You can take an escalator to Big Jesus

The last time I came to Rio, I didn't go to the Big Jesus.

I generally derive no pleasure from seeing super-touristy stuff when I travel.  I was tricked into seeing the Eiffel Tower, I've never been to the Statue of Liberty.   But the Christ the Redeemer statue that looks over all of Rio has always appealed to me.  The idea of a Big Jesus just wanting to give Rio a hug seemed like a nice Jesus.  And, he looks so kind and friendly, almost like the cartoon Jesus in South Park.

Lysia and I, on day 3 of this adventure, still didn't have a proper beach day.  It's been sufficiently hot, but overcast since we arrived, and we had a choice as to whether we wanted to do Big Jesus first or after the beach.  We figured if we didn't see Big Jesus first, it might not happen, and I didn't want to leave Rio twice without seeing Him.  

Our friends at the B&b gave us a couple of options.  One was to take the metro to a bus to a tram, and they told us some price which we promptly forgot.  All we heard was that we HAD to get a combination metro ticket, which was special and different from the declining balance card we had been using,

So we get to the metro, and I ask the woman for the ticket to Corcovado, the mountain where Big Jesus lives.  She confirms that we need this special ticket, and it costs $8.70.

The fare for the metro normally is 3.20.  We take it two stops.  There is no special exit for Corcovado.  We get to the street and get on the bus labeled Corcovado.  There seems nothing special about this bus, and not everyone who is on the bus is going to Big Jesus.  The bus normally is 3.00.  So we bought a combination ticket for 8.70, and we cannot figure out what that extra 2.70 was for and who took notice that we were going to see Big Jesus.

Immediately after getting off the bus, there's a tour tout who is trying to sell us a ticket for a bus that costs $50 that goes quickly up to Big Jesus, and also makes a couple of stops with a good view up the way.  We, the New Yorkers that we are, are all "ain't nobody got time for three stops" and felt like $50 was more than we were quoted.  We say no, and the guy wasn't pushy and gave us a look that we, in retrospect, determined meant "ok, your funeral."

We cross the street to the tram.  Also $50.  Oh well.  We like trams.  

I've heard a number of people tell me that going to see Big Jesus is usually a big let down.  You usually buy tickets online, for a certain times slot, and you get there and have to wait in a long line, and then you get up there and it's so high up and overcast that you don't see anything, anyway.   We get there and the girl tells us that  there is no visibility, and we cannot get our money back, and to make sure we understood, they stamp our ticket in red, in three languages "NO VISIBILITY."  We, like everyone else, go anyway.

The line for the tram is empty, and we're really excited.  It's a 20 minute tram ride up the mountain, and there is nothing to see except foliage and jackfruit.  Lysia swears she sees one bird of prey.  Whatever.  Still fun to be on a tram going up the side of a mountain, even though i realize I am planning my escape route in case the tram crashes like the one in Santa Teresa.  Lysia laughs at me, but I tell her my escape route involves me saving her anyway.

We get up to the top.  We have to pee.  Turns out the toilets don't work because there is no water.  There is a very pretty, sweet, interesting looking Brazilian/Australian girl who is giving us advice on what we should do in Rio while the same time complaining loudly in Australian-accented English that it was very uncool for the woman leaving the toilet to have "dropped a giant poo" in a non-working toilet.  I didn't look, but evidently it was really offensive, because the three women in front of me walked in, and walked back out.

I trusted their instinct, and wondered if it would be ok to pop a squat right next to Big Jesus.  I mean, He sees all, anyway.

We take an elevator up, thinking it is going to be this big ride.  It takes less than 30 seconds.  Then there's a set of escalators.  Lysia is tickled that you can take an escalator to Big Jesus.  In Spain, there is a whole pilgrimage people take walking across the country.  Here, it's an escalator straight to Jesus.

The statue itself is pretty, but looks so much smaller up close than it does from all of the photographs.  Kind of unremarkable.  It's so foggy that He seemed to appear and disappear right in front of us.  It's a little strange.  We read that he's about 98 feet tall and his arms stretch out about the same width, and for a moment i think about that his proportions aren't even close to the Golden Ratio, and that had to be on purpose, and that there had to be a significant part of the construction... Maybe his disproportionate wingspan is meant to give a feeling that his arms were so huge that his welcome seemed more insistent and obvious.  Maybe it's not disproportionate....What the hell was MY wingspan to height ratio?  Maybe it's not off at all.

