The Rio diet

Walking home from the bus stop tonight, I realized that my little blue-and-white swim skirt was sort of falling off my hips. I remember it did that last year here too, then seemed to tighten up again when I was back in the US. And here it is falling off again. I think it is the Rio Sambista Diet-and-Exercise plan again. Today is a typical example:

3am - arrive back at hostel, accept kind offer of leftover half-glass of peach juice from fellow traveller.

Wake up way after the hostel breakfast since I was out till 3am at Salgueiro. Scavenge for breakfast:
1 roll, toasted, w/butter
1 slice melon
The last skinny rolled-up slice of ham
Coffee that has been sitting in the coffeepot for quite a while
(I could have made more coffee but that would have required me to be fully conscious)
Then kick my coffee mug all over the floor accidentally.

Exercise:
Head to beach w/surf tour... I'm not doing a lesson today since my shoulder is sore. I thought instead I would relax for a while, which turns into, half hour swim, watch the surfers, suddenly INTENSELY wish I had decided to do another surf lesson anyway since it looks so fun. Work off my steam by swimming out after them - if I can't surf today I'll just be NEXT to the surfers - and that turns into a huge long session of wave-hopping: wading out into the surf zone and then just entertaining yourself jumping those waves that can be jumped, diving under those that can't. One of my favorite activities in the world. Timing the waves is just so much fun. It feels slightly like being batted around by a lion that is kindly keeping its claws sheathed. Only get tumbled once. Then I have a brainwave and discover I can practice the surf jump-up move underwater.

Hike all the way across the beach to get some lunch:

1 lime sorbet popsicle from beach vendor
1 grilled sandwich from another beach vendor
2 bites very weird banana cake, leave the rest in the sand
1 Skol beer

Hike all the way back.

More exercise: Sit on very bouncy bus, heading into Rio for the Unidos da Tijuca rehearsal tonight, 1.5 hrs. Think stupidly at an intersection where the bus pauses "Gee, that almost sounds like a bateria in the distance" then leap up just as I realize it is Unidos da Tijuca! We're finally there! and I've just missed my stop. The bus whips around a corner and barrels away from Unidos da Tijuca - I can see the glittering lights of all the street vendors getting smaller and smaller, then vanishing into a tiny bright speck in the distance. The bus picks up speed - it's suddenly become one of those Rampaging-Bull-Elephant Rio bus rides. (I think of the buses here as large, galloping bull elephants that are only semi-tame). Finally the bus pauses briefly at an intersection and I leap out. I can just make out the street vendor lights glittering in the far distance. In the heat of the chase, completely forget that Tijuca will be playing all night, and I'm suddenly convinced I'm missing the bateria warming up. I sprint a half-mile in my flipflops back to the escola.

Yay! Got there! - Hey, they haven't even started yet. It was just the pagode warm-up band that I heard. So I have time for dinner:
A small stick of very salty grilled white cheese, from street vendor. (It squeaks in your teeth! One of my little addictions.)
Bottle of water

Time for more exercise:
Squeeze into bateria and magically end up next to repique player. Ask him if I can stay to record, and he asks the mestre, who says yes. Fabulous position between repiques and tamborins! Spend next 2 hrs parading around with Unidos da Tijuca in the darkness of the Avenida Atlantica, and wrestling my way through the crowd, and dancing. I run into some Verde Vai players! - Lauren, who I met last year at Mocidade, and Bethan. Bethan is bursting out of her skin with that crazy desire to PLAY that seizes many of us when we're near an escola - it can be a torment to have to just watch. (Luckily Banga gives me an outlet for this drive.) Plus I meet some French & Germans who turn out to be playing in the Unidos da Tijuca tamborim section, lucky dogs!

At the end of the parade route, the bateria commences a peculiar large turn and the sound truck, along with its trail of several hundred dancing partiers, goes a little wide and everybody spills out into the big street where the buses run. Gradually I realize there is a huge stack of 10 or 15 buses trapped there that can't move because we're all in the way. The sound truck tries to inch out of the way but hundreds of Unidos da Tijuca fans are dancing all around the buses. I'm dancing away and take a picture of the first trapped bus, just thinking it's a great shot, and suddenly realize HEY, THAT'S MY BUS 175 TO RECREIO that only runs once an hour at this time of night. I sprint after it just as it pops free of the crowd and goes barreling away. Damn! Sprint a bit more.

Slow down and start walking. Walk down many wandering, curving dimly lit streets. Where am I? Stumble unexpectedly across Trapiche Gamboa and watch the scene in there for a while, then head out on my wandering search for the bus station again. Once again I am following my own personal travel advice of "It's always wise to wander down strange, dimly lit streets at midnight in Rio, especialy when carrying your camera and sound recorder" I keep tempting fate this way and am always ready to lose everything, but as usual, nothing happens, except that some taxis toot at me, hoping to give me a ride, and I also go past an unexpected pink palace. Just when you thought you were in the warehouse district - a pink palace, surrounded by softly lit palm trees.

I find my way to the bus station eventually after a mile or two of walking. Ask around at bus station and eventually find the 175. It's the one that got away! I haven't missed it - it's waiting here for its next departure time. I have 15 minutes till it leaves. Just enough time for a meal!

Midnight snack at bus station:
Eight Doritos
6 gumdrops

1.5 hour bus ride to Recreio. Wind whipping through the windows. The bus navigates the entire range of Rio that I know - from the Praca Maua area, down past the great theater at Cinelandia, down past the Flamengo and Botafogo beaches, through the great beaches of Copa and Ipa. There were just 2 people on the bus to start with but it's been gradually filling, and now it's completely packed with chattering people. Girls in pretty tanktops and high heels wedge themselves into makeshift seats, perched on the turnstile and the dashboard, crammed in by the dozen, whooping when they're all flung unexpectedly to one side or another. Through the tunnel we go, to the massive favela of Rocinha (half the people exit here), then a long, endless journey through the southern beach towns and slowly the girls all leave.

Deep into the night, the temperature slowly dropping, the wind howling through the bus. There's just 3 people on the bus now - including me and the other guy who got on at the very beginning. The ticket taker is asleep with his head down on the change box (how can he possibly sleep? The bus is shaking and rattling and lurching, tearing down straightaways and heaving around corners in full-on Rampaging Bull Elephant mode again. I watch the bus driver and am impressed with his casually superb control of the bus. They can zip by another bus at 60mph and clear it by literally half an inch; and the way they corner at speed is unbelievable.

...and finally.... Posto 12. I'm the second-to-last person on the bus. I hop off.

2am snack while walking from bus stop to hostel:
5 more gumdrops

Into my tidy little private room at the Rio Surf & Stay hostel, my VERY OWN SHOWER (what luxury!), my VERY OWN FAN, and, amazingly, wireless (I only discovered it this morning). Type up this note. 1 more gumdrop. To bed.