First days in Rio June 5th to June 10th 2015
Here I am eyes wide on the sand and clear water of Ipanema beach. Actually it is really Arpoador next door, just a short stroll to the rock which forms the break with the four kilometres of Copacabana beach to the east. The location is more than exceptional in that there is no road between the window and the beach and that means you hear nothing but the pure sound of the sea with the occasional burst of voices from the beach bodies and swimmers below. We are five floors up and have the best of views from this small inn. To the west are the Morro dois Irmaos framing the beaches of Leblon, Ipanema and Arpoador and from the slopes of which the inhabitants of the Vidigal favela have exceptional views. Inland from the beach are the cafes, shops and residential blocks of the best of Rio living. Side by side the rich and poor of Rio live, work and play and yet often in separate social circles.
We have been exploring the streets of Ipanema on foot taking care to display no watches or wallets and with only enough cash to get by. I found I had no heels to wear and so a first Rio shopping encounter was necessary. Apart from finding nice coffee at 'Cafeina', we were introduced to Rio style food by Fabrizio and Caroline who took us to a cafe serving the traditional Saturday dish of Fejoada which is black beans, pork, rice and orange washed down with Caiparihna, a drink made with powerful cachaca alcohol. We tried filet Mignon at another cafe last night and found it tasty but rather salty.
Our first venture beyond the Ipanema area was to take the ferry on Sunday from Centro to Niteroi, once considered to be the city with the best quality life around Guanabara Bay and also the regional capital of the Rio district. We saw the Museum of Contemporary Art designed by Oscar Niemeyer and now undergoing a complete internal refurbishment. Because Caroline Menezes our host and a curator of exhibitions at the gallery and in Brasilia, had persuasive influence, we found ourselves being given a tour by the gallery administrator Clara. A space for art and with such visual connection to the bay and the islands, the building sits on a promontory overlooking the waters and could be seen from the heights of Pao de Acucar (Sugarloaf mountain) and Corcovado mountain which we were to discover the next day. That afternoon we were driven by Caroline's father Paul, a former naval doctor, up a narrow road congested on all sides, to the heights of a mountain from which crowds viewed the sunset over Guanabara bay towards the city of Rio itself. When the sun set with a spectacular finish leaving everything a deep russet colour, the crowd burst into applause.
The tour yesterday took in the famous Christ the Redeemer on top of Corcovado mountain and the cable car up to Pao de Acucar. Both sights sit within Brazilian tropical rain forests and there is a long history of degradation and environmental vandalism of both. The Tijuca forest was once taken over by coffee farming until water shortages and environmental concerns were undeniable. There is a history here of forward thinking by key individuals that led to the formation of the national park of Tijuca but which the lonely planet guide hardly acknowledges so preoccupied are the writers by the tourist attractions and the eat, play and drink focus of mass travelling. Driving through the streets of Santa Teresa we had no idea at the time thanks to our taciturn guide, that this was a district with a formidable history where artists and other interesting people settled: not exactly a fine representative of Britain but Ronnie Biggs, for example lived there made a family life and became fluent in Portuguese as well as a consummate performer of the best of Rio slang on local TV. I am learning much from a re reading of Ruy Castro's book on Rio de Janeiro which is a must for first timers in this extraordinary city. The cariocas, as the locals are called, have a spirit ' jeijo' all their own and if you come to live and adopt that spirit of joyful engagement with life then you too can become a 'carioca'.
The sea from the window last night become more vigorous than previously, turning from clear leisurely rolling waves to long curls of white foam slamming the sand into raised planks of stripe formations and edging more closely to the shoreline. There is not much variation in the tides of this Atlantic coastline and while the beach is very long stretching all the way from Posto 7 to 12, the width is narrow enough to compress the public into tightly defined areas. The 'posts' are life guard stations that house toilets as well as watchers on the beach and provide useful markers for setting your walking goals for that essential morning constitutional. Everyday before breakfast we join the locals taking the air and loosening up those sleepy bodies before showering ready for work or more play if you are one of the lucky ones.
The beach is the playground open to the public at no cost other than refreshments available on the route. 5 reias for a fresh coconut drink or a little more for a suco de laranje. Fresh fruit is everywhere and juice bars abound so there is no excuse for not eating well. On Sunday the road from Leblon to Copacabana closes to traffic and everyone comes out to enjoy the freedom. People run on the beach and there are fitness classes from 6.30 am onwards. Here those who frequent the beach area do much more than lie on towels and occasionally take a dip in the ocean. Boys with sharp hair cuts head footballs around in groups, long limbed brown girls play volleyball with unexpected seriousness, dog walkers parade troops of Highland terriers and dachshunds along the promenade and everyone wears trainers to beat the slippery surfaces of the mosaic surface on the front. And the world passes by, a multi coloured humanity dressed in every form of attire imaginable.
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