That's about as religious as I got up in front of Big Jesus.  I was thinking about math.

The BrazilAussie told us she waited two hours to see the clouds clear for the view of the city.  Lysia and I lasted about 15 minutes before i turned to her and and said, "can we go now?" 

Back down the elevator, and there's a working bathroom with WAY TOO MANY PEOPLE for the tram back down.  NOW we understand what the tour operator gives that the tram doesn't.  An expedient exodus from Big Jesus.  We are behind a tour group of 37 Canadian retirees, very worried that they are not going to make it back to their cruise ship in time.  Not more worried than their  Brazilian tour guide carrying the Canadian flag and screaming at tram operator to get moving.  He's sweating through his shirt.  We make friends with a couple of older ladies, who are super sweet, although one tells us how much she hated New York City so much you know, because of the people.  We try to defend New Yorkers, that we're very nice, except, yeah, if we're on the way to work and you're in the way, you should,really get the fuck out of the way.  She remained unconvinced.   We told them we would pray for them, getting back on the cruise ship in time.

Maybe Big Jesus got to us after all.

This is the point in the trip where Lysia becomes completely obsessed with the amount of coins she's amassing and can't seem to get rid of.  We're waiting in line at the metro station to refill our card.  We've got $2.20 on it, and we need a total of $6.40 for our last metro trip in rio.  She excitedly counts out the $4.20, in a large stack of coins, that she's going to give the man at the counter.  Success!  I now feel like that old lady at the grocery store carefully counting every penny, and I get a scary look into our future.   The man tells us that he has to put a minimum of $5 on the card when he reloads.

We're sure he means that the card has to HAVE a minimum of $5, and now we're telling him (patiently) that there's already some money on the card, and there will be a total of more than $5 when we're done.  He (very patiently) tells us that HE must put a minimum of $5 on the card.

Foiled, Lysia now (impatiently) tells him that there will be more than $5 on the card, and that the system is a little ridiculous.  The man is so sweet, never losing his cool.  There's a large line behind us.  No one cares.  I guess brazilians are used to bullshit rules and following them anyway, and the man is just nonplussed at the bullshit and our frustration and large stack of coins.  I plop down a $1 coin, tell Lysia it's not worth it, and the man gives her a little bit of change back.  Lysia just starts laughing.  More fucking coins.

We get some food and make it back to the B&b much later than we thought, about 6 pm.  Daniel and Reana, a couple who works at the B&b, told us they would take us to a "bloco," another rehearsal/party that is up in the Santa Teresa hills, in the favela called "prazerela," or "pleasure."  A favela is a poor or working class community (usually translated as "slum," although I refuse) that is usually run by drug lords.  You cannot enter a favela without being accompanied by someone who lives there, or some kind of organization.  I've never been to one, but I know it's a big deal, so I'm very cautious at first,  it wasn't actually in the favela, just on the outside, and there were plenty of people there from outside the favela.   It was in a roofed recreation center, and, as most favelas are built high into the mountains, had an amazing view of Rio.   Don't know why we needed to go to Big Jesus for the view...we should have just gone straight to the favela.

In fact, the only thing that made it Stand out as something a little... Dangerous.... Was the women's bathroom.  Lysia and I walk in and there's three women, separated by walls and no doors, squatting with long hair draped over the front of their faces.  They were like jail toilets.  Lysia and I say "what the fuck" and squat right down next to them.  I did ok, but Lysia is convinced she peed all over herself and was covered in everyone else's pee, too.  

Another great night of dancing, in front of a good 50 musicians, but in a much more local, block party fashion.  I didn't think I would make it, being that I once again didn't really eat anything of substance since lunch, but a couple of guaraná sodas (energy drinks) and I was good to go.  We narrowly escaped another spell of pouring, soaking, rain, and at this point Lysia and I are convinced we are good luck charms to alleviate the Rio drought.  

We got such amazing treatment at this B&b...everyone who worked there was so sweet and went out of their way to show us a good time, and share in that time with us.  Sad to leave Rio, but very excited to go to Salvador da  Bahia for some beach time, some African-origin Brazilian food, and a lot more samba.