Once I'd finally accepted that I was actually standing in front of Christ the Redeemer, I slowly turned away from the immense statue, and duly gaped at the panoramic views of Rio de Janiero around us. While it was true that the scenery was nearly submerged in complete darkness, I still managed to marvel at the seemingly infinite number of twinkling lights in the distance, blazing bright whites amidst the overwhelming black. And although it was difficult to distinguish every detail of the vast and beauteous landscape at that time, I still caught my breath when I spotted the hazy silhouette of Pao de Acucar and Morro da Urca, standing tall amidst the city. Walking further down into the smooth and spacious pavilion, I stared at a doughnut-shaped building standing a little to the left of my vision. It was surprisingly visible from such a height, as it was surrounded by numerous lights and activity.
I pointed down towards it, asking my parents what it was. After several seconds, my father replied, " That's Estádio do Maracanã...Evandro told us he would be taking us there after Corcovado and Christ the Redeemer, but-"
He checked his watch. It was 7:00 PM, and it was time to leave the staggering heights of Corcovado and bid Christ the Redeemer a mournful goodbye. We still had to see Maracanã, the shining center of all the athletic activity in the city, and Sambadrome. Before turning away to begin our lengthy descent down Corcovado, I took one last look at Cristo Redentor's face in the darkness, and sighed. He appeared so quiet, so firm, so watchful, so still amidst all of the chaos and growth of the city. It really was hard to leave. I could've stayed there for hours. When I finally forced myself to leave, I promised myself that we would return to that very spot. Under the comforting gaze of Cristo Redentor.
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