Rio de Janeiro

The statue of Christ holds its blessing hand over virgins, sinners and the girl

from Ipanema. But Christ is not always the self sacrificing soul that we learned

about in Sunday school. Here Christ is often just a dream, an illusion that has been

given its substance in form of a gigantic statue that is visible from all the

shadier part of Rio. To take a step into the city's nightlife is to take a step

towards a truer self, a self that you for a long time have been suspicious of, but

which has not been allowed to blossom in a culture which suppresses any kind of

ungodly activity. This term has slowly but certainly eroded away from the vocabulary

of Rio de Janeiro. When you approach Copacabana beach you close in on the strongest

of temptations. These take the shape of 20-year-old beauties, which makes

Norwegians girls pale in comparison. The bodily ideals of Platon are visible on

every street corner. One look here is the same as balancing along unspeakable borders.

To leave this city will be a bigger challenge than to bike through this large continent.

Until now the biking part of our trip has been limited to some small trip

along Rio's many beaches. We bike south from Copacabana towards Ipanema and Leblon,

Rio more fancy areas. Here the intellect is dominated by the stature of the body.

Roman gods and goddesses is floating gracefully along the beach walk, and mixed

with Scandinavian tourists it looks like a museum of the ideals of the body.

Everybody has their corner and people's eyes are never resting.

19 February

Rio de Janeiro - Itacuruca

105 kilometers

20.5 km/t

After a week with traditional beach holiday the serious biking is about to begin.

We start off with a medium leg of 105 kilometers to the coastal town of Itacuruca.

When you are biking in tropical climate it is necessary to get off to an early start,

and for us this means that we had been dreaming of starting our day in the saddle

at 6:30 in the morning. This would give us about 12,5 hours of daylight before it

fades out fairly rapidly around 19:00. But in the good tradition of previous trips

we prioritize sleep over coolness, and are not ready to leave before 9:30.

After sun comes rain. The heat is unbearable and in no time we are drenched in sweat.

The body feels like it is covered in a jelly like outer layer, as a result of

the clothing being melted together with salt, sand and sweat.

Getting out of Rio is a fairly easy task, and except having to bike against the

traffic a couple of times we do not experience any problems.

New bikes need some time getting tuned in. With 35 kilos on each bike they seem a

little unstable, and we fear they will let us down already before we reach the

city border. The smallest of road bumps makes the bike vibrate for what feels like

several seconds. We feel like a new born veal taking its first uncertain steps.

After a while though, the bike and baggage feels as natural as ones own hands and feet.

The road is flat and our traveling speed fairly high, as with spin along the highway

together with Rio's hurrying mass of people. Here the heaviest rule, and even

though our traveling mass measure close to 120 kilo( biker included) it is not

much to take on to the playing fields when you play with trucks and touristbuses

of 20-30 tons. They pass us with a honk of the horn and sniffs at our rear

panniers, in this way we experience the Brazilian Kiss of Death. 40 kilometers

outside the city border we experience first hand what the heat does to a body

which has not taken in enough liquid. Half way up the first hill we meet the

famous wall, and have to stop for little while. It is a new experience, because the

hill itself is by no means big compared to what we scaled in previous trips.

With extremities devoured of oxygen we roll over and hope to die when we reach the

next gas station.

We stay lying on the ground for about an hour, and empty almost 3 liter of water

bottles each.

People are nice and give us the thumbs up when they pass us in their cars.

One family keeps driving beside us for a couple of kilometers taking pictures for

their holiday album.

We reach Itacuruca after dark and decide to follow some hotel advice we got at

our last stop. The place is nice and we fall a sleep at 21:30, totally exhausted.

20 February

Itacuruca - Angra Dos Reis

75 Kilometer

20.1 km/t

The alarm goes off at 8:00, and we get out of bed half and hour later. After a cool

shower ( the hot water gives you electrical shock in the electrical heated shower)

we sit down to eat breakfast. This consist of some fruit, the international

combination of ham and cheese and a lot of cake. Chocolate cake, muffins,

fruitcake and several cookies. The cakes are something that we would have to get

use to as part of the Brazilian breakfast. They give us lots of carbohydrates,

which work good as biking energy.

