We stopped by all the main neighborhoods. We spent an inordinate amount of time at the Maracana, the Mecca of Football, taking football related pictures (with fake FIFA Cups, among others). We also spent an hour at the Sambadroma, the Mecca of Carnaval. The ladies rented sexy carnaval costumes and shot fantasy pictures.
We enjoyed lunch time at Marius, a very curious and famous overpriced restaurant, right on Copacabana Beach. Most of the fuss about Marius is focused on its restrooms! The patrons take more pictures of the lavatories than they take of the elegant facade. What is so singular about these bathrooms? Everything. Beyond this word, it is difficult to explain.
During our delicious churrascarria lunch, we loudly supported Costa-Rica beating Italy. The Italian customers at Marius were stunned by the invasion of American customers who were in fact preventing the Azzuris from winning. "Coooos-ta-Ri-ca" was the effective battle song. It worked.
After Marius, we stopped at a souvenir shop not far away on Copabacana. There we spent some precious minutes. Our guides were not in a hurry to visit any more venues; obviously they were running the clock. Thereafter, we were stuck in traffic for another hour, before we could make it back to Corcovado, allowing those who did not visit the Cristo on day one, to hug the big man, and say a prayer.
Visiting the Cristo by night, without the rain, is an extraordinary experience. We learned by experience that going up and down the mountain via train, takes twice longer than the time spent on the platform, having fun. Waiting in line to board took awfully long. From the train going down, we could admire the staggering illumination of the Rio Hippodrome. French fans on board never stopped singing "Allez les Bleus" so happy they were about the romp that their team bestowed on Switzerland, an hour earlier. Quelle affaire!
Then we drove more than an hour, by bus, back to Niteroi. We should by then be so tired that we would have to call it quit. Right? Not quite... After a brief rest, a shower, some diner, two dozen of us were on our way back to downtown, to 40 Graus, a night club a la mode.
Beyond the highway, into Lapa, the area was crowed with pedestrians. The crowd, mostly young, average 25, mixed with football fans of all ages paralyzed the place. Restaurants and bars are thirteen to the dozen. Clubs empty their music onto the streets. Lapa looks like a painting of Carnaval sous Champ-de-Mars.
We opted to walk to the club, instead of sitting in the bus driven at 2 mph. We were walking in Indian line through the crowd and between the cars, when we heard a bump. A car had driven over the right foot of a member of the group. Quelle pouasse!
After multiple exams by several readily available physicians, it was diagnosed that the car did in fact drive over her foot, completely squashing her right shoe, but creating only soft tissue damage to her extremity. No broken bone. What a miracle that was! She could not bear weight on her swollen right foot, but there was no bleeding, and no gross deformity. What a relief. She refused to go to the ER. Between two strong shoulders, she made it to 40 Graus...
40 Graus (40 Degrees) has three dance floors and a restaurant. No less. They play all kinds of music. We invaded and annexed the front floor by the large window onto the street. The band, in our honor, switched to American music, Sinatra-type. No thanks. Quick, quick, revert back to Ivete Sangalo and the fast rhythm of Bahia.
We danced a storm releasing gallons of adrenaline accumulated during the long trip and during the wait times. Soaked in sweat, we left the place at 3:30 AM... Driving back, not a single soul was awake in the bus... Today was a much better day, we only had one car accident and no rain...
(The Traveller, Saturday June 21, 2014
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