Pains, gains and bloody ordeals: Rio and Salvador

To follow on from my previous post, some may have thought I got a little over excited about meeting Andy Townsend but I think this boy's reaction to meeting the former Ireland midfield personifies over-reaction: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s6nqZM5vhus

Anyway, I don't want to get bogged down in a Townsend wonderland so I'd better move on.

Move on indeed I did, to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil's former capital and number one tourist destination. Upon arriving I decided to take this shot which coincided with a significant tremor, either that or I decided to shake my head as much as I could whilst taking a selfie, I'll let you decide:

Shakin Stevens

Some may feel this to be a pointless exercise. I do not.

Anyway, when I arrived in Rio the local community were shaking in more ways than one as the Selecao (the Brazilian national team) scraped past Chile on penalties. The Brazilians sure know how to celebrate but if you thought my selfie was a waste of time, then surely setting off fireworks in broad daylight as my next video illustrates beats that for pointlessness: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vO_fV-bS6DQ

I had been in Brazil for ten days and had yet to buy a single souvenir so I thought it was about time I rectified this. I decided to buy something typically Brazilian, something that could only be bought here and would signify something to show the samba style of this great nation: a nude Betty Boop keyring.

Betty Oops

Following the shenanigans in the aftermath of the host nation's thrilling second round victory against Chile, I thought I would try and get a ticket for Colombia - Uruguay in the Maracana. However, as I exited the metro beside the great stadium there was a line of police who were happy to manhandle anyone who didn't have a ticket for the game. As a result, I was manhandled and took my sorry self back to town.

No caption required

On the Sunday I visited the Copacabana fan fest for the first time for the Mexico - Holland game and returned again for Belgium - USA the following day. Both were great experiences and I was really unsure who to support for the latter game. I finally made my mind up as I entered the fanzone to the chants of 'Go USA'. I decided this was a nauseating experience that I didn't wish to repeat as the tournament went on and was pleased as the Belgians emerged 2-1 winners.

Go USA, the FIFA fanfest in Rio

Next stop Salvador, in the north east of Brazil.

On the Wednesday, halfway through my trip, I flew to Salvador and found this amusing sign on the seat in front of me:

A photo

I don't know why it amused me so. Little things amuse little minds I guess. I'm sure you'll figure it out.

I went on a walking tour whilst in Salvador and discovered that investing in property here might not be the best of ideas. The sign that adorned this building roughly translates as 'Danger: risk of collapsing'.

Not funny

Sadly, there is very little funny about this, especially when you discover families are still inhabiting these buildings.

Something else that wasn't funny was the feeling I had on the day of the Holland Costa Rica game that took place in Salvador. En route to the stadium I decided to buy a coconut. However, this coconut, let's say, did not agree with me and meant I had to make an emergency dash to a toilet that could easily be described as Brazil's worst toilet. But needs must. I was desperate.

In this photo I thought I was showing the coconut who's boss, little did I know what was to lie in store just moments later. Look at the faces of the riot police, they thought it was funny. Just look at their faces. Look, I know you will.

The coconut and I in happier times

Moving swiftly on, there is an unfair stereotype about the Brazilians not working hard enough, particularly the man on the street, but as the following photo testifies, nothing could be further than the truth:

Men at work

The mirth and merriment continued as we reached the semi finals and the 7-1 thrashing Germany inflicted upon Brazil. With every goal that went in I laughed. It's not that I dislike the country, its people or even necessarily its football team.

But there was something a little uncomfortable about the way the people of this great nation would frequently point to the five stars on their shirts (signifying their five world cup wins) when it was suggested there were big problems with football in their country when they were relying on Fred and Hulk to win them a World Cup. They got their comeuppance.

At the final whistle I thought it was best to return immediately to my hotel for fear of trouble. This proved to be a wise decision when I discovered the next day that another resident in the hotel had had parts of two of her fingers chopped off just metres from the residence, and this was at the reasonable hour of 20:30. Whether her other five digits were in the air in a celebratory manner at the time is unknown but the people of Salvador didn't need much provocation that night.

