Sunday, 10 June 2007
10am
"Avoid cloudy days". It hits me the moment I open my eyes and realize that after two gloriously sunny mornings, my third one in Rio is not equally sunny... "Avoid cloudy days" is the piece of advice my Lonely Planet guidebook gives to those who are planning on enjoying the view from the top of Pão de Açúcar, Sugarloaf Mountain. "Avoid cloudy days", sure, makes sense, it's not a wise thing to spend 35 reais (ouch, more than 13 euros), to see... nothing, just find yourself in the middle of a cloud, unable to get the slightest glimpse of Rio. Only... eham... I have been "clever" enough to leave Pão de Açúcar for my last day in Rio. Well done Dimitris! The picture is shot at the feet of the mountain, at Urca, a lovely little neighbourhood of Rio.
10:10
Having enjoyed a great talk with some British pensioner during breakfast (I love seeing people in his age still passionately travelling around, it gives me hope that I won't change as the years will start feeling heavier on my shoulders), I do the only thing I can do: go to Urca either way, and just hope for the best. What the heck... The sun HAS TO appear at some point. This is my Pão de Açúcar and Maracanã day, and Urca may be small, but I'm willing to walk its last, narrowest lane of all, TWICE, waiting for the clouds to spare me and allow me to enjoy the highly advertised view.
10:20
Why am I here, and not on my way to Corcovado, to the statue of Christ the Redeemer? How is it possible to leave Rio without doing possibly THE number one touristy thing someone can do here? Well, the answer is simple: I'm a stubborn fool (as well as a lousy advertiser of myself, obviously). For three days now, Christ the Redeemer is all I hear about. At my hostel, I hear people making plans about going there. The newspapers every day have extensive coverage of the whole "how Cristo Redentor is doing in the voting for the Seven New Wonders of the World" issue, Christ the Redeemer is EVERYWHERE, and my stubbornly fool natural reaction is to... ignore it, even though, mind you, I have a HI card for Brazil, which gives me a good discount if I visit the sight certain hours.
10:30
I feel that Pão de Açúcar is... more me. It's way lower profile than Cristo Redentor, is said to offer stunning views of the city, plus, it's right next door, about 5-10 minutes' walk from my hostel. Who needs Christ the Redeemer, after all? (Be fooled not. Looking back, I feel like smashing my head against some wall for not going to Corcovado. For a change I should have kicked the butt out of my foolish half. Seriously though, I feel... at peace with it, for one reason only. I know one day I will go back to Rio, and then I won't miss going to Corcovado. I don't "think" I will go back to Rio one day, I don't "hope" I will go back to Rio one day, I don't "wish", I don't "dream" of it, I just... know it. It must have happened to all of you, more maybe that once or twice... You have the feeling something IS, no matter WHAT, going to happen, you feel it in your bones, you just don't know when exactly... Strange/funny feeling...).
11:10
Woohoo! How happy am I to look up and FINALLY see the sky blue again? Picture a kiddo who is being given a toy as a present, a toy the kiddo has been drooling over for quite some time, every time he saw the relevant advertisement on TV. That's me right now. For more than an hour now I have been slowly dragging my feet around, walking the same little streets again and again and again, but now I pick up the pace and head straight to the place where I can catch the cable car to the top (actually you take two cable cars, breaking the "elevation" in two. Details...). The sky is not of course perfectly clear yet, but give me a break... Every kid steals a little of his birthday cake with his finger before the "Haaaappy birthday to youuuuu"... ceremony...
11:50
As "Janice" from "Friends" would say, "ooooh myyyyy Goooood!!!" (without that nasal sound, though). I am at the top of Pão de Açúcar, and I can see Copacabana (photo), I can see Botafogo, Flamengo, other neighbourhoods to the north, I can look back and see Niterói on the other side of the bay, even the tallest buildings along Ipanema beach... My patience is being rewarded, and I find that the expensive admission ticket is -thankfully- anything but a waste of money. Needless to say, I lose it, I take a hundred pictures, stopping every now and then just to enjoy the view, try to spot as many details as I can. That British pensioner I mentioned earlier, has really traveled the world, mostly working as a piano player on cruisers and private boats, entertaining rich and famous people. I told him up to now I used to say that Sydney is the most impressive, natural-beauty wise, city, I had ever been to, but Rio tops it. His vote goes to Johannesburg. I wouldn't know. Never been to South Africa. The view from the top of the Sugarloaf mountain though, only strengthens my impression that Rio is even more impressive than Sydney. It's the steep mountain tops scattered all around and the playful way the sandy beaches hug the city, hosting baby bays, that make the view THAT majestic...
