In 1502 a Portuguese expedition exploring the coast of Brazil arrived at the mouth of what they erroneously believed to be a great river flowing out into the Atlantic between two headlands (which was later revealed to be Guanabara Bay). The expedition arrived in January and clearly the captain had limited imagination because he named the area January River (Rio de Janeiro).
Brazil is very different from the other South American countries Christi and I have visited so far. While Spanish-speaking Argentina, for example, has a strong European influence, is wedded to the siesta, and has delicious gastronomic delights at every turn, Portuguese-speaking Brazil (at least in the South) pulses with economic success and wants to emulate if not ultimately overtake North America. Much of Brazil lives on the coast (a long way from the Spanish-dominated interior of South America) and has strong international ties. Admittedly the food in Brazil is nothing to write home about, but Brazilians are very health-conscious and have some of the most beautiful bodies you’ll find anywhere. Rio is also a gregarious city (at least when it isn’t raining) with life played out on the streets – or more accurately on such iconic beaches as Copacabana and Ipanema. Now if the stormy weather would only subside we may actually get to enjoy some of those famous beach bodies; sorry, I mean the beach culture.
While I’m dreaming of Copacabana beach, Christi insists upon experiencing the local cuisine. She wants feijoada (Brazil’s national dish) at a popular neighborhood restaurant, Marisqueira. Pork stew with rice and beans sounds yummy. What nobody mentions, however, is that the stew contains every part of the pig, including the chewy tails, ears, and trotters. Have you ever had a curly pig’s tail stuck in your teeth? Christi raves about the place, stating that it’s her second favorite restaurant in South America after La Barra in Mendoza, but since she’s been drinking caipirinhas her opinion is suspect.
By the time we’ve finished lunch (and mine goes on long after we’ve left the restaurant), the weather has perked up and we decide to explore Copacabana beach. We even dip our pinky toes into the warm waters of the tropical Atlantic as massive breakers crash along the shore. A few hardy souls make it onto the beach, but there are few sightings of those Copacabana girls I’ve heard so much about (I’m teary-eyed again). Aside from small beachside shacks selling drinks and snacks there is surprisingly little commercialization of the waterfront – nothing like the Venice Boardwalk experience in Southern California. All in all, though, things are looking up in Rio.
Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart, a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching tale.
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