that I'm not really a big one for getting out and about much on
tour. I prefer to stay in my hotel room and paint, fire up the
laptop or pick up a guitar. Occasionally all three simultaneously
(whilst juggling two eggs and a chainsaw.) Having said that, I
jumped at the chance to visit Corcovado and see the big Jesus
up close and personable. All nine hundred or six hundred or whatever
it is feet of him.
Of course with eleven people in the entourage speaking two different
languages, even the simplest maneuvers can become complicated.
It didn't help that some of us were operating on Brazilian time
(at least a half an hour late). I found myself wondering on more
than one occasion whether or not Chris may have been Brazilian
in a past life.
I couldn't believe our bad luck as we finally approached the mountain.
Low cloud had completely obscured the enormous statue of Christ
the Redeemer. I probably said something like, "that'd be
right, the one time I let myself be talked into some sight seeing
jaunt for people who haven't got anything better to do with their
time, this happens!"
Never the less, with a, "well, we've come this far
attitude we boarded the train/cable car and began the almost vertical
ascent to the top of the mountain. At first we passed poor people
living in semi makeshift dwellings. Some of the children waved
to us. It became colder and mistier as we rose. We passed through
dense rainforest jungle, with rivers and sheer valleys, cutting
through the dense mountain vegetation. The whole place was dotted
with huge jack-fruit.
As we climbed the few flights of stairs that lead to the base
of the statue and viewing areas everyone was complaining about
the near zero visibility. The fabulous views of Rio de Janeiro
were completely obscured by the cloud below us and the Jesus by
the cloud above us. Actually it was an eerie place to be. You
couldn't see a damn thing. It was like being in a cloud, because
that's exactly what it was.FeeIing
a little cheated, I was halfheartedly looking up toward where
I thought the Jesus should be, although it was hard to tell.
a swirl of fog lifted to reveal a gigantic toe.
There it was
As I watched in awe, another toe was revealed, then an ankle,
then both colossal feet became visible through the swirling mist.
Humbled, I stood before The Feet of God.
After quite a long wait, the ethereal mist began to rise again
quite suddenly and way off in the distance you could just make
out his gigantic hands and fingers.
In my head, the old movie line, "This must surely be the
Son of God." Finally
as we were about to leave, there, way way up, impossibly high,
his holy face could be seen. And never forgotten.
To be honest, in the end I was relieved to be out of there.
I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd glimpsed heaven and the
were right. Imagine that. The Feet of God.