12
I lllllllove my new Olympus' big optical zoom! The hill top between the Sugarloaf Mountain and Copacabana is not able to obstruct the view. Thank you modern photo cameras' technology! It's as if... well... it's as if a girl is showering next door, and I can take a shameful peak, which of course I'd never do, I'm too much of a chicken, eham... I mean... too much of a GENTLEMAN (rrrrrrright...).
12:10
If you ask me, I'm glad the sky is not 100% clear. I like this thin sheet of cloud. It makes the city look even more... dreamy, if you ask me. Since I just mentioned naked girls, I'd say that if the sky was 100% clear, then the city would look naked, having taken her clothes off quickly, without any grace, without any playful foreplay. Sure, nothing's wrong with that, a woman with Rio's curves and sex appeal looks stunningly beautiful either way, but this thin layer of cloud makes the city look as if it IS naked alright, but it still holds a tiny piece of cloth which it uses to hide from you as little or as much as she thinks she needs to hide, just enough to let your imagination work a little more, which only leads to your stimulation growing bigger... (Hm... I think it's time to stop talking about naked women... Maybe it's just that it's mid June and I haven't had sex for a few months now... Oooooooook, back to Rio!!).
12:30
Told you, you take two cable cars, not one, to go from the bottom of the mountain to the very top, making a break half way. This picture is taken from the top where you make exactly that break. I consider it a bonus, because... you know... two peaks, double chances to shoot pictures, two -slightly- different corners of view. What's funny is that every single time I get in a cable car (which, either way, doesn't happen that often), I bring in mind my mother... She has a fear of heights, she doesn't get into elevators, she hasn't come yet to see this tiny studio I am renting for a few months now because it's on the sixth floor and A), she can't come up walking all these floors, B), she would get dizzy if she got out to my balcony, and she got this fear yeeeeeears ago, before having her precious only child (My Highness), when she and my father had a tiny mishap at the Swiss Alps. They were in a cable car, it got stuck, it was windy, it took them some time to fix the problem, my mother panicked, and no, it wasn't dangerous or anything, it's not like their lives had gotten in danger, but that was it, my mother was left with a lifetime trauma... She would miss quite a view if she ever came to Rio...
2:10pm
As previously mentioned, this is Sugarloaf Mountain and Maracanã day. Fluzão (Fluminense) play against Sport from Recife, kick-off is at 4pm, but I come a couple of hours earlier. My hostel is organizing an "excursion" (can't find a better word in English) to the stadium for the match, but A), I find their price high, B), I'm a pathetic loner who prefers doing things alone, especially certain things he wants to enjoy HIS way. Coming to Maracanã is one of those. I leave the Metro station behind, I follow the stairs up to some footbridge, and as I reach the top of the stairs, theeeeere iiiiit iiiiis... Long pause... The one and only Maracanã... Long pause (part II)... I get goosebumps. I honestly get goosebumps and I can feel my eyes wet. I know, it sounds ridiculous, a 31-32 year old long haired/arms bearing three tattoos Greek guy, is standing all alone at some footbridge looking at some football stadium, which, let's be honest, is not the most impressive piece of football stadium architecture you can find around, all "goose bump-ed" with wet eyes...
