Fila, fila, fila

What's a trip to Brazil without going to Rio, right? This is exactly why my fantastic friends here in Sao Paulo surprised me with a ticket to spend 24 hours in Rio. Words (especially not Portugese words) could help me express my gratitude.

We departed from Sao Paulo on a 7:30 AM flight to Rio. I could barely keep my eyes open as I tried to make my way through a sea of fashionable Paulistas at the airport while trying to figure out where our gate was located. Apparently, signs are totally optional in this airport, but we finally made to the gate, on the bus, and on the plane. Traveling with a Brazilian is great because I don't have to speak pidegon Portunol, but it was kind of scary blindly following her through Rio all weekend. Anyhow, after a quick 45 minute flight, we landed in Rio. Again, making our way through a maze of unmarked hallways, staircases, and check points, we finally exited and found a bus that would drop us off in Copacabana Beach. The ride was interesting because I was able to see the favellas (slums) covered in litter and grafitti, as well as the old concrete buildings that cover the city. Rio is similar to Sao Paulo in that large, concrete high-rise building cover the land, but it has a tropical and more relaxed feel. They say people in Sao Paulo work, and people in Rio work out.

Once we arrived in Copacabana, we walked a few blocks to our "4-star hotel," though I'm not sure exactly who gave it four stars. I reminded myself it was only for a night and held my tongue as I looked at the gray walls and tried to ignore the smell of cigarette smoke that seemed to be saturated in the linens. After freshening up, we decided to take advantage of the sun and walk along the boardwalk at Copacabana. I gawked at the people walking around in bathing suits or speedos with no cover-ups or shoes. Tall tropical trees line the streets in front of very old apartment buildings, and I imagined this might be what Miami looked like in the 40s or 50s, but with less attractive people. Along the boardwalk/catwalk, tan men and women of all ages, shapes and sizes strolled in the sun occasionally stopping at the kiosks for a drink (chopp - draft beer or coconut water) or a bite to eat. In addition to seeing the famous beaches, visiting the Christ and the Pao de Acucar were the other two touristic points I felt I had to see.

We took a cab to the place where you can catch the train to go up the mountain to see the Christ and I was surprised to see literally hundreds of people milling around the station. There were vendors, taxi cab drivers and tour vans shouting their offers to up the mountain, and tourists trying to get in line to buy train tickets. The ominous line was a sign of things to come and "fila" would become the word of the day. I got in line and my friend found out that the first available ticket would be for a train departing 2 hours later! Instead, she negotiated intensely with a tour van driver to give us the same price as the train and take us to both vista points. We packed into a van with 12 other tourists (none of which were American) and headed up the curvy road to the Christ. The drive should have taken at least 20 minutes, but our driver did not brake at ANY curve in the road. The view from the first stop, Helipoint, was spectacular because you could see how all of the neighborhoods in the city were built around the mountains and in the valleys of the land. You could also see the Christ, and the clouds that threatened to cover it. We decided to only take a few pictures of the view, not the wild monkeys, and continue on the journey to the Christ.

Again, at break neck speeds, our van sped up the road until the driver was forced to stop in the fila of cars and vans that were also headed to the top. Despite our protests, the driver decided walking to the next point would be faster. We followed the rest of the tourists up the road and saw another massive fila. I'm not sure why I was surprised. Where did I expect the hundreds of people we saw at the train station in the bottom were going? I got in line, and my friend continued walking to figure out what exactly we would be waiting for. Pretending she was lost and looking for someone, my made a HUGE cut in line, sent for me and explained there was another van we would have to take to get to the Christ. The driver had neglected to tell us there would be another fila and van ride to get to the Christ. The number of people waiting was unbelievable. I heard people remark that it was vacation time and lots of Americanos (which Brazilians pronounce snidely with a long "cuh" sound on the second to last syllable) were visiting. I turned to defend my self and in pigeon portunol replied, "Muito Brasileiro, nao Americano aqui!"

The next van ride was shorter and the driver took the curves even faster, but we finally made it to the Christ. It was extremely windy and we could barely make our way through the swarms of people. We took a few photos and almost fell over tourists sprawled on the ground while trying to take a complete shot of a family with the enormous Christ in the background. The clouds were coming in, but we could still enjoy the spectacular views of Ipanema, Copacabana, downtown and the Atlantic ocean. We waited in another fila to take another van down to the bottom of the hill and saw the crowds still lined up to come to the Christ. The whole adventure took three hours and I never would have been able to do it without my Brazilian friend. Our timing could not have been better because as we looked back up at the Christ from the van, the clouds had covered his head.