And she dances in the sand

Yes, I could have gone with the obvious song but it isn't even about this place.

This place is Rio de Janeiro.

This is a place that is beyond words.
The city is magnificent; it is a mix of art deco, Brutalism and modern architecture. The white stone buildings from the 1930s don't seem out of place beside the updated ones from last year. The beaches stretch on forever. They are never crowded and always welcoming. The people are kind and friendly. Nobody seems to have the body hang ups we do; men and women of all ages, all shapes and sizes walk around the beach areas wearing whatever they feel.

 Copacabana at night.

There are favelas here, very poor areas. They are colourful as anything and densely packed. The houses are generally unfinished and made of scraps. The common understanding is that living in a favela isn't permanent; it is a place to live while you're moving up, so you don't need a proper roof. A proper roof shows that you've resigned to this fate and are done living.
The favelas are numerous and scattered all around Rio. They are serviced by the city including public transportation. I did not go on a favela tour because it really felt like exploiting poverty to me. I was uncomfortable with this idea and instead went on a city tour. More on that in a bit.

On our first half day in Rio, I tried to catch up on some sleep. This plan was foiled, however, when there was construction right outside my hotel window. I should mention that Rio is a construction site. All of it is under construction. It is 30 degrees so people are literally sleeping on the sites instead of working - except on the site right outside of my window which seems to be the only active site in the entire city. Ugh. So instead, I did some updating on here.

The second day in Rio, I wandered the city with one of the people on my tour. As with all of my adventures, I had a how is this my life? moment.
We were sitting on Copacabana beach, drinking coconut water out of a coconut.

James enjoyed it too.

We had to say goodbye to Santi, our fantastic tour guide. 

Santi tells us that Santiago (his full name) means James.

Santi and James have a moment.

As a last group thing, we go on a city tour. First stop: Cristo Redentor, aka Giant Jesus (thanks, Steve).

It is impossible to take a bad picture of Giant Jesus Christ the Redeemer.

Seriously impossible.

Fun fact: Giant Jesus Cristo Redentor has escalators that go up and down the side of the mountain. 

We were looking forward to taking the tram that runs along a track, but it wasn't available for reasons that weren't explained. Oh well.

Along with Giant Jesus Christ the Redeemer, there are gobs and gobs of tourists. Each of them is doing the Jesus Pose. When asked by a coworker if James too would be doing the Jesus Pose, my answer was "Why do you think I'm going to Rio de Janeiro?"

Pretty much what the whole trip was for.

The views from Corcovado are stunning. There was some low lying cloud, which made the pictures even better, I think.

Are you ready for some futboll?

After Giant Jesus Christ the Redeemer, we visited the Metropolitan Cathedral of Saint Sebastian.

I am quite fond of churches, as regular readers (Mom and Nana) know. I'm not very religious but I appreciate beautiful things and history, two things churches of various denominations are chock full of.

The Catholic church is unlike any I've seen.

It is modern, for one. On the inside it is entirely circular. There is seating for 5,000 people. 

There are three doors to the church, all of equal width and importance. Our guide told us that initially it was intended as one door for Catholics, one door for Protestants and one for "voodoo", as he called it. They all empty in to the main cathedral, intending for everyone to feel welcome.

There are four magnificent stained glass windows that meet above the nave. The nave is fairly simple, given the scale of the church.

Reflected in the PetroBras building. Also, nuns!

Next up: Escadaria Selarón and Pão de Açúcar.

Big Island

On our first day in Ilha Grande, it pissed rain. Pissed. Non-stop pissing.
Sure, it was warm but it was pissing rain.
We were all getting a little bummed at this point because it had been raining or drizzling for about three days and we hadn't been dry in almost as long. A lot of people had really damp backpacks.
It's not fun.
The boat ride there was less than ideal, especially given the weather. It is raining and we're on a speed boat for 45 minutes. The only safety consideration seems to be pool noodles.