2:25
The thing is... I grew up playing football from early in the morning until late in the night and even when it would get dark, when my mother would "order" me to go back home, I would play with some ball in my room. I practically slept with a ball next to my pillow, and for years I would get all bewitched every time I'd hear the name of this... mythic stadium in Rio de Janeiro, where Brazil lost to Uruguay in the World Cup final of 1950 (a day that apparently is still haunting Brazilians). I had a video tape with images from that match, people in the stands crying their eyes out after the final whistle, others committing suicide, according to legends(?), unable to "swallow" the "catastrophe". It all happened in Maracanã, a name that in my pre-teen and teen mind was equal to that of a mythic place, a place you can pronounce the name of, but not really go to, because Brazil is so far away, so far away that I can't even dream of going to one day (so I thought).
2:30
When I turned 19, I realized that I wasn't good (or maybe just patient and determined) enough to become a professional footballer. This is when I decided to become a sportswriter. Next best thing, I thought. More years passed, traveled a lot, but still, long distance trips remained an uncatchable dream, for a series of reasons. Until now... The other day I wrote that dreaming is great, dreaming and having goals in life is one of those things that make life worth-living, I reckon, but from time to time you need a dream of yours to turn real, you need a proof that if you are willing to make the necessary sacrifices, you will be rewarded, and I am not talking about any money-related reward here... I'm talking about that indescribable feeling of seeing a huge dream of yours actually HAPPEN, after years and years of hearing people tell you that it never would. HUH!!!, I say. That explains my previously wet eyes... I still have an hour and a half until kick-off, so I make the circle of the stadium, under the upper stands, a sponge, absorbing every single image around me...
3:10
A group of tourists comes. Fans are beginning to gather up. A few days ago, Fluminense won the Cup of Brazil, so people have a perfect reason to celebrate. The team comes out to the pitch way before kick-off, the players are holding the cup they won a few days ago, and they are making the circle of the pitch, with the fans singing, clapping, jumping up and down, waving huge flags... Once again, what I see has nothing to do with what I expected from Brazilian stadia before coming to the country. I was under the impression that I would find a "rough" atmosphere where people would only be too ready to start off a riot with the police (blame the media coverage), and what I find is a warm-warm-warm atmosphere, where whole families can be seen, and an unbelievable number of women, even single ones, meaning... not having a guy with them, not having come to the match just because the boyfriend wanted to come (as in many cases is the case in my own country, Greece).
5:10
Early second half. Fluminense is one goal up. The match will end 3-0, the fans go crazy every time their team scores, but it's when they see certain announcements on the electronic score board that they really-really lose it... Flamengo, Fluminense's arch-rival, are playing the very same moment away, hosted by Figueirense. Figueirense makes "Flu's" fans happy, kicking some Flamengo butts (4-0!!!!), and Maracanã goes wild every time the score board informs the fans that "Fla's" catastrophe is growing bigger and bigger... This Fla-Flu rivalry goes a loooooooong way back, started out even before my late grandmother was born...
6pm
I see this... sea of people and I do one of the stupidest things I did during this trip: get up on a wall about 1.20-1.30 meters high, to take a clip of the singing crowd. Just because I don't have a problem with cable cars, doesn't mean that I deal with heights very well, especially when I have to balance on a rather thin piece of wall, with nothing in between me and a 50+meters gap. Who cares?... I get my clip, and some guys pose, seeing me using the camera. The photo is anything but a piece of art, but I love it, I find it to be the perfect end of a perfect afternoon. I take the Metro back to Botafogo, the atmosphere in the train is as festive as it was in the stadium, until I get off, at Botafogo, back to the familiar, by now, neighbourhood around my hostel. The lady with the sausages and beers cart is at her usual corner, today accompanied by a transvestite friend of hers (trust me, you could tell...), who makes me smile with things(...) he says in English, realizing that I am a tourist. The sausage and the beer are followed by a rice pudding with lots of cinnamon (why do people get shocked when they see how much cinnamon I want in my... anything that can be accompanied by cinnamon?!), and with the rice pudding in hand I go into some internet café. Tomorrow morning I am flying to Fortaleza, in the northeast. My time in Rio is almost up, I look back at these last three days, look back at all the things I enjoyed and all the things I didn't, because of the kind of person I am. All in all, I'm happy, AND, I have this feeling I wrote about earlier. I know one day I will be back, as much as I know that my name is Dimitris and that my parents love me and the ground I step on, as much as any human being can love someone/something...
