South American Adventure - Day Twenty Four, Saturday 15th March 2014

We decided to get up early to do the Corcovado Tour to Christ the Redeemer.  We had a super breakfast by the pool, and had already found out that there were direct vans to the Corcovado just a couple of blocks from our hotel.  We walked to the Praca do Lido just along Copacabana Beach in time to buy a ticket (51 reais, about £15 each) which includes the entry ticket and return transport, for when the first van left at 8.00am.  This was meant to avoid the crowds!  It took around 45 minutes to get to the top of the mountain, where we disembarked and got the elevator to the bottom of the statue.  It was an absolutely glorious day, with a clear blue sky.  It was amazing – and what a feat of engineering.  His middle finger on his right hand still needed a little patching up from a lightening strike, but his thumb, which was chipped last month, seems to be OK now.  Seems it happens quite a lot, but he is a long way up and probably the thing nearest to strike. 

It was OK when we first got up there – no queues, but after being there half an hour or so the place was packed.  Everybody wanted to have their picture taken in the pose.  The views over the city of Rio were amazing – the flight path was actually below our view point, and we could see planes landing from above.  It was quite hazy, and just as we were leaving there was a real haze hanging over the city.  Not sure if that was pollution or heat mist.  We got back to where the vans left from – no queues again yet – and headed back to Copacabana.  Lovely few hours.

The beach was packed when we got back – miles and miles of beautiful sandy beach, with miles and miles of people on it.  Looked like Benidorm.  Copacabana Palace have a little area with sun beds and a beach service.  A piece of haven in the middle of hustle and bustle.  We have a small interlude by the pool, before I go on an adventure on my own.

This afternoon I have booked a “Favela Tour” – a tour of one of the shanty towns.  Instead of going in a car and just looking, I have booked a walking tour, run by a guy that lives in the favela of Rochinha.  This is the biggest favela in South America, and houses around 300,000 people.  Paul has decided that it is not his cup of tea, and opts to stay by the pool!

It is about half an hour to walk to the meeting place of the tour – further down Copacabana Beach.  Dembore is the tour guide, and he also lives in the favela.  There is another English couple, an Israeli and two Austrian ladies.  We start by getting on a bus.  We have to travel the way that the people who live there travel.  We get on an already full bus, and it stops probably ten more times and picks up more people.  We have to feel the “heat” of the people, so Dembore says.  Quite right – it was rather hot.  But everyone is so friendly.  Paul seems to think that will be the last he is going to see of me – he thinks it is extremely dangerous.  I think it will probably be safer than walking along Copacabana Beach!

We take the bus right to the top of the favela – it is a huge expanse that occupies the whole of a hillside.  We have gone up and up – almost as far as we did this morning to Corcorvado.  We can see the statue across on another hilltop from where we get off the bus.  The noise and the traffic are constant.  There is one main street, seven not main streets and about 500 alleyways.  The houses are built into the hillside, and don’t look too steady, but apparently some have been here for over one hundred years.  Sometimes, another storey is just added to an existing house.  Building regulations?? I don’t think so.  In actual fact, this is a bit like the Vatican City with a law all its own. 

They were originally illegal housing, but the government couldn’t get rid of the people.  They moved them on, but they just kept coming back.  In the end, they let them stay.  But they didn’t have anything except what they built.  No water, electricity etc.  The drug dealers started here to make money to pay for the info structure of the community – not sure that it is quite the same now.  There are, apparently, a lot of drug dealers.  They have put a police presence in the favela for show for the World Cup.  I saw a few with machine guns just standing on the streets.  There have been a couple of occasions when there have been shootings.  This is what gives it a bad name.

But this is such a strong community – considering how many people live here, Dembore seems to know most of them.  They all stop to have a chat, and to talk with us – albeit we can’t chat back as no-one speaks English.  All the businesses are run by people in the favela.  99% of the families living here are working – many of them are taxi drivers and work in the hotels.  That is quite an impressive record.  Everyone here is happy – and I don’t feel threatened at all.  This is not how it is portrayed to the outside world.  Not sure I would like to live there though – it is very basic, the little alleyways are only inches wide, and the steps!  If you live at the top, you could walk up two hundred steps to get to your house.  Imagine going to the shop, getting back home and realising you have forgotten the milk!  But, those that don’t have much are usually happy with their lot.

There are little motor bike taxis buzzing about – they only can work in the favela, and the busses are full to the brim.  For all those that work, they use them to get in and out.  As it is a Saturday night, there are barbeques on the street – and music!  Everywhere.  Couldn’t go and have a quiet lie down here.  Apparently the noise won’t stop until about 6.00am tomorrow morning.  We then stop off at the house of the man that runs the tours.  The tours are paying for a DJ Project called Spin Rochinha that is training young adults to be DJ’s.  This gives them something to do to perhaps earn money, and if they are busy they don’t have time to sell drugs.  One of the guys turns up for his training – he comes over two hours each way from another favela.  We stayed there chatting for ages – then Dembore suggests we go and get dinner at a restaurant in the favela.  Everyone agrees – not sure that Paul is going to be happy eating on his own tonight!  I sent him a text just to let him know I was still alive, and not to cash in the life insurance just yet.

We went down the road a bit to a little restaurant – only pizza etc on the menu, but I hardly expected gourmet food.  It was good enough – everyone had at least two drinks, food, and we all split Dembore’s dinner between us and it came to less than £10 each.  Bargain.  The party was getting into real swing now – so much so that I had missed at least two calls from Paul.  Tried to ring him, but then he didn’t answer.  Oh well!

We walked down and out of the favela onto the main road.  We went on an overpass to cross the road, and looked back at the hillside full of lights from the favela.  It was a really lovely afternoon and evening, with some really lovely people.  I decided on a taxi rather than a bus to get back – I am sure Paul was worrying.  When I got back to the hotel he gave me a big hug.  He (weirdly) had been reading a book where a guy was in the middle of a drug shoot out in a favela in Rio.  He had tried to ring several times, I hadn’t answered, and he was really worried.  Oh dear!  Next time he will have to come with me!