Week 60: TDY to Rio: Along Copacobana Beach

After work the second day, I decided to walk back to my hotel on Copacobana Beach from the Consulate. The cab took about ten minutes, and I noticed a very nice walking and biking trail, so I figured I could probably make it in about an hour on foot.

Just up the road from the Consulate, I saw a group of demonstrators outside of a bank. The public bank employees had started a national strike and were protesting outside of a private bank office. All the banks closed for about four weeks due to the strike.



After observing the demonstration for a few minutes, I continued on my walk, crossing over bridge over the highway. The Museum of Modern Art was just on the other side and a giant spider sculpture.

My walk also took me past the WWII Memorial and several very cool trees and plants.

I was very impressed by the beauty and cleanliness of the beaches I walked past. Along the way I noticed these large lids covering very large garbage cans, so I stopped and took some photos.

After I took a couple of photos of these large garbage containers embedded in the beach, one of the garbage collectors stopped to ask me why I was taking pictures of the cans. He thought maybe I had seen something wrong, or was doing report of some sort. I assured him that I found the cans interesting since I had never seen that kind of disposal unit before. He told me that his boss had seen them in France and brought them here. He also showed me how they work. Very big and deep cans. Truck removes the liner.

I saw several groups of children playing soccer, groups of men playing volleyball, and even some foot volley. That is amazing. There was even a large crew shooting a scene for a film or television show.



I did manage to walk back to hotel this afternoon at least partway. I followed the trail through the park and got to the Porcão churrascaria at the end of the park. I had brought my camera to take pictures. Unfortunately, the sky was overcast so the light wasn't as good as yesterday evening.

After about an hour of walking, it got dark and the trail ended, so I got a cab to bring me to the Copacobana each. Even after my walk, the cab ride still cost me R$20.

Tonight I got several photos of some of things I thought were interesting, like garbage cans and restrooms.



I had two more interesting conversations with street vendors later. I was looking for souvenirs to bring home. I bought batik shawls for the girls (made in Indonesia with Brazilian designs). I purchased those from two different vendors. The second guy had a shawl of the same pattern but better quality of s shawl I had purchased earlier. He did a straight trade with me for the better one.

I tried to find a T-shirt for Sam, but there was nothing his size. I stopped and talked to one T-shirt vendor and explained how the shirts they offered were mostly for woman because that is what sells. He then explained the sizing codes. Tank tops are one size because they stretch. Young girls wear them loose while their moms wear them skin tight.

As his grandkids packed up their wares, he got off on a tangent and explained to me why Muslims were ruining the world, Arab countries should be realigned, and oil reserves should be put in the control of Western nations. He only agreed with President Obama on th issue of not forming a separate Palestinian state. He repeated everything several times to make sur I understood his argument, and I think I got most of it. I even learned some swear words from him.

My last stop was with an artisan named Paulo from Pernambuco and his friend Tati from Rio. They both live on the street. He makes hats and bowls out of palm fronds. She paints idyllic scenes on white ceramic tiles while you watch. I just wanted one of his birds, and Paulo insisted that I watch Tati paint a tile. She was good, but I didn't want a tile. During this time we talked about music, culture and religion, and Tati and I helped Paulo learn a couple of English words for selling his goods. It was a fun evening. I net some nice folks.

The corn on the cob was tough and dry. Old corn. Feed corn. yuck.

Seeing them at the breakfat buffet reminded me of what the T-shirt had told me last night about American arrogance. He said Americans strut up to vendors and ask in English " How much is it" and he says "Quanto custo?" I think he was pleased or impressed to hear me speaking Portuguese.