Ipanema Delights

We spent several sunny afternoons soaking up the atmosphere in Ipanema.  It's unlike any beach I've ever experienced.  Vendors compete to bring you Caipirinhas, chairs and umbrellas.  And they plop you down in the middle of a super sexy crowd.

I got drunk enough to ask the chiseled guy on the left if I could take his portrait after he caught me playing paparazzi.  He graciously declined even after I told him four New Yorkers had voted him hottest man in Ipanema.

Liquid courage also sent me into the surf.  The waves were a lot more powerful than they look.

Check out Thom's head if you don't believe me.

Guess what the Carmen Miranda impersonator was selling?  He wasn't any happier than the other guy about me taking his picture without buying some frozen fruit.  Independent vendors sell everything.  "Agua? marijuana?" asked one.  Another hawked grilled shrimp. And you've already seen the Speedo salesman.

Sonia's hot pink crew appreciated our repeat business and took care of us.  This young woman even shook her head in warning when somebody tried to order a third Caipirinha on our final visit.

As you can see, two did the happy trick!  I can't remember the last time I giggled so hard in a cab.  

Later, after celebrating the end of the trip with a bottle of Veuve Cliquot at the villa, we chowed down at Fogo de Chão, a Brazilian steak house, the kind where they keep bringing you different cuts of meat until you're ready to explode.  

That's not all they brought us.  2/5 of our table doesn't recall the final pour.  It was that kind of night.

Fear not friends:  we can repeat the experience at the chain (!) restaurant's New York City location while reminiscing about our wonderful Rio getaway.

Thanks again, Thom!

Birdmen

Antonio and his son, who I called "Baby Driver," a reference that eluded him, posed with Christine outside the villa.

Antonio had arranged a hang gliding excursion for Thom and me in Sao Conrado where the ocean licks the steep cliffs in Tijuca National Forest.  Look closely at the sky.

What goes up must come down.

A steep, winding road took us up the mountain to the Pedro Bonita ramp, 1700 feet above our landing strip on the beach.  Thom and his instructor surveyed the scene.  Gulp.

My instructor said little but I got the gist:  Run as fast as I could off the ramp unless I wanted to die.

Christine nervously captured the exhilarating take-off.

Go Pro cameras affixed to the side and front recorded the ten-minute flight.

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Video does a better job of capturing the silent wonder of the perspective if you've got the patience.

The front-view video is included in the cost.  This fellow sold us the panorama-view.  

He didn't have to try very hard.   Who could resist imposing your image on this spectacular setting?

Look at Thom.  You'd never know from this glamour pose that he nearly pooped in his pants half an hour earlier.

A parasailor passed as we waited for the video to download to our devices.  

Our instructors, who are limited to four flights a day, gave us the thumbs up.

Unforgettable.

São João Batista Cemetery

I couldn't believe it took Christine and me less than half an hour to walk from the villa to the cemetery we'd seen from the viewing platform at Christo Redentor, barely visible here on top of Corvocado.

Were it not for the mountain tunnel connecting Copacabana to Botafogo, it would have been a steep climb through a favela.

So much peace and beauty awaited us on "the other side."We entered through a rear gate, not far from a flower shop.

Christian imagery dominated, as you would expect in a country that has the world's largest Catholic population.

 

Classical and Art Deco influences shaped several of the most distinctive tombstones.

Some of the deceased, mostly men, celebrated their careers.

Others, themselves.

In death, Carmen Miranda chose piety over camp.

Even angels need to be whitewashed occasionally.

We also took a quick peek a nearby museum, a villa owned by Brazil's most famous composer.  Briefly embraced by Hollywood,  Heitor Villa-Lobos seasoned his mostly classical compositions with a dash of samba and put South American music on the world map.

Villa-Lobos introduced us to the interesting work of Dimitri Ismailovitch, a Brazilian painter born in Russia.  Relatively unknown, he captured the glorious ethnic, if mostly male, diversity of his adopted country in these 20th century paintings.

Street art in Botafogo is just as colorful.

Our walk back to Copacabana took us past two very different shops.

We got thumbs up signs at both, even though we bought souvenirs only at this one.