The hardest part of leaving the summit of Corcovado was saying goodbye to Cristo Redentor. After that it was easy, as we soon found ourselves rapidly hurtling down the lofty slopes of Corcovado. Although I was inclined to observe as much of the wilderness of Tijuca Forest as possible, I found it hard as the most I could make out were the hazy outlines of the treetrops. As I watched the landscape slowly become a blur before me, my eyes grew heavier until I was heavily drugged with sleep.
After a few gentle jolts of my shoulder, I woke with a start to find that we were already in the parking lot where Evandro was waiting for us. I slightly cursed myself. I should have been awake the entire time, taking in whatever I could of Rio de Janiero. As I walked in a stupor to the bright, gleaming van where we heartily greeted Evandro, I sighed contently. Regardless of my reckless sleep, I probably hadn't missed much, and now that we had seen Jardim Botanico, a mall in the Botafogo District, Morro da Urca, Pao da Acucar, Selaron's Stairs, the Arcos da Lapa, the favelas, Corcovado, and Christ the Redeemer, I was immensely satisified with our travels for the day.
But in spite of all we had seen, we were yet to see the heart and rhythm of all the athletic activity in the city, Maracana. After tiredly exchanging a few words with Evandro about the stunning beauty of Christ the Redeemer, I slumped lazily against my window, noticing the night life of the streets, without really registering it.
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