Thursday, June 11, 2015:
Rio Conference Calling, Botanical Gardens,
Discovering Lapa and Santa Teresa:
On the day of my conference
presentation, I arose at 6. 30 am, did some reading in bed (I had downloaded Far From the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy
on my I-Phone), took a shower, ate a hearty breakfast of cereal with
passionfruit yogurt, coffee and fresh fruit, and walked out of my apartment
with growing confidence. In 10 minutes, I was at the hotel just in time for the
Welcome Remarks at 9.00 am sharp by David Rosner and Michael Andregg. And then,
we were off to the room in which my presentation would be made. I had a
Powerpoint Presentation to set up and a paper to fish out and within five
minutes, I was ready to go. Indeed, I turned out to be the first speaker of the
conference and to a crowd of global representatives from many countries (many
of whom were from Saudi Arabia), I was off and running. I spoke for twenty
minutes on “The Clash of Titans: Quasi-Capitalism and Socialism in the
Literature and Cinema of Post-Colonial India”, showed several slides on the
screen and waited for the next three presenters on my panel to strut their
stuff before the house was opened to questions from the floor. I had a very
interesting morning indeed as I listened to the presenters as well as responded
to questions and then within two hours, it was over. My official part in the
conference had concluded. I was free to enjoy the city of Rio at leisure,
attend several more panels and more presentations as and when I chose to and network
with the delegates. I had a small coffee, nibbled at a chocolate and walked out
into a brilliantly warm day for the next excursion on my agenda—a visit to Rio’s famed Botanical Gardens.
Several guide books had recommended
a visit to Rio’s Botanical Gardens as a great place in which to discover rain
forest vegetation. Somehow, I thought I would take a break from urban sprawl
and sprawl instead in vast green acreage, far from the madding crowd. The hotel
receptionist told me that taking public buses would make the journey long and complicated
as it involved a change. He recommended a taxi and got me one for the agreed
price of R30 (approx.. $10). I thought it was a steal but found myself stuck in
awful traffic—thank heavens we had agreed on a price at the start—I was
certain I would have paid double that
had I gone by the meter.
Well, the Botanical Garden was
probably my biggest disappointment in my travels. It was huge—hundreds of acres
were covered with lawns and gardens and at the Entrance from where I purchased
a ticket for R9 (approx. $3), no one informed me that there was a golf cart of
sorts manned by an assistance that ferried people about the park. As it turned
out, I was presented with a bilingual map and after surveying it for a while,
decided to begin by a walk through the Parade of Imperial Palms—so-called
because they were planted by King Dom Pedro II of Pprtugal when he moved his
capital from Lisbon to Rio to escape the onslaught of Napoleon II in 1820. He
chose to plant palms as a manifestation of Portugal’s colonial might. These
tower above the visitors’ heads today and are quite the tallest palms I have
ever seen.
Next, I
intended to see the Orchidarium (as orchids are my favorite flower). But after
a long and very hot walk past many sculptured members of royalty, a gushing
musical cascade, an arbor strung over with creeping vines, I had a huge disappointment
awaiting me. The Orchidarium was closed because it was being renovated in time
for the Olympics. While workers painted the inside walls of the green house in
a brilliant white, I consoled myself with the thought that there were not many
orchids to be seen anyway as it is winter in Rio.
Instead, I was compensated for my
disappointment by sighting a vast family of marmosets—small, black,
tufted-eared monkeys, that were raiding a garbage bin, helping themselves to
the contents before swinging up and huge a wide banyan tree. They were simply
adorable and I ended up taking a bunch of pictures. They were the only wildlife
I saw that morning although brochures state that the Botanical Gardens are a
haven of bird life.
I continued walking for at least the
next hour as I inspected the varied offerings of this space, but nothing impressed
me. Looking for a rest area to nibble on my ham and cheese sandwiches, I bought
a bottle of cold water and picnicked in the company of a group of middle school
kids on a field trip with their teachers. Finally, my visit ended with a nip
into another glass house to see carnivorous plants that devoured insects that
settled on them. I had never seen anything like these and was amazed to find
succulents with tiny insects actually embedded in their waxy leaves. Another
long stroll under the Imperial Palms brought me to the entrance of the gardens from
where I looked for a bus to get me to the center of town. I ran into two
tourists from Portugal who were looking for a bus stop too and we soon found out
that we had to walk a good ten minutes to find the correct one. Eventually,
however, when a bus marked ‘Gloria’ trundled along, I hopped in and was so
delighted to find that it was air-conditioned and did not cost me more than the
standard R3. 40. It was a very long and winding bus route indeed but again, I
was in no hurry and thoroughly enjoyed the coolness of my confines, the
opportunity to rest my feet and survey the wide-spread city.
The bus dropped me in Gloria, just a
block away from my apartment, and I was amazed at the joy with which I
anticipated an afternoon nap. For indeed, I have to say that the heat was quite
enervating indeed and I found myself feeling quite drained by mid-day. I made
myself a cold chocolate milk shake, settled in front of the TV to enjoy it, did
a bit of reading and then took a half hour’s nap.
Discovering Lapa and Santa Teresa
On Foot:
With the early evening stretching ahead
of me and the temperature having cooled down somewhat, I decided to go out in
search of the highlights of the two neighborhoods adjacent to Gloria called Lapa
and Santa Teresa. There were several structures in these areas that demanded
inspection and I was keen to comply.