10am
"Avoid cloudy days". It hits me the moment I open my eyes and realize that after two gloriously sunny mornings, my third one in Rio is not equally sunny... "Avoid cloudy days" is the piece of advice my Lonely Planet guidebook gives to those who are planning on enjoying the view from the top of Pão de Açúcar, Sugarloaf Mountain. "Avoid cloudy days", sure, makes sense, it's not a wise thing to spend 35 reais (ouch, more than 13 euros), to see... nothing, just find yourself in the middle of a cloud, unable to get the slightest glimpse of Rio. Only... eham... I have been "clever" enough to leave Pão de Açúcar for my last day in Rio. Well done Dimitris! The picture is shot at the feet of the mountain, at Urca, a lovely little neighbourhood of Rio.
10:10
Having enjoyed a great talk with some British pensioner during breakfast (I love seeing people in his age still passionately travelling around, it gives me hope that I won't change as the years will start feeling heavier on my shoulders), I do the only thing I can do: go to Urca either way, and just hope for the best. What the heck... The sun HAS TO appear at some point. This is my Pão de Açúcar and Maracanã day, and Urca may be small, but I'm willing to walk its last, narrowest lane of all, TWICE, waiting for the clouds to spare me and allow me to enjoy the highly advertised view.
10:20
Why am I here, and not on my way to Corcovado, to the statue of Christ the Redeemer? How is it possible to leave Rio without doing possibly THE number one touristy thing someone can do here? Well, the answer is simple: I'm a stubborn fool (as well as a lousy advertiser of myself, obviously). For three days now, Christ the Redeemer is all I hear about. At my hostel, I hear people making plans about going there. The newspapers every day have extensive coverage of the whole "how Cristo Redentor is doing in the voting for the Seven New Wonders of the World" issue, Christ the Redeemer is EVERYWHERE, and my stubbornly fool natural reaction is to... ignore it, even though, mind you, I have a HI card for Brazil, which gives me a good discount if I visit the sight certain hours.
10:30
I feel that Pão de Açúcar is... more me. It's way lower profile than Cristo Redentor, is said to offer stunning views of the city, plus, it's right next door, about 5-10 minutes' walk from my hostel. Who needs Christ the Redeemer, after all? (Be fooled not. Looking back, I feel like smashing my head against some wall for not going to Corcovado. For a change I should have kicked the butt out of my foolish half. Seriously though, I feel... at peace with it, for one reason only. I know one day I will go back to Rio, and then I won't miss going to Corcovado. I don't "think" I will go back to Rio one day, I don't "hope" I will go back to Rio one day, I don't "wish", I don't "dream" of it, I just... know it. It must have happened to all of you, more maybe that once or twice... You have the feeling something IS, no matter WHAT, going to happen, you feel it in your bones, you just don't know when exactly... Strange/funny feeling...).
11:10
Woohoo! How happy am I to look up and FINALLY see the sky blue again? Picture a kiddo who is being given a toy as a present, a toy the kiddo has been drooling over for quite some time, every time he saw the relevant advertisement on TV. That's me right now. For more than an hour now I have been slowly dragging my feet around, walking the same little streets again and again and again, but now I pick up the pace and head straight to the place where I can catch the cable car to the top (actually you take two cable cars, breaking the "elevation" in two. Details...). The sky is not of course perfectly clear yet, but give me a break... Every kid steals a little of his birthday cake with his finger before the "Haaaappy birthday to youuuuu"... ceremony...
11:50
As "Janice" from "Friends" would say, "ooooh myyyyy Goooood!!!" (without that nasal sound, though). I am at the top of Pão de Açúcar, and I can see Copacabana (photo), I can see Botafogo, Flamengo, other neighbourhoods to the north, I can look back and see Niterói on the other side of the bay, even the tallest buildings along Ipanema beach... My patience is being rewarded, and I find that the expensive admission ticket is -thankfully- anything but a waste of money. Needless to say, I lose it, I take a hundred pictures, stopping every now and then just to enjoy the view, try to spot as many details as I can. That British pensioner I mentioned earlier, has really traveled the world, mostly working as a piano player on cruisers and private boats, entertaining rich and famous people. I told him up to now I used to say that Sydney is the most impressive, natural-beauty wise, city, I had ever been to, but Rio tops it. His vote goes to Johannesburg. I wouldn't know. Never been to South Africa. The view from the top of the Sugarloaf mountain though, only strengthens my impression that Rio is even more impressive than Sydney. It's the steep mountain tops scattered all around and the playful way the sandy beaches hug the city, hosting baby bays, that make the view THAT majestic...
