The Archive

Blame it on Rio

OK, something is up with the internet here, this was the first post from Rio, but it looks like it's disappeared. So here goes again...

NY to Rio

It was time to leave Mark and New York, so I decided to get a cab to the airport. So Mark told me to go and hang out on a corner near his house and wait for a cab there.

I stood on the corner for a while, looking for the distinctive light atop a yellow cab. Meanwhile, the drivers seemed to be very aggressive on this corner as there was a lot of honking of horns despite the traffic moving quite smoothly.

Some time passed and I began to worry as no cabs appeared. And still the honking went on.

Some more time passed. No cab. More honking.

And then I remembered. Mark told me that in addition to yellow cabs, there are private cabs which have limosine stickers on the bumper. And it was then that I realised that all the horns had been these cabs honking at me because I looked like I was waiting for a cab.

D'oh.

Still, made it to the airport in plenty of time and enjoyed a nice overnight flight to Rio (on American, who this time did manage to feed me, but in retaliation for having to provide this service, withdrew the single free drink I'd come to expect).

By noon the next day, I'd arrived in Rio. Oh my, it's hot here.

Still, I met up with Tanya without incident and got a cab through Rio beneath the gaze of the mighty impressive Christ statue (not sure I like the idea of having him peering down on me at all times mind).

Then we headed off to Leblon beach (which is right next to Ipanema beach, making Tanya the girl from not quite Ipanema.)

I must say, after all the different people who'd told me that I'd be in a heaven of perfect, peach-like asses, I was a bit disappointed. It all looked very ordinary to me.

That said, one of the things that struck me was the sheer number and variety of people doing exercise. Quite apart from the volleyball, football and, for the man who wants everything foot volleyball that was being played, there is a running and cycling lane by the beach where loads of people run up and down.

Everyone's at it. Watching the runners for a few minutes soon revealed that men and women, young and old alike were all quite happy to run... in tight speedos.

That's right, a disturbingly large number of runners had nothing but speedos and trainers on. This is the equivalent of doing gym in your pants, but without the excuse that a balding sadist of a gym teacher made you do it. Not a good look, I can assure you.

Still, the general standard of beach body did, I must admit, beat the pasty fat Germans on offer in Thailand, with the added benefit of not featuring the old man with beautiful young girl dynamic either.

So, we enjoyed some beers and caipirianas by the beach, watching the world go by, before dinner and, not very late, to bed .

Oh, and internet access is a bit patchy where I am, so apologies if blogging suffers.

posted by Peter The Great @ 1:24 AM