Babecation in Rio - Part II

It is Monday, January 23rd and we're chilling on the beach in Bali. Our hosts, Sara and Jesse took us to a small and quiet hotel overlooking the Indian Ocean. The "hotel" consists of a few bungalows spread across a green lush garden right on the edge of the cliff by the ocean. People come here to relax and escape the crowded touristy areas of the island. We've been here for 3 days lost in perpetual indulgence, as Anne wisely put it. Today we're heading up north in the mountains, to a town called Ubud, the cultural center of the island, and also the place where Eat, Pray, Love takes place. Will I find my own Javier Bardem? But I'm getting side-tracked here; this post is supposed to be about Rio.

It seems to be getting harder to get myself to writing these blog posts. Overwhelming sensations, days full of new experiences... and the will to sit down and rationalize about them slowly goes away. On the other hand, if I don't write about it as soon as it happens, some of the smaller details and sensations tend to get lost in the bigger picture.
We called it "babecation" (a term whose creation I think belongs to my dear friend Elena Mangione, whom I miss a lot, btw) because my coworker Bruna from StumbleUpon joined us during the Rio part of our round-the-world trip. Bruna is Brazilian and she can't get enough of Rio. So, despite having a really long holiday vacation (StumbleUpon is really generous with that), she took an extra week off to meet us in Rio.

Aside from increasing the babe factor, having Bruna with us helped enormously because she speaks Portuguese. Which we don't. And in Brazil nobody speaks English. Nor Spanish. And those who do, refuse to understand. In terms of communication, Brazil was a real bitch for us. I speak Spanish pretty well and thought I'd be able to get around or understand what they're saying, but HELL NO! Ordering food and drinks on the street was a pain in the ass, asking for directions was impossible, we really had a hard time. I was almost in tears with frustration. Many times I tried to ask basic questions, often using gestures, and all I'd get back from the salesperson would be shrugs or a tirade of fast spoken Portuguese. But I guess I'm in their country, I have to play by their rules.

To get to Rio, we took a bus from Foz de Iguazu (on the border with Argentina) and sat on that bus for over 24 hours. The bus cost around 140 USD, but it was still cheaper than flying, which would've been about $300 one way. We assumed the bus would be just as nice as the overnight buses we took in Peru and Argentina, but no... this bus was shitty and nothing worked. The lights didn't work, the AC didn't work, the chairs were stiff and didn't recline and it leaked water from the rain. At some point, a pissed off passenger yelled at the bus driver (what exactly I don't know, since apparently I can't understand Portuguese at all) and after a short while the bus stopped and we were asked to transfer to a different bus. It was some time past midnight.

The views out the window compensated for the shitty ride. Brazil is a gorgeous country. It's so incredibly green. I wonder if the green in the flag stands for that. Every inch of land is covered by lush, seductive green-ness. There's no dry land, there's no dead land. Anything that exists immediately gets covered by lush vegetation. The image above shows these chandelier-looking trees. I don't know how they're called, but they were all over the hillsides on our 24-hour bus ride.

The thing that impressed me the most about Brazil is how well integrated the races are. Unlike United States, where blacks don't quite mingle with whites, Brazil is a fully and beautifully integrated country. It's how it's supposed to be. It's how it should've been in the US too, if race segregation didn't happen after slavery was abolished. In Brazil, segregation didn't happen, so people mingled from the moment slavery went away. It's hard to explain it, unless you're there and see it with your own eyes and if you've also been in the States and seen it there as well with your own eyes.

A little alley in Ipanema that was lined up with hostels. Since the hostels were tiny and didn't have communal hang-out areas, people were mostly hanging out on the stoop, turning the alley into a big stoop party.

We arrived in Rio on Saturday, January 7th. We didn't have a place to sleep. We looked up the address of a hostel in Lonely Planet and told the cab driver to take us there. We walked in and the place was fully booked. We walked to another hostel and it was full as well. We made the mistake not to book anything in advance, thinking we'd just find something once we get there. Bad thinking, since January is prime time in Rio and everything fills up fast. After a few hostels rejected us, we finally found one that had room. We gladly took it, even if it was overpriced and shitty. In Rio, beggars can't be choosers. Paying $30 for a bunk bed in a tiny 6-bed dorm room is all there was available for our budget and we took it.


As soon as we were done with that, we went straight to the beach, where we got coconuts and took the photo you can see above. Hell is always followed closely by heaven on our trip.

Ipanema beach must be one of the most beautiful beaches in the world. Beautiful soft white sand, gorgeous people, breathtaking mountains in the background... you can understand now why it's such a tourist attraction.

