City of beaches, bodies and banging drums
Nothing is done by half in Rio … except the size of the bikinis. Photo: Paul Bernhardt/Lonely Planet
From the sexy beaches and clubs to the dangerous slums, Larissa Ham is electrified by the energy of Rio de Janeiro.
It isn’t the endless parade of deliciously bronzed, abdominally blessed men, the dancing, the endless cracking music or even sunsets with an icy Caipirinha cocktail in hand and my toes in the sand that gets me.
No, the moment I know Brazil will become a place close to my heart is when, after several hours of rain soaking Ipanema Beach, the sun appears from behind a cloud, and hundreds of people begin clapping.
I look around just to check I haven’t been mistaken, but apart from the countless Brazilian beefcakes lining the sand, the sun is the only thing meriting this kind of frantic applause.
Smiles abound, and the crowds, who have taken shelter under beach umbrellas, return to the sands to resume the parade of flesh, volleyballing and tanning.
Brazil, and in particular Rio de Janeiro, the host city for the 2016 Olympics, is not a place where things are done by half. Unless, of course, you’re talking bikini bottoms, and then it’s more like a eighth.
When my plane from Buenos Aires touches down, to hearty applause from those on board, I know I am in for something special. A middle-aged man in a floral shirt, clearly itching to get off the plane, asks me “Is this your first time in Rio?” “It’s a very special place,” he says, excitement lighting up his features.
I’m glad of the reassurance. The week before I left to tackle this part of the trip solo, a police helicopter was gunned out of the sky in Rio, buses were set ablaze and at least 17 people killed in fierce drug battles. I was scared, and preparing to fire off a daily text message to my mother back home.
But now here I am. In Rio. Peering out the window of the bus to my hostel, it’s dark, and even though I can’t see the beach, I can’t help feel a few flickers of anticipation.
