After a short flight from the lovely airport in Salvador which had hammocks in place of hard plastic seats, we arrived in Rio de Janeiro. We had quite a lot of trepidation about this place after so many negative comments about safety which is a bit of a shame. In fact the first thing we saw at the Mango Tree Ipanema beach hostel was the sign on the door saying do not take anything to the beach, no cards, no phones, only minimum cash – and the guidebook didn’t help by warning of thieves sweeping the beach and robbing everyone.

We headed straight to Ipanema Beach for a sunset beer and found we were the only people sitting on the sand – everyone else was on plastic chairs. In fact it was packed full of groups of people on chairs, spread out along the 2.6km beach which is helpfully marked by 12 postos (posts) – as well as being markers for directions, they help define the type of crowd that hang out in each area (Helen named ours the Hot Boys flag which we assumed was a gay area).

There is a noticeable police presence on the beaches, with the officers on segways and ready for the chase in their shorts and trainers but we didn’t see any trouble, only nice friendly people.

Not wanting to waste a Friday night in Rio but with zero atmosphere at the hostel (we even sent a message like losers in the hostel group chat which went ignored!) we asked at the desk where would be good for live music and safe for the two of us to go alone. The woman directed us to a place in Catete, half an hour away by metro and said it’s perfectly safe to walk home from the station after midnight… in Rio… I guess it’s all relative and probably no worse than Archway! It was surprisingly easy to navigate Rio’s equivalent of the tube, once someone had showed us how to actually tap in that is. It was less easy to find a particular bar without a map and when it’s hidden by crowds of people outside. Instead of a bar with live samba, what we had actually gone to was a more like a street party with vendors selling drinks and portaloos. The bar had opened it’s doors for a band that hadn’t started yet and the crowd was shoulder to shoulder busy. We had a drink and people watched for a bit, only managing to hear the music for a short time before we had to leave to get the last tube home. At least we tried – we didn’t end up in a favela and we seemed to be the only tourists there, plus it felt more comfortable at midnight in Rio than 5pm in Salvador.

We only had two full days in Rio when you could easily fill a week, so the first thing we did was buy online tickets for the train up to Christ The Redeemer at 10.40 am the next day. We did this because the Lonely Planet and various websites said you cannot buy tickets at the gate. First fail – we went out for breakfast to a place we had found on Google Maps literally around the corner only to find it wasn’t there, and everywhere else was still closed (still not sure what Brazilians do in the mornings). Rushed back to the hostel after a dash for coffee and bananas and called an Uber. Fail number two – when I actually read the e-ticket for the train I found it said to arrive half hour early for “check in”, when we now had 15 mins to get there. Fail number three – we had discussed and decided that there was no need to print the e-tickets, so we set off in the Uber. Halfway there I realised that those same e-tickets were on our phones – the phones that we had left safely locked away in the hostel. I found this so funny I was actually crying, which Helen and the bemused taxi driver mistook for real tears. Cue us arriving at the station to a massive queue snaking around the side of the building and realising nobody actually abides by the half hour early rule nor do the trains actually run on a timetable – this is Brazilian time. When we eventually reached the front of the line and managed to communicate we had forgotten our tickets, I remembered I had actually had the sense to pack a copy of my passport – which the lovely staff used to look up our tickets and let us on the next train. Although it was slightly humiliating pulling out an A4 sized passport copy (thanks Dad for printing it out full size last time I went travelling!!!). It turned out you can actually buy tickets on the day and regardless you end up in the same neverending four different queues for the same train. Fail number four – try not to time it with the cruise ships 🤦🏻‍♀️

When we finally got up there about two hours later it was worth it – both for the views of the city and Sugar Loaf mountain, and the feeling of staring up at the imposing Christ against the clouds. It was also entertaining to see hundreds of people doing the arms out pose – if you can’t beat ‘em join ‘em!

I couldn’t come to Rio without also going to Copacabana Beach even thought it’s not actually related to the song, and it was only a half hour or so walk around the coast. Copacabana was a bit more laid back than Ipanema with less chairs!

We also couldn’t waste a Saturday night in Rio but still hadn’t made any friends so we took the hostel’s advice again to see a live band with Forro dancing (traditional style of dance a little similar to salsa). Not wanting to arrive too early like the previous night, we got there late – too late in fact as the music had almost finished. But it didn’t matter – it was a really nice experience, not at all touristy and provided the chance to have street food (even a vegan version of Akara), craft beer for Helen and the strongest Capirinha yet served in a jam jar for me for a couple of quid. We blended in with the locals in colourful clothes and flipflops. What I love about Brazil is that you see all these ridiculously colourful clothes in the shops and then you see everyone actually wearing them – toucans, parrots, jaguars, flowers, bananas, the more the better.

Our second day (Sunday) was spent like locals with a laid back brunch (finally had the famed Açai) and browsing around a market (in search of the perfect Toucan Dress) before hiring rust buckets of bicycles and cycling around the lake.

The plan was to get the Cable Car up Sugar Loaf mountain in the afternoon but it was really cloudy, so instead we grabbed an Uber to the museum to catch the last hour of opening. Great, I thought, we can walk around the old town as well and follow the self guided walk in the book. No, we can’t – as it says in the book the area is unsafe at weekends when it’s completely deserted. As our taxi drove through the area, I could see why.

Any ideas of rushing up Sugar Loaf on the last morning went out the window as there was packing and breakfast and shopping to be done – Havaianas for five pounds if you can resist the upselling to customise them with toucan and pineapple and banana pins (Helen could not). I would definitely come back to Rio in future as I’d like to see the centre, take the Santa Catarina tram and explore other neighbourhoods. But for us, for now, time to move on to the island called Isla Grande….