Paraty After Dark

Looking out into the ocean-containing darkness from Ponte do Pontal

The shuttle ride from Rio de Janeiro to Paraty took far longer than it should have, which meant I arrived in Paraty well after dark, when almost everything was closed. More importantly, everything serving food was closed.

I am staying for the next four nights here at the Pousada Porto Imperial in the heart of the old city of Paraty. Paraty is a beach town. Yes, I know. I am not a fan of beach vacations and I booked four nights of lodging in a beach town. Hobgoblins on the mind and all that. Actually, Paraty is an historic, colonial era port that happens to have nice beaches. It's not a "beach town"; it's a town with a beach.

By the time I rolled in, unpacked, did some emergency work, and found out that the room was broken and needed replaced, it was too late. It was just about too late to stroll as the streets were empty. A few bars were open, but nothing serving food.

This, possibly, could be the Perequê-açu River, which forms the northern border of the colonial heart of Paraty.

I will explore the city in the daylight tomorrow.

The Seven-Hour Tour of Rio Ends Across the Bay in Niterói

Is this a perfect example of "retrofuturistic"? Yes. Yes, it is.

There is one reason to visit Niterói. Well, two, actually. The second is the spectacular view of Rio de Janeiro from across the Guanabara Bay. But the first is the one Oscar Niemeyer masterpiece located in the Rio de Janeiro metropolitan area: Museu de Arte Contemporânea de Niterói, or the Niterói Museum of Contemporary Art.

The collection inside the museum is laughably awful, even by the ultra-low standards (if indeed there are standards) of a "modern art" museum. The reason to go is the building itself, which is an artistic masterpiece of its era, even if it was built after its era passed.

The museum will built on a small bluff that provides a nice view of Guanabara Bay (but not as nice as the views we will see later).

On the roof are frigatebirds, which, I believe, generally stick to the lands between the Tropics of Cancer and Capricorn.

 

And here I am, soaking in a perfect example of retrofuturistic architecture.

The general opinion is the building looks like a UFO.

Which is bizarre, since the building is obviously tethered to the land, albeit by a thin stem at the base. It's not "flying."

The building was opened in 1996, which is well after the end of the Space Age and the end of futuristic design. This is why we call this look "retrofuturistic," because it was what people used to think the future would look like. But doesn't. We don't have jetpacks or flying cars. We don't get our meals in pills. And our buildings do not look like tethered UFO's. Thus, this is a perfect example of "retrofuturistic" because it never passed through a phase of being merely "futuristic." The era of futuristic architecture had passed by the time it was built in 1996. The Space Age was over.

Let's have a look-see, shall we?

Walking down the corridors, searching for the art to be found within:

Does the building give off a very '60's vibe? It does.

That's because Niemeyer designed the building at the height of the Space Age in the 1960s, fresh off his masterwork designing the City of Brasilia. And although it was designed in the Golden Age of the Futuristic, it was not built until the 1990s, after the futuristic morphed into the retrofuturistic.

The building is the work of art. And the mnost beautiful sights are the views of Guanabara Bay seen either outside or inside the Niemeyer building.

Again, the building is the work of art here. Not the "art":

That is a giant four foot by four foot ashtray and a giant cigarette.

And it's not even a particularly well done giant ashtray and cigarette. Both look someone amateurish. The cigarette doesn't look like an actual cigarette. And the ashtray looks like it is covered in cheap off-brand aluminum foil. Not the good stuff. Not Reynolds Wrap. The cheap supermarket label stuff that rips before you are done unscrolling it.

Here's another view to give you some perspective on the size of the ashtray and cigarette.

I really feel sorry for the artist who did this work:

Shoes. You work hard (more or less) to create your "art" and they place in a world-famous Oscar Niemeyer-designed retrofuturistic modern art museum ... right next to the damn four-foot-by-four-foot giant ashtray and cigarette ... and suddenly you realize your own inadequacy. How can your work of shoes ever possibly compare to the transcendence of the giant four-foot-by-four-foot ashtray and cigarette? Why it would be enough for to force you to forsake your art career and get a job in an office.

What about this? Is this art?

It would make a cool chandelier. But I've seen many cool chandeliers in my day and I can't think of one that should be hanging in a museum rather than, say, over a dining table.

Maybe looking down on this work from the floor above will improve its artsiness:

Not quite, I fear.

