this time I will take more notice of the advice from the cariocas, especially as Lapa has come alive since I was frog marched out.
as the bus passes through, a scuffle breaks out in front of us. to the left there is a mini blocco that looks slightly out of control. so as I disembark, I walk purposefully towards the rattling furnicular railway making its way up the steep hills of Santa Teresa. I really want to experience the hopping off and hopping on for myself.
but Lapa had other plans. as I approached the station, the busy dual carriageway became more and more deserted. I started to question my decision as I could see, what can only be described as loony street men lining the path that I needed to take.
so I turned on my heels and retraced my steps, the friendly street sellers that I had asked for directions moments before, looked at me in bemusement. I explained, in my basic Portuguese, that I would take a taxi instead. and she replied, "yes, that´s better".
reassured by my decision not to get attached or mugged or at the very least harrassed, I jumped in a cab along the tram lines. which if I squinted really hard and opened the window wide, could almost very nearly, but not quite at all, be the same as the tram journey. almost...
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