Bem-vindos ao Brasil

After a long flight pleasantly devoid of any unnecessary complications, Ben and I managed to meet at the Rio de Janeiro International Airport and even made it to our new temporary headquarters without getting lost or ripped off. Brazil greeted us with mild temperatures, sunshine and the stench of seafood soup.

As I am typing this, I am sitting at a typical aluminium table on a typical aluminium chair seen in cafeterias throughout the Iberian Peninsula and the Latin American world. I find it amazing that one can still see so many cultural similarities between Southern European countries and their former colonies. Those similarities make it even harder to grasp that I am actually about to embark on a journey on an unknown continent: I feel like I am in “yet another” hispanic country – I am sure this will change very soon as I immerse in this country’s culture and see the differences.

At this point, the reader can safely presume that I made it through customs without too much hassle, and rightly so – even though I had to cut a hole in my bike box to show the customs officer that I am not smuggling a new bike into Brazil. Luckily enough, a quick peek into the bike box sufficed to convince her that the trusty Villiger was indeed my bike. Other than that, immigration was a breeze and it seems my equipment has survived the transfer to South America without any substantial damage.

Runner-up for the most oddly shaped piece of luggage that day.

Ben arrived a mere four hours after I first set foot on Brazilian soil, and I was glad to see that he had made it through customs as well (even though he had to open his bike box in the States and Brazil).

Out of focus and still smiling.

After a rather confusing conversation with the employees at the airport tourist office that left us with more questions than answers, we abandoned the plan to assemble our bikes right away and ride into town. Apparently, cyclists are prone to having rocks thrown at them and getting mugged in some areas along the way.

Instead, we took a cab. Thank heavens our host, Greg, had told us what fare to expect for a ride to his place, and so we were able to lower the scandalous price of the cab drivers to something more realistic – even though we had to walk away from the drivers to make the fare negotiable. Still, upon arrival, the driver asked for more than we had agreed upon. It seems you have to haggle constantly in this city (or at least during World Cup).

Squeezed into the back of a taxi between two bikes and still smiling.

A grin formed on our faces as we climbed the stairs to Greg’s apartment. It is located on the rooftop of one of the tall buildings typical of the Ipanema neighborhood and surrounded by a rooftop terrace.

Our home for the first days.

From one side, one can even see the ocean. A soccer pitch squeezed onto the rooftop of an adjacent building serves as a picturesque illustration to the Brazilians’ love for this sport.

Rooftop soccer courts are a common sight in Rio.

We spent the remain of the afternoon on the beach, indulging in local delicacies such as acarajé and a pizza with cheese since I don’t eat any seafood. After that, we started peeling and carving shrimps for Greg’s first attempt at bouillabaisse. I was told that it turned out delicious. It is really sad that I cannot eat the seafood everybody here seems to be enjoying so much.

I never pictured myself peeling enough shrimp to fill a whole box.

Not my favorite way to start the evening, but the learning curve is steep and of course we wanted to show our gratitude for the incredible hospitality we are experiencing. If things go as planned, we will be putting the sleeping pads on the rooftop and sleep under the stars tonight.