O bonde da morte

This trip to Rio, we stayed in a charming little inn in the neighborhood of Santa Tereza. It was a nice change of pace from the more modern Zona Sul. The buildings are older, the pace is slower... unless, of course, you decide to take the vintage street car that has been serving the neighborhood for the past bizillion years.

The cable car is full of tourists, yes, but residents also hitch rides because, let's face it, living in an extremely mountainous area can get a little tiring after a while if you don't have a car. To say the operators are maniacs would be a little harsh... I suppose they really are no worse than the countless cab drivers and bus drivers I have trusted (imprudently?) with my life.

It's just a little bit more jarring since the cable car is completely open, a wee bit rickety after all these years and if you ride hanging onto the sides as I was obliged to do twice...

I won't say I was scared - more exhilarating. However, crossing the Arcos da Lapa, the street 60 feet below, with nothing between me and the pavement but a board that was smaller than the width of my foot... I couldn't help but think I might be doing something stupid.

Every time the thing lurched, I did a quick check to see who had fallen off. Light poles zipped past literally two inches from my back as frantically I tried to flatten myself as much as possible to the side. Once I actually felt it the breeze as we whipped past it. I just had to look at Ricardo whose eyes were as big as saucers to know just how close it really was to brushing me off.

Needless to say, you really must ride the street car when you visit Santa Tereza.