As I am still gawping at the screen for another batch of seconds: the landline “wakes me up”, it's Herve, again, asking me how do I feel? The idiot, how could I possibly feel when I just watched a 3 min program full of Gisele Bundchen replicas (blondes or brunettes) where the biggest piece of clothing worn in, is a tank top. I am muttering something like; great, fantastic, excellent, wow, wish I was there, then we talked for a few more seconds and I hung up. Just to pick the phone up again, to call my travel agent to find out just how much the “Brazilian dream” could cost me. After playing with his keyboard for ages, he gave me some price in between 700 to 850 £ and that was just for the flight, as I was about to thank him nicely for his time, and hang up, he ask me if I would be considering non-direct flight. When I ask him what he had in mind, he tells me that by transiting to Paris, I could save 45% on it!

Now there is someone who is speaking my language, and he isn't even French!(did you get that?) I listen to his suggestion; technically, there are flights to Rio de Janeiro from anywhere in Europe, but the place where it is cheaper, at the moment, is Paris, in France! And he is back on his computer again; after a few moments, this time, I can “feel” his smile throughout the phone, especially when he gives me the final price, 432£, including taxes! The connection flight in Paris with “Air France” will increase my trip considerably, but after all, what is an extra 2 or 3 hours, when you are saving so much money? I pre book it, get dressed as soon as I can to go to work and while in the tram, I am going through various scenario in my head to justify my holiday to my team leader!

To my amazement, he agrees, no one is absent on this period, so…why not? Still not believing my luck, I don't stop repeating myself this sentence: “I am going to Rio, I am going to Rio!!!”(with a Chris Rock voice) You see, I come from the small island of Martinique in the Caribbean, and back there, any flight out was so expensive that, traveling around really was a dream! So when I arrived in Europe and I discovered prices as little as £20 for a half haul trip, I promised myself that everywhere I could go, I would go!! And Brazil was always top of the list. When I contacted Herve that night to tell him about it, he laughed, very loudly! Of course, his laugh ended when he saw the tickets that had been issued to me by the travel agent with the airport code of Rio de Janeiro written on it. Even when I will be 50, I will still remember his face, priceless!

In Paris a few days later, despite hearing Portuguese all around me, I still haven't grasped the idea that I am heading for the partying capital of South America. I managed to get a good seat at the check in, therefore I am sat next to a window, with plenty of legs space (I am 6ft3) and a free seat between me and Bernard, the 62 years old retired, divorcee French man who is also fulfilling his dream of seeing Rio “before he dies”, which is an old French adage we had for years, “voir Rio et mourir”, (to see Rio and die)! The lovely air hostess is offering us some champagne, which disappoints me slightly, as I was expecting plenty of cachaca throughout the flight! She kindly explains to me that it is usually the case when you come back from the country. Therefore all I could get now is French alcohol.

I never really quite understood why people love champagne so much, but hey, whatever rocks your boat eh? Not being a big drinker, and I insist, not being a big drinker, (one half glass of coconut punch from my country twice a year) I decide to “let my hair down”, which is a weird thing to say when you are a shaved hair black man like me! Anyway, after dinner and two, yes, two small bottles of champagne, I head for the small “stretching legs” area at end of the plane and now, wow, I finally get the feeling of Rio de Janeiro. There were about 20 people standing around, dancing, chatting and even playing some Latin jazz on a small radio brought by one of the passengers. I let a great looking brunette tempt me to do two steps and I am happy to see that my salsa skills are not as rusty as I would have thought! 4 hours later and we are all acquainted. There is a large group of retired people (including Bernard) crossing the Atlantic for the first time, there is a small group of backpackers who plan on spending 4 months in all the countries of South America and of course the rest are made of various people, mostly Brazilians who are just going back home after “buying half of Europe”, according to them. I bet those ones are not going back to the favelas eh?!

When we finally land, we exchange emails and phones numbers, knowing that we probably never going to see each other again, and we all go our way. I am a bit surprised of the state of the airport, for a big town like Rio, I was expecting something a little bit more “upscale”, but hey, how long do we really spend in an airport really? In the landing part of it, mind? 20/30 min tops? So why fix something which isn't broken?

