Day 13 - Saturday, May 30, 2009: Rio de Janeiro, The City

by Jenny Flanigan

Each time that we have switched locations, I have awoken in my “new” bed, confused for a moment about where in the world I am. Saturday morning was no different. It was our first morning in Rio, staying in a cute little hostel called the “Ipanema Beach House.” The Beach House lives up to its name, as it is only a few blocks from both the beach and shopping. My classmate Tyler and I, self-proclaimed early risers, decided to go walk on the beach while everyone else was getting ready to start the day. The famous Ipanema Beach was very rough this morning. There were huge waves, the biggest I have ever seen in person, which looked like they would swallow any potential swimmers whole. We walked on the sand, enjoying the sights of other early risers playing volleyball and paddle ball on the beach. Our tour guide Julio later said that everyone in Rio does lots of exercise so that they can “show off” their in-shape figures at Ipanema Beach. Tyler and I decided to stop at a little kiosk that sells beverages to buy a coconut to drink. The vendor lops off the top of the green coconut and sticks in two straws to drink up the sweet, cold coconut water. After finishing our coconut water, we begrudgingly left the beach, excited for the eventful and touristy day that was ahead.

The first stop was the iconic Christo Redentor (Christ the Redeemer), one of the new Seven Wonders of the World. Vans took us to the top of the huge mountain on which the Christo resides, overlooking the city with outstretched arms and a bowed head. The view from the Christo Redentor is phenomenal, but is also difficult to describe. The entire city is visible as you climb the steps to the somber Redeemer. On one side of Rio, it is very beautiful. There is glistening water, beautiful buildings and a well-developed, organized city. On the other side of the city, however, the opposite is true. The hills are lined with favelas, shanty-buildings stuck on the sides of the mountains where hundreds of thousands of people live. But Christo Redentor watches over the whole city, rich and poor, dark and light, the beautiful beaches and the ugly underbelly.



Back in the vans, we passed a favela that was ironically named the Favela of Pleasures. Seeing that we were interested, Julio began to explain how favelas are set up. Drug dealers are the overlords of favelas, Julio explained. There is a system of laws set up by the drug lords; enforced by fear or violence or both. Julio explained that the people living there are people that work, often long hours, but either cannot afford to live elsewhere or even prefer to live there because they feel safe there. When I asked whether the drug overlords follow their own laws, Julio laughed. (One of the many things I have learned on this trip is that you never want to hear you tour guide laugh). ‘The drug lords do what they want,’ he said with a bit of a smirk. If you hear fireworks, he said, this often means that drug shipments have arrived. (I tried not to think about the fact that I often heard fireworks while staying in Vila Velha, where my host lived near a favela.) The drug dealers send out children to scope for outsiders and police, he explained. From this description, I wondered how the residents of the Favela of Pleasures could possibly feel any safety or pleasure.

The vans drove us to Santa Teresa, an artsy neighborhood that can best be described as Bohemian. We shopped a bit, where I found a store that my friend Whitney aptly described as selling the remnants of some interesting person’s life. The store sold little cards with dates on the back, cards that looked like they were collected over a lifetime, death announcements and birth announcements and programs from Catholic mass. The card that I remember showed a picture of a young girl, the writing explaining in Portugese how the girl died at age 9 and announcing the date of her funeral. The cards are creepy, Whitney and I remarked, but I remember this card quite vividly in my head. I wished that I could read Portuguese, so I might know how this young little girl died at age 9 in 1942. It was one of the many times I wished I had spent more time learning Portuguese before coming to Brasil.



Next, we rode a trolley and walked to a Cathedral. (I use the term trolley loosely). Many of the boys and some of the brave girls saved themselves 60 centavos (the equivalent of about 30 cents) by riding outside of the rickety trolley and hanging on to the handles while we passed buildings and bridges. It was the best 60 centavos I spent, to have a seat on the trolley rather than a handle to hold on to. “Just a little bit of danger,” said Professor cummings about the trolley ride. “Just a little bit of danger” may well be the Brasil trip’s next slogan.

Next was a visit to the Steps of Selaron, the beautiful, colorful and eccentric “Stairway to Heaven,” complete with tiles from all parts of the world. Interestingly, these steps were part of Snoop Dog’s video “Beautiful.” The artist, Selaron, lives and works in the middle of the steps. He is as colorful and eccentric as the steps themselves.

We ended the day with a tram ride up to Sugarloaf at sunset. Again we got to see a beautiful new perspective of the city of Rio. The sunsets in Brasil are gorgeous, and the timing of the tram ride to the top of the mountain was a perfect way to see the sunset against the city. The Christo Redentor was illuminated against the dark night sky, watching over the many happenings of the night.

As we drove back to the hostel later that evening, I reflected on all the happenings of the day; the interesting conversations that seem to happen when one travels with others. The conversations have been, at least to me, the best part of the trip. Great conversations between professors and students (in class and outside of class); between my classmates and myself, talking about things we may never have spoken about in West Virginia; between Americans and Brasilians, exchanging ideas and culture and dance moves; between the Americans in Brasil and our friends, significant others and family at home in the States, describing the places we have seen and the places we will go. That is what the Brasilian experience has been to me: open ears, open minds, and, just like the great Redeemer on the mountaintop, open arms.