I was getting a little bummed in a really childish way.
There was a mess up at the fancy hostel hotel and I was put in a four share room. Which is good enough, whatever. It's a bed. I don't care.
The four share has two double beds in the main room and a bunk bed in a side room.
Take a guess where I was.
In the pissing rain.
On the day before my birthday.
With no internet access.
Oh yes, this was shaping up to be a great birthday.
I took a deep breath or 12 and made a promise to myself: regardless of rain, I was going to a beach tomorrow. Period.

We went out for lunch and joy of joys, there was a TV showing soccer football in the restaurant. We haven't properly seen TV for many days at this point and had no internet at the hotel. We were alll riveted by the sport, even if we don't watch.
And then the power went down.
On the whole island.
Generators soon kicked in and stayed on for well over 24 hours and all I can think is, I survived #darkNL. This is nothing.

At breakfast the next morning, the sun is peaking through. Yay!
There is no rain for the first time in three days. Yay!
It is about 21 degrees at 1000! Yay!
And people are bitching already about the weather.
And I lost my cool.
"Today is my birthday," I said. "And my birthday wish is to not hear a single person complain about the weather for24 hours. If I wanted to hear people complain about the weather, I would have saved myself a fuck ton of money and stayed home."
That worked.
I don't go to places to visit the weather. One, that's a waste of time and money. Two, weather is unpredictable especially that Brazil is right in the bulls eye for one of the largest El Ninos in history. Three, rain forest.

We started out on Preta Praia, a black stand beach. This was wonderful but it wasn't exactly a "go in the ocean" kind of beach. It was lovely to look at. We even found the ruins of a leper colony/high security prison.
Along the way back to town, I spotted the friendliest ashtray I think I've ever seen.

 We took our time heading back because it was a nice day out. The trail signs mentioned acueducto, and of course we were going to go there.

It was quite different than the aqueduct I'm used to.

This aqueduct was built in the late 1800s using sand and whale fat as mortar.

We decided to find a taxi boat to take us to Lopes Mendes because the two hour hike was going to be treacherous on account of the rain.
The water taxi took us to Praia das Palmas, about a half hour hike to Lopes Mendes. There is a trail and it is basically all mud. Solid and walkable, sure. Uphill and downhill. A good trail through the rain forest.
The trail was busy. There were many people headed to Lopes Mendes, including the Crying Lady.
Many of us had lost our footing on the slippery trail. It was to be expected. We regained our footing and carried on. We were all getting dirty with the orange-ish mud but it didn't matter.  It did matter to the Crying Lady.
She was about 40 and had enough of all of this mud and slipping. She lost her footing on a downhill portion - did not fall - and clasped on to her boyfriend. For the remainder of the hike, she bawled like a toddler. Crocodile tears too!
We dubbed that section "The Crying Zone."

I changed into my swimsuit and we spent a couple of hours jumping in the bathwater warm waves of the Atlantic Ocean.
This was both exhausting and exhilarating. Best birthday adventure so far.
We headed back in to town for dinner.

People apparently wanted to make a big deal of my birthday.
For me, the trip is a big deal, and it is big deal enough. Nothing more needs to be done.

Caipirinha

We went out to dinner at this really fantastic place. It was casual enough but a bit dressy too. Perfect.

I'm not one to take pictures of my food, but that's a filet mignon. It was less than $20.

Santi, our wonderful guide, got me a cake!

We couldn't get all of the sparklers lit at once.

I knew this restaurant was fantastic because it had load bearing flags.

 Not exactly a Red Ensign.

Afterwards, a couple of us went to a nightclub on the end of the beach because that's apparently the right thing to do when you're 35.

It was full of backpackers.

Yup, too old for this crap.

of bugs and marmosets

Day two in Paraty has us going on a jeep tour! Yay! Exploring!

Cachaça is an alcohol made from distilled sugar cane juice. It tastes like gasoline white death maybe rum? I'm not sure. I didn't really care for it. It is the alcohol component of caipirinha, Brazil's national drink (more on those to come).