This day promises to just as hot as the day before. It is more than 40 degrees in

the sun, and few clouds in the sky. We decide to continue along a smaller road

around the peninsula instead of going back towards the highway. This would prove

to be a tiresome choice. The road twists and turns as it hang on to the mountainside.

The flora is more exotic than what we experienced the day before. Green colours

in different nuances grows all the way down to the side of the road, and makes

it difficult to spot the road signs. These you see only as you are along the side

of them, and then you have to throw the head back quick enough to be able to

read the information before it is too late. There are few cars on the road, and

we have the opportunity to daydream of our romantic ideals of biking

in South America. A dream consisting of roads framed by palm trees with football

kicking boys playing along the side.

We finally reach a small town consisting of one main road and three speed bumps.

At the other end of the mainroad we ask for directions back to the highway.

Unfortunately our limited capabilities in Portuguese makes this in to a difficult

task. The girl in the Tv shop points straight forward, but to us it seems like

this is a dead end as the road apparently ends at cluster of houses.

Our next guides are a group of kids that swarm towards us as we stop seemingly lost.

They to point straight ahead, and say aqui,aqui ( here,here), while we are trying

to explain to them that Norway has actually never lost to Brazil playing football.

We follow the directions given to us and end up back on the highway, after

having to push the bike up a small path for a couple of hundred meters.

The rest of the day consist of a lot of up and down biking along the coast. We

pass by several holiday spots for the rich and famous, who has build walled in

holiday colonies with everything included. We stop and eat lunch at one of the

many restaurants by the road who serve food by the kilo. It is a kind of buffet with

warm and cold dishes, where the food is weighted. The weighted of the plate is

withdrawn, and then you pay for your food weighted times a set prize per kilo.

The selection consists of rice, pasta, lasagne, cow and chicken meat and

fresh vegetables. We filled our plates with a variety of food, and has not had any

trouble with our stomachs since Rio.

Later that day we are told that we have passed one of Brazils and South Americas

largest industrial harbours without noticing. We have to blame the sun and the heat.

We arrive in Angra dos Reis, just before dark, about 18:30. It does not look like

a very exciting city judging by the road we travel in on, but this prove to be a

too haste fully conclution. The brick roads are full of life. They are preparing

for the carnival which starts in a few days time. We find a cheap hotel, which means

that we have to carry the bikes up three steep stairways to the 3rd floor.

For supper we digest a menu at the local McDonalds ( Bob's).

21 February

Angra dos Reis - Paraty

105 kilometers

20.21 km/t

After an early breakfast down at the docks, it is time to get back in the saddle

and pedal the last 100 kilometer until we reach the colonial town of Paraty.

This is suppose to be own of the pearls of the Brazilian gold coast.

Biking is still taking its toll, and has not become routine yet. If we only could get

one day with not too many hills so we would be able to reach 140 kilometers without

having to go totally to pieces. This day would not be one of those days.

After riding 15 kilometers on uneven asphalt getting out of Angra dos Reis, the

climbing begins. On the top of the first hill we meet Rogerio, a Brazilian on his

way by bike from Sao Paolo to Rio de Janeiro. We ask him if there are many hills

to come in the direction we are going, and he replies by smiling before he tells

us that what we have been through so far is nothing compared to what lies ahead.

He claims that in our future there is hills that will make us remember his

dreadful forecast. ( This taught me something more than just the new found cycling

knowledge. For the first time I reach an understanding of my old high school

Norwegian teacher's attempt of teaching us the meaning of things that are that

point ahead in when one are analyzing texts. Rogerio gave us this sneaking

sensation that something not too pleasant was about to happen). Before he continues

on he invites us to his home in Sao Paolo if our travels should take us through

this city.

