RIO DE JANEIRO

Back on the road again. It feels good to be back down to just a backpack. Our English summer has been brilliant, but it's time for another adventure.

After a pretty smooth flight and a day of sleep we finally felt ready to tackle Rio. Whilst volunteering at the Olympics Helen had become quite the linguist and was chatting and laughing with everyone she spoke to. It was pretty amazing what she had learnt in 5 weeks. Unfortunately the rest of South America speaks Spanish and I hadn't kept up my side of the bargain of learning it, if this was the standard that was expected I was in trouble.

Escadaria Selaron and the yellow train
One of the first things we did was walk to Escadaria Selaron. A staircase from the neighbourhood of Lapa up to the cobbled hilltop enclave of Santa Teresa. Every last bit of the 215 steps, walls and ledges was covered in a mosaic of mis matching colourful tiles. Situated in the heart of Rio's samba district it's a vibrant expression of the city's creative and bohemian side. An artist called Selaron moved to the city in 1990 and lived in a house just off the stairway. What started as a whim became an obsession. Travellers soon gained interest and started bringing him tiles from all over the world to add to the stairs. Unfortunately in 2013 Selaron was found dead on his life's work.

We climbed the stairs to Santa Teresa's rustic lanes, home to crumbly 19th century mansions and lively art scene. As we wondered the winding streets little framed views of Rio would become visible down an ally or in between buildings. Whilst wondering the little streets we suddenly heard a loud rattling as an open sided yellow tram shook its way past. We had seen pictures of this yellow carriage in hand painted murals on some of the buildings. We instantly wanted to catch a ride.

After a coffee break in Cafecito, a pretty little place perched above the street in a cobbled garden, we followed the tracks in search of the yellow tram. We found the station in the main square and hopped in. The rickety thing jolted to life with a clank and a shudder and trundled off down the hill towards the city. The highlight of this journey came when we reached an aqueduct that grew out from the buildings on the hillside, over the main roads of Lapa, finishing by one of the weirdest cathedrals I have ever seen. It was like a modernist volcano that had erupted down town and was lying dormant. Finished in 1979 the building looked as though it was from an early sci-fi movie.

Niterói Contemporary Art Museum
One afternoon we left Rio and headed to Niterói. Although it's only a fifteen minute ferry across the Baia de Guanabara it is infact it's own city. On the ferry a middle aged chap deep into his iPhone noticed our bobbing heads as we tried to take in the view of Rio from the water. We had picked the wrong side of the ferry to sit, he smiled, stood up and offered us his window seat. Helen had mentioned how nice the people of Brazil had been when she was last here. Niterói is famed for its art gallery, we followed the headland round the coast until it appeared from the hillside. It was designed by the legendary Brazilian architect Oscar Niemeyer. It looked like a concrete thunderbird perched on the edge of Tracy island. If I'm honest the building far outshone the artwork inside. If anything the best thing to look at inside was the view outside as you hovered over the coastline. We quickly headed back outside to enjoy the outside.

Lagoa and Parque Lage
Hidden away in the lush tropical gardens of Parque Lage is a grand old mansion set round a vivid blue pool in its central courtyard. It now houses a small cafe and visual arts school and is oozing with character and class from a world now forgotten. I think H mentioned this place in her Olympic post so I won't go on too much. The back of the building stands at the foot of Corcovado Mountain which stands at the foot of Cristo Redentor. On a clear day he is visible peering down on the coffee drinkers and artists. Unfortunately the weather was still a bit cloudy so he graced us with his presence in between the passing clouds, I like to think he was scratching his nose in between sightings.

Just south of the gardens is the Rodrigo de Freitas Lagoon where the Olympic rowing took place. We moseyed on around the edge eventually finding our way to Ipanema beach. As the weather wasn't that grand and the revellers from the Olympics had left, the beach was fairly tranquil and quiet. We followed the iconic black and white tiles all the way along Ipanema and round to Copacabana. On the way we stopped off for the odd Chopp (small beer) overlooking the sands and watched a bunch of local surfers tearing up a point break. Annoyingly I hadn't bought my wetsuit top and board shorts out with me. Shit!

Cristo Redentor
We rose early this morning in the hope of getting a clear window to visit Cristo. A brekkie rekkie had concluded that the clouds had dispersed and the sun was shining, we were on. To get to the top you take an old cog train that takes you up a ridiculously steep incline through lush tropical forest. Similarly to when Helen came up I was blown away. The view over the city was fantastic, clusters of buildings punctuated by large rocky outcrops. However the main event for me was Cristo. Built in 1931 he is the largest art deco statue in the world, standing at 30 meters tall. I loved how the sculptor Paul Landowski had really striped back the detail creating a simple yet iconic representation of Christ. Which whilst representing the cross from afar, he also looks like he wants a hug.

Just up from christ's railway station is Largo do Boticario. A cluster of weathered and peeling buildings that have spent far too long out in the sun. There is something very charming and captivating about their current state.

