5th March 2013

Having finally conquered my battle with technology last night (copying posts from the tablet to WordPress nearly finished me off), I wrote this entry directly into WordPress. Progress! Now all I need to do is crack the art of embedding photos into the blog. Watch this space, I’ll get there before the monkeys learn to type.

True to form, I woke up early again. The upside was that I got to open my birthday cards in peace before Sue stirred. She only wished me a “Happy Birthday” once, mercifully brief, so no repeated choruses to remind me of my advancing years. Among the cards was news that, upon our return, I’ll be attending a Murder Mystery dinner aboard a steam train. I can only hope I’m not cast as the victim; otherwise, the beer will go to waste.

Our destination today was Jardim Botânico, Rio’s most beautiful garden. Directions, however, were another matter entirely. After consulting the reception, we braved Rio’s public transport. And what an experience it was. I now fully understand how Ayrton Senna became such a formidable driver; clearly, he graduated from Rio’s bus school of motoring.

The buses don’t so much drive as hurtle, never dropping below 50 mph, even in rush hour. To catch one, you must identify its number while it’s still a speck on the horizon, then boldly step into the road, point frantically at the driver, and leap back before being flattened. The driver then performs a Formula One emergency stop to let you scramble aboard. Honestly, I think we earned our fare in adrenaline alone.

We did, against the odds, end up on the right bus and even survived the journey. The conductress gave us a reassuring nod when our stop arrived, clearly impressed we hadn’t leapt out prematurely.

The heat in the gardens was ferocious, but once inside, we took things at a civilised amble. As the park borders the Atlantic Rainforest, wildlife spotting was part of the fun. Sure enough, monkeys soon appeared, nibbling on dates high above us. They were generous enough to share leftovers by dropping them down in our general direction. Nothing says “welcome” like being pelted with half-eaten fruit.

Later, while recovering in the shade near the cactus section, we were joined by a small lizard who gazed hopefully at us as if auditioning for a snack. Alas, we Brits are still in a recession, so handing out rations to local reptiles wasn’t on the budget. He’ll have to charm another tourist.

We wandered, snapped plenty of photos, and refreshed ourselves at the café with fruit juices (to my dismay, beer was not an option). A final stroll by the lake rounded things off nicely before we braced ourselves for the bus ride back, followed by a vital supermarket stop for essentials: beer and water, in that order.

Back at the hotel, freshly showered, we were treated to a birthday Skype call from Sarah, then one from Charlotte. Perfect timing and a lovely surprise to hear from them both.

By late afternoon, we made our way down to the beach. People-watching soon gave way to wave-dodging, which in Rio is like climbing into a washing machine on the spin cycle. Not quite as warm as yesterday, but far more powerful, and I emerged slightly sand-blasted but grinning.

Looking skyward afterwards, we spotted the same procession of frigate birds and vultures heading seawards as the night before. Where they were going remains a mystery, perhaps to investigate that steam train dinner in advance?

Sue, meanwhile, had “borrowed” a hotel towel for our beach outing, though to her credit she returned it later without a trace of guilt.

Dinner was back at the mall. Sue quickly chose from the English menu, while I became fixated on the dish featured on the menu cover photo. Sadly, it wasn’t listed. But after a word with the waiter, who marched the menu off to the kitchen, twenty minutes later, that very dish appeared at our table. Proof that persistence (and cheek) pays off. Delicious, filling, and entirely worth the gamble.

So, that was my 60th birthday: buses at breakneck speed, monkeys with questionable table manners, reptiles begging for snacks, and a menu cover that turned into my dinner. Growing older doesn’t seem so bad after all. Practice, as they say, makes perfect.