Off-season
Rio

Around about 7 a.m. on a weekday morning, with the sun building strength and patches of dark sand glistening from the small waves creeping back into the ocean, hundreds of Cariocas, as Rio de Janeiro natives call themselves, could be found pacing briskly along the Avenida Atlântica, the wide, majestic thoroughfare that borders Copacabana Beach.

Across from the white Copacabana Beach Hotel, dozens of navy cadets in tank tops and olive-colored shorts accelerated their stride as they passed puffing, determined-looking seniors wearing sun hats and tatty sneakers. On the beach itself, tai-chi classes were in full swing, and skinny, dark-skinned youngsters kicked sandy soccer balls into makeshift nets.

Here in this city where coastline and mountain peaks have contrived to create one of the world's most memorable settings, I was eager to join the communal morning ritual, even though I rarely jog at home. It seemed preferable to a few lonely laps in the pool back at the hotel and the refreshment was cheap too. For a real (about half a US dollar), I could stop at one of the tiny kiosks on the Avenida Atlântica and watch as the owner chopped the top off a fresh coconut and handed it to me with a straw to extract the juice.

I'd come to Rio last June and was anxious to see whether the city's legendary high spirits were the same in the off-season as prevailed during the fabulous February Carnaval. Luckily, World Cup fever (which ended up giving most Brazilians little more than a headache for their efforts) was in full swing and the street scene was livelier than most other places I've ever been.

The first thing that strikes you in Rio is the color, masses of it exploding in a wild palette wherever you look. There's the Tijuca National Park with its forest of eucalyptus, cedar and trumpet trees—all 3,200 hectares of it less than a 20-minute drive from downtown or centro—and the hundreds of street-vendors' trucks that lumber along, seemingly enveloped by heaps of glistening fruit. There's the wide necklace of blonde sandy beaches that hug Rio's shores for some 80 kilometers and the elegant, pastel shades of many of its buildings.

Rio was cleaner and safer than I expected, a result of the city's drive to brighten an image that had been blackened during the 1980s by reports of tourists being subjected to muggings and theft. Since the early 1990s, some 1,200 police have been assigned to patrol beaches and major tourist areas. The only trouble I had was having to choose from the dozens of youngsters I met who asked cheerfully to have their pictures taken.

Because I wanted to be close to the water, I avoided staying in Rio's dense, bustling downtown that overlooks Guanabara Bay, opting instead for Copacabana, the most celebrated of the ocean-side districts that follow one another along the coast from Leblon and Ipanema to Leme. More than five kilometers long, the Leme/Copacabana stretch of beach, which can accommodate up to 100,000 sun-worshippers, starts in Leme and curves along the Avenida Atlântica until it reaches Copacabana Fort, which juts slightly into the ocean.

Nearby the Fort, there's a small encampment used by fishermen to repair and dry their nets and it's where I was offered shelter one day (and a hefty glass of cachaça or sugarcane alcohol) to warm me up when a hard rain fell unexpectedly and I was trapped without cover.

But Rio is a lot more than beaches. Early in my stay, like just about every other visitor to Rio, even those who've been there before, I made the pilgrimage by cable car to the top of Sugar Loaf mountain. Along with the Christ the Redeemer statue on the 914-meter high Corcovado or hunchback mountain, it's one of those got-to-do's, like savoring the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel when you're in Rome.

Taking the cable car at Praia Vermelha, I ascended in about three minutes to the 225-meter high Urca Hill. From there, a further three-minute ride brought me to the Sugar Loaf summit. Despite the presence of refreshment stands and souvenir shops, nothing detracted from the extraordinary view of the city set between the mountains and ocean.

A Little History

Although the Indians had lived in Brazil long before the arrival of the first Europeans, the site on which Rio now stands was "discovered" at the start of 1502 by the Portuguese André Gonçalves who was travelling with the great Italian explorer Americo Vespucci. Navigating into Guanabara Bay and thinking it was the mouth of a great river, the men called it Rio de Janeiro or River of January.

With colonization beginning in 1530, Rio became first a trading port and then Brazilian capital in 1783, a role it would play uninterrupted (and through independence) until 1960 when the seat of government was moved to newly-constructed Brasília. For 13 years that ended in1821, Rio also served as home to the Portuguese royal family whose members decided to set up shop in the city rather than face the wrath of Napoleon who was encroaching on home turf.

Rio's architecture, which I'd previously assumed was mostly Miami Beach deco, is full of glimpses of 17th, 18th and 19th century artistry. At the lovely Largo do Boticário, for example, brightly-painted colonial-era townhouses face a sun-dappled, cobblestone square. And many of the downtown buildings, especially those around the imposing Municipal Theatre, whose design was copied from the old Paris Opera, reflect an exuberant cultural sensibility.

The city's broad boulevards, like the Avenida Presidente Getúlio Vargas and the Avenida Rio Branco were built at the end of the 19th century and lined with a series of graceful European-style public buildings. You can see them today along the Avenida Rio Branco, which boasts not only the Municipal Theatre (the opera Aida was once staged in its opulent, Persian-style restaurant) but such civic showcases as the National Library, the Palace of Justice and the National Art School, as well as many of Rio's major cinemas.

