On Tuesday I ventured into Rocinha, South America’s largest favela or slum. I went with two friends, one a local carioca who does social work with the children. Because most favelas are built on the hills in Rio as originally illegal settlements, visitors and residents alike arrive at the bottom and take a motor taxi up the steep, narrow and winding streets. This was an experience in itself. Motor taxis are motorbikes driven by favella boys who make 2 Reais (just over a dollar) per drop-off (this may be different for locals who are unlikely to be able to afford that amount). Our particular drivers thought it would be funny to scare the shit out of the three of us, deciding to race up the hill through the favela, narrowly missing crashing into each other, oncoming cars, pedestrians, cats, dogs and chickens. The roads (if you can really call them that) are teeming with motorbikes and people, and ravaged by potholes and bumps. Clinging on to the back of the Honda (Hondas seemingly run the favela), I convinced myself to relax, trust that this guy had done it before, and enjoy the experience. 
The favelas occupy some of the most impressive views in Rio, and despite the enormous contrast with the wealth, glamour and vanity of Zona Sul (Ipanema, Copacabana, Leblon) from which they arise, they are functioning, standalone and self-sufficient towns. In some corners there is a pungent smell of sewerage, and in others a quick glance will reveal a man casually slinging a machine gun (drugs provide income for the favela and guns provide protection). Despite having calmed down over recent years, conflicts between police and drug gangs in the favelas are ongoing, with shootouts not unheard of. In the main square there are all kinds of goods being sold, and a hodgepodge of colours and ages walking the streets. Recently some colour has been brought to the otherwise mundane brick structures. Electricity wires hang overhead like knotted spaghetti, and house walls are often nonexistent, left open to the maze of alleyways that intricately connect the slum. While cramped and seemingly disordered, there seems to be a method to the madness. Evidently there is a desire for the favelas to rise out of their state of poverty with Brazil’s strong economic growth, but people don’t seem to be trampled upon by their walk of life. Dilma will continue to pursue the leftist policies of her predecessor Lula, who strongly supported the poor with novel policies, promising to significantly reduce poverty within her term. I was happy to come out of my little City of God experience in tact with camera and phone in hand, although the motor taxi driver did short change me and sped off before I could count it.
Living in Rio is like living on a movie set, a continuum of surreal and magnificent images. This last week I have managed to fit in quite a bit. A Portuguese lesson by a waterfall in the last remaining virgin rainforest around Rio (virgin in that it has not been previously cut down and grown back like the rest), followed by a bike ride around the lagoon. In the evening a football match between Brazil’s most followed teams Flamengo v. Corinthians. Despite the stadium being less than half full, no English game I’ve been to comes close to the atmosphere here. Chanting and singing is non-stop. Even when a goal is conceded, a quick pause for thought, a brief acknowledgement of concession, and then straight back into the swing of things before the ball is even at the centre spot.
Sport is an integral part of life here, every opportunity is spent on or around the beach, and on sunny weekends finding a spot is near impossible. The variety of sports played on the beach cannot be counted on two hands. Running here is easy given the distractions that pass you by, and I surprised myself with a 15km run to the end of Copa beach and back that was more pleasure than pain. Stopping off on my return for a cold coconut I briefly lingered to watch the floodlit beach football. Fancying my footie skills I thought maybe I’ll ask to give it ago – a few dazzling stepovers, flicks and shimmies later (some of which I could not do on grass let alone sand), I thought better of it and was on my way. I have had three kitesurfing lessons, and can now control the kite in the water. Next lesson, when wind permits, I’ll be using the board for the first time and getting up out of the water accompanied by a motorboat. Watching from shore the mixture of grace, power and manoeuvrability, I think addiction will fast set in. The sight of a launch off with a 12-metre kite connected 20-metres away, an effortless cruise across the broken waves and then cool as anything a tug on the bar, a catch of the wave, and a backflip grab, would beat even the most intricate of Michel's leveraged buyout financial models. The bus ride back from the surf beach to Zona Sul is about twenty minutes on a good day, and that too was an experience in itself. Policy here seems to be that if you can fit in the bus, you’re on the bus - there is no maximum limit and the driver will even drive with open doors if someone is brave enough to cling on from the outside. While pressed against the front windscreen and concentrating on not flying through it as the driver raced down the impressive sea front highway, I noticed a man from a favela wearing a pink cap with ‘TOMBOY’ embroidered on it - maybe they’re not so badass after all.
There are a lot of different options for going out, with some good clubs, bars and hidden samba spots. For the Halloween weekend I went to a very chilled out, hippie birthday party a friend of mine was throwing at his girlfriend’s place in Santa Teresa, a very different part of Rio set on a hill and with a colonial vibe to it. After, I went to a club that was having its opening night. One thing that is incredibly frustrating about going out is the ridiculously bureaucratic system they use for ordering and paying for drinks. Entering a club involves showing ID, entering it into the system and taking a digital photo. They then issue you a card or piece of paper that is swiped or ticked off every drink that is ordered. No cash is paid at the bar to ensure that the least amount of people have contact with the money. Instead, you queue to order your drink on credit never knowing exactly how much you have racked up. Losing the card makes the whole process infinitely more complicated, especially if someone finds it and charges drinks to you. At the end of the night when you finally just want to go home, you queue again to settle your bill at the single checkout point with everyone leaving at the same time, with the receipt finally providing your exit ticket. A caveman could have come up with something more efficient.
Despite the notorious crime rate and stories of muggings in Rio I have yet to feel threatened whilst here. People do still get mugged, some multiple times, at knife or gun point and mostly by favela residents. In general, to avoid such events, people are dressed casually with little emphasis on bling. Cops are still crooked and supposedly target foreigners, often planting drugs to coerce a bribe. An English guy I met took a bus up into Rosinha at 3am to buy some weed before heading home (stupid in itself) and was pulled over on leaving. Faced with the threat of arrest he offered a bribe, to which the two cops humbly obliged. ATMs close at midnight here to reduce the threat of late-night muggings, so he was taken to the petrol station to swipe his card for a petrol purchase, with $300 cash returned. After refusal to pay more, the cops accepted and friendly banter pursued, followed by them giving him back his weed........and everything else they had confiscated that night. So effectively, he ended up buying weed off the cops.
Food is decent here with the staple diet rice, beans and chicken, but generally standard affair is pretty greasy, with a lot of pastry and melted cheese. Meat is almost always good, although I have yet to visit a Churrascaria. There are good restaurants but often with absurdly cheeky prices that don't match the quality of the food. Rio is not a cheap place by any means, especially with the Brazilian Real so strong. Real estate is no exception with apartments on the Ipanema and Copa beachside avenues some of the most expensive properties in South America, with prices rocketing in the past 5 years. The new areas for investment are closer to the centre of town where development is still behind.
Sao Paolo didn't happen last weekend, but I'll be heading over there one of the next weekends. Sao Paolo and Rio are viewed as equivalent to New York and LA, one a concrete jungle with great nightlife and culture, the other a less stressed, outdoor beach lifestyle. In the meantime, to get a taste of what this city has to offer, the Rio campaign video for the 2016 Olympic games - Cidade Maravilhosa. Definitely could see myself living here, but temptations and excuses abound not to go to work.
BTW...
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