"He Fills His Head With Culture, He Gives Himself an Ulcer..."

Adventures in Rio Pt. 1:

This is the picture that changed my life. For the previous three nights my cousin had escorted my wife and I through her city at top speeds. She knew the serpentine streets of Rio de Janiero like I know Pavement b-sides.

Tijuaca is a long way from Copacabana, so one must drive through favela after endless favela before finding a leisurely beachside beer stand. Crossing the "Red Line" (where the favelas officially surround you on all sides, sort of like Dante's version of 8 Mile) became a celebratory event by Saturday. Rio was undeniably the greatest city on Earth, as long as you were obliged to run red lights no matter what. All the horror stories heard before became folklore.

We were invincible.

I always insisted on being shotgun. It was like Mr. Toad's Wild Ride.

I had a three night window tour of Rio. I saw the world's largest sports stadium, the Maracana.....


Drank a beer atop the city's highest point, Pao de Acucar......


But Sunday morning, as we were about to have a big family lunch, I took the (now imfamous) picture out the window of the car whilst driving through the smaller favela known as Pau de Bandeira (which translates to "Hand of the Flag" or Flag Holder). As you can see no one is in the frame other than the Carioca (Rio-native) bringing home a bag of bread. As we take two more turns we are surrounded by three youths, all dressed the same, all carrying machine guns, and all on matching Honda motorcyles. I thought this was a routine mugging by the time they forced us to stop our car. I made the mistake of rolling up my window (which is like shaking a jar full of bees I later learned) and trying to hide my camera. This is where I blank. I said nothing.

My Portuguese is pretty weak, so all I heard was "Camera" and "Kill Him." They didn't want to rob us. Supposedly someone from far atop the neighborhood wired down a message that a policeman or a journalist was "investigating" the streets. This guy simply thought I was undercover, taking pictures of his stolen bike. My family tried to explain I was a tourist, but the "traficantes" were intent on leaving me for dead. Their m.o. is usually shoot first, ask questions later. Cops are smart not to frequent these areas without military backing.

The leader saw my six-year-old sister-in-law in the back seat and reluctantly let us go, but the youngest member of the gang (to my right) was extremely upset that no blood was shed. Needless to say, I was ready to leave Rio.

There's more to this story, but for now I'll leave you with one bit of advice...

Stay out da ghetto.....