I should point out that it has been overcast and a bit drizzly for a couple of days, but today seems not too bad. It was about 27 degrees, so it was warm and a bit muggy. As we were wandering in the rain forest, this meant bugs. We were eaten alive by what we initially believed to be mosquitoes but soon found out were not. They bites were quickly red and sore and prone to bleeding and itching. They weren't dangerous, we were told. Just annoying. Oh. Okay then.

 Marmoset! There were many playing in the trees.

I really had no idea bananas grow like this.

We visited two cachaça distilleries and learned about the area.

The Portuguese used Paraty as a port town to export gold and later coffee. The farmers in the area grew sugar cane and as boredom set in figured out that they can turn it in to alcohol.

They started off farming the sugar cane higher up (as the Portuguese were better at taxing and coercion than they were at actual work and higher = harder to get) and as the land became over farmed, it left great green patches all over. The hills in the Paraty area are covered in a bright green patchwork and it is really pretty to see.

 The sugar cane is harvested, juiced and then the juice is distilled. This is a pretty quick process, as the juice goes rancid fast.

 Once distilled, the juice is aged in barrels for different amounts of time. As with rum, the different woods affect the flavour. The alcohol is anywhere between 38% and 48% so it will knock you on your ass fast.

Distilleries have learned to diversify their products so they don't go bankrupt. They sell many other items, such as sweets made from the sugar cane and syrups. Some of these are pretty good.

The area around Paraty is very lush. We are treated to a couple of waterfalls, though if I'm being honest they pale in comparison to Iguassu.

This is not only a waterfall, it is apparently quite fun. Had I a change of clothes, I would have partaken in the following:

There was a line up at the top of the rock to do this! Next time.

And then the bridge.

It is well known I am less than keen on bridges. 

Especially when they look like this:

It can be made out of Brazilian hardwood all it wants, that doesn't make me like it!

This thing rocked and swayed with every step. It was also slippery on account of the rain. I took a good five minutes to cross it. Not exactly fun.

Moremosets!

You're welcome.

If the English never made it to Newfoundland

We boarded a plane to Sao Paulo. Again, at ass in the morning. Gross.
Don't get me wrong; I can understand why we're on these ass in the morning flights (so we have a whole day at the destination), but there is a difference between understanding and liking.

We're on another damn Airbus. I don't like these planes. These are usually the ones full of assholes who think taking off their shoes and socks in a small, enclosed space with other people is an acceptable behaviour. Yes, it happens on Boeings too, I'm sure, but it seems more prevalent on Airbuses.

For no particular reason at all and without any explanation, our plane is full of steam. There isn't a scent or colour to it and the crew doesn't seem particularly alarmed so I don't worry too much about it.

This persisted until after we took off. 

We arrived without incident in Sao Paulo and got on a coach for the trip to Paraty. 

Paraty is a lovely colonial town.

It's Portuguese architecture is preserved unintentionally; they did not have the money to tear it down and rebuild. The result is really beautiful. The streets are cobblestone, the buildings are white and don't look worn at all.

As can be expected, I went in to one of the three churches here.

Igreja Matriz da Nossa Senhora dos Remédios (First Church of Our Lady of the Remedies)

Brazil is predominantly Roman Catholic, by way of the Jesuits. 

I've never seen a Jesuit church before this and I was fascinated by the simplicity of it.

This church was initially the black church in Paraty. African culture still dominates in Brazil and roughly 50% of the population is black.

The people in Paraty are very nice and kind. At one point, someone told one of the sisters that she should watch her purse because it was open.

Paraty is very walkable and is open almost 24 hours. We came back from dinner around 11 pm and there were still shops open and a large number of people socializing on the street.

 per litre. Divide by 3.5.

Paraty was founded as a port city for gold. Over time, it evolved into a port city for coffee and fish. The history is very similar to Newfoundland (Portuguese came in to hoard resources, steal all the fish and then leave the place). The main difference is that the English came to Newfoundland as well and killed all the natives claimed dominion.

To round off this post, I present this without comment: