Showing posts with label Brazil. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Brazil. Show all posts
Saturday, August 27, 2011
18th August: Hanggliding over Rio
The day started early with a stroll up and down Copacabana (I was only the second palest guy on the beach, for the record, although Clem noted that I was probably the least muscle-bound). After breakfast, we walked down from Copacabana to Ipanema, paddling in the impressively warm water. We went as far as post 9, allegedly the hang-out for the beautiful people (not sure whether this is enforced; at least no one evicted us during the five minutes we spent there).
After a sandwich in the park, fending off an army of hostile pigeons, it was time for hanggliding (my birthday present from Clem -- thank you). I had called earlier in the morning, but the wind was dangerously strong. After lunch, apparently, the wind had changed and conditions were perfect. Still felt pretty blustery to me. Anyway, we caught a taxi over to the landing area (the driver understood what I meant by stretching out my arms and making hanggliding sounds, apparently, after my attempted pronunciation of the name of the beach proved incomprehensible). There we were met by my co-pilot, Rui Marra. I was mainly attracted by the name of the agency, Superfly, but it turns out Rui is a bit of a legend (we found this out online, he was very modest). Brazilian hanggliding champ several times over, this is only his hobby; his main job is psychology, studying fear and stress management (spot the connection?). He also takes kids from the favelas up flying to help them deal with their traumatic backgrounds.
I was pretty relaxed for the most part, but there were three moments when I felt somewhat less than chilled. First, when looking up from the beach at the rocky outcrop 800 metres up from which that I was about to jump (before I learnt that you keep running, as jumping slows you down).
[first experimentation with photos, more coming]
Second, when we got to the top of the mountain and I made the mistake of peering over the edge (as Clem laughed at me). And third, as I was being strapped up to the hangglider and it became apparent that we weren´t doing any more practice takeoffs but were actually about to run off into midair. By then everything is happening too quickly to flip out and I´m running at the edge, running off the edge, airborne, hit by a sudden surge of panic. But for only a second, then it´s just exhilaration, marvelling at the view and how smooth and surprisingly relaxing it feels to be flying 800 metres over Rio.
As we flew, Rui positioned the hangglider so I could pout at the camera with the spectacular scenery in the background (first Christ Redeemer, then Sugar Loaf). We flew out to sea, then turned back into the beach. At this point Rui said, "I´m going to release your legs, don´t worry." He did, I worried. Just hanging by my shoulders suddenly felt a lot less secure. Then we pick up speed as we swoop into the beach, and Rui lifts the hangglider as we´re within touching distance and I´m supposed to start walking but somehow end up just flopping in the sand, with my dignity tangled up in the hangglider´s struts. Thankfully Clem hasn´t yet made it down from the top to laugh at me, but she will do once she sees the video. Obviously I decided to shell out the extra to get the photos and video, although while I was captivated watching myself on camera my legs were being savaged by a horde of sandflies. The recovery of the 20 chunks taken out of my flesh was an ongoing saga, my over-reaction to which amused Clem greatly. 10 days later and I seem to be alive, with the bites finally faded.
We finished up the afternoon walking back up Ipanema, then taking the cab north to where we´re staying for our last three days in Rio, near Lapa. After finding out that "kitchen access" doesn´t actually include cooking, we went out for dinner. We happened to bump into a few people (a couple of Canadians, and a Brazilian guy who had studied with them in Ottawa) whom we had just met in the reception of our previous hostel, and accepted their kind invitation to join them for dinner. Also with them was the Brazilian guy´s aunt, a lawyer who was born in the favelas and gave us a fascinating lesson (translated by her nephew) on the city, how the favelas were being pacified (although there were hundreds that were still dangerous), and why some people were even moving back into the "pacified communities", attracted by cheap prices, free (stolen) electricity, and amazing views from the hills.
After a sandwich in the park, fending off an army of hostile pigeons, it was time for hanggliding (my birthday present from Clem -- thank you). I had called earlier in the morning, but the wind was dangerously strong. After lunch, apparently, the wind had changed and conditions were perfect. Still felt pretty blustery to me. Anyway, we caught a taxi over to the landing area (the driver understood what I meant by stretching out my arms and making hanggliding sounds, apparently, after my attempted pronunciation of the name of the beach proved incomprehensible). There we were met by my co-pilot, Rui Marra. I was mainly attracted by the name of the agency, Superfly, but it turns out Rui is a bit of a legend (we found this out online, he was very modest). Brazilian hanggliding champ several times over, this is only his hobby; his main job is psychology, studying fear and stress management (spot the connection?). He also takes kids from the favelas up flying to help them deal with their traumatic backgrounds.
I was pretty relaxed for the most part, but there were three moments when I felt somewhat less than chilled. First, when looking up from the beach at the rocky outcrop 800 metres up from which that I was about to jump (before I learnt that you keep running, as jumping slows you down).
[first experimentation with photos, more coming]
Second, when we got to the top of the mountain and I made the mistake of peering over the edge (as Clem laughed at me). And third, as I was being strapped up to the hangglider and it became apparent that we weren´t doing any more practice takeoffs but were actually about to run off into midair. By then everything is happening too quickly to flip out and I´m running at the edge, running off the edge, airborne, hit by a sudden surge of panic. But for only a second, then it´s just exhilaration, marvelling at the view and how smooth and surprisingly relaxing it feels to be flying 800 metres over Rio.
As we flew, Rui positioned the hangglider so I could pout at the camera with the spectacular scenery in the background (first Christ Redeemer, then Sugar Loaf). We flew out to sea, then turned back into the beach. At this point Rui said, "I´m going to release your legs, don´t worry." He did, I worried. Just hanging by my shoulders suddenly felt a lot less secure. Then we pick up speed as we swoop into the beach, and Rui lifts the hangglider as we´re within touching distance and I´m supposed to start walking but somehow end up just flopping in the sand, with my dignity tangled up in the hangglider´s struts. Thankfully Clem hasn´t yet made it down from the top to laugh at me, but she will do once she sees the video. Obviously I decided to shell out the extra to get the photos and video, although while I was captivated watching myself on camera my legs were being savaged by a horde of sandflies. The recovery of the 20 chunks taken out of my flesh was an ongoing saga, my over-reaction to which amused Clem greatly. 10 days later and I seem to be alive, with the bites finally faded.
We finished up the afternoon walking back up Ipanema, then taking the cab north to where we´re staying for our last three days in Rio, near Lapa. After finding out that "kitchen access" doesn´t actually include cooking, we went out for dinner. We happened to bump into a few people (a couple of Canadians, and a Brazilian guy who had studied with them in Ottawa) whom we had just met in the reception of our previous hostel, and accepted their kind invitation to join them for dinner. Also with them was the Brazilian guy´s aunt, a lawyer who was born in the favelas and gave us a fascinating lesson (translated by her nephew) on the city, how the favelas were being pacified (although there were hundreds that were still dangerous), and why some people were even moving back into the "pacified communities", attracted by cheap prices, free (stolen) electricity, and amazing views from the hills.
Monday, August 22, 2011
14th-15th August: Vol JJ 4743 pour Rio de Janeiro
We had a final stroll around the city on our last day. Luckily we arrived in time to enter the Cathedral, as another group had just knocked on the door; not sure we would have thought about it. It was beautiful, the interior was in stone and only the details inside the chapels were in gold, which made it really imposing (et plus propice au recueillement selon moi que l'Eglise Saint-François).
We arrived at the airport quite early and tried to get some sleep before our 4 a.m. flight to Rio. The seats were not at all comfy, so John just slept on the floor. Classy. Not the best schedule, but in John's defense it did save us a day compared to the bus.
The bus ride to the center of Rio was very interesting. We then understood the guidebook's comments about crazy drivers. I managed to fall asleep after the passage on the elevated highway was over (high speed on the turns of an elevated highway gives some adrenaline). Thankfully, because we were apparently close to hitting another bus... Bus drivers were not the only crazy ones on the road, taxis were not bad either, so to the extent possible we opted for the metro (it was also a good way to avoid traffic).
Unfortunately, our room at the hostel was not ready yet so we occupied the sofas and had a good two-hour sleep. Feeling slightly refreshed, we had a nice walk on Copacabana beach and came back to our hostel in Santa Teresa for a nap at about 6pm, which ended up lasting about 14 hours.
The next day, we went on a really interesting citytour. Sugar Loaf or Pao de Açucár was the first stop. It is about 400m high and as you can see from the picture, there is a quite a scenic telepheric to get there. We enjoyed the view, and in particular watching planes turning in the bay and landing at the domestic airport. We also went to the Corcovado, on which the Christ the Redeemer statue stands. The view was stunning (as was the number of photos we took). We also saw the Maracana stadium and the venue where the Carnaval competition takes place. We resisted the temptation to try on the carnaval costumes so there won't be silly pics.
We had a quick stroll back to our new hostel near Copacabana (as the other hostel had only one night of availability), picked up some pasta to cook at the hostel's kitchen (starting to be a bit more budget-conscious), and collapsed into bed at about 10.
We arrived at the airport quite early and tried to get some sleep before our 4 a.m. flight to Rio. The seats were not at all comfy, so John just slept on the floor. Classy. Not the best schedule, but in John's defense it did save us a day compared to the bus.
The bus ride to the center of Rio was very interesting. We then understood the guidebook's comments about crazy drivers. I managed to fall asleep after the passage on the elevated highway was over (high speed on the turns of an elevated highway gives some adrenaline). Thankfully, because we were apparently close to hitting another bus... Bus drivers were not the only crazy ones on the road, taxis were not bad either, so to the extent possible we opted for the metro (it was also a good way to avoid traffic).
Unfortunately, our room at the hostel was not ready yet so we occupied the sofas and had a good two-hour sleep. Feeling slightly refreshed, we had a nice walk on Copacabana beach and came back to our hostel in Santa Teresa for a nap at about 6pm, which ended up lasting about 14 hours.
The next day, we went on a really interesting citytour. Sugar Loaf or Pao de Açucár was the first stop. It is about 400m high and as you can see from the picture, there is a quite a scenic telepheric to get there. We enjoyed the view, and in particular watching planes turning in the bay and landing at the domestic airport. We also went to the Corcovado, on which the Christ the Redeemer statue stands. The view was stunning (as was the number of photos we took). We also saw the Maracana stadium and the venue where the Carnaval competition takes place. We resisted the temptation to try on the carnaval costumes so there won't be silly pics.
We had a quick stroll back to our new hostel near Copacabana (as the other hostel had only one night of availability), picked up some pasta to cook at the hostel's kitchen (starting to be a bit more budget-conscious), and collapsed into bed at about 10.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
10th-13th August: From the beauty of Maceio to the vibes of Salvador
On Wednesday we were charmed by the quiet beauty of Maceió's beach - light blue sea with nice warm sand and palm trees along the walkway. Our pousada was luckily just one block away. Slightly less impressive were the burgers we had at Don Buerger. Despite its promising name and the recommendation of the lonely planet, it was not even close to Cool Bun (Pierre´s restaurant in Brussels).
The following day, we visited a school (or Education Center) for children of the nearby favelas, created by Yves and Wanda (two friends of my aunt and uncle) 20 years ago, when they were already around 60 years old. We were touched by the care given to these children. Their aim is primarily to provide them with a good education, but they are also well fed and supported by a nurse (children are sent to the hospital when necessary), a psychologist, and a social worker. The studies are organised by une directrice des etudes. Their goal is to send some kids to university and others to specialised schools where they can learn a job. This year, they managed to send two of their students to university. Unfortunately, a few of their children dropped out of school, attracted by the money they could make as drug dealers. A nice touch is that each birthday is celebrated, which is a great change as some used to not know their birthdates or would not anyway celebrate their birthday. You used to have to pay to register a newborn so many of them did not have a birth certificate.
We then caught a 10 hour night bus to Salvador, arriving at 4 am on Friday. No spills this time but a few thrills: a snoring neighbour, a phone playing Total Eclipse of the Heart several times over on full volume, turbo air-con, and bright lights that would wake us abruptly every time the bus stopped. We arrived very fresh around 4 am at the bus station and caught a bus towards the historic centre of Salvador, the Pelourinho.
We were unlucky with the first hostel as they only told us that it was closed once we had reached the top of the seven-floor staircase, not much fun with our rucksacks... We stumbled to the nearest pousada, a few blocks away, dropped our bags and began our visit of the Pelourinho, to the rhythm of the drums (in particular of the school Olodum) and of Capoiera dancers.
We hired a guide for a city tour, who took us to places we probably would not have gone on our own (cowards that we are) as the lonely planet warns that if you're going to be pickpocketed or mugged in Brazil, Salvador is likely to be the place. We enjoyed a great view of the bay from the Santo Antonio fort and I had lots of fun in the Elevador Lacerda (although I was mildly reassured by the OTIS brand on the elevator). The baroque church of San Francis has a beautiful collection of azulejos, and the interior decoration in gold is quite impressive, but slightly overwhelming.
The Pelourinho has a lot of charming coloured little houses and is fairly tourist friendly. We couldn´t decide whether the armed police everywhere are worrying or reassuring. The lower city (or what we saw of it), however, is more decayed, although apparently the city has started a redevelopment project.
We also paid tribute to Michael Jackson, who filmed part of its video They don't care about us in the Pelourinho. The guy whose shop MJ emerged from very proudly showed us the video, pausing at the appropriate times of course.
Probably the best part of the trip to Salvador so far was the Bale Folclorico da Bahia, a spectacular mix of percussion, singing, and dance (and fire-eating!) that left even the rhythmically-challenged John impressed.
One more day in Salvador, then on to Rio.
The following day, we visited a school (or Education Center) for children of the nearby favelas, created by Yves and Wanda (two friends of my aunt and uncle) 20 years ago, when they were already around 60 years old. We were touched by the care given to these children. Their aim is primarily to provide them with a good education, but they are also well fed and supported by a nurse (children are sent to the hospital when necessary), a psychologist, and a social worker. The studies are organised by une directrice des etudes. Their goal is to send some kids to university and others to specialised schools where they can learn a job. This year, they managed to send two of their students to university. Unfortunately, a few of their children dropped out of school, attracted by the money they could make as drug dealers. A nice touch is that each birthday is celebrated, which is a great change as some used to not know their birthdates or would not anyway celebrate their birthday. You used to have to pay to register a newborn so many of them did not have a birth certificate.
We then caught a 10 hour night bus to Salvador, arriving at 4 am on Friday. No spills this time but a few thrills: a snoring neighbour, a phone playing Total Eclipse of the Heart several times over on full volume, turbo air-con, and bright lights that would wake us abruptly every time the bus stopped. We arrived very fresh around 4 am at the bus station and caught a bus towards the historic centre of Salvador, the Pelourinho.
We were unlucky with the first hostel as they only told us that it was closed once we had reached the top of the seven-floor staircase, not much fun with our rucksacks... We stumbled to the nearest pousada, a few blocks away, dropped our bags and began our visit of the Pelourinho, to the rhythm of the drums (in particular of the school Olodum) and of Capoiera dancers.
We hired a guide for a city tour, who took us to places we probably would not have gone on our own (cowards that we are) as the lonely planet warns that if you're going to be pickpocketed or mugged in Brazil, Salvador is likely to be the place. We enjoyed a great view of the bay from the Santo Antonio fort and I had lots of fun in the Elevador Lacerda (although I was mildly reassured by the OTIS brand on the elevator). The baroque church of San Francis has a beautiful collection of azulejos, and the interior decoration in gold is quite impressive, but slightly overwhelming.
The Pelourinho has a lot of charming coloured little houses and is fairly tourist friendly. We couldn´t decide whether the armed police everywhere are worrying or reassuring. The lower city (or what we saw of it), however, is more decayed, although apparently the city has started a redevelopment project.
We also paid tribute to Michael Jackson, who filmed part of its video They don't care about us in the Pelourinho. The guy whose shop MJ emerged from very proudly showed us the video, pausing at the appropriate times of course.
Probably the best part of the trip to Salvador so far was the Bale Folclorico da Bahia, a spectacular mix of percussion, singing, and dance (and fire-eating!) that left even the rhythmically-challenged John impressed.
One more day in Salvador, then on to Rio.
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