Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
(part 1)
August 16th, 2015
I have only been in Brazil for four days, but it feels like a month! Maybe that’s because my liver is now a shriveled pickle. I haven’t partied this hard since Europe. Or maybe the four days of TomorrowWorld that rendered me hungover for four weeks. Nevertheless, cachaça is my new mortal enemy. I don’t understand this liquor. I know it’s just like any other alcohol with ethanol, however something about this stuff just absolutely pulverizes your sobriety. I drank so much last night I couldn’t feel my legs. No wonder they call it Gringo killer! But I digress….
After leaving my couchsurfing hosts in Niteroi, I took the hour-long bus to Zona Sul, or the southern region of Rio. This is unquestionably the nicest part of the city. The neighborhood consists of the three big beaches of Copacabana, Ipanema, and Leblon, as well as stunning avenues that run east to west of the ocean. This part of town reminds me a lot of Barcelona with gorgeous architecture and tropical tree-lined boulevards where wealthy, beautiful people are pushing babies in $5000 strollers and walking dog breeds I can’t pronounce.
I couldn’t figure out what bus to take in this neighborhood so I decided to walk to my hostel from the metro stop. It turned out to be around three miles, and with my raging hangover, lack of sleep, and 50-pound pack on my back, I thought I was going to die.
I saw a sign for a McDonald’s, and even though I never eat American food when backpacking, the thought of egg McMuffins and coffee was precisely what I needed to save my life. But thankfully, I discovered a badass restaurant called Andrassa up the street and decided to dine here instead. They had a killer brunch and I annihilated 25,000 calories.
I finally arrived at my hostel, Lemon Spirit, and went about checking in. The receptionist laughed at me when I told him I got too drunk to leave Niteroi the night before. Gotta love paying for a bed you never slept in. I usually try to stay in the most social hostels in every city I travel to, regardless of price. When you are a solo backpacker, you want to be where the party is so you can meet people. This hostel came highly recommended online and by my fellow backpacker friend Kevin, and I can see why. Tons of young cool kids chilling on bean bags and hammocks on the patio with a bar that was already bustling at 11 am. I was super pumped to be here, and while most of you likely cringe at the thought of crashing in a hostel, I absolutely love it! I threw my bags in my room and met my roommates… five girls from Ireland. And Batty. Poor girls!
I headed down to the patio and introduced myself to some of the guests. I met a girl named Belinda from Switzerland who actually worked at the hostel I stayed at in Interlaken. I asked about her South American itinerary, and she said she had zero plans. She left home with all her savings, said goodbye to her family, and has no idea when she will go home. She will travel the world until she runs out of money. That takes guts!
I also met two hilarious British guys named Mike and Dan who looked like they were dying in the hammocks. They said they had gone out to the block party insanity of Lapa the night before, which is something I am disappointed I missed. Apparently, Lapa on Friday is legendary, and from the looks of these guys, it was certainly true. Dan said he drank so many caipirinhas he was “paralytic.” I laughed so hard hearing him say this in an English accent. Then I met Vivian, an adorable Carioca who was excited at the prospect of showing me some awesome parts of Zona Sul. We grabbed our stuff and made the excruciatingly long trek to Leblon beach… 1 block away!
The beaches here crush anything we have in America. Right next to huge mountains with the most beautiful people you will ever see. Plus, the locals walk around hawking everything from hats and bracelets to hand made cocktails and beers. You don’t have to get up for anything. You just sit back in your beach chair and get wrecked!
We left Leblon beach and strolled all the way down to Ipanema beach, got some food and caipirinhas at a cafe, and then cabbed off to Sugarloaf Mountain. We wanted to see if we could catch sunset, but there were loads of tourists already there because it was a Saturday. No worries! The pictures of Rio at night would certainly suffice! Sugarloaf is one of the highest points of Rio and is situated on a peninsula on the south east end of Rio. The views are indescribable. You ride a pair of gondolas to the top and then get drinks from the bar at the top. We hung out for an hour, not wanting to leave. I could seriously sit there forever, watching individual lights in all of the favelas flicker on one after another like little Christmas lights in the distance. Even crazier was the fact that you could see flash lights and head lamps on the mountain below; insane dudes who were rock climbing to the top in the darkness! Brazilians certainly earn their reputation for being a bit insane.
