Rio de Janeiro: A Cidade Maravilhosa

After almost two weeks, my trip is over and I feel so much about it! This entry is going to be a little more loose than my last few, especially after a couple late nights in Rio to cap things off has my brain feeling soggy/foggy. I will marinate a little bit more on the trip as a whole before dishing out major thoughts, lessons, and reflections; this is more of my public-facing journal without a thesis.

I dropped my supposedly waterproof camera in the ocean briefly in Paraty, so all the pictures from Rio are cell phone pictures in their unedited glory.

Road Trip & Rio de Janeiro Day 1

I left the cute cabin in Paraty to board a full bus headed towards Rio, a 5-ish hour journey headed east.

The route reminded me a lot of heading south on the coastal highway 101 in Oregon, with the mountains on the left and the ocean on the right. Soundtracking the journey were a few albums, but the one that impacted me the most was listening to Acabou Chorare by Novos Baianos. It was released in 1972 and was one of the first albums to blend traditional Brazilian music genres with a rock and roll energy. Essentially a bunch of hippies lived in a commune, made their own instruments, and were mentored by Brazilian music legend, João Gilberto. The whole background of the album is an interesting read, and it was a cool way to learn more about the history of the country through the lens of popular culture.

The beautiful pastoral scenery of towering palms, lakes surrounded by hovering birds, and rolling hills were then replaced by the grittiness of the Rio de Janeiro outskirts. I learned more about myself on this trip: transitions from one city to another are hard for me. So, I mentally prepared myself for the immersion back into a big city of 6.2 million people. I was told by multiple people that Rio is beautiful beyond words, but it is not always easy.

I was birthed from the serenity of the bus into another gigantic bus station, the area to get picked up by taxis and Ubers felt like catching a ride after a major sporting event. Traffic jams were everywhere, and the sound of the constant horn honking of motorcyclists filtering through traffic lanes will not be missed by me.

My place for the next four nights was in Impanema, a cute boho chic apartment that felt very 2015.

I got out of the Uber and into the world and TV interviews were being filming outside the bar next to my bulding. Quite the shift from peaceful Paraty!! The doorman gave me the key and I took my customary arrival nap. Once again, I was blessed with a phenomenal sunset on my first night in a new city. It stopped feeling coincidental at that point and started feeling magical.

That night, I had amazing grilled octopus from a Peruvian restaurant and stopped by both a department store and a camera shop to try to figure out if my camera was truly bricked. It was. Walking around, I was surprised to find myself outpaced on the sidewalks of Rio, it's unusual for people to walk faster than me.

Despite being delicious, dinner felt lonely and long and the decision fatigue was setting in by this point. I was craving company at this point and also the ability to turn my brain off. I'm a very observant person so existing in a city can be draining for me. I got some good people watching in while eating at the sidewalk table during dinner though. Being so close to the beach impacted the fashion choices, and it felt like the equivalent of Los Angeles as compared to São Paulo being more like NYC in terms of streetwear. Shirtless men and bikini clad women were plentiful. My favorite season for fashion is Northern Hemisphere Fall, so Rio felt a little bit too casual for my personal taste. More power to those who want to flaunt it though. While we're on the topic of fashion, Id like to add that flip flops are the official/unofficial shoe choice of Brazil.

Rio De Janeiro Day 2

I woke up at 6am to get ready for a bike tour that would begin in a neighborhood 40 minutes away by car. I found this tour the same way I did the kayak trip in Paraty, through Airbnb experiences. I've had mostly good outcomes through this in both Spain and Brazil. They are often led by locals who are truly passionate and it usually feels more like hanging out with new friends than going on a stale tour. 

I arrived at the apartment of the host, Amadeu, at the same time as the other two tourists. They were some massive rugby playing blokes from Bristol (UK) and we yapped in the garage while Amadeu got the bicycles ready. The days journey was to be around 30 miles (50km) total and we began with a long, grueling climb to one of the highest points in the city. 

I could hear one of the two Brits behind me puffing and cursing while the sweat dripped down my forehead. At our first stop for water, he (Ian) said he was expecting a casual city tour with stops for drinks and not a climb up a mountain. Apparently his friend who booked it, TJ,  did not read the description and did not set expectations. I could never! We climbed and climbed in the highest gear we could, making our first stop after 1200 feet (365 meters) at Tijuca Forest National Park. Think an urban green space like Forest Park in Portland, but even bigger and filled with more cool animals like monkeys, agoutis, and OPOSSUMS.

We got some history of the park: it was a reforestation effort (like Forest Park!) after the emperor of Brazil noticed that coffee farming was destroying the landscape in the 1800s. Amadeu also shared some personal history of how he would bike it as a kid decades ago. Cute.

We snapped some pics at Taunay Waterfall, learned about a beautiful building nearby that was a painter's residence hundreds of years ago, and marveled at massive monsteras and a blue morpho butterfly that made an appearance above the wading pool of the waterfall. This area was used by the upper class centuries ago to escape the heat of the lower elevation.

