Pushing Pesos: Rio de Janeiro- Part 1 - Our untimely arrival and samba in Lapa

The terrible start:

After a change of plans Michael and I were reacquainted in Lima for a connecting flight to Rio in Brazil. The original plan was to head to Colombia next, then Venezuela. However due to the death of their late president Hugo Chavez, the country has been in turmoil. We had heard from a fellow traveller who was boasting his friends taxi was shot at as he crossed over the border. This may sound far fetched but we were not willing to take a risk. Venezuela would have to be kept for another time.

So there we were in Rio, our first destination in Brazil. Over some confusion we had learned as we landed that neither of us had booked a hostel. We arrived in the middle of the night so the situation was less than idyll. But we cracked on, opened Lonely Planet and choose a hostel. Our first stumbling block was arranging a taxi as we struggled to understand Portuguese. Although similar, our Spanish had not been that good to comprehend.

Somehow we managed and we jumped in our taxi. Even at night it was plain to see that Brazil was far more developed than its neighbouring countries. We choose a hotel in an area called Santa Theresa, a bohemian area situated on the hills of Rio. The taxi arrived at the hostel but there was no room. In a panic as it was still dark out, we pointed to the next address in the book and the taxi driver nodded. After what seemed like 10 minutes, we halted to a stop. The taxi man pointed at some building and told us we were here. We said that it could not be as it looked like a security cabin. But before we could protest to much, he was yelling at us in Portuguese, took our money, dumped our bags on the curb and drove off. He even laughed in my face as we stood there completely wet in torrential rain nearly in tears.

So we had been dumped in the middle of the night, in a strange place with all our bags, in the worse rain you could possibly imagine. We walked looking for help but we just passed deserted streets, with the odd beggar routing through bins to make us hasten our pace. Close to loosing hope we came across a five star hotel, chancing it we went in and asked for help.

Then the best thing happened, they let us use their phone and we made a reservation with a hostel in Copacabana. The driver of the hotel then offered to drive us to the hostel. One minute we were doomed and the next minute we were siting in an air conditioned Merc. We were so relieved. The nice driver was appalled by our experience and apologised and said unfortunately, such incidents were common in Rio.

Soon we rolled up on our classy drive to our not too classy hostel in the popular area of Copacabana. We were so glad to finally check in and have a hot shower!

Samba, samba, samba in crazy Lapa!

We had heard Lapa was the place to be on a Friday night. It was Saturday night but we decided to head there anyway. Using the metro line we headed to the neighbourhood of Lapa. Under its famous white arches street vendors sell alcohol and food and people fill the streets drinking and eating.

We went to one of the many plastic chair bars where groups of people sat around a chilled litre of beer, shared and drank in small glasses. In brazil beer is drank this way, it keeps the beer cold and it's more social. Here there is no such thing as pints. Settling into our beers we observe the people around us. I then look over Michaels shoulder to see a black woman pull down her pants and start peeing in the drain. Michael turned to look and saw her bum hoovering for all to see. She then started screaming when someone called something at her before walking away. Lapa has a great atmosphere but you had to keep your wits about you, there were definitely some dodgy people hanging around.

Next we went to a bar playing samba, attracted by the charismatic African lady singing, her band playing behind her. We met a friendly Brazilian who taught us samba, even Michael made an attempt before sitting back down. The energy of people dancing samba together is tantalising and one can easily get swept away.

We then took our samba to the streets. Dancing to the beat of the steel bass drums. There was the Brazilian drink Caprinha being drank all around topped up with tequila shots sold by a man on the streets. Before we knew it we were still dancing samba and it was in the early hours of the morning. When we got home Michael announced for the 100th time how much he loved brazil before finally passing out.