We left Sugarloaf and headed back to Copacabana beach. Yet again the Western media completely over blows how dangerous Rio can be. Everyone says don’t go to Copacabana beach at night or you will undoubtedly get robbed. Well, all I experienced was happy families playing soccer on the beach, guys playing guitars to pretty girlfriends, couples roller blading, and an awesome night market with perfect gringo souvenirs. I went a bit overboard: I bought a shirt, a headband, a bracelet, pins, key chains, magnets, and more beer. I seriously feel like I am rich here because of this conversion rate!
Vivian and I both had a delightful buzz, but decided to kick this into high gear. We went to the legendary Irish bar in Ipanema called Shenanigans. I happily requested two car bombs from the bartender and was mortified when she told me they didn’t have Guinness. What in the holy fuck? What kind of Irish bar is this?! Fine. SoCo shots it is! After blowing 200 reals, we called it a night and crashed at the hostel.
I needed to get some rest because the next day would be one of the main excursions of this trip… A football match at the hallowed Maracana stadium! Rio has four club soccer teams, and everyone says you have to pick a favorite when you arrive. Since Samuel had taken me to the Flumenense (aka Flu) club for his diving practice, I decided that would be my go-to team. They are favored by more of the upper class of Rio, while the most popular team is Flamengo. 80% of Rio absolutely lives and dies for Flamengo, including all of the favela people. This is why their games can be quite dangerous. But Flumenense has a more chilled out fan base, so the game would be enjoyable, but not a complete shit show. Also, the revered Ronaldinho plays for them, so it would be awesome to see one of the best footballers on earth play. Flu was playing a team from south Brazil, but I am told when the Rio teams play each other (especially Flamengo vs Vasco) it’s basically warfare at the stadium. People get murdered there all the time. Oh boy….
I met back up with the Brits, Dan and Mike, as well as their boy Jak. We hopped in a van and headed off for Maracana. The stadium holds more than 80,000 people, but only 30,000 or so were in attendance for this game. Nevertheless, it was still complete chaos. After our very uncomfortable body search by the police, I ran straight to the first beer vendor I could find. I bought a can for six reals and walked back to the Brits happy. However, they were laughing their asses off at me. I didn’t notice that the beer was named “Zero Percent”… a non-alcoholic beer! They don’t sell booze in the stadium to keep the fans from getting out of control. You mean I have to watch three hours of soccer sober?! I was borderline homicidal.
We took our seats down by the field with all of the other rich people…. otherwise known as boring soccer fans. We looked up into the nose bleed seats and witnessed absolute pandemonium. All of the working-class people had a section to themselves, and oddly enough, this section was enclosed by a huge metal fence. They are segregated like dangerous animals… so naturally we decided to go watch the game from there! My pictures will never do this experience justice. These people were fucking NUTS! For the entirety of the game, they jumped, chanted, sang, waved flags, pounded drums, and threatened death upon the referees. We were literally in the middle of thousands of them, and I had never heard a sporting event so loud. They had at least two dozen different fight songs that everyone knew by heart… even little children and grandmothers. In the first half, Flu was losing 0–1 and everyone was super moody. But in the second half, they scored two goals and the place nearly exploded. I had never been part of sport-induced euphoria like that before. Then before the conclusion of the game, instructions were displayed on the jumbotron basically instructing the visiting fanbase how to exit the stadium before they get jumped and/or stabbed. This was no joke.
Flu won and we happily rode back to the hostel. We were all exhausted and starving, so we recruited some more backpackers (two girls from Cali and three girls from Sao Paulo) and headed off for a pizza buffet. Naturally I ate until I couldn’t breathe.
One by one, people tapped out and headed home for sleep. So now here I sit at the hostel bar with a couple from Wisconsin named Collin and Rose, debating on whether or not to go to a club tonight. I am so 50/50 on this. I am dead tired, and could seriously use the sleep. But then again, how often do you get to solo backpack Brazil?! So, I think I’ll make a decision after I put down a few more caipirinhas and see where life takes me. Tune into my next blog to see the results of my inevitably horrible decision!
-Batty
