Red Hot Rio page 2
5pm- It’s still hot outside, but the water’s cold. The huge waves are crashing a little to close to the shore to surf. I head back to my room to prepare for dinner and a night of festivities before Meg’s arrival.
Ana takes me to a chic restaurant called ‘Melt’ around 9pm and then we pick up a friend of hers, Laura, to go to a big Samba rehearsal party. Every year, various Samba schools compete during Carnival and the real fun lies in catching these preparatory rehearsals, often held in a semi-open gymnasium. It almost reminds me of a High School dance except there’s eight women for every guy, at least until midnight, when the place really starts to fill up. The massive percussion section makes standing still impossible. You must dance and that is exactly what we do.
“During carnival they say that no one belongs to anyone.” You might think Laura was flirting with me but she’s not. This is a natural, not loaded, comment for Cariocas (people from Rio) to make.
We then head to a club that’s in a former brothel in the hilly middle of nowhere. This enormous place is cool—art installations in various rooms, pool tables, a dance floor and an outdoor courtyard to hangout, drink beer and watch the people. There’s no typical Brazilian look as the people seem more diverse than New York in terms of skin and hair color (and that says a lot). But by and large, they are an attractive lot.
I see the time has arrived to pick up Meg at the airport but there is a slight problem. Roger has somehow let the battery die on the van. Together, Roger and I push the van away from the curb on this steep street so that he might attempt to pop the clutch while rolling downhill in reverse. Impressively, he does so and we actually arrive before Meg at the airport.
January 13, 4am
Meg looks great for someone who is obviously exhausted and I’m relieved to see her. I always worry when we travel separately. Safe in the mini-van, we make our way to the hotel until we see three cars parked at an angle across the highway to narrow the road to one lane. Several men with machine guns look over the cars as we pass and for a brief, frightening moment it feels like we’re in the movie “Proof of Life.” These are only impromptu Police checkpoints and I suppose we should be comforted. We’re not.
January 14, noon
Two days here and I feel more comfortable about my surroundings. I have this sublime sense of everything falling into place. I already know the production staff here in Rio and have made friends with a few of the beach vendors. We eat and we shop. Mostly, we eat. The Brazilian rodizio system brings buffet eating to a new height of gluttony. First there is a buffet with everything except meat. Sushi, salad- you name it. Then, men with skewers of beef come around to your table offering various types of grilled meat. As long as you keep the green side up of this coaster-like signaling circle, the food keeps on coming. In short, it’s a meat lover’s paradise.
