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December 17th, 2009 – At Sea, 23º 06′S, 043º 53′W
by Herb McCormick
Like 299,998 other tourists who visit Rio de Janeiro each year, Dave Logan and I boarded a tram yesterday to have an up-close look at Christo Redentor - Christ the Redeemer – the towering statue of Jesus Christ that’s perhaps better known for the 2,300-foot peak it sits atop called Corcovodo. We’d seen Corcovodo from the decks of Ocean Watch the day before on our approach to Rio; it’s unquestionably the city’s most famous landmark, one that can be seen not only from well at sea, but also from countless vantage points around the sprawling, linear city. Our time in Rio was limited, but Logan and I reckoned if we were going to see anything of note, it might as well be Corcovodo.
Near the summit, we debarked with our fellow pilgrims and climbed several sets of staircases until we stood directly before the 125-foot tower. Designed by French sculptor Paul Landkowski, the towering edifice, unveiled in 1931, took nine years to build and is considered the largest art deco statue in the world. Posed like a cross, with open arms spread wide to the heavens (many in the crowd mimicked the gesture for photos, just like at the Statue of Liberty), Landkowski’s vision of Jesus didn’t do much for Logan, who took it in with a decided shrug. But I found him striking indeed: Firm of chin, soulful of eye, high of cheekbone, he seemed much more than just a powerful and worshipped symbol of Brazilian Catholicism. In fact, he could’ve come from Hollywood. He looked the Brad Pitt, or perhaps the Christian Bale, of saviors and redeemers.
Today, the hallowed voyage of Ocean Watch continuith, with a short 70-mile jump from Rio to a place called Angra dos Reis, on the mainland across from the popular island of Ilha Grande, where we’ll make a quick pit stop for groceries and fuel, the latter of which proved to be problematic for small boats in Rio’s expansive but shallow harbor.
Coming into Rio, we were fearful that we’d encounter other problems, ones not so easily and simply addressed. We’d all passed around a recent copy of The New Yorker magazine with a feature story about Rio that described a dangerous, crime-ridden place with an astronomical murder rate governed in equal measure by corrupt cops and rampant gangs. We don’t like to consider ourselves squeamish or alarmist, but there’s no question that we sailed into the place with far more apprehension than we’re used to or comfortable with.
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| Ocean Watch, berthed at the Marine da Gloria. |
In any event, our fears and worries proved misguided and unfounded. Maybe it was because we mostly frequented the safe and secure facilities of our berth at the Marine da Gloria, as well as the busy tourist spots like the strip along Copacabana Beach, or maybe the reason is that Brazil is already in the stages of getting its act together now that it’s been awarded the 2016 Summer Olympics. Whatever the cause, the Rio we visited was orderly, beautiful, inviting and sensual, all the qualities on which its reputation was originally built. Granted, our visit was brief and the place has enormous challenges ahead of it with its bursting population, but for us, Rio de Janeiro was yet another pleasant surprise.
The citizens, in vast numbers, are attractive, outgoing, friendly and athletic. Man, are they athletic. Sipping a drink
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| The citizens, in vast numbers are attractive, outgoing, friendly and athlectic. |
the other night on the tile boardwalk along Copacabana, a bunch of break-dancing wild men came along to entertain the crowd, and one of them – for cash, of course – actually did a flying somersault over our own David Thoreson’s fully raised arms, a leap of seven-feet or more. And no, that’s not an exaggeration. And the morning scene on Flamenco Beach, near our slip, was like a scene from Muscle Beach, with scores of folks lifting, running, walking, stretching and playing hoops and soccer. It made us rather weary just watching it all.
Of course, you don’t have to go far to see people, of all ages and sexes, playing soccer. In one form or another, in stadiums; on the beach; down sidewalks; on dusty fields; in short, everywhere, there’s someone playing soccer. At any given time, in the city of Rio de Janeiro, there must be five thousand games underway in one form or another. And the level of play, honestly, is astonishing. Brazilians are so good and skillful that we even came across a two-on-two beach volleyball tournament, played exactly like soccer. Nope, no hands allowed. The server mounts the ball on a little kicking tee fashioned from a mound of sand and that’s how play begins. The volleys are long and contested, and the points are not easily earned. After watching this for a few minutes, I came to the conclusion it was the hardest, most difficult game ever invented.
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| In one form or another, in stadiums; on the beach; down sidewalks; on dusty fields; in short, everywhere, there’s someone playing soccer. |
Some twenty years ago, I visited Copacabana at night, and was warned by many not to even think about strolling down the beach after dark. Those days are also over. The beach is now completely lit, from plaza to the sea, with a long string of light poles that cast a glow over the proceedings. Those tiled streets nearby, and throughout the city, are mostly clean and neat. We strolled along them at all hours, very happy to be there.
So our visit to the River of January, thankfully and surprisingly, ended up being a most positive experience, and we’ll have much to remember on top of that visage of such a handsome Jesus. Still, we sailors are a superstitious lot, and our side trip to Corcovado, in retrospect, seemed like a fine portent. If not exactly a blessing, it certainly wasn’t a curse, either. Like our entire visit to Rio, it was simple, pure and cheerful, and we sailed out of town this morning on what felt like a rising tide of good omen.
- Herb McCormick with photographs by David Thoreson with the exception of the main photo which was taken by Herb McCormick
This crew log submitted by Iridium OpenPort and Stratos
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