Surfing Ipanema
What better way to kick of this new Hills and Waves adventure by catching a few rides under the watchful eyes of Cristo, surrounded by the jagged skyline of Rio's mountains and underlined by Ipanema's iconic tiles. The waves were not as good as the day before but they were quiet, which was good as I was feeling a bit rusty. I surfed the point at the top of Ipanema called Praia do Arpoador. The wind wasn't on my side so after an hour or so I nipped round the point and found a much heavier, crowded wave hiding from the wind. It was good to be back on a board, I've seen this view many times on postcards and the telly but never thought I'd be bobbing about in the middle of it.

Helen mentioned that many folk head to the rocks at Pedra do Arpoador to watch the sun set behind the Dois Irmaos (The Two Brothers) mountains. We grabbed a couple of Cerveja's from a man with an ice bucket and watched night roll in.

Helen vs Pão de Açúcar (Sugarloaf Mountain)
With waves in the bag we needed some hills. Helen had been researching climbing routes up Rio's iconic Pão de Açúcar. She found a local climber called Flávio from Companhia da Escalada climbing school who would lead-climb with her. They climbed the Coringa route, a 5+ multi pitch route which meant they had to climb it in three stages. The climb was 100m, overlooking Praia Vermelha and Copacabana, surrounded by ocean. After the climb they hiked up further, did one last easier 20m climb, and made it to the top via 'the philosophers stone'. The whole ascent took 4 hours and was pretty technical with a lot of smearing on the granite surface and tiny hand holds.

Having decided on our last adventure that climbing wasn't for me, I headed back to Ipanema to surf and agreed to meet Helen at the top at sunset via cable car. The surf was a lot busier today and being the weekend quite aggressive, however I did talk to a friendly Brazilian called Gabriel who warned me to not get in the way of the locals. We chatted for a while, caught a few nice ones then I bid farewell to catch a cable car to see if Helen had summited the Sugarloaf.

The view from the top was incredible, on one side you could see the city of Niterói with Oscar Niemeyer's spaceship set to take off. The other side looked over the ocean and beaches of Rio and the harbour. Every now and then Cristo would peep out from behind a cloud looking very holy indeed. Just as the sun was setting Helen and Flávio appeared behind me. She was stoked yet exhausted. The climb had taken four hours, but what a great thing to have achieved. She literally climbed the Olympic logo and one of Rio's most famous sights. We celebrated with a couple of caipirinha's overlooking the city before heading down to Botafogo.

We did a little more celebrating at a place called Winehouse in Botafogo. It's a lively little place tucked away down a side street, serving excellent Brazilian wines and charcuterie. The walk there turned a tad sketchy when some nutter stopped in front of us, with a face full of anger, then as we scooted past, he started running his mouth off in Portuguese and threw a bottle of water at us. Helen reckons it was because he clocked we were Gringos (tourists) I reckon it was because he was a nutter. Either way the large wine and relaxing jazz music calmed our nerves and restored our celebratory atmosphere. Hills... Tick, Waves...Tick.

Praca Sao Salvador (Salvador Square) & Santa Teresa
Sunday in Brazil could be mistaken for a Friday night. We rolled out of bed late and after a slow breakfast went for a stroll. The streets were lively and everyone seemed to be out and about. We walked to Praca Sao Salvador (Salvador Square) drawn in by traditional Samba music we could hear reverberating around the nearby streets. When we arrived it looked like the whole neighbourhood was there. There were food stalls, makeshift bars and in the centre a big crowd had gathered. This was where the music was coming from and when we drew near, we saw a circle of ten to fifteen musicians giving it their all. People would appear with instruments and join in, welcomed by knowing nods and smiles from the other players. We bought a couple of cold ones and happily watched this little slice of Rio life. A bent over old man and an equally crooked old lady shuffled hand in hand into view. Their combined age must have been close to two hundred. They were met with many friendly smiles as they sambaed along to the music.

We bought Feijoada com arroz (a traditional dish of bean stew with rice) from a little stall and continued to take in the scene. For pudding we bought a couple of Pastel de belems (Portuguese tarts) and got talking to a lady called Elesia. Born in Portugal she had a passion for keeping Portuguese traditions alive in Rio. She said after finishing her stall here she was hosting an event up in Santa Teresa where she and her friend would be serving Portuguese wine and writing poetry. They had called it Verso e Vino and it was part of a bigger arts festival happening across the neighborhood. As we had no plans for the afternoon we decided to head over.

Arts festival was a bit of an overstatement, there were a few touristy art shops and stalls knocking about but it was all a bit souveniry. Either way the streets were packed with young people drinking and having a good time. There was live music in many of the bars and on the streets, creating a music festival vibe. We explored the lively cobbled lanes, beer in hand and eventually sat down on the curb to watch the world go by. I wish Sundays at home were this alive.

Santa Marta Favela
Many of the favelas in the south of Rio have undergone a pacification program since 2008. This basically means the police go in and drive out the drug gangs in an attempt to create safer communities. The most famous favela and the first to be pacified was Santa Marta, clinging to the steep hillside behind Botafogo. Since it's pacification the government has built a train to make it easier for residents living at the top, added street lighting, improved sewage and water systems. A community arts project where residents can get their houses painted bright colours in an effort to improve the general look of the area has also made a big impact. So far it's been fairly successful as there has been no trouble since the gangs were removed in 2008, but as with everything, when you dig a little deeper, things aren't always what they seem.

