kellita the señorita the ibby dibby dow: Favela Funk

Most hostels give free breakfast of white bread and dulce de leche. Dulce de leche for breakfast is great, but it gets old after awhile. I chose this hostel because all the reviews said it had good breakfast. I was not disappointed. Super delicious coffee, tons of fruit, and eggs. Oh eggs, I've missed you. It's a solid way to start off the day.

I spent the day wandering the beach with two of the members of my new Rio posse, Joslyn and Anita. We hit up Copacabana Beach first, stopping for a swim, then continued wandering Ipanema, hitting up the hippie fair. It didn't take long for Rio to get its hands on me and make me fall madly in love with it. This city has an energy that's contagious, and the perfect mix of city, mountains, and beach. The one downside of our hostel (and I would imagine every other hostel here) is the tours are outrageously expensive. I wanted to attend the Favela Funk Party, but the $80R pricetag put it out of my reach. Enter Colm, an Irish guy from our hostel who caught up with us in the afternoon and told us about the favela tour he'd just been on with a couple who actually live there, not a tour company.

Favelas are the shanty towns built high into the hills around Rio. Any Brazilian will tell you they are dangerous and you should under no circumstance visit a Favela on your own. On Sunday nights Rocinha, one of the biggest holds a Favela Funk party. All the tour operators in town charge anywhere from $60-80R for a "tour" to the party including transportation, VIP area, and a guide. Through inside information from Colm's tour we found we could go to the party solo, pay only the $2.20 transport and $5 entry. No brainer. In the tour company's favor, the danger factor of a Favela party is really revved up, making you think you will die if you go alone. Yes, Favelas can be dangerous, but if we couldn't do it alone, Colm would have never gotten the tip. After searching frivolously online for anyone who had flown solo, we decided to take the risk. We assembled a group at the hostel and upon leaving were warned that we were stupid to go alone, and that we wouldn't be able to get in without a ticket. Bull shit. Half of our group was on the fence, but Colm, Anita, Joslyn and I were up to the challenge and headed out. We would either make it there and have an epic night, or we would have an adventure trying to make it happen. We agreed that if we felt unsafe or uncomfortable we would jump in a cab and get out of there quickly.

It was excitement from the first moment we left the hostel and flagged down a small shuttle bus. We hopped inside and held on for dear life as it sped down the empty streets. In broken PortuSpanish Colm tried to get the lowdown on the party. As luck would have it, the shuttle was dropped us off at the base of Rocinha. Score one for us as the Cariocas in the shuttle laughed heartily at their fellow Gringo passengers.

Upon arrival in Rocinha, we wandered up the hill as we had no real idea as to where the party was. We selected a small bar, bought some beers, and were soon spinning around the dance floor with some local men who tried to teach us how to shake our hips. We felt so at home with the bar patrons who were so proud to welcome us to their community. After 30 minutes or so I took on the role of Portuguese translator, and we were told the party was further up the hill. After another 20 minutes of walking, I stopped a motor taxi driver and his friend to find out more, as walking around a Favela all night didn't seem to be our best bet.

The party was in fact back down the hill, but we were a bit too early for the festivities. Wallace offered to acompany us to stop for a drink at a bar, then on to the Funk. Finally, we arrived, paid our entrance and that of Wallace, and put on our dancing shoes. The venue is a large non-descript cement warehouse building with a huge stage and two bars where they serve you canned beers in plastic bags of ice. We might have found it eventually, but were thankful to have our new local friend in tow. We danced like crazy people all night, smiling pitifully at the tour-attending travelers because we knew the Favela Funk secret. While they paid upwards of $60R before even setting foot in Rocinha, our tab for the night would be a mere $10-20R per person for transportation and entrance. The "VIP area" they were promised was a room that led into the bathrooms which played American pop music that everyone had access to.

The bathroom consisted of two stalls with a cement divider wall sans doors. I squatted over the toilet staring right at the line of ladies waiting to go, totally normal. But you know what? When you have to go you have to go. Later in the evening I found myself the lone stander in liner as I entered the facility to find 7 women, dropped trou, squatted and peeing on the floor. I'm all about cultural immersion, but some things I just can't do. Instead I waded through the puddled pee pee floor and squatted over the toilet.

At 3:30am after a fun filled night of dancing, giggling, and rescuing each other from unwanted dance partners the party was over. We hit up one last bar before calling it a night at 4. With my new-found Portuguese skills we flagged down a shuttle, and after a very long trip home I crawled into bed at 5:30, exhausted.

I am so happy we got to go, and that we made the decision to do it on our own. Top notch. For more info check out this link and scroll down to info about Rocinha... http://cariocafreeculture.com/favorites.html