7 (seven) - 1: front page news

Following this harrowing defeat it was time to catch my umpteenth flight of the tournament and, like all the rest, it was significantly delayed. Well, no worries as it was the weekend of the final and I was pleased to be heading back to Rio.

On the Friday night I went to a club near the Copacabana which was celebrating what can only be described as a sausage fest, or a dude fest as an acquaintance of mine said. I swear, if there were more than 5 girls in the nightclub that housed around 300, I would be amazed. And no, it wasn't a gay club. At least I don't think it was. This was just the 'World Cup Factor'.

Rio nightclub on the eve of the World Cup final

On the Saturday it was back to the Copacabana and here is a great shot, which I didn't take, of the country's most famous beach:

Not bad

Unfortunately, there are sour sides to this tournament, and not just the dangers of walking home late at night. The extreme poverty whilst just metres away lies western middle class exuberance is best summed up in this photo, which I may or may not have taken myself:

This is not me on a bench

On the day of the final I decided to go back to the Copacabana to watch the game but this time to the side of the fanfest nearer the sea. Too near, in fact. I got my trainers wet (I know, I should've worn flip flops).

In fact, the trainers were a part of the most crucial decision of the day. What to wear. In the end I went for this charming little number:

Trainers? Check. Shorts? Check. Marilyn Monroe T-shirt? Check. Comedy glasses? Check.

The main benefit of going beside the fanfest rather than actually in it was the cost of the alcohol. I took 12 cans of beer and managed to conveniently plonk myself beside a guy selling caipirinhas who nicely put them in his ice box for me, on the proviso that I bought a couple of his cocktails. Done.

Also, despite the sea of Argentinians I managed to get a decent view of the screen. Talking of the Argies, I loved the song they were singing disparagingly to their Brazilian counterparts that went to the tune of Bad Moon Rising by Creedence Clearwater Revival. A little surreal, yes. I never knew Creedence were so big in Latin America. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LtYY5zOg5kI

Sadly for Messi and co this song wasn't enough to push them over the line and they lost in extra time to Germany. Still, I got lucky and managed to sell my two remaining beers to a desperate German for a tidy profit.

At the final whistle, a couple of fights broke out. The first was a mass brawl which I managed to avoid. The second took an interesting twist when a local pulled out a pistol which promptly ended the fighting to calls of 'OK, you win'.

Paper, scissors, pistol

I decided to finish my Rio experience with a trip to Lapa, the notorious area of the city for street parties, to discover the street party of all street parties. People from all four corners of the globe were at hand, including this lovely Peruvian couple who were happy to have this photo with me:

Peruvians? Quick, photo, photo, photo

The delightful thing about this World Cup was this was a tournament for everyone, not just for those nations that had qualified and the Peruvians seemed to be enjoying it as much as anyone else. In fact, you could argue this was a Latin American World Cup in terms of support. More than 100,000 Argentinians were in Rio for the final, camped out, staying in cars, sleeping on the beach, whatever they could. Compare this to less than 1000 that travelled to Japan in 2002 and you catch my drift.

Unfortunately, I cannot end this blog on a positive note or this would not seem like a typical travel blog of mine so I am going to bring your attention to one of the dark arts of Brazil: never have I experienced taxi drivers as bad as in this country. Congratulations Brazil, you have the worst taxi drivers in the world. Sometimes they won't take you as your required destination is not lucrative enough, other times they will take you but will rip you off by charging you an extortionate rate or by taking an elongated route.

However, the worst aspect had to be their lack of local knowledge. More often than not, they were relying on passers by or, worse, me for directions around South America's second largest city. Bastards.

When I finally got back to my hostel I was greeted by this sight and I would like to leave you with that as it was my final memory of the World Cup that was Brazil 2014. The World Cup of all World Cups. A good time was had by all, even if we won't necessarily remember all of it:

Drunk