I walked first to the Church of Our
Lady of Lapa (Igrejia de Nossa Senhora de
Lapa) which is appealingly antiquated on its corner location within striking
distance from the far more dominating Arcos
de Lapa or Lapa Acqueduct. Inside, I found an extremely old and very ornate
Portuguese church adorned with ceramic tiles. Its altar was in the Portuguese
mode with which I had become familiar on my travels in Portugal as well as in
Goa, India: several step-like tiers climb to the top where a statue of the deity
to whom the church is dedicated is placed. I spent some time in prayer, admired
the splendid interior with its multiple statues and then left.
Just
across the street from the church is a nondescript lane that leads to one of Lapa’s
most intriguing attractions: the Selaron Staircase. Although it was already 4.00 pm, scores of
tourists were making their way to the end of the lane where the staircase was
clearly visible. They are the handiwork of Chilean artist Jorge Selaron who
described them as his “tribute to the Brazilian people”. In 1990, Selaron began
to renovate the delapidated staircase running outside his house with brightly
colored tiles representing the Brazilian flag. Initially, people laughed at
him, but the project soon became his obsession and he neglected his primary
work as a painter to create the staircase.
Very
soon, Selaron was joined in the project by visitors from around the world who
warmed to the idea and began donating tiles representative of their countries.
In the 250 steps, there are today about 2000 embedded tiles. The steps that
begin in Lapa, an old and rather run-down part of town, go up to the heights of
Santa Teresa where there is a small shrine. Selaron began to see the project as
never-ending. Every few months, he would start over an area that had already
been completed—as a result, it is a constant work-in-progress. Today, tourists
pose, as I did, on the steps and closely inspect the many tiles that represent
so many different countries. It is a lovely idea on global ecumenism and
collaboration and certainly a sight to be seen in Rio. No wonder bus tours
bring loads of tourists from all over the world to grab an eyeful.
The Aqueduct of Lapa:
From the steps, at the end of the
lane, the Aqueduct of Lapa is only a few steps away. This is a towering
structure that is reminiscent of the Pont du Gard in the South of France. It is
built in two tiers and is freshly painted in cream (perhaps for the Olympics?).
I took several pictures before attempting to make my way to the end of it in order
to board the famous tram that would carry me up Santa Teresa hill.
No such luck! I discovered that the
tram has been temporarily discontinued as fresh track is being laid down on the
hill of Santa Teresa…you guessed it, in time for the Olympics! My plans were
dashed again, but as I walked under the aqueduct to enter the very happening
neighborhood of club-infested, bohemian Lapa, I spied a Tourist Information
booth and hurried to it. The sweet assistant told me there in broken English
that I could catch a bus that would follow the same route as the tram and take
me up to Santa Teresa—this neighborhood offers lovely views of the city as well
as the charm of old architecture and well-preserved old houses.
With darkness falling swiftly (around
5. 30 pm), I followed his directions, found the bus-stop and boarded the bus.
And then I had to hang on for dear life because the driver kept pretending he
was in Grand Prix! He went around the hair pin bends of the hills of Santa
Teresa at top speed, came frequently to sudden frantic jerking stops and seemed
to be having the time of his life. I had believed that only auto-rickshaw drivers
in India were demented—but these beat them hands down! I had been advised to
get off at Guimares Square and had told the driver to let me out when I got
there. I have to say that despite my fears of dying in a bus collision, I quite
enjoyed the ride.
But
I was rather disappointed when we arrived at Guimares and I was told to get
off. There I was in what seemed like a
gigantic construction zone. The uprooting of the tram tracks left deep trench-like
trails on the hill top, the lighting was barely there, the area was almost
deserted but for a few people awaiting a bus on the opposite side. There were a
few desultory restaurants doing faint business but I could not, for the life of
me, find anything even remotely interesting and wondered why I had made the
wild trek up there.
Eventually
I did find a store assistant who could speak a bit of English and she advised
me to walk down the hill towards the two museums for which the area is famed.
It was close to 7.00 pm by then and both museums would be closed at that hour.
However, she said, their grounds afforded lovely views of the city lying in what
appeared to be a carpet of gold and silver lights and I got a few good views.
But it really wasn’t anything to write home about and, once again, I found myself
worrying about personal safety as the area was almost deserted and the few
folks I did pass were of the dodgy sort.
It
was best to find the bus stop that would take me back to Lapa and I lost no
time in looking for one. Fortunately, a bus arrived in under a minute and
climbing in, I was deposited back downhill to Lapa from where I began the brisk
walk home to my apartment. En route, I stopped at one of the casual eateries
(run by the Chinese Mafia in Rio, as Rosana informed me!) and bought myself a
ham and cheese roll and a chicken puff for a mere couple of dollars. A few feet
ahead, I saw a man with a cart selling Churros—the deep-fried dough treat to
which I had become introduced in Spain during our travels there. These were
made on a tube like machine and inside each tube either dulche de leche (caramel) or chocolate sauce was squirted. I chose
one of each for just R2 each and thrilled with my dinner, made my way home. The
churros were outstanding and I resolved to buy them if I ever saw the cart again.
Once again, the TV in Portuguese kept me company while I prepared for bed after
what had been a rather disappointing day discovery-wise but a very satisfying
professional one.
Until
tomorrow, Ciao!
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