Ipanema beach is apparently split into sections, and each of them defines the type of people who tan their bodies in that area. There is one section for families and children, one section for "the rich and the beautiful", one section for the gay. Post Number 9 was for the beautiful people... we went there, of course. And what did we see? We saw a lot of chiseled and oiled male bodies and plenty of big butts with almost invisible bikinis. We got very confused because here in Brazil we couldn't tell which men were gay or not, since all men were fit and wore tiny sexy beach trunks. By American standards, you'd think that all men are gay, but no... they just like to work out and show off their bods playing soccer on the beach. The other thing we liked is how confident women are with their bodies. We saw big fatties with overflowing bellies and asses wearing tiny string bikinis. And nobody judged them, stared at them, laughed at them. That was beautiful.

 View of Ipanema beach from the eastern end, where it meets with Copacabana beach.

 A closeup of the western end of the Ipanema/Leblon beach, where you can see a favela creeping up on the hillside. Rocinha is the largest favela in Brazil and one of the most developed. Rocinha's population is estimated at between 150,000 and 300,000 inhabitants.

 On Sundays, the street closest to the beach shuts down to car traffic and fills up with skateboarders, bicyclists, joggers and roller skaters. I've never been to Miami, but I hear it's a lot like it.


The gay section of Ipanema beach is full of hunks in tiny colorful trunks. It's also the most packed section of the beach, as if someone drew an invisible line on the sand. I guess it's a great place to socialize and meet new love interests. We also saw a lot of foreigners with Brazilian boyfriends/vacation lovers.

 No shorts, no problem! You can buy them straight on the beach. Those yellow trunks are pretty sweet, don't ya think?

 With so many beaches and beach time all year round, waxing salons are doing great business in Rio. And boy do they take their waxing seriously! I went to get my wax on (no, it's not what you think) and had to take a photo of the waxing menu (see above). An extensive list, in alphabetical order, split by gender... you can basically get any part of your body waxed... and see the 3rd item on the list? And if you're a guy, you can even get your balls waxed! My dear male friends, has any of you ever tried that?

 There is a little park that you can walk through to cross from Ipanema beach to Copacabana beach. Its sandy alleys are carpeted with these yellow flowers.

 Night time is the perfect time to work out. After the scorching sun is gone and when people get off work, they come to the beach to play a game of volleysoccer (I just made that name up.) It's basically playing soccer with a soccer ball using a volley net. Just like in soccer, you can't touch the ball with your hands.

It's Monday night, the night Bruna arrived. We met up with her at the hostel and went for a walk on the beach. Here we are - day 1 of our babe-cation.

 Our shitty and overpriced hostel room. For $35/bed/night - this prison cell was the most expensive and least comfortable accommodation we've had on our trip so far. The mattresses were covered in blue plastic, probably to avoid getting stained by all the young party girls puking caipirihnas late at night. Under the mattress, there were sheets of wood, cracked or completely broken.

Most gas stations in Brazil carry etanol as alternative to normal gas. When will we see this in the US I wonder.

Our trip has been an eating extravaganza so far. Here we are, trying out deserts from Bahia, a region in the northern part of Brazil. Anne is eating a slice of coconut pudding cake and I'm eating caramelized coconut flakes with orange peel. I love trying out street food!

 The medicine man - an old guy selling all sorts of herbs, potions and teas.

 Downtown Rio, aka their version of the Financial District. Old tall buildings, with an old school charm.

Bruna and Anne by one of the gates surrounding an old Portuguese church in the heart of the downtown area.

Blue painted tiles inside the church - the color blue is traditional to Portuguese architecture.

I wonder how many other tourists take this same shot? This is in Santa Teresa, a cute romantic neighborhood perched at the top of a hill. We had a really hard time getting there, as all cab drivers we approached refused to take us there. Apparently, the road to St. Teresa is a steep windy cobble road and cabbies don't want to break their cars going up there. I suspect it might also be superstition, as the road used to have a tram on it. A few years ago, the tram went off the rails at a downhill turn and flew down the cliff, killing all the passengers inside. It was a big tragedy and the train was discontinued.

 The streets in Santa Teresa are lined up with cute little shops, restaurants and all sorts of wall art, such as this one.

Dancing on the streets in Lapa. The guy on the left taught us how to dance samba and we all danced together on the sidewalk outside a packed venue where a band was doing a live show.

Samba, de Janeiro!

View of Copacabana beach from the rooftop swimming-pool of a swanky hotel. Yup, we really love crashing hotel pools and we keep doing it in style! Ballers on a budget is what we are after all. As we were swimming on the 30-something floor, lulled by the most refined elevator music, we met a few Italian guys, who flew all the way from good ol' Europe to shoot an exotic music video for a hip Italian band. We had an enjoyable conversation with them. Dear Italian dudes, if you happen to read this, sorry we lied about staying at the hotel. We don't even know how much the rooms were, but I bet we couldn't afford it.

