Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl…..

First stop Rio. Everyone has seen photos of this extraordinary city, but even flying in at night we were unprepared for the sprawling size of the place, and the geography that shaped its development. Waking up in Ipanema and getting our first look at Rio was breath-taking; towering mountains in the middle of the city, huge lakes, mile upon mile of beautiful beaches even Brighton residents can only dream of, and the skimpiest leisure-wear known to man.

We dutifully ticked the tourist boxes, including Sugarloaf Mountain (by cable car) and Christ the Redeemer (by rickety cog train). Both were stunning, and had the statue of the big guy not been shrouded in mist, would have been equally so – but the views from Sugarloaf were incredible. Watching life go by with a cocktail on Copacabana beach is an experience not to be missed if you ever visit Rio.

A pilgrimage to the Maracana football stadium followed, at Cath’s insistence. Given that this will be the showpiece for the World Cup in three years time, they have some serious work to do before FIFA can safely plaster the entire area with Mastercard and McDonalds logos. A true shrine of world football, it’s a sad and battered spectacle at the moment – it is shut till 2012 at least so hopefully they can get their act together before then.

Our overall impressions of Rio were of a devotion to handbag-sized dogs Paris Hilton would envy; men parading around half naked – the fatter the man, the smaller the thong; and an idea that our next career step, assuming the Audit Commission doesn’t rise, Lazarus-like from the dead, would be to become plastic surgeons in Rio – everyone is doing it, and frankly we were lucky to escape without a nip and tuck ourselves.

So, we bade farewell to beautiful, crazy, sweaty, half-dressed Rio on Saturday and are now residing in an island paradise a few hours west.  Ilha Grande is a bit like the Isle of Wight, in the sense that it is an island.  Wildlife abounds here, especially the birds (sitting on the veranda watching the hummingbirds can keep Cath entertained for hours) and the snorkelling today was an unexpected surprise.  We have a few more days of R&R here before we move on.    

Highlights: endless beach life in Copacabana and Ipanema.

Lowlights: shambling around having our bank cards rejected from every ATM in Rio, with the princely sum of £4 in our pocket for our stay (sorted out through the marvels of Skype and a short-tempered phone call with NatWest).

Caipirinha count: 7 (expect this to shoot up exponentially now we have discovered the roadside stall selling them for £2)....make that 9.

Monkey count: 0

It's looking grim out there

Whoever thought that running a nine mile cross-country race two days before the trip of a lifetime was a good idea? Clearly us.... So, Sunday saw us heading for the army vehicle testing track in Aldershot to undertake the aptly titled Grim Challenge. Fortunately it also gave us the chance to meet up with Cath's family and some Audit Commission friends who were also running.

Our trademark impeccable timing meant we had leaving drinks with friends scheduled for the night before, the plan being a couple of relaxing beers and an early night. At some point during the evening that plan was quietly jettisoned, so our preparation for the run from hell involved a gallon of wine each and crawling to bed at 2am, a technique mentioned in very few running textbooks. A bleary-eyed, early morning drive around the south-east's exciting motorway network later, and we were lined up with 1800 other hardy souls, whose idea of the perfect way to spend the Sabbath was to plough through knee-deep water and mud for nine miles, with the tempting carrot of a t-shirt and a sachet of some indigestible isotonic drink powder as a reward. PG Wodehouse once described a particularly crushing hangover as like having a Frenchman living inside his head, and our Gallic cousins were in boisterous, irrepressible form on the starting line. However, a blistering run from the Ryder duo saw them come home in 1hr:21mins, enough to secure a coveted place in the top 700 and an unseemly display of flesh whilst changing out of sodden, mud-caked clothes in the car park afterwards.

It is now 24 hours till we leave for Rio, and we have moved into full packing mode. The cat has buried himself in the pants strewn out across the bed ready to be crammed in to an already over-flowing rucksack, and is in danger of finding himself unexpectedly at 37,000 feet and minus 50 degrees. Julian's outfit for the nearest mainland point to the Antarctic winter appears to consist of sandals, a floppy hat and a pac-a-mac, though the latter might just come into its own in Rio de Janeiro.

We have both had fairly drastic holiday haircuts; one of us now looks like Noel Fielding and the other like an escaped convict. We will let you decide which is which. We have said our tearful goodbyes to most friends and family and we are in the process of handing over care of our cat and house to a very safe pair of hands.

So, this will be our last UK entry, expect the posts to get more sporadic but hopefully more interesting from here on in.

A taste of things to come

Before embarking on our big adventure, we could not resist the call of the powder.  So, the New Year saw us heading for Switzerland for a week in the snow.  Despite going to a resort we have both been to many times before in a country where we have at least a passing familiarity with the language, this did not seem to smooth the path to a trouble-free week. This does not bode well for the months ahead.  A catalogue of incidents ensued, involving bananas, chair lifts, car parks, stretchers, supermarkets and a car seemingly more suited to balmy Mediterranean climes than the frozen Alpine winter.

 

We are both skiers scoring strongly on enthusiasm rather than expertise and showy technique - we leave advanced skills such as the ability to stop to our European brethren. Given that previous skiing holidays have resorted in broken wrists and mangled knees, perhaps it wasn't so bad - and the scenery was stunning.

It is now nine days until we leave for Rio and the excitement in the Ryder house is at fever pitch. We are no more organised but at least the first few days accommodation are booked.  We have sold our beloved car so are now travelling everywhere by bike, which is a risk in itself for the clumsy female half of the Ryder twosome.  Remaining tasks for our last few days on UK soil include sprucing up the house, raiding M&S for a 180 day supply of pants (in Julian's case three pairs should cover 'it') and crash dieting and an all over body wax in preparation for Copacabana beach.....  We will also be saying our goodbyes to friends and family over the coming days but hope you will all keep in touch while we are away, and of course follow the blog.