We would have liked to take him up on his offer, but will probably steer clear

of Sao Paolo. The world's second largest city is not the most tempting of places

when you are carrying your whole life on a bicycle.

In this climate the normal aerobic capacity is not the same as it would be in Norway.

In Norway we would be able to go app. 50 km between breaks, but here we are

satisfied with 20, proud of 30 and stupid if we go for 40. To go for 40 km means

going empty after 60, and having to stop at 80 km.

After 40 kilometers we stop to eat at a small restaurant. On these occasions we

often soon become the main attraction, and in about five minutes we are more

interesting than the annual carnival preparations. The kids wonder where we are

from, the men the same and steal a peak at our traveling companions while the

women only give us a brief look as they hurry by. On this for us extremely expensive

two wheeler, which we would not have been able to afford if it haddened been for

Intersport Norway's great generosity, it is the fairly inexpensive pedals that

gets the most attention. They get thoroughly examined, and probably lead to some

Brazilians having expert knowledge of these important items.

This day ends after dark as we arrive in Paraty at 20:00. Here we are quickly

spotted by a tourist spotter and guided through some side roads to a beautiful

small Pousada, which are ran by an old grandmother with one of brazil's warmest

smile. A Pousada is a type of bed and breakfast, fairly basic but includes a

good breakfast.

After a couple of beers and a large pizza, it is time to call it a day. Falling

asleep is easy, and except one nightly desperate hunt for water we sleep through

until morning.

22 February

Paraty- Ubatuba

84 kilometer

21.5 km/h

We have breakfast together with some well off Brazilian youths. They were preparing

to go diving in this diving paradise. A little later that same morning we see them

again, walking at the heels of one of the local diving guides.

After debating whether to stay on for another day and deciding not to, we are not

ready to leave before 11 o'clock. Next stop would prove to be too far away.

Not before we had been biking for 2 hours and more than 40 km, we arrive at

the next little village. We had passed over into the state of Sao Paolo, and

attempted and failed miserably to take some biking action photos. Sweaty palm and

tired muscles made holding the camera still a too difficult task.

We stop at the only shop there is in this village and ingest some fresh rolls with

smoked cheese, together with some biscuits and chocolate. Still the highpoint

was a cold shower from water running through a water tube on top of the building.

As we wine and dine a lot of cars with families going both directions stop and

stock up on water and other supplies. We start to fear that it might be equally

long to the next place where one can get some food and water. We try to ask how far

it is to the next city or village, but this is not as easy as it might seem. We

get several helpful answers, but they vary greatly in kilometres.

Much of the problem is founded in the way the cities are put together in this

part of Brazil. They are divided into a downtown area surrounded by the different

parts of the city just like we are used to from Norway, but they cover a much

bigger area. Each different part of the city equals a beach with its nearby buildings.

These beaches or parts of the same city can be several kilometres a part and be

divided by large mountains. The road signs don't help much. The smallest of rivers

have got there own road signs, but road sign showing the distance to the nearest

cities are hard to come by. To make the frustration complete, the few signs that

do show distances often don't show the same as our bicycle computers and maps.

A further few kilometres down the road we finally find a place to eat, unfortunately

of the more expensive kind. So we end up ordering spaghetti Bolognese and

multiple coca cola. In addition to the prizes the selection of music is also

different from the other places we had stopped. Local editions of Madonna's Material

Girl and Guns and Roses replace the Brazilian tunes. I don't know if this is

considered as finer music in this part of Brazil, but for us the combination of

expensive dishes and Axel Rose is somewhat comical.

Around 6 pm we arrive at a town called Ubatuba. The town is not marked on our

map (which we have to say is a terrible one), but prove to be a city of

considerable size. Several of the cities we have visited have been like this one,

somewhat hidden and difficult to spot from a distance. In the dark one can almost

stumble across fairly large places. This phenomenon is of course related to

the many places densely packed and tall vegetation, which blocks out light

and sound, but is also the result of cities having few "single" building on

it's outside before the denser populated part of it begins. We bike through

the city, and reach the beach walk on the other side of it.