12
I lllllllove my new Olympus' big optical zoom! The hill top between the Sugarloaf Mountain and Copacabana is not able to obstruct the view. Thank you modern photo cameras' technology! It's as if... well... it's as if a girl is showering next door, and I can take a shameful peak, which of course I'd never do, I'm too much of a chicken, eham... I mean... too much of a GENTLEMAN (rrrrrrright...).
12:10
If you ask me, I'm glad the sky is not 100% clear. I like this thin sheet of cloud. It makes the city look even more... dreamy, if you ask me. Since I just mentioned naked girls, I'd say that if the sky was 100% clear, then the city would look naked, having taken her clothes off quickly, without any grace, without any playful foreplay. Sure, nothing's wrong with that, a woman with Rio's curves and sex appeal looks stunningly beautiful either way, but this thin layer of cloud makes the city look as if it IS naked alright, but it still holds a tiny piece of cloth which it uses to hide from you as little or as much as she thinks she needs to hide, just enough to let your imagination work a little more, which only leads to your stimulation growing bigger... (Hm... I think it's time to stop talking about naked women... Maybe it's just that it's mid June and I haven't had sex for a few months now... Oooooooook, back to Rio!!).
12:30
Told you, you take two cable cars, not one, to go from the bottom of the mountain to the very top, making a break half way. This picture is taken from the top where you make exactly that break. I consider it a bonus, because... you know... two peaks, double chances to shoot pictures, two -slightly- different corners of view. What's funny is that every single time I get in a cable car (which, either way, doesn't happen that often), I bring in mind my mother... She has a fear of heights, she doesn't get into elevators, she hasn't come yet to see this tiny studio I am renting for a few months now because it's on the sixth floor and A), she can't come up walking all these floors, B), she would get dizzy if she got out to my balcony, and she got this fear yeeeeeears ago, before having her precious only child (My Highness), when she and my father had a tiny mishap at the Swiss Alps. They were in a cable car, it got stuck, it was windy, it took them some time to fix the problem, my mother panicked, and no, it wasn't dangerous or anything, it's not like their lives had gotten in danger, but that was it, my mother was left with a lifetime trauma... She would miss quite a view if she ever came to Rio...
2:10pm
As previously mentioned, this is Sugarloaf Mountain and Maracanã day. Fluzão (Fluminense) play against Sport from Recife, kick-off is at 4pm, but I come a couple of hours earlier. My hostel is organizing an "excursion" (can't find a better word in English) to the stadium for the match, but A), I find their price high, B), I'm a pathetic loner who prefers doing things alone, especially certain things he wants to enjoy HIS way. Coming to Maracanã is one of those. I leave the Metro station behind, I follow the stairs up to some footbridge, and as I reach the top of the stairs, theeeeere iiiiit iiiiis... Long pause... The one and only Maracanã... Long pause (part II)... I get goosebumps. I honestly get goosebumps and I can feel my eyes wet. I know, it sounds ridiculous, a 31-32 year old long haired/arms bearing three tattoos Greek guy, is standing all alone at some footbridge looking at some football stadium, which, let's be honest, is not the most impressive piece of football stadium architecture you can find around, all "goose bump-ed" with wet eyes...
