Frankieboy's big journey

Saturday, 17 January 2009

Location: Brazil

Sat 17th Jan 2009

I woke up and decided to get breakfast in the hope it would bring me round. I saw Ben and we discussed our different nights spent at Lapa and what a shame it was that we didn’t meet up. Ben was booked to go on the favela tour which was about to leave. The favela tour sounded terrifying but it was something (against my better judgment) that I wanted to witness. After all you can’t go to Rio and not see the favelas. I decided to ‘go for it’.

The minibus came to pick us up and we drove quite a long way to Rocinha, a very dodgy neighbourhood in Rio ‘the wrong side of the track’. We drove past various signs saying 37, 38 degrees centigrade. The sweat was pouring down onto my sunglasses.

We arrived in Rocinha where even the dogs walk in twos. The heat was horrendous. We would have to leave the relative safety of the minibus and begin the tour. Someone had told me that the tour started with a motorbike ride which I was not particularly looking forward to. The tour guide paid a few guys waiting there on motorbikes to take us to the top of the favela. We each got on the back of motorbike. Health and safety? Forget it. No helmets here.

The ride probably only lasted for about 2 minutes but it was probably the longest 2 minutes of my life. The road up the hill was steep and full of chicanes. The guy riding the bike took the hill at a hell of a speed. We were weaving around other motorbikes, cars and lorries. Some of the gaps we went through were so narrow I kept pulling my knees in to avoid hitting anything. Not wanting to put my arms around the guy (it’s a bit gay isn’t it?) I instead held on to the handle behind me which was totally ineffective. Going round corners leaning over I was convinced I was going to fall off. Perhaps the worst part was when the guy decided to overtake and drive on the opposite side and then pull back just before going in front of a lorry. I wanted to just close my eyes. Never mind being shot in the favela, I’d be dead well before.

Arriving at the top of the favela was, as you can imagine, somewhat of a relief. Unfortunately the guy had no idea where to drop me at the top. He dropped me outside a shop where he thought we started the tour. None of the others in the group could be seen anywhere. I thought for one horrible moment he was going to leave me there. Great. There I was in a very hostile favela, looking like a complete tourist, and the others were nowhere to be seen. I’d be walking home in my underpants if I was lucky. I tried to communicate “Where is everybody else?” to the guy and then mercifully I saw someone in the group drive past on the back of a motorbike. “Follow that bike!” I said and to my great relief soon met up with the others.

Being horribly hung over, in an insalubrious part of town I was really regretting not remaining in the comfort and safety provided by my hostel bed. (Actually ‘comfort’ is being rather generous. I don’t miss the rubber mattress and pillow.) Just to get us in the mood, the tour guide then went through a few trivial housekeeping issues such as to not be alarmed if we see guys with pistols, rifles, grenades or home made explosives and to not take photos going in or out of the favela. I remember thinking ‘What the hell am I doing?’ before having a minor panic attack.

The guide told us that there was only really one main entrance and exit to the favela. We were at the top of the favela and were about to go into the favela, then walk down the hill before leaving via the exit at the bottom of the hill. The favela is run by the drug organisation ‘Amigos Dos Amigos’ which has armed lookouts with walkie talkies keeping an eye on who is going in and out of the favela. They need to be on lookout in case the police or a rival gang decide to pay them a visit. Taking photos at these points is therefore strictly prohibited. The only comforting thought was that the tour company (www.bealocal.com) gives 60% of its profit to the local community. It would be unlikely that we would come to any harm (you would hope).

We walked into the favela through the main entrance. I was keeping my head down but did try and see if I could make out who the lookouts were. If they were armed they were certainly concealing their weapons well. Once inside the favela it felt surprisingly calm and quiet. The tour guide having worked there for the past 4 years seemed to know everyone and said hi and chatted about football to the locals. The fact that she was a stunner certainly seemed to oil the wheels.

