When the weather cleared a bit, we parked by Arpoador, the small beach between Copacabana and Ipanema, and I took some pics that would have been extraordinary if the weather hadn't been so dismal.
But we still had fun, and Mosquito bought me yet another coconut water, which, if I haven't explained it previously, is drunk straight from the coconut which has simply had it's top hacked off.
Afterward, we returned the coconut to the stand, where the server hacked it into pieces, making a spoon out of one shaving, so that I could eat the coconut meat. Delicious and surprisingly filling.
That night, I went out for a bit with my new roommate Tim to the hopping bar Emporio. There I met a pair of Brazilian girls who amusingly described to me the difference between Brazilian men and gringo men. In jilted English that only improved the telling, one of them said, "With Brazilian men, you know right away that they like you. They kiss you very soon. With gringo men is different. (She tapped her watch at this point.) Much time goes by, much taaaaalking and waaaaaiting. And even when they kiss you, you don't know if they like you." I found this hugely amusing, hearing it from their perspective. What to me was abrasive behavior on the part of the men in their country, to them was simply clarity of purpose.
The next day, the weather worsened even further. The rain came down solidly all morning with no sign of stopping, so Tim and I resolved to run some errands and see a movie. To give some perspective, the highlights of my day were Tim's conversation, this dolce de leche napoleon...
...and this crappy view of the city, with Cristo Redentor looming above on the left, from the mall cinema window.
That evening, Tim headed out to Emporio again, and I accepted an invitation from Mosquito for dinner. He took me to what at first glance looked to be a bottom-rung mall sushi joint, but there I had my favorite meal in Brazil. Brazil is home to the largest group of Japanese outside of Japan, and they know their sushi. I had a magnificent ahi tuna steak over baby asparag, and Mosquito ordered a huge sampler plate that tickled my palate in a way sushi never had before. The choicest morsel of all was a uniquely Brazilian twist on a salmon roll with cream cheese, bits of apple, and a powerful spice I don't know the name of. I stuffed myself silly, and still mourned over the pieces that I couldn't finish. Mosquito was a delightful dinner companion, entertaining me with more stories and introducing me to each of the dozen or so people who stopped to say hello during our meal. Seriously, the guy knows everyone in Rio!
I had planned to leave Rio for the seaside town of Buzios the following morning, but upon drawing back the curtain, I glimpsed the first bit of truly blue sky I had seen since I arrived. I literally leaped out of bed, packed my things, checked out, stored my bags, and hopped a bus to Sugarloaf mountain, determined to see a decent view before leaving.
When I arrived at the base of the mountain, I joined the line at the entrance only to find out about yet another bizarre, second line just for buying the tickets. But thanks to a precocious 9 year-old girl from Curitiba who spoke perfect English, her mother and I conspired to each stand in a different line, in order to cut down the wait time. The mother took my money for the entrance fee and left me in line with her child, Brenda, whose personality reminded me of a far-less-annoying version of my own at that age. I genuinely enjoyed talking with her and hearing about her international school, her ship's captain father, her dentist mother, and their recent trip to Disneyworld. At one point I told her how smart she was, and she replied, "Thank you. I know." The kid kept me laughing for the entire wait. I only wish I could recall more of her bon mots as we waited, watching the cable cars make the trip to Sugarloaf above us.
Her mother, Wanuska, returned with the tickets just in time for us to board the cable car, and together we made the first of the two ascents. From the lower mountain, the views were so lovely, I eagerly awaited the second.
The sky was cerulean and the sun out in full force, making for perfect photos but punishing heat, from which Brenda and I hid under umbrellas standing in for parasols. I had bought mine only moments before from a vendor on the street and was glad to have done so.
When we'd taken a turn around the first mountain, we got in line for the second cable car to Sugarloaf...
...and were treated to a visit by some adorable marmosets. (I'm 90% sure that's what they were, but if anyone knows better, please let me know.)
From the top, the view of the city was jaw-dropping, with Copacabana cutting a dramatic figure below.
The view of Cristo Redentor was almost better than it had been on Corcovado itself, for all the clouds I had seen that day.
Besides which, I had gotten to spend the day in the company of a lovely Brazilian family who bought me lunch atop the mountain before I'd had a chance to argue and who insisted that I stay with them if I was ever in Curitiba.
When we came down the mountain, Brenda's umbrella broke, and I gave her mine, decorated with pictures of Rio, as a present. We took the bus back together, and when they disembarked, I kissed them both goodbye gratefully. I then proceeded to my hostel, grabbed my things, and hopped a cab to the bus station, from which I headed onto Buzios.
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