We made a stop shortly after for breakfast at a gas station known for being the bikers hangout. Over coffees, croissants, and Gatorade, we chatted politics and drug legality in our respective countries. Ian and TJ mentioned going on a favela tour in Rio and currently I'm not sure how I feel about that being a popular thing to do for tourists to Rio.

Favelas are neighborhoods that typically formed due to the country’s governmental neglect. 25% of Rio’s residents live within them, and many favelas have modern amenities like electricity, running water, and internet access. The houses are built by residents, and honestly have aspects that are admired in U.S. modern urbanism such as walkability, community-oriented planning, and mixed-use buildings instead of separation into commercial and residential.

Favela has no direct translation in English, and is commonly associated with the word slum, which is not entirely accurate. After learning more about the history and context of favelas online, to go on a tour of one feels a bit like poverty tourism to me, even if the money does to back to schools or community centers.

Can you imagine foreign people going on guided tours of the main homeless encampments in Portland? Or the dilapidated trailer homes in the backroads of rural East Texas? Wouldn't that feel icky? 

We headed off on our next and final climb, to the Emperor’s Table, 1600 feet (487 meters) above sea level. I was astounded by the view, and in my limited perspective, I honestly believe Rio to be the most scenic city I've ever laid eyes on. A short coast down the hill to Vista Chinesa offered a similar vantage but more crowded with fellow tourists. 

From here the downhill jam was on, and I listened to Un día by Juana Molina while careening around hairpin curves, using speed bumps as ramps on my mountain bike, and dodging clueless pedestrians.

This made me want to get into mountain biking! On actual trails! The adrenaline rush of the speed and sense of danger combined to get me into that priceless flow state where nothing exists but each individual second. Speaking of priceless, I want to mention the price of this 7 hour journey was only $15 USD (+ $25 if you needed to rent a bike). What a value when you're getting a personal tour of Rio from a local Carioca. As I mentioned in my Friday Night Ride blog post, I really believe biking is the optimal way to see a city and I want to prioritize doing more tours like this in the future when I travel. 

We came back into the city and biked around an urban oasis, the Rodrigo de Freitas Lagoon. From there we rolled down the famous Impanema and Copacabana beachfronts. We learned about the subcultures of the different beaches: where people watched sunsets or had lovefests on New Year’s Eve, where the best waves were, and where the best spot to find a boyfriend was. 

The day was quite hot, but we pedaled along at a comfortable pace. We saw Vermelha Beach at the foot of Pão de Açúcar, Botafogo, the Museum of Tomorrow (designed by Santiago Calatrava, the same architect who designed the Milwaukee Art Museum), Candelária Church, the Olympic Games waterfront plaza that in 2016 revitalized a former interstate into an area for pedestrians, and then… Ian had to tap out after 30 miles due to his legs cramping up.

Amadeu was so rad here, and figured out a plan quickly. He dropped the bike off at a local hardware store (displaying Brazilians cultural tendency for empathy), and had Ian take an Uber back to the apartment while the three of us finished the last 5 miles. I was honestly impressed by both Ian and TJ to bike that climb and that long, with basically no experience. They did ask me at the first stop if my legs were also on fire and I was proud to say that the hills of Portland helped prepare me. Amadeu described me with a Brazilian phrase that roughly translates to “Filet Mignon”, or a lean person that has nothing extra on them.

We continued on sans Ian and saw the National Museum of Brazil (currently being rebuilt after a fire in 2018) at Quinta do Boa Vista, and the Maracanã stadium, site of the 1950 FIFA World Cup where Brazil lost to Uruguay in front of 200,000 people. We finally arrived back at Amadeu’s in the late afternoon and he invited us in for water and to meet his two girls, a couple of  tiny white dogs who were mom and daughter with Japanese names that I've since forgotten. 

Amadeu and I exchanged contact info and Strava profiles and I got a ride home, feeling that sense of post workout serenity again. It is bittersweet to be a manic pixie dream dog who needs to be exercised to be content. After burning 2000 calories, I grabbed a cornucopia of mismatched snacks from the grocery store and forced myself to stay up late, knowing I would be out late the next day. 

Rio de Janeiro Days 3, 4, and 5

This was the day! The last planned experience for Brazil for me, the Champion’s Parade of Carnaval. I was able to get a crash course from a local during the event later that night, and from what I can remember: the Champion’s Parade can best be summed up as a victory lap for the top Samba schools of Rio each year. Samba schools started in Rio in 1928 and are a way for the students to connect with their cultural past, provide creative outlets and job opportunities, and foster local & national pride by introducing a neighborhood to the entire world.

Each year has a different theme and the schools are judged on their ability to complete their performance down the “runway” within 80 minutes, the choreography and performance of the music that is written each year, and the creativity of the floats and outfits. 

I'm getting ahead of myself here though! Earlier in the day I visited the Museum de Arte do Rio (or MAR) and saw a few exhibits.

First up was “Funk: A cry of boldness and freedom”. This exhibit was a dream for a music-lover like me. It was essentially a collection of art and artifacts that showcased the cultural diffusion of funk music from James Brown in America, to Baile-Funk’s current-day uplift of Black communities in Rio.

