Rocinha

A couple of weeks ago, I went to Cantagalo, a favela that lies on a hill between Copacabana and Ipanema. I'd been there before, but this time, in order to get to the Residents' Association office, I got a ride on the back of a moto taxi. There was a squadron of young guys with motorcycles at the bottom of the hill, on the street leading up to the favela, and the mini-van that makes the trip wasn't ready to go yet, so it was an easy choice.
Having seen this, that people ride as passengers on motorcycles for short hops in the favelas, I wasn't surprised when I went to Rocinha today and saw probably 3 or 4 different moto taxi companies waiting near the entrance.
Rocinha is the largest favela in Latin America. The census calculated the population in 2000 at 68,000, but the President of the Residents' Association estimated today that there are around 160,000 people living there now. While the City of Rio estimates that approximately 1,000,000 people live in favelas in the city, the Rocinha Residents' Association President put that number as more realistically around 2,000,000, which is one-third of the city's total population. I was there to talk with him about the compromise that the Association had reached with the State of Rio de Janeiro around building a 3-meter-high, concrete wall to stop the favela from spreading further into the forest bordering Rocinha and other favelas.
As I waited for someone to come get me near the entrance to the favela, I regretted not having my audio recorder. There was music blasting from a stand across the street where the latest hip hop and other tunes were available. Moto taxis cut this with their buzzing, up and down the street, with and without passengers.
And I noticed the electrical towers just on the other side of the row of shops in front of me. And when I settled a bit more into waiting, I also noticed the skein of electrical cables hanging practically in front of my face and criscrossing the street all the way into the favela.
At one point, a guy drove by on a motorcycle with a big smile on his face (no helmet, of course. No one wears helmets.), waving to someone on my side of the street. He also had some sort of machine gun slung across his chest. What surprised me was not so much seeing this, as I know that the drug traffickers in the favelas are armed, but the fact that I was totally unfazed. Maybe it's because he himself was relaxed and jovial. I dunno. But I did find it striking how we really can get accustomed to pretty much anything.
For the past few weeks, I've been debating whether to stay here in Rio or head back to Belo Horizonte. For the moment, I'm going to stay here. My plan is to try and live more in the moment and just enjoy whatever the hell I'm doing. It is also to make choices to do more of those things that seem like fun.