sexy-samba-steaminess of Rio's famous night life. Like the city and the jungle, the Brazilians are a stunning mix themselves. Mostly everyone is some shade of mulatto. Blond Afros and green eyes are plentiful. These people are accustomed to the heat of their jungle-city and wear more jewelry than clothes on their fit tanned bodies. Brazilians are confidently sexy, and they are not afraid to show it off. I read that Brazilians sexually mature earlier than any other people on the planet, with nearly ten years difference between them and the Norwegians (the late bloomers of humanity).

 

Even after the long flight we managed to stay out until 4:00am soaking it all in and getting into the mood of the city, which could not be more different than London. In the morning it was time to discover the sights, and we began with a train ride that took us up through the jungle to the top of Corcovado mountain, and the most famous symbol of Rio. The statue of Christ the Redeemer is 125 feet tall and stands there, head bowed - arms open, forgiving the city for its multitude of sins. Corcovado is the highest point in Rio, and pictures can not do justice to the 360 degree views of this marvellous city. 

From there we made our way via a crazed taxi driver to the second most recognisable spot: The huge double humps of the Sugar Loaf monolith. A cable car whisks seventy five  people at a time up to the first perch, and then another takes you to the summit which is almost a thousand feet above the pink sand beach below. While we were on Sugar loaf an immense tropical storm blew in that sent the sea eagles careening and the bamboo and banana trees bent at forty five degree angles, with their parasitical orchids nearly touching the ground. The warm, fierce rain passed us by in just twenty minutes, and we watched it roll over the city and up to the Christ for forgiveness, before it disappeared into the mountains and rain forest beyond.

Back on terra firma, we took another psychotic taxi that zig zagged through the streets and sidewalks at about 100 mph. I thanked Christ when we reached our hotel, and took a long relaxing swim in the roof-top pool. Then later it was out for more bars and bossa nova until the wee hours.

The next day was very hot and sunny and we decided to make it a beach day, along with every other Carioca. We first walked the length of Copacabana, which takes over an hour at a fair clip. I was made well aware of my Gringo status, as every one of the hundreds of beach hawkers tried to sell me sun hats, glasses, bikinis, sarongs, beach chairs, beers, pineapples and jewelry as we walked along the promenade. Curiously, they left Freddie alone...and he can speak Portuguese! When it was time to settle in a spot for the day, we chose lifeguard tower number nine on Ipanema Beach. A young dark skinned girl with a wide smile and a tiny bikini escorted us to a place on the sand with two beach chairs and an umbrella. She explained (in Portuguese) that she would be our hostess, and she brought us cold beers, shrimp skewers and iced coconut water regularly through out the day. She chatted with Freddie and told him that she was sixteen years old, and that she lived up in one of the nearby favelas. She worked on the beach for twelve hours a day and then went up to the little bar that her mother runs to work another four hours into the night. She does this seven days a week through the summer months so she can study during the school term. Despite her difficult life, she was one of the sweetest, happiest people I have ever met. We could all learn something from this sweet sixteen year old. Of course I tipped her more than double the modest sum of our bill, which is the right thing to do for hard working people in a developing country.

After a few beers the mood on the beach became more and more social and it wasn't long before we had a gaggle of new buddies around us. Along with some locals, we met Eddie from Chicago and Josh from New York, who were great fun. We spent the rest of the day laughing and drinking in the bright white sun with our new found friends. We had to be at the airport at 9:00pm that evening. The only thing that made leaving Rio tolerable was knowing that this was just day three of our three week holiday in South America. Yes, there is more to come....