As I am slowly walking out of the “controlled area”, I am getting assaulted by about 20 men, all dressed casually shouting: “I speak English, I speak English” to me expecting that I would pick them to get me to the hotel. They must be thinking that all black men are from USA. Funny that! I decide to go from the less dodgy looking one, a 40 years old looking guy, who gave me a great smile and who seems to weight far less than me. It is very important when you arrive in a new country and you are about to get somewhere with someone you don't know, to always pick someone that you feel you can “take”, in case they get any weird ideas! And this one did not scare me one bit, so…

As we are heading for the well lit car park nearby, he asks me if I need an ATM, another tip, wherever country you are going to, always travel with a reasonable sum of money which you can either use first hand to take a taxi to the hotel or that you could afford to lose in case you get mugged! And of course, always go for American dollars, the only currency which is accepted worldwide. I decline politely and tell him which hotel I am going to, which he seems to know; as we step into the car, I ask him if we will pass the statue of the “Corcovado”, the huge Jesus Christ which is overlooking the bay of the town. He smiles, nods and then asks me how come every time someone arrives in Rio, this is the first thing they wanna see? And I tell him: “the same way people go all the way to Paris to see the Eiffel tower, it is the landmark of the town”. What did he expect me to want see first? Pele? Gisele Bundchen? Or the transvestites?? He smiles but doesn't answer.

Just before we drive off, he asks me what the purpose of my visit in here was: business, pleasure or the usual; which is sex. Having recently ended a relationship, I don't feel any desire to get “back on the horse” that quick, so… I decide to pass on the sex bit, which he finds odd. After telling me that the national sport in Brazil, beside football is to have lots of girls, in a row, I realize how close they are to the “national sport” of Martinique, my country.

The night is warm, but moist with humidity, he talks me through most of the places we are driving through, the hypermarket named “Rio Sul”, the Sugar Loaf, the big night clubs, etc, etc, After seeing how I frown when we passed some of the trendy places, he asks if I was here on a budget, to which I nod. This is when he started to tell where the best places to have fun for, for cheap, including eating out. Again, another one who speaks my language and again, he isn't French!

After inquiring about my religion, and my food preferences, I suppose being a vegetarian or a teetotal in Brazil could be a bit of a challenge, he suggested me to always go to “churrascarias”, which are larges barbecue-all-you-can-eat restaurants where they are cooking every single animal alive in the country, including snakes or crocodiles.

He drops me off at the hotel, I tip him generously, then heads for the reception where I settle my bill in full, this gets me a 15% discount and then I head for the Copacabana beach. I have read and heard horrors stories about this area, where people regularly gets mugged, just “because they breathe” in this famous avenue, well, let me tell you, it couldn't be further from the truth. The place is lit like a Christmas tree, there is people everywhere, including policemen, and this carries on up until around 4 to 5 in the morning, when the sun actually rises. If you wanted to hear an “urban legend” about Rio, this is it. I walked on the strip for a little while, interacting sometimes with the Brazilians, other time with the Americans or even French I bumped into and that night, even though I was knackered by the trip, I felt like I didn't wanna go back to England at all!

The following day despite my tiredness, I manage to get out of the bed for 7h30, just in time to see the sun slowly rise from my bedroom window. I head for the sea, sit there and contemplate the evolution of the Brazilian society. Being an observant since I was about 9 years old, I decide to find a nice spot right on the pavement of a large boulevard next to my hotel and I watch the countless number of people going to work. Women in high heels, man in short sleeves with briefcases, group of kids going to school, etc, etc.. in about one hour, this whole parade is over. Knowing that I only have nine days at my disposal, I take the first bus coming my way, pay the fare and sit next to a window. Another tip when you want to see a town, get into a bus next to your hotel, go to the end of the line, then take it back and do it again and again for a whole day, with various other routes. It is absolutely amazing the things you can see in one trip with the public transportation! After a day of doing nothing whatsoever than checking the town out, I head back to the hotel for a nap. I have noticed a few clubs around and I will go back later tonight, after midnight to have a drink.

It is 20h when I wake up that night and after a quick shower I go for a meal in one of the restaurants the taxi told me about. Because of the time and the fact that I wanted to party till the wee hours, I decide to go for a light salad with some grilled horse meat. I never had it before but it seems different from other red meats.

After finishing my meal, as fast as I could, midnight wasn't very far away, I take the bus which brings me back to the club I saw in the afternoon. And then, oh boy, what did I get myself into; the queue is massive, about 60 to 70 meters long. I walk right to the bottom of it and then start checking out the girls in front of me. They are so gorgeous; it would take me ages to make a choice, all well dressed, with perfect tan and great figures! I wasn't on the queue for more than a few minutes when one of the bouncers came to talk to me. I don't understand a word of what he is saying but he smiles at me, so I follow him. We walk towards the entrance, and then, in an inviting gesture, he points the entrance to me. I glance at the all the people on the queue, he nods, still with a smile, then I walk up the stairs, the club, which is on two levels, is bright, with mahogany walls, a balcony, a dance floor, various bars and tables and packed with the same type of gorgeous women (and men) than downstairs.