There was a display on the wall of record sleeves and I got really emotional here, seeing all the artists and albums that I recognized that have soundtracked my life in various moments. How beautiful it is to find a genre of music that makes you feel like your most authentic self when you move to it.

I was only vaguely familiar with Baile-Funk before, but am now a fan! Unfortunately, Portland will not be the place for me to explore the genre more.

The next 3 floors contained exhibits from a few Brasileiros: Brigida Baltar, Elisa Martins Da Silveira, and Primo de Cruz. I didn’t emotionally connect with the art in these galleries, but I do appreciate being able to learn more about a cultura by visiting a local museum.

The last exhibit on the first floor was Atlântico Floresta: a celebration of Afro-Brazilian cultures and a recognition of their relationship with the Amazon Rainforest and the Atlantic Ocean. I got teary-eyed in this exhibit, viewing a painting that depicted the violent arrival of the Portuguese into the Amazon in the 1500s. Maybe it was the white guilt, or maybe it was an acknowledgement of how much we continue to diverge in the present day from the systems of society that are the way we should really be. We are still animals. We are meant to live in close-knit communities, look out for each other and our environments, and we are meant to create and celebrate, not consume and exhume.

I left the museum to go sit by the water to decompress from the emotional journey inside the museum, and then went back to the apartment to drop my things off and have a much yummier pizza while a big soccer game played between Brazilian clubs on TV. Yells erupted from open apartment windows and the patio bars around when a team would score. 

It was on to the metro and everything that happened from here until the end of my trip felt like a fever dream///movie///blur. So I'm going to present it in little blips and clips:

~The sand and glitter intermingling on the stairs of the metro

~Leaving the station along with everyone else headed to the parade, the excitement palpable 

~The sensory overload of smells, sights, sounds on the walk to the stadium 

~Being in awe of seeing 80,000 people lit up in the bright red glow of magnificent fireworks

~The bateria starting, the stadium singing together as I scooted closer to people I heard speaking English 

~Asking for a cigarette, asking for a name, receiving both and also an exhilarating smooch from a French Canadian named Laurence and joining her and her friends for the night

~The larger than life floats showcasing the history of Brazil while thousands of costumed dancers strutted their stuff

~Tearing up from witnessing the sheer joy and pride the locals were displaying 

~Sharing my journey from a difficult childhood to being in Rio de Janeiro for the biggest celebration of life on Earth

~Realizing I had been there from 9pm-3am and there still being 3 hours to go (I didn't make it to the end)

~Joining my new friends for a bloco the next day in the streets of Copacabana Beach, where a band played for a small crowd (one we didn't originally plan to go to, but switched to after we all slept in)

~CRYING at seeing the beauty of humanity, strangers singing to each other and hyping each other up, knowing that is a valuable trait of mine

~Doing a samba line with more new friends and looking like silly gringos, but putting a smile on people's faces in the crowd

~The performance turning into a parade!!

~BAWLING my eyes out with gratitude, knowing I wouldn't be there experiencing that if my depression had won some of the hardest battles I've faced against it

~Forming deeper connections walking down the Copacabana sidewalk at sunset

~Stopping at a restaurant with a live band and no open tables, but making our own place to eat and drink with two blankets in the sand

~Getting into deep conversations with a fellow writer in the group, Joanna, about our struggles of anxiety, only to witness her strength right after! She joined the band on “stage” after they saw her dancing and pulled her and others up to electrify the crowd 

~A few of us standing in the ocean up to our shins like grandmas while we talked about Ru Paul's Drag Race, and other reality TV shows

~Joining yet another conga line through the crowd and on the “stage”, and feeling my own anxiety lose another battle 

~Giving the longest hug to someone who said they never receive them anymore

~Crying when someone I had known for 24 hours described me as “the incarnation of a safe space”

~Once again, crying, when someone asked what I've learned about myself through the journey of quitting alcohol, and realizing how much I've grown in the last three years 

~Splitting off with three others to head to a club and relishing my roles as the sober mom of the group, and also the only one who could manage a very very basic level of Portuguese 

~Ending up in Rio’s equivalent of Beverly Hills with sweat in my hair, and sequins and glitter on my face (and feeling great about it)

~Feeling inspired by the funk exhibit at the museum, and dancing my ass off for the next hour to end the night even if I felt out of place

~Feeling so much more confident in my Portuguese on my final day compared to my first day, while I had multiple coffees on a patio next to a surf shop

~Renting a bicycle to get to Pão de Açúcar and getting around without a GPS

~Hiking up a steep 700 feet and seeing marmosets in the forest while I was overwhelmed with gratitude once again

~Looking over the city from Urca Hill while enjoying ice cream in my last free moments in Brazil

As always, thanks for reading this. I usually journal while traveling, but it feels scary to have my journal public! I hope you've enjoyed taking things in through my eyes, learned something new, or were inspired to travel somewhere new as well. I'll be back soon with final thoughts on my minuscule and microscopic perspective of this giant, complex, beautiful country and what this trip meant for me personally. Going somewhere new mostly solo while not knowing the language and doing it sober is definitely a recipe for a little self-discovery.

Love, L