The heavy exhaustion of travel still hounded us horribly, so we spent the following day on Ipanema Beach despite attempts to dissuade us from the grey sky (I was given the impression Rio was supposed to be sunny all year round...).
The night proved to be far more eventful: quickly making friends with two Swiss girls we headed out for a party on Ipanema Beach; a small bar was enclosed by massive palm fronds and fiery torches that nicely complimented the lights of the Favelas gently winking on the distant hills. Here was where I tasted my first Caipirinha, the national drink made from Cachaça (Sugar cane rum) , Sugar and Lime. It´s sweet laquor mixed with it´s potent content happily pushed us down the steep slope to inebriation. A few more and we got talking to a friend of a friend of a new friend who invited us to flat party in Copacabana. The only obstacle getting there was surviving the reckless driving of the taxi man, who made it his mission to run every red light we came too whilst the five of use squashed in made it ours to spill as little Caipirinha as possible; there´s nothing fun about glancing out the window and seeing a truck vigorously making it´s way too a meeting with your side door. Many near misses later we mingled with various socialites and event organisers, and somehow got ourselves invited to an opening of a new club night; one studded with an array Brazilian celebrities who I´d never heard of. Here I also received one of the odder compliments of my life, from the world´s campest woman: "You are like a Peacock, you open your tail feathers and shake it!"
The night soon lost itself into a blur of rum, beer and peacocks, and as the sky began to obtain the steely hue of early dawn we jumped on a van home - encouraged by a young boy who´s sole job was to acquire Gringos whilst hanging out the side door of the van as it raced down the street at perilous speeds. Rio was quick in establishing it´s party reputation.
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