As anyone who has ever taken a middle-school art class knows, collages make for art masterpieces:

Especially if you were to include broken used eyeglasses. I know Leonardo da Vinci is, somewhere, kicking himself for not including a real pair of broken used eyeglasses in his Mona Lisa. Michelangelo knows his Pieta is lessened by his failure to include a real pair of broken used eyeglasses.

Let's return to the motif of ashtrays and cigarettes. What would happen if you would shrink the size of the ashtray and cigarette down to, say, life size, and add some Michael Jackson?

In all honesty, I don't "get" the Michael Jackson/cigarette-and-ashtray combo plate. But, then again, I'm an uncultured philistine. Even worse, I was on Team Prince during the Prince vs. Michael Jackson wars in the 1980s. Keep on with the force don't stop.

This one giant canvas is not awful.

I know. "Not awful" is the highest praise I'm doling out here. It's derivative. It has an Henri Rousseau vibe to it. But derivative Henri Rousseau is superior to ashtrays, cigarettes, and MJ, is it not?

This one is a little to macabre for my taste, but it looked like some actual art-skill was involved.

Making fun of ultra-modern art is the easiest thing in the world. It takes as much talent as does creating the modern of which one is making the fun. Still, this photo is artsier than anything we'll see in the museum:

Off to the Niterói City Park hoping the rains keep holding off.

And here we meet Sri Chimroy.

Sri Chimroy was a big proponent of world peace. And that's a good thing. Worth a statue, if you ask me.

At this point in the city park you can stand on the paragliding launch pad and soak in the views of the Guanabara Bay.

Or look down on the City of Niterói.

I don't mean "look down" in the condescending way. Sorry. Although Rio de Janeiro is accused of "looking down" on Niterói in that very way. I meant "look down" as in I'm high above the city and the city is below. 

 

The bay too, I will not condescend to Guanabara Bay. Fun story as told to me by my guide. The original sailors who found Rio de Janeiro, upon sailing into the narrow entrance into the harbor from the Atlantic, thought the Guanabara Bay was a river. It was January. Hence the name: Rio de Janeiro. Rive of January.

Here I am standing on the paragliding launching pad.

Obviously I am not about to go paragliding. This seven-hour tour concludes because the clock has expired. Not because I have expired in a grotesque paragliding accident. Which would be the only possible outcome if I were to go paragliding.

The Seven-Hour Tour of Rio Continues: Lapa

Inside the Metropolitan Cathedral: Spectacular interior, controversial exterior.

The grand tour of Rio de Janeiro continued on to Lapa. 

We didn't not take the tram. The tram still runs through this residential neighborhood, Santa Teresa, at the base of Corcovado and Cristo Redentor. This used to be the upscale part of Rio a century ago until the wealthy people of Rio woke up one day and, all the sudden, realized, "Hey. Some of the most beautiful beaches on the whole planet are just down the hill. Why don't we move down there and live in expensive ocean front property?" And so they did. And so this neighborhood went into a long decline and slow decay.

And like the Rio super-rich a century ago, we are working our way to sea level. And speaking of working one's way down to sea level:

This is the old city aqueduct. It brought fresh water from the peaks of Tijuca and the surrounding hills, down to the City of Rio de Janeiro. It's no longer a functioning aqueduct. But it's repurposed. It functions as elevated tram tracks.

This is the exterior of Catedral Metropolitana de São Sebastião do Rio de Janeiro. Remind you of anything?

Think. To a past vacation.

Mayan pyramids! It looks like a Mayan pyramid. Perhaps Tikal, such as pictured above. Perhaps Chichen Itza. But it doesn't look like a Catholic Church. And it is not Brazilian in style.

Another view of the cathedral-pyramid, rising from behind the former-but-not-repurposed aqueduct:

Outside the cathedral is Mother Teresa:

While Catholic Me may not be a fan of the pagan-style exterior, the interior is awesome. Here, with the lights at the top of the pyramid, the long, climbing, "stained glass" lights form a cross. 

This is the alter:

I guess all the alters in the major cathedrals of South American cities cannot be adorned with an excess of gold leaf. At least the crucifixion scene hanging over the alter did not go to complete modern excess and have the crucifixion depicted in such a stylized manner that all connection to the actual crucifixion is lost.

And here is the honoree of this cathedral: São Sebastião, St. Sebastian:

He is the patron saint of Rio de Janeiro (because the city was founded on his feast day) (he never visited here) (he died around A.D. 288 in the Diocletian persecution of the Christians). I am not sure why he is a carriage, especially such a lavish-looking one. I guess it's to parade him around in style on his feast day, January 20.

