Last Bits and Bobs of Rio Sightseeing Accomplished!
I
awoke on my last full day in Rio and took stock of my fridge—I needed to finish
all my food supplies before I left my apartment at 6 pm for the taxi ride to
the airport for my flight home. Yes, Siree Bob –all good things must come to an
end and I had made use of every available moment in the Marvelous City and felt
ready to get back home. Brekkie was all the bits and bobs I could rustle up
including muesli with milk, croissant sandwiches (some of which I packed up for
lunch and then early dinner as I would not be airborne till 10.00 pm).
I spent the next hour packing,
cleaning up my apartment and getting the garbage ready for disposal. I wanted
to leave the place as pristine as it had been given me. Only when I felt all
set to return to my apartment and leave immediately for the airport, did I
shower, change and get out for the last time to see those parts of the city
that I had not yet covered.
The
first item on my agenda was the Metropolitan Cathedral of Rio, an unmistakable
conical building that I could see from a distance every time I walked through
the neighborhood. When I did get there, about 15 minutes later, I found a lot
of people sprinkled around the pews in prayer. The Cathedral is a magnificent
modern prayerful space that has no supporting pillars within. Four huge stained
glass windows run from floor to the ceiling. They sport contemporary designs in
keeping with the general design of the church. Each is in a dominant color:
red, yellow, blue, green. The overall design is quite ingenious as it seats 5,000
people with standing room for 20,000! The catehdra
or Cardinal’s Chair is very prominent in the front. Although I am not usually
fond of modern churches, I thought this one was pretty special.
On my way towards Cinelandia Square,
which was the next item on my agenda—all within easy walking distance from
where I lived—I passed by another striking Gothic-style church. It turned out
to the Presbyterian Church of Rio and it had a wonderful sculpture in the front
featuring the Brazilian priest who introduced the Presbyterian denomination to
the country. I stepped inside briefly to take in the interior design which reminded
me of most American Congregational churches. It is wonderful how in these spiritual
places one can really turn off the bustle of the city and find quiet solace.
Within
five minutes of leaving the church, I was in the lovely environs of Cinelandia
Square—so-called because it is surrounded by cinema houses and in the 1930s
became the center of movie-going in Rio. A few of the theaters that encircle
the square still screen films. Dominated by the equestrian statue of Dom Pedro
I, the monument in the center of the square reminded me very much of the Albert
Memorial in Hyde Park, London, especially because it was flanked by four
sculptures each of which represented a different South American river. Those
sculptures are spectacular being surrounded, as they are, by native
indigenous people of the rain forest. Other than taking pictures, however,
there was not much to do. Besides the square was filled with Rio’s homeless and
other dodgy sorts and I did not feel like lingering too long in those
surroundings.
Inside the Real Gabinete Portugual de Leiture:
My next port of call, also just five
minutes away, up Avenida Passos, was the original Portuguese colonial library
that was built in the ornate Manueline style in 1837. But en route to finding it, I passed by yet another church—by this
time, I have to say that although I visited each of them, I found it hard to
remember their names and the features that made them distinctive. In downtown
Rio, there is literally a church every two blocks. Indeed each starts merging into
the other but for anyone looking for places to pause in prayer, there is no
dearth in Rio.
The library which was just one
street away on Rua Luis Camoes is grand from the outside and quite simply
spectacular within. I noticed several other foreign visitors making a beeline for
the space for indeed it is one of Rio’s hidden gems and I was mighty glad I had
read several guidebooks that recommended a visit. Inside, I found myself entering
a vast Gothic-style hall that reminded me immediately of the Pierpont Morgan
Library in New York. In this cavernous room, there are over 150,000 antique,
leather-bound books, paintings, sculpture and quite the largest wrought-iron
chandelier I have ever seen. This can dip down all the way to the floor so that
candles could be fitted into it and lighted and then the entire contraption is
raised up to the ceiling to illuminate the space. Needless to say, in this day
and age, fire of any sort is not allowed in the building which is fully
electrified. Just to walk around the space and take in the two-tiered splendor of
the library made my morning seem well spent. I would heartily urge every
visitor to Rio not to miss this architectural gem. As it is still a working library
for scholars doing historic study, it was nice to see readers pouring over
manuscripts. Among its many treasures is a first edition of Portuguese poet
Luis Camoes’ O Lusidas—which I had
also seen in Portugal.
My next visit was to yet another church—the Church
of St. Francis of Paula which wears its age quite visibly on its sleeve—it is
old and grey and faded, both inside and out. I was pleased to find it open as
on another morning I had passed by and found its doors firmly shut. Here too
the square surrounding the church is filled with seedy characters whiling away
their time. In many ways, I was reminded of Bombay as I passed through these rubbish-lined
streets.