 Lunch at a beach bar in Buzios. Life is good!

Crashing yet another hotel pool, this time in Buzios. This one we got kicked out of, but not until we've used the hot tub and pool for several hours.

 Cruise ships line up in the harbor in Buzios.

 We saw these pretty windows and couldn't help doing a little fashion photoshoot sporting our latest yellow accessories: Anne's necklace and Bruna's blouse. A true babe-cation indeed!

 Anne and I with our matching 5-dollar hats.

 One of the many beaches in Buzios, packed with Argentine tourists. You could hear more Spanish than Portuguese in that place. And thank God, the sound of Argentine Spanish is music to my ears!

 Getting our beach cocktails on! When in Rome, do as the Romans.

Eating fried fish at a local fisherman's eatery in Buzios. Anne and I each ate a whole fried fish, white Bruna got a fish stew with coconut milk.

Babe-cation in Brazil

Rio de Janeiro was an incredible city and I feel like we only skimmed the surface in our week there. We spent the majority of our time at one beach or another, which is a big part of the Carioca (people living in Rio) culture. Monica's former co-worker from StumbleUpon, Bruna, met up with us for our time there, which was great not only because she was fun to hang out with, but also because she speaks Portuguese. Bruna was born in Brazil and her family immigrated to the U.S. when she was five years old. She'd been to Rio twice before, so she had the low-down on the best places to go and things we must do (like eat açaí bowls). 

Monica and I stayed at a hostel in Ipanema the first two nights before Bruna got to town, and then moved to a hostel in Copacabana for the remaining time with Bruna. Both hostels were pretty crummy, probably the worst hostels we've stayed at yet, but were in excellent locations near the beach. Many things in Rio are quite expensive (like hostels and buses to Rio), while others are inexpensive (sucos and street food). We went a little over budget during our stay, but we're making up for it now in inexpensive Bali.

On the bus to Rio from Iguazu Falls. This was taken shortly before arrival ~hour 24.5.

We weren't able to reserve a hostel spot in advance because everything was booked, so when we arrived, we asked the taxi driver to take us to the happenin' hostel spot in Ipanema--the little alley in the photo below.

Hostels left and right.

Once we found a couple beds, we went straight to the beach. It was a little overcast, but still hot and enjoyable weather. This was our first taste of the fun beach culture in Rio--lots of hot bods and vendors selling food, sarongs, bathing suits, hats, jewelry, etc.

Sarong vendor. Monica and I bought a couple of these. They're great for putting down and laying on top of the sand and also for wrapping around yourself as a skirt or dress.

Bikini top vendor to the left. Why even bother with the bottoms?

The men on the beach all wear short shorts (bathing trunks) if they are Brazilian. If you see a guy in regular swimming shorts (down to the knee) you know they are foreign. The women wear regular bikini tops, but the bottoms are a bit different--the fabric is cut in, exposing almost all of the bum. Monica, Bruna and I really stood out with our prude bikini bottoms. Also, everyone is tan.

People like to play sports on the beach. Below is a photo of people playing footvolley. It's basically volleyball, but instead of using your hands to toss the ball back and forth, you use every part of your body except your hands.

Bottle collector. I haven't seen that one shoulder strap overall style since fifth grade. It's back!

Hacky sack for cool kids.

The most popular spot on the beach is by far the gay section--marked off by rainbow flags. It's packed nuts to butts!

This is a slice of what you're working with in the gay section. Look out, San Francisco!

Twin brothers in the background (the mountains).

The far end of Ipanema, close to Copacabana.

We walked from the end of the beach at Leblon all the way down Ipanema beach to the rocks that separate Ipanema from Copacabana. Map here.

Walking back to our hostel, we spotted "Potty" but didn't buy anything.

A knack for names. This is no restroom.

Day two was spent back at the beach. Bruna arrived on day three and we ... went back to the beach. It's a good thing we went when we did because the following days were a bit rainy and overcast.

The next day we went to Centro, Rio's downtown.

Bruna lit a candle at the cathedral.

Cool building: Petrobras.

Street performance: Capoeira?

Getting directions from the sandwich board man.

Next, we went to Santa Teresa, a historic neighborhood with beautiful architecture, tourist shops and cafes. There used to be a street car that took you from Centro to Santa Teresa, but after an accident back in August, it got shut down. I'm not sure the politics behind the sign in the photo below, but this image was posted all throughout the neighborhood. On the way out of Santa Teresa, Bruna asked our cab driver a few questions about the accident and he started crying. She quickly changed the subject.

We almost went down this hill to explore, but a guy walked by and told us not to go down there because a group of men were waiting for us.