The social deprivation and squalor was soon apparent. Kids and dogs were playing in the alleyways amongst litter and flowing dirty water. The stench in some places was overpowering. Disease is prevalent such as dengue fever. The houses looked very unsafe, some as if they were about to fall down. Apparently people sell their roof so that it can be built on, which in turn is built on and so on until you end up having a very structurally unsafe building.

We went to an artist’s house to have a look at his paintings (see pics). They were actually very good. Some were a bit unnerving – one for example the Brazilian flag with blood pouring out bullet holes. I was just keen to get the hell out of the favela as quickly as possible. I was afraid I was about to suffer another bout of atrial fibrillation. That would have been very unfortunate. They asked us to sign in the visitor’s book. I remember my right hand literally shaking almost uncontrollably. The view from the balcony was superb though (see pic). I just didn’t feel safe at any moment. I was sure that we were being watched at all times. There were men a couple of houses away on the roof probably keeping a look out for anything untoward.

We left the artist’s place and kept walking down the hill along this alleyway. Litter was strewn everywhere (see pic). When it rains heavily, litter is washed from off the hillside into the alleyways. Not very pleasant. We bumped into the main drug dealer of the favela who seemed fairly pleasant. The guide laughed and joked with him. They all knew her. This felt very reassuring! We might actually survive after all….

The remarkable thing was that the people in the favela, some of the poorest people in the world, all seemed very happy, smiling and joking. We stopped off at a bakery and afterwards a couple of kids played their home made drums (made from old oil cans) and sang for us.

I must say I was incredibly relieved to get back on the mini bus in one piece. An amazing experience but thank god it was over. The guide said that it can go from being peaceful to all out war in a split second. I don’t like the idea of being caught up in a gun battle between drugs gangs or the police.

Friday, 16 January 2009

Location: Brazil

Friday 16th Jan 2009

According to the Irish girls I proposed to both of them on the boat. It must have been a good night! They were obviously very flattered…

I think I spent most of the day in bed recovering. In the evening I hooked up with Ben and James (– another lad from the West Midlands unbelievably) and the plan was to go to the Lapa street party. Lapa is a neighbourhood in Rio which turns into one big street party every Friday. Hundreds of people show up. I was a bit worried about being mugged so I didn’t take my camera which was a real shame because I’d have loved to have captured it for posterity.

The hostel organized for a few taxis to take us there. I was going to go with Ben and James but as the there was no room in their taxi I caught the next one with some Swedish guys. I was under the impression that all the taxis would be meeting up at the same place so it wouldn’t matter.

Arriving at Lapa the traffic was horrendous, with hundreds of people lining the streets. There was no way we would be meeting up with the others. I was then going to be stuck with team Sweden who I didn’t know from Adam. I think they felt about as awkward about at as I did. We had a few beers together and we got along very well. We ended up in a club under the archways of the Lapa viaduct. It was so hot in there it was pretty much unbearable. The temperature outside must have been about 35 so in there – god only knows. The toilets in the club were fairly horrendous. I walked into the gents’ urinal only to find a girl in there standing over a urinal peeing into to it with quite an impressive trajectory! I was as shocked as I was embarrassed and made a hasty retreat apologising in a very British way. She didn’t care – there was a bloke peeing next to her. All very Bohemian!

All in all it was superb to witness Lapa – an incredible party atmosphere, just a shame that I ended up going with some complete randoms.

Thursday, 15 January 2009

Location: Brazil

Thursday 15th Jan 2009

I decided to do the boat tour as advertised in the hostel. I’m sure the itinerary included the islands just off the coast of Rio which sounded good to me. Unfortunately the only guys I’d got to know in the hostel, Nick and Andrew and co, had buggered off so I was back to Billy no mates.

Waiting in the reception for the tour to start I was a bit apprehensive about the whole thing. It could have been a very long day if the people on board had not been OK. I got chatting in reception to a couple of nice Irish girls who were going and it turned out that they were flying back to Heathrow on the same flight. Bonus – cheap taxi!