The Mother Teresa statue is a main Kodak Photo Spot at the cathedral.

Less so Saint John Paul II.

He's out in the front, up on a pedestal, away from the foot traffic. 

Next stop: Niteroi.

The Seven-Hour Tour of Rio: Corcovado Oh How Lovely

Cristo Redentor, a.k.a., Christ The Redeemer, in the clouds above Rio de Janeiro

I had a busy day in Rio de Janeiro being a busy Rio de Janeiro tourist. It was so busy that I'm going to break up the guided touring of the day into three posts. This is part one.

But not only was this a busy day, it was a fun day. It was a fun day because the day started with a ride in the FUNicular up to the summit of Corcovado to see the famous Cristo Redentor, Christ the Redeemer. I hire a guide to show me all the sights a tourist in Rio de Janeiro can see in seven hours, which if you're moving at a relaxed vacation pace, is not an enormous number of sights. But it was a lot.

And one limiting factor was my insistence of taking the funicular up to the summit. Why walk? Why drive in a car? Why choose any other way to ascend the summit 2000-plus feet above Rio de Janeiro when a funicular is available.

We got an early start to get to the funicular before it got too crowded. Total cost was 93 reaies, which is about $19 U.S. That works out to about 50 cents a minute, as the ascent and descent are about 20 minutes each.

This is the place where the funicular tracks split, right near the former of the Brazilian royal family. Yes. Brazil once had a king. Dom Pedro II was the last, being deposed in a military coup in November 1889, about a year after Brazil abolished slavery. Was there a connection? I shrug to say "we'll never know." I can say that his house there looked modest. (Rio was the capital of Brazil back then.)

And here we are at the summit.

There is a big crowd at the summit, packed into a small space. This is no quiet night of quiet stars up here. For one thing, it's morning. For another, we're not looking out a window on Corcovado (oh how lovely), we're on top of it.

Let's look at the hands of the statue. 

Two interesting things. You can see indentations in the middle of the palm, signifying the nail holes. You also might be able to see metal rods sticking up. I thought it was to keep birds from roosting on the hands and defecating on the Christ. No. (One very positive thing about Rio de Janeiro is that there are no pigeons. They're the worst at perching and defecating.) They're lightning rods. The statue was hit by lightning about 10 years ago damaging a finger. The lightning rods are to avoid repetition of that sort of incident. I think. I think that's the story my guide told me. If not, well, come to Rio and hire your own guide. I'm sticking with my story.

And speaking of me, here's me.

Doing the obligatory arms-outstretched pose required of all tourists who ascend to the summit of Corcovado. It's the law. I believe. Or I could have just made that up. Unlike the prior story about the lightning rods, which I tried to faithfully repeat. Again: You travel here. You hired your own guide. You come up with a better story. Still, as you can see, I'm not the only one up here doing the obligatory arms-outstretched pose. So if it's not the law, it should be.

And the views from up here are impressive. Oh how lovely. I think this is looking out toward tall and tan and young and lovely Ipanema. But with clouds, I can't tell.

Speaking of clouds, after several minutes of photo taking, the clouds started rolling in,

Clouds are very common here. Cristo Redentor can disappear into clouds for hours, even a whole day, at a time. This is something they do not explain to you in the tour books or the Rio tour videos on the youtubes. But it's OK. I got some uncloudy pictures.

You get your pictures. You snap your selfies. Then it is time to move on. To Mirante Dona Martin,

"Mirante" means viewpoint. This is a high point not far from Corcovado where you've got great views of the tourist Rio de Janeiro.

Sugarloaf! Which you know by its Portuguese name: Pão de Açucar! 

Cristo Redentor! 

Lagoa!

Lagoa is an upscale neighborhood in Rio de Janeiro that has a lake. Lagoa = lake. Hence: Lagoa.

This would have been a great picture of Lagoa, but some fat American tourist walked into the picture.

Not only can you see the lake, Lagoa, but behind the lake is Ipanema (on the left) and Leblon (on the right). Leblon is an even more upscale beach than Ipanema. And Ipanema is more upscale than Copacabana. 

Here's another view of Sugarloaf.

Here's Sugarloaf with a couple posing at the viewpoint. This is a common viewpoint for taking pictures of the whole of the tourist city.

And more photos of love.

This couple has Christ looking over their shoulders. A metaphor? You decide.

Next stop: we return to sea level and we "see" Lapa.