We stopped at a quirky cafe for an afternoon pick-me-up.

Bathroom sink in quirky Santa Teresa cafe.

Then we went to Lapa, Rio's party area. We heard live samba music coming from outside a bar, so we asked our cab driver to let us off. There was a cover charge to go inside, so we just hung out on the sidewalk (we could still hear the music) and danced with a group of locals. Samba dancing is hard. You think you can do it, but if you really try, you realize how fast your feet have to move. The locals got a kick out of watching us try to keep up.

After the band finished (and the cover charge ended), we went inside. I tried to order a suco but the lady taking drink orders wasn't having it. She just straight up pretended like she didn't know what I was talking about and shook her head "no". I gave up, frustrated that I'd been singled out as a tourist and unable to order a drink. Bruna was later able to order me the suco.

This brings up an interesting point. Most Brazilians do not want to speak English (or Spanish). They only want to speak Portuguese and they only want to hear you speak Portuguese. Even though I technically ordered the suco in Portuguese and I'm absolutely sure the lady understood me, she could tell I was foreign because she overheard me chatting with Monica in English, and then refused to serve me. I don't know why this is--maybe she's had bad experiences with foreigners before (?) but it really makes things difficult. Not everyone is like this, but we experienced it here and there. Luckily we had Bruna there to save us.

Bruna hit it off with this Brazilian guy. Cute couple ... too bad he lives so far away.

One of Monica's fillings partially fell out, so the next morning we went to a dentist to see if he could fix her up.

You should not be this excited in a dentist's office. Ha.

Bruna and I rented bikes and rode around the lake while Monica was getting her grill fixed.

 

 

This is the mountain that runs between Ipanema and Copacabana. Apartments are built right up next to the stone wall. All the apartments that face the wall better be half price.

Later that night we went to the tallest hotel on the Copacabana strip and took the elevator to the top floor.

View of Copacabana at night.

Below is a random photo to show you how struggling our hostels were. I unintentionally didn't take any real photos of the room (I guess I don't want to remember it), but I did snap this one and only shot--these thin little wooden sheets (basically pieces of paper) were holding up our mattresses. Bruna sat down and tore the thing apart. You would think she's the Hulk, but really she's just a tiny lady sitting quaintly down on her bed. Monica and I then looked under the rest of the mattresses and noticed they were all broken, too.

We paid over $30 per night each ... sad story.

Out on the town again, chilling at a bar/restaurant on the Copacabana waterfront.

The next day we decided to take a trip outside the city to a resort town called Buzios. We took the 2.5-hour bus there and then rented a buggy (pronounced boo-gie). Long story short, it ran out of gas because the gas gauge didn't function properly and we got fed up and returned it. But it was fun for the hour we had it. Monica has one photo to prove we rented it.

At one of the numerous beaches in Buzios.

Babe-cation in full effect.

Adults like to build intricate sand castles in Brazil ... a way to make money from tourists.

Notice anything strange about this photo?

We took the bus back to Rio and went to Lapa once more for the big Friday night street party. It was absolutely insane, kind of like Bourbon Street in New Orleans or Sixth Street in Austin. Pretty struggling--just a focus on drinking and partying, not live music like I'd thought. Anyway, I didn't last too long because all of a sudden I started feeling deathly ill. I didn't know if it was an effect of being around all those trashy party people or what but I couldn't stand up and I was light-headed. I took a cab back to the hostel on my own and went to bed.

That night proceeded to be one of the worst nights of my life. The following two days and nights were spent in my sick bed, the lower bunk of a six-person dorm room with no air conditioning. My new ritual was wetting my hair in the shower and then letting it dry with the breeze from the fan in the room. It was keeping me alive ... my only relief. I was worried because we had the biggest flights of our trip coming up and I wasn't sure I'd feel better in time. Fortunately, I was able to get out of bed and walk around a bit the day we left Rio.

Bruna, Monica and I went to the beach one last time and I was thankful the sun was tucked behind the clouds. I ate a piece of watermelon, which brought a slice of life back into me. Monica and Bruna went to a restaurant for lunch, but I couldn't be around the food smells, so I took a little stroll. I didn't have to go far before I ran into some live music. It was mostly an older crowd, drinking on a Sunday afternoon. The musicians played what seemed to be classic songs, both Brazilian and Italian, and everyone sang along. The microphone was passed to several of the crowd members, who initiated songs and broke down the disconnect between performer and spectator. People cried, danced, clapped and whistled--so much life and so inclusive. This is what Rio is all about. Cariocas enjoy living.

Of all the places I've been so far, Brazil is on the top of my return list. It feels like there's a mysterious underbelly to Rio that I wasn't able to penetrate in the short time I spent there. This city definitely leaves you wondering ...