Rio, Brasilia, and on

With pleasing symmetry I am again in a very happy place writing this, due to lovely experiences, high anticipation of what is to come and another wrigley-family notice- congratulations to mela for somehow persuading the lovely Helen to marry him. Congrats to both. Am intrigued to see what etty can come up with before my next post.

Rio is my new favourite place. I don't know how my expectations weren't higher but how lovely to have them utterly exceeded? The zona sul and centre, anyway, is probably the richest urban environment I have ever come across. Everywhere has either mountain, lagoon or sea, or a combination. Christo Redentor is an incredibly serene and beautiful presence throughout the city. Ipanema and Copacabana beaches have their own distinctive paving patterns which cariocas use as signifiers of local pride. It is all green and bright and it has great food and caipirinhas.

Inevitably this all leads to regret- at not staying longer, not seeing a favela, not getting to a football match. But we did so much: seeing the streets turn green and violet when fiuminense won the league; eating feijoada and kind-of-sambaing in a Sunday night club; enjoying views and beers in Santa Theresa. I hope I'll go back one day. I left my beard there so I have to.

Brasilia was a bit different. Since the government closed down all cheap accommodation it was only ever going to be a flying visit, in on a night bus and back out the same evening, having ticked as many Niemeyer boxes as I could. It  was pretty much exactly as expected and conformed to my opinions on 60s modernism. Crisp, white buildings don't stay crisp and white for long and show up wear and tear very clearly. I don't like shapey architecture anyway. It is boring. And if it is going to be a 'pure form' it had better be perfect or it will look rubbish (I find it normally isn't, and does). There is no acknowledgement of the very unpure vagaries of the construction process, and an almost sinister denial of the effect of contact with those who use it. The same can be said of a city plan of dictatorial symmetry and unconnected walkways. Even the central grand promenade ends abruptly at a 4 lane highway- it is after all a city shaped like a plane and designed for cars, designed for the ages but so soon an architectural relic.

The best buildings were two rectangular ministries (justice and foreign affairs if you want to ggogle them) where the accommodation was within pretty ordinary curtain walling set behind raw, unpainted, sculptural concrete arcades. Telling, also, that it is really the landscape design around them by Burle Marx (see Hester's last post) which 'lifts' them.

Urgh. Ok enough architect pseuding. Soz.

We went from there to the Pantanal, and as it is her New Favourite Place in the World, I'll let Hes blog about that one, but would like to say just this first:

It could be argued that the Pantanal is the most uncomfortably humid, insect ridden hell hole on God's earth. This thought rang true on many occasions, when I almost hoped one of the larger creatures would bite me to offer relief from the smaller ones.

But with that off my chest, it is also utterly incredible. The density, variety and colour of wildlife is awesome. It just doesn't stop, wherever you look. And Hes will detail one heart-stopping event which will stay with me for the rest of my life. It felt like the climax of a David Attenborough documentary and (choosing words carefully to try to avoid hyperbole) I felt privileged to witness it.

Over to Hes...