Day 5 - Her name was Lola.

16:00
Wow - what a day! We’re up with the lark. Well, I’m awake at a little after 05:00, and Vicki wakes moments before the 07:00 alarm call. We’re heading out in decent time, as we need to be at the Copacabana Palace Hotel by 09:00 for our favela tour. In the end, this is a breeze, and meet Barbara, who will be our font of knowledge, protector and guide for the next few hours. We jump in a cab to head up to Rocinha (Hor-seen-ya), one of the largest favelas in Rio. It’s a good 20 minutes in the cab, during which Barbara assures us, reassures us, and assures us for a third time that walking around the favela with her is perfectly safe, that we don’t need to worry about our valuables etc etc. More on that later…

There’s an incredibly distinct demarcation between a ‘normal’ neighbourhood, and the beginning of the favela. On one side of the road is a very expensive private school, largely for ex-pat kids. The other side of the road, is the entrance to the favela. It could not be a starker contrast. I’m reminded of my time in Mumbai, where there’s an ultra-luxe hotel on one side of the road, and the entrance to the world’s biggest slum on the other. The favelas/slums in Rio grew up as a result of cheap labour being transported in to help build the city in the late 19th and early 20th century. Workers were offered a small plot of land on which to build a residence. Unsurprisingly, many have now sprouted into multi-storey properties. There are something like 200,000 people living here, in 1km2.

Barbara walks us up a STEEP hill, followed by some STEEP stairs. She promises us the effort is worth it. We suddenly emerge onto the rooftop terrace of a local restaurant, and the entire favela is laid out beneath us. Genuinely jaw dropping. We sit for a while, as Barbara tells us more about the social and legal status of the community. There’s very little crime in Rocinha, but only because the drug dealers won’t allow it. Any crime will attract the interest of the state police. If there’s no crime, the state police have no cause to enter the favela. There’s almost a tolerance of the drug business, as long as it’s contained to Rocinha. This isn’t true of all the favelas in Rio. Further to the North is Cidade de Deus, the inspiration for City of God (if you haven’t seen it, track down a copy) where murder is a daily occurrence, and we would likely be robbed and/or shot on sight.

Barbara goes on to tell us about Johnny Bravo, the drug kingpin in Rocinha. He’s around 30 years old, and has run the drag cartel since the age of 22. He’s wanted for 6 murders, and countless racketeering charges, but never leaves the favela, so has avoided arrest. What’s fascinating is to see how Barbara, who’s background is as a lawyer, and who lives outside the favela, talks about this career criminal. There’s a reverence, almost an acknowledgement that, whilst not a perfect situation, the permissiveness of the drug trade has an upside, and a positive impact on the social construct across the community.

We climb many stairs, we walk down many others. There’s a ton of great street art, we meet many cats, and see some dogs humping. At a few points, Barbara warns us not to take photos for a couple of minutes, as we’re about to pass a drug business. Fine to walk past, definitely NOT ok to capture images. Further into the favela, there are some young (maybe 20s?) men sitting at a table, upon which their drug wares are laid. I’m not kidding - it’s like a candy shop, each different option labelled. As we walk past, they call out to us to try and entice us to buy. My mind is fairly blown by this.

As we come towards the end of our tour, we’re struck by so much of our experience. I think my single, greatest takeaway will be how happy the favela is. We’re greeted with smiles and waves wherever we go. There’s a positive, buoyant energy everywhere we look. Yes, there’s a dark undercurrent that permits the rest of the community to operate the way it does, but it’s working, really REALLY well.

Barbara leads us onto the Metro to head back towards the city beaches. We choose to get off at the slightly closer Ipanema beach. We find a cool little bar/restaurant, and put roots down. It’s hot today, around 35C, and we’ve been in the sun more than is completely ideal this morning. We also all wore trainers for the walking tour, and are more than ready for flip-flops for the afternoon. I have a local craft IPA, Tamsin has a more than passable Caipi Limao, and Vicki is delighted to find Corona Cero on the menu. Cooled, we turn our minds to food, and order a few bits to pick at. Vicki and I have some lamb croquetas that are brilliant.

We’re only a couple of blocks from Ipanema Beach, so head down to check it out. It is RAMMED. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a beach so packed. Certainly not one that’s so big. It’s also windy. Like, really windy. Tam braves a dip of the toes, and we decide to head on to Copacabana. It’s a little quieter, a little less windy here. We head down onto the beach. Tam and I have been wanting to grab a beach Caipi. There are little stalls up and down the beach, numbered sequentially. To meet your friends, you’d tell them to which drinks shack you’re closest. We swing by #56, and order a couple of Caipi Limaos. By the power of Grayskull, they’re strong. Moments later, a yoof approaches, ostensibly selling some pastry type snack. I decline, but he leans in, and conspiratorially offers me coke or hash. Again, I decline, explaining that I have a guy in the favela that sorts me out. He looks nonplussed at me, and carries on down the beach. It’s pushing 15:00, and we’re all feeling another long day’s walking in the heat. We agree to use the rest of the afternoon for some high-level resting, and reconvene this evening to see what’s what.

21:45
Tam’s decided to have a quiet night in, so Vicki and i head out around 18:00 to what Time Out recently proclaimed as the 8th coolest street in the world. I’m not sure we know what to make of that, or what to expect. We grab a cocktail at Ferro e Farinha, a restaurant specialising in wood fired cooking. The cocktails are excellent. Are they the 8th coolest cocktails in the world? We’re not convinced. Refreshed, we wander down the street in search of food, and cool stuff/people/places. There’s a cool supermarket a hundred metres up the road. Think the Whole Foods chain in the US, and you’re not a million miles away. They charge premium prices for staple products, and stock the somewhat esoteric as well. They have avocados the size of my head. Is it the 8th coolest supermarket in the world? Possibly. I’ve not really used ‘cool’ as a metric for supermarkets before. The street is maybe 400m long. We pass a few bars showing football, a couple of places to eat. We briefly consider grabbing some Peruvian food, but having to translate every single item on the Portuguese only menu is frankly more of a ballache than we're willing to accommodate.

We end up back at Ferro e Farinha, where the food looked amazing. We have two carpaccios - one of beef, served with a Bearnaise mayonnaise and some shaved Parmesan, and one of Octopus with some citrus and herbs. Both are banging. We have a sort of open Calzone with a cheese, tomato and egg yolk centre, served with garlic butter and a salsa verde pesto. Astonishing. Vicki has a ginger and tea cocktail that is both spectacular to look at, and uber-tasty. While we eat, we discuss our views on this - the 8th coolest street in the world. We agree it’s not even our coolest street in Rio de Janeiro. Perhaps Time Out's and our definition of cool differs, but we’d take the noisy street bars and restaurants of Lapa over this any day of the week, and twice on Sundays. Still, food was awesome.

It’s pushing 21:00 by the time we settle the bill. This constitutes a late night for this trip. Back at our hotel, Vicki quickly falls into bed. I give up reading when I realise i can barely focus on the words any more…Baca lagi