After my trip to the banks I came back to my hostel and saw something that made me decide to stay another day here at the cost of losing half a day in Sao Paulo, which was a football match.
Now this is not any normal football match, this is a genuine International football match between Brazil, my favourite team in all the world, against Colombia in the worlds greatest stadium and all for only BR $75, so even if it is right up in the gods and the players look like matchsticks it is the atmosphere that I will be revelling in more than the game itself, though of course I hope that this will be as equally good.
In terms of my travel schedule this means that I will have to catch a night bus to Sao Paulo, a journey of about 6 hours, and have less time at my next destination, but this is no sacrifice at all when I consider that I have nothing fixed or planned to do there other than eating, drinking and taking a quick city tour - especially as all my contacts there have not replied to me in many months!
After paying for my ticket at the hostel I decided that I wanted to take a few photographs of the Botafogo beach and I believe that it is here that the computer game designer of Frogger god his inspiration.
Between my hostel and the beach I had the matter of crossing a road or two, well actually it was 15 lanes, split up into 4, 4, 3, 4 with long narrow islands in between each set of lanes and the traffic on the roads were a nightmare.
You had the slow moving mini vans and medium coaches and buses all competing for best position with their BR $2,10 fixed price labels and list of destinations clearly visible for all to see, though you had to knew where they were before they did you any good.
Then you had the motor cycles, which varied between fast tourists and hot rodders to the snail pace of entire families on bikes on their way to school or perhaps to the shops, who knows.
Next you had the bright yellow taxis, which could be doing any speed between crusing slow for pickups, medium paced for metered journeys or super fast for fixd price jobs, before finally you had the private cars which could be doing any speed they fancied depending on the age of the vehicle.
I have often thought that if you can cross a road in London you can cross anywhere, but here even my well honed skills were put to the test and I would strongly advice anyone with anything in their pockets or on their backs to take the half a mile detour either up or down the road to one of the few crossing points and not to put their life in their hands.
One sight that struck me as a particularly cruel driver on a slightly les busy side road corner was when he had only just missed a girl one way, who then started to cross behind him, well then the driver stopped the car and immediately tried to reversed into a parking space almost knocking her over in the process.
After my near death experience I thought that I would take a trip to the beach in Copacobana and again forgot to take suntan lotion with me so with my back already a light shade of pink I allowed myself only ten minutes front and back but even this was too much and a trip to the chemist to find the Aftersun was my only concern thereafter.
Heading off to Copacobana from Botafogo beach means going the very long way around or to cut through the mountainside at one of the two only roads through, but try as I might I could not see where pedestrians could enter the tunnel, and it was only on my way back that I noticed that seconds before you enter the short tunnel that there was indeed a tiny walkway either side of the motorway heading off into the deep blackness.
Everyone knows that if you visit a beach then for months after you will find sand in the most unlikely of places, however the Rio sand has a habit of reappearing in the same place time and time again. I dusted myself off, took a shower, washed my hair, dusted myself off again and then again the following morning and yet still there is enough sand in my hair and on my back to make a small castle without even trying and the constant rubbing is going to scour my sunburned back like nothing else if I don't manage to get rid of it all before the end of today.
The buses in Rio are a curious breed as they charge by fixed prices and not destinations or stops so an hour ride or a five minute jaunt are the same, which makes travelling on them so much easier as you can see before you board how much their fixed price is and you dont even need to talk to them when you get on, just give them the ticket and proceed through the mini turnstile and take a seat.
However the bad side is that although there are bus stops with numbers on, unlike in Europe where you can also find a map and a timetable here I failed to find a single map or route and so all I could do was go find a main road, wait for a few to go past to see where they were going and in which direction and then once I think I have spotted the one I want take a gamble and hope to recognise the names at the other end.
Once at Copacobana I noticed that the entire coastline was totally filled with high new looking hotels, it would appear that not even a swanky restaurant alone could afford the prime location prices and although this not quite as outrageous as a top Milan, London or New York hotel the cost for a single room here is still far from cheap.
After my short lived trip to the beach I spent the next hour trying to get back to my hostel and once I did I had a quick game on the 9 ball pool table, which was probably about 80 years old and then failing to spot anyone who fancied either a game or even a chat I headed off back to my room to escape the heat and get an early night.