A mixture of pride and piety and a passion for ornamentation are evident in the Portuguese baroque style which graces Rio's old churches, like downtown's Our Lady of Candelária at the foot of Avenida Presidente Vargas and the church and monastery of São Bento. Originally built as a fortress in 1589, São Bento's interior is a riot of intricately-paneled, gilt-encrusted wood. More intimate but no less visually stunning is the small, tranquil Gloria Church or Nossa Senhora da Glória do Outeiro that sits atop a steep hill overlooking the Gloria Inlet with its small pleasure craft bobbing in the water.

In search of a place to rest my feet one day while strolling through the main business district, I found the Confeitaria Colombo or Colombo Coffee House at Rua Gonçalves Dias, 32 (Tel.: 232-2300). The massive two-story restaurant has Belgian mirrors framed with Brazil's famous jacaranda wood and vintage crystal goblets peeking through tall cabinets set against the walls. It was built in Art Nouveau style back in 1894 and still serves lunch and high tea on weekdays.

Because it is so close to Copacabana, I found myself often in Ipanema and can recommend it for food. With some of its asphalt streets painted in zig-zag designs of pink, blues and yellows, the area contains many of the city's finer stores as well as bars and places to eat, from McDonald's to the expensive Esplanada Grill and plenty of choices in between.

Along with the restaurant in the Caesar Park Hotel, Ipanema's Casa da Feijoada (Rua Prudente de Morais, 10) is known throughout Rio for its feijoada, the Brazilian national dish whose influences can be traced back to when the slaves would collect whatever pieces of meat were left over by the owners and cook them with beans. It's usually eaten on Saturdays after a morning at the beach.

Basically a hearty stew composed of black beans as well as any number of dried meats, bits of bacon, salt pork, ribs, sausages and pig's ear, tail and trotter, feijoada is accompanied by kale, orange slices, white rice, fried manioc flour or farofa, and a hot pepper sauce. To wash it down, you drink draft beer or caipirinha, the pleasurably potent drink that's part sugarcane alcohol, diced lemon and sugar with a few ice cubes thrown in.

With Brazil being one of the world's primary sources of gemstones, Ipanema is also headquarters of H. Stern and Amsterdam Sauer, two of the major international jewelry chains. Both have showrooms and museums that are open to the public with the Amsterdam Sauer Museum (Rua Garcia D'Ávila, 105 ) showcasing emeralds, aquamarines, diamonds, topazes and tourmalines. It also features an excellently-crafted miniature model of an inland mine shaft to give you an idea of how gemstones are extracted.

Opulence of a different sort, albeit one with a rather solemn atmosphere, can be found at the the 19^th-century mansion known as the Museum of the Republic (Rua do Catete,153). Formerly called the Catete Palace and used to house 18 of Brazil's presidents, the building and the large gardens surrounding it have seen both social events and suicide. In 1954, then President Getúlio Vargas, in the midst of a political crisis, killed himself in an upstairs bedroom, which has been preserved in all its morbid splendor.

The state rooms on the second floor throw together Roman, Moorish, French and Italian decorative styles with 19^th and 20^th century sculptures and silverware but the third floor's exhibition of documents and photographs and other memorabilia spanning the country's republican history is exceptional.

Because some of my associations have always brought her to mind, I couldn't leave Rio without checking out the venue that honors Brazil's first international superstar. Located just across from Avenida Rui Barbosa, 560, the Carmen Miranda Museum (Tel.: 551-2597) was founded in 1976, some 21 years after Miranda died of heart attack in her Beverly Hills home at age 46. Containing costumes, shoes, photographs and records, the museum occupies a circular former playground pavilion in Flamingo Park and is presided over by a slight, thirtyish man named Iberê Magnani. He saw his first Miranda movie when he watched it on television the day NeilArmstrong landed on the moon and from then on, dedicated himself to Miranda's memory.

Once one of the highest-paid stars in Hollywood, the so-called Brazilian Bombshell, who was actually born in Portugal, made her name during the 1940s when she was teamed with the Marx Brothers in such films as The Lady in the Tutti-Frutti Hat. Her flamboyant costumes alwaysi ncluded a turban with fake fruit or some other concoction and huge earrings dangled from her ears. "Fabulous, no!" exclaimed Magnani as I photographed him holding one of the diva's turbans topped with multi-collared umbrellas. Fabulous indeed.

IF YOU GO

Both United Airlines and Varig Brazilian Airlines fly daily from New York to Rio. Varig has non-stop service and United stops in Miami. Shops are open from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. weekdays and 9 a.m. to 1 p.m. on Saturdays.

Major museums include National Museum of Fine Arts (Tel.: 240-0068) with its collection of Brazilian art from the colonial period, as well 19^th and 20^th centuries. There's also the Banco do Brasil Cultural Center (Tel.: 216-0202) and the National History Museum (Tel.: 240-2003) that traces Brazil's development from 1500 to the Proclamation of the Republic in 1889. The Botanical

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