Journey's End. And Barry Manilow
'I'm sitting in a railway station, got a ticket for my destination.'
Well, almost. I’m in the departure lounge in Rio airport, about to board my final flight. Well final two flights as for some reason BA fly south to Sao Paolo (where a plane recently skidded off the runway) before heading to London, dizzy London. I’m wapping away to see who’ll be in the final of the world matchplay golf at Wentworth tomorrow-this interests me more than usual as I’m being picked up by Scat, Sozz and Mac HYPERLINK THEM to go watch it. I won’t have slept at all in about 30 hours, after many months of skimpy sleep. How better to reacclimatise than hitting some sport with my best mates? Shame only two of them are called John.
At Sao, I manage to follow the rugby on my phone for long enough to see that Lewsey has put us 5-0 up. I get the result but none of the tension when first a stewardess gives us a 8-9 update before the pilot kicks in with 14-9 final score.
But I’ve skipped almost to the end, I had a couple of stops before the mad dash of Rio. A wise man once told me that sand is the enemy, so 5 days of not much more than beach action was likely to be quite a battle for me. The bus from Iguassu to Paraty was a tester-we went to Sao overnight, with 2 ‘meal’ stops and one for the police to shake down those who’d bought a lot of stuff in Paraguay. Then another 4 or 5 hours in another bus and we were nearly 24 hours door to door. There wasn’t much to do in Paraty, so after that bus journey a boat to an island made for a restful day after. An hour each way on the boat diluted the amount of time in contact with sand.
Someone should do some research into the relationship between beach idleness tends and the increased desire to go out. I’m not going to write about the last week’s nights out. For those who understand such things, it was essentially an extended Withnail remix. I won’t want to drink for a bit.
After Paraty, we took a bus for an hour and a half before getting on the boat to Ilha Grande
Now I’m not into beaches, but Ilha Grande is stunning. It made a great place for a bit of chilling, chucking a ball about, Laura’s birthday and a boat trip.
It was also a significant stop for Lionel (anyone remember the llama). The plan had been for Laura to celebrate her birthday by setting fire to Lionel on the beach at night. Lor rather fell out of love with Lionel. Ian had asked me to video it. I’d got alcohol and matches. I can confirm that Lionel and his two broken legs didn’t leave Ilha Grande, but he didn’t fry. Christian told us the military police wouldn’t take the same view to llama arson as we would. So Lionel has retired by the sea.
Our boat back to the mainland was early and very small. We had to slow and change direction when any other boat went past so that we wouldn’t get swamped by their bow wave. Even then the water flowed across the deck. We made good time into Rio, but I still had less than 24 hours. So it was mad dash round, night out, get up, go to airport.
It’s a wonder. It’s one of 7. Common opinion seems to be it was lucky. Very lucky, but Christ the Redeemer must be one of the most recognisable symbols of any city anywhere. Oddly it’s best when you’re not up by it
The best views are from other points in the city and looking at the postcards probably from a helicopter. Actually at the statue itself, the views over the city are the winner (once you get a clear shot with the public holiday crowds out the way)
It’s all seater now, but the Maracana holds the record for the largest attendance at a soccer match (200,000 for the Brazil Uruguay World Cup final). We stopped off, looked at the feet hall of fame (bizarrely including Franz Beckenbauer) and went through the dressing rooms and tunnel to the edge of the pitch where a massive Brazilian was doing tricks.
The cathedral is one of the more surprising things I’ve seen. From the outside, it is a striking building, but the exterior looks like offices or apartments as it gives the impression on being over multiple stories.
In turn this made me think that it couldn’t work so well as a cathedral (a single space) on the inside. I was most wrong
The last big stop was sugar loaf, which takes 2 cable cars to reach. It would have been nice to have caught sunset, but the night views were marvellous.
I had a night out at the Lapa. I’ve said my goodbyes. The taxi's coming at 10.30. My trip is all but over. I may not be on a beach, or by the sea again for a while. So I'll wrap up with a trip to the Copacabana. Where I shan't sing.
Right now I'm too tired for reflection, insight or even statistics. WAP tells me I'll be watching Cabrera take on Els at Wentworth tomorrow. Seems appropriate to have 2 Southern hemisphere boys-one from the country I started, the other from where I was just 10 days ago.
When my brain is back, I'll do a last post on the past year. There'll be stats.......
(I land at Heathrow. It takes 40 mins to get on the stand, 40 more to get my bags. I get a lot of texts. One of them tells me that I have flights booked to Paris on Thursday to try and find tickets for the RWC final. Peut etre un petit blog de Paris la semaine prochaine.)
