Monday, July 23, 2007
I went to Brazil. I went to Rio de Janeiro. I had never dreamed of going there, or even entertained the idea, but I was given the great opportunity to go and I will never say no to traveling. Especially a foreign country. Especially a different hemisphere.
Words often escape me when I try to convey the sheer beauty of the landscape, and culture of Rio. It’s a city situated between mountains, beaches, and sky, watched over by a 38meter tall art deco sculpture of Christ, atop one of the tallest peaks in the city. You can see Christ the Redeemer (Cristo Redentor, a.k.a Christ-y Christ: a name given to the statue by my traveling partner) from almost anywhere in the city, weather permitting. Even for those not terribly religious, the scale and presence of the sculpture is moving. I found it more moving from afar than I did up close. It’s beautiful, and impressive up close, but seeing the sculpture begin to peak through the morning cloud cover, the sun capturing the slight glint of the base, the statue glowing above the largest favela in Rio…….. it’s mesmerizing. Every morning I took in the sight for just a few moments.
I thought spending a week in the city would give me plenty of time to do everything, but I didn’t even come close. I could have stayed solely in Rio for three months, and still not have been able to experience the layers of celebration and life that Brazilians live everyday. Not even for a minute.
The dancing alone…..
One night, after my friend’s show, we went to Lapa with some local friends that were from Sao Paulo but came to Rio to hang out. A few of our night’s hosts were from Rio and knew of a concert that we would hopefully be able to go to, the group was very popular. We got into Lapa around 1:30am and the streets were FULL of people. Everywhere. Live Samba, modern and more traditional, was pouring into the streets as lines formed 20 people deep outside of almost every club in the area. The huge show we wanted to go see was sold out, so we headed to a samba club that was recommended to us called ‘Democraticus’. Turns out this place is known for its more traditional samba and it’s housed in this beautiful turn of the century hall. Walking in, I knew instantly that this was exactly what I had hoped Brazil would be. There was an 8-piece band lined up on the stage, as people of all ages and styles danced and sweat all night long. It was wintertime in Rio so none of the fans were on, but it was HOT. You were sweating before you even danced. It was 78 degrees outside, if not hotter.
The whole group took in the beauty of it. People were dancing. Like, really dancing. We don’t do that in America. We bob heads and make sure we’re cool. Beautiful women in form fitting skirts and dresses danced as if it was their job. The man to watch was a short Pablo Picasso look alike, probably in his 60’s, that danced with these 20 year old girls all night. And the girls wanted to dance with him, because it was more effortless than walking to him. He danced with each girl differently, giving slight hand gestures and body movements that determined where and what they did; and they all followed.
And it wasn’t just him. It was everyone. People wearing khaki’s that look like they just got out of work, dancing with girls that were shy and wearing t shirts. The combination of the masterful dance, mixed with the inexperienced, just the fact that everyone in that place was there to celebrate life with music and dance…. I got teary. And then I started dancing. I danced all night. I danced with Brazilians, and then I danced with the person I came with. And it didn’t matter that we were undoubtedly terrible, because we were in Rio, there was awesome music playing, and more than anything we were alive and happy, and why not celebrate? At 4:30am, our hosts were leaving, and we were going to stay, but realized we should probably head back.
I woke up in the morning bleary-eyed, though not from drinking. I barely drank the night before. It was like someone had injected me with a jolt of life, and it was a drug I had never tasted before. I try and experience as much as I can while I’m here, but this was so different, and I still can’t figure out why. I dance. Hell, I went dancing twice this past weekend, but not dancing like that.
The other thing that made me so happy, besides being in Brazil in general, was going out to eat. Or going to any sort of store. I worked in restaurants for a long time, and I lo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ve food and going out to eat, but I so frequently get bummed out because service is often so shitty. I can deal with casual and probably prefer it most of the time, and I never complain unless something is really fucked, but most people in retail and in restaurants here treat their job as temporary. Because it most of the time is. In Brazil, at least in Rio, service, even in cafes or hole-in-the-wall restaurants, is fucking spectacular. Everyone is important, everyone is a queen, and everyone gets respect, even the servers. Of course, this could be a gross generalization, but I did not have a single meal in all the 20+ meals there where my silverware wasn’t replaced between courses, where my water glass wasn’t filled without me asking, where my wine or beer wasn’t replaced instantly. Seriously, to me that was heaven. I actually enjoyed myself and didn’t have to think about anything.
Oh, and in the Choppe houses in Rio (sort of like brew pubs), keep replacing your beer until you tell them not to. And the beer is like a $1 a glass.
This is a dramatization of what my inside excitement looks like on the outside.
Moving on the floor now babe you're a bird of paradise
Cherry ice cream smile I suppose it's very nice
With a step to your left and a flick to the right you catch that mirror way out west
You know you're something special and you look like you're the best
Her name is Rio and she dances on the sand
Just like that river twisting through a dusty land
And when she shines she really shows you all she can
Oh Rio, Rio dance across the Rio Grande
I've seen you on the beach and I've seen you on TV
Two of a billion stars it means so much to me
Like a birthday or a pretty view
But then I'm sure that you know it's just for you
Her name is Rio and she dances on the sand
Just like that river twisting through a dusty land
And when she shines she really shows you all she can
Oh Rio, Rio dance across the Rio Grande
Hey now woo look at that did she nearly run you down
At the end of the drive the lawmen arrive
You make me feel alive, alive alive
I'll take my chance cause luck is on my side or something
I know what you're thinking I tell you something I know what you're thinking
Her name is Rio and she dances on the sand
Just like that river twists across a dusty land
And when she shines she really shows you all she can
Oh Rio, Rio dance across the Rio Grand
Her name is Rio she don't need to understand
And I might find her if I'm looking like I can
Oh Rio, Rio hear them shout across the land
From mountains in the north down to the Rio Grande
Do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do
Words often escape me when I try to convey the sheer beauty of the landscape, and culture of Rio. It’s a city situated between mountains, beaches, and sky, watched over by a 38meter tall art deco sculpture of Christ, atop one of the tallest peaks in the city. You can see Christ the Redeemer (Cristo Redentor, a.k.a Christ-y Christ: a name given to the statue by my traveling partner) from almost anywhere in the city, weather permitting. Even for those not terribly religious, the scale and presence of the sculpture is moving. I found it more moving from afar than I did up close. It’s beautiful, and impressive up close, but seeing the sculpture begin to peak through the morning cloud cover, the sun capturing the slight glint of the base, the statue glowing above the largest favela in Rio…….. it’s mesmerizing. Every morning I took in the sight for just a few moments.