Now this is not any normal football match, this is a genuine International football match between Brazil, my favourite team in all the world, against Colombia in the worlds greatest stadium and all for only BR $75, so even if it is right up in the gods and the players look like matchsticks it is the atmosphere that I will be revelling in more than the game itself, though of course I hope that this will be as equally good.
In terms of my travel schedule this means that I will have to catch a night bus to Sao Paulo, a journey of about 6 hours, and have less time at my next destination, but this is no sacrifice at all when I consider that I have nothing fixed or planned to do there other than eating, drinking and taking a quick city tour - especially as all my contacts there have not replied to me in many months!
After paying for my ticket at the hostel I decided that I wanted to take a few photographs of the Botafogo beach and I believe that it is here that the computer game designer of Frogger god his inspiration.
Between my hostel and the beach I had the matter of crossing a road or two, well actually it was 15 lanes, split up into 4, 4, 3, 4 with long narrow islands in between each set of lanes and the traffic on the roads were a nightmare.
You had the slow moving mini vans and medium coaches and buses all competing for best position with their BR $2,10 fixed price labels and list of destinations clearly visible for all to see, though you had to knew where they were before they did you any good.
Then you had the motor cycles, which varied between fast tourists and hot rodders to the snail pace of entire families on bikes on their way to school or perhaps to the shops, who knows.
Next you had the bright yellow taxis, which could be doing any speed between crusing slow for pickups, medium paced for metered journeys or super fast for fixd price jobs, before finally you had the private cars which could be doing any speed they fancied depending on the age of the vehicle.
I have often thought that if you can cross a road in London you can cross anywhere, but here even my well honed skills were put to the test and I would strongly advice anyone with anything in their pockets or on their backs to take the half a mile detour either up or down the road to one of the few crossing points and not to put their life in their hands.
One sight that struck me as a particularly cruel driver on a slightly les busy side road corner was when he had only just missed a girl one way, who then started to cross behind him, well then the driver stopped the car and immediately tried to reversed into a parking space almost knocking her over in the process.
After my near death experience I thought that I would take a trip to the beach in Copacobana and again forgot to take suntan lotion with me so with my back already a light shade of pink I allowed myself only ten minutes front and back but even this was too much and a trip to the chemist to find the Aftersun was my only concern thereafter.
Heading off to Copacobana from Botafogo beach means going the very long way around or to cut through the mountainside at one of the two only roads through, but try as I might I could not see where pedestrians could enter the tunnel, and it was only on my way back that I noticed that seconds before you enter the short tunnel that there was indeed a tiny walkway either side of the motorway heading off into the deep blackness.
Everyone knows that if you visit a beach then for months after you will find sand in the most unlikely of places, however the Rio sand has a habit of reappearing in the same place time and time again. I dusted myself off, took a shower, washed my hair, dusted myself off again and then again the following morning and yet still there is enough sand in my hair and on my back to make a small castle without even trying and the constant rubbing is going to scour my sunburned back like nothing else if I don't manage to get rid of it all before the end of today.
The buses in Rio are a curious breed as they charge by fixed prices and not destinations or stops so an hour ride or a five minute jaunt are the same, which makes travelling on them so much easier as you can see before you board how much their fixed price is and you dont even need to talk to them when you get on, just give them the ticket and proceed through the mini turnstile and take a seat.
However the bad side is that although there are bus stops with numbers on, unlike in Europe where you can also find a map and a timetable here I failed to find a single map or route and so all I could do was go find a main road, wait for a few to go past to see where they were going and in which direction and then once I think I have spotted the one I want take a gamble and hope to recognise the names at the other end.
Once at Copacobana I noticed that the entire coastline was totally filled with high new looking hotels, it would appear that not even a swanky restaurant alone could afford the prime location prices and although this not quite as outrageous as a top Milan, London or New York hotel the cost for a single room here is still far from cheap.
After my short lived trip to the beach I spent the next hour trying to get back to my hostel and once I did I had a quick game on the 9 ball pool table, which was probably about 80 years old and then failing to spot anyone who fancied either a game or even a chat I headed off back to my room to escape the heat and get an early night.
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