Entering Rio de Janeiro, First Night

If Sao Paulo is the New York City of South America, Rio de Janeiro is Miami; minus the over extravagant neons.  The city weaves in between immense hills that jut out of the earth creating a constant game peek-a-boo with the sparkling lights that ascend hill sides.  The breeze carries the smell of the sea nearby and streets are lined with palm trees.  People saunter up and down them with a laid back attitude that almost seems absent from the purposeful strides of the Paulistinos back in Sao Paulo. 

                I arrived in the city last night after a six hour bus ride from Sao Paulo.  The ride itself was uneventful and proved itself to be good for catching up on some Zs and finishing a book.  I hailed a cab from the bus station and gave him the address to a hostel I am staying at; he must be used to dealing with gringos as he knew the name of the hostel just from the address I presented.  I figured that the cab ride would take a bit of time because of the earthly obstructions that seem to separate neighborhoods but the clever Brazilians have built elongated tunnels straight through them. 

                Some of them seemed to go on forever and the lack of shoulders on either side of the road made me wonder how backed up the tunnels can get if a driver gets a flat tire or if an accident occurs.  The cabby careened through the tunnels and when we immerged from the burrows of the city we were assaulted with blaring street sounds and music blasting from the many clubs and bars.  We snaked our way through a few more tunnels and shortly thereafter arrived at my hostel, Che Lagarto.

                The hostel itself hosts a laid back attitude.  There is a bar on the first floor where music blasts through speakers at all times of the day and night.  A wooden porch with an awning clings closely to the street where smokers drag on cigarettes and bullshit with each other in a vast range of foreign languages and slang. Che Lagarto is located in the touristy Ipanema neighborhood of Rio, which is filled with bars and clubs.  The sandy beach is conveniently two blocks away and the metro approximately eight more down a bustling street.  The reception workers seem polite enough and the bartender is an interesting fellow as well.  I will probably write more about the people I have met in another post though; for sake of keeping stories organized.  The hostel has a kitchen that serves breakfast (included in the room fee) and dinner (a home cooked meal, one mixed drink, one beer, US$14).  In addition to the hostel’s bar, the reception promotes events and activities for both during the day and Rio night life. 

                My first experience with the Rio night life was a booze cruise on a decently sized yacht out in the harbor with an open bar.  How could I say no?  The event started at 11:30 but, in proper South American fashion, vans did not arrive at the hostel till midnight.  The other guests of the hostel and I, now properly aquatinted over some beers and banter, piled into our transport and made speedy time to the docks where we joined others on the boat.

                The boat idled in the water for some time as more passengers boarded onto the soon overcrowded deck and fought for elbow room.  Eventually it jerked to a start and pulled away from the docks to expose the city skyline of towering resorts and luxury hotels built right along the white beaches.  The boat navigated around some other docks and picked up speed, blowing sea water and wind into the faces of those on the bow.  The ocean was relatively calm and the boat never really dipped or rose too extremely but, I still made sure to do my best to stand upright.  Some others were not as fortunate and I witnessed a couple of comedic spills from girls in high heels.  Clever people…    

                Unfortunately for many of the people dancing to the music a fuse blew as we drifted around the bay.  One moment strobe lights lit the deck, people moved to the deafening music and in the next there was only a collective cry of disappointment among the passengers.  A very drunk Brazilian guy was more than happy to fill the silence with his free style Portuguese rapping though.  As painful as it was to listen to him slur words and watch him fall all over the deck, he gave an Irish guy and I more than enough ammunition to laugh at.  We kept thoroughly entertained as the boat bobbed gently up and down to the easy waves and refreshing breeze, so I was not too worked up about the music.

                They never quite got the party started again on the water and we made a speedy return to the docks where with the use of extension cords the party resumed.  Being docked though killed the mood for many and little by little, then almost all at once, the deck cleared off of most passengers.  An open bar is hard to turn down though and I lingered with some Irish guys for a bit longer till the lights came up and music was shut off for good.  By then it was a few minutes after four and cabs were lined up outside of the marina to take us back to the hostel.  After some more bullshitting on the porch with some other travelers I stumbled and climbed my way into the top bunk in my room.  

                An exciting first night, please excuse me while I start my next…

The night approaches.