Nights Out And Caipirinhas

Rio de Janeiro is famed as being one of the world’s party capitals. This is no lie. Party-happy Brazilians occupy the city’s bars every night of the week, spilling out onto the streets. Meanwhile, millions of tourists come every year to wreak havoc in clubs, beaches and pretty much anywhere else they can find. It is a city that attracts people with its splendours: year-round sun, beaches and a phenomenal variety of fruit that almost rivals its cultural diversity. As a result, it is certainly a happening place and this translates to a lively nightlife scene.

The first thing to mention is the caipirinha, Brazil’s favourite cocktail, made from cachaça (a sugarcane based spirit), ice, lots of crushed lime and alarming amounts of sugar. My first few weeks here were spent revelling in the brilliance of this drink. Refreshingly zingy, the strength of the pure alcohol masked by a sweet, citrus layer, it is a drink that will bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses of the recipient. In other words, it will get you drunk quicker than you realise, such that you’ll have already bought your fourth one before it’s too late. However, about a month into this cachaça-fuelled existence, its supposed wonder had faded and the caipirinha became nothing more to me than a sticky, sickly addition to the hangover. From time to time, I still indulge.

a typical lapa street stall

Indeed, when consumed sparingly, the caipirinha is superb. On the beach it serves as an antidote to the heat and your dehydration, while on the streets of Lapa, Rio’s weekend haven of crowds and dangerously cheap beverages, it will give you enough confidence to try that samba move, or approach that stunning girl. Lapa is synonymous with partying. A large square under an imposing aqueduct becomes home to street stalls, selling caipirinhas of every flavour imaginable and some marvellous food. The local haunt is one stall that sells a litre of caipirinha for a mere 6 reais (about £1.50). Having overdosed on the original lime variant during carnaval, I have since moved onto several other flavours, settling on mango or strawberry as a favourite, only after a harrowing encounter with a passion fruit.

Aside from cheap drinks and sumptuous snacks, Lapa houses street performers, jazz bars and clubs, with music ranging from samba and Brazilian funk to the painful depths of remixed Pitbull. On the weekend these places will be heaving with punters and there’s rarely a dull moment, not least because of a peculiar approach to paying. In almost every drink-serving establishment, you will be given a card, which will list everything you have consumed. This card will be paper or electronic, depending, I suppose, upon the sophistication of the establishment. You may not leave until the debt has been paid. The electronic cards are particularly dangerous because there is no way of knowing how many drinks you have ordered until you hand it over to the cashier upon leaving; it is, undoubtedly, one of life’s tensest moments. I did once see a rather unfortunate, and let’s face it, simple girl, who found herself without enough money to pay for the countless drinks she had happily imbibed, believing everything to be free. Well, she might have said ‘countless’, but the card knew. It always knows.

lapa's arches by day

Despite the abundance of venues, finding the perfect place to while away the evening has proved to be somewhat challenging. I have found myself at a ‘gringo’ party far too often for my liking, where the people and music are very similar to what I might find at home. My pursuit of a more authentic Brazilian night has been to ask locals (who have been surprisingly unhelpful) and just wing it (which rarely produces successful results). Of course, I have been to my fair share of Brazilian-themed affairs, particularly during carnaval, but also on the odd night where you come up trumps and find yourself dancing to an unknown music style, surrounded by exuberant cariocas. The most spectacular night was arguably spent in Vidigal, a favela that overlooks Ipanema beach and the Lagoa. Ironically, the main demographic present was of a similarly ‘gringo’ persuasion. What a pity.

this happens in lapa 

But, of course, the sheer brilliance of Rio’s nightlife lies in its unpredictability. No evening is the same. Sometimes it doesn’t work out, but on the flip side, sometimes it can be incredible. And it embodies the Brazilian attitude of taking it easy and just seeing what happens. My initial incredulity at the inefficiency of many things here was not an opinion shared by many, and certainly by very few Brazilians. But gradually, I have become accustomed to the fact that although some things may seem ridiculous, it really has little bearing on my life. And let’s face it, if you can’t have a good time here, then where can you?