Rio de Janeiro

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• Tangoing in the Moonlight - Argentina
• Revealed, Rio's secrets - Brazil
• On Cloud Nine - Costa Rica
• A Revolutionary Party - Cuba
• More than Sex, Salsa & Cigars - Cuba
• Partying with Fidel - Cuba
• Journey to the Mountain of the Gods - Peru
• Blaze a trail to Belize - Belize
• The time traveller - Mexico and Cuba

BRIGITTE BARDOT WAS THE LAST PERSON I expected to bump into in Brazil. And here she was, the blonde bombshell fantasy of every schoolboy growing up in the swinging Sixties.

She hadn’t changed much. In fact she hadn’t changed at all. Brigitte was sitting on her suitcase in the cobbled street leading to the old fishing village of Buzios two hours up the coast from Rio de Janeiro. A bronze statue, in recognition of her part in putting Buzios on the map.

Back in the Sixties, Brigitte visited some friends here, fell in love with the place, which had the look and feel of St Tropez before it was commercialised, and became a sort of freelance PR telling her friends and anyone else who would listen that this was the place to visit in South America.

And visit they did, in great numbers, spawning chic boutiques and high class restaurants and turning Buzios from a sleepy fishing village into a hip South American version of St Tropez.

We stayed at Casas Brancas, a boutique hotel on a hillside with sweeping views across the bay, sauntering along the sea walk at night to eat freshly caught fish. At Bardoze restaurant we dined on sole with mango sauce and snapper in passion fruit sauce. At Cigalon we were served dourada in coffee sauce. All with local wines.

It costs just £30 to hire a dune buggy for the day and it’s quite safe to explore on your own, unless you’re a terrible driver of course, but avoid the crowded months of January and February. And don’t forget your mosquito repellent!

Back in Rio we met up with my daughter half way through her gap tour of South America and did the things tourists do. We saw the sun set over the city from Sugar Loaf Mountain and we took the funicular train up to the art deco statue of Christ the Redeemer, arms spread above Rio. He was a gift from the French who seem to have made a habit of giving away statues to the New World.

At the copacabana

We shopped for havaianas (flip flops to you and me) which at £4 a pair are a real steal I was assured by my daughter, as she shovelled around 50 pairs into my suitcase to take home for her friends. ‘They would cost £20 in England,’ she told me. Perhaps I could sell them on eBay before she got home.

We sunbathed on Copacabana Beach, which is not as romantic as it sounds. True, there are lots of beautiful people with lissom tanned bodies in miniscule bikinis. But there’s an equal number of beach vendors hawking drinks, gizmos, watches, t-shirts, and just about anything else it’s possible to carry along a beach, appearing with monotonous regularity every 30 seconds or so. After a couple of hours we returned to the hustle free zone of the Copacabana Palace, one of South America’s oldest and most prestigious hotels.

We also did things tourists don’t normally do. The Lonely Planet recommends avoiding the favelas, or hillside slums, which are one of Rio’s major features. Good advice unless you go in with Marcio or Luiz, who run walking tours for small groups. They grew up there and everyone knows them.

On a drizzly morning we found ourselves on motorbike taxis heading up the hill towards one of the main entrances. Almost a quarter of a million people live on this hillside in a maze of tiny streets and winding alleyways and it’s a police no-go zone. When they wanted to arrest some drug dealers recently the police were dropped in by helicopter supported by soldiers.

It’s easy to understand why. At the entrance Marcio points out a drug dealer setting up a rocket launcher. He’s a member of the ADA gang which controls this particular favela, watching out for police or rival drug gangs. He’ll send up flares to warn of an impending raid.

‘There are always plenty of children around a favela,’ said Marcio. ‘If there are no children around we don’t go in. When they keep the children indoors it’s a sure sign they are expecting trouble.’

There were plenty of children around on the day we were there and we wandered through the narrow alleyways with Marcio stopping every few yards to exchange a greeting or a handshake. We met graffiti artist Ricardo Eloi, whose work adorns many buildings in Rio. He has turned his small home into a studio and makes money selling paintings.

Assault on the senses

We ate freshly baked cheese pastries in a small bakery and bought a picture painted on a piece of plywood from a group of 10-year-olds. ‘We are encouraging the kids to make things to sell rather than begging,’ said Marcio.

And we visited a day care centre with 50 babies and toddlers, funded almost entirely by Marcio and Luiz from the proceeds of their walking tours.

Only once did we feel a little concerned when Marcio instructed us to put our cameras away – he had warned in advance that he might – as four members of the ADA came through the alleyway holding shiny AK 47s. They nodded to us as they passed by and I suspect they would have quite liked to have their pictures taken to add to their street cred but I wasn’t going to ask the question.

Rio is a fascinating city. There are places to go and places not to go just like anywhere else in the world and as long as you are cautious and take advice from the locals it’s a great place to visit.

We spent one evening downing caipirinhas, a local cocktail made from cachaca and lime, at the Rio Scenarium, an antique shop over three floors which turns into a bar with live music at night. Another evening we went with Luiz to a football match at the famous Maracana stadium.

And we had some great meals. For seafood, Marius on Copacabana Beach where you can eat as much crayfish and lobster as you can manage. And then there’s feijoada, the signature dish of southern Brazil.

It’s a sort of heavy cassoulet made with meat, meat and a bit more meat – oh, and a few beans – all stewed up in a clay pot with a thick brown meaty sauce and some meat on top. When Rod Stewart went to Rio he had it for lunch and they had to cancel his concert in the evening.

And that’s Rio. It’s fun, it’s extreme and a continuous assault on the senses. Which is why Brigitte Bardot escaped to Buzios where she swam naked, ate tropical fruit picked by the children and chatted to the fishermen. They said: ‘It only seemed like yesterday that she was helping us pull in our nets. When is she coming back?’

Passion in Sao Paulo

A few days before we were due to stop over in Sao Paulo, a mini civil war broke out between police and Brazilian gangsters.

Crime bosses in jail asked for their old TVs to be replaced with new ones to watch the World Cup and the authorities refused. After a couple of days of shooting, commonsense prevailed and the TVs were replaced.

They are very passionate about their football here…

Sao Paulo is where the wealth is in Brazil. It has some stunning contemporary architecture and we stayed in the Jardins area of the city in an amazing minimalist boutique hotel called the Emiliano. Each room comes complete with an amazing array of high tech gadgetry and the services of a butler.

The streets around the hotel are full of cafes, restaurants and chic designer shops. The area feels very safe to stroll about at night and we stopped for a superb meal under the canopy of a 100-year-old fig tree at the Rubaiyat restaurant, which is clearly a favourite with the locals.

Most British Airways flights into Buenos Aires or Rio de Janeiro stop in Sao Paulo so don’t miss an opportunity to see a little of this fascinating city.