Rio might look like a paradise from atop a mountain but on the streets, even in the fanciest neighborhoods, it is impossible to escape the fact that most of its residents are exceedingly poor.

Just about every apartment building in Ipanema is surrounded by tall, thick metal gates with a guard stationed outside. Elderly men and small boys sit forlornly on the sidewalk in front of shops that would not look out of place on Fifth Avenue. Young mothers holding babies beg on the street.

I don’t feel safe here. I always take care to carry only a small amount of cash. And even on the main shopping streets I am retiscent to take out my camera. Yesterday I withdrew a large amount of money for the remainder of our stay and headed straight back to the hotel without stopping.

It’s hard to tell whether the horror stories and continuous warnings in guide books are poisoning my view or whether I just don’t want to be a stupid tourist. As Ermiyas mentioned in the comments section of a previous post, tourists are often an easy source of cash. Our friend Octavio, at Carioca Da Gema, said there are 500 murders in Rio each month.

The other day, as I wandered towards the bank a couple of small boys, dressed in rags, came tearing down the street in the opposite direction, laughing and looking over their shoulders. About 100ft up the road a group of about a half dozen armed policeman, carrying very long truncheons, seemed to be having an equally good laugh. I imagined a neverending light-hearted game of cat and mouse between the children of the favelas and the police. But looking at the melancholy faces of the older men and women sitting on the street it was obvious their future would be a lot bleaker.

While I was at the top of Sugar Loaf mountain, I saw a group of children peering into a tree. When I reached them I saw a troop of monkeys that I think were marmosets.

The kids were trying to feed crackers and potato chips to the monkeys while holding their cameras inches from the monkeys’ faces. Meanwhile, the monkeys were trying to grab the crackers and the kids’ cameras.

Then this girl turned up with a bag of bananas, which the monkeys much preferred to the crunchy dinner the kids were offering.

(Disclaimer: No marmosets were injured in the making of this movie. These monkeys might not even be marmosets. Any similarity to the eating habits of EiNY readers is purely coincidental.)

As I said in my previous post, Rio is surrounded by mountains. This a view of the city from the top of Sugar Loaf mountain. If you look closely you can just make out the Christ statue on top of the tallest mountain, the Corcovado, in the background to the right of the picture. Out of view to the left are Copacabana and Ipanema beaches. Out of view to the right is the city center and Lapa, where we went dancing at the weekend. The sea is off the edge of the picture in the foreground to the right.

Sugar Loaf mountain might not be the tallest in Rio but the view is nevertheless impressive. It is reached via two cable car rides, first to a smaller mountaintop and then to Sugar Loaf itself. The second journey, swinging more than 1,000 ft above sea level, is straight out of a Bond movie. And the height is an excellent vantage point to watch sea birds gliding by on the air currents (My zoom isn’t poweful enough to get a good photo of the birds but they remind me of a cross between a vulture (black, large wingspan) and a heron (pterodactyl-shaped body).)

This is the view of the sweeping Copacanabana Beach (far left) from the top of Sugar Loaf mountain. Ipanema beach, where we are staying, is hidden in the background, where the shoreline sweeps back towards the right.

There is nothing bland about Rio. It is a city that seems to have been dumped in the middle of a rain forest surrounded by mountains on three sides and a perfect blue ocean on the other. Rio’s streets are lined with giant trees sprouting enormous, deep green leaves. The buildings are a mix of bland concrete interspersed with Portugese colonial architecture. Much of it seems to be in a state of semi disrepair.

The Cariocas (residents of Rio) of both sexes are mainly tall, slim, athletic and good looking; a mix of African, Portugese and Amerindian. Everyone’s face tells a story. I’ve seen at least a dozen men who look like they could play for the Brazilian football (soccer) team.

In fact, since we arrived on Saturday I’ve seen more football than I see in New York in a year. When we landed at Sau Paulo airport on Saturday en route for Rio the first thing to catch my eye was a football match taking place behind a fence at the side of the runway. Every bar seems to have a television showing the latest match while everywhere there are games taking place at the side of the road or on the beach. The Maracana stadium in Rio holds 180,000 people. Even Sofie is talking about going to see a game.

Apart from football, music is the most pervasive past-time in Rio. Last night, our first in the city, we headed to Lapa, a lively district near the center of town that is renowned for Samba, forro and chorro. It was a mainly local crowd, who seemed to know the words to every song. We came away drunk around 2am clutching three CDs and having befriended a 40-something Cariocan called Octavio who appeared mortally wounded when, in the course of our long conversation about music and the city, I accidentally told him that I did not like football.

Apart from the football faux pas everything went well. My hips even discovered a love of samba. (P.S. Apologies that the video appears to be out of sync but there’s a sun lounger on the roof of our hotel with my name on it. More soon.)