Morro da Urca

  As we contentedly pushed our gleaming plates aside, which shinned as though they'd been recently polished, we all stiffly stood at once. It was time to leave.

   Just a few minutes later, we once again found ourselves within the confines of the loyal, orange van which quickly spurred to life with a turn of Evandro's key. As I quickly slid into the smooth car seat, I faintly began to wonder where we would be going next, and I thus, relayed the fateful question to Evandro.

   He took a few seconds to respond, seeing as he was concentrating on the swiftly moving traffic ahead of us, before replying that we would next be seeing Sugarloaf or Pão de Açúcar. I desisted slouching lethargically in my seat for a moment, suddenly animated with exuberance.

       Before leaving for Rio de Janiero, I'd briefly learned that Pão de Açúcar was some sort of magnificent, mountainous terrain that all tourists in Rio de Janiero had to see. How we were to scale these massive heights I did not know, but it didn't seem to matter. We were currently in Rio de Janiero, and were swiftly approaching to Sugarloaf. That's all that seized my interest at the time.

     Like my other excursions in the bright, Bambui Eco Tours van, I once again peered out the clear, cool window to absorb as much of the swiftly moving streets of Rio as I could, from the bright blue street signs, to the flood of tropical plants at curb sides, to the stunning views of Copacabana, Ipanema, and Leblon. I didn't want to miss a bit of it.

   After fifteen minutes or so of hungrily studying the streets, we'd soon found ourselves in a vast parking lot before Morro da Urca.

     As I shortly stepped out of the car, after Evandro obligingly pulled the gear into park, my eyes widened at the mound's sheer size and audacity.  It took me several minutes to finally find the words to even attempt to describe what it looked like.

    At once, the words rushed into mind. Morro da Urca was much like a magnificent lump of smooth, coffee-colored clay, being a monumental size of 220 meters (721.785 feet) tall. Running down the sides of its dark, smooth surface were numerous faded, white stripes of sediment. And to further compound its splendor were thick clusters of fresh, green vegetation that streaked brilliantly across the brown, stony surface. While I simply stood there, dumbly registering where I was, my parents and Evandro had to hurry me along, until I reluctantly pulled my eyes from the spectacle and addressed the large ticket stand sitting at the base of the mountain.

           It was then I realized that it was not only us who had so fervently desired to visit Morro da Urca, and more so, Pão de Açúcar, but also a loud, massive, moving congregation of families and tourists who were waiting in line before us.