Also here in this town the macho phenomenon is alive and well, we pass by an example

of this at a gas station where a motorbike completely clothed in leopard skin

is for sale.

We bunk down for the night at a Pousada called Peixes do Mar. A bed and breakfast

with a beautiful looking front. The oldest son of the house knows English and

explains to us about the roads we are continuing on the next day. He has shock

red hair and light brown skin. Only one of several different combinations of colours,

that you find a lot of in Brazil. The population are a mixture of Portuguese,

African and Indian origins.

23 February

Ubatuba - Boicucan

116 kilometres

19.82 km/h

For once we are able to get going before 8:30, so at 8:15 we leave Ubatuba.

It is the warmest day so far, and in the course of the day Rogerio's warning would

start growing in the back of our minds, like a tumour that you can't get rid of.

10 kilometres south of the city border, we see the oddest vision of our trip.

On the top of a hill we catch a glimpse of a figure, and we can't to begin with

make out what he is doing. A little to him we are able to make out that he is on a

bike too, but riding it a little differently from our boring traditional way.

While we are pulling our tired bodies and heavy bikes up mountain and down valleys,

he is using his bike as a surfboard. One foot on the steering and the other on

the saddle, he flies past us in more than 30 km/h. As our worlds meet he give us

the thumbs up and smiles before he continues towards the bottom of the hill.

If he didn't crash and burn at the bottom of the hill, there are several circuses

that are missing out on a great act and would do wisely sending a scout to Ubatuba.

We guarantee success.

A little later that day we meet our next Brazilian biker. His name is Gustavo,

and he had been travelling for 5 weeks. After having exchanged the information

that bikers do, we decide to bicycle the next part together. Meeting Gustavo

should prove to be a pleasant experience.

Gustavo is 21 years old, a biology student and was dreaming of making the Brazilian

triathlon team. He shows us the inexpensive places to eat, how to get free water

and invites us to spend a couple of days with him at his family's trailer.

Bicycle wise this day is hellish. Today , even more than the previous days, we

are biking up and down, up and down. Rogerio's curse has started and Gustavo does

nothing to undermine it. He tells tales of a hill lying somewhere in the future

that would make our jaws drop. With biking experience from the north of Norway,

we don't feel like complete novices when it comes to climbing. But when

Gustavo tells us of hills that are so steep that one has to take more than one

break before reaching the top, our fantasies start running wild. Before we got

that far however we stopped a few more times at a waterfall and an ocean view,

that we probably would have passed by with blinking if it hadn't been for Gustavo.

The waterfall was a nice cold change from the 30 degrees in the ocean, and we

had it all to ourselves after inadvertently having chased away a loving couple.

It had turned dark before we reach our defining moment, the big one. We are able

to see the road lights up the mountainside several kilometres before we reach

its foot. From a distance it doesn't seem so tough, and I (Knut Morten) tell Knut

that this propably shouldn't be any worse than what we already had been through.

I have probably been wrong many times before, but not many times as wrong as

this time. The hill is 3 kilometres long and climbs with an ascent of 18-24 %.

We have to use our easiest gear and sneak forward in 5-7 km/h.

Some of the steepest parts seem like a road designing joke, and we have to stop

for breaks. I think it is the first time I had to get off my bike because of a

hill's paved road's steepness, and here I had to stop three times. In the middle

of the climb I get the feeling of acute illness, and the body starts to shake

uncontrollably. When I reach that top I see Knut lying there with the same symptoms.

He had fallen over by the side of the road, and had had people stop their cars

and ask if he was ok.