2:25
The thing is... I grew up playing football from early in the morning until late in the night and even when it would get dark, when my mother would "order" me to go back home, I would play with some ball in my room. I practically slept with a ball next to my pillow, and for years I would get all bewitched every time I'd hear the name of this... mythic stadium in Rio de Janeiro, where Brazil lost to Uruguay in the World Cup final of 1950 (a day that apparently is still haunting Brazilians). I had a video tape with images from that match, people in the stands crying their eyes out after the final whistle, others committing suicide, according to legends(?), unable to "swallow" the "catastrophe". It all happened in Maracanã, a name that in my pre-teen and teen mind was equal to that of a mythic place, a place you can pronounce the name of, but not really go to, because Brazil is so far away, so far away that I can't even dream of going to one day (so I thought).
2:30
When I turned 19, I realized that I wasn't good (or maybe just patient and determined) enough to become a professional footballer. This is when I decided to become a sportswriter. Next best thing, I thought. More years passed, traveled a lot, but still, long distance trips remained an uncatchable dream, for a series of reasons. Until now... The other day I wrote that dreaming is great, dreaming and having goals in life is one of those things that make life worth-living, I reckon, but from time to time you need a dream of yours to turn real, you need a proof that if you are willing to make the necessary sacrifices, you will be rewarded, and I am not talking about any money-related reward here... I'm talking about that indescribable feeling of seeing a huge dream of yours actually HAPPEN, after years and years of hearing people tell you that it never would. HUH!!!, I say. That explains my previously wet eyes... I still have an hour and a half until kick-off, so I make the circle of the stadium, under the upper stands, a sponge, absorbing every single image around me...
3:10
A group of tourists comes. Fans are beginning to gather up. A few days ago, Fluminense won the Cup of Brazil, so people have a perfect reason to celebrate. The team comes out to the pitch way before kick-off, the players are holding the cup they won a few days ago, and they are making the circle of the pitch, with the fans singing, clapping, jumping up and down, waving huge flags... Once again, what I see has nothing to do with what I expected from Brazilian stadia before coming to the country. I was under the impression that I would find a "rough" atmosphere where people would only be too ready to start off a riot with the police (blame the media coverage), and what I find is a warm-warm-warm atmosphere, where whole families can be seen, and an unbelievable number of women, even single ones, meaning... not having a guy with them, not having come to the match just because the boyfriend wanted to come (as in many cases is the case in my own country, Greece).
5:10
Early second half. Fluminense is one goal up. The match will end 3-0, the fans go crazy every time their team scores, but it's when they see certain announcements on the electronic score board that they really-really lose it... Flamengo, Fluminense's arch-rival, are playing the very same moment away, hosted by Figueirense. Figueirense makes "Flu's" fans happy, kicking some Flamengo butts (4-0!!!!), and Maracanã goes wild every time the score board informs the fans that "Fla's" catastrophe is growing bigger and bigger... This Fla-Flu rivalry goes a loooooooong way back, started out even before my late grandmother was born...
6pm
I see this... sea of people and I do one of the stupidest things I did during this trip: get up on a wall about 1.20-1.30 meters high, to take a clip of the singing crowd. Just because I don't have a problem with cable cars, doesn't mean that I deal with heights very well, especially when I have to balance on a rather thin piece of wall, with nothing in between me and a 50+meters gap. Who cares?... I get my clip, and some guys pose, seeing me using the camera. The photo is anything but a piece of art, but I love it, I find it to be the perfect end of a perfect afternoon. I take the Metro back to Botafogo, the atmosphere in the train is as festive as it was in the stadium, until I get off, at Botafogo, back to the familiar, by now, neighbourhood around my hostel. The lady with the sausages and beers cart is at her usual corner, today accompanied by a transvestite friend of hers (trust me, you could tell...), who makes me smile with things(...) he says in English, realizing that I am a tourist. The sausage and the beer are followed by a rice pudding with lots of cinnamon (why do people get shocked when they see how much cinnamon I want in my... anything that can be accompanied by cinnamon?!), and with the rice pudding in hand I go into some internet café. Tomorrow morning I am flying to Fortaleza, in the northeast. My time in Rio is almost up, I look back at these last three days, look back at all the things I enjoyed and all the things I didn't, because of the kind of person I am. All in all, I'm happy, AND, I have this feeling I wrote about earlier. I know one day I will be back, as much as I know that my name is Dimitris and that my parents love me and the ground I step on, as much as any human being can love someone/something...
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