I order a cachaca, next to an olive skin girl that seems to have a permanent smile on her face. The atmosphere is lively, they are playing an old song of Gilberto Gil, which even I recognize and I head for the terrace. There, I can see a large Brazilian mulatto talking loudly with his mates. I start speaking to him, to see if he understands English and to my surprise, he does. He actually speaks it fluently. He is called Fritz, a nickname I assume, then, after asking me where I am from, I found out that he was living in Manchester, 8 to 9 months before, not very far from where I am currently residing!!! My god, what a small world, he is even telling me about clubs in my town which I haven't heard about! After all, he is a drum and base DJ, so, he should know…

The night went through like a shot, bringing his fair share of drinks, dancing, phone numbers and kissing, yes, kissing… I met this incredible dark fizzy hair primary school teacher, Valerie, who was very taken by me and my mix of French Caribbean accent, and “Moss Side” slangs… An heritage coming from my Jamaican friends back in Manchester I suppose.

I went back to the hotel that night, alone, and couldn't sleep until 9h, something to do with the fact that I still couldn't believe that I was in the country of my dreams. So much had happened in 24 hours. My new friend Fritz was busy the next few days, so I decided to visit the town on my own, as planned. I decided that my first port of call should be the “Corcovado”, the statue of Christ on top of the mountain. I took a bus behind my hotel, to do the 35 min drive to the place, and would you believe it, it cost me something like 17 pence… Anyway, as I got there, I met this lovely Peruvian couple on their way to the landmark as well. To get to the top of the mountain, you have two options, either the little funicular or an approved governmental taxi. The second one is slightly expensive, 7£ instead of £1.50, but at least you have it for the whole day, and you can share it, which we done. It took us about one hour to get to the top, but when you are there, the view is just magnificent. The statue embraces the whole city, you can see as far as 150 km on 360 degree, so much so that you can check out all the other landmarks as well, such as “Sugar Loaf” or the Maracana stadium, the Copacabana and the Ipanema beaches, the Tijuca forest, which is the biggest urban forest of world, with about 300 varieties of plants and flowers, and of course the favellas.

I have talked about it previously, and for all those who don't know what this is, here is a little explanation, a favella is a form of big neighborhood where people who are extremely poor live, in Brazil. Some call them towns, other just little cities. They have been built back at the end of last century, around 1895, and their instigators used the hills around the main cities of Brazil for their project. They needed places to stay to find work and the favella was providing exactly that. To this day, the Brazilian government is trying everything possible to rehabilitate those areas, but with population of around 3 to 4 millions people, it has been proved an insurmountable tasks. The biggest one is Rocinha, (see photo next week) which I have “visited”, for a few dollars, it has a population of around 500000 souls. People at my hotel tried to dissuade me from doing that, but I have noticed that one of the perks of being a black man, is that in some countries you can go “unnoticed”, so I did.

It was a surreal experience, not because it was great, but because I couldn't believe that in 2006, after having sent a man onto the moon, allegedly, human beings could still be living in such appalling conditions. It made my life back in Manchester, where I could have an “issy fit” for stupid things such as not getting into a crowded clubs on a Saturday, in perspective. They are a “town in the town”, with even things such as little supermarket, doctors offices or even clubs. Of course, the crowd has nothing to do with the “Living Room's”. I talked to one of the “guides” who explained to me that with the huge demand for space nowadays, you couldn't just come and set home in a favella if you don't pay the “entrance fee” of around £100. Just another proof that with the best desire in the world to keep certain things free, capitalism will always prevail; I suppose I don't have to tell you that it is a very dangerous place where people could, sorry, are getting killed in broad daylight… So beware that going to visit such places could potentially be fatal. (especially if you are not a 6ft3 large black man)

After going back to the hotel, it took me a while to realize that I just played with my life somehow, and that I lived to tell the tale. But I didn't let this deter my spirit, Fritz had invited me to lunch later that day with his mother, who was working in a big office complex some miles down my street, 30 actually. This is when I started to realize that Rio, as opposed to other towns which are actually round, squared or octagonal, is in fact a long strip made of little cities stretching itself along the east cost of South America. Which makes it impossible to define, in terms of city center, anywhere could be a city center…

Next time, my first foursome…