Rio de Janeiro. When most Westerners envision this city, certain images are conjured; Stunning women, scenic beaches, futebol worship, Sugar Loaf Mountain, favelas. While I observed all these elements in my three month stay, I came home with a deeper, more profound understanding of the city.
My motivation for the trip revolved entirely around jiu jitsu. Anyone who practices the Art knows that it has an incredibly potent, addictive power. Once you begin your life is quickly dominated by thoughts of training sessions, technical refinement, mistakes to be corrected, among others. Thus, it wasn’t long before I decided that at some point I would have to experience the sport at its purest.
There was nothing particularly unique or advanced about the training in Brazil. The underlying reality is that there are countless academies with dozens of black belts. I trained at Ricardo De La Riva’s and I can recall a few classes were everyone was a black belt. In terms of format, it’s quite simple. A simple warm up, every week one position is shown with an accompanying technique, and then it’s a lot of sparring. Unlike the schools back home, there were at least two classes that could be attended each night. To my delight this translated to hours and hours of mat time each week. Is it any wonder that they continue to dominate the sport? In North America jiu jitsu is a little more recreational. Of course, there are some world class non-brazilian competitors, but they are in the minority.
The contrast between Rio and Toronto (where I reside) was nothing short of dramatic. From a purely aesthetic point Rio bears no resemblance to the flat, grey, symmetrical Toronto. The city is easy to navigate as there as so many points of reference – the beaches, sugar loaf, Christ the Redeemer, etc. The mosaic sidewalks are lined with open juice bars and cafes serving exotic fruits and pastries. Bronzed, healthy looking men and women strut showing obscene amounts of skin. I was used to the pale, ghostly complexions of Canada, typically covered my two or more layers of clothing.
It seemed like a very hedonistic lifestyle. Where was the worrying about bills, work, or the family? Was this just a carefree society propped up by Skol Beer, Samba, and the Beach? Not exactly. Cariocas stress like the rest of us, but their lives are filled with certain contentment and acceptance of the financial and social limitations of Brazilian society. Those who are educated and have jobs make enough to sustain their lifestyle. They don’t fantasize about a second home or a fancier car. Simply put, they don’t define themselves by material or financial wealth.
What struck me most about Cariocas was their genuine warmth and friendliness. I was accustomed to a certain type of politeness in Toronto. It was formal, sort of hollow, perhaps devoid of any real sincerity. Within my first two weeks of training, two people invited me over to their homes. A group of black belts took me to try some mix of beet and carrot juice. A Brown belt from the academy showed me around Barra after I registered for the Mundials. This social experience was just as gratifying and memorable as the training.