Downhill is a little easier, but still takes its toll. The descent is so steep that

you had to use your breaks almost continuously, to keep you from running off the

road during turns. At the bottom of the hill the arm muscles had also gotten their

daily exercise. Our new friend Gustavo disappear downhill in front of us with

hardly any breaks left, how he is able to do this is beyond our comprehension.

We make pasta for supper and fall asleep exhausted in Gustavo's parents trailer.

24 and 25 February

Gustavo's parents trailer

Boicucanga where Gustavo's parents trailer is placed is a part of the city

San Sebastian, and a popular place for young people to celebrate the carnival.

Our first day in Boicucanga Gustavo and two of his friends show us a nearby waterfall.

We are walking for us along some exotic trails for 10-15 minutes before we reach

the lowest of the waterfalls three levels. At each level there is a little

pond and several people bathing. The water feels good and cooling compared to

the temperature in the ocean. Almost like Norwegian summer water temperatures.

At the bottom two levels there are a lot of people, but the pond at the top we

get all to ourselves. Gustavo has promised that it is possible to jump from some

rocks at about 5 meters height, but when we reach the pond the jump is closer

to 10 meters high. Gustavo jumps first, one of his friends follows a little

more cautiously and we make our excuses by saying that we would rather try to

take some good pictures. Without spotting any other animals than a dead skunk

floating by us down the waterfall, we head back towards the car. It is not easier

to get down than to climb down, and with some humidity and natural barbwires

we reach the car a few bruises richer.

Next stop is the nabouring beach where Gustavo's friends are tenting at a

camping site. Since it is carnival time and money to be made there is not

much privacy to be found at the camping site. The tents are standing as sardines

in a box.

This beach is a popular place for the city youth of Sao Paolo to celebrate the

carnival. The carnival celebrations here is not like we usually image carnival

with costumes and parades, but more a normal party for young people. You can

buy hot dogs, stick on tattoos and of course dance the Samba. We have not quite

figured out what to think of the samba. We had a preconception of a very sensual

dance, but when you look at the facial expressions especially of the girls

they look totally uninterested. For all we know this could be the way it is

supposed to be done and part of the play of the dance, we tried to ask about it

but didn't get any wiser. The asking the girls to dance was also done in a

different way than we were used to. It is explained to us that usually the boys

just go up to a girl and start to dance with her without asking permission, maybe

this is the explanation of the girls uninterested faces.

Knut Morten get into a conversation with Ligiva from Sao Paolo. She studies

business at the university of Sao Paolo, and seem to be happy to be able to

talk to someone in English. We get invited to visit if our travels take us

to Sao Paolo. We probably won't be able to go to Sao Paolo, but this is just

one of numerous examples of the hospitality and helpfulness we have experienced

in Brazil. People often go to much more trouble to help us than we are used

to from our home country.

The next day we wake up as Gustavo's parents arrive with their American exchange

student. We feel a little embarrassed and awkward having taken over their

trailer with our bike packs and tired bodies, but this worrying would prove

to be unfounded. Even though his parents had never seen the two people who where

sleeping in their trailer before, we soon get invited to celebrate the birthdays

of Gustavo and his cousin with them. We offer to bring something to drink,

but are told several times not to. We celebrate with barbecue and kaipira

(the Brazilian national drink. An alcoholic beverage to which different fruit

flavours can be added). Gustavo's father takes care of the barbecuing, while his

mother stakes her pride in mixing the best kaipira. After a small misunderstanding

we understand that the different glasses with kaipira are meant to be

passed around the table. Maybe just as good since they are mixed fairly strong.

After the dinner and a nap, we walk down to the nearest beach to look at the

carnival celebrations here. Here the celebrations are more family orientated

than at the beach we were on the previous night.

There is a concert on stage and the kids are dancing in the foreground, while

the parents who needs a little breather are sitting on folding chairs a

little further down the beach. The whole family is participating, all the

way down to the little girl on her father's shoulders who are looking around with

big wondering eyes even long after midnight.

Tired we decide that tomorrow we have to move on.

Photos from week 1