A walk down one of the nearby lanes
called Rue de Ouvidor then brought me, quite by chance, to another
confectionary and coffee shop that had been written up in my guidebook: the Casa Cave. This chic French patisserie has
been a Rio institution for centuries and after a recent thorough refurbishment
looks spanking new. Inside, there were patrons flush with cash, sipping their
coffee and savoring pastries and cakes. I would, no doubt, have enjoyed one
such treat had I not been so stuffed after my fairly recent breakfast. So I
regretfully toured the inside casually and moved on.
My very last bits of sightseeing
included two old and very beautiful churches perched high on a high overlooking
the Carioca Metro station and it was there that I next headed. The Convent of
St. Anthony is one of the oldest churches in Rio—it dates from the 1500s and
the present church was built between 1506-1511. You take an elevator to the top
if you do not wish to climb the winding hillside route that gets you to the
church entrance. Inside, I found that Mass was in progress and that the church
was fairly full. I did not linger long inside the church but did take the
elevator to get down to the floor level again. Outside, I made a sharp left
turn with the intention of seeing the Church of St. Francis, but als, it is
closed on Mondays and I could not get inside.
It was about this time that the
first drops of rain hit my head. I was grateful, therefore, to escape into the
Underground train and ride it all the way to Ipanema with the idea of going in
search of souvenir flipflops for a few close folks. But in the half hour that
it took me to reach there, the heavens had opened big time and the drizzle had
developed into a steady downpour. The temperature also fell dramatically and it
turned quite chilly.
Not having an umbrella with me, I
had little choice but to brave the raindrops and off I went determinedly
looking for the shop called Hawaianas.
It was not long before I selected several pairs of slipflops which are mandatory
beach gear on the sands of Rio—those together with the skimpiest bikinis and sarongs
are the customary wear and I was happy to pick up some really colorful pairs
for only a few dollars.
With my goodies tucked in a bag, I passed
by the snazzy stores of Ipanema and made my way to the metro station for the
return ride home. I might have stayed longer but the rain put all such plans at
bay. Half an hour later, I was home, eating a sandwich lunch, almost finishing
up the last of my ice-cream and getting my bags organized for departure. I
managed to do a good bit of reading while waiting for Rosana who was scheduled
to arrive at 6.00 pm to put me in a cab, take ahold of her keys and say goodbye
to me.
Promptly at 6.00 pm, my doorbell
rang and despite the rain (which would have made the finding of a cab
challenging), Rosana arrived and put me into a waiting vehicle. Our goodbye was
swift as the rain put paid to any lingering. I handed over the key to the place
that had been my home for about a week and in the pouring rain, I thanked her for
her enormous hospitality and left the city of Rio behind me to take the highway
to the Galeao airport.
Traffic was awful since it was rush
hour, but in a little more than an hour, I was safely deposited at the airport
and went in search of my flight. There is little of interest to tell about
another routine flight. Dinner was served, I watched a truly fabulous film
called The Changeling featuring
Angelina Jolie and began another—but then I fell asleep for a good four hours
and by the time we were hovering over US soil, it was time for breakfast and disembarkation.
Rio de Janeiro was every bit as
pretty as I had been led to expect. It was predictable—a BRIC nation, like
India, poised for progress—but it was also full of surprises. I felt that I did
get to know it intimately if briefly and my living like the local Cariocas had
a lot to do with it. In commuting like they do, in buses and on the Metro, in frequenting
the locales that they do (the beaches, the busy commercial streets, the historic
coffee shops and bakeries), I had experienced their daily routine. In poking
into their churches, museums, restaurants and gardens, I received a very good
idea of how they lived. I had tasted traditional Brazilian food and cocktails,
lived in a typical Rio apartment building with local residents (instead of in
an antiseptic hotel), I had rustled up simple meals in my own little space (which
made me feel quite like a resident). I had spent time with local friends who
enlightened me constantly on their lifestyle, customs and ways of life. In using every second as productively as
possible, I notched up dozens of miles on my pedometer—yes, I walked an average
of 6 and a half miles every day with my record on a single day being 7 and a half
miles! Yes, in
the final analysis, I came away from Rio as much more than a visitor.
For a little while at least I did
feel truly like a Carioca. And for that opportunity I am truly grateful.
Many thanks for following me on this
journey as an armchair traveler. It is because you have always been a faithful follower
of my blog posts that I feel motivated to continue to write them. For the
moment, I say Ciao…
May the road always rise up to meet
you…
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