Rio From Heaven

Shortly after Santa Theresa gave me that taste of a hillside view of Rio, I took a bus to Pao de Açucar (Sugar Loaf), a striking hill by the coast. It was as easy as walking a couple of blocks in Centro to where everyone was waiting for a bus and then hopping on the first one headed to the neighborhood of Urca. Bus fares seemed to be mostly the same, at R$2.35 ($1.45AU). I overshot the stop by two blocks when the bus turned into the smaller suburban streets, but it was a pleasant walk back to the plaza. If you want to live in Rio, Urca is the place to buy a house. Quiet, by the beach and full of neat little houses in cool leafy streets.

To ride the cable cars up to Sugar Loaf was about R$22 and certainly worthwhile. An afternoon visit produced a lot of glare off the water as the sun sets behind Christ The Redeemer on Corcovado, so a morning visit would've probably been better. But the view was stunning. The ocean on both sides, fading into mistiness, yachts and sailboats in the bay, the beaches a pale lining on the coast. But more than that, the city itself in the valleys of strangely shaped hills, some soft, others jutting out of the ground dramatically, like Corcovado.

There was only one thing left to do. Corcovado itself.

I Was Lost And Now Am Found

Armed with a basic map ripped out of a Lonely Planet, I jumped on a bus headed towards the direction of Rua Cosme Velho where the train to Corcovado started. I looked out the window, scouring my eyes for street names and landmarks. It was useless though, because Lonely Planet had provided a very lean map when it came to this part of town. A little further, I thought... I guessed. But the bus arrived at its final stop and I was forced to hop off.

I calculated that there must be a walk onwards of about 1km if the little park we had passed was the one marked on the map. A few hundred metres on, I came across an overpass which was not marked on the map. But there was a sign pointing me towards Corcovado so I pressed on.

There was something else the map was lean on, I realized, not long later. Topography, which would've been extremely helpful, was completely absent. It did not indicate at all the kilometre of swimming uphill in 200% humidity that I had to do... or more to the point, that I didn't have to do!

At the end of Rua Cosme Velho, I knew I was completely off. I asked a security guard posted at the entrance of a gated community how I could climb Corcovado. He said, "On foot, go that way, but there is a bondinho." Yes, yes, I answered. Where is the train? He indicated the woman he had been talking to. "She will take you."

The lady led me back down the hill. "Did you climb all the way up here?" she asked. Yes. She laughed. She told me that the station was near the bus terminal. "It is dangerous here," she added seriously, waving her arm about the suburb. Asi? Thanks.

Within fifty metres of the bus station, across the road, was the cog train terminal. I thanked the woman profusely and headed in, hurriedly purchasing my ticket and rushing straight to the kiosk to buy water and a passionfruit slushie. Needless to say, I gave myself a cold headache. Twice.

If Sugar Loaf was spectacular, Corcovado was... more than that. A sweeping panorama of Rio and the Atlantic. It was beautiful. The famous Christ The Redeemer statue stood at its peak of course, towering over the city. The platform and mirador were full of tourists doing his pose while simultaneously melting in the incredible heat. Apparently, it topped out at 39°C at midday, and even at 5pm when the sun had nearly set, it was still floating at 34°C.