Days 24 & 25: back to Rio

It's time to leave the interior and return to the coast. I take a taxi to Rondon airport at Cuiaba and check in without fuss. There is a connection at my old stamping ground of Brasilia and from there to the "cidade maravilhosa". Santos Dumont, the domestic airport, is only 2 stops on the tram to the central stop of Cinelandia and a short Metro run from there to Botafogo. I am indoors at the Injoy an hour after sunset.

But the national news has not been good. At the National Museum in Rio, 500 years---not counting the pre-Columbian remains---of artefacts have been totally wiped out by a fire. It's an epic tragedy and shows how money shortages can lead to the destruction of priceless collections at a stroke. Another significant event is the stabbing of Presidential candidate Jair Bolsonaro and while he may not be many people's idea of the perfect leader, it's disturbing that an impostor can get so close to an important politician and potentially change the course of history.

7th September, "o sete de setembro", celebrates Brazil's independence from Portugal in 1821 and gives its name to streets and avenues in cities all around the country. But when I ask at the Injoy where there are likely to be parades, no one seems to know. Probably most people choose to celebrate this bank holiday on Copacabana and Ipanema; being a Friday, it's a long weekend as well. On spec I take the Metro to Cinelandia and around---yes, you've guessed it---Rua Sete de Setembro---there are parades, processions and marching bands galore. A man is waving a large Brazilian flag and a few knots of families are cheering lustily but due to the stunning indifference of the general public, I find a kerb-side stand and get shooting.

But later this is to be my downfall. City centre streets in Brazilian cities are known for being dodgy when the shops are closed at weekends and there is little footfall. Although I take care by following in the steps of a small group, my luck runs out at the Arcos de Lapa, the former aqueduct carrying the "bonde" tram up to Santa Teresa. While I am in the shadow of the arches looking for the perfect picture, two men in backwards baseball caps step out and grab the camera case slung over my left shoulder. There are people around but too far away to spot anything or to offer help. Knowing that it's useless to resist, I hand the case to them. Walking away, I realise that the camera is still hanging over my shoulder but the thieves see this too and come back for it.

It's deeply depressing but there are RTBC. 1. I changed the memory card after leaving the parade so the record of that lies in one of my hidden pockets. 2. They also fail to locate the cash in my outside shirt pocket. 3. I have a spare camera. 4. I will be travelling lighter now. 5. Last but certainly not least, I am not injured.Read more