Call Me Zé

Welcome back friends, the Blog has landed in Rio.

The 2016 version promises to be a lively one if for no other reason than, well, we are in Rio de Janeiro!

I mean how bad can this be? Sure, we might want to stay away from Guanabara Bay, maybe avoid a favela or two, but this is the land of samba, caipirinhas and the most stunning coastal scenery you can imagine: Its soaring granite peaks give way to miles of white sandy beaches inhabited by Cariocas in an endless parade of Speedos and thongs.

Welcome to Rio!

Rio is a stunner, but it is also a city of contrasts. Look down on it from the Redeemer (photo above) and it will take your breath away. Walk its streets and the friendliness of its people is apparent, but it comes with a sense of uneasiness.

There is a lot of street crime here, or so I am told. This is the third time here for me over the past four years and I have seen very little of that first hand. My first trip, four years ago, was an Olympics-run tour of Rio’s main attractions: the Redeemer, Sugar Loaf Mountain, Copacabana, Leblon and Ipanema, as well as whatever Olympic progress had been made to that point. In other words, we got the glossy, postcard tour.

Last year, we came back to report the stories that the Olympic folks may have neglected to show us: the poverty, the corruption, the crime — and the gangs.

The filth of Guanabara Bay is no secret to anyone. But we wanted to know how it got this way and why nothing could be done to correct it despite promises from Rio during its Olympic bid eight years ago that it would greatly reduce the Bay’s pollution. As we found out, not only would this not happen by the Olympics, it’s likely never to happen. That story: “Who Is Polluting Rio’s Bay?” is here.

We partnered with the fine folks at O Globo. They call me Zé. O Globo is the big media company here in Brazil. They helped with the language, set up interviews, kept us from winding up in places we shouldn’t. The also hired our fixers, the guys who would go into some questionable neighborhoods ahead of us to find out whether it would be a good idea or not for us to visit that day. More than once they came back to tell us, “Not today folks.”

The short version of Joseph in Brazil is not Joe, our friends told me. It’s Zé. I don’t know about you, but that is the coolest my name has ever sounded. When you grow up as a Joe (Joe Blow, average Joe, Joe six pack), Zé is a major upgrade.

That reporting trip did afford me my first helicopter ride as we filmed along one of the rivers that feed the bay. Was a bit worried about my motion sickness but we had a terrific pilot who kept the ride steady. He kept us safe too. Every once in a while we had to increase our altitude to stay out of gunshot range. Over some of the more violent favelas (the slums that climb many of the hillsides) gang members shoot at the helicopters if they think it’s the police.

Welcome to Rio!

In the upside-down world of the Olympics, these Summer Games are taking place in winter here, fresh on the heels of the Winter Games in the palm-tree laden city of Sochi. You remember Sochi: stray dogs and homemade hooch; Ted Ligety’s gold and Sahib’s “Oh my God, Joe!”

If you’re new to Eat at Joe’s or simply want a refresher of Olympic blog posts from the past, there are links above to the Sochi and London blogs. Unfortunately, the pre-London posts are lost to the ether. You may remember that this little endeavor started in Torino in 2006. It was called Journal Olympico and was a series of emails sent back home to family, which then got forwarded to an ever-increasing number. It has been fun over the years sharing a behind-the-scenes look at the Olympics.

In the spirit of Eat at Joe’s, I would like to dedicate this 2016 version to my mom and to Anne’s sister, Dawn, two great friends of the blog who we lost since we last met. I have thought of them both a lot while getting E@J’s ready over the past weeks. Sending those first emails home to let my worrying mother know I was just fine was the genesis of this blog. And Dawn’s curiosity and encouragement were a constant source of inspiration to post the details from my latest Olympic exploits.

To them, let’s raise a glass or two of caipirinha. (perhaps my mom would prefer white zin instead!)

I’ve been here a couple of days now and it’s the usual frantic rush by the host city to get things ready for the athletes and Bob Costas. Lots of hammering and wet paint.

Our shuttle ride from the hotel to the media center is about 40 minutes but the first 15 are along the beautiful Barra Beach. Quite the nice commute and the beach is only a 10-minute walk from the hotel. There is a picture attached.

Welcome to Rio!

Like London, Rio built an Olympic Park outside the city, in Barra (pronounced Baha). It’s in a relatively new and mostly upscale suburb. The swimming, tennis, gymnastics, diving and a bunch of other events will be here, as is the media center. We took a walk around and shot a few photos, which are in the slideshow.

As always, the success (and the liveliness) of the blog depends mostly on you guys. I’ll do what I can to keep it fresh and entertaining. Perhaps I’ll trade the Russian moonshine for some samba dancing or beach volleyball in my new Speedo.

Welcome to Rio!

Zé

The Czechs!

Barra Beach

Time to place the underwater cameras

Still working on the timing

Doug Mills, Bedel Saget abd Jason Stallman

My helicopter ride

A river to the Bay

Copacabana Beach