blogvid

If there is one thing you do in your life make it a trip to Rio de Janeiro for New Years. I intend to go to Carnaval within the next few years, so this may be updated then, but for now I know, without a doubt, the greatest party I have ever experienced was new year's eve 2006 new year's morning 2007. It seemed like our destiny was doomed when we trekked to Copacabana beach on the morning of the 31st in the rain. we spent five days in Rio and had yet to soak up some rays on the beach. we finally made it on my last day. while we soaked on the beach, 'twas not of the solar variety. shorts, a shirt, and sandals do not make a good rain outfit. but alas that was the style of the day so we draped our wet towels over our heads and searched for lunch. oh, and we had gone out the night before and only had about five hours of sleep (this previous night was also very good, but would pale in comparison to what was to come). we found a place to eat. i had a tasty steak (i think i still have about seven steaks stuck in my colon.... that country loves meat and so do i) and some french fries, and some manioc flour (think sand that tastes like triscuits), white rice, broccoli, and some choppe (beer--pronounced "shop-E", not "chop" or "shop" as we were saying for this first 90% of the trip). the choppe's were of the large variety. we metro-rio'd it back to the hostel for a nap. the alarm was set for 6, but i woke up at 5:30 so i too ka shower since i was about 36 hours ripe, or rotten, depending on your POV. because of my premi shower (like a baby shower, but the clothes are smaller) i was ready a little earlier and went downstairs to cut up a pineaple i bought earlier for about $1.50. we all ate cheese, bread, mango, and pineapple with a large side of wine for dinner. i headed downstaris to clean the cups we borrowed for the wine and met two argentinian girls in the kitchen, one of whom was undeniably and rediculously hawt. i will admit that part of my extreme attraction to her, besides her amazing looks, was due to her excellent accent, broken english, and uber infectious smile which i suspect was encouraged by the vodka in her drink. they were named Cecilia and Conny. Now "Conny" is actually a nickname for, drumroll please...... "Costanza"!!!!!! She had no idea who Seinfeld was let alone good ol' Georgie C. "Short, fat, bald man," i explained with hand gesture accompaniment. she laughed with her hand over her face to denote a bit of embarrassment, i think. i explained further "hay mucha differencia." already smitten with the one, and Cecilia not too far behind, a third argentinian walks in and blows my mind with her beauty. they asked me if we wanted to go out with them for the new year. they were nowhere near ready while peter, manisha, matt, and jared were all rarin to go, so i had to decline. this was the right decision, but oh so hard to make. i grabbed a beer from the hostel bar and we left in search of an onibus to copacabana. no luck, so we hopped in a taxi. copacabana beach is riddled with people and street vendors selling everything and anything (okay, really just alcohol (caipirinhas, beer), coconuts, fried food, various clothing for ushering in the new year (wearing white is a big thing, though not as big as guide books would have you believe), cigarettes, meats (beef, chicken, shrimp) on a stick, balloons (attached to the bags holding cotton candy... your guess is as good as mine), and who knows what else). the beachfront streets were closed down and every five feet another vendor had set up shop with their "shops" ranging from dirty old styrofoam coolers to large carts equipped with grills, deep friers, and most importantly Caipirinha muddlers. we brought our own social lube with us in the form of four bottles of bubbly, and four flasks of whiskey. can you spell alcoholic? so we drank our own libations and bought some from the locals and we were merry. we were tickled when the woman making our caipirinhas took a swig from her beer while she shook our drinks in the "Rio Shaker" ( in contrast to common Boston Shaker a Rio Shaker is a plastic jar with a lid). this time also involved many a trip to the portable banheiros set up in the street only to see the long-ass lines, leading to us drain ourselves in less-than-typical "bathrooms" . public urination is wonderful. we also stopped at a "suco" stand where you can buy "sucos" (fresh fruit juices) for a a dollar or two, which is not to be confused with a "sucko" which can also be purchased for a few dollars... ah, but i digress. aroud 11:30 we sclaimed out a spot on the sand in the name of america. after stading about 100 feet from the water for a few minutes we, by which i mean Jared, decided to ditch our stroghold and move closer to the water. with our little tootsies firmly planted in wet sand and our calved being lapped by the tongue of the atlantic we basked in the rediculosity of it all-- atlantic in front, 2 million people behind, ready to party. no, strike that. ready to party more. we ran along the beach in the direction of ipanema, cartwheels and all. if i had to guess, i would say few people were having as much fun as we were. though perhaps i am a bit biased. it was amazing. then i saw a familiar face, and then two more. the argentinian girls from the hostel had worked their way up to the front of the crowd as well. they told me to get out my flask (in spanish) to toast the new year which was fast approaching. i was about to comply when matt informed me we were about to fun really really fast. again, hard to leave such beauty, but thats not what the night was about. we took off at breakneck speed. we danced in the water, yelled in jubilation and the lookers-on, fiving-high a few here and there. then, the longest fireworks show i've ever seen began ( i have no idea if time was suspended in my mind or if they really lasted that long). we hugged, and cheered, and flipped in the water. i attacked the waves, yelled some profanities at all the land-lubbers. the last two bottles of champagne we had hauled around was an afterthought. the white shorts i had donned for the coming of the new year were now displaying my tropical-themed boxers to the entire world. what i had expected to become the worlds largest wet t-shirt concert in the world was simply a big sand celebration for most. less than 1% of the people were in the water. the fireworks reflected off the trillion gallon mirror as they erupted over the mutitude of cruise ships dominating the horizon. soon after the light show finished the cruise ships had departed, unable to follow us to ipanema for an amazing musical performance by the Black Eyed Peas. The BEPs mixed english, portuguese, local musicians, and a message of peace and love into a set that lasted about two hours. i think. we chanted "maria, maria" with Jorge Ramos, and got retarded with a Fergie and a million others. i had to play peace-keeper with the lesbians jared and peter kept falling on. luckily one was friendly. the other wanted to pop Jared in the face. after a while i tapped the "mean" lesbian on the shoulder. she looked at me, perplexed. i put out my hand to shake hers. so hesitated. gave a silent grunt and obliged. i thought perhaps i had made a bad move.but i smiled as friendly as i could. a moment later she turned to me grinning with her hand up high ready to receive mine in a cinco-alto. As the concert began Jared asked "are we on Ipanema? All i remember is fireworks and then we were here." he had apparently forgotten the twenty minutes when he led the way from copa to ipa. after the BEPs were done we went back to the water to get a little extra dirty beach water under our skin. by the time we got back to the street it was 3am. we walked back to copa and ran into the manager from our hostel. when asked what he was doing he said "we are going to eat and drink some more, you come." an offer i find difficult to resist in foreign lands. after ten seconds of convincing, my compatriates were on board for the eat 'n' drink. this all occurred in the rain. as we waited for our food i found out the hostel manager had to go to the hospital for two days on an IV after carnaval this past year. i was sold. he offered to book a room for this year. but i will be in Cali, so i ahd to decline. it was "cold" at 70 degrees and raining. we wanted to get our numb prune-thumbs home. we grabbed some more beers and waited for an available taxi. the rest was fairly uneventful. a few beers, the realization that my flask was somewhere in the atlantic ocean, greeting all the other hosteleres as they returned from their own crazy nights. in the end we had partied for over 12 hours straight with the clock threatening 7am as we dove into our sheets to slumber.