I had the amazing good fortune of travelling to Rio de Janeiro in November of 1988. I was all of 27. Had just completed teaching an undergraduate course in Elementary Education at the University of Kentucky. I decided to use the money I'd made for an adventure! And the first stop was Rio.
Part of what influenced that choice was an acquaintance I had made at a local Christian Seminary through the young man who sublet a room in my home at the time. Jonathan attended Asbury Seminary and he brought Mauricio home to work on a project and thus we met. Mauricio demonstrated a uniquely warm character towards me. A connection on his part that would only come to light many years later and to his unrequited disappointment, but; hey...sometimes that's just how the cookie crumbles.
Notwithstanding that underlying energy, Mauricio was very generous in his creating connections for me in Rio among his longtime friends there. One example was a trio who took it upon themselves to take me on an overnight adventure including visits to a local rain forest park and the former summer capitol of Petropolis nestled in the cooler mountains some distance above coastal Rio de Janeiro.
The other great connection was a woman who lived in Rio and had a spare room in her condo that she typically used to host young Brazilians who were attending a local seminary in Rio. As fortune would have it, she was in between long-term guests and was happy to offer the space to me for my stay. I wish to Hell I'd written her name down, because to not recall it is a true sorrow to me now. She was a psychologist by training, as was her departed husband. At one point they'd had a therapy practice, now in retirement and on her own she spent her time supporting young Christians seeking ordination and other charitable works. I recall that I expected to find her a warm and easy to relate to
person. She was not.
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| Edificio Palacia Champs Elysees, Avenida Atlantica 2856 |
She was all business. Not cold, but not someone who felt the need to jump in to help. She believed in the power of productive struggle. My first hint was that she didn't have any plan for meeting me at the airport other than directions to the train that would take me to a station where I would get a cab and come to her address. She and her husband were successful in their careers and traveled for both business and pleasure to the U.S. and Europe back in the day. So how hard could it be?
Now here's what I didn't expect. She lived in an apartment building called "Edificio Palacio Champs Elysees" on Avenida Atlantica 2856. This was a 13-story tall apartment built in 1950 with units that faced right out to the Altantic Ocean on Copacabana Beach! Other units faced the backside of the building, with a view of the building behind it across an access alley. Her apartment was on the 12 floor on the backside of the building and my guest room had a window that was perpetually shrouded in shade. But it was free!
November in Rio is like May in New York City. The weather is leaning toward summer temps. There was no AC and the days were quite warm, so a fan and an open window were nearly requirements at night. And here's the wonderful thing about being in a little room on the backside of the 12th floor of the Edificio Palacio Champs Elysees in Rio de Janeiro--Rio NEVER SLEEPS! The noise, the music, the traffic, the car horns, the screams, the shouts, the laughter just ebb and flow all night long finally subsiding around 4:45 AM when--what for it; the first goddamned rooster crows!!
And yet, here I was. In this most storied place...dead center on Copacabana Beach! I could walk out of the front doors of the building, across the divided Avenida Atlantica and feel the sand of the beach between my toes as I walked toward to surf. Me. A kid from Flat Rock, Michigan. My heart and mind were on overload for the entire 9 days.
My Flight to South Africa was scheduled for Sunday afternoon, November 20th. I planned to spend Saturday the 19th at my host's apartment resting from all the adventures. A time to collect my thoughts. On Friday the 18th, she invited a friend over for dinner to meet me. It was an interesting meal. They two of them scrutinized my faith and at one point insisted on praying for me. This is when I discovered that she was also Pentecostal in her persuasion of the faith. Okay, been there done that. And even as tired as I was, I played along. Once that was established the meal continued on a pleasant, more casual note.
Well, until she asked me if there were anything I wished I would have seen/done while I was in Rio. It was not a difficult question. I replied that I was sad not to have gone to the top of Sugar Loaf Mountain (that iconic dome made from the remnants of an ancient volcano's lava crown). She perked up. That would be her gift to me. Tomorrow we would go to Sugar Loaf. Only one condition. I was not to take my camera.
WHAT!? Why?
"Because," she said, "They will steal it from you."
"Who will steal from me?" I asked.
"The gangs," she said as if talking to an idiot.
"The gangs," I repeated, like an idiot.
"Yes!" she insisted. "Gangs! They are everywhere. They will steal anything. You cannot take your camera."
"If I cannot take my camera, then I don't want to go." My line in the sand.
"What do you mean?" she asked incredulously. Hadn't she just made a case for why the camera was a bad idea?
"What you're saying doesn't make any sense," I retorted. "Everyone brings a camera on their visit to Sugar Loaf. Are their gangs of thieves just hanging around at the entrance waiting to steal cameras?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "They steal them on the top."
"On the top of the mountain?" I asked.
"Yes," she said with renewed confidence. "They steal them on the top."
I would pay a pretty penny for a picture of my face at this moment. I said, "So, gangs are at the top of the mountain. They steal cameras. And then what? They throw them off the side to someone waiting below?"
Hrrrmph! She was tiring of the debate.
"Look," I said, "I will take full responsibility for whatever happens to my camera, if you will allow me to bring it along with us."
She was softening a little.
"And," I continued seeing a crack in her demeanor, "I will keep the camera as inconspicuously as possible on the way to the top and back."
She mulled the offer over. It was clear that I wasn't going to back down. After what felt like a long time, she agreed.
The parking lot at the base of the tram that will take you to the top of Sugar Loaf Mountain in Rio de Janeiro.
It's a two tram process. Here I'm looking back down to the base as I head up to the first mound.
There is a park of sorts on the top of the first mound with a pathway to the next tram and a great view of Sugar Loaf in the distance. At no time did I see any gangs.
And even from this lower platitude, there are great views of the city and coastline.
In the air, on our way to the top!
These are the best views of Rio. Looking back to the south there is the small cove, and behind that is Copacabana Beach. My host's building is a little past midway facing the beach proper.
The view on the other side captures much of Guanabara Bay with its fleet of privately owned yachts (even back in 1988!). Coronado with the Christ statue is on the peak to the left. Rio's other Icon.
Visit accomplished. Camera intact. It's time to go "home" and prep for tomorrow's leg of this journey. Next stop: Cape Town, South Africa.