We decided (after much deliberation) to go on a tour of the neighbourhood. Part of the money goes into community improvement schemes and the tour guides live locally and know the community well. Favelas have appeared in films like City of God and the ones in Rio are infamous world wide. However, the tide is slowly turning. Santa Marta is famous for Micheal Jackson filming his music video for 'They don't care about us'. Aside from the fame of the place, the buildings themselves are fascinating as they occupy land that it shouldn't be possible to build on. This means they sit on the steep hillsides, often with the best views in the city. We had been unsure about how we felt about visiting a favela. More out of respect for the residents than fear. Curiosity finally won over however our only issue was whether it would be disrespectful for us tourists to walk through looking at how the residents live their lives. We tackled this head on with our guide who said the residents are glad people are visiting, as it not only brings money and opportunities into the community, it also shows the world most of the residents are normal people with normal jobs in the city, not all caught up in gangs as the media would suggest.

We were a group of six and our guide Pedro was brilliant. He was so knowledgeable about the history of favelas, who came and why they started to develop, plus he seemed to know everyone we passed. He told us how the gangs used to provide for the residents and would even bring the children gifts and created a water system, but this was just pulling the wool over the eyes of the residents so they could continue their drug trades. People often got hurt in the crossfire between police and the gangs and the children often got caught up in the gangs from an early age. It remarkably only took two days to pacify Santa Marta as the police gave good warning they were coming and most of the gang members fled. However the flip side of this is they all went to other favelas away from the south zone. So rather than solving a problem they have just moved it and made other favelas more unsafe. The day before we visited Santa Marta, a favela close by that was supposed to be pacified erupted in a gun fight between police and a young gang who attacked the police station. The battles sprawled out of the neighbourhood onto Copacabana. The police won in the end but this proves the drugs war is far from over.

We caught the free train to the top of Santa Marta and took in the view over the city. They really do have a good spot with Sugarloaf Mountain on one side, Cristo gazing down from the other and the ocean out in front. We walked down through the wonky streets. It was crazy how some of these houses were even standing up. Apparently there are unofficial favela architects, that even though they have no training or qualifications, know how to build the impossible.

Back in 2009 Red Bull held a down hill mountain bike event in Santa Marta. All the residents got behind it and were even pointing out the route to the riders. They completed the 800 meter descent in under two minutes. See the video below.

Whilst wandering the labyrinth we popped out at a small square with a statue and mosaic of the king of pop. Apparently Jacko got helicoptered in when he arrived, instantly putting Santa Marta on the map. We went into a small gift shop where they were playing his video. I felt sorry for the lady who probably had listened to it thousands of times, had things got better for her?

Near the shop was Pedro's boss's house. We all went in and were greeted with a Rio Olympic torch. Pedro's boss had been picked to represent the residents of favelas in the torch relay. It was remarkably heavy and still had scorch marks at the top from the flame.

We wandered some more small ally's and tunnels and suddenly appeared at the main square. This was the headline act of our tour and is where the art project had begun. Bright graphic stripes of colour covered the buildings stretching up three of four stories. It looked really striking and definitely lifted the whole square. The plan was to have the whole favela painted by the Olympics however Pedro reckons they must have meant the Tokyo one.

Bar Urca & Botafogo
Towards the end of our time in Rio, H managed to arrange a drink with her Olympic volunteer crew. We met in the tranquil neighbourhood of Urca at the foot of Sugarloaf mountain. We bought some beers and fried sardines and sat on a wall overlooking the harbour. We met Alba first, a lovely bubbly lady with an infectious laugh. Later we were joined by a local lad called Bernardo and a fashionable girl called Carol who is a YouTube superstar. They were all great fun and we all chatted into the evening. Not wanting our last night to end we continued onto the packed side street bars of Botafogo and reminisced about our first week back in traveling mode.

Leaving Rio
Our last day happened to be a public holiday and in true local style we went to the beach along with the rest of the city. Ipanema was heaving and full of life. The road along the beach had been closed and was full of longboarders, rollerbladers, joggers and even a few bands who rocked up and rocked out. The atmosphere was like a festival with happy folk enjoying the sun and sand, the sea on the other hand was a different story. Packs of local surfers and body boarders dominated the waves shouting aggressively at anyone else trying to get a ride. It was pretty unfriendly and quite stressful. I had a quick hour gabbed a couple of waves then got out of there. I did however float into Gabriel and wished him farewell and good luck.

We took a 24 hour bus out of the city that evening. Whilst we waited for it to arrive Cristo popped his head up to wish us farewell in a gap between the bus station wall and the ceiling. He seems to be visible from almost anywhere in the city and must be the worlds best photo-bomber. We raced out of Rio over the 10km long Niterói bridge and off into the night onto our next adventure.