Brazil is great! Everyone is really relaxed here, no one hassles you, people are always helpful and friendly. Unless they're robbing you blind of course, and I've heard some pretty hair-raising tales, but thankfully none to tell first-hand at the moment.

Rio de Janeiro is a huge, exciting, sprawling city of extremes, where the scenery varies from beaches to jungle-covered hills, and the districts range from swanky guarded apartment blocks in Ipanema to the forsaken favelas. Rio is incredibly multi-cultural and there are pastry and juice shops everywhere. I stayed in Gloria, and explored the city by foot, bus and metro, since luckily the public transport system - in stark contrast to LA - was great. The weather wasn't great - in fact a mini cyclone hit while I was there and caused flooding; I don't think I've ever seen so much rain fall at once, it was as though someone was tipping a giant bucket from the sky - so I had a mooch around a couple of museums and a cathedral. The Museu del Republica, was a beautiful old palace with ornate furniture and murals, and rather creepily included a room preserved exactly as it was when a former president committed suicide in it. There was even the revolver and his pyjamas with a bullet hole in them, in a glass case! The Museu de las Belas Artes had interesting modern and classic Brazilian art, and exhibitions on Rodin and Boudin, among others. In the upstairs galleries, the paint was chipping away from the walls, the lights were dim and there were buckets on the wooden parquet to catch drips from the broken ceiling. It was a grand old building, but falling apart somewhat, and it made me realize just how much effort goes into art galleries where you don't even notice the expert lighting and layout.

I took the cog train up to the famous Cristo Redentor (Christ the Redeemer) statue overlooking the city. I can understand some written Portuguese in the newspaper or on signs, but am totally lost whenever anyone speaks, and I clearly have an appalling accent as people seem to find it hard to understand me when I try to say anything. I was trying to find a bus to go to the Corcovado, where the statue is located, but the person I asked just looked at me blankly until I ended up sticking my arms out with my feet together like the statue. It resulted in a communications breakthrough, but I'm not sure it's ever a good idea to do a Jesus imitation in a religious country.

By the time I got up there, the statue itself was shrouded in mist and there was no hope of seeing any of the spectacular views since you could barely see a hand in front of your face. The fog cleared ever so slightly for a brief minute so that the statue was visible (cue a cheer from the crowd of other disappointed tourists) but then regathered.

Copacabana and Ipanema were also a bit of a washout when I went there: gone were the throngs of bronzed people, in their place were hoards of pigeons. I'm sure it looks better in the sunshine, but I wasn't blown away by the beaches. They were nice enough, but so is the Costa del Sol I suppose. I think I'm turning into a beach snob!

I took the cable cars up the Pao de Azucar (Sugar Loaf) with a Brit and a Belgian guy who didn't like heights and was not a happy camper swaying hundreds of feet above Rio. The view was stunning as the sun set behind the Cristo statue and bathed the city in warm orange. You could see the beaches and mountains and islands as the sky turned different colours and the lights came on. It was a wonderful vista and my faithful camera chose the moment we got there to break. The lens refused to pop out no matter how much I prodded and poked it, and since I had no money for a disposable one, I will just have to remember the beauty of the panorama. And buy a postcard.