From Copacabana to the "Rocinho" Favela: The two faces of Rio

I had got a little tired of lying on the beach watching the Brasilian Baywatch in action and decided to brave it and head towards the (in)Famous Favelas of Rio. I was told of a tour company called "Be A Local" that organises (safe) walks across the Rocinho favela and that uses the money we pay them to rehabilitate the favela in some way.



We were picked up by our guide, a young gutsy brasilian woman with a tattoo on her thigh (the things you remember!) and were driven to Rocinha (supposedly) the largest favela in south america. From the start I new it would be interesting. We were picked up at the bottom of the hill and told to climb behind the local taxi (ie. a guy on a motorbike). We then proceeded to Zoom up the hill, narrowly missing the local buses and odd pedestrian. The adrenalin was already pumping!


Before we made our way down into the favela our guide explained that it was completely safe for us to walk around with her. That eventhough there were many drug dealers around they were not interested in us. We were likely to meet a lot of kids who would know all of three words in english: "gringo, money and photo". And finally that was completely ok for us to take the camera out and take pictures.


The favela in itself was extremely dirty and cramped. There was no internal suage system and the many mountains of trash we saw lying around frequently took over the small alleys we had to walk through. The houses were nothing more than shacks, usually consisting of only one room. There are no real rules in terms of who gets what. The basic idea is that if you find a place to build then build your house and it´s yours. Hence the mess.



Although people were living in squalor, I could still feel that brazilian vibe that makes Brazil what it is. Due to the language barrier it was hard to make contact but my smile was always answered by a discreet smile back. Children were coming up to us shouting "photo, photo" and then making us take another one if they didn´t like the first one.


It was a humbling experience.

Rio de Janeiro, December 2007

For the french speakers: Sing Cloclo along with me..." je vaaais a Rio...de Janeiroooo"

For the english speakers who have no idea who Cloclo is..."Copaacabaaanaaa...lalalala"

So here I am in Riooo de Janeiro, Copacabana to be precise. I arrived having spent the dullest 2 days on Ihla Grande. Why dull you ask? Truth be told Ihla Grande is a paradise, a natural haven of beauty and peace. However, I was slightly unlucky in my endeavours to discover this incredible island spending most of my time staring out the window or being beaten down and battered by torrential rain for the whole day and a half I was there.

Rio on the other hand is a completely different story. I am staying in a hostel called Mellow Yellow, which is one of the best places I have stayed at. Ok, it's a little cramped and old but the bar is amazing and the atmosphere even better. It´s been extremely easy to meet fellow backpackers and let's be honest here...get hammered on Cairpirinha.

Apart from the hostel parties, I have enjoyed Rio. Although I find it somewhat unsettling and unsafe, it has a good vibe. There are few sites to actually see but I was told that I had to go the the beach and see the big JC. Both of which I have done.

Having spent a fair bit of time on Ipanema beach (which is far better than Copacabana!) checking the local talent, my cunning observations on the matter are as follows:

• The eye candy is plentiful. I mean all the men look like they live, eat and sleep in the 3rd Space. I find myself seeking out the fat bastard just for a little variety.



• The myth of the round bottom is true. All girls have round bottoms here. I have come to the conclusion that it cannot be natural.



• The waves are big and scary.

I will now go back to the Irish fest that is taking place in the local public drinking house, as you do in December!