Monday morning, I woke up with no school. The goal: get myself a new camera. My Brazilian friend Igor, who lives in Rocinha, told me that I could find the cheapest camera possible in the crazy little market near my house that is the Rocinha market. It's basically a strip of sidewalk leading from the van/bus drop off area that separates my house from the favela. A walk from one end of the tarp-covered market to the other brings you to the heart of the bustle of Rocinha.
Inside the market exist numerous stands where anything can be purchased for 1/5 the price of anywhere else in Rio. I'm talking freshly made juice, clothing, thong bikinis, phones, electronics, miscellaneous gadgets, bags, shoes, cocaine... The thing is, Gringos (non-Brazilians) rarely dare to go there. But I go there every day, whether passing through, usually with Igor, or in search of some random thing. And so the community sort of recognizes me at this point. Anyone else might get robbed.
I stopped at all the stands that had at least one digital camera, and found the man who promised he'd sell me one for the cheapest. I got an Olympus, which is the same mark as my already-stolen-in-Rio camera, so that I could hopefully use the USB connector and battery charger that I already owned.
He (Earnest Borgnine) said he'd sell it to me for R$200, including everything. (This is only about $110 US dollars.) But I didn't want everything. So he lowered it to R$170. I dropped the cash, pocketed the machine, and was on my way.
Immediately I hiked up the main road that zig-zags up the steep mountainside that is Rocinha, to the amazing viewpoint at the top. Normally this trip is done by moto-taxi. I actually did it with a group of friends at like 3 in the morning the previous night. Watched the sunrise from there after an all-nighter at a baile funke the previous weekend, too. It entails forking over $2 to some dude with a moto and an official sort of T-shirt and getting an extremely fun, quick ride up the hill through the traffic of other motos and busses that really don't fit on those streets.
This is the view to the left from the top of the mountain. That point up on the mountain to the left is the huge statue of Christ. In front of him is the Lagoa, and in front of that are the Copacabana Beach and the Ipanema Beach. Closer, in the foresty stuff, sits PUC (my university) in the neighborhood of Gavea, other ritzier neighborhoods, and even a private international school for the kids of internationally important business and government people who happen to be working in Rio.
This is the frontal view of Rocinha, or part of it. It covers the mountainside with intricately squished-together homes, shops and whatnot.
And finally we have the view to the right, which shows São Conrado, the neighborhood in which I technically live. It's speckled unfortunately with high-rise buildings filled with expensive flats for people who make 5X the income of favela residents.
From the top, where a drug-dealing outlet functions, and dealers with guns eye down all who come to enjoy the view, I walked down, like I have done so many times. This time I took pictures of all the stuff I had always wanted to photograph. (And already had, before my otra camera was stolen with all the pictures still on it.)
Highlight of the walk: I was in a shortcut alleyway, which basically cuts down the steep part between the zigzagging main street, with steep, uneven steps, capturing the graffiti that was done as a tribute to Rocinha's favorite futebol team (FLAMENGO!!!!! A equipe do povo!).
This little favelado kid who had been hanging around being all badass and beautiful at the same time (a talent of favelados) went up to his dad and some of his dads friends, who were shooting the shit at some little dive bar hidden in the alleyway, and started talkin' shit! "Essa gringa está tirando fotos de tudo... não sabe onde ela está... gringa isso, gringa aquilo..." (She's probably lost, taking sooo many photos, this, that, etc.) I ignored him, kept taking my photos, and when it came time to descend through the crammed passage past them all, I looked at him and said, "Eu sou gringa, mas eu posso entender tudo que você diz!" (I'm a gringa, but I understand all you're saying.)
He looked defeated, and his dad and the other men had a good laugh at him. One of them recognized me, and appologized. I just laughed. It made me feel pretty good. Anyway.
I got to the bottom and my camera was out of battery. I ran up the hill home to test out my old gadgets with my new machine and they didn't fit. The charger and cord connector were a little too big. So I threw all this in my bag and went back to the market.
At 6, everything was still open, but a younger guy was hanging out at the stand I needed. I explained the situation (practicing really for the first time outside of class my ability to use the past conditional future imperfect tense ("I originally thought that this would work...") They said the man from earlier wouldn't be back until the next day, but they could sell me the correct stuff. For R$70. But I said that the other guy said he'd sell it all to me for R$200, and this would make the remainding stuff only R$30. What followed was a 5-shop-wide effort to get ahold of this guy, get his ass over there, and confirm this so that I could pay less and be on my way. Various surrounding stand-supervisor humans called various numbers, all assuring me that waiting would be worth it. Eventually, my man returned. He gave me a double thumbs up, I forked over the cash, and we mutually thanked each other immensely. Grreat success!
The funniest part of the story: When I excitedly uploaded my first batch of photos later that night, I found photographs of the adventures of some Rocinha partiers throughout December. The guy from whom my "new" camera was stolen seems really cool:
I asked Igor if he recognizes any of them, but he doesn't. Goal for the next 5 months: find these guys, and return their pictures.
Other photographs from within Rocinha:
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