Well, almost. I’m in the departure lounge in Rio airport, about to board my final flight. Well final two flights as for some reason BA fly south to Sao Paolo (where a plane recently skidded off the runway) before heading to London, dizzy London. I’m wapping away to see who’ll be in the final of the world matchplay golf at Wentworth tomorrow-this interests me more than usual as I’m being picked up by Scat, Sozz and Mac HYPERLINK THEM to go watch it. I won’t have slept at all in about 30 hours, after many months of skimpy sleep. How better to reacclimatise than hitting some sport with my best mates? Shame only two of them are called John.
At Sao, I manage to follow the rugby on my phone for long enough to see that Lewsey has put us 5-0 up. I get the result but none of the tension when first a stewardess gives us a 8-9 update before the pilot kicks in with 14-9 final score.
But I’ve skipped almost to the end, I had a couple of stops before the mad dash of Rio. A wise man once told me that sand is the enemy, so 5 days of not much more than beach action was likely to be quite a battle for me. The bus from Iguassu to Paraty was a tester-we went to Sao overnight, with 2 ‘meal’ stops and one for the police to shake down those who’d bought a lot of stuff in Paraguay. Then another 4 or 5 hours in another bus and we were nearly 24 hours door to door. There wasn’t much to do in Paraty, so after that bus journey a boat to an island made for a restful day after. An hour each way on the boat diluted the amount of time in contact with sand.
Someone should do some research into the relationship between beach idleness tends and the increased desire to go out. I’m not going to write about the last week’s nights out. For those who understand such things, it was essentially an extended Withnail remix. I won’t want to drink for a bit.
After Paraty, we took a bus for an hour and a half before getting on the boat to Ilha Grande
Now I’m not into beaches, but Ilha Grande is stunning. It made a great place for a bit of chilling, chucking a ball about, Laura’s birthday and a boat trip.
It was also a significant stop for Lionel (anyone remember the llama). The plan had been for Laura to celebrate her birthday by setting fire to Lionel on the beach at night. Lor rather fell out of love with Lionel. Ian had asked me to video it. I’d got alcohol and matches. I can confirm that Lionel and his two broken legs didn’t leave Ilha Grande, but he didn’t fry. Christian told us the military police wouldn’t take the same view to llama arson as we would. So Lionel has retired by the sea.
Our boat back to the mainland was early and very small. We had to slow and change direction when any other boat went past so that we wouldn’t get swamped by their bow wave. Even then the water flowed across the deck. We made good time into Rio, but I still had less than 24 hours. So it was mad dash round, night out, get up, go to airport.
It’s a wonder. It’s one of 7. Common opinion seems to be it was lucky. Very lucky, but Christ the Redeemer must be one of the most recognisable symbols of any city anywhere. Oddly it’s best when you’re not up by it
The best views are from other points in the city and looking at the postcards probably from a helicopter. Actually at the statue itself, the views over the city are the winner (once you get a clear shot with the public holiday crowds out the way)
It’s all seater now, but the Maracana holds the record for the largest attendance at a soccer match (200,000 for the Brazil Uruguay World Cup final). We stopped off, looked at the feet hall of fame (bizarrely including Franz Beckenbauer) and went through the dressing rooms and tunnel to the edge of the pitch where a massive Brazilian was doing tricks.
The cathedral is one of the more surprising things I’ve seen. From the outside, it is a striking building, but the exterior looks like offices or apartments as it gives the impression on being over multiple stories.
In turn this made me think that it couldn’t work so well as a cathedral (a single space) on the inside. I was most wrong
The last big stop was sugar loaf, which takes 2 cable cars to reach. It would have been nice to have caught sunset, but the night views were marvellous.
I had a night out at the Lapa. I’ve said my goodbyes. The taxi's coming at 10.30. My trip is all but over. I may not be on a beach, or by the sea again for a while. So I'll wrap up with a trip to the Copacabana. Where I shan't sing.
Right now I'm too tired for reflection, insight or even statistics. WAP tells me I'll be watching Cabrera take on Els at Wentworth tomorrow. Seems appropriate to have 2 Southern hemisphere boys-one from the country I started, the other from where I was just 10 days ago.
When my brain is back, I'll do a last post on the past year. There'll be stats.......
(I land at Heathrow. It takes 40 mins to get on the stand, 40 more to get my bags. I get a lot of texts. One of them tells me that I have flights booked to Paris on Thursday to try and find tickets for the RWC final. Peut etre un petit blog de Paris la semaine prochaine.)
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8:48 PM
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