We got a taxi to the marina and boarded “Beethoven”. We were welcomed on board with deafeningly loud reggae music which seems to be ‘de rigeur’ for these sorts of things. I got chatting to Ben a nice lad also from the West Midlands (Wolverhampton) coincidentally. Being the pessimistic bastard that I am I was fully expecting to be Billy no mates talking to myself but ended up getting to know some good people.

Predictably, it followed the normal boat party pattern – everyone starts off very politely in the “How do you do?” fashion, usual trite conversations, and gradually descended into (in correlation with the consumption of capirinhas) silly leg dancing – or was that just me?

The route that the boat took was disappointing - not that it detracted from what turned out to be a bloody good laugh. We went no where near these beautiful islands. We did get to see some very nice oil tankers though. We anchored in a bay where everyone started to jump off the side and have a swim. The dirty water was not particularly inviting and the floating litter did not add to its appeal. It was very hot though so I thought sod it and dived head first off the top deck which was fairly terrifying. I was rewarded with a nice mouthful of very salty Rio sea water which I swallowed. I then started retching which must have looked super cool. I decided to jump again and on the second attempt cocked up the trajectory and did a rather impressive belly flop.

I was amused to see the same girl I’d tried to pull at the favela funk party on board the boat. At this favela funk party I’d been dancing with this girl at this party and thought I was doing well until she mysteriously buggered off without warning. I’m sure it had nothing to do with me I kept telling myself. I’d recounted this tale to the Irish girls and Ben who thought that I should go over to her and try my luck again as she was standing by herself looking at the view. I reluctantly gave in and went over and approached her. It went fairly well and I offered to buy her a drink and headed to the bar. By the time I’d got back from the bar some poxy bastard had already started chatting to her. I later found it was an Israeli guy staying at the hostel.

Back with Ben and the Irish girls we all watched this Isreali guy chat her up which concluded in him sickeningly getting off with her. I was tempted to hurl myself over the side of the boat but being uncharacteristically philosophical, I found the whole thing quite funny.

By about 6pm everyone on board was roaringly drunk. I was waving and dancing at other ships passing by and got many a wave back. It was only a matter of time before I started teaching everyone the LFLD (legendary Frank leg dance) which like the capirinhas, went down rather well. When “Stayin Alive” came on the PA someone had the brainwave of combining the LFLD with the standard John Travolta pointing dance and thus it evolved into something truly remarkable.

I got back to hostel somehow. I have a vague recollection of going on the internet (probably embarrassing myself horrendously) before passing out.

Wednesday, 14 January 2009

Decided to brave the heat and venture out of the hostel. Thought I'd go out and check out Copacabana and Ipanema beaches.

The heat was oppressive. It reminded me of being back in Queensland if not worse. I'd brought my camera with me and was thus cruelly unable to jump in the sea which looked inviting to say the least.

I took a few pics of Copacabana then walked to Ipanema. It's quite a long walk - must be a couple of miles at least. By the time I'd reached Ipanema I was covered in sweat. I bought a coconut to rehydrate (see pic). Funny taste - quite sweet and doesn't really taste of anything. It's surprising how much liquid they contain. I was well and truly sick of it by the bottom. It certainly quenched my thirst though.

I was accosted by some annoying bloke who although said that he was my "friend" ;-) refused to bugger off so I gave him a couple of Real which seemed to do the trick. I was more concerned about the nice camera in my pocket. Back home chavscum would have assaulted you and taken your belongings so I was delighted! Despite this guy though I felt decidedly safe walking around. I'm sure the risks are blown out of all proportion....

With it being so hot and me being totally lazy I hailed a cab (despite Fran's word of warning!) which took me back to the hostel in air conditioned luxury.

There's a pool competition tonight at the hostel which I might as well enter. Let's see if I can win another one!