On top of the world in Rio
de Janeiro
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The waves were imposing enough to
know that before us was a vast ocean - on the shores of Rio de Janeiro. I didn't
have to look around for palm trees, exotic fruit or curious animals, although
there was plenty of all three, to know I had arrived in a beautiful Brazilian
landscape. Strangely, however, was a peculiar odor that emanated in this paradise
and would recur on several occasions during my few days in Rio.
Bitter-sweet
contrasts
Impressions of a journey to Amazonia, Rio de Janeiro
By
Andrew Princz
Reporting from Rio de Janeiro and Manaus
There was nothing gallant about Rio, glitzy or even elegant. But I did get the
feeling of a misplaced elegance. It must have been the architecture from the
golden age of Rio that made me imagine a silver-screen movie star strolling
suavely down the Copacabana, ordering a cocktail with eyes fixed on her. Nice
fantasy, but in this Rio, time seemed to have stood still since its glory days.
Rio is idyllic, however, in all of its natural beauty, from the many beaches
that indent its coastline in Arpoador, Ipanema and Copacabana, or large mountain
peaks that pierce the landscape such as the Corcovado or Sugarloaf mountains.
Rio is also host to the largest urban forest in the world, the Tijuca Forest.
But most famously, it is home to Brazilian music like the choro, the samba and
bossa nova.
Post carnaval blues
A view from Sugarloaf Mountain,
Rio
As the trip progressed, I began to suspect the reason for the foul odor. I had
traveled thousands of kilometers to catch the hangover from Rio's famed Carnaval.
I'm glad to have missed the world's biggest party in early March. I am not good
in crowds. I felt, however, like I had just missed a party, or more accurately,
having arrived the morning after a Dionysian orgy. In Rio, Carnaval is taken seriously.
Interestingly, the traditional Carnaval had its origins in the city's slums, places
the average tourist sees only from the windows of a bus, as I did. Unfortunately,
some 30-50 million of Brazil's inhabitants live on less than one dollar a day.
The trip to Brazil from Budapest took a full day, and jet lag kept me in the hotel
for the first two nights. I almost missed out on the third night, but lucky for
me, I awoke at 2 a.m. and wandered out on the Copacabana.
I wandered into an expansive, disco-type bar. Music blared and a Samba beat pulsated
as I listened to a song about a beautiful girl from Ipanema. Although the suave
young woman I met that night was not from Ipanema, I bought her a cocktail and
shared a few words. Her fate was less fanciful than the girl in the song. This
woman came from an outlying village and said she was trying to raise money to
travel to the US to be an au pair. Our conversation was abruptly ended when she
said she was working had to go in search of a client that night. I doubted she
would become an au pair.
The samba continued and I made my way to the beach as the waves hummed and caressed
the shores. That natural beauty, however, was somehow cheapened for me here.
The next day a small train wound its way up a mountain, taking me and others on
my tour up to Rio's famous statue of the redeeming Christ. It was like visiting
heaven, and from there I could see Ipanema. I spent a few minutes in awe looking
down at the world, which at that moment was as beautiful as it would ever be.
A monkey cried from the trees, I grabbed a beer, read a newspaper and was content.
Lush Amazonia
At the market in Manaus, Amazonia
The following day, thousands of kilometers from Rio, I was on the banks of the
Negro River, a chocolate-colored tributary of the famous Amazon. In this even
more humid and hot environment, wild parrots gathered every morning near our lodges
- where monkeys, spiders and snakes were all part of the environment.
Rain and sun intermittently came and went on a moment's notice, with a torrential
rain being replaced by warm sun, all within the space of an hour. Along the Negro,
I saw monkeys, fished for piranha and bathed in a natural lake where the water
was tainted brown.
My group stayed in small lodges that were interspersed amid a maze of small winding
paths that jotted through the lush, tropical rain forest. It was like an outdoor
museum, and machete-laden Indian guides took us through the forest explaining
in great detail how their people lived, hunted and survived in this natural environment.
Survive they did, until the Europeans arrived. It was not so long ago that these
people were slaughtered by the "discoverers" of their land.
The Indian encampment
I felt quite uncomfortable when we tour arrived in an "Indian encampment." The
men greeted us and played wind instruments. They were half-dressed and their faces
were painted. Today they showed the "white man" how they lived. Our guide said
there are only 200,000 surviving native Indians here, of an original 4 million.
Half of those still living continue to live their traditional lifestyle, while
the others live in Amazonia's capital, Manaus or in other cities.
When our tour group arrived at the encampment, 40 cameras began clicking. I noticed
that the faces of the Indian family, especially the children, grew somber - as
if they were well familiar how to pose in these situations. They seemed more like
trophies than humans.
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