I thought spending a week in the city would give me plenty of time to do everything, but I didn’t even come close. I could have stayed solely in Rio for three months, and still not have been able to experience the layers of celebration and life that Brazilians live everyday. Not even for a minute.
The dancing alone…..
One night, after my friend’s show, we went to Lapa with some local friends that were from Sao Paulo but came to Rio to hang out. A few of our night’s hosts were from Rio and knew of a concert that we would hopefully be able to go to, the group was very popular. We got into Lapa around 1:30am and the streets were FULL of people. Everywhere. Live Samba, modern and more traditional, was pouring into the streets as lines formed 20 people deep outside of almost every club in the area. The huge show we wanted to go see was sold out, so we headed to a samba club that was recommended to us called ‘Democraticus’. Turns out this place is known for its more traditional samba and it’s housed in this beautiful turn of the century hall. Walking in, I knew instantly that this was exactly what I had hoped Brazil would be. There was an 8-piece band lined up on the stage, as people of all ages and styles danced and sweat all night long. It was wintertime in Rio so none of the fans were on, but it was HOT. You were sweating before you even danced. It was 78 degrees outside, if not hotter.
The whole group took in the beauty of it. People were dancing. Like, really dancing. We don’t do that in America. We bob heads and make sure we’re cool. Beautiful women in form fitting skirts and dresses danced as if it was their job. The man to watch was a short Pablo Picasso look alike, probably in his 60’s, that danced with these 20 year old girls all night. And the girls wanted to dance with him, because it was more effortless than walking to him. He danced with each girl differently, giving slight hand gestures and body movements that determined where and what they did; and they all followed.
And it wasn’t just him. It was everyone. People wearing khaki’s that look like they just got out of work, dancing with girls that were shy and wearing t shirts. The combination of the masterful dance, mixed with the inexperienced, just the fact that everyone in that place was there to celebrate life with music and dance…. I got teary. And then I started dancing. I danced all night. I danced with Brazilians, and then I danced with the person I came with. And it didn’t matter that we were undoubtedly terrible, because we were in Rio, there was awesome music playing, and more than anything we were alive and happy, and why not celebrate? At 4:30am, our hosts were leaving, and we were going to stay, but realized we should probably head back.
I woke up in the morning bleary-eyed, though not from drinking. I barely drank the night before. It was like someone had injected me with a jolt of life, and it was a drug I had never tasted before. I try and experience as much as I can while I’m here, but this was so different, and I still can’t figure out why. I dance. Hell, I went dancing twice this past weekend, but not dancing like that.
The other thing that made me so happy, besides being in Brazil in general, was going out to eat. Or going to any sort of store. I worked in restaurants for a long time, and I lo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ve food and going out to eat, but I so frequently get bummed out because service is often so shitty. I can deal with casual and probably prefer it most of the time, and I never complain unless something is really fucked, but most people in retail and in restaurants here treat their job as temporary. Because it most of the time is. In Brazil, at least in Rio, service, even in cafes or hole-in-the-wall restaurants, is fucking spectacular. Everyone is important, everyone is a queen, and everyone gets respect, even the servers. Of course, this could be a gross generalization, but I did not have a single meal in all the 20+ meals there where my silverware wasn’t replaced between courses, where my water glass wasn’t filled without me asking, where my wine or beer wasn’t replaced instantly. Seriously, to me that was heaven. I actually enjoyed myself and didn’t have to think about anything.
Oh, and in the Choppe houses in Rio (sort of like brew pubs), keep replacing your beer until you tell them not to. And the beer is like a $1 a glass.
This is a dramatization of what my inside excitement looks like on the outside.
Moving on the floor now babe you're a bird of paradise
Cherry ice cream smile I suppose it's very nice
With a step to your left and a flick to the right you catch that mirror way out west
You know you're something special and you look like you're the best
Her name is Rio and she dances on the sand
Just like that river twisting through a dusty land
And when she shines she really shows you all she can
Oh Rio, Rio dance across the Rio Grande
I've seen you on the beach and I've seen you on TV
Two of a billion stars it means so much to me
Like a birthday or a pretty view
But then I'm sure that you know it's just for you
Her name is Rio and she dances on the sand
Just like that river twisting through a dusty land
And when she shines she really shows you all she can
Oh Rio, Rio dance across the Rio Grande
Hey now woo look at that did she nearly run you down
At the end of the drive the lawmen arrive
You make me feel alive, alive alive
I'll take my chance cause luck is on my side or something
I know what you're thinking I tell you something I know what you're thinking
Her name is Rio and she dances on the sand
Just like that river twists across a dusty land
And when she shines she really shows you all she can
Oh Rio, Rio dance across the Rio Grand
Her name is Rio she don't need to understand
And I might find her if I'm looking like I can
Oh Rio, Rio hear them shout across the land
From mountains in the north down to the Rio Grande
Do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do
posted by Sarah RabDAU at
12:28 PM
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