So, despite the paranoid person that lives inside my head doing everything he could to stop me coming here, I’m in Rio de Janeiro. A city that has one of the most lazy names ever.
“What’s that blue watery thing?”
“What month is it?”
“Shall we make a town here?”
“Yeh, I guess.”
“What shall we call it?”
“Dunno… River of January?”
I know that deep down I was procrastinating in Curitiba. I could’ve travelled here directly from Foz do Iguaçu, but it was convenient to stop there and convinced myself that I was just doing it to avoid a nigh-on 24-hour bus journey. But really, I know that I was just avoiding coming here for another day or two. And on Thursday night, when I began the 13-hour journey from Curitiba, I was weirdly happy ever time I looked at my watch to see it was earlier than I thought it was. Stupid, really. If I didn’t want to come here, I shouldn’t have bothered. But, fuck, it’s Rio; I couldn’t not visit Rio while I’m down here, could I?
I got a cab from the bus station, through the outskirts of the city in the morning rush hour (or, if this is like other big South American cities, the constantly busy roads), and, well, it doesn’t look like Rio. But then we went through a long tunnel, and suddenly, things seemed a bit nicer. A decent-sized lagoon with people jogging around it, and oh! there’s Jesus on top of a hill.
A good amount of sleep at the hotel later, and it’s late afternoon, and I’m ready for my first steps on the pavements of Rio. Wallet, camera, and watch all safely back at the hotel, I walked the two blocks to Ipanema beach. It was cloudy, so, not much to see down there, really. I bought some Havaianas to replace my on-their-last-legs Muji flip flops. Very comfy they are too.
Anyway. Tomorrow I’ll do something more interesting hopefully, and in lieu of any interesting words in this blog post, I’ll